She laid on the floor, feeling the cold stone beneath her bare back. The sound of her screams still echoed off the walls from the last CRUCIO shouted at her, but she barely heard them over the sound of her own ragged breathing, harsh and gasping from the tremors still racking through her body. With a dozen eyes upon her, she wanted to cover her exposed skin with her hands, but they weren't cooperating. Her aching arms only managed to lift a few inches from the floor before falling back to the stone beneath her.
"P…pl…please." Her voice was barely loud enough for her own ears to hear it. "We… we… found…"
Standing over her, Bellatrix screamed, "Stop lying, mudblood!" Spitting the insult that Bellatrix assumed still affected her. Having it hurled at her for years paired with the effects of the Cruciatus still wreaking through her body caused little reaction. This seemed to infuriate the angry witch above her even further. "STRANGULATUS!"
She immediately felt all the air being sucked from her lungs. She tried to breathe in deeper, but she couldn't catch up with what was being taken. Suddenly, she rose to her knees and found she could move her hands again, but instead of covering her bare skin, she used them to grab her throat, trying to force it open somehow. She had no more air left to beg for help.
As she collapsed to the floor onto her stomach, the edges of Hermione's vision began to blacken, and her last thought was that in all the ways she imagined her death, lying almost naked in the middle of Malfoy Manor never crossed her mind. It was almost comical, but she had no air to laugh…
Hermione gasped violently as the room swirled back into view. She rose to her hands and knees, gagging and heaving. Once again, she felt their eyes on her, but the feeling of being able to breathe again took over her thoughts. She tried to stand but her legs were still too weak to hold her, so she sank to her knees, still trying to breathe in as deeply as she could while retching from the feeling of air inside her body again.
She was vaguely aware of Bellatrix circling her, and she immediately tensed again as she felt a hand in her hair. It was gentle at first, and she felt a body kneel behind her, pulling her against them. Hands twisted around her body.
"Such a beautiful girl," Bellatrix cooed from behind her. Still recovering from the lack of oxygen and now being mauled by an insane witch, she was paralyzed with fear. Rough hands rubbed her skin, grabbing and scratching their nails across her chest and stomach. She was completely exposed to the group of people in front of her. Eyes looked on, some greedy and wanting, others indifferent, and a few in horror and anguish.
"Maybe the Dark Lord will give you to me after the war is over. You'd make a lovely plaything." She spoke in a mocking saccharine voice, as if she were talking to a pet rather than a person she was torturing.
Finally, the witch's hands rested on either side of her face, one tangled in her hair and the other holding onto her jaw. Bellatrix suddenly snapped her head to the side, pulling her back by her forehead and exposing her throat.
"Too bad you're a filthy mudblood! I wouldn't have you sully my house, even as a toy." Her voice was pure vitriol, no trace of the former sugary sweet falsetto.
"Now, I'm going to ask again, and I won't do it so nicely." This third voice was the one that scared her the most, quiet and intimidating, laced with unspoken threats. It's no wonder everyone believed Bellatrix to be crazy. She seemed to have a dozen personalities, each one more menacing than the last.
Then Hermione was pushed to the floor again, slapping her forehead against the stone. She almost didn't register the pain at all. After what felt like hours of the Cruciatus curse, what was a gash across her forehead? As she tried to turn over, tried to push the woman away, she felt warm blood dripping in front of her eyes, mixing with her tears and limiting her view. Even with half her vision obscured, she still saw Bellatrix's black mane and wild eyes leaning over her. She was angry, sparks flickering from the ends of her hair, but underneath that rage, there was something else, fear?
"You will tell me what I want to know, or I'll cut you apart piece by piece. Do you think your ginger blood-traitor will still want you if we give you to him in a box?" Kneeling above her, Bellatrix was so close that she was able to whisper it across her face.
"WHERE DID YOU GET THE SWORD?!"
The screaming voice so close to her face caused Hermione to jump violently.
"I… I told you… please stop… I… we just … found… I swear." She barely got the words out between sobs. "Please… stop… I don't know how…"
"Fumus Minima," Bellatrix whispered almost inaudibly and a small trail of smoke emanated from the tip of her wand. Twirling her wand around the smoke, she said, "Fumus Lamina," and the smoke transfigured into a small silver knife. Bellatrix climbed on top of her chest and tilted her head mockingly while leaning down to stare into her victim's face.
"Tell me the truth."
She tried to turn her face away from the witch now sitting with her knees on either side of her chest, but Bellatrix grabbed her face, forcing their eyes to meet. The sight of the witch so close was enough to stop her heart. Her pupils were almost entirely black, and her teeth were decayed from years of neglect and inattention. It was obvious that Bellatrix may have been a beautiful woman once, but her lack of sanity and the years spent in Azkaban took that away. The face that remained was cruel and menacing.
"I assure you, the Dark Lord will find out the truth, and there's a good chance he'll kill everyone here, those loyal to him and those not. Ridding the world of one mudblood cunt beforehand is of no consequence." Her breath was acrid against her cheeks, and Bellatrix began dragging the blade down her arm, not enough to cut her, but enough to show her what was about to happen if she didn't have answers.
She pleaded while switching her eyes back and forth between Bellatrix's and the blade grating down her arm. "I… told you. We found it… I swear. It was in the woods… at the bottom of a pond… please don't—"
She was cut off by the sound of her own screams as the blade carved into her arm just above her wrist. She couldn't fight at all with Bellatrix sitting on her chest, pinning her arms beneath her knees. The cut to her forehead didn't register at all when she hit the floor, but as the knife carved into her skin she screamed until her voice cracked. She scratched her fingers across the cold tile beneath her so hard she felt her fingernails crack from the pressure.
"You think you deserve to walk among us? You are nothing. If you ever leave here, the entire world will see forever just who you are." She muttered this all under her breath; she was talking to herself more than those looking on in the room or the victim beneath her.
She was still screaming and writhing in pain under the weight of Bellatrix on her chest, but her voice was so raw it didn't even register as her own.
"HERMIONE!"
"Please, please…" She could hardly speak to plead now.
"HERMIONE!"
Bellatrix leaned back up, marveling at her own work, and pulled Hermione's arm to her face, forcing her to look at the word carved into her skin. MUDBLOOD.
"HERMIONE!" Then the door to the closet banged open. Harry was standing in the doorway silhouetted by the light behind him. He knelt down in front of her and pulled her hands gently from her ears.
"Hermione, look at me. It's okay. I'm here. Look at me."
Slowly, Hermione released her hands from her ears, allowing Harry to take them into his own, and opened her eyes. Her eyes widened at the sight around her. Glass and broken bottles littered the floor and there were shards of a shattered broom embedded in the walls around her. She was covered in sweat, tears, and something else, cold and smelling astringent.
"Hermione, it's okay. What happened? What can I do?"
"Harry… Harry, I don't know. I don't know. I just… it was… too much. I'm so sorry." She barreled into his arms and collapsed, sobbing. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't handle it. I thought I could."
Harry held her, pulling her into him, and rubbed her hair soothingly, like only a big brother could do. Shutting the door behind him he said, "It's ok, 'Mi. Don't apologize. It's okay." He continued repeating that, like a mantra to soothe her, as she slowly stopped trembling.
She pulled out of his arms, wiping her eyes, "I'm… I'm so sorry, Harry. Did I break all this?" she asked, looking around at the debris around them.
Harry looked back at her sheepishly. "I think so. I couldn't find you, and then I heard a loud bang from in here."
She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I… it was the noise. I thought I was back there." She wiped her eyes and began picking shards off the ground.
"It's your birthday, you shouldn't be in here with me. Go back to the party. I'm just… I'm just going to clean up this mess, and..."
Harry grabbed her hand, "'Mi, please stop saying you're sorry. It's…" He looked toward the door. "It is too much. I told Ginny it was too much. Ron, he… he should've known better. Don't worry about this. It's fine." He took his wand from his pocket and cleared the glass from the floor.
"Good as new," he said, as he finished repairing the broom and sat it against the wall.
Hermione sighed and magically removed the cleaning potions from her jeans. "I'm just going to go upstairs and get cleaned up. I –"
"If you say you're sorry again, I'm going to jinx you." He smiled at her and took her hand. "It's fine, 'Mi. Come on, I'll clear everyone out, and we can –"
"No, Harry. I'm not going to let you sacrifice your entire birthday party because you have to babysit me. I'm perfectly capable-"
"I know you're capable." He said, somberly. "But you're my best friend. You mean more to me than just about everyone out there." He tried to smile at her, but it comes across more like a grimace. "At least let me find Ron-"
"No! Don't do that, Harry. Please," she said, frantic again. Calming herself when she saw concern return to Harry's face, she added, "Seriously. Just… Just go back to the party. I'll go upstairs and get cleaned up a bit, then I'll be back down, I promise. Please."
"Okay," he said, reluctantly. "But if you aren't back down in fifteen, I'm sending Ginny up to get you, and you know she'll just drag you down here by your hair-" Seeing the look on Hermione's face, though brief, ended the attempt at a lighthearted comment. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the – "
She forced a smile, reigning her thoughts back in, and pushed the memory of being dragged across the floor by her hair back into the box where she's tried to keep it for months. "Harry, it's okay." She put her hand on his chest, "I know you didn't mean it that way. It's fine. I'm not that fragile." She laughed, but the sound fell flat in the tiny closet. "I'm fine. Come on, let's get out of here before someone notices the birthday boy has disappeared." She pushed him lightly toward the door.
After giving her one last searching look, he turned to open the door. Pushing it open, the sound of loud music and laughter filled the air. Barricaded in the closet, it seemed almost inaudible, but out here in the open it was immediately overwhelming. Just as they were closing the door behind them, Ron almost collided into them.
Drink in hand, he stumbled back. "Oops…Sorry, guys. 'Mi, where'd you go? You were there, and then you were gone." Before she had a chance to answer, he turned to Harry.
"Rita Skeeter just came knocking wanting to interview 'The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again' again for his birthday," emphasizing the words with air quotes dramatically, almost spilling his drink in the process.
Harry's face reddened and he stormed off toward the front door, muttering about redoing the wards in the morning.
Ron turned back to face Hermione, unfazed by her splotchy cheeks and red eyes, and nodded his head toward the closet. "Good thing it was Harry in there. Any other bloke and I might be worried." He smirked at her and tried to pull her close, but she leaned her head away from him, trying to distance herself.
"Yeah, umm… we were just looking for the mop. George spilled his drink earlier on some old rug, and Kreacher got ticked off. I thought I'd clean it up for him, you know? But Harry said to just leave it alone, so here we are." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Ron, having not caught the obvious lie, continued smirking at her.
He still didn't get the hint as he leant in toward her closer, now with her back against the wall. "Come on back to the party, 'Mi. Feels like we haven't really gotten to talk in ages."
Her heart started to race again as he placed one hand beside her on the wall, blocking her exit toward the stairs. "I was just about to head upstairs to freshen up a bit," she says, trying to sound completely natural despite her heart beginning to race. "I'll be right back down."
"Can I come up with you?" he asked, leaning in closer toward her face, with his blue eyes blazing sincerely into hers. She almost blushed with the intensity in them before remembering the memory of Bellatrix sitting on top of her and how it felt so real moments ago. She rubbed her arm absently, not even realizing it.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to steady herself. Ron, taking this as encouragement, tilted his head down to kiss her. She allowed him to kiss her, kissing back even for a second.
This is okay. This is okay. He loves you.
When he pulled his hand from the wall and began moving it down to her waist, she pulled away from him, sliding out of his grasp and further toward the stairs.
"No, that's okay. I'll be right back down, I promise." Seeing the brief hurt in his eyes, she said, "I'm just not feeling that well. Sorry, Ron." She immediately regretted this, thinking he would follow her upstairs now for sure, just to make sure she's okay.
Quickly, she added, "You should go check on Harry, make sure he isn't going off on Skeeter at his own party."
Before he had a chance to say anything in return, Hermione turned and headed down the hall to the stairs. Halfway up, she chanced a glance behind her to make sure he wasn't following her, but she noticed he had already started to walk away. She sighed, a mixture of relief and disappointment, before going up to her room.