Her shrieking voice filled the room, echoing along the hallways, banging against the ceiling of the tall house. "Ron! Not you too Ron!" was all that could be heard, amplifying loudly, eyes pouring like waterfalls. She looked at the motionless boy on the floor, dripping with cold blood, glasses askew and hair everywhere. "Please," she whispered, as another body with unmistakably ginger hair fell down. She screamed again, and pulled free of the rough hands she was held in, dropping next to the men. The asleep men. She grabbed their hands, tears mixing with the blood. She felt pulse slow down, and stop. Just like that. "Harry... Ron..." were the only two words that could escape her mouth. She was completely choked up. "Save them! Oh, please, have me instead," she shouted, standing up, running to a familiar face. She stopped, and looked up. "Please."
Hermione lay on the floor, eyes too heavy to open. They flickered, but were still very narrow, and she could barely see through her eyelashes. Just darkness. Strands of bloody hair were visible too, but she didn't have the strength to get up. All she could remember was screaming and thuds. Her hands lay by her sides, feeling swollen and sore, and her whole body felt stiff. She attempted asking where she was, but a croak was all that she could do. She felt a pair of hands touch her shoulders. "She's awake!" a female voice cackled, yanking on Hermione's hair, and digging her nails into her shoulders. A sudden coldness came over the curly haired girl, and she opened her eyes to see a monster. Him. "You- you killed them. You monster! Get away from me!" she said, her voice suddenly coming back to her. The nails dug into her again, and they were sharp. Warm blood trickled down her shoulders, and she burst into tears again. "I'll take her. What do you want me to do?" a deep voice said, though it kept cracking, and it sounded scared, unsure of what was about to happen.
"Torture her, Malfoy, tortue her. Scare her into staying. Bellatrix, you stay here."
"Yes, my Lord, of course," the deep voice said, and Hermione felt someone dragging her up. "Get up, Mudblood!" he hissed, and she scrambled up immediately. "M-Malfoy? W-which one?" She was ignored, and pushed over to another room.
The sniggers and muttering gradually became quieter, and died down. She was chucked onto a bed, and a cold sensation came over her. Water trickled down her face, and it opened her eyes, wide and alert. She wiped her face, but her hair was dripping it everywhere, and it splashed down her like a shower, cleaning the blood a little. Standing in front of her, with a goblet in his hand, was no other than Draco Malfoy himself, a scared look on his face, moving forward. "Granger," he said. "They're dead. And there's nothing you can do. They're worse than dead. 'Take me instead! Oh pretty please, with sugar on top!' As if anyone would listen to a Mudblood like you. Aunt Bella tried to kill you, but we have to keep you, and train you to be a Death-eater, because you have brains. I'd prefer you dead."
Hermione jumped up, and began to slap him, screaming and crying. "You disgusting liar! You sicken me! I don't want to be monsters like you things! Out of my way, let me go!" she cried, flailing arund hair frizzing around her shoulders.
A hand clamped around Hermione's mouth, and "Emery!" was shouted. The door creaked open, and slammed shut. A sweet-sounding voice sighed huffily, and said, "You can't handle a Mudblood. Come on, Draco, it's not that hard." So much for sweet. She sounded as bad as the rest. They mumbled in an undertone for a bit, and Hermione was thrown on the bed again. Draco and Emery left, and as the door clicked, Hermione knew she was locked in. It'd give her time to think about what had just happened at least. They'd been running from snatchers... Ron and Harry, they... they were killed, and two young Death-eaters were trying to calm her down. Though they gave up and locked her in a small room. Still weepy, Hermione looked at her room. It was literally the size of a large cupboard. It had a single bed, with a green and silver duvet, and a pile of clothes on the side. There was some drawers, and a big box, which Hermione guessed was her toilet. She chewed on the end of her hair, wondering when she'd be informed where she was, and...
"Draco, get the bloody key! Where is it?"
"Oh, so sorry, Emery dear, it's not like you locked the door, is it?"
"I told you to get it. It's there, look."
Crashing.
"Thank you."
The door unlocked, and Draco and Emery bustled in again, wands raised.
"I-I don't even have my wand. You took it," Hermione squeaked. The two shrugged, and thrusted a plate in Hermione's hand. A bowl of soup and a slice of bread lay on it, and also a glass of water. "Where am I?" she asked timidly, drinking the water.
"Never you mind. Anyway, we're here to give you...?"
"Food?" Hermione asked.
"Mm.." Emery mumbled. "Right then. Come on, Draco."
The two young Death-eaters walked out the door, Draco having said nothing. The door clicked shut again, and Hermione pulled her legs up to her chests, sobbing into her knees. What was going to happen to her?