Pain is the only thing that Hermione can feel. Curses upon curses and she can't breathe. She can't breathe. Her ribs are cracking inside her body and her mouth is being held closed. She tries to scream but can't.
Then the blissfulness washes over her and she sighs with relief and obediently stands up. A slap hits her hard in the face, and she collapses. Her skin is on fire, but she stands up again and again and again.
Marietta's panting and her hand, pointing her wand at Hermione, is shaky. Her face splits in two like a smile, only there's too much malice in it to be a smile.
Hermione crashes into a desk as Filch kicks her knee and she collapses. It digs into her back.
A small voice in her cries out, tells her to run, to scream, but a louder voice tells her to stay, to slap herself as hard as she can, and that voice always wins.
Blood is on her fingertips, blood that the voice tells her she deserves, and she believes it, agrees with it.
She's sobbing, trying to drown out that voice, clenching her fingers so hard her knuckles turn white, salt on her lips.
She knows something isn't right, but it feels so nice to let go of control.
A door slams open with a yell. Hermione looks up, and her blurry vision almost doesn't recognise her for a second. Pansy stands there, victorious, outlined by the lanterns behind her.
Hermione collapses. Marietta's wand lifts as she shouts, and the voice is gone. Hermione lifts an arm, so heavy that she can hardly breathe, in Pansy's direction.
Pansy's face is as furious and vengeful as a biblical angel, wreathed in light and afire with vengeance. She shouts, and light explodes around Hermione. Marietta growls and fires off a spell, but Pansy blocks it, and with a flick, sends a desk into her. She hisses in pain and bends over.
Hermione tries to shout as Filch tries to hit Pansy with a chair. Pansy glances at Hermione, worried, as the chair hits her. She cries out. Filch kicks her and she shouts. Hermione's hand slowly drifts to her wand, still in her pocket. Her fingers tremble as she takes it out.
Marietta stands up and lashes a curse into Pansy's side. She bites down on her lip so hard it bleeds and Hermione aches. Somehow this hurts more than her own torture, watching Pansy's.
Her hand is shaking, her nerves and muscles still spasming from the curses. Marietta throws another curse at Pansy, who doesn't cry out this time.
She points the wand at Marietta and quietly whispers the petrifying jinx. She doubts she'd be able to cast any spells that require more power right now. She's still shaking and aching. She's just so tired.
Marietta freezes where she stands, hand still outstretched. She clearly wasn't expecting Hermione tobe able to move, much less cast a spell. Filch starts when Pansy spits on the ground and slowly stands up and turns to face him.
His face pales and he takes a step backwards.
"It was her! She forced me-"
Pansy slashes her wand through the air and his body wrenches against the wall.
Hermione's wand falls from her hand, clattering against the floor loudly. Pansy spins around.
Her footsteps are loud in Hermione's ears. The world seems to spin around her despite her cheek pressed against the cool floor.
Pansy's feet slip in the blood as she stumbles to Hermione's side. Her hands find the holes in her face, her side, the blood on her hands, her spinning eyes.
The world flashes in front of her eyes as she is lifted into the air. She's spinning, or is that the world? She can't tell them apart. Pansy's wand is steady as she carries Hermione floating down the bumpy stairs.
Voices talk behind her and in front of her and all around her, and soon they're spinning too, and she cries out because they sound like the voice that was in her head, and she can't go through that again, she can't.
Soft hands are pushing her down but they feel like iron bands against the holes in her. She's screaming, screaming until her voice is hoarse, and potions are being shoved down her throat, and now she's choking. The potions taste the same and blood, and she's back there in that room.
She's pushed onto a bed, but it feels like a desk hitting her, and soft hands change her out of her bloody robes, but they feel like kicks lashed into her side.
She's thrashing now, and soft hands clutch hers tightly until they dig in, but Hermione doesn't mind because they ground her and bring her back to this dark place that smells like salt and healing potions and clean cloths and cold water.
Then her mouth is opened, and warm liquid is poured in, and she collapses into fitful sleep and welcoming blackness.