A/N: This fic was written for stuckwithminusharry to celebrate our one year anniversary! It's been months in the process, and here, finally, is the final draft. Jessie, I hope you like it! Originally planned at around 3k, we're now over 9k. Sorry!
This is my version of how events would have occurred if it had been Ron who Bellatrix tortured at Malfoy Manor instead of Hermione. I used my copy of DH for the first part, so much of Bellatrix's dialogue, along with Dobby and The Malfoy's is copied from the original text, but everything else is mine! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!
"No! Keep me, you can have me!" Ron's voice echoes around the large hall, followed by a thundering slap from Bellatrix's hand. Hermione's breathing quickens. If Bellatrix took her- that was something she could deal with. If Bellatrix took Ron- well, the uncertainty alone might be enough to break her.
She's more scared than she's ever been in her entire life. She can't think clearly, her brain a confusing cycle of words and names and feelings she can't make out. She hears Bellatrix's snarl of a voice somewhere to the left of her but the words are a mess.
There had been a time, a few months ago before they'd invaded the ministry, when Ron had swore that he would do anything to protect her. Then, she had thought he was only saying it to satiate her constant state of worry- But now?
Now she's terrified that he was telling the truth.
Not Ron, she thinks to herself, eyes squeezed shut with the effort of willing it not to happen, please not Ron.
"Right." Says Bellatrix in that same slow whisper of breath, "Right." She says again, and Hermione knows she's doing it on purpose; dragging it out. This woman standing in front of her is the reason her heart pounds so wildly in her chest, and in that moment Hermione feels nothing but rage, rage spurred on by fear, in her bones.
"Cissy!" She barks, and Hermione flinches. Bellatrix catches this and grins her sadistic grin before turning to her sister, Draco's mother. "Take them down to the cellar, will you? All of them except..." Bellatrix narrows her eyes on Hermione and looks from her to Ron. She wants to scream, wants to yell and shout and cry and pound on the walls with her fists until her knuckles bleed.
But she can't.
She can't because she's tied up and she's lost control of her voice and she's terrified. Not only for herself, but for her friends too.
Hermione has been petrified exactly twice in her life. Once, when she glimpsed the basilisk from the corner of her mirror in second year, and once when Bellatrix Lestrange turns to her and says, "All except for the ginger."
She can't move she can't think she can't breathe, and then they're being hauled up and forwards and her feet are tangled with someone who she thinks might be Harry's but she can't really focus on anything because Bellatrix has Ron. Her Ron. Her knight.
She struggles to see through her tears, but that which she can make out doesn't do anything to calm her. Ron is being dragged away from her by his hair and Hermione wants nothing more than to reach out to him and pull him out of the madwoman's grasp.
Something snaps inside of her. "No! Ron! Please don't hurt him! Please!" The end of her sentence is drowned out by Bellatrix's manical laughter, and that is when Hermione realises she's lost. Because pleading with a sociopath killer is about as effective as doing no revision and expecting to ace the exam. But she has to let Ron know, she has to tell him in case-
Just in case.
Hermione opens her mouth to yell the words, but the wind gets knocked out of her as she is pushed, along with Harry and Dean and the Goblin, into the cellar below.
On the way down she feels as if all of her bones are being broken. Because surely no one can feel as weak as she already does and then have the weight of three people crush you as you fall down a flight of stairs. For a few seconds, all thoughts of Ron leave her mind and there is nothing but the damage her body is going through. It's almost relieving in that way, the pain.
Once everything has stopped spinning, and she's stopped hurting enough to be able to process things again, she tries to sit up. There's a body- maybe Dean's- that's trapping her right shoulder uncomfortably but she's in no position to do anything about it.
And that's when it happens. At first, Hermione thinks maybe she's in hell, because only in her very very worst nightmares has she ever encountered that sound before. It's Ron. Quite clearly screaming in agony, and the sound cuts through Hermione like a razor. Her whole body quivers and shakes as she cries, each breath trapping her inside a bubble of crippling fear.
It cycles around in her head like a tornado; he's screaming he's screaming he's screaming she's hurting him she's hurting him she's hurting him- and Hermione's caught in the middle of it.
There are voices yelling, but she's not taking that much notice of them. They don't belong to Ron.
She gasps as the robes binding her seem to cut further into her body, leaving her even more incapable of breath. She starts to panic, the pain and the anticipation becoming too much. She doesn't know when Ron will scream again. She doesn't know whether he'll be able to scream again, if he even can. She doesn't even know which one is worse. There's so much she doesn't know in that moment that it feels like a cruel irony, the world ridiculing her. The girl with all the answers, yet this is a puzzle she's incapable of solving.
Someone squeezes her hand and it takes her so much by surprise that she opens her eyes to see who.
Luna's crouched in front of her, holding her hand. Her lips are moving but Ron's screams still echo in Hermione's ears and Luna's voice is lost before it reaches her ears.
Overhead, Ron screams again, and this time Hermione's voice joins his. Luna quickly tugs on the rope and the knots come undone around her ankles. There's pain, but Hermione decides that it's nothing compared to how Ron's screams make her head hurt in the worst way imaginable.
He's screaming, and when he's screaming she can't think of anything else. She won't let herself think of anything else.
It should have been her.
Harry is talking to Luna, but Hermione still hasn't moved from her spot on the floor. It's silent again and she feels like screaming just to fill it. Silence means uncertainty; silence means danger. Noise is a constant thing, it's a reassurance, and Hermione is stuck between never wanting to hear Ron scream again, yet needing to hear him to ensure he's still alive.
The thought makes her collapse again, losing what little progress she had made on standing up. Her legs feel wobbly and she's not completely sure she hasn't broken them.
She can't think and she hates it. Her brain, her only asset, is failing her and she can't think. She doesn't know how they're going to get out of this cellar, she doesn't know how they're going to get out of the manor, and she doesn't know if Ron's okay. She doesn't know. She hates not knowing.
She stands up then, abruptly. No, she doesn't know how they're going to get out of here, but she can figure it out. She has to.
Dean follows her to the locked iron gate, where she rattles the bars in desperation. They don't budge.
"There's no way out." comes Luna's airy voice from behind her, and Hermione has never felt more enraged by anything she's ever said. "We've tried everything." And the funny thing is, for once she's making sense. Luna's making sense but Hermione refuses to believe her.
There has to be a way out. She needs there to be.
There's a sharp cry from above them and Hermione's whole body jumps as if she's been scalded. She can hear Bellatrix's voice, just barely, although the words sound all jumbled and nonsensical. There's a slap and Hermione squeezes her eyes shut as tears continue to fall, as if it can somehow block the awful images in her mind.
"TELL ME YOU FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR!" Bellatrix howls and this time Hermione hears her loud and clear. She can't make out Ron's mumbled response but she recognises his voice and her heart flutters in her chest painfully.
And then it sinks to her feet as he screams again. And maybe it was the spark of hope that for a moment he was okay, but suddenly she finds strength again.
"RON!" his name is out of her mouth before she can finish the thought. "RON!" she screams, not knowing if he can hear, not caring if he can hear, just needing to try. His name feels like a reassurance, like if she reminds herself he's okay, he somehow will be.
The screams stop again and Hermione bites her lip to stop his name from escaping her. Somewhere in her mind she knows she's not being helpful to anyone like this, but that part of her is locked away and buried deep.
She's lost count of the tears she's shed, the screams Ron's let out.
Eternity seems to have passed in the small cellar; she doesn't know how long they have left.
There's another drawn out, tormenting silence, and Hermione decides that she needs to do something, anything, so she can feel a little less hopeless. Turning around, she can see Harry, crouched down over what appears to be a shard of glass.
She's half angered by the fact that he doesn't seem to be doing anything; that they're all just stood around here, helpless.
Hermione can't stand it anymore, she can't stand the silence and the dreaded anticipation. She starts shaking the door furiously. Impeded by the fact that a stupid piece of wood may be the only thing between her and Ron, that it could be the reason she'll never get to see him again.
Stop it Hermione, she tells herself strictly. He's fine, he'll be fine.
She's still rattling the door, almost unconsciously now, her limbs making the decision for her. It's getting her nowhere. Her arms ache.
Hermione lets out a anguished cry, and her anger takes over. She can feel her fists hitting the door, without the recollection of telling them to in the first place. It hurts but she welcomes the pain to her system, Her nails claw down the wood because she's desperate to reach him- before it's too late.
Eventually, she stops. Her knuckles are bleeding and broken, and she's so tired she feels like she may collapse. Which she does, with a sob, her knees hitting the ground in defeat.
It's hopeless. She knew that before but now, now she knows there's nothing she can do to reach Ron. He'll die up there, alone and in pain at the hands of a madwoman, in what should've been her place. And her- what will happen to her? To all of them down here? She knows Harry's face will return to normal eventually- and when it does, it's over. Voldemort will come and kill Harry , and then go on to take over the wizarding world. If any of them have any chance left, it'll be gone soon.
Voldemort will win. They'll have failed.
Hermione sinks further against the door. She hasn't heard anything from above them for a while now- and it's this realization that scares her more than the thought of failure at their task.
There's a 'pop!' in the room, making her jump, and Hermione's head whips towards it at once. She knows it's not Ron but her heart still deflates when she sees Dobby.
Dobby?
Confused, and not totally sure this isn't just one long nightmare, Hermione picks herself up off of the floor and walks over to where Harry is squatted down speaking to the small house elf.
"-has come to rescue you!" Hermione only catches the end of Dobby's sentence but it's enough. Maybe this is it- maybe this is their way out.
"But how did you- ?"
Harry's sentence is cut short by another scream from overhead. Hermione jolts, grabbing onto Harry's shoulder to keep herself upright. He'll be fine, she tells herself, he'll be fine, we just need to get him out, he'll be fine.
Zoned out of the conversation again, Hermione shakes herself and focuses on hearing the exchange between Harry and Dobby.
She feels as if her brain is starting to work once more as they talk in hurried, rushed whispers. Of course a house elf would be able to apparate out! That's how they get around Hogwarts when no one else can- she feels like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner, especially when there's so much at stake.
"Right. Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Dean, and Mr Ollivander, and take them- take them to..."
Harry's eyes scour the dark cellar, as if hoping a safe location will come running out from a corner and start dancing in front of him.
Hermione's breath come quick and shallow. They're running out of time. She can feel it in every cell of her body, a response signal telling her that this is it, they need to move now or else... or else he'll die.
He'll die, and the last thing she'll have said to him will have been bitter and resentful. She should have forgiven him when she had the chance. Now... now it might be too la-
"Shell Cottage!" She yells- too loud. Her and Harry both look upwards, anxious in case anyone heard her outburst. They wait a couple of seconds, but they appear to have gone unnoticed, so she continues, "Where Ron stayed when he... When he left. Bill and Fleur's."
"Brilliant." Says Harry, nodding. "Where is it?"
Hermione freezes, the thrill at having found an answer quickly weathering away: Ron had never mentioned the location.
As Hermione struggles desparately for a solution, Harry turns to Dobby, "Can you find it?" he asks urgently.
"Dobby can try, sir."
"Great, okay." They watch as Dobby goes over to where the other three are stood, taking their hands. "It's the best chance we've got." he adds, in response to Hermione's skepticism.
Dobby turns on the spot with another quiet 'pop' and Harry and Hermione look at each other.
"He'll be fine," Harry says quietly, taking her hand that remains on his upper forearm and squeezing gently, "We'll get him out."
Hermione nods, tears welling up. He'll be fine, she replays the words in her head, we'll get him out.
There seems to be a force working against her optimism, for overhead another horrible scream is taken from Ron. Hermione whimpers, and squeezes her eyes shut again. When she opens them, Harry is clutching his forehead in pain and a brand new fear infiltrates her system.
"Harry?" she questions, but he just shakes his head and starts towards the door.
"What was that?" Her blood seems to turn to ice as Lucius Malfoy's voice angers from above. "Did you hear that? What was that noise coming from the cellar?"
Hermione looks to Harry but his expression mirrors her own: terror. Slowly, he raises a finger to his lips and edges to the side of the door. Trembling, Hermione follows.
"Draco, no! Call Wormtail, make him go and check!"
There's a heavy silence. Not even daring to take a breath, Hermione waits, watching Harry closely for any sign of how to proceed.
"I'll tackle him. Get his wand whilst he's distracted." Harry's voice is so quiet she barely hears it, and she doesn't like what she hears. If there was time to come up with another plan, she would have done, but time is a luxury they cannot afford and Pettigrew's footsteps are getting closer.
"Stand back," Pettigrew's voice comes from the other side of the door, so close it makes Hermione shiver and her skin crawl. "Stand away from the door. I am coming in."
The few seconds between this announcement and the door opening are the worst of Hermione's life. She's so full of anxiety and trepidation she feels like she could burst.
When Pettigrew's in view, Harry barely waits half a second before he launches himself on to the small man. There's scuffling, Hermione can't see what's happening, but Harry hisses, "Now!" and she runs to help.
She fumbles in the dark, tries to find a wand, an arm, a hand- anything. But no such luck. She hears sounds; a grunt, a thud. A heavy force pushes her back and she hits the wall with a crack.
"What is it Wormtail?" Lucius Malfoy's voice again, demanding.
Hermione panics. What now? She looks around for Harry and Pettigrew and spots them a few feet away on the floor, Pettigrew with his silver hand wrapped around her best friend's throat.
For a second she's frozen, as still as a statue, unable to do anything but watch. This can't be how it ends. Ron upstairs, being subjected to the most horrible pain imaginable, and Harry down here, being strangled to death by the very man who betrayed his parents.
It can't end like this. Hermione runs up and starts hitting any part of Pettigrew she can reach with her fists, trying to grab at the hand still wrapped around Harry's throat.
It works for a moment. He's distracted and Harry almost breaks loose of the hold- almost. Soon the metal fingers are squeezing his neck harder than ever; she can see his face turn purple.
In desperation, Hermione claws at Petttigrew's face with her nails. He flinches but his grip stays strong. His wand, she thinks suddenly, if I can just get his wand...
Then a strange thing happens. Harry rasps something she can't make out, and then Pettigrew lets go. Harry staggers backwards clutching his throat and sucking deep breaths into his lungs, but Pettigrew remains, shocked.
Hermione seizes her chance and grabs the wand from his hand before he can fight back. Running to Harry's side, she tries to make contact with him. But he's not looking at her. He's staring in awestruck horror at Pettigrew's hand, enclosing itself around his own throat.
"No!" Harry yells, jumping to his would-be killer's aid.
Hermione watches him go but her legs don't seem to follow.
Pettigrew's eyes widen and he opens his mouth wide like he's trying to scream. The image sends a chill up her spine. He'll strangle himself to death, she realises. I'll watch him die.
Some kind of reflex kicks in, adrenalin rushes through her system as she runs to help, trying to pry the metal fingers from around Pettigrew's neck. She remembers the wand she took from him, "Relashio!" She cries; but nothing happens. "Relashio! Relashio! Relashio!" she tries again in desparation, but it's too late.
Hermione stares down at the man's face, horrified. Harry tugs at her arm, "Come on, Hermione! He's gone! We have to-"
Two things happen at once: Ron gives another awful scream that seems to shake the walls of the cellar, and Lucius Malfoy bursts through the door, wand in hand.
"Wormtail? Are you down h- Aha!" he cries upon seeing Harry and Hermione. "What have we here? Two children tryi-"
"-Stupefy!" The words leave her mouth without her knowledge, the arm that holds Pettigrew's wand pointed straight out in front of her as a blue jet of light leaves it and hits Lucius Malfoy straight in the chest.
It's quiet for a second. there are two bodies on the floor- one dead, one alive- with her and Harry stood in the middle.
"Did you hear that?" This time it's Bellatrix's voice that falls down to them. Hermione's insides burn.
Exchanging glances, Harry motions to the door. Hermione nods.
They walk up the stairs slowly, snippets of conversation drifting down from above. Somewhere in her mind, she dimly realises that Harry hasn't got a wand, that this is a very stupid plan, that they're potentially walking to their deaths.
But Ron's up there, and Hermione is getting desperate. Anything that leads her to him is worth risking everything for.
"I'm telling you Cissy, I heard something!" Bellatrix shrieks, sounding hysterical.
"Probably just Lucius showing the prisoners how to behave." Says Narcissa calmly, although her voice shakes.
"It was a girl's voice!" Bellatrix practically spits and Hermione flinches. Harry's hand finds her back, reminding her to keep moving.
They climb another step, and she can see the drawing room come into view. She sees Bellatrix looming over Griphook, dagger in hand, snarl on her face.
Hermione's heart stops.
Ron is at Bellatrix's feet, his chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes shut.
He looks so weak, curled on his side, legs tucked to his chest, barely breathing. His hair seems duller, infused with dirt and blood. Clamping a hand to her mouth to stop the sobs, she fights the overpowering urge to run and get him the hell out of here.
"I'm going to check!" Bellatrix's voice brings her crashing back to the situation at hand
Harry lets go of her back, puts both hands on the stair in front of him, ready to run. Hermione takes a deep breath before doing the same, clutching Pettigrew's wand like a lifeline.
This is it.
She hears Harry whisper, "Three. Two. One." A deep breath. "GO!"
And then she's running. "Stupefy!" She yells as Bellatrix whips around to face her, catching the older witch off-guard.
There are spells flying everywhere. Hermione can't tell what they are or who they're sent by; she just knows she has to survive.
Green light misses her by a few inches, and she throws herself to the floor to avoid another.
They're aiming to kill.
She crawls behind a dresser and fires spells from around the sides. Her heart is beating so fast that she can't hear anything for all the blood rushing in her ears.
"Stupefy!" she cries, hitting Narcissa Malfoy in the chest and sending her flying. More green light. She can't breathe.
"STOP!" Bellatrix thunders. The room falls silent.
"Come out where I can see you both. Yes, that's better. Now. Drop your wands."
Hermione crawls out from her hiding space and her world crashes right before her eyes.
Bellatrix is stood there, holding a knife to Ron's throat. He looks pale, faint almost, like a ghost. His knees are bent in what must be a painful position as Bellatrix holds him at shoulder height.
"Drop them or he dies!" Bellatrix repeats, pressing the blade into Ron's skin, where a thin line of blood appears. Hermione drops her wand as if it's burnt her and hears Harry do the same; he must have obtained one in all the fighting.
"Good." Bellatrix says, slowly, enjoying the moment, relishing their despair. "Draco, pick them up!"
She watches Draco scuttle across the floor and pick up the wands. For a minute, she almost feels a trace of pity for him, but it's gone as soon as it comes, replaced with rage.
"Now, to call the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix exclaims gleefully, using her free arm to extract her wand.
Hermione doesn't see it happen until it's too late. There's a squeak, a crack, and an almighty crash as the chandelier falls. Bellatrix lurches out of the way, and Hermione's scream joins the cacophony of noise as the chandelier lands straight on top of Ron and Griphook.
There's glass everywhere, but Hermione is numb to the shards embedded in her skin as she runs to the wreckage. She's aware of little else as she grabs Ron by the forearms and tugs with all her strength. She moves heavy pieces of broken metal from his legs and torso, doing her best to ignore all the blood.
Dragging Ron into a sitting position, she looks around the room hopelessly for something that will allow their escape. Everyone is pre-occupied, but she knows it won't be long until their focus shifts back to the two teenagers bruised, bleeding, and defenceless on the floor.
"Hermione!" Harry's voice calls out to her from across the room, "Catch this and get Ron out of here!" he yells, aiming a wand at where she's crouched.
For a second she panics. She's never been good at catching- what if she misses? But then the wand is in her hand and she turns on the spot before realising her mistake.
She doesn't know where she's going.
Shell Cottage, she thinks desparately. Shell Cottage, Shell Cottage, Shell Cottage.
It's futile but maybe, just maybe, determination, deliberation, and a vague sense of her destination will be enough.
Focusing all her willpower on Shell Cottage, of Bill and Fleur's faces, of how badly she needs them to arrive there safely, she tries to ignore the suffocating feeling and carries on twisting.
Shell Cottage, Shell Cottage, Shell Cottage, Shell Cottage, Shell Cott-
The landing is rough and sudden. Hermione feels the wind being knocked out of her already deprived lungs; black spots dance in the corners of her vision.
Dizzy, she scans the area. They're on a beach, and Ron is perhaps a metre or two away from her, on his back in the sand. She rushes over to his side, checks his pulse, makes sure he's still breathing.
A sigh of relief escapes her lips before she sees the steady trickle of deep red running from the small slit Bellatrix had made in his throat. Choking back tears, she applies gentle pressure to the wound, careful not to obstruct his airway.
"Please be okay, please be okay. Oh Ron, please." She half mutters, half sobs into his stained shirt. "P... please Ron, you have to be okay, you h... have to."
He needs help. Real help, not just a distressed girl who doesn't really know the first thing about healing on this scale.
She has no idea where they are- if she made it to Shell Cottage or not, but there's got to be somebody around who's willing to help, right?
"HELP!" Hermione yells, although her voice cracks and breaks. "SOMEONE HELP!"
More tears fall down her face. She's useless. She couldn't get to him in time, she couldn't apparate them properly, and now she can't even call for help. Ron deserves so much better than her. The truth of that statement threatens to knock her out, break her completely, and her sobs increase.
"HELP US!" she screams into the wind. "PLEASE! WE NEED... WE NEED A DOCTOR OR.. OR..." her shouts transition into cries, her shoulders start to shake, and all she can think is: I've failed.
She's failed herself, she's failed her parents, she's failed Harry, and now she's failed Ron too. She's just one big failure, and all the people she loves most could be dead because of it.
"Hermione?"
She turns her head so fast that her neck cricks when she hears a man's voice calling out her name.
"Hermione, is that you?"
Bill. Hermione's heart elates within her chest; it's all she can do not to scream with joy.
"It's me!" She calls back desperately, "I'm here!"
Bill appears from over a hill in the distance, running, Fleur right alongside him.
"You're going to be okay now," she tells Ron, stroking his hollow face with her hand, "Just hold on a little bit longer for me."
"What happened to him?" Bill says, horror-stricken as he stares at his little brother in the sand.
Hermione shakes her head. It feels wrong somehow, not being able to tell Bill what happened to his own brother, but it's not her information to divulge. "Please, he needs... He needs h... help." She sobs, cradling Ron's head in her lap.
Bill's eyes soften; he starts to nod. "I'll take him up to the cottage." he says, conjuring a stretcher and levitating Ron on top of it. Hermione almost cries out at the loss of Ron's weight- she never wants to let him go ever again.
Bill starts running back in the direction he came, stretcher alongside him. Fleur crouches down to Hermione. "He'll be okay." She says gently, and Hermione is tempted to believe her.
They walk over the hill Bill had disappeared over with Ron just a few seconds ago, Hermione unsteady on her feet, leaning into Fleur's side for support.
Every second she's away from Ron drives more fear into her mind and she struggles to remind herself that they're safe now.
Upon entering the small cottage, Fleur helps her climb the stairs to the spare bedroom, where Ron is stretched out on the bed. Hermione gasps- he looks dead.
"He's fine." Bill tells her as she rushes to Ron's side, "He's in pretty bad condition, but he'll be fine."
He's going to be okay. Hermione laughs, she cries, she can feel Fleur's hand rubbing circles on her back, hear Bill sniffling as he mixes bottles and potions for his younger brother.
Hermione takes Ron's hand. It's cold and limp in her own. Her tears fall faster as Bill's words sink in and relief hits her full on; her knees give way underneath her and she collapses onto the floor beside his bed, still grasping his hand as if it's the only real thing in the world.