A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, finals. Summer is here though, so more updates should be coming. Anyway, enjoy this chapter (actually don't, it's rather horrible. What happens to the characters, I mean.)

It was freezing, and pitch black. Harry hugged himself, rubbing his arms in an attempt to drive the cold away. Where was he? Why was it so dark, so cold? Why did it feel as though something was wrapped around him, draining his energy, destroying him? He was confused, he was absolutely terrified.

And that's when the pain began.

An agony that he had never known before, tearing through his body and ripping him to shreds. Screams tore from his lips and were soon lost in the blackness, muffled by the empty air around him. The constricting prescence increased, wrapping around him an squeezing, suffocating him. His cries were cut off as he choked, clawing at his chest to try to get the thing off him.

But it was suppressing him, devouring him, taking over him. He let out another shriek, this time in terror, as the thing let go and began to attack his head. And that's when the room (was it a room?) was flooded with light. And he truly wished it was still dark.

Because the light allowed him to see the plethora of torture devices lined up along the wall, ready and waiting to be used. On him. It also allowed him to see the creature attached to his chest, vile and poisoness green, scarlet eyed and fanged, with a snakelike body. And he could see that it was growing stronger as he flickered and faded, growing weaker and weaker, more and more transparent, like a dying candle.

What had happened to him? What was this thing? Why wasn't someone trying to save him, why was no one coming?

Dark, cold.

So much pain.

A dying candle.

Harry's thoughts were becoming fragmented, hysterical, as his brain began to shut down, unable to comprehend what was happening to him. A tendril reached down to lift up a pair of pliers, clacking them ominously. Harry let out a small whimper of fear as he backed up. The creature jerked and he tumbled to the ground, now scuttling crab-like backwards.

And then he hit a wall. A wall of darkness and frigid, frigid ice. Another tendril came down, grabbing his face and forcing him to stay still as the pliers came closer. His mouth was forced open, and the pliers clamped around one of his front teeth. He let out a scream of agony as they pulled, trying to force the creature to let go, the tendrils to release him, the pliers to back away, anything.

One tooth, two teeth, three teeth, four...

It was like some sort of morbid song that kids would sing as they played jump rope. How many teeth would he lose before they messed up, before their feet became tangled in the rope, and they passed it off, laughing, to the next child in line. He knew that what he was thinking wasn't normal. Was he going crazy? Already?

Of course you are, little soul, a voice rang out around the room. The pliers stopped, and pulled back. Harry lay shaking in pain, trying not to think that there was surely more to come. You are inside me, Eeisla, a creature of madness and despair, it's natural you would lose your mind quickly in here.

"Little...soul?" Harry croaked out.

So you can still talk. Ah well, I haven't gotten enough chance to torture you, little soul. The fun is just beginning.

The shrieks of agony rang out through the darkness. And Eeisla laughed.

Hermione's brain was in denial as to what she was seeing. Her best friend, her secret crush, lying motionless on a clean white hospital bed. He looked as if he were merely in peaceful slumber, when in reality, somewhere, he was screaming in agony as he was tortured.

She tried not to think about it. Yet it seemed that the more and more she tried not to, the more she couldn't stop. And she just wanted to scream, to sob, to hit something with all her strength. But she couldn't bring herself to move from her spot by Harry's bed, as if staying there would wake him up. Wishful thinking, she knew that sitting around would only make it worse in the long run.

She couldn't take this. Not now. Not ever, really. She just had to get away from it all. She stood up, taking one last look at her best friend's corpse.

"I'm sorry. I can't stay," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. And that's when she turned tail and fled.

She ran all the way to the front gates before realizing she had no idea where she was going. And then she decided that it didn't really matter. As long as she could get as far away from Harry as possible. Choked sobs forced their way out of his throat as she sprinted towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Let me help him!" she screamed as she entered the woods, not quite sure who she was talking to. "Please!"

She continued to stumble through the forest, half-blinded by tears. After several minutes of wandering, she came upon a clearing. She sank to her knees and closed her eyes, placing her head in her hands, letting the tears flow through her fingers.

This was heartbreak. Real, true, burning and agonizing heartbreak.

It was hot and real, and yet absolutely freezing. She could have sworn that she could see her breath. Wait a second...

She could see her breath. And was that ice creeping along the trees, withering them and killing them? And that's when she heard the voice. Dumbledore's voice. "I'm afraid that Harry Potter was Kissed."

Her worst memory...so that meant...

Dementor!

She let out a choked scream as the tall, cloaked figure glided into the clearing. No, no, this couldn't be happening! Not after Harry, not her too!

"Please leave me alone!" she screamed frantically, throwing out her arms to protect herself. "You monsters already took Harry, let me be!"

A rattling breath filled the clearing and Hermione whimpered, backing away from the horrible thing.

"Someone...anyone...HELP ME!"

What sounded almost like a laugh came from the creatures mouth as it stalked closer and closer to her. The meaning was clear, no one's coming girly.

A cold skeletal hand wrapped around her neck, dragging her face upwards. The dementor then extended her fingers upwards, toward her jaw, forcing it open. She kept her mouth as tightly shut as possible, yet the barest crack was, she knew, enough to administer the Kiss. And the dementor was strong.

With the hand not clasped around her neck, the dementor yanked it's hood off, revealing a gaping hole. And then the Dementor's lipless mouth was on hers and she was struggling, trying to throw the soul-sucking monster off her. But she could feel her strength fading, could see a dark tunnel all around her. And then she felt her soul completely leaving her body, and she could hear screams, desperate, frantic screams, that were most definitely not her own.

And then she could see a pair of emerald eyes full of agony and hopelessness. She landed in a dim, chilly room and stood up, running over to the raven-haired boy lying on the ground.

"Harry!" she screamed, kneeling beside his prone figure.

"Her...mio..ne?" he asked, staring at her in shock. "What are you...doing...here?"

"What is that thing?" asked Hermione, avoiding Harry's question. She really didn't want to admit that she had been stupid enough to run off into the forest with dementors around. And she honestly did want to know why a giant python was latched onto her friend, leaching off his energy.

"I don-" But before he could finish a knife descended, stabbing him in the arm and elicting a gasp of pain.

"Harry!" she screamed, starting forward. Tendrils came out of nowhere, wrapping around her and pinning her to the wall.

"NO, LET ME GO!" she screamed, struggling against the bindings. "LET ME GO!"

Shh, little girl. I'm not going to hurt you. No, I'm just going to make you watch as I torture your friend. Well, at least for now. I might get to you later.

The voice seemingly came out of nowhere, but she knew it was from the dementor that she was imprisoned in.

"PLEASE!" she begged, but the tendrils wrapped around Harry, forcing him to his feet. A branding iron descended to his left arm, and began to burn a Dark Mark into his flesh. He threw back his head and screamed, Hermione joining in as tears streamed down her face and she struggled to escape. But it was hopeless, she knew it, Harry knew it, the dementor knew it.

Do you know what the Mark is, boy? asked the dementor. It's the Mark of the man who killed your parents. You are a traitor, a traitor to your friends, a traitor to your world.

"Don't listen to it, Harry!" screamed Hermione in anguish. "This isn't your fault, you didn't ask for this!"

Shut up, girl, snarled the dementor, wrapping a gag around her mouth.

Hermione was forced to stand there, hopeless and unable to save her friend, as the tendrils branded Dark Mark after Dark Mark into his skin.

This is getting old, muttered the dementor, letting Harry collapse to the floor, shaking and sobbing. The tendrils then released Hermione, allowing her to run over to Harry.

"Harry?" she whispered, reaching forward to clutch his arm. He let out a hiss of pain and flinched away. "Harry..."

"No," he murmered. "No, I'm a traitor, I'm a traitor, let go of me, I'm a traitor."

"You're not. You're not a traitor. Harry, you didn't chose this."

He looked at her weakly, Dark Marks covering his face and neck. She let out a weak sob and threw her arms around him.

Oh no, little girly, you don't get to comfort him, whispered the dementor. And then she wrapped tendrils about Hermione, and she felt her control slipping away from her. A knife was placed in her hand and she looked up at the twitching, sobbing boy on the ground with a maniacal grin on her face.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

"Hermione?" he asked, looking at her with horror.

"Let's see," she said with an insane giggle, grabbing his hand. "Which finger should I cut off first?"

"Hermione, please!"

"Mmm...none," she decided, dropping his hand and turning away. He sighed in relief, before she turned back with that same cruel grin. "I think I'll start with your thumb instead."

And she was laughing, and he was screaming in agony, and the darkness was growing more dark, and the coldness was growing more cold. He could hear a women screaming, and he knew it was his mother, and his own screams were echoing alongside hers as Hermione cut off finger after finger, before just slicing off his right hand and moving on to his eyes.

It was a perfectly composed symphony of anguish and fear. And Harry could feel the python destroying his soul, just as Hermione was destroying his heart.