3.

Hermione

The Malfoy manor had such a cold, unwelcoming presence to it that as Hermione stood in the middle of a large sitting room, the leader of the snatchers standing directly behind her with his hand gripped tight on her arm, she felt all of the color draining from her face. It was no wonder how Draco had turned out, what with the environment he had grown up in. There was no life to this room, no possibilities, no hope.

She could see Draco standing off to the side of the pale room, surrounded by his mother, Narcissa, and his father Lucius. As soon as she stumbled into the room, receiving a hard shove from the man with her scarf, Draco had looked right at her and then away again. His face had remained expressionless, but Hermione could see something in his eyes, a sort of remorse that dissolved quickly when Lucius had glanced at him.

Now, he remained motionless, watching as Bellatrix Lestrange jerked Harry's head upwards, and held her wand at his neck in a threating manor. "Well?" she asked, and it took Hermione a moment to realize she was speaking directly to Draco. "Is it him?"

"I…can't be sure."

"Draco." His father was suddenly at his side, casting a quick glance at the group of snatchers behind him before lowering his voice. "Look closely, son." He spoke with a harsh, demanding tone, and gripped the back of his son's neck to force him forwards a few steps. "If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven!" At this, Hermione felt the man holding her moving, and she was soon being pushed into the direction of Fenrir, his arm wrapping around her tightly. The other man walked towards Lucius, who continued to speak almost pleadingly now to Draco. "All will be, as it was! Do you understand?"

Draco gave a jerky nod, but before he could speak, the snatcher did.

"Now we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy." He placed one hand on his hip, underneath his dark jacket, and waited while Lucius's face grew dark.

"You dare to talk to me like that in my own house!"

As Narcissa hurried to calm her husband, Hermione looked to the left of her and saw Ron, who was being held in Fenrir's other arm. She wanted him to look at her as well, just to feel the warmth of a familiar face acknowledging hers rather than the same one of the leader who'd been the only source of communication she'd had since their visit to Luna's father. She was still feeling terribly ashamed of how easily she'd given in to the leader, back when they were in the forest. She shouldn't have told him her name. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference, maybe it would have, who knows? The point was, she fell victim to the heat of his stare, the way her heart began hammering in her chest when she was trapped up against the tree, and the man who trapped her there.

"Don't be shy, sweetie!" Bellatrix purred, and Hermione looked up to see her gently leading Draco over to where Harry remained on his knees, his good eye watching them anxiously. "Now, if this isn't who we think it is, Draco, and we call him, he'll kill us all." Draco bent down and peered at Harry's face. Bellatrix's lips pulled back into a tight smile. "We need to be absolutely sure!"

Just like a few weeks ago, when she was staring eye to eye with the snatcher behind her enchantment, Hermione began to question her own magic. Had her spell concealed Harry's identity well enough? She still had his glasses in her pocket, so that would take away from a key aspect of his usual appearance, but that snatcher, the one who didn't know Harry at all, had recognized him from a slight line on his forehead. Draco had known Harry for as long as Hermione had, and although not as well, she knew he would be able to tell it was him.

"What's wrong with his face?" Draco asked quietly.

"Yes," Bellatrix looked up, her eyes flying around the room to each face curiously. "What did happen to his face?"

Hermione adverted her gaze to the cold, green tiles of the floor, but she could immediately feel Bellatrix watching her, even as one of the snatchers suggested Harry caught something while in the forest. A moment passed where no one said anything. And then, Bellatrix spoke quietly, her voice like slick velvet and directed at Hermione, no doubt.

"Or…ran into a stinging jinx."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She knows.

"Was it you, dear?" The sound of Bellatrix's heels across the floor made her wriggle against Fenrir's hold, struggling to free herself before the witch could reach her. Thoughts and images flashed before her eyes, ones that all involved pain and torture; two things Hermione just couldn't very well stand. The footsteps grew closer and soon, with her eyes lowered on the ground, she could see Bellatrix's shoes, right in front of her, and the hem of her dark dress, the torn black crinoline splayed out with the layers of tulle already separating from one another.

But nothing happened.

Bellatrix didn't say a word to her. In fact, the moment her shoes ceased their trek across the floor, they started again, walking past Hermione to somewhere behind her. "What is that?" she asked quietly, almost so quiet that it sounded surprising light coming from such a horrible, foul mouth. "Where'd you get that from?"

Hermione didn't have to look to know what the problem was. She'd known the moment they stepped foot into the Malfoy manor that the Gryffindor sword one of the snatchers held wasn't going to go over very well with the people inside, but she hadn't been expecting it to be Bellatrix to react. This was a worse outcome than any of the ones she'd imagined before, or any of the people she figured might spot it first.

"It was in 'er bag when we searched 'er." The snatcher had a lazy tone. "Reckon 'is mine now."

Before anyone said anything, Bellatrix, still in plain view in front of Hermione, shot a spell towards the snatcher, and the sound of him collapsing to the ground with a gasping choke echoed throughout the empty room. Bellatrix then spun on her heels, bringing her wand across the air in a slicing motion. Fenrir crumpled to the ground, thus releasing both Hermione and Ron, and then received another spell, this one much like the chains the snatchers had used earlier, although now it was a snake, wrapping around his neck.

"Are you mad?" The leader of the snatchers cried out, and then received a snake around his neck as well.

This one remained connected with Bellatrix's wand, acting as a sort of whip, and she drew it back sharply so he was knocked off his feet and spun into the air before landing with a heavy thud on the ground. His hands flew up to his neck, trying desperately to rid the snake from it. Hermione closed her eyes, refusing to watch even such a horrible man gasp and writhe on the floor while the breath was stolen from his throat. A moment later, she heard the sound of him gasping heavily, the snake having been released, and Bellatrix shouting for all of the snatchers to get out of the manor at once.

Hermione had only just opened her eyes when she felt a hand gripping the fabric of her jacket sleeve, pulling her away from the wall where she'd retreated to stand shoulder to shoulder with Ron. "Sissy, put the boys into the cellar!" Bellatrix brought her face close to Hermione's, her wild eyes boring into hers. "I want to have a little conversation with this one; girl to girl!"

Scabior

Bringing his hands up to the raw ring around his neck, Scabior tried to soothe the aching burn as best he could but found it useless and let his arms fall back against his sides with an aggravated sigh. They outnumbered that damn Bellatrix four to one and just she'd somehow been the one to come out on top. Evidently, he wasn't the only one who wasn't pleased with this.

"Bloody death eaters." Greyback snarled as soon as they were away from Bellatrix and walking down the long corridor that would lead them back to the front doors. "Thinks she can do whatever she damn-well pleases 'cause she's got that mark on 'er arm." He gave a disdainful snort, and looked down at Scabior, shaking his head. "Like to see 'er without that wand of 'ers." The other snatchers that followed them murmured in agreement, although, Scabior noted, none of them made a move to go back and tell this to Bellatrix. Bunch of cowards, they were.

That was when someone screamed.

Scabior stopped dead in his tracks, surprising himself and the collection of men who followed him. That scream; it was so painful, so blood curdling that he felt goose bumps rising on his skin from where the vibrations of it bounced off the bare walls and hit him again and again. It had to be that Granger girl. She was the only young girl in that room, and it was definitely a young girl's scream: curled at the end, shrill… it just sounded so awful.

"The hell you doin'?" Greyback nudged him roughly. "Let's get out of here!"

There was always going to be a point in Scabior's life, he knew, when the question of good and evil would really start to become apparent, so apparent that he'd have to make the distinction between the two. He swallowed, and brought his hand up to push the loose strands of his hair away from his eyes, forcing himself to think quickly. The girl continued to scream, and with each cry of pain he felt something inside of him, something he'd ignored for so long, aching. How many times had he listened to people scream, mudbloods begging for their freedom, and he hadn't blinked? How many times had he watched someone get hurt while he remained solemn and unaffected? Countless times each, he guessed. So how come all it took was this one girl to break the mold?

He looked down at the scarf that lay delicately on his chest, and touched a finger to the material. If he pressed it close enough to his face, he could still smell her, but only just barely. It had long since receded from the fabric since he'd picked it up out of the forest and found that it contained the same scent as the mysterious girl that night. When he looked at the scarf, he could see it changing in front of him. It wasn't the scarf he'd balled up and shoved into his pocket that night, or the one he handed over to Greyback to sniff her out. No, this was the scarf a young girl wrapped around her neck, just like he had, and pressed her cheek to it, just like he had, when the wind got too chilly or when she was hiding a blush. It was a scarf that could have been a Christmas present, or a birthday present, or a "for-no-real-reason" present.

The point was that it wasn't a mudblood's scarf. It was a human girl's scarf.

A human girl being tortured because of him.

Scabior turned on his heels and began a brisk walk back the way he'd just retreated, hearing the others following him in a confused manor. Greyback caught up, and tried to grab his arm, but Scabior shook him off and continued walking, his eyes set on the parted door at the end of the corridor where he could just barely see the back of Bellatrix Lestrange, bent over Granger who lay writhing on the floor. As soon as he was close enough, he reached out his hands and pushed the door open fully, causing it slam against the wall behind it and direct everyone's attention to him.

Bellatrix, still on all fours, looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "You again?"

"Let the girl go." Scabior stood still with his hands clenched at his sides, although his left was raised higher than the right to be able to reach into his jacket pocket for his wand at a moment's notice.

"This is none of your concern, snatcher. You're of no use to us anymore." Bellatrix looked down at Granger who had her head turned on the ground, staring at Scabior through tear clouded eyes. They lolled upwards to look at the bowing witch as her hair fell over the young girl's face, concealing it completely from Scabior's view. "I'm going to ask again! Where did you get this wand? Where? Tell me!"

There was a whimper from the girl below her, and then Granger spoke, her voice hoarse from her screams. "We found it! It came from nowhere, I swear!" Bellatrix sneered and grabbed the girl's arm, holding it out from her body on the floor and roughly pushing the sleeve up so a fair bit of skin was bare. Scabior could see that there were already two letters carved into Granger's arm; M and U. Crimson blood trickled from each. Bellatrix poised her wand over the skin, using it like a pencil to carve another letter: D. Hermione writhed beneath her, her feet kicking uselessly into the air as she screamed.

His ears ringing, Scabior turned his head to look at the Malfoys. The three of them remained in a huddled clump against the far wall, all eyes adverted elsewhere to avoid watching what was occurring. None seemed to be hearing the young, pleading voice coming from the middle of the room, or if they did they chose to ignore it. Scabior couldn't, though. Through her screams, he sensed truth, and knew this Hermione girl wasn't lying. So how come Bellatrix couldn't? Eying the witch to make sure she wasn't looking, he reached inside of his jacket and grabbed his wand, sliding about three quarters of it up his sleeve to keep it concealed. He just needed the proper opportunity.

"You filthy mudblood!" Bellatrix cried, pulling her wand away to point it at the girl's face again, pressing the tip into her cheek. "You filthy, lying mudblood! I know you've been inside of my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth!"

Hermione twisted her neck, trying to get out from under the witch. "We haven't! We didn't steal anything!"

"Liar!" Scabior could see Bellatrix leaning towards her arm again, ready to finish her carving. She wasn't going to get the chance.

Pulling his wand from his sleeve, he pointed it at her, and shouted "Stupify!", watching as she flew backwards and away from Granger. The three Malfoys were all grabbing for their own wands, but Scabior was too quick for them. He sent a spell into the floor at their feet, causing an explosion that shook the entire home and concealed them in a cloud of rubble and dust. He ran towards the girl, lying still on the ground, and wrapped one arm underneath her back, struggling to get her into an upright position. How the hell was he supposed to get her out of the house?

"How dare you!" Bellatrix was getting to her feet, grabbing for her wand off the ground. "How dare you!"

Scabior looked back at the doorway where Fenrir and the other snatchers were watching him, none seeming too eager to hurry over and help him. He knew their obedience to the Dark Lord was stronger than whatever obedience they'd had towards him. The girl in his arms stirred, moaning painfully as she cradled her arm against her chest. Hearing this, Scabior turned his gaze down at her, just barely able to see her face and the tears that stained it.

At the same time Bellatrix had retrieved her wand, Potter and the ginger were making their way up the cellar stairs, wands drawn as well. The red haired one noticed Scabior with Hermione and a shadow crossed his face. He pointed his wand. "Let go of her!"

Scabior had no choice.

He disapparated, taking the girl with him.

A/N: I don't quite like the ending. It seems rushed, I know, but I'm going out and wanted this finished and posted tonight. Sorry! xP Thanks to all of my readers! I really appreciate your reviews!

Edit January 18/12: hi me again ! sorry for how long it is taking to post the next chapter. I've had this dreadful writers block for weeks now and whatever I've tried to write always seems to end up deleted from just how much I hate it. I have a lot written for the next chapter, but i just need to finish it off and decide whether I like it or not before I post... soon though, or at least that is what I am hoping!