With her head held high, Bellatrix Lestrange sauntered through the shattered, once magnificent, courtyard of the ancient Scottish stronghold. The Dark Lord's favorite was insanity incarnate: grungy, greasy, with any semblance of her beauty long gone. Her ebony curls had gone wild, twisting every which way – as if they had a life of their own. A disturbing smile curled at her mouth, revealing yellowed and rotted teeth. High cheekbones were hollowed with weight loss and her eyes were filled with fire. Her robes were tattered and blood smeared; the dagger clutched in her hand was stained with a shade of cranberry, despite her wand that was held in the other.
Hermione felt a chill settle into the pit of her stomach.
Involuntarily, her right hand went to cover the scar on her left forearm, despite the fact it was hidden beneath her sweater. Her greatest flaw as a witch was now forever carved into her skin in a rosy hue of scar tissue. Mudblood. To some, she was some foul abomination; a disease that needed to be terminated – nothing more than a taint on the near-virginal purity that these animals claimed to have. In spite of being immobilized by fear, the young Gryffindor felt her blood begin to boil. The dead lay stacked around them, slayed by the Death Eater's hands. Friends, family, people she had never spoken to – all stilled permanently. They had given everything for freedom from this filth and devastation, and it had been in utter vain.
"Mudblood?" Hermione felt a shudder crawl up her spine as Bellatrix crooned softly. "What's it doing still alive?" Lestrange had cocked her head to one side, watching Hermione as if she were some odd curio. The glee slid from her face like oil on water; her lips drew closer together in a small, vexed frown. Hermione trembled visibly, and clutched her vine wand as the lifeline it was. The Dragon Heartstring tucked inside was all that was keeping her from crossing the boundary that stood between breathing and premature silence.
"Has it been hiding?" The last word passed through her lips in an awful hiss: Hermione's fear became so palpable she thought she would choke on it. She swallowed, trying to force the lump in her throat down her esophagus. Bellatrix, still watching carefully, made a gentle clucking sound in the back of her throat – as if she were Madame Pomfrey, come to bandage wounds. She continued in a tone so sweet that the decay it carried was tangible. "I think I'll play a game with it. Would you like that, Mudblood?" The Death Eater took a small, predatory step forward, with a small smirk tugging on her thin lips.
"St-stay back!" Hermione stumbled backwards, struggling to hold her wand steady. Her heart leapt into her mouth, and suddenly, it was as if her lungs could not take enough air in.
"I don't want anyone else to try to help," Harry said loudly, sparing a moment to glance back at Bellatrix's sprawled form. Her chest was still; Molly had been triumphant. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
"Potter doesn't mean that," Voldemort hissed, "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"
"Nobody. There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…"
Harry and Voldemort still circled one another predatorily, waiting for the first strike to fall. With his bloodless lips curled into a snarl, Voldemort moved with a dangerous grace, his robes swishing softly about his deceivingly frail figure. Hermione watched Harry anxiously, feeling bile rise to her throat, and kept her wand clenched tightly in her hand. This would be the end. After months of hunting and heartache and fear and nauseating circumstances, life had simmered, boiled, and then evaporated into this singular duel.
The Great Hall was silent. All eyes were upon the Boy Who Lived.
"One of us?" Asked Voldenmort, arrogance dripping from his voice. He laughed hollowly, his voice ascending into a wild cackle. "I think not."
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" A shill screech rang out, and in sheer horror, Hermione whipped her head from Harry to the source of the cry; Bellatrix stood on both feet, her eyes wild with excitement. The Dark Lord's favorite pet would be his salvation. A green jet of light crackled through the air, arcing and hitting Harry square in the chest before he had time to react, knocking his body backwards near ten feet, before he skidded to a halt at the Dark Lord's feet. There was momentary silence and then only screams. Screams rang from students and teachers alike, but Hermione found that her voice had vanished; her cry of rage and fear was unable to join the physical cacophony.
Harry Potter was dead.
"Time to die!" Screeched Bellatrix, laughing madly, and she held her dagger at the ready. Hermione flailed, attempting to steady herself rather than fall backwards, but failed, and crumpled into a heap of fiery agony and grief. Bellatrix rushed her, moving like lightening, and held the dagger to Hermione's throat before the young witch had time to react. Hermione squirmed, helplessly attempting to wriggle her way out of the pathway of the knife, but merely managed to neatly slice herself beneath the ear.
"Shall I kill you like I did your little boyfriend?" Bellatrix hissed into her ear, "Or should we have a little fun, like I did with the ginger?" Hermione continued to squirm, ignoring the blood that stained her shirt, and reached backwards for her wand – it had rolled just beyond her reach, and she knew that she would die a gruesome death if she could not rescue it.
"Answer me, Mudblood!" Hermione spat in Bellatrix's face, and the saliva slid down her cheek, leaving a greasy stain in its wake. "Oh, that's how we want to play?" snarled Bellatrix, and she applied more pressure to the blade that rested upon Hermione's neck. "The ginger tried to fight too. Stupid boy is bleeding to death somewhere back there."
"No!" Hermione said shrilly, still squirming backwards for her wand, "No he isn't!"
"Oh he is!" said Bellatrix gleefully, her grin revealing rotted teeth, "I split him from navel to nose. I've always wanted to try that and he was a nasty little blood-traitor-"
"Crucio!" screamed Hermione, having finally snatched her wand from where it laid, and shot the spell directly between Bellatrix's eyes. The woman merely laughed as her body contorted over-backwards, "Crucio – Crucio – Crucio - CRUCIO!" screamed Hermione, finally evoking a throaty scream from Bellatrix, and she stood shakily, pointing her wand down at her victim. Bellatrix Lestrange curled up on herself, rocking back and forth, sucking upon a grimy thumb like a toddler.
"What have you done with Ron?!" Hermione screamed, and Bellatrix merely whimpered. "ANSWER ME."
"I've told you!" Bellatrix whimpered, "I've killed him!"
"CRUCIO!" Hermione had never meant something more in the entirety of her life. Red light erupted and crackled from the end of her wand, hitting Bellatrix squarely in the chest, and an animalistic howl ripped from her throat. How long Hermione let it go on, she did not know – but when the spell ran its course, Bellatrix was still, her black eyes filled with an empty stare, her hand twitching feebly.
Breath left her lungs in ragged gasps, and Hermione sobbed unashamedly.
"Ah…" said a voice from behind her. "So you are alive. We shall have to have that remedied."
Hermione turned just in time to see Voldemort's greasy smile and a brilliant flash of emerald light.