Hogwarts (Challenges and Assignments).
Assignment 7 — Careers Advice: Quidditch — task 1 — write about a protector
Going, Going, Gone! — (style) start and end fic with the same word (or sentence)
Room of Requirement.
Broaden Your Horizons: Angst Stories — Torture (can be mental/physical/emotional)
Hermione Granger always took care of her charges. She was the mother hen of the school, always checking in on the sick kids in the Hospital Wing, always helping people with their homework so they wouldn't fail.
She never failed those depending on her.
But somewhere along the lines, she had. She'd failed those counting upon her the most — her best friends, Ron and Harry. She hadn't been quick enough in clapping her hand over Harry's mouth, and now all three of them had been captured by Snatchers and were being taken Merlin only knew where.
Oh. She overheard one of them say Malfoy Manor. So that's where they were going, then.
"I don't know!" Hermione cried. Pain was all she knew at that moment, and she was lying through her — clenched — teeth. She was being held under two simultaneous Crucios, but she would die before she have up her friends' location or secrets.
"Tell me, you bitch!" yelled Bellatrix. The crazed woman bared her teeth and cast the Unforgivable again. Hermione's body thrashed like a rag doll, but the restraining spell kept her torso mostly still so only her arms and legs and head could move.
"I don't know!" Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and fell to the polished floor of Malfoy Manor.
"How did you get inside my vault?" Bellatrix released the spell and Hermione sagged with relief. The pain lingered, but it was a lot better than before. "Where did you get that sword?"
"It's a fake!" Hermione screamed as Bellatrix recast the Crucio even harder. Pain wracked her body, every nerve ending feeling as if it were on fire. "We haven't been in your vault, I swear! It's a fake, just a fake."
Hermione couldn't see through her tears, but she heard Bellatrix order someone to fetch the goblin. "We'll see if the Mudblood's telling the truth," she said cruelly. She turned back to the brunette writhing on the floor, aftershocks from the Crucio still making her visibly shake at random moments. "Now, then..." Bellatrix ran a long finger with a dirty nail down the side of Hermione's cheek. "You're rather pretty," she said in a thoughtful tone. "Too bad you're a Mudblood." Her eyes lit up. "Ah!"
She fumbled at the waist of her tattered black dress and pulled out a silver dagger that gleamed in the above light. She tilted it from side to side, inspecting the blade. "Yes," she mused, "this will work nicely."
Hermione shut her eyes and prayed to every god, goddess, and mythical creature in the world. She could hear Bellatrix and the goblin conversing in the background, but ignored the sound.
"So, you were telling the truth," she heard the crazed witch say, and she slitted her eyes open. Bellatrix fell to her knees beside Hermione and yanked on the sleeve of her shirt. "I think you need to be taught a lesson."
There was a pinching sensation on her left forearm, then her skin sliced open beneath the wickedly sharp blade of Bellatrix's knife. And she screamed, voice high and wordless, just a sound of never ending pain.
Minutes passed — or what Hermione counted as minutes. She wasn't a good keeper of time, she'd learned. But what she had learned was that it was indeed possible to be in this much pain and not die. Unfortunately for her. The pain was terrible, and she could feel the blood running down her arm in rivulets, but she would do it. She would bear the scar — not publicly, for she already knew what would be carved into her arm; Bellatrix had a limited vocabulary, after all — but she would bear it as a badge of honor, a mark of her faith to Harry and to the Order.
She would not let her friends, the good side, the kind ones, be betrayed. Especially not by her.
Hermione Granger always took care of her charges.
word count: 679