A/N: My first fic! Yes, I know, there are a ton of Hermione's POV Malfoy Manor stories, but this idea just popped into my head and wouldn't leave. Hope you like it! :)

Cursed Miracle

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."

"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except…except for the Mudblood."

"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!"

No! She tried to scream, but the word wouldn't leave her lips. Not him, she begged silently, not Ron. You can do anything you want to me, just don't hurt him. Please. But even as she thought these words, she felt Bellatrix break into her mind. She tried to stop it, but unlike Harry, she had never had practice in Occlumency, and unfortunately, theory alone would not suffice this time. The Death Eater's voice whispered to her, mocking her, jeering at her.

How sweet, she cooed, to hear the helpless beg for mercy…

Relief overwhelmed Hermione as she heard her fellow prisoners, Ron among them, being forced down into the cellar. He was safe, for the moment, even if she was not. Whatever horrors awaited them in that cellar, none could be worse than the one she was facing. Bellatrix's voice once again cut through Hermione's newest thoughts.

I wouldn't be relieved for long, Mudblood. Soon you will be dead and your boyfriend will have the pleasure of knowing me better… I can do anything I want, you say? Then let the games begin… Hermione saw her captor mouth a single word. Crucio.

Hermione felt the skin being ripped from her body, the raw flesh pierced with thousands of tiny, white-hot daggers. Her eyes were screwed shut in agony, but she resolved not to scream. Bellatrix would not have the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

A flick of Bellatrix's wand opened her victim's eyes. I want you to see me hurt you, Mudblood. I want to see the light leave your eyes when you realize that nothing and no one will save you.

The colors were sharper than they had ever been before as Hermione watched Bellatrix stalk forward, towards her limp, aching body. Real words sprang from the Death Eater's lips: "Where did you get that sword?"

"We found it—we found it—" But the truth was not enough to appease Bellatrix's lust for information, and Hermione found herself once again subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. Terrible, unearthly screams were coming from somewhere; Hermione was surprised by the rawness of her throat, and realized the awful noise was coming from her. The pain intensified as Bellatrix cast the spell again.

"PLEASE!" she screamed, trying anything to stop the pain. But the raging hatred in Bellatrix's eyes told Hermione that begging was futile. The Dark witch advanced upon her, her teeth bared.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!" As both torturer and victim screamed—one in ecstasy, the other in agony—Bellatrix crouched over Hermione and unveiled her lethal silver dagger.

Even if Bellatrix had not been pinning her down, Hermione would have been too petrified to move. Her pupils dilated in horror; screams that could only be her own rent the air as the silver dagger carried out the orders of its highly adept wielder.

Bellatrix leaned up, her masterpiece at last complete. A single word gleamed fresh on Hermione's forearm. Mudblood.

The Death Eater again welcomed herself into her victim's mind. Yes, Miss Granger, it hissed. That's what you are. You're nothing but a filthy little Mudblood. And you know what we do to Mudbloods, don't you? Bellatrix spat fiercely in Hermione's face before subjecting her to yet another Cruciatus Curse.

Suddenly, a new voice penetrated the haze of pain and confusion that was Hermione's brain. The whisper was not Bellatrix's—it was one she knew infinitely better.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" It called to her, begging for an answer, for reassurance that she was still fighting.

Ron! she wanted to scream. She couldn't give in now, not when Ron was so close, not when Ron still loved her. She had to keep fighting, no matter how much it weakened her. For Ron. She would be alright, she realized. Ron would come. He always had before…

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

Ron had rushed to her defense before she even knew what that word meant, and ended up vomiting slugs. For her.

Then, fourth year. The Quidditch World Cup. She remembered her terror as she watched the Death Eaters levitating that Muggle family, taking Malfoy's scathing words to heart.

"You wouldn't like her spotted, would you? ... Granger, they're after Muggles. D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

Harry came first to her defense. "Hermione's a witch!"But Malfoy wasn't done.

"If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are." She quickly grabbed Ron to stop him from jumping on Malfoy; they didn't him barfing slugs again, like in second year. Once again, she was touched by his defense.

With Malfoy's final caveat—"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger."—she had had enough. She marched Harry and Ron away before they could get into a fight on her behalf.

As the trio continued through the forest, Hermione noticed Ron sneaking nervous looks at her. It was clear he was worried about her…

And when Lupin came to Grimmauld Place and told them everything—the price on Harry's head, the new laws about Muggle-borns—Ron came through again.

"What if purebloods and half-bloods swear a Muggle-born's part of their family? I'll tell everyone Hermione's my cousin—" But she couldn't let him risk everything for her like that. He and Harry had already done so much…

"Thank you, Ron, but I couldn't let you—"

"You won't have a choice. I'll teach you my family tree so you can answer questions on it."

She had never dreamed that she would need protection in this way, much less find someone who would do so much to protect her when she did…

Bellatrix watched without interrupting, letting Hermione have these thoughts to herself –to comfort herself, to allow herself to hope. It was always best to let the victim lull herself into a false sense of security before striking the final blow. It was more fun this way, too, to watch the victim's inexorable descent into insanity as every hope was torn from her…

He won't come for you, she whispered. He'll never come for you. He's a Pureblood; you're just scum on the bottom of his shoe. He's disgusted by you. Hermione, rendered nearly senseless by repeated torture, believed everything she was told, without question. Sobs of utter despair wracked her aching body as she choked out a plea to her captor.

"No—please… h-he loves me!"

You're wrong, Mudblood. He's leaving without you, this very minute. Now let me show you why…

And suddenly, Ron Weasley stood before her. A miracle, she thought.

"Ron!" she cried, breaking into a smile in spite of all she had been through. Painstakingly, she reached out to touch even his shoe, longing to hold some part of him, to make sure he was real…

"Get away from me, you filthy Mudblood!" Ron kicked her hand away. "How dare you think someone as dirty as you could deserve someone like me?" He spat in her face as she wailed with newfound grief.

No! She implored Bellatrix, begging for it to stop. Please! Not that, anything but that…

But you need that, whispered Bellatrix. You're a Mudblood who needs to learn her place…

As Bellatrix raised her wand again, Hermione heard—for the first time—other voices laughing, jeering at her. More waves of physical pain shocked her, but those were nothing—nothing—compared to the pain that was destroying her mind, breaking her heart.

Her miracle was cursed, dashed to pieces, shattered just like Harry's wand had been. Broken beyond repair.

Ron was right. She was just a Mudblood, unworthy to even be in his presence, let alone have the audacity to love him—or worse, to think he loved her back. Bellatrix's whisperings reinforced this conclusion just as Hermione came to it on her own.

Bellatrix cackled aloud with glee as she watched her victim's misery unfold. She shot another Cruciatus Curse at Hermione as the Mudblood tried to tell her the sword was a copy. She, Bellatrix, could see perfectly through the Mudblood's lie—had she not broken into her mind? But she decided to have a little more fun, to give the Mudblood another dose of false hope.

Hermione dimly registered that someone had been sent to retrieve Griphook, to see if the sword was real or just a copy. Please, she silently prayed, let him say it's a fake…

That will do you no good, Mudblood, came the malevolent voice of the Death Eater. I don't need Veritaserum to know that you're lying… Bellatrix watched with undisguised elation as the last vestiges of hope drained from Hermione's eyes.

"And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her." He's the only man who will have you now, you piece of filth, added Bellatrix's voice inside Hermione's nearly deadened brain.

Hermione grew even paler than she had been upon hearing that she was to be handed over to Greyback. I won't go with him! her mind screamed. I won't!

We'll see about that. Bellatrix still taunted her victim, even when Hermione had nothing left to lose.

Suddenly, the room was bombarded with an explosion of movement and sound. Hermione's heart soared as Ron's voice screamed, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He had come for her.

The next thing she knew, Bellatrix was holding her up, the silver knife against her throat. She heard voices shouting, but whose they were, she didn't know or even care. Hermione looked up into the crystal chandelier; that was the last thing she would ever see… But wait. Was that… Dobby?

There was a small, peculiar creaking sound, followed by a crash that shook the whole manor. Bellatrix had let go of her, and she was covered in dust and glass and blood, and someone with flaming red hair was pulling her out of the fallen chandelier… And Ron—brave, wonderful Ron—was holding her, carrying her toward where Dobby, Harry, and Griphook were standing.

"It's okay, Hermione," he told her. "It's going to be okay. You're safe. We're going to get out of here." Physical contact with Ron gave her the strength she needed to fight off Bellatrix, and she pushed the whispers of Filthy Mudblood out of her mind for good as she clung to Ron and they Disapparated.

She found herself on the beach near Shell Cottage, her whole body heaving with sobs of relief as the enormity of what just happened took hold. They had just escaped Malfoy Manor…

She tried to walk to the house by herself, but her recently-tortured body would not support its own weight. Ron lifted her into his arms once more, soothing her with words of comfort.

"Shh, you're safe here. We're all safe here. She's gone. She won't hurt you anymore, I promise."

That night, Ron was awakened by Hermione's screams of terror. He rushed upstairs to her bedroom and cradled her writhing form in his arms.

"No—no, please! I know my place, I promise! I won't do it again—PLEASE!"

"Hermione! Hermione! Wake up! You're not there anymore!" He shook her until her eyes popped open and she began to tremble violently, bathing her newly scarred face in fresh waves of tears.

"Shh," he said. "It wasn't real. It's just a dream."

"No it wasn't! I'm just a filthy M-mudblood!" she sobbed. "I'm n-not even g-good enough to s-sit h-here with you!"

"What?" said Ron, completely shocked. Hermione had never let that word get to her before. "No! Bellatrix was just trying to scare you; it doesn't matter if you're Muggle-born or Pureblood or what—you're still the most wonderful person I've ever met!" And then he looked down.

Before she could cover it up, he had grabbed her arm. His eyes grew wide with horror as he mouthed the word, Mudblood.

"No," he gasped. "She can't have…" He pulled her closer to him as tears began to stream down his face too.

"No!" she cried as she buried her face in his shirt, drenching it with tears. "It wasn't just Bellatrix, it was you too! There you were, saying 'Get away from me, you filthy Mudblood' and 'How could someone as dirty as you deserve someone like me?' and—and—"

"But Hermione, that's just it! I would never ever ever even think those things about you! Plus I was in the cellar the whole time, I promise you! You can ask Harry in the morning, he'll tell you. Please believe me, Hermione. Please believe me, because I love you."

"I love you, Hermione Granger," Ron repeated. "I love you. I love you. I love you." He said it over and over again, until she fell asleep in his arms. He said it over and over again, until she began to believe him.

Reviews=Happiness.