The door opened again, a candle preceding her tormenter. Hermione didn’t even look up as she sniffed away the tears that clogged her throat. Desire—for the food, for relief of her chains, for his body if not his mind—mixed in a poisonous, overwhelming swell with self hatred. That shame; she hadn’t been able to shake it, ever since Malfoy had revealed some of his reasons for capturing her.