Title: A Dance with the Devil

Author: MrsRobot

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and receive no profit from this work.

Warnings: Triggers, sexual content, torture, mental instability, etc.

Author's Note: I sure love torturing Hermione and dragging her through figurative and literal broken glass but she's such a fascinating character that I really just can't not do it. Apologies for the excessive use of italics but I find them necessary when trying to express a certain reaction/feeling in writing, especially when we're seeing the story through a character's head. Please be aware that when we're dealing with an unstable character, we often get unreliable narration. Thanks for reading; please follow and review! Much love, MrsRobot.

Summary: One reckless decision and Hermione is plucked away from the tedious task of hunting horcruxes. Lucius Malfoy has no innocent intentions when he takes her but time passes, situations happen and emotions run wild.

Chapter 1 – Watch Them Feed

(In Flames, 2003, Trigger EP)

She doesn't know what makes her do it but she can't help herself. Life's been too stressful, that's it! It's all just so complicated and she's just so exhausted from looking and thinking and moving all the goddamn time. And, damn it, she's so hungry that it hurts just to think of it. Food, she must get food – not for herself only, oh, no! She must think of Harry and Ron as well!

She hopes to be back in their stupidgoddamnugly tent (she's getting tired of the damn thing) before they notice she has gone. But it's only just for food, nothing else! She's thinking of their well-being, of their sustenance. Thinking – she's tired of thinking all the goddamn time. She can't admit it though, not now and not tomorrow. They, Harry and Ron, and who knows, the whole nation of England for all she cares, depend on her wits and fast-thinking. Oh, if only she had turned out dumb she wouldn't have to deal with all of this goddamnstupidridiculous horcrux business. Damn the uglymutilatedtwisted reptilian monster that is Voldemort; damn him and his stupidracistinbred followers.

But she can't give up – no! – what in Merlin's name is she thinking?! God, Hermione, get it together for Merlin's sake! She must be strong for her friends; they must feed off from each other and she knows fully well that her burden is nothing compared to what Harry must go through every day. But she is just so hungry! Surely, she deserves some minutes off – a time-out of sorts – to clear her mind, to gain some strength and brain-power back, to just be alone for a few moments.

Apparating is easy now – well, easier than before anyway. She finds that collecting her mind and focusing it on one location isn't as straining as it once was. It's fluid, it's natural, it's magic. It doesn't require as much preparation and the exhaustion is but temporary. It is certainly useful wizardry; one that saves much time and effort – it is in great luck that she learned it before leaving Hogwarts.

A grocery store – no, the grocery store is more like it – it's by habit that she ends up here; she's walked through those automatic doors so many times that its entrance is forever imprinted in her vast mind-space. Treading so close to home is dangerous, she knows, she knows, but dash it, they have her favorite toffees. They are just so well-made and she has consumed so many of them that they forever remind her of a pre-Hogwarts life. Another time, another era – she is not where she once thought she would be at this stage of her life. Fighting a war had never been part of the plan.

Oh, Heavens, there is just so much food around her that she can barely contain herself not to rip open the generic sandwich she's just picked up. But, forget it, she opens her box of special toffees and quickly puts two in her mouth. It doesn't matter; she'll be paying for them either way! Merlin, they taste like paradise. After all this time and all this (unwilling) starvation, toffees still make her senses tingle. What is she thinking?! Starvation is taking a toll on her brain – get the food, pay, get out, apparate back to the forest. It's simple. Oh, but there are her favorite crisps over there on that shelf – she must get that too, surely!

By the time she's finished paying, Hermione knows she has taken too long. Mouth full of toffees and hands full of plastic bags overloaded with food, she hastily exits the well-lit and air-conditioned store. Outside, it's dark and eerily quiet. Quiet doesn't sit well with her anymore and the dark is even scarier. No, no, she's just paranoid. It's all just in her mind. Surely, no one would think to look for her here. Surely, she hasn't been gone for that long. It hasn't even been a full thirty minutes. It's alright; it's gonna be okay – she just has to get back to the forest.

She sets her mind to the forest, she focuses on that tree she marked earlier (to distinguish all the forests from each other), she clears her mind. But, oh, someone has grabbed her arm – someone strong with leathery fingers. Oh no, oh no, ohnoohnoshehasmesseditallupohnofuck. The air is being squeezed out of her and her brain wants to escape from her head – she is apparating. But – impossible! – she hadn't even finished preparing. No, no, this person is taking her somewhere else, not where she wanted to go (thank God) – is that good? She must find out who this is, she must –

She's thrust onto the ground, a stonyslimymuddydirty ground. The grocery bags are on the floor, some of the contents peeking out, some even deserting the shiny plastic bags. Her arm is throbbing from the steel grasp that had kept her in place. Who would –

Lucius Malfoy stands before her, above her, looking down upon her with the nastiest look on his face and her wand in his gloved hand. But as his eyes glare holes into her body, his mouth inarguably transforms into a dirty smirk – a smirk of unexpected triumph. She's done now – she has screwed up. What was she thinking?! Stupidstupidstupid! She prays in her mind, to whoever might be listening, that Harry and Ron are okay – that they haven't been captured. Captured! She's so stupid; she only sees it now – she risked it all for some stupid toffees! Fuck, he'll kill her – she hasn't even said goodbye to her friends – to anyone! She –

"Mudblood, we meet again. I cannot say it is a pleasure."

"You! What right do you have to grab me and just take me? You ignorant –" She's screaming, she should control herself around people like him. She should be careful.

Smack. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! His cane, his elegant and sophisticated cane, leaves a red mark on her upper arm where it touched her so ungracefully.

"You will speak with respect to your betters, girl." She swallows that one – she doesn't want to be hit again, not with that thing anyway. She hates him, she always has, really, but now she feels it running through her veins – hatred.

"Why have you taken me? Where have you brought me?" She tries to get up but he doesn't let her – cane firmly placed on her shoulder, keeping her on the ground. She yearns to grab the goddamn stick and split it in two but she knows she has no power without her wand.

"I will be the one asking the questions, girl." He stares at her with such contempt that she backs away from him. Gods, why is she such a weakling? She hates herself then too but glares at him either way. He will not break her, he will not! She doesn't know where she is and she doesn't know who else is here but, damn it, she won't help them with her valuable information (fine, she knows perfectly fine why he has taken her), she won't let a single truth escape her lips!

She watches him as he stores the looted wand somewhere in his robes and cries internally. It is hers! It should be in her hand, not hidden in his clothes. She watches as he uses his own to vanish all of the groceries she has paid for (the bastard!), only leaving the half-empty box of toffees on the ground, somewhere in front of her. She watches as he straightens up and puts some stray lock of perfectly styled hair behind his ear.

"Enjoy those while you can, Mudblood. I'll be back for you some time or another; maybe I'll forget, who knows?" His laugh is cruel, merciless and detached.

She screams furiously and throws herself at him but before she can take him down, before she can even touch him, he has disappeared. She tries it too – she does! – but it doesn't work, apparating, no matter how hard she focuses her mind. She curses, she screams, she paces the confines of her prison, she punches the walls only to regret it after, she eats her toffees and most of all, she cries for her stupidity.

If only she had the time-turner now. If only she could do wand-less magic. If only but if-only doesn't change the situation. Hermione drifts off to sleep in some wretched corner with sugar in her throat, back against the grimy stone wall and a bruise springing up on her fair skin. It is only the first of many.