Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

Ann Margaret

Story Summary:
The end of the series from our favorite herione's point of view--discover the millions of things that happened that not even the Boy Who Lived knew about! Follows Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

Chapter 16 - Chapter 16

Posted:
01/14/2008
Hits:
4,340


It seemed inevitable, especially in a time of war, that when things seemed to be going very well, they would soon fall apart. After all, things never went really well in war; there was always someone dying, some battle being lost, or someone losing hope in their cause. Good fortune couldn't and wouldn't last forever. All you could do was savor the transitory fortuity while internally preparing yourself for whatever it was that was destined to come.

They had been doing so well ever since they had escaped their Lovegoods. They hadn't made any strides in the Horcrux hunt, but their spirits were high, only clouded every now and then by quarrels about the Hallows, and they were crossing possible locations off their lists almost everyday. They were no longer stagnant and stuck as they had been throughout the autumn. They were actually doing something now, making a difference, and they all knew that while it was inevitable that they should fall into danger and despair at any moment, it was also destined that they would find something soon that could save the world.

However, Hermione didn't think any of them were really surprised that one night in March, danger and despair preceded any luck pertaining to the Horcruxes. Harry had finally slipped and spoke Voldemort's name aloud and now, in spite of all of their protective wards, Death Eaters stood outside of their tents, drooling at the chance to collect a few meddlesome troublemakers, oblivious to just how valuable their prize really was.

Hermione immediately sprang into action, her mind flying to the list of things to do if and when they were confronted with Death Eaters. One of those lists was finally going to come in handy. Her wand flipped to Harry's unsuspecting face and with a silent apology, administered the strongest Stinging Jinx possible square into his nose. Harry buckled in pain, clutching his rapidly swelling face. Ron gaped before recognizing her genius and charging to the entrance of the tent to buy her as much time as possible.

And she needed all of the time she could get. She grabbed the beaded bag and crammed it down her sock before diving to the ground to hide Harry's glasses, but a thick arm was there to stop her, knocking her wand aside and scooping her up as easily as if she was a rag doll. Hermione struggled with all of her might, straining with everything she had to reach her wand, but the attacker easily wrapped both arms around her flailing body and carried her out into the night.

She could hear Harry and Ron struggling behind her. She twisted her head around to see that one Death Eater was tending to Harry, who was still too dazed to be a threat; the other three Death Eaters were needed to restrain Ron's valiant efforts to break free. By reaching her foot as far as she could, Hermione managed to lash her leg back and kick one of those three in his side, near his abdomen. It hardly caused him any pain, but it was enough to make him turn around and grab her feet as though he was ready to snap her ankles in two. Now Ron only had two Death Eaters to contend with.

But God love him, Ron only worried about her. "Get--off--her!" Ron shouted, livid and frightened all at the same time. The Death Eater holding Hermione's feet promptly dropped her so he could surprise Ron with a clean punch to the face. Ron crumpled with a grunt of pain and went limp, momentarily stunned. Hermione tried kicking the Death Eater again, screaming at them to leave him alone, but a raspy voice stopped them all.

"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list," a sixth Death Eater crooned. He appeared to be the leader of this group, standing off to the side to watch the fray with keen interest. He came forward, motioning for the Death Eater holding Hermione to release her, and she dropped to the earth, panting and holding her now aching ribs. The man crouched down in front of her and Hermione cringed away, overcome by his stench. He clearly hadn't showered for weeks and stank of dirt, sweat, and something that was awfully similar to human flesh and blood. In the moonlight, she could see that his face was covered in whiskers, his teeth were pointed and stained with a disturbingly dark liquid and suspicious red sores dotted around his chapped lips. He had to be the filthiest man she had ever seen.

He reached out to caress her cheek. "Delicious girl...what a treat..." His thick fingers passed over her flesh experimentally to discern just how tasty she would be. "I do enjoy the softness of the skin..."

Hermione couldn't even whimper; all oxygen had been frightened clean out of her. Now she knew who this was; it had be Fenrir Greyback, the most terrifying werewolf of them all, who had become so accustomed to the taste of human flesh that he had taken to consuming his prey even when he hadn't transformed, who had a special affinity for young girls. Suddenly, Hermione knew that Dolohov wasn't the Death Eater she should be fearing; this man was ready to literally eat her alive.

"Search the tent!" the Death Eater who had carried Hermione out commanded as he strode over to shake Greyback out of his hunger-induced daze. They had a job to do. Greyback allowed himself one last mock-affectionate pinch of her cheek before getting to his feet to oversee the operations. Harry and Ron were dumped to the ground near her and those Death Eaters started a hasty search of the tent while Greyback and the other one nearest to Hermione remained to examine their victims.

Greyback first went to Harry who appeared to be finally shaking himself from the aftereffects of the Stinging Curse. He flipped Harry over onto his back and shone the wand into Harry's face. Hermione held her breath, praying to anyone who would listen to please let this work. Ron managed to lift his head to watch, blinking back the black spots from his vision.

Greyback recoiled at the sight of Harry's puffy, swollen, and unrecognizable face and laughed. "I'll be needing butterbeer to wash this one down. What happened to you, ugly?"

Harry didn't answer. Greyback curled his hand into a fist and drew his arm back. "I said." Hermione opened her mouth to scream a warning, but the Death Eater behind her kicked her in the spine just in time. Hermione sprawled out on her stomach, the Death Eater's foot still on her back to keep her pinned to the ground, while Greyback slugged Harry hard in the diaphragm. He doubled over with pain. "What happened to you?" Greyback repeated.

"Stung," Harry muttered, voice tight and breathless. "Been stung."

"Yeah, looks like it," the Death Eater pinning Hermione put in.

Greyback gave him a swift look in hopes of shutting him up before returning his attention to Harry. "What's your name?"

"Dudley," said Harry.

"And your first name?"

"I--Vernon. Vernon Dudley."

"Check the list, Scabior," Greyback ordered as he moved over to Ron. Hermione cringed as she heard Scabior extract a list from his robes pocket and flip through it. They had a list of wanted students; Harry using a completely fabricated name really wasn't going to help their case. "And what about you, ginger?"

He jerked Ron to an upright position and to her relief, Ron appeared to have regained his senses. "Stan Shunpike."

"Like 'ell you are," Scabior denied. Hermione wondered if she could manage to kick him from this position. "We know Stan Shunpike, 'e's put a bit of work our way."

Ron opened his mouth to undoubtedly say something cheeky, but Greyback was already swinging away, his fist thudding right into Ron's open mouth. Hermione flinched as two of his lower teeth spun out of Ron's mouth. He spat out blood, but he kept his head high. "I'b Bardy. Bardy Weadley."

Don't tell them you're a Weasley, Hermione moaned. Death Eaters would probably kill any Weasley they met.

Greyback certainly looked to be especially pleased as he got up again. "A Weasley? So you're related to blood traitors even if you're not a Mudblood." He feinted another punch towards Ron's head and chuckled under his breath as Ron flinched. Greyback motioned for Scabior to step aside and crouched down next to Hermione. She sat up, noticeably trembling, but she swore to herself that she was going to keep her head high just like Ron had. "And lastly, your pretty little friend..."

His voice trailed off in delicious anticipation. Although his hands were nowhere near her, Hermione couldn't help shuddering as though his fingers were passing over the most intimate parts of her body. A couple of Death Eaters who had been searching the tent had come out to watch the questioning jeered their approval. "Easy, Greyback," Scabior warned as he stepped forward to brandish his wand threateningly at Ron who had been poised to strike.

"Oh, I'm not going to bite just yet." Greyback very carefully dropped the one curl that was blocking Hermione's face back in its proper location. He kept his hand dangerously near her throat. His beady eyes bored into hers. The threat was all too clear. "We'll see if she's a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?"

"Penelope Clearwater."

"What's your blood status?"

"Half-blood," Hermione answered while internally kicking herself. Penelope had been attacked by the basilisk in second-year; that meant that she was a Muggle-born which meant she may be registered on their list. Hopefully, they only had a list of current students and no records of alumnus.

Scabior was already rifling through his list. "Easy enough to check," he reported. "But the 'ole lot of 'em look like they could still be 'ogwarts age--"

"We'b lebt," said Ron abruptly, desperate to have the Death Eaters' attention onto him. Hermione wasn't the best at lying; after years of watching the twins, he would be better equipped to talk them out of this mess.

As he had hoped, all of the Death Eaters' eyes swung over to him. "Left, 'ave you, ginger?" said Scabior. "And you decided to go camping? And you thought, just for a laugh, you'd use the Dark Lord's name?"

"Nod a laugh," said Ron, straining to look as apologetic and abashed as possible. "Aggiden."

"Accident?" one of the Death Eaters in front of the tent snorted as his friends jeered.

Greyback gave them a swift glare, and instantly they all went back to work. Hermione used the momentary distraction to try to catch Ron's eye. She knew he was going to try to take the blame for saying Voldemort's name and she wasn't about to let that happen. He however ignored her. Greyback wheeled back to Ron. "You know who used to like using the Dark Lord's name, Weasley?" growled Greyback. "The Order of the Phoenix. Mean anything to you?"

"Doh," lied Ron easily.

Greyback stared at Ron and Hermione unclenched just the slightest bit. He believed them. "Well, they don't show the Dark Lord proper respect, so the name's been Tabooed. A few Order members have been tracked that way. We'll see. Bind them up with the other two prisoners."

Scabior scooped Hermione up, tucking her under his meaty arm like a football and carrying her easily towards a dark cluster a short distance away. Hermione tried to kick free, but with no success. She hated how small these bastards were making her feel. She was dropped unceremoniously next to one of the other prisoners; it was too dark to make out who it was. Harry was pushed into a sitting position next to her and Ron on the other side of him. The Death Eater that had brought Ron over remained to bind them back-to-back with the others. Harry still looked as though he was in a great deal of pain from the Stinging Hex, but as soon as the man tying them had walked away, he whispered to them in his best saving-people voice: "Anyone still got a wand?"

"No," said Ron and Hermione from either side of him.

Harry shook his head despondently. "This is all my fault, I said the name, I'm sorry--"

"Harry?"

Hermione twisted her head around so she could take a close look at the person next to her. When she caught sight of his familiar profile, Hermione groped to squeeze a greeting into his fingers. She was so happy to see her friend again; she just wished it wasn't in these circumstances.

"Dean?" Harry said with surprise.

"It is you!" Dean Thomas craned his neck so he could speak directly to Harry. "If they find out who they've got--! They're Snatchers, they're only looking for truants to sell for gold--"

Hermione poked Dean just in time to silence him as Greyback paced over towards them. Scabior followed close behind, absorbed in his list, while the others continued to crash through the tent. "Not a bad little haul for one night. A Mudblood, a runaway goblin, and three truants. You checked their names on the list yet, Scabior?" he roared.

"Yeah. There's no Vernon Dudley on 'ere, Greyback."

She swore under her breath. She knew that would happen.

Greyback's beady eyes had slid over to examine Harry's puffy but defiant face. "Interesting. That's interesting." He crouched down beside Harry. Hermione tilted her head back so she could try to find Ron, but only succeeded in knocking heads with Dean. They had to find a way to get out of this. "So you aren't wanted, then, Vernon? Or are you on that list under a different name? What House were you in at Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin," said Harry automatically.

"Funny 'ow they all thinks we wants to 'ear that," jeered Scabior out of the shadows. Dean shifted next to her; he must have just tried the same thing. "But none of 'em can tell us where the common room is."

"It's in the dungeons," said Harry clearly. "You enter through the wall. It's full of skulls and stuff and it's under the lake, so the light's all green."

Hermione had never been so happy that Harry had to turn into Gregory Goyle for an hour.

"Well, well, looks like we really 'ave caught a little Slytherin," said Scabior. "Good for you, Vernon, 'cause there ain't a lot of Mudblood Slytherins. Who's your father?"

"He works at the Ministry," Harry lied. "Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"You know what, Greyback," said Scabior. "I think there is a Dudley in there."

A hand, that had been twisting, stretching, and struggling to find her, finally reached its destination and closed around hers. She smiled fleetingly, but quickly tensed up again as she sensed that Ron hadn't just wanted to hold her hand for comfort. Something was wrong. She tried once again to turn around to find him, but the ropes were just much too tight. Luckily, Ron and she could always communicate without words. He repositioned his grip so he could tug her fingers to the left, towards the Death Eaters. Hermione leaned as far as she could so she could see around Harry without losing her grip on Ron. Scabior, the Death Eater with the lists and papers, was staring openly at her, brow furrowed as though he was trying to piece together a particularly difficult puzzle. Ron yanked her fingers, hard. Hermione quickly jerked herself backwards, her chest aching forebodingly. She has a very bad feeling that she may have just made things worse.

They had found the sword by now. Hermione's stomach turned over to see it clenched in Greyback's blood-stained claws, but that was nothing compared the bolt of terror that went through her when Scabior called in triumph, "'ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet!"

Scabior hurried forward, brandishing a newspaper he had just extracted from his pile of parchment. His eyes flicked over to Hermione again so he could point at her and then down at the newspaper. "Look at this picture and what it says: 'ermione Granger, the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with 'arry Potter."

Ron's hand almost crushed her fingers to a pulp. Hermione wriggled her hand uncomfortably and ducked her head so her curls could hide her from further scrutiny. Ron's hand relaxed over hers in a looser but more reassuring grip. She knew he wasn't ever going to let go.

Greyback crouched down in front of Hermione. One of his thick fingers flicked out underneath her chin to lift her face to his slobbering one. He looked just about ready to swallow her whole. He held up the newspaper of her so she could see for herself. It was the photograph of her from the summer before fourth-year. "You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you."

"It isn't! It isn't me!" Hermione squeaked as Greyback's finger began to trace back and forth underneath her chin, a jagged fingernail scratching into her skin.

Ron's hand twitched in hers as Greyback returned his attention to the newspaper, momentarily uninterested in his possible prey. "...known to be traveling with Harry Potter," repeated Greyback quietly.

A stillness had settled over the scene. It was Hermione's turn to squeeze Ron's hand, silently asking him what on earth they were going to do now. This couldn't happen. Ron returned the gesture, but it wasn't the answer she was hoping for: he was just as lost as she was. Hermione started to tremble rather violently. There was a very good chance that they wouldn't survive the night.

"Well, this changes things, doesn't it?" whispered Greyback. He got up and took a couple of steps to where Harry sat, crouching down again to stare closely at his misshapen features. "What's that on your forehead, Vernon?" he asked softly. He pressed a filthy finger to the taut scar.

"Don't touch it!" Harry yelled. Hermione and Ron both wrenched around to stare at Harry, for the first time being able to see each other's pale and terrified faces, Ron's with blood stained on his chin. They knew that tone to Harry's voice: his scar was bothering him. A lot.

But there was no time to wonder why Harry's scar was aching again. Everything was happening much too fast around them. The Death Eaters found the glasses in the tent and were rapidly putting everything together, deciding to take all of them to the Malfoy Manor so they could deliver Harry to Voldemort themselves in order to get the reward money. Before she knew it, she was being forced to her feet Scabior, Apparating to the Malfoy's, and being herded up the long driveway to the ornate manor. Throughout the course of their journey, Ron's hand slipped out of hers whenever one of them was pushed or his palm became too slippery, but would always hastily find her again. She clung to his fingers with all of her might. She couldn't do this with that hand on hers.

Narcissa Malfoy, as blonde, pale, and disdainful as ever, led them through a hallway full of portraits into a massive drawing room. Hermione leaned her head back to take in the dazzling crystal chandelier and the deep purple walls. She had to admit that the Malfoys really had impeccable taste. It was just too bad that this entire house had probably been paid for with dirty Galleons. She and Harry were facing the door they had just come through so they couldn't see who was in the room with them. She gave him a quick glance to make sure that the Stinging Jinx was still in effect. It would probably start wearing off in less than an hour. They were really running out of time.

"What is this?" Lucius Malfoy's voice inquired curiously. Hermione cringed; he was one the last people she wanted to see right now, besides Voldemort, that is.

"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa. "Draco, come here."

She could hear Draco shuffling out of his chair as Greyback forced them to turn so Harry was directly underneath the chandelier, vulnerable and exposed in the bright light. Thankfully, the spell Hermione had used was quite strong, and Draco couldn't seem to make a positive identification. Greyback and Lucius bickered about whether or not it was him while Draco sounded oddly reluctant to help. She would have that Draco would jump at the chance to cart Harry off to Voldemort.

Narcissa also didn't sound certain that Voldemort should be contacted. Eager to convince them, Greyback grabbed Hermione's shoulder. "What about the Mudblood, then?" He shoved her forward to take Harry's position underneath the spotlight. She blinked in the bright light and tried to hide her features with her hair. Malfoy would be able to recognize her in a heartbeat.

"Wait," said Narcissa sharply. "Yes--yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

A Snatcher forced Hermione's face upwards so Draco could have a good long look. For the first time, Hermione met the Slytherin's eyes directly and silently pleaded with him for mercy.

Draco faltered and cast his eyes down to the plush carpet. "I...maybe...yeah."

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron. Hermione squeezed his hand as hard as she could, cursing internally with every foul word Ron had ever taught her. The one bright point of all this had been that Ron had escaped recognition for the time being. But now his spattergroit-alibi was completely blown and the Ministry would have everything they needed to go after the Weasleys. "It's them, Potter's friends--Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name--?"

Ron, Hermione bit out at him silently, too afraid to voice her defiance aloud. Draco kept his back to the prisoners as he replied hesitantly, "Yeah. It could be."

The door behind them banged open. "What is this? What's happened, Cissy?"

Hermione's memory tried to place where she knew that cold, female voice from, but it wasn't until Bellatrix Lestrange had halted right in front of her, staring at her through heavily lidded eyes. Hermione shrank back against Harry and Dean's shoulders, sliding her fingers more securely between Ron's fingers. She could feel Harry trembling against her. Obviously he recognized his godfather's killer as well.

Bellatrix raised a disgusted finger at her. "But surely," she said quietly, "this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"

I have a name too, Hermione thought mulishly at her. Bellatrix caught the defiance in her eyes and narrowed her eyes hatefully at her, but Lucius was already speaking. "Yes, yes, it's Granger! And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!"

The mention of Harry's name shocked Bellatrix enough to forget all about the Mudblood. "Potter?" shrieked Bellatrix, and she backed away, the better to take in Harry. "Are you sure? Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!"

She dragged back her left sleeve to touch the Dark Mark, but Lucius stopped her, arguing that he should be the one to do it. Hermione rolled her eyes; even the best Death Eaters really could be quite idiotic at times. However, they could use all of the limited time they had left. She could feel Ron moving, as though trying to loosen the ropes. Harry and she both remained still, much too exposed to be able to try the slightest thing. She knew Ron despised it, and most days she did too, but today, she was very relieved that Death Eaters didn't really pay attention to Ron Weasley.

"STOP!" Bellatrix shrieked. Ron instantly froze while Hermione suppressed a whimper, thinking that she had seen Ron's struggle. But Bellatrix was actually looking at something behind all of them, and for once she looked terrified. "Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"

Lucius froze, his index finger hovering over his own Mark. Bellatrix strode past them; Hermione managed to twist her neck uncomfortably so she could see her approach the Death Eater she had kicked, who had then punched Ron in the face. He was now clutching the sword. She pointed a shaking finger at it. "What is that?"

"Sword," the Snatcher grunted.

"Give it to me," she commanded with an outstretched hand.

"It's not yorn, missus, it's mine. I reckon I found it."

Hermione couldn't help wincing again as Bellatrix expertly Stunned the Death Eater. He fell to the floor, the sword clattering from his limp hand. His friends let out a roar of anger and Scabior drew his wand. "What d'you think you're playing at, woman?"

"Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Hermione had never seen anyone duel so quickly and adeptly. She had to admit it was quite impressive to see a woman take on four men and win with very little effort. All of the Snatchers were unconscious on the floor in only a few seconds, all except Greyback, who had been forced into a kneeling position, his arms outstretched. Bellatrix bore down upon the werewolf, the sword of Gryffindor gripped tightly in her hand, her face waxen. Somehow, in the midst of the battle, she had also Summoned the sword to her. She really was a very talented witch.

"Where did you get this sword?" she whispered to Greyback as she pulled his wand out of his unresisting grip.

"How dare you?" he snarled. He bared his pointed teeth. "Release me, woman!"

"Where did you find this sword?" she repeated, brandishing it in her face. "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"

Hermione swore again. She had forgotten about that. Ron quietly renewed his struggle to break free while Harry kept silent and still, listening with bated breath, his scar probably still absolutely killing him.

"It was in their tent," rasped Greyback. "Release me, I say!"

She waved her wand, and the werewolf sprang to his feet, but appeared to approach her. He prowled behind an armchair, his filthy curved nails clutching its back. "Draco, move this scum outside," said Bellatrix, indicating the unconscious men. "If you haven't the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

"Don't you dare speak to Draco like--" said Narcissa furiously.

"Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!"

Draco shuffled to the pile of Snatchers and Levitated them with a swish of his wand. He kept casting anxious glances over his shoulder as he led them out of the room. Ron poked a finger into his palm to ask a question. Hermione shrugged her shoulders in response, knowing he would feel her arm move with the hopeless movement. She couldn't understand either why Bellatrix was practically melting down over the sight of the sword. She now stood in front of her prisoners, muttering to herself before making a decision and turning back to her sister. "The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!"

Narcissa gave Bellatrix a very sisterly look of hatred. "This is my house, Bella, you don't give orders in my--"

"Do it! You have no idea of the danger we are in!" shrieked Bellatrix. A thin stream of fire issued from her wand and burned a hole in the carpet. Instinctively, Hermione moved her feet as far away from Bellatrix's wand as possible.

The movement caught Bellatrix's attention and her dark, soulless eyes rose to rest on Hermione again. Even though every inch of her was trembling, Hermione kept her head high. No one was ever going to make her feel small for being a Muggle-born.

Narcissa had ordered Greyback to take them down to the cellar, but Bellatrix held up her hand once again, eyes never leaving Hermione. "Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except...except for the Mudblood."

Harry and Dean both twitched in commiserating fear, but she actually felt a thunderclap pass from Ron's hand into hers as he spoke up for the first time, shouting, "No! You can have me, keep me!" There was a wild desperation in his voice that it terrified Hermione as much, if not more so, than the prospect of being trapped in a room with someone as malicious as Bellatrix Lestrange.

Bellatrix hit him across the face; the blow echoed around the room. Hermione flinched along with him, clinging to his hand with all of her might, trembling down to the tips of her toes. Bellatrix was hissing something at him, but Hermione couldn't hear anything thanks to all of the blood pounding in her eardrums. Ron, just keep quiet, she begged wildly at him, praying that he could somehow understand her just like they could always just take one quick look at each other and know what was happening in the deepest recesses of their souls. She strained to find his eyes before he was dragged away not only to somehow reassure him that she would get through this, but also because if she was going to survive what was to come, she was going to need one last long look into the most perfect eyes she'd ever know.

But it was all happening too fast. She was being cut free by a small silver knife and shoved forward, her hand being wrenched painfully away from his touch, he was being hustled out of the room, lost in the small herd of other captives and between them now was Bellatrix, dragging her by the hair to the center of the room. The door shut behind them with a definitive bang, cutting off any possibility of hope. She was alone.

Bellatrix didn't waste any time. She threw her hard to the floor and even before Hermione's body hit the stone floor, the first round of Cruciatus was violently attacking all of her senses. Stinging bolts of wildfire coursed through her blood. Hermione twitched and retched and shuddered as her entire body tried to repel the searing pain being inflicted upon her, but she would not scream; she would not give this horrible woman the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Blood beaded out of her lip from the Herculean effort, but she continued to bite down on her lip as hard as she could, her entire body still convulsing, vision blurring, sirens ringing in her ears, telling herself over and over again to hold out just a little while longer--agony like this couldn't last forever--if she ever meant to question her, it would have to stop eventually--it had to stop--it must--stop--please, stop--please--no--stop--please--

"There we go!" Bellatrix crooned happily. Instantly, the curse was released and Hermione lay gasping on the floor, blood still dribbling on her chin as the shrill echoes of screams still bounced off the walls as mocking proof that she once again had failed. "That's the kind of scream I'm talking about! Let's hear it again, shall we--?"

"No--" Hermione tried to get out before she was assaulted again. All of her insides tried to burst out of her skin in hopes of escaping, but there was no escape. She was utterly trapped. She could dimly hear Bellatrix shouting at her to tell her where the sword had come from, but she couldn't have spoken if she tried. You couldn't very well speak while your vocal cords, not to mention every speck of your skin, were on fire.

Perhaps Bellatrix realized this too, for she removed the curse again so she could seize another handful of Hermione's hair and wrench her up into a sitting position. The rough motion caused Hermione to nearly hurl all over the vile woman, but she managed to keep it in and closed her eyes to fight the dizziness and white-hot spots popping up across her vision. She had to get her wits about her before it was too late.

Bellatrix had knelt down beside her and dropped her wand, clicking her fingers for the ruby-encrusted sword which she pressed against Hermione's cheek. The cool blade felt so good against Hermione's flushed skin that the decidedly threatening gesture became oddly comforting. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"

The blade was digging deeper and deeper into her flesh, beginning to slice little nicks that would soon add up to be one giant gash that would surely spill all of her blood onto the stone floor. Hermione squirmed in hopes of avoiding the sword, but there was nowhere to go thanks to Bellatrix's firm hold. "We found it--we found it--" Bellatrix quickly dropped the sword to snatch her wand again. "PLEASE!"

She started to shriek again, thinking that the curse would be shuddering through her system at any moment, but to her shock, the Death Eater halted, wand pointed right at Hermione's head. "Please what?" she whispered. Her smirk expanded all the way across her loathsome face. Her voice was as soft and terrifying as death itself. "That's right, Mudblood, beg for mercy. Go on."

It was so sick and wrong and it went against every fiber of her being, but unfortunately, Hermione's being was rather compromised at the moment. She dimly recalled reading about Cruciatus in fourth-year Defense class and despite her impaired brain capacity, could recite almost verbatim the text she had so studiously read three years ago: The Cruciatus Curse is not only horrifying because of the extreme amounts of physical pain the victim is put through, but also due to the effects on the victim's mental state. Like the Imperius Curse (see page 207), Cruciatus attacks the mind and will cause impaired judgment, decreased willpower, and basically the inability of the afflicted to process and think for his or herself. The brain itself will undergo a heavy assault, causing in some cases of extended exposure, memory loss, personality changes, and temporary or permanent insanity. Hermione had been horrified to read about such a horrendous curse, and even more so when she learned that her very best friend had undergone such a horror, but it was only now that she fully grasped why this was called an Unforgivable Curse. Using this on someone was a crime against humanity.

So, thanks to her impaired mental state, Hermione heeded to Bellatrix's request and with tears streaming over her lips, she pleaded in a barely audible voice, "We did find it--I promise you--please--"

A resounding slap to her face effectively silenced the rest of that statement. "You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

Her veins were sizzling again, turning Hermione inside out and twisting her into irreparable knots, and she was screaming again, screaming so loudly that someone had to hear her at Hogwarts or the Burrow or in Australia or in the cellar below. Her only hope for survival was to keep on screaming not only because maybe someone somewhere would have mercy and help her, but also because as long as she screamed, she couldn't talk. And if she couldn't speak, she couldn't confess everything as she was violently afraid that she would eventually do if this continued much longer.

Hermione's scream was almost a primal howl as she tried her best to claw out her brains so it would stop. She was the only person who could make this stop and since confessing was out of the question, she would just have to mash her brains out. Her fingers groped wildly at her skull in hopes of somehow penetrating the thick bone, but of course, that wasn't going to work. She would just have to smash her head into the floor. That was the only solution. She just had to die. Harry would understand. He knew all about self-sacrifice. And Ron--her heart instantly broke as she envisioned his face--Ron.

Bellatrix had seized her by the hair once again so she could press another blade against her, this one much smaller but nevertheless equally as deadly. "What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

To illustrate her point, she moved the knife to the vulnerable area an inch below the belly button and with the expertise of a surgeon, dragged the blade through her skin in an irregular pattern that Hermione couldn't quite place. Hermione once again tried not to scream or show any indication of weakness, but she could only hold out a few seconds before she was screaming bloody murder again. She really wasn't lasting very well under torture. No wonder she had received an 'E' on her O.W.L.

Flinging the knife aside for now, Bellatrix's wand was back and pointing at the wound she had just carved into Hermione's stomach. "What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

And this time, when the curse struck her helpless body, Hermione somehow knew that this would be the worse. She knew that it had to happen eventually and it was probably a miracle that it hadn't already, but this time, as her body was slammed with the most extreme duress, her blasted Ministry injury kicked in full force, causing her entire ribcage to jump spastically in blinding pain and terror. Hermione grabbed her chest and wheezed in hopes of making it stop. If it didn't she'd probably go into cardiac arrest, although Hermione would rather welcome a heart attack right now. At least that could kill her quickly and effectively. She couldn't help remembering the first time she had experienced these chest pains, woozily sitting on a table in the Department of Mysteries, legs dangling uselessly, chest throbbing, forehead leaning against Ron's strong form, Ron's steady reassuring heartbeat, Ron's thumb wiping away a lone hot tear, Ron's voice quietly begging her not to cry--Ron--wonderful Ron--

And maybe it was simply from pure longing that she imagined a voice screaming her name at the top of his lungs--perhaps she was imagining it in her delirium--but she couldn't deny that it was there: his voice was there, cutting as deeply as Dolohov's purple flame or Bellatrix's Crucios. There was nothing in the world that could go through her like Ron's voice, especially now as it was, raw with terror, but still so wildly determined and passionate just like he was. Hermione stirred slightly towards the door in hopes of hearing it better, becoming more and more convinced that she wasn't dreaming. He was there. He must have been shouting for her all of this time; she couldn't believe she hadn't heard him until now. Even though they were trapped somewhere much too far away, he was going to scream to her with all he had in hopes of letting her know that he was there, he was fighting for her, and he hadn't forgotten his promise that nothing would ever happen to her as long as he was around. He couldn't be there right now, but he could hear her suffering and he would be there just as soon as humanly--

Time suddenly stopped dead.

He could hear her.

Hope poured over her aching mind like the sweetest of balms along with the next sentences in her Defense text: However, like most Dark spells, Cruciatus, in spite of its strengths, can be fought with a hefty amount of willpower, self-control, and above all, positive reinforcement. Dark spells can pollute your mind, just like a dementor can drain all of your best memories. It can be fought with the same great feats of strength that it takes to produce of corporeal Patronus or block Imperius. Intense concentration is needed, which obviously is most difficult while undergoing Cruciatus' effects, but it is possible.

He could hear her screaming and she could hear him. That meant--

It is possible.

She could communicate with them--if she shouted loud enough--

It can be fought.

She could lie. And they'd back her up.

It is possible.

Ron Weasley may never know it, but he had just saved her life again.

Although she knew it was only a second or two had actually passed, it felt like years. Everything was slowing down now, growing fuzzy and dim around the corners of her mind and eyes, and yet things were becoming so clear. She barely felt it when Bellatrix snapped her head back, yanking so hard that extricated a great chunk of Hermione's hair and had to disgustedly brush it off her fingers before seizing her again. "How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

And just like that, Bellatrix had planted the final seed of Hermione's sudden plan. Hermione was still sobbing, harder than ever actually--she'd probably never stop--but she still clung as tightly as she could to that shard of hope Ron had produced and spoke, "We only met him tonight! We've never been inside your vault...It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"

Her wand jammed into the underside of Hermione's chin, but before another spell could be uttered, Lucius Malfoy was speaking. "But we can find out easily! Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

Hermione rolled her eyes towards the door so she could see Draco scuttle out of the room, his already pale face absolutely bloodless. She had completely forgotten that there were other people in the room. Lucius watched grimly from a corner, his head still held high in his usual haughty way. Narcissa Malfoy had actually turned her back to the scene as no mother could ever bear to see a child tortured in such a way. The only person besides Bellatrix who seemed to be really enjoying himself was Fenrir Greyback, who was pacing eagerly back and forth a few yards away, preparing to pounce onto his potential snack as soon as his superior gave the word.

Taking advantage of the small respite in the torture session, Greyback slinked a few steps forward towards Bellatrix. "Don't scorch her too much," he pleaded longingly. His eyes fastened ravenously on the helpless girl curled up on the floor, his entire body heaving as he watched the blood continue to seep out of the small puncture wound in her abdomen. "She won't taste as sweet."

Bellatrix let out a raucous chuckle. "A Mudblood? Taste sweet?"

"They have the best flavor," Greyback affirmed ravenously. Beads of saliva were dribbling out of his mouth as his fingers twitched towards the potential victim. "Maybe it's the dirt in their veins, but it is so sweet, especially in the little girls. And you can tell that this one is pure, so pure, the purest, untouched, undiluted--filthy, yes, of course--" His leer took up his entire face, causing the drool to pour openly over his chin. "But I tell you, nothing tastes as sweet as a Mudblood virgin."

Hermione let out a wracking shudder that shattered the momentary hope that Ron's voice had brought her. She never wanted anyone to ever look at her like that ever again. It made her want to crawl out of her skin. Ron, please--

"Is that so?" Bellatrix asked in a familiar drawl that proved that she was from the Malfoy bloodline. "Well, then, Fenrir, I shall be very careful--"

The unexpected bout of Cruciatus blasted into the left side of her face, causing Hermione to become blind, deaf, and paralyzed on that side of her body. It had happened so quickly that Hermione had had no chance to employ the few defensive measures she had left, so she succumbed the curse as utterly as she had the very first time it was used on her. She could no longer hold her head upright. She would have collapsed completely if Bellatrix hadn't kept her iron grip on her head. The Dolohov-induced palpitations rendered her lungs useless, so when the curse was finally removed, Hermione still couldn't breathe. She could feel her trembling lungs struggle to inflate, but the bronchial tubes were simply too inflamed to move one millimeter. Her heart pounded and pounded as the left side of her arm ached warningly. Here it was--just as she feared--cardiac arrest seemed imminent now--

But Narcissa Malfoy was striding forward, pulling out his wand, and flicking it expertly at Hermione's gasping form. A concentrated burst of cold air forced their way through her lungs with a pained pop and Hermione let out another mighty gasp, but this time, oxygen trickled its way through the necessary passages and her heart quickly calmed itself while her arm now only throbbed from the remnants of the curses. Her eyes swam gratefully towards her unexpected savior. She had never thought she'd see a day where a Malfoy saved her.

Bellatrix wheeled on the witch with all of the fury of a thousand Inferi. "Cissy, what do you think you're doing?"

"She's no good to us dead," Narcissa reminded her sister coldly. She pocketed her wand and returned to her post. "We can't kill her until we're certain we've extracted all of the information."

"Cissy--"

"We can't touch Potter and the Weasley boy is a useless blood-traitor," Narcissa carried on remorselessly. Her eyes shone as arrogantly as her son's, but Hermione was no longer repulsed by such a display of unrestrained pride, not when that pride was helping save her life. "That girl may be a Mudblood, but she is a smart Mudblood, from what my son tells me. She is the one who would have the answers." She raised herself higher on her high heels so she could be just a few more inches taller than Bellatrix. "She needs to stay alive."

Bellatrix's face remained twisted with outrage at such blatant defiance. Lucius looked back and forth between the two women, braced to intervene if they turned on each other. He stiffened when Bellatrix's wand flicked again, but he needn't had worried. Bellatrix only had one person she intended to torture tonight. "So be it," Bellatrix said in a low throaty voice. Her wand wandered along the length of Hermione's body in a careful search for the perfect spot to inflict the most damage. "But the Mudblood is tough--she'd have to be to run around with Potter." She finally settled on the spot between Hermione's eyes and laughed as Hermione cringed in anticipation. "She can take some more."

This blast of Cruciatus was so strong that Hermione defied the laws of physics, flipping out of her slumped position on the floor and spinning backwards so she landed hard on her stomach, knocking the wind out of her again. Her fingers curled around the floor in a vain attempt to grab something to help her ward off the pain or hurl something at her captors or finally enact her original plan of killing herself just so this would bloody stop--why did something have to hurt so much?

It ended and Hermione's scream was cut off with a loud whimper. All she could move was her head, which she lifted a few inches so she could see what had stopped the onslaught this time. Draco had returned with a barely conscious Griphook in tow. His eyes never left Hermione who did the unthinkable and tried to murmur for him to help her. But as expected, he ignored it and brought the prisoner forward. Bellatrix stepped away from Hermione to retrieve the sword she had tossed aside earlier, but it was at that moment that loud, telltale crack echoed somewhere below them.

Everyone froze. Hermione couldn't breathe again, but this time, it was a very nice feeling. This was a hopeful breathlessness. All of others, on the other hand, looked appalled to say the least. Bellatrix actually snarled with rage, but Lucius was speaking over her, "What was that? Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" Draco, anxious to leave the torture room, passed control of the goblin off to Greyback before starting towards the door, but his father's voice stopped him. "Draco--no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

Draco quickened his step to comply and left the room, calling for the cowardly Death Eater. Lucius opened his mouth to speak again, but Bellatrix held her hand up high to command absolute silence. She stepped lightly to resume her place directly in front of Hermione and pointed her wand at her victim, keeping her eyes on the door. Hermione gritted her teeth and did her best to regain any bit of strength. They all knew that something was happening in the cellar and Hermione would be damned if she just lay here and did nothing to help her best friends. She had to do something.

They all listened as they heard Wormtail order the prisoners to step away from the door so he could enter. They heard the hinges creak. They heard the quick scuffle of footsteps.

And then nothing.

Hermione's insides squirmed. She honestly had no idea if that long, heavy silence meant she was blissfully close to freedom or she was closer than ever to death. Bellatrix actually looked nervous as she pressed her foot against Hermione's shoulder blade to keep her pinned to the floor. Apparently, she planned to use Hermione as a hostage if anything had gone wrong with their other prisoners.

Lucius finally couldn't take it anymore and crossed to the doorway. "What is it, Wormtail?"

"Nothing! All fine!"

All of the Death Eaters visibly relaxed, but Hermione couldn't help straightening up and lifting herself higher off the floor, eyes wide, heart soaring. She knew that voice anywhere.

"Stay down!" Bellatrix hissed, stomping cruelly on Hermione's shoulder to force her back to the ground. Hermione's scapula squeaked and cracked in protest, but Hermione could care less. She barely realized that her entire body was still trembling and aching and straining to die as she smiled into the cold, welcoming floor. All she could think about was how wonderful it was that Ron was so good at imitating people. It was the one of the thousands of things she loved about him.

"Bring him forward," Bellatrix commanded to Greyback as she snapped her fingers at the barely conscious goblin. With a grunt, Greyback complied and shook the poor thing violently until he opened his eyes with a moan. Bellatrix then waved an impatient hand at Draco who came forward to retrieve Gryffindor's sword for her. As he did so, Bellatrix removed her foot from Hermione's back and turned her over with the toe of her dangerously pointed high heels. "Don't say a word," she warned in a whisper before ensuring Hermione's silence by sticking her wand halfway into Hermione's mouth and firing one final Cruciatus deep into her gullet.

And that was it. That was all her body could take--it had surpassed its threshold for pain and now it was exploding in outrage and indignation, punishing Hermione cruelly for what she was allowing to be done to it. Through a swirl of sirens and ghostly screams, she could hear Bellatrix ordering the sword and Griphook to be brought to her to question him properly. Her eyes had remained half-open, but her vision had failed her so all she saw were colors massing together in a dizzying cacophony that confused her more than ever. Other words and sounds were floating in and out of her awareness, telling her that Griphook had indeed lied for her and Greyback was ecstatic about something and Ron was there--was Ron here? But perhaps that was just a dream. She couldn't tell anymore. She finally had succeeded--her brains were officially as mushy as Polyjuice Potion that had sat out in the sun for too long.

Now the colors of the world were falling--falling, falling, falling down and down and down--things were falling apart all around her--she could sense that--but she couldn't tell what or where or how or why--it was all spinning completely out of control--but she never really had control in the first place--the world was shattering, exploding, shuddering, dying--they were all dying--there was nothing left--nothing--nothing--

Nothing.


The following is not of my invention---- All dialogue-- Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Scholastic. New York: 2007. Chapter Twenty-Three: Malfoy Manor. p. 446-470.