So, I decided to take my story from speaking in third person to speaking in first person. I wanted a little more personal feeling with Hermione and George, so I'm planning on having the Chapters flip back and forth between points of view. I will write in the beginning who's point of view it will be so no one gets confused (I hope). This chapter is a little short, but it explains a couple things. Thank you for reading!
cathernatural.812: I'm flattered that you think that first chapter could have been a one-shot! But here's the second one for you and more to come. Thank you!
jamcreynolds: Thank you! I promise your questions will be answered in future chapters. Hopefully a couple in this little one!
Chapter II: Filthy Creature
George's Point of View
I stumble into a cold cell when some rough man shoves me, but thankfully, I stay on my feet. Sadly not everyone was so lucky. As I turn, Hermione closely follows me and as she's tossed at my feet on the ground. She doesn't move and I can feel my stomach drop in worry. Please be okay Hermione, you've finally been found alive, don't go on me now… I reach out and touch her shoulder; I feel a small twitch of reflex that relieves me. I look up to glare that the man that threw us in such a horrible place. He's charming the door to stay locked, keeping us in here like a couple of wild animals. This man is big in both directions, disgustingly so. His face has a crushed look that gets worse when he sends a cheeky smile in my direction. It's mocking and makes the heat come up to my face in anger, something that is rarely brought out in me. I don't like the feeling.
"Goodnight little filths," the man sneers out, patting the bars to make them clatter as if to scare us. What a pig. I'd like to experiment with pranks on him!
As his booted footsteps disappear into the darkness, Hermione stirs under my hand. I flinch back, startled that she has suddenly moved. She staggers when trying to stand, I act on instinct and put an arm around her shoulders. I haul her to her feet, her legs shake and I see her press a hand to her arm. Blood splatters to the stone floor in tiny droplets, I try to pretend not to notice but inside I can feel my heart pounding. Sometimes it's hard to keep my lighthearted demeanor. It's always been easier for my twin. I remember a girl that we both dated at different times telling us that I was the sweet and more sympathetic one and Fred was the tougher and more indifferent one. I couldn't see it then because she was sort of a strange girl that neither of us stayed with any amount of time. But I suppose I have to see it now.
"I think you need to sit for now," I say worriedly. She shakes her head, but I lead her over to a corner anyway. I slump her against the wall and sit next to her right side, the side of her bleeding wound. "Let me look." She folds her arm against her body. "Hermione," I mumble and gently pull her arm to me. I know she doesn't want me to see that she can be hurt, but I have to know. I have to try and help, she would do the same for me any day. For anyone really, that's just how Hermione Granger is.
I can feel her shakiness as I pull it close to me. I don't know whether it's from pain or from not wanting to show me, it keeps me gentle though instead of frantically trying to scrutinize her arm like I want to. I have to hold it close to my face so I can see in the dark but it causes an uneasy shock to go through me. The blood smears look black in this lighting; it still seeps freely from the cuts, falling onto my palms. But the cuts aren't just ordinary random slices, it spells out a word. Well, two words actually. All the way from her wrist to where her arm folds the terrible letters spell—
Filthy Creature.
It makes me feel sick, but the more I look the more scarring and scabbing old words I can find. Disgusting. Worthless. Prisoner. Nobody. Vial. Ugly. Animal. Brat. Selfish... One more hurtful word covers her skin at least five times in different places. It must be Bellatrix's favorite.
Mudblood.
"Oh, Hermione," I breath. I hope she doesn't actually believe any of these hateful words forced onto her porcelain princess skin. None of them are even true, not even "Mudblood" because that's not the proper term to say to anyone. Not even in a joking way! Whether they come from Muggle parents or not. Bellatrix is cruel.
I rip off the very bottom edge of my shirt, it's a little long on me anyway. I can feel her watching me, curious and studying. Always studying everything. I start to wrap the soft dark green cloth tightly around the word, erasing it from sight and hoping the bleeding will stop with the pressure.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"I can't believe you've been here all this time," I blurt out. Feeling awkward all of a sudden, I quickly tie the ends of my bandage together and let go of her arm. I didn't mean to say that yet, but I really want to know what's been happening here with her all this time. Everyone's been so worried, every joke my brother and I make comes back at us with a sad "Hermione would have laughed". Talk about a mood killer.
"How long has it been?" she asks, turning her face to me. Her big brown eyes look black with her pupils so huge to see in the darkness. I notice other little things about her too. Her face looks thinner in the cheeks, and those thin cheeks have lost its natural pink tint. With no pink tint, her skin looks ashy instead of glowing. Her curls look more tangled then they usually do and have hardly any copper shine. There's a healing split in her bottom lip and a fresh looking bluish bruise on her cheek. There's a bit of dried blood by her left nostril where it had started to drip out, and there are light finger marks imprinted on the sides of her neck. It bothers me how much has changed. It bothers me more than I thought it could.
"It's been… a while. Almost three months I think. Everyone's been miserable. No one will laugh at my jokes!" I try to make a smile appear on her face. It doesn't work. She stares at me with those big eyes and then rests her forehead on my shoulder. It surprises me, but I don't mind, she needs all the comfort she can get right now. I touch the back of her head and lean my own against the cold wall.
"How did they get you?" she mumbles against my shirt.
"Snatchers. I was out in the forest with Fred. Rotten luck… Fred was okay though. He tried to go back for me but I told him to go get help. What about you? None of us are really sure how you disappeared."
"I found someone wounded in the street," she starts timidly. "No one was around, only them. His leg was bleeding everywhere and he was yelling and I didn't know!" she cries out, grabbing my arm and pressing her face harder against it. "I didn't know it was a trap. I leaned down and the person screamed for me to go. But I couldn't, he was losing so much blood... That's when they jumped out of every alley way. I didn't notice at first, and then they made a circle around me. There was no way I could have done anything. No way," she trails off for a moment. I pat the back of her head, urging her to continue. "They killed the man with a curse and dragged me with a blindfold all the way here. When they took the blindfold off, I was in front of Bellatrix Lestrange. I got a few hours of torture and then was sent down here to this cell. It's been this way almost daily since I've been here… I think."
We're both quiet and I let the story turn in my head. Hermione's good heart got her into some deep trouble. Hopefully, we'll find a way to get out together.
We feel asleep together like that against the wall. Tomorrow will be rougher than today.
