Knelt on the cold marble floor of the Malfoy's formal hall, her knees ached as the coldness bit vigorously into her flesh. Eyes boring into her from every angle as Voldemort stood before her, Bellatrix stood to his left, their shoulders almost touching. Hermione noticed she had that look in her eye, the excited manic look she got when she was about to torment, berate and beat her.

Hermione knew what was coming. It was the same .day. Voldemort would start out throwing a few spells her way, usually Cruciatus curse and then when that didn't break her he unleashed his little pet Bellatrix Lestrange upon her and she played her part like a perfectly trained dog, never missing a cue.

Except there was something different this time that she hadn't noticed at first. The morning sunlight flittering in through the window reflected upon the silver blade of the sword of Gryffindor clutched in Bellatrix's bony hands as if it were a prize to her.

"Severus," Voldemort rasped.

"Yes, my lord?" He questioned, standing behind Hermione, tilting his head slightly sideways in question.

"Take the sword from Bella." His instructions were clear and crisp.

Severus heard what he had said, but it hadn't registered at first why he needed to take the sword. Looking down his nose at the sword critically, he hesitated for a few more moments before finally stepping forward and taking the blade from Bellatrix.

Wrapping his hands around the hilt, he rested the tip of the heavy blade upon the floor, holding it steady. "My lord-" He began.

"Mudblood," Voldemort almost whispered, his snake eyes almost boring into Hermione's soul as he did so and a chill ran down the length of her spine. "This is your last chance to enlighten me where Harry Potter is or Severus shall remove your head from your shoulders."

"What?" Severus, Hermione and Bellatrix all screeched in utter confusion in perfect unison.

"She deserves no dignity in death, not even worthy of wasting any magic on such a pathetic specimen. She deserves to die as a filthy muggle would."

"My lord," Severus spat out. Hands shaking slightly, he couldn't believe what he was being tsked with. No, he didn't like the little chit, but he didn't feel like he needed to be the one to take her life.

"It's her head or yours," Voldemort snapped, irritated. "I'll hear no more on the subject. Kill the bitch or you can kneel beside her, and Bellatrix will kill you both."

Severus took a deep, steadying breath and lifted the sword. The blade hovered in the air. He didn't see he had much of a choice in the matter. He wasn't a coward, but when it came to his life over someone else's, of course, he would look out for himself before anyone else.

Voldemort slowly walked around the girl, akin to a vulture circling a hopeless case, waiting for them to drop before picking flesh from bones. Hermione didn't even look at him. She was unmoving, unflinching. She didn't want them to get the satisfaction of seeing the fear in her eyes but she would rather die loyal to the cause than rat her best friend out, his task was much more important than her own life and she was happy to accept that.

Severus willed himself to swing the sword, but his arms wouldn't allow him. Frozen to the spot, his heart hammered relentlessly in his chest as if he had just run a marathon. The killing wasn't new to him, but taking someone's life via the sword was almost barbaric. Fingers trembled violently on the hilt. He swung back before sending the blade as hard as he could towards the flesh of her neck.

"STOP!" Voldemort bellowed loudly, causing Severus to halt the sword just as it kissed the delicate skin of her neck, cutting the white flesh just enough for the blood to flow effortlessly.

He watched as she winced as the blade made contact, then collapse forward, sobbing violently from the relief.

"What is it, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked dutifully.

"Take her to one of the spare rooms," he ordered, shaking. "Take her and leave her there to rest. There is much to discuss later."

Severus found it odd that for the first time since he had known him, Voldemort had a blank, deadpan look on his face, and he wondered what had caused the change of heart.

Severus dropped the sword hastily to the ground, the metallic clatter reverberated off the walls as he leaned down grabbing the chain connecting the shackles that bound her bony wrists and in one motion he pulled her roughly to her feet and began walking hastily, his arm stretched out behind him as fingers feverishly grasped the chain.

He felt her weight dragging behind him and he knew she was struggling, but he needed to put as much space between them and Voldemort as he could before he changed his mind.

"Slow down," she panted, her feet moving as quickly as she could move them. Crimson blood still dripping from the flesh wound upon her neck and dripping down her shoulder.

He ignored her, pulling her lithe frame along with ease until he neared the room, reaching his other hand out he grabbed the polished brass knob with vigour and flung the door open hastily, dragging her through the threshold in one swift motion he spun her so hard the backs of her knees hit the large fourposter bed and caused her to collapse onto the soft mattress.

She watched him for a moment, head cocked to the side. Visibly he was shaking, and whiter than usual, there was something lingering in his eyes and she almost for a split-second thought perhaps it was fear. Watching as he began pacing, he ran a stark white hand through raven hair, stopping every few steps to look at her.

"You were just going to kill me?" She asked, taken aback.

He stopped and looked at her quizzically. A smattering of drying blood trickled down her neck and shoulder. She too was shaking, but her demeanour seemed a lot calmer than his own.

"Better you than me," he sneered hatefully at her. "What was the point of us both dying needlessly today? "

She let his words sink in and she really disliked this man. He was blunt and didn't sugar-coat anything, which she admired, but sometimes; it was nice to sugar-coat.

"My biggest question I have right now." He began pacing again, almost talking to himself, "Is why he had a change of mind."

She shrugged her shoulders high, watching him pace. Skin still as white as freshly fallen snow, she trembled slightly as she remembered the feeling of the icy blade upon her flesh and the terror she felt at that moment. Thankful that Snape could stop the blade before it went any deeper, she felt like throwing up as the adrenaline coursing through her body.

He stopped pacing and their eyes locked for but a fleeting second. He saw the terror swimming in her eyes. Her eyes looked straight through him as if she were a million miles away a single stray tear slid down her cheek and he turned away as quickly as he had met her gaze.

Without another word, she watched as he turned swiftly on his heel and strode with purpose out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The morning sun shone through the room, basking her in its warmth as she lay upon the thick velvet comforter. Her body was sore and beaten, relaxing upon the plush mattress as her eyelids grew heavy. Trying with all her might to fight the lull of slumber, not wanting to leave herself vulnerable, but she fought in vain, unable to win against the need to sleep.

o-o-o-o-o

Sitting up at the speed of light, she sucked in a large, panicked breath as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Noticing her wrists and feet felt light, she touched each one with the opposite hand, feeling only flesh, the iron that was once shackled to her gone.

"Finally," the slow drawl of Severus Snape hit her ears. Turning her head just so, following the sound, she saw the man in the inky twilight sitting cross-legged in a chair opposite the bed.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"Hours. I've been here for hours before you ask. The Dark Lord requested your presence once you awoke. He's requested you to shower and I tend to your wounds and bruises." He exhaled heavily out of his nose, flicking his hand casually. The room lit up enough for them to see one another clearly and Hermione had grown so accustomed to being naked before them it had become second nature to her.

"And-" she opened her mouth, but he cut her off again.

"I removed the shackles at the behest of the Dark Lord."

She only nodded curtly before getting to her feet. Opening her mouth, she closed it again as he spoke.

"The bathroom is through there." He pointed an outstretched hand to a closed door to their right.

She only nodded. Her legs shook violently as she walked at a glacial pace across the room. Fingers grasping feverishly at the brass knob, she pushed the door open and closed it gently behind her.

Moving over to the vanity, her fingers gripped the edge of the sink as she looked into the mirror and her heart sank. The hair was matted and encrusted with dried blood stuck to the wound on her neck created only hours earlier. Her face was swollen, and she barely recognised herself. Pulling herself up tall and turned to the left, inspecting the dark bruising that adorned her once unblemished skin. Purple and yellow bruises covered nearly the entirety of her body. Tears pricking heavily at the corners of her eyes, she let out a strangled sob. The trauma and gravity of the situation she was in just hit her now and she realised she had never been more alone in her life than she was now.

She wondered to herself what would become of her. Shuffling to the shower, she turned the water on hard and let it run for a few seconds before stepping in.

The warm water welcoming on her battered and bruised body. Leaning against the Italian marble tiles with her back she slowly slunk down, her back running over the lukewarm tiles until she was sitting in the shower's basin, the water raining over her like a baptism of realisation as the weight of the situation weighing upon her became a reality.

Knee's to chest she sobbed hard, letting out every ounce of fear, anger and sadness that she had been storing inside of her. Body heaving with each sob, she hoped the sound of the shower was muffling the sound of her hopelessness and she sat hoping that Harry would devise a plan to save her because she'd rather be dead than go through living like this every day.