Hermione woke slowly, groaning at the throbbing pain at the base of her skull. Her first hope was that she had awakened from a nightmare, but once she took in her surroundings she realised she could not expect any respite from the very real treatment she received earlier. Her surrounding seemed familiar to her, it reminded her oddly of her parents dental surgery, the sturdy leather chair, sterile metal cupboards and harsh electric lighting over her head each item seemed non-magical. But as she noted the shackles that trapped her to the chair, she was aware this was no ordinary dentist chair. The collar around her neck made surveying her surroundings particularly hard, she couldn’t manage to lift her head even half an inch from the chair’s headrest, the metal band seemed semi-fused to the headrest. She could feel the wide leather straps trapping her naked body firmly to the chair, she could feel that the bindings on her hands and feet had anchored her completely to the chair, in the distance she could spy a strange mixture of torture implements and wizarding tools. Even after surviving her brief encounter with Voldermort, she had a sinking feeling that there was yet more abuse in store for her.