A/N Alrighty, This is my first fanfitction. My Hyperactive mind would not shut up, so i decided to write this. I know im not the best, so let me know what i could improve on. Criticism is welcome. Also, im sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes. It is early in the morning here and im quite tired. Furthermore, i do not own anything! Kaythanks, bye(:
Strength.
She had memorized the definition.
state, property, or quality of being strong.
power to resist attack; impregnability.
power to resist strain or stress; durability.
ability to maintain a moral or intellectual position firmly.
She was always the strong one. Perhaps if only in the naive eyes of others. The one who held things together; the glue that binded everyone securely. The pillars that held everyone up when they blindly crumbled apart. The one who never broke. Every tear that was shed, or life that was lost, crashed upon her shoulders like a cinder block. Weighing her down, until she would suffocate in the vast sea of her guilt. It was her fault. The terror that had bathed the streets in blood was all her fault. She could still hear the terrifying, blood curteling screams of the muggles as they were castrated and tortured. Their pleading still ringed in her ears, each one amplifying as time embraced them as her own permanent torture. Surely, it was fair for her to live through all the suffering she'd caused them. Though, there was only one persistent memory she desperately tried to claw her mind away from. Yet it always came back.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw the silhouette of a figure that layed still as a corpse. A metallic door ringed open, and hit the stone wall with a bone shattering bang. A dull light illuminated the unmoving figure. As soon as her eyes rested on the body a sob was caught in her throat. Ron. Red hair haphazardly flowed out over his forehead. Through the battered black and blue on his cheeks she could still see freckles spotted on his face. A bloody gash ran from the corner of his left eye to the crook of his mouth. Blood was freshly speckled on his pale lips. Suddenly, a high pitched chuckle bounced off the cell walls. Bellatrix came sauntering in, her hair was piled like a rats nest on top of her head. Her eyes had dark rings around them and were a sunken in hallow holes. She smiled, and the meer memory of it sent chills up Hermione's spine.
"You."Wake up!" She growled towards Ron. His body still laid unmoving.
She lunged her leg into Ron's ribs. He let out a sound that was a combined groan, and choke. He clutched his side, as if his insides were collapsing. Hermione breathed a sigh of panic and relief, it was the first indicator she had that he was still alive. Bellatrix twitched in hermione's direction.
"Where's Potter?"
" I don't know."
Bellatrix tilted her head back and let out a long, sinister laugh. She thrust her wand towards Ron.
"Crucio" she spat.
Ron quaked in pain. She only held him under it for ten seconds, but felt like an eternity to Hermione of hearing his screams.
"I'll ask you one more time. Where's Potter?" she demanded.
Hermione stared into her soulless eyes, refusing to give in.
"Crucio"
Ron's cry's quaked hermione's soul. All Hermione could her were his pleas for the suffering to stop. He grew louder, and he began to pale further. Hermione's chest convulsed with sobs. She screamed his name but her voice was asphyxiated by his shrieks.
"Stop it! Stop it! Please. I'll tell you! Please. Just stop torturing him! I'll tell you."
As soon as the words of Harry's whereabouts left her lips, Bellatrix cast a look back at Ron.
"Avada Kedevra"
"Ron! No! No! Please no! You can't do this! Ron!"
"I love you,Ron! Please come back! Please. I need you", Hermione sobbed as she clutched onto Ron's corpse.
The last thing Hermione heard was Bellatrix's' laugh.
The war waged for three months. The death eaters captured Harry. The only option Harry had left was to kill himself, so voldemort would fall with him. If Hermione hadn't given in, Harry could have found a way to survive. It was all her fault. Harry was dead, Ron was dead. Along with her family, half the muggle population. Every life taken during the three months of war that waged between good and evil was her fault. Though they ultimately won, nothing was left but the rubble of once-was strength.
Where was her strength now?
It was grasped heavily by her fingers, being dragged across her flesh. Carved into her skin.
Strength