This is Bellamione, Thank you for reading! Sorry for any mistakes made.
They were all so broken, but stood tall and proud, even in the face of evil. Darkness had won and Hermione could feel her legs start to give as she looked from Voldemort to the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. The cruel smirk, that seemed to be permanently etched into her wickedly beautiful face, had widened when she noticed Hermione watching her. She was obviously remembering their moments in Malfoy Manor.
Neither of them looked away from the other and Hermione could feel blood rushing to her face. What had happened between them was something she never wanted to think about again, but thought about every single night since. The disgust that she felt for getting flustered, especially at a time like this, was colossal in size; she was grateful that it probably passed as anger. Maybe it was because she was angry too, unapologetically and unashamedly enraged at everyone, but she was angry at herself most of all.
Flashback to Malfoy Manor:
Bellatrix had been on her for what felt like hours, carving into her skin with probably the sharpest knife in the entire world. It was excruciatingly painful, but her screams seemed to make Bellatrix carve deeper and harder.
Once she was done with Hermione's arm, bored with her screams of anguish, she tucked the small knife into her boot. Hermione was too smart to try and move, even while the dark witch was distracted. She watched in horror as Bellatrix yanked her arm up from the floor and brought it to her lips, licking the bloody, angry marks.
"Your blood is delicious, filthy girl. Want to taste?" Bellatrix shoved her tongue into Hermione's mouth before she could even react. Hermione moved her hands to the dark woman's chest and pushed, trying to get her to relent. It was useless and made Bellatrix push her tongue in deeper, making the young girl gag on tongue and her own blood. She sat up cackling at the horrified look on the face of Hermione.
"Mmm, poor mudbaby, so defenseless against the big bad Death Eater, aren't you? I bet you love this." Somewhere amidst the screaming and sobbing, Hermione had lost her voice; no matter how badly she wanted to use it to scream at Bellatrix to go to hell, only a small whimper would come out. She could feel herself surrendering to the wretched witch and somewhere in her mind; she realized that the woman straddling over her was right.
Bellatrix had completely violated Hermione, licking her entire body, inside and out. The only place she had left without spit was her eyes, "I want you to see what I'm doing to you, disgraceful girl, and I want you to see me purify your filth with my own cleansing spit." She had said it like Hermione owed gratitude.
"Please, n-not there again. Please…" Hermione's throat was sore and her voice groggy, but she forced the words out of her mouth with a moan as the slippery tongue of Bellatrix moved between her legs for the third time, cleansing her of her dirt.
*End Flashback*
Hermione had to lean on Ron to stop herself from falling over. Bellatrix hadn't removed her gaze from her and Hermione watched those black eyes turn brutally menacing as soon as her shoulder made contact with Ron's. The sobbing started out as sniffles, quickly turning into uncontrollable tears that leaked like a faucet, and Bellatrix had the audacity show a glimpse of concern.
"Harry Potter is dead."
The laughter that came from the crowd of Darkness was loud and boastful, but as Hermione continued to sob and stare, she noted that Bellatrix hadn't moved to celebrate at all. She only stood with a mask of stone. Hermione could practically feel Bellatrix trying to read her mind, but there was nothing there but thoughts of her losses. Hagrid was uncontrollably sobbing with Harry in his arms and it struck her that this was truly over. She wanted desperately to try and console him; he didn't deserve this. She heard Ginny scream and felt her own knees weaken even more, felt herself falling to the ground, and she was very thankful for Ron and Mrs. Weasley grabbing her to support her weight. She wanted to reach out to Ginny, to George, Hagrid; she wanted to help ease everyone's pain, but her own was paralyzing her.
"Make it stop, please, please, please…" she was begging her now, not even sure if Bellatrix could hear, and there was no shame. There was absolutely no shame between them, nothing that either of them would deem shameful anymore, except for her filthy blood; Bellatrix hadn't really seemed to mind it at all though. The witch was standing next to her sister, whispering to her like they were planning something, probably her demise. She saw both of them glance at her, eyes showing no emotion, they didn't care that she was losing everything.