Scene Three: Cowardice and Idiocy

Draco's fingernails cut tiny half-moons into his palms as he listened to the scuffling and snapping of his aunt freeing Granger. Even the fire seemed to be holding its breath, waiting to see what Bellatrix would do. Draco stared pointedly at the flames, because even though he couldn't avoid the sound, he intended to do everything in his power not to watch someone else he knew choke on their own blood in his sitting room.

"Aren't you going to help?" his father hissed in his ear, claw-like fingers gripping Draco's shoulder and turning him to face the room. The untied prisoners stood at Scabior's wand-point, except for Granger. His aunt, having retrieved her wand from the younger witch's grip, laughed like she had glass in her throat.

"You thought you would get away with my wand, did you, ugly mudblood? I assume you stole my sword as well?" Bellatrix held the younger witch up by her hair, pulling like she might shake the words out of her. Granger only glared.

"How did you get that sword you nasty little bitch?" Bellatrix pointed her wand at Granger's throat, her voice quickly rising to a screech. "Where did you steal it from?" Granger's gaze, impossible though it seemed, hardened. She spoke not a word.

Draco swallowed hard, fighting the urge to cock his lip in a smile at such defiance. But when his father's fingers trembled in excitement on his shoulder, all pleasure he might have felt faded away. Bellatrix hated nothing more than a prisoner that didn't beg and cry.

"Draco," his aunt screamed, feeling his gaze. She turned to glare at him, an insane glint in her eyes and Granger's hair still wrapped in her fist. "Since you don't have the stomach for real work, would you take the other blood-traitor scum downstairs?"

Relief swept through his bloodstream. He knew he should be ashamed of it, of his aunt's cutting words, but shame was the last thing on his mind. This was a reprieve he would pay for later, but right now he was only too happy not to have to watch. He slid his wand smoothly out of the strap holding it under his shirtsleeve.

"Incarcerous," he whispered, re-tying Potter and the Weasley back to their Gryffindor friend and the goblin. Keeping his wand pointed at them, he skirted around his aunt and the mudblood.

"Out," he snapped, prodding the group of prisoners toward the door of the drawing room.

"No," the rough voice of the Weasley answered, just as Bellatrix hollered a cruciatus curse behind them. Draco's eye twitched as he listened to the mudblood witch let out a strangled gasp and fall, seizing, to the floor.

"LET HER GO!" screamed the weasel, fighting furiously against his bonds.

Draco clenched his fist around his wand, forcing himself not to look back, not to take in Granger's inevitably twisted shape and an almost pretty face that was probably contorted from the suffering of a pain so terrible she could not make a sound. He silently incanted a locomotor prisoners before biting out an answer to the Weasley.

"Let her go, eh? That's an excellent dream." It's also a naïve one, he added to himself. No one was left alone once Bellatrix got her claws in them. Draco strode from the room with the tied up group in tow, ignoring the Weasel's guttural screams and the goblin's shushings.

As soon as they were across the threshold and out of the toxic air of the drawing room, Draco's shoulders relaxed a bit. He walked silently along the paneled hallway, not bothering to light the lamps.

After a moment, the Gryffindor whose name Draco couldn't remember spoke to him. "You're a real cock, you know that Malfoy? She's your classmate."

Draco snorted, but his stomach flipped at the truth of the words. "She isn't my friend. And she was stupid to challenge my aunt."

"That's no reason to let her die!" the Weasley shouted. "Besides, Hermione is smarter than all of us."

A metallic taste hardened in Draco's mouth at the thought of what would become of Granger, but she had decided her fate. Angrily, he whirled and stabbed his wand in Ron Weasley's face.

"Granger was stupid. She should have known better than to fight back. Not here, not in the Dark Lord's snakepit. She'll die for that choice."

The ugly swelling that was Harry Potter spoke for the first time. "At least she won't die a coward like you."

Anger roiled in Draco's stomach. He wasn't dense enough to pretend he wasn't a coward, but he was sick of people pointing it out. Especially someone like Potter, who wouldn't kill a person either, and who was notorious for getting idiocy and bravery confused.

Not gracing anyone with a response, Draco turned around and took a sharp left to descend down the stone steps that led to the cellar—which had begun to double as a dungeon. Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, the bloody sound of Bellatrix screaming dripped through the floorboards of the mansion. A sharp shiver raced down Draco's spine.

He shoved the prisoners through the door in front of him, and followed them inside. He cast the ward to lock the door and collapsed on the floor, willing himself not to hear the sounds coming from above.

\\\

Pain. Excruciating pain. It popped like gunpowder in Hermione's eyeballs, bubbled under her flesh like oil. Her bones creaked, threatened to snap under the pressure building in her marrow. At some point, she had fallen to the floor. Her friends were gone, led away by a slate-faced Draco. She was going to die here, alone in a roomful of Death Eaters.

A distant echo of Ron screaming her name ricocheted off the walls, but the young witch could barely recognize it through the grating of Bellatrix screaming in her ears.

"I will rip off a limb for every time you don't answer me!" Each syllable was punctuated by a fresh wave of pain for Hermione. Tears spilled down her face, mixing with snot and filling her mouth. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to speak.

"What else did you take from my vault at Gringotts? WHAT ELSE?" Bellatrix's fingers lifted Hermione's chest from the floor. Hermione only glared.

"You don't want to speak?" Bellatrix hissed, "Don't worry, by the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to!"

Hermione choked, spitting out the fluid in her mouth, before rasping, "We didn't steal it."

"You filthy blooded little bitch!" Bellatrix screamed, shoving Hermione away. Her head struck hard against the floor and the room began to swim and pulsate dizzyingly. But just as the sweet darkness of unconsciousness began to sweep over Hermoine, an acid burning seared across her forearm. It took only seconds for her entire arm to go numb, but she could vaguely feel the flesh of her hand seize against Bellatrix's grip on her wrist. The burning quickly licked along her whole nervous system, exploding into the sensation that she was being ripped apart ligament by ligament. The pain clawed its way down her legs and up her neck, wrapped her heart in a vice grip, and finally, finally, a scream wrestled its way out of her throat.

a/n: I suppose this is kind of short, isn't it? Better than nothing after two years? I plan to get this story ramped back up now that I've finished my B.A. and assorted certificates. There's suddenly so much fucking free time that I can write for fun! I hope some of you are still along for the ride. I promise you a longer, more thrilling chapter next week.

In the meantime, I'm going to cuddle with my cat and listen to the rain.

xoxo scrimmie