So, do I know where this is going? Vaguely, but not really. But I'm enjoying writing it, and seeing where it take me. I hope the read is also enjoyable. Please review if you feel so inclined. :)


Ha.

HA.

HAHA!

The laughter burst out of her for a moment, before she managed to contain it. Then she spoke, and probably the most reasonable sentence she'd constructed in months, maybe even years, fell from her lips.

"Because it's the only thing that makes me feel alive anymore."

Penny was silent, watching her carefully for a long moment before she said, "I'm sorry, Hermione, I have to heal them."

"Please, can you leave the straight-jacket off this time?" She noticed her voice was ragged from all the screaming. She hadn't spoken intelligible words at a normal volume like this in a long time.

"Of course not!" Mildred huffed. She had regained her composure it seemed. "You'll just scratch yourself up again."

Penny carefully began to trace her wand along the gashes, muttering soft spells of healing. Her magic at least was tolerable, not entirely pleasant but not repugnant.

She used to do this. After viciously tearing through the soft flesh, She would always trace each gash or bruise with her wand lightly, healing them to pale scars, and leaving a trail of soft kisses. Hermione moaned; the sadness was flooding into her again.

She saw from the corner of her eye, Mildred approaching, wand raised to help with the healing.

"No! Don't touch me with your filthy magic!" The harsh sneer contorted her face.

"Here we go again." Mildred grumbled, raising her wand anyway.

The sticky spell, like a sweaty palm reached for her, running the length of one of the gashes in her cheek. She would have vomited if she had eaten anything recently. She only ate when she had no choice in the matter, the reason her ribs were clearly visible.

"Mildred, perhaps you should let me handle the healing?" Penny asked quietly.

The witch huffed, "Fine then. I'll get the potion ready for those infections."

By the time the younger witch had finished healing all the other cuts, and the potion had been poured onto the festering ones, she was exhausted. The witches wrapped her torso again, and were about to restrain her with the jacket once more.

"Wait, just a few minutes to move, please?" Stooping to pleading like this was utterly disgusting to her, but she couldn't stand the thought of the straight jacket, however long she could hold it off, the better.

"I don't think so dearie, you'll just hurt yourself again." Mildred was probably still cross about being tossed across the room. She hadn't been that rough with her. Well, maybe the spell had been harsher than she'd meant, magic was difficult to control without a wand. That was one of the reasons most never tried after they got a wand.

"No, give her a moment Mildred, please." Penny gazed at her, "We can keep an eye on her." With that the blonde witch stepped back and removed the body bind with a flick of her wand.

Immediately, her right hand shot to her left forearm. Tracing down the thin white spider-web scars. Gently caressing them with her soft fingertips. This was Her gift. She closed her eyes, forgetting the medi-witches as she traced each crude letter one at a time, worshiping them.

M

Terror had filled her, wracking her entire body. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears her skin felt hot, the weight of the woman grinding her into the floorboards. The cackling mad laughter. She was not afraid to face death, but this…this was something different, ever since she'd run into Her, at the ministry, she'd known.

The first cut stung ripped into the virgin flesh of her arm. A high-pitched scream echoed around the handsome room, it was like no sound she had ever produced. It was torn from her very soul she was almost certain. Another line, then another, and another. The screams grew louder, more frenzied, more pained.

U

She was just a girl, before that night. She'd faced down many horrors, she had been brave standing by Harry and Ron through the toughest times she could remember. All of it meant nothing in those moments, ticking by so slowly, as though time had stopped and each burning cut took another lifetime to complete.

D

Something was happening to her. Changing her. Fire was spreading through her veins, with every cut it was growing. Stronger, brighter, hotter. She was burning. Ablaze with pain that made its way through her like molten lava.

B

She couldn't hear the screams anymore, though she was vaguely aware they were still being ripped out of her. Her watery brown eyes had opened, and been caught in the black holes of Her eyes. They sucked her into them. She felt her head getting lighter and lighter and something, something was different.

L

It felt…good. Damn good. Each cut began to feel better than the last, the pain morphed into an ache of pleasure, and she was craving more. The woman was smiling. Before the smile had sent a wave of sickness through her, but no, now she could see. It was beautiful.

O

Her lips. They were so close. All she wanted was to touch them. Something was stirring in her core, something no one had ever made her feel. She longed to be touched, longed for the burning; she had never felt this alive.

O

She was touching her, snaking her hand slowly across the heated skin. It felt so good. Her lips were so close, hot sweet breath an aphrodisiac aroma.

D

Their lips met briefly brushing against one another as the final cuts were made. Sharp teeth scraped against the soft flesh of her neck, and then Her breath slid over to an exposed ear. And She whispered, nearly silently, the words that would forever haunt her.

The memory was shattered, as she was ripped from her past, to the present. The concerned medi-witches had decided it was time to restrain her once more. Her dark eyes flashed open as the bonds wrapped around her, and she realized her left hand had slipped down toward her aching center while the right still cherished the scars. Now her hands were firmly behind her again. The memory of the night of her claiming always got her extremely wet, and she wasn't sorry. She wasn't even really certain it was the way it had happened.

She could see the blonde woman, slightly red, avoiding eye contact with her. The other was grumbling. "I told you it was a bad idea." The disgust in her voice was evident.

Eyes narrowed, as a flash of anger returned, but she said quite calmly, "Thank you, Penny." Then turned her head toward the other woman, "Just because you never get off, doesn't mean I shouldn't, you dumb bitch." She had no shame, that had been stripped from her upon entrance here.

The woman spluttered, reddening. Was it from embarrassment or anger? She hadn't meant to ask the question aloud. Did she? Sometimes she couldn't tell.

Penny on the other hand snorted and attempted to hide the amusement.

"I've had it with this!" The woman screeched, turning to Penny, "I'm requesting a transfer, I can't deal with this anymore, good luck with this." And with that she stormed from the room, hopefully never to return.

Months of needling at the woman had paid off. Good riddance. No more fucking humming.

"Oh dear," Penny sighed. "I'll have to got speak to the Healers." She was about to leave, but…

"Say, do I- did I used to know you?" The woman's slight familiarity was starting to drive her crazy, well, crazier than she already was.

"Oh, well, I suppose you did, sort of. I was at Hogwarts." The witch shrugged, "A few years ahead of you, and in Ravenclaw, but you probably saw me around. Penelope Clearwater." With that she closed the door, and the lights went back down to the low, flickering blue.

Huh, the funny coincidences of the world. That girls name had saved her once. That girl's name had sent her to Her. That hadn't been the first time they'd met, but still, it seemed like fate. Maybe she'd imagined the fire, maybe she was imagining that it had been that way now. Perhaps she had passed out from the pain of the cuts and in her delirium imagined everything. Maybe she was actually dead now. The blade had probably been laced with something. Was this Hell? When had she gotten here? As soon as the cold blade pierced her skin? Before that maybe. The first time her eyes had fallen into those mysterious black pools. She was drowning in them now. Her life was a ruse. She craved pain, those scratches, how she missed them. The ones she inflicted on herself were never as good as the ones She had done. Their burn leaving an acidic burn in her mouth. Iron blood. The sweet juices of pleasure, their sweaty bodies melting together in blissful ecstasy. Her spicy scent, gulped in by the lungful.

The burning in her legs was becoming painful at the torrent of memories, she ached to be touched. Squirming on the padded floor, she searched for some way to get relief to the pulsing between her legs, but as she'd found every time before, she just couldn't manage to find a good angle. Eventually she slumped, defeated.

She closed her eyes, no point in staying conscious if she could help it at this point. Perhaps her dreams would take her to where she desperately needed to get. The words She had said that day echoed in her mind.

"You belong to me now, Mudblood."

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I belong to you, Bellatrix.