She lay motionless on the rough floor with only her light breathing to indicate she was alive. Her tepid tears collided against the cold stone floor she laid upon, her alabaster skin chilled by the draft from an open window. Her hollow eyes were wide-eyed and stained crimson; her philtrum coated with arid tears; her rosy nose congested. She tried her best to stifle her whimpers, as if she were afraid to be found alive. Her stomach churned like turbulent waters, nauseated by the idea of being caught alive by her captors. Hermione's eyes began to swell as she realized her current state of emotion. She tried to fight back her tears, not wanting to admit her defeat.
Tears formed in her eyes once again as she looked at her branding, her breathing began to pace irregularly. She stared at her newly distinct, bloodstained scar: Mudblood, it read. Her once immaculate skin was now tainted with hatred; the degrading hallmark maimed her skin. The rage behind those words seeped through her skin and into her conscience, it was almost as if the derogatory word whispered in her ears, trying to make her believe her birthright was an embarrassment. The prejudice found in that term made her feel numb through her tears, which sweltered against her heated skin. Her eyes were fixated on the marred word embroidered on her ivory sheath in an unending gaze.