Her hair was matted. Very matted. Dried blood, sweat and mildew did nothing for a girl's hair she concluded hazily, her eyes swimming and her bindings chafing against her scabby wrists while she swayed a little. It amused the Dark Lord greatly that she had no fear whatsoever, thinking about her hair at a time like this as he sat merely 5 feet or so away from where she knelt, it was refreshing yet confusing. His person emanated it, like a stench- fear. Or to be exact, to fear, like a natural predator to it's prey. Yet itty bitty Mudblood Granger, a teenage girl for merlin's sake was so numb she couldn't even feel him probing her mind. At least not until he got to the cavern, the darkest pit he could not even begin to plunge into. The Dark Lord phased? His inhumanly pointed teeth ground together.
From across the room the huddled fair-haired family, stricken, grim, dirty and very much alone looked onward as they had many a time before. The youngest, one Draco Malfoy watched a part of his childhood lie in scraps at the feet of his 'leader'. He wondered absently what trick or feat she would perform this time around as it had to be said, she had pulled a fair few. Spitting at Lord Voldemort was a favourite, Aunt Bella nearly wet herself with indignation as she screamed and tortured Hermione Granger into oblivion and had taken up an eye twitch when Granger had climbed precariously back to her feet. Of course that wasn't accepted now and Draco was pretty sure the girl must have had some kind of blood poisoning or something, the amount of dark magic infecting that girl was astounding. Then again, supposedly her blood was poison.
Doubt was always a silly thing to Draco, to any Malfoy really. Doubt was something you shouldn't deal with, especially not when it concerned someone who could hurt you- someone who could hurt you extremely easily and would not let you forget it till the merciful moment you died. He was grateful that the Dark Lord's mind was elsewhere as he watched the blood caked into the left side of Granger's hair line break anew and the crimson bead flecked down onto the stone floor of the Nott family mansion. He had always imagined dirty blood to be of dark colour, like mud, brown. Or maybe with something running through it? Something dirty which you might be able to catch a glimpse of. That had just been his opinion. Doubt. Doubt was what he saw every time some dirty blooded folk crossed paths with Lord Voldemort or any of his followers- blood identical to his own spilling everywhere always painstakingly slowly. So he could take it in. Take it in and doubt.
Either way, Draco decided, Granger obviously had a death wish. Yet strangely she seemed to entertain and even amuse The Dark Lord, who although does enjoy a good playing with his prey doesn't usually contemplate them- or search minds so… so complacently. Not when one had disrespected him so openly, so foully as she had many times before. It reminded him of that one time Granger had punched him straight in the nose, she had the Gryffindor will, the fire which he despised and admired. Although he knew that the entertainment value of the girl was going to run very thin, very fast and that fire was going to be extinguished along with it. Draco realised that the reptilian gaze was upon him by every hair on his body seemingly standing on end and the urge in his bones to run as fast and as far as possible- an instinct something primal and raw, his father roughly shoved him forward. Narcissa's heart broke for him, for her only son.
"Ah, Draco" he breathed, it breathed. Draco couldn't even find it in himself to tremble.
"Yes, my Lord", he whispered bowing his head as he heard a snort from Hermione at his words.
"Oh so the Mudblood has something to contribute to this conversation, by all means. Fenrir! Let her speak, I cannot wait to hear this" everyone's eyes watched those talons slide up and down the length of the wand, the wand which had been used to rip this monster's soul into so many pieces that there was no way Voldemort, Tom Riddle could ever recover, just as he'd wanted. Fenrir grunted, moved forward, gave the girl her voice back and a swift kick to the jaw. Everyone stared expectantly down at her, Draco heard his Aunt let out a small cackle she couldn't seem to hold back and wondered whether this was the distraction he so desperately needed to slip back behind his parents, away from whatever deed he would have to try to complete to restore his family's honour and indeed his own even just for another day. Granger raised her head.
"Whatever you set he won't do it" she wheezed, her cracked lips bled as she smiled "Coward" she bit out. Bellatrix hissed and took a few menacing steps forward stopped by the raising of her Lord's hand and his sinister smile. He turned to Draco.
"Are you going to let a filthy Mudblood speak to you in such a way Draco?" but he clearly didn't need an answer "Of course you are, maybe she's right you know" Draco began to shake before he stepped forward once again.
"Watch me." He said shakily, suddenly so tired, yet so alive from the obvious death threat hidden not even subtly by his master, his chances were dwindled so low he barely even had a single one left. His wand was in his hand and he stared down at his previous rival, a girl of his own age, his classmate who he had once believed vermin and was now told in such an ultimatum that he had to try to convince everyone he still believed so. He tilted his wand downward, as his Aunt had explained, Bella always explained. "Crucio."
That, Hermione had been expecting. Every fibre, tissue and cell of her body exploded into pain, her nerve endings seemed aflame - as if they were trying to burst out of her. She spasmed helplessly, she wanted to claw at herself- to do something to distract from the pain besides screaming, her leg locking jinx would not allow her to stand even if she wanted to. The sounds she emitted were blood-curdling, she never used to be this vocal yet she seemed still unbreakable. Very much unlike the caster of the spell.
Draco broke the red burst of light before he even hit 30 seconds, his wand arm shaking. His whole body shaking at the feeling which had coursed through him. He watched Hermione slump forward, her forehead meeting the cool stone without a sound, only her rapid panting as she tried to get used to the feeling of not being in intense pain. Bellatrix was smiling maniacally near where Voldemort sat, who watched the youngest Malfoy intensely.
"How did it feel?" it felt as though his soul's seams were stretching, breaking. Not quite enough to kill her, not quite enough to tear his soul apart.
"Good, my Lord. Powerful", Hermione coughed and spat some blood out onto the floor. Draco was lying, right into the face that embodied pure evil and he didn't care. He felt as though he needed to scrub himself clean with a wire brush from the inside out. Anything to cleanse the feeling, the feeling of disgust at a torture he himself had been subjected to. He wouldn't wish it on anyone, yet he just had, worse. He had inflicted it.