It's dark and cold in the little dungeon cell. There's a steady dripping noise coming from the corner caused by a leak in the ceiling. Other than that consent steady drip, the place has an eerie silence about it. No movements, no voices. Not even the sounds of tortured screams vibrate through the darkness. This indicates that it must be very late at night. Perhaps midnight? Perhaps even later? Maybe it's very early in the morning? At times the yelling goes long into the night. But thankfully, although slightly disturbing, the quiet is welcome.

Hermione Granger curls her numb toes against the cracking stone floor and rubs the sleep from her eyes. There's a pounding in the back of her head and her chest feels sore and heavy when she takes a breath. She stands, leaning against the wall, feeling weak. She closes her eyes and drinks in the silence that probably won't last more than an hour. Usually the noises kept her awake and afraid, but the pause for the last couple of hours allowed sleep to overtake her fear. Now a little less sleep deprived, she's ready to try and once again find a flaw in this cell that will let her out.

Around the edges of the walls with her feet, firmly wiggling each steal bar, touching each crack in reach, and trying to pick the charmed lock till her fingertips bleed. Again, no flaw was found. Hermione flies back away from the bars as the first sound of the morning echoes around her. The sound of jingling keys and booted footsteps. A harsh cry splits the air. It seems someone's already having a horrific day.

A shadowed figure stops in front of her door and the silver keys glint menacingly. The anxiety wave that overcomes her is intense. Her stomach ties in knots, her heart pounds so hard it hurts, and she can feel herself start to shake. They have come for her early today; usually she was the one screaming late at night when her torturers could take out their frustrations of the day on her. The unusualness was terrifying. What if they thought of new ways to get information out of her?

The cell opened with a squeal and a large gloved hand reached in and grabbed her by the collar of her thin black T-shirt. Her heart raced as she was pulled out of the small security of her cell. As scared as she was, she knew better than to resist. If she did, she would become a quivering bloody mess on the cold floor, already sore before her torture begins. She had tried it once before, it had been agony by the time she was sent back to her cell. She had passed out and had not woken up until the came to drag her out again hours later.

The large man with the keys opened the door at the top of the stairs he had lead her up. Hermione squinted at the blinding early morning sunrise peaking in through the large windows. It hurt so much after being in almost pitch black for so long, it made her big brown eyes water lightly. She blinked it away and her eyes focused as she was being seated and tied to a heavy wooden chair. Wrists to its thick wooden arms, ankles to its hard wooden legs, and waist to its cold back; it was a feeling she was slowly becoming accustomed to. For good reason it sent an army of panic each time the final knot was finished.

Which is what was happening to her now. She felt like she was going to be sick. She may have been if there had been anything in her, but she hadn't eaten in about three days and had only gotten any water from the puddle the dripping ceiling made on her cell floor. Hermione bowed her head, trying to fight off the wave of nauseous panic. She dug her short finger nails into the wood of the chair, breaking two of her nails and causing a dull pain.

"Hermione?" a voice whispered

She flinched, but this voice did not sound vicious like the ones she was used to. It sounded familiar even, soft and a bit disbelieving. A warm finger touched under her chin, bringing her face up to another. Her jaw dropped against that finger, her eyes widened further making them look even larger.

"George!" her voice came out cracked and rough. The only times she ever used her voice nowadays was when she was pushed into a screaming fit by torture or nightmares. "What... how… you—are you okay?" she stammered out, her voice cracking again at the end. It wasn't exactly what she wanted to say, but it was out there now. Her mind was racing. How did he get here? How long has he been here? Is he okay?

"For now. They just got me this morning, damned buggers. But you! You're alive, Hermione!" he blared, smiling goofily at her. She didn't understand how he could be so happy. Did he not understand what was about to happen to them?

"George, listen! You're not tied up; you have to get out of here. Go before—" before she could finish, the door crashed open and Bellatrix Lestrange emerged from the doorway. George slowly released her chin and casually put his hands behind his back.

"Ms. Strange, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he said sarcastically, nodding his head in Bellatrix's direction.

Her venom black eyes flicked him up and down and her ridiculous curls bobbed on her head as she tapped her foot. Bellatrix spins around to the two big men that stood behind her. She sneers at them and they stare at her, confused.

"You imbeciles! You've brought me the wrong Weasley!" she snarls with a slap on each mans' chubby face. "Out! Get out! Before I throw you in chairs alongside her!"

"I personally think I'm a wonderful Weasley," George challenged as the two men hurried out, closing the door behind them. Bellatrix eyed him quietly. With a flick of her wand George ended up in the same arrangement as Hermione, they were face to face.

"I'm looking for a Ronald Bilius Weasley. And you seem to be the older brother. The twin. Whether you are the one that starts with an 'F' or a 'G' I do not care. You are not correct and need to be disposed of!" she ranted as she circled them, like a lioness about to go in for the kill. "But, my thought has said to keep you when everyone else wanted to kill you. You see-"she leaned in close to the side of Georges face. He wouldn't look at her; he stared straight ahead, keeping his hazel eyes on Hermione. "I think you have information. You may not be the closest link, but you are close. Close enough to tell me what I need to know. Now tell me like a good little twin, where is the Order located? What about Ronald? Or more importantly, tell me… where is Harry Potter?" she said the last part delicately. Almost as if she thought a sweeter voice would persuade him to tell her anything. Her thought process seemed to be that George was a man and could never resist it when a girl puts on a sweet voice. But Bellatrix was not sweet. She was a vile creature and George wasn't that kind of person.

"I don't believe I know what you're talking about," he answered nonchalantly. Hermione couldn't believe how he was staying so calm. She felt as if she were about to fall apart. Her heart was thudding so hard that she was sure Bellatrix could hear it. Hermione tried to plead to George with her eyes, trying to coax him not to joke with her. Something bad was going to happen and she wasn't sure she could take seeing a friend in pain.

Bellatrix grabbed a handful of his shaggy red hair and tilted his face up toward hers. She then slapped him as hard as she could, her black polished nails leaving little nicks in his perfect skin. George never even flinched, his hazel eyes gleamed, full of life even when in deep trouble.

"Now that was rude," he commented, instilling another slap to his cheek. It grew pink, as if he were blushing or cold, but the red nail marks told another story.

She backed away from him and flicked her wand at his chair. The chair lurched backwards and slammed into the white wall behind him. That earned a grimace and Bellatrix replied with a satisfied smug look. She 'humphed' and turned her back to him, placing a hand on each of Hermione's bare forearms. Those menacing nails dug into the white skin, the first part of her good morning torture.

"I have to make time for you missy. You're the one that I know is just booming with information for me. You already know what I want to know so I won't waste time with the boring part. Let's have some fun!" Bellatrix cackled and produced her wand. Hermione knows what is coming when Bellatrix twists her right arm over and tightens the ropes. She tries to move, kick, anything, but she can't. The bindings on her are just too tight and she has no energy. Hermione turns her head away from a staring George, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable. No one has ever really seen her like this, so helpless, usually she can get herself out of anything. What has she become?

Hermione bites her lip in an attempt to keep quiet. White hot burning pain sputters on her arm as Bellatrix slowly carves another word with her wand. Little tears prick her eyes as she clenches and unclenches her hands, trying to drive the pain away. It's a forever burning pain, it doesn't stop on the first letter as Bellatrix starts the next. She glances down and sees blood positively pouring down from a large freshly cut 'F', the next letter she cannot see. Her torturer creates a fast line through her skin and it pushes her over the edge. Hermione turns her head the other direction and lets out a piercing scream.

George's stomach rolls into a knot at that scream. He has never, ever heard a scream like that before. Pure pain. And he can't even help. He jerks around and tries to bring his arms up to release the ropes, but nothing works. He is left staring at tortured tear filled eyes and hearing sad pain filled screams.

This goes on for two hours. By the end, blood has drenched the wood floor below Hermione's arm. Her face is a pale white and her head keeps swaying backward as if she's about to pass out. Bellatrix runs a clawed finger across the bloody scars she caused, creating a red streak and Hermione shutters at the sting. The woman walks slowly to George, leans down in front of him, and swipes the finger across his cheek. His face goes hard as she licks the rest of it from her finger.

"See you two later," she says sweetly, causing a jolt of disgust to go through George's body.