A/N: If you've read the previous chapter (and I hope that's the case if you're here,) you'll know that this chapter will feature the topic of torture. It shouldn't be too much worse than the book it's from, since I borrowed the dialogue straight from it (oh, yeah, disclaimer, that dialogue doesn't belong to me. In fact, if you recognize it, it isn't mine), but just in case it's something that bothers you, you can PM me for a summary or just skip past the italicized segments. I don't THINK I'll need to change the rating for this fic quite yet, though that may change in the future- I'll keep you updated on any content that may push it over.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and as always, reviews are appreciated!


Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Okay. I'm ready."

Slowly opening his eyes, Severus took in the quiet form of the woman in front of him. To her credit, Hermione held her head high, the soft tremble in her hands the only lingering sign of nervousness about her. She hadn't lied- she was as ready as she was going to be. He inclined his head.

"Then let's begin."

She took a deep breath, rubbing her hands over her thighs as he pulled out his wand. With a silent question in his eyes, he offered her one more opportunity, one more chance, to back out before it was too late. Seeing her resolve hold firm, he pointed his wand between her eyes.

"Legilimens."

The initial flickering of memories came to a jarring halt as she rallied her focus, and he found himself suddenly and abruptly standing inside a familiar portrait-lined room. The purple walls, the gilded mirror over the ornate fireplace, the chandelier up ahead... "The Malfoy's drawing room," he breathed, turning his attentions to the occupants scattered around him.

The first that took his notice were the Malfoys themselves- a mixture of fear and excitement painted over their faces- as well as Bellatrix Lestrange, who was currently standing over a kneeling and furious Fenrir Greyback. In her hand, the Sword of Gryffindor glinted.

He glanced around fervently at the others. Three bodies lay sprawled upon the floor- snatchers, he realized, as he noticed the group of prisoners tied together in the center of the room. Weasley, Mr Thomas, a goblin- was that... Griphook?- and-

He was squinting at Potter, trying to see past the god-awful swelling, when his eyes landed on Hermione, wide-eyed and panicked, looking nearly as thin and malnourished as when he had first seen her post-war. His heart lodged in his throat as a brief bout of panic overtook him.

This isn't real, he told himself, ignoring his useless urge to interfere. She is safe. With considerable effort, he focused once more on what was happening around him.

Greyback had moved, standing behind an armchair, as Bellatrix was turned towards Draco. Her command fell on deaf ears as Severus approached the prisoners, studying them closer. How long had they been camping at this point? How many horcruxes had they faced, had they disposed of? He watched avidly as Hermione's eyes darted from person to person, spot to spot in the room, always calculating, even now. He knew she was sizing up what was happening, and by the white of her eyes he knew that she knew that there was nothing she could do. The realization hit her, and it hit him as he watched. But still she looked.

"The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!" Bellatrix's command rang through, diverting his attention, and he watched Lucius step forward arrogantly- or as arrogantly as he could afford to be, fallen as far as he had by this point- further into the room.

"This is my house, Bella, you don't give orders in my-"

"Do it! You have no idea of the danger we are in!" Bellatrix's shriek pierced his ears, and he flinched; her sheer panic caused a thin stream of fire to flow from her wand, burning a hole in the carpet. Further proof of how panicked, how hysterical, she was.

Then Narcissa gave the command to the werewolf, and he stepped forward, when-

"Wait," Bellatrix said sharply. "All except... all except for the Mudblood."

Though Severus knew what he was to expect, his blood still ran cold.

"No!" Turning sharply, he watched with mild surprise as Weasley shouted, fighting his restraints, "You can have me, keep me!" He winced when the redhead was struck across the face; in his eyes was a desperate pain, a need to protect, and for the first time Severus felt himself relating with the boy.

Bellatrix spoke again, vitriol dripping from her words. "If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them- yet."

As she cut Hermione free from the other prisoners, as she dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room, Severus felt a rage unlike any he had felt before.

The terror in Hermione's eyes as she was separated from her friends, leaving her alone with a demented and desperate Bellatrix Lestrange, matched the horror Severus felt having to witness what he knew was about to come next. And the despair he felt, knowing there was nothing he could do to change it.

The moment Greyback disappeared with the prisoners, Bellatrix threw Hermione to the ground. Circling her like a predator, she held her wand on her threateningly as she hissed, "You and I are going to have a little chat, Mudblood. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll make your death quick." Grabbing her chin, Bellatrix pulled Hermione to her knees. "I would be doing you a favor, you know." Her face was inches from Hermione's, who shook uncontrollably under her touch. "I enjoy dragging it out, but for you I'd make an exception. If you tell me what I want to know."

With a shove, she tossed Hermione's face from her, raising her wand a moment later. "Crucio!" she cast, and Severus blanched as Hermione was thrown against the ground by the force of the spell, a terrible, drawn-out scream ripping from her throat.

Distantly, he could hear a distressed voice from the cellar; Weasley seemed frantic, shouting Hermione's name over and over. For a moment, a brief moment, Severus felt sympathy for the boy- but when Hermione screamed again, all his sympathy was on her once more.

"Where did you get the sword?!" Bellatrix demanded, leaning over a panting, sobbing Hermione. She shook her head fervently, whimpering, and Bellatrix raised her wand again. "Tell me! Crucio!"

Severus could feel the heat of the blood as it whooshed in his head, hear his erratically thudding heartbeat as he witnessed the twists and bends Hermione's body made, thrashing on the floor. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, for all that he was meant to be studying the scene. He was aware of the Malfoys, watching silently, even aware of Greyback lurching in the corner, but his eyes were cemented on Hermione.

"You will tell me!" Bellatrix screamed, casting the cruciatus once more. His hands shaking, Severus took a step forward, before forcing himself to breathe. Watch. Study.

In the same moment she let the spell disperse, Bellatrix stepped forward, grabbing Hermione once more by her hair. "Where did you get the sword?!"

"We found it-" Hermione cried, desperate. "We found it- PLEASE!" For not being happy with that answer, Bellatrix had cast the spell once more.

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it!" Stomping on Hermione's shoulder with one pointed boot, she leaned over her. "You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"

The spell cast once again, and another scream followed, and more desperate shouting echoed up from the cellar-

"What else did you take? What else have you got?" Pulling her knife out from her robes, Bellatrix threw herself on the ground next to Hermione, dragging the tip of the blade down her cheek, her neck, her chest. "Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

Hermione could only shake her head, and Bellatrix shoved off the floor, spitting on her in frustration. "Crucio!" she hissed, and Severus didn't think he would ever forget the piercing scream that followed.

"What else did you take, what else?" she shouted as Hermione sobbed on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. "ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

"Gods alive," Severus breathed. How many times was that? How many more until Hermione would have lost her mind? Before she would have died?

The spell released, and Hermione's body collapsed against the ground. "How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix bent over her, knife pointed at her chest. "Did that dirty little goblin help you?"

"We only met him tonight!" Her voice was unbelievably strong, despite her desperate tone, despite her full-body shaking, her tears. "We've never been inside your vault..." She jerked as Bellatrix lifted her wand, shouting, "It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

"A copy?" Bellatrix sneered. "Oh, a likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!" Severus jumped, his head jerking to the side. He had forgotten- forgotten anyone else was here. Lucius stepped forward eagerly and said, "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

As his godson hurried stiffly in the direction of the cellar, Severus swallowed. How much more- how much more was there to this memory? How was Hermione faring, on the other side of it? To have focused on it this long-

Draco returned, half dragging the goblin Griphook behind him. He marched to the center of the room, tossing the poor creature down next to a barely conscious Hermione. Her chest heaving, she turned her head, and her eyes pleaded with the goblin, begging silently, to lie.

"Don't look at him, you filthy Mudblood! Crucio!"

Even the goblin flinched as Hermione's screams filled the room, and he scooted back as she began to flail.

When her body stilled once more, Bellatrix turned towards the goblin. Closing the distance, she bent down, glaring madly. "If you lie to me, and I'll know if you do," she breathed, "this will be you." Then, without even looking her way, she cast the curse on Hermione once more.

When she released the spell, when Hermione's body stilled once more, she grabbed the sword and shoved it into Griphook's arms. "I need you to tell me-"

A loud crack echoed up from the cellar, and all heads- Severus's included- whipped towards the sound. "What was that?" snapped Lucius, glancing around the room. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" Pointing towards his son, he commanded, "Draco- no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"

As Draco stepped from the room, as the occupants remained silent, Hermione's eyes slowly closed.

And Severus found himself pulled from the memory, facing a silently sobbing Hermione Granger.

His heart was pounding painfully in his chest. His breathing was erratic, his throat tight. He opened his mouth to say something- anything-

No words. No words could possibly make a difference against what he had just witnessed. And no words were necessary, because when she broke down before him, when she threw her hands over her face and cried out in anguish, the only thing he could think to do was to reach out and-

Before he could grab her, before he could reach out and pull her close, she flinched at his movement and looked up- and her wide, tear-brimmed eyes met his own.

Time stopped.

She looked from his face to his outstretched arms, still awkwardly hovering before her, and back to his face once more. Then, without an ounce of hesitation, Hermione threw herself into his arms, clutching him tightly as she wept.

His arms came around her as a protective force, and he exhaled deeply as he felt her trembling against him. Her head was on his shoulder, her arms around his neck, his back; fistfuls of his shirt were in her hands as she clung to him, tears soaking through to his skin. Staring into the fire, he rubbed her back soothingly, cringing against the images that would not leave his mind.

He had witnessed torture before. He had seen people break apart in half the time Hermione had held on. He had watched people descend into madness well before Hermione had lost consciousness. Somehow, impossibly, this woman in his arms had managed to deceive the most dementedly cruel death eater whilst facing immense, excruciating pain. How could he have ever underestimated her, even for a moment? As his mind revisited what he had just seen, his arms held her imperceptively closer.

Her sobs were easing, and Severus rested his cheek against her hair before relaxing his grip. When she didn't give any indication of moving, he angled his head and looked down at her. "Hermione?"

She shuddered once more before sniffing, her forehead still on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Can we... stay like this? Just for a little while longer?"

Swallowing, he tightened his arms once more. "Of course," he breathed, pulling her more properly in his lap. "For as long as you need."

I'll be here.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, cradled in Severus' arms. She had stopped crying a while ago, but still clung desperately to his shirt, her cheek pressed up against his shoulder, the pooling of tears now chilled against her skin. His hand had continued rubbing her back, up and down, soothing her; the occasional hiccups still racked through her. Her throat was raw, as if she had been screaming right alongside her memory-self. Maybe she had been. She supposed it was possible.

From her vantage point, she could see his scars. Raised and severe, they were a physical representation of trauma just as appalling, if not worse, than hers. Had he been as terrified in that moment as she had been under Bellatrix's wand? Had Nagini's bite sent the same shivering fear down his back as that damned knife did to her? How on earth did he handle it? How could he bear to look at those scars, every day, and not immediately fall apart?

Her head hurt. She was tired. And she was still in his arms.

Slowly, she raised her head. Squinting at the sharp pain in her temples, she pushed against his gently releasing arms, until she was sitting on her own once more- though, still in his lap, she quickly realized. Her face warmed, and she opened her mouth to say something, but he simply wiped away the tears still dampening her cheeks. His eyes, so close to hers, studied her intently. A small frown creased his brow. "I am so sorry," he whispered, holding her stare, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "I am so sorry you had to experience Bellatrix at her worst."

She didn't know what to say. She shrugged, her lips quirking in a sad semblance of a smile. Wiping her eyes and sniffling, she stared at the buttons on his chest when she asked quietly, "So, what's next?"

Brow raising, he released her completely, allowing her to scoot back onto her own cushion. The sense of loss outside of his arms was immense, but she fought the urge to return to them. This was not the time- not the time-

"You wish to continue with this?" he asked gently, confirming her statement rather than doubting it.

"Yes," she nodded, then grimaced against the pain in her head. Rubbing her temples, she asked, "Though, would it be possible to get a headache relief first?"

Severus stood. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Wait!"

Vaulting to her knees, she reached out and grabbed his hand before he could leave the room. He froze, and they both stared at her hand in his, eyes wide, before meeting each other's gaze.

Hermione swallowed, and fought the tears threatening to return to her eyes. "Please," she implored past a sore and swollen throat, "can't you just summon it?"

She couldn't explain the cold panic that had sluiced through her, couldn't tell him what had caused her heart to pound at the thought of him leaving her alone, but he seemed to understand without her trying to explain. Squeezing her fingers, he pulled out his wand and summoned the potions phial.

Instead of releasing her hand, Severus grasped her more firmly and helped her to her feet as he handed her the phial. "Come," he said, gesturing to the sofa. "Sit with me. I'll make tea."

On unsteady legs, Hermione stumbled over and all but fell into the deep blue cushions as he turned towards the drinks tray. As he prepared the tea, she slowly opened the headache relief and raised it to her lips. As the cool liquid slid down her throat, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the sofa, tucking her legs in under her. She was... so tired.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she startled. She hadn't heard him approach. Looking up at Severus, she smiled timidly as he handed her a teacup. "I was going to make some calming tea," he smirked, "but I suppose you need the stimulant."

Rubbing her eyes, she sat up straight and said, "I forgot how exhausting this stuff is." Sipping her drink as he sat down next to her, she faced him more fully and asked, "You never answered my question. What happens now?"

"Now," he answered, bringing his own cup to his lips, "we drink tea." After taking a sip, he added, "Afterwards, we start to discuss what happened in the memory."

In the silence that followed, when all they did was sit and drink, Hermione allowed herself a moment to breathe. She felt raw, after everything that had happened. The memory, the tears, it all wore at her until she felt no different than an exposed wound, open and vulnerable. She had to remind herself that this was worth the pain; that at the end of this, she would be able to breathe a little more freely, sleep a little bit easier.

Severus vanished his cup back to the drinks cart, and at her silent permission did the same with hers. He turned to her then, his arm slung over the back of the couch and his leg crossed, looking for all intents and purposes totally relaxed- but in his eyes, there was unease. He observed her quietly for a moment, before saying, "This won't be as terrible as you're imagining, I promise. And again, if at any point in time you decide that you're done, we'll be done. Do you have any questions beforehand?" She shook her head, and he continued, "Then let's begin."

Sitting up a bit straighter, he asked her, "When I ask you to look back on the beginning of the memory- when Bellatrix pulled you from the others- what emotions did you feel?"

"I- do you want me to imagine it?" She faced him fully, the armrest of the couch digging into her back, her legs crossed under her. He nodded.

"If it would help, and I think it would."

"Okay," she whispered. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and allowed the images to wash over her once more.

Those cruel hands in her hair; the quick slice of the knife through her bindings; her friends, still fighting, being dragged away-

"It's hard for me to think, at first. It's just pure, mind numbing terror."

"What were you terrified of?" When she frowned at him, he explained, "I know it may seem obvious, but you would be surprised at how often the answer is unexpected. Now, think carefully. What, exactly, were you terrified of?"

Closing her eyes again, she focused her attentions on that one feeling- terror- and attempted to find the source. "I think..." she started, then continued more strongly, "I was afraid of the pain. I knew what she was going to do to me, and I was scared of it. I was afraid it was going to- to break me."

"Very good." She opened her eyes, pulling herself from that moment, that emotion, when he said, "So you weren't afraid of her killing you?" She shook her head. "Only that she would break you."

She nodded. "I knew- I knew I couldn't tell her anything. And I knew it would hurt-" her voice caught in her throat, and she cleared it before continuing. "I knew it would hurt, and I didn't know how strong I was; I was terrified I wouldn't be strong enough."

Her voice was barely a whisper when she finished. Her heart was racing, and she put a hand on her chest to ease the tightness.

"Do you need a moment?" Severus asked, his voice as quiet as hers, and she shook her head. "Very well. Let's move on."

Eyeing her cautiously, he said, "After she pulled you from the others, she threatened you. What did you feel then?"

The hard floor as her knees hit it; the boots that clicked with every step, every circle she made around her; those same cruel fingers digging into her face, as the rancid breath flowed over her-

"I felt like nothing I could do would matter. I was surrounded, with no wand. I had no options; I was... helpless."

Severus slowly nodded, and she knew he understood. "Helplessness can be crippling. It is important that we don't let it define us." Pausing briefly, he asked, "Shall we continue?"

At her assent, he said, "When she cast the cruciatus, and you felt that excruciating pain, and you still kept your secrets... what were you feeling then?"

She didn't have to pause to think about it. "I was feeling desperate. I was trying to think of something- anything- that would get her to stop. I begged her, pleaded with her to let me go. But I was desperate to keep our secrets. I knew everything rested on my ability to keep quiet, to endure it, and if I died at her wand..." Pausing to take a breath, she finished, "If I died, I would know that my secret died with me; that Harry and Ron would have a fighting chance."

In the silence that followed, Hermione stared at Severus, waiting for the next question. He simply stared back, tilting his head as he studied her. Then, as if he had reached a decision, he pulled out his wand and began writing in the air before them.

Weakness. Helplessness. Desperation.

"These three emotions act as the core emotions of this particular memory," he explained. "By breaking down the scene, we were able to identify them; now, it's time to examine them." With a flick of his wand, the first word- Weakness- moved forward. "Let's begin here.

"You've told me what made you weak," he spoke as he wrote another word under it. "But what made you strong?"

As he turned the letters towards her, she stared at the new word as it floated in front of her. "Strength?" she asked, and he inclined his head. "What made me strong..."

Biting her thumbnail, she considered it. "I was afraid I would break under the torture, but I didn't. I survived it, without giving any information away. The pain-" She shook her head sharply, shaking away the phantom ache. "The pain was excruciating, exactly as I feared it would be- no, it was worse than I could have imagined. But despite all that, I let her cast that on me, I let her inflict pain upon me over and over again, and I did not break."

Something in her chest lightened at that. After months of feeling weaker than everyone, needier and incredibly high maintenance, even she was beginning to tire of herself. But no, she wasn't weak; she had faced immense pain and fear, and had come out of the other side of it without breaking. She was... She was strong.

She took a deep, sharp breath and turned away, wiping at her eyes. When she looked back at Severus, he was smiling, a little half smile that softened his eyes. "You are stronger than you know, Hermione. Anyone who thinks otherwise is blind to your truths, and I must insist you cease your interactions with them immediately."

Laughing outright, she smiled back. His eyes crinkled in response.

Without saying anything, he banished the word Weakness, but moved Strength in its place. Pulling forth the second in the row- Helplessness- he asked her, "Were you truly helpless? Or were you undervaluing your greatest asset?"

"My greatest- what?"

Perplexed, she watched as he wrote out another word, and flung it over to hover before her- Wit.

When she only stared at him, he smirked. "You felt helpless because you were surrounded and outnumbered without a wand. But you didn't give up. What did you do instead of spilling your secrets?"

"I-" When the answer struck her, she stared wide-eyed at Severus. "I lied. I thought up a plausible lie, and I fed that to her instead."

He inclined his head, his smile growing. "Your wand is not your only weapon. As long as you have your wits about you, you are never helpless."

"But it didn't make a difference," she argued.

"Did it not? Because from where I was standing, it made a tremendous difference." Leaning forward, he told her, "You lied to Bellatrix- you told her the sword was fake. Two important things came from that; first and most immediately, it gave you a bit of a reprieve in your suffering. But second, and most importantly, your lie threw Bellatrix off your scent. She had no reason to fear that her vault had been broken into. And," he smirked, "you saved my arse as well. Had the Dark Lord found out I stole the original sword, well... I certainly wouldn't be here now."

"But if Griphook hadn't lied-"

"From my understanding, it wasn't long after that before Potter and Weasley came up to rescue you. Am I correct?" She nodded, and he continued, "You delayed long enough for them to find their usefulness again. If Griphook had told the truth, you were still only moments from an interference."

When she still didn't look convinced, he sighed. "Hermione, I am well aware of the fact that I spent years scorning you, trying to convince you that you were not as smart as you thought you were, so this may mean nothing to you coming from me, but..." His hand reached out, his fingers gently pushing her chin up so she would meet his eyes. "I'm telling you now, that I have never been more wrong about something in my life. And I'm including this."

He gestured to his left forearm, and she stared, as if she could see the dark mark peering through the stark white fabric of his shirt. Pushing her chin up once more, he added, "At least the mark made me useful. Doubting you only made me a fool."

"You, a fool?" She laughed, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. He chuckled in response.

"It happens more often than you would think." Dropping his hand, he sat back and raised his wand. In an instant, Helplessness was replaced by Wit, gliding next to the word Strength.

Finally, Severus pulled forth the last word: Desperation. "You were desperate to keep your secrets. You were even willing to die to ensure it. How would you describe your success in such an endeavor?"

He's certainly not holding my hand through this. Frowning as she considered his question, she thought out loud, "Well, I certainly succeeded. I survived, and the secrets remained safe. I was determined to see it through, and my resolve held firm."

Picking up his wand, he wrote the last word under Desperation. "Against all odds..." He pushed the final word towards her.

Perseverance.

Finishing his sentence, she whispered, "I persevered."

His wand flicked, and all three words hovered before her.

Strength

Wit

Perseverance

"These three words define who you were in that moment," Severus was saying. "These three words are going to replace your old emotions when we revisit the memory. When you think back on what happened, you will still remember the terror and the pain, but you will also remember exactly how you survived it: by relying on yourself. You were strong, you kept your wits about you, and you persevered."

Standing, he offered her a hand and helped her off the couch. "Are you ready to go back in?"

Twenty minutes later, after another round of meditation, after carefully locking every hint of weakness, helplessness and desperation behind her shield, Hermione once again told Severus that she was ready. And once again, Severus held up his wand.

"Legilimens."

Memories flew past as she gained her bearings, but with Severus' help she was able to pull up the scene and hold it in place. That was what he was for her this time around; an anchor. Keeping her focus on this and this alone, so that she could focus on what she had to do.

Pushing her emotions behind a barrier did not protect her from the wave of terror that washed over her upon revisiting that purple-walled room, and she had to put all her attention on breathing while she gained her bearings. The scene was more condensed this time around, and already Bellatrix was giving the orders to separate her from the group. Her heart skipped a beat as Ron was struck across the face, and she concentrated, preparing for the first emotional test.

There- Bellatrix had cut her free. I am strong, she told herself, repeating it as the fear rose, as her heart beat faster. I am strong. I survive this. It hurts, it's terrifying, and I survive it. Because I'm strong.

The more she repeated the words, the easier it was to see, watching it all happen before her. Being dragged to the center of the room, watching as her friends left her behind- it didn't matter what had happened, because she had survived.

But then Bellatrix threw her to the ground, and began circling her, and she flinched as the first curse was cast.

It was harder to remember what she was doing, as she watched herself flail on the ground, screaming in an agony she could remember in excruciating detail. She kept repeating the words, kept assuring herself that she was strong, that she survived, but it wasn't until she heard herself say "It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" did she remember that she wasn't just strong, she was intelligent, too. I kept my wits about me, she told herself, urging herself to believe it. I lied to her face, as she was torturing me. I outsmarted her when I was at my lowest, and survived.

The words repeated in her head, like a personal mantra- I am strong. I am intelligent. I survived. Over and over again, she told herself this, until finally Griphook was there, and she was laying silently on the ground as Bellatrix threatened him instead. I did it, she told herself, and she knew she believed it. I persevered. Against all odds, I persevered. Because I am strong, and intelligent. I survived.

The memory faded.

And she was back in Severus' living room, sitting across from him.

Beaming.

Severus sank onto his mattress with a long, drawn-out groan. He had sent Hermione up to bed ages ago, yet he had continued to postpone his own rest. His body ached with fatigue, his mind was foggy with the need for sleep, but he wasn't ready to give in- not just yet.

There was a chance that tonight would have done more harm than good. He didn't anticipate it; he had full faith that Hermione had been able to properly conquer her trauma this evening. But if their endeavor opened the wound and failed to then seal it sufficiently, she could be victim to another night terror, worse than before- blanket be damned. And he would be damned to let her go through that alone.

If he was lucky, he would avoid his own nightmares about the event. The image of her splayed on the ground was embedded in his eyelids; her screams still tore through his skull. What he wouldn't give to resurrect Bellatrix, if only so that he could take her out himself. Slowly. Violently.

He didn't need the cruciatus to make someone wish for death.

Oh, he would make her scream, just so he could offer the sound to Hermione on a silver platter.

Well, this line of thought isn't going to help the nightmares, either. Sighing, he stood, and- finally giving in- he started to prepare for bed.

After only a moment of contemplation, Severus walked over to his bedroom door and cracked it open. If something were to happen, he didn't want the door to muffle it. This way, he could sleep a little easier.

If only he could get rid of these images.