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

I knew it would come. I knew this cold-hearted insane power-hungry literal witch was going to provoke me, humiliate me, torture me; but I couldn't stop it. I was bound in ropes, next to Ron, Harry, Dean and Griphook, like a helpless little cockroach that was slowly being squished by a large shoe. I could somehow feel trembling and I knew it was not my own. Then something unexpected happened.

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

He had said it. I thought it wasn't Ron, just a figment of my spinning head, but he had said it. After all those times back at Hogwarts when Ron would just protect me against Malfoy and his stupid gang, I never knew he would go this far as to sacrifice for me. He truly liked me.

Bellatrix raised her fist and threw her hand against his face; a red mark was visible, and Ron supported a bleeding lip. I wanted to kill Bellatrix at the moment. I wish a wand would just appear out of nowhere and into my hand and I could just do something to her to make it all the stop, make those flashing images in my mind disappear.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," I could hear Bellatrix say, her face close up to Ron's enough for him to smell her breath. "Blood traitor is next to mudblood in my book."

Her book. I suddenly remembered – we were in Malfoy Manor, held captives by Voldemort's followers. I tried to get the thought that they were mainly after Harry out of my head; I didn't wish anything bad on him. I knew I was going to die, I knew Ron was going to die if I did, and that Harry had a chance of escaping.

My thoughts were interrupted; Bellatrix shot out a short silver knife from under her robes. I expected a wand. She grabbed my arm and cut the thick ropes that bound me to the other prisoners. Some of the knife escaped the ropes and slipped some think scarlet cuts onto my wrist. I wanted to slap the damn bitch. My mind was filled with rage and grief of what would happen to me, Ron and Harry.

She finished cutting. I was no longer bound to Harry or Ron, but my hands were tied tightly behind my back for no chance of escaping. I felt pathetic. Bellatrix grabbed my tangled brown hair and pulled it enough to rip it off like a cheap wig. My last sight was Greyback, who was snarling, pushing the other prisoners out of the way – when they didn't move, he shoved them, and they almost fell over. My last glimpse that didn't escape my mind was Ron's face. I could imagine the grief that would creep over him if he escaped without me, or if I was dead. A tear fell to my eye as I watched him and Harry get shoved out of sight.

As we reached the middle of the drawing room floor, she let go of my hair with a look of disgust on her face; she let slip out several pieces out of her hands. I looked around; Draco, Lucius and some others I couldn't identify were watching us. I felt sweat trickle down my face as Bellatrix roamed around me in a circle, playing with the tip of her short black wand. I felt tormented.

"Here, here," she whispered softly through a crackly voice.

I tried not to seem scared.

"We've got a naughty witch, haven't we?" I heard her taunt. She put on a mock punishing-motherly voice. "Traveling with Harry Potter, the most wanted boy in Britain." She stopped walking and smiled an evil, twisted smile. "Tell me," she spat, and I could see saliva hit the drawing room floor. "What you were doing in my vault."

I didn't answer. I didn't want to answer. It was either be humiliated or be pathetic. I didn't want either.

"What were you doing in my vault?" repeated Bellatrix angrily, but I didn't answer again.

My face was higher than usual, making my large front teeth visible, probably a stupid effect to make it seem like I wasn't afraid.

"Don't make me ask again," said Bellatrix angrier than ever.

But I didn't respond.

Bellatrix grabbed the front of my striped sweater and poked her knife against my throat. "Answer me now," she breathed. "This knife is made for cutting, mudblood."

I let slip out a small, salty tear. Bellatrix let go of my robes and I almost collapsed. She turned away, about only five or six feet away, and then turned around again. "I have no choice," she said, managing a smile. She twisted her dry black hair. "Maybe this" – she held out her wand – "will loosen your tongue."

"No!" I finally spoke. "Please, no," I pleaded. "No. No."

"Well, well," said Bellatrix, twisting her evil smile wider. "A bit too late now, aren't we?"

"Please." I said, shaking my head as more tears fell. "Don't."

Bellatrix shrugged off my pleads. With a lazy flick of her wand, she yelled, "Crucio!"

A flash of unidentified light. I knew I screamed, as of why I was on the floor now, on my knees. I was writhing uncontrollably and my ropes could have broken. I was screaming and I could hear Bellatrix laughing at the tears streaming down my eyes. I wanted to laugh at her, but I couldn't stop crying and screaming; my bones were on fire and my skin was being invaded by hot air, but my head – I had a massive headache, I could have died from a heart attack. The pain eased out to my pleasure.

"See, that was only the beginning," said Bellatrix, and some of her spit fell onto my face.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

On the floor useless, I heard someone who cared; Ron was screaming my name. A small smile reached my face, but a few inches of the pain still remained. I thought of Ron, of Harry, and anything else to try to prevent the pain from reaching me again…

"Answer, now!" bellowed Bellatrix, and this time she pocketed her wand and took out her knife; this I was not afraid of. At least not as much as the wand.

"Tell me," spat Bellatrix. "Now."

She repeated her routine in which she played with her weapon before using it on me. My brown eyes met her dark, cold ones – for a minute I thought a tear spilled out but my face felt completely dry.

Bellatrix rounded on me. She took her knife and held it against my face, leaving scarlet droppings.

"One more time."

But I remained silent.

Bellatrix didn't even have to remind me of the consequences. She took the knife and slid it gently but fast against my cheek, leaving a long, thin gash that throbbed very slowly. I just recently learned that I was still on the floor, not on my knees. I struggled to get up, but Bellatrix read my mind; she took my sleeve and pulled me up with force. She held her wand up again, this time it didn't touch me whatsoever.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" she screamed at me, but my eyes were slit so I tried to make out her blurred outline. "How many times? Tell me, where did you find the sword? Did you go into my vault at Gringotts?" as she spoke, her blade was pressed against my arm; she then released me and I fell to the ground again. I looked down to see my sweater arm blood-stained.

"I can do much worse," spat Bellatrix darkly. "Do you enjoy the Cruciatus curse, mudblood?" her taunts didn't get to me. Her actions did.

"Crucio!" another unidentified light – this time I knew I was on the floor, thankfully I wouldn't hit the floor again. My mind was blocked by a million headaches that throbbed my head with pain. I tried to think of many things, happy thoughts that I would have thought to conjure a patronus, but my mind and body only told me that it was being controlled by the Cruciatus curse.

As the pain oozed off, I looked up at Bellatrix in horror. She smiled down at me.

"HERMIONE!" the very same voice from the cellar bellowed my name; Ron. "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

"Your horrible boyfriend won't shut up now, will he?" taunted Belltrix, avoiding my terrified eyes. "Perhaps I must go down and make him."

No. That's what I meant to say, but what came out was something unidentified like, "ugh." Probably from exhaustion. But I didn't want this bitch to ruin everything that wasn't a part of the current situation. Ron wasn't involved in this interrogation – I was.

Bellatrix took out her blade again and began poking my skin gently with it. "Your arms," she whispered, "are too soft."

I had just noticed that Greyback was watching the entire thing. Much to my ultimate dismay, his mouth was watering slightly and his face looked hungry. If I were dead, my grave would be in his stomach.

"Crucio!" again – it was unexpected this time. Of all times, this time. I screamed a deadly, blood-curdling scream – my throat ached, as well. I was in pain. Grave pain. As I lay on the floor screaming, Bellatrix looked down at me, no pity whatsoever in her eyes. "What about the goblin?"

"We only met him tonight!" I managed to sob. "We've never been inside your vault…it isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

"A copy?" she screeched at me. "Oh, a likely story!"

The pain oozed out again, but not completely. I still felt the ache of the first two. And now all the people in the room were nothing but big, large blurs taken over my eyes.

"Do you know what?" said Bellatrix. "I think we need a more specific outline of the situation – a professional view, rather than from a mudblood who doesn't even belong in our world."

Every word she uttered made me shiver of what else was to come. The pain that set my bones on fire were dying out slowly as if intentionally. Her voice was extremely pity-less. She was like a sociopath – cold, dark, with no feelings.

"We can find out easily!" I heard Lucius say, and his voice was the exact same tone as Bellatrix's. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

I couldn't push the tangled, patched hair out of my face because my arms were still bound together, but all I could make out was Draco running clumsily out of the drawing room; once or twice he stumbled or tripped. I felt sympathetic at the thought of watching an old classmate being tortured by my own aunt.

As Draco was gone for moments, Bellatrix found an entertainment in me, but not physically. "See Greyback, over there?" she said, tilting her head towards the hungry werewolf. "He's hungry."

I could no longer hold it in; I burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably – Bellatrix cackled and turned away, her footsteps echoing into my ringing ears.

My legs literally could not sit up straight. The curse had bound them to the floor where they did not belong. By eyesight was getting clearer, though the faces surrounding the room were still unidentified. My hair was tangled and plastered against my face by the sweat that clung to it. And my head was aching.

"We must go through all this trouble," said Bellatrix, but she was facing a portrait that I couldn't identify. "Just because you refuse to reveal the sword's true identity." She turned to me. "The dark lord is coming. You, your friends and their friend's death is approaching."

She walked over to me and kicked me slightly with her foot; it hit my back and I coughed. She laughed.

"Please, stop it, please," I begged this time, desperate. I didn't care about my status, just about my faith. "I beg you – please."

Bellatrix laughed highly – an insensitive, evil laugh. "You just don't learn. We need that sword's identity. But perhaps you lie, mudblood. Perhaps you deserve to die."

I cried silently, but I thought she heard me.

"Your anguish intrigues me."

I didn't know if that slur was coming from Bellatrix. I didn't know if I heard it correctly, either. But I guessed that torture also comes from words.

Unexpectedly again, she screeched, "Crucio!"

Do you know the saying, "three times a charm?"

In my case, it's four times, and it's a curse. But Bellatrix didn't care. She repeated that dreadful word again, doubling the pain; I screamed so loud it pierced my own ears. I was at the floor, pathetic as can be, and I was screaming, screaming, screaming – the doubling pain crept into my insides like a bug and was indescribable thereafter. I remember one thing before the blurring images took over – Bellatrix interrogating the goblin Griphook, only going easily. I couldn't see properly – just a flash and then the images trapped inside was a skinny shape of Harry, who was waving his wand frantically – something that looked like a house elf; Dobby, perhaps, or Kreacher! But there was one image that my mind stuck to.

A glimpse of red hair, moving around. At this I could have smiled, although a very weak, barely noticeable one. I wish he had seen it…

Another flash, I felt a dagger against my throat; it cut in briefly and I felt the blood drip and go into my sweater, touching my thin shirt underneath. Bellatrix was ordering Harry and Ron to drop their wands or else…she'd kill me. And then a prejudice slur about my blood status. I waited for that dagger to cut into my throat…

But I remained conscious. A bit, actually. The last flash I remember was of the chandelier Bellatrix was interrogating me under falling with a loud creak; I closed my eyes; the bits and shards of crystal that decorated the chandelier fell and broke, cutting against my flesh. It wasn't nearly as painful as the curse.

And then the last flash…I was awake. I looked up; it was light, day, and I was in a comfortable bed rather than a hard, marble floor. Instead of a bellowing demanding voice like Bellatrix's, a deeper and familiar one said, "Hermione – you're awake! Bill! Fleur!"

Bill…Fleur? We must have escaped the Manor!

I looked up to see a familiar red-headed boy smiling at me with threatening tears in his sparkling blue eyes.

At long last, the pain was over.