Author's Notes:
This is the last Hermione POV chapter, as the boys are getting close to find her location.
So, please be aware of the Trigger Warnings for the following: Graphic Violence, Depiction of a Killing, Assault and Torture.
Secondly, many thanks to luunascope for not only being brave enough to proofread the chapter, but also helping me figuring out what was bugging me!
And of course many thanks to those who are patient enough to listen to my ramblings and doubts! I love you all! :-*
Chapter 15 – Sharp Claws and Burning Skin
This time, Hermione was the one waiting for her opponent to arrive in the fight pit, amidst the deafening noise of the audience cheering and clapping whenever she looked up without seeing anything specific. She had been requested specifically to fight tonight for some guest of honour, despite still recovering from her last combat that was barely a week ago. Her body ached everywhere. And she was exhausted to the bone.
The Hungarian had been specific about tonight's fight when he had visited her the day before—she was only supposed to knock her opponent unconscious, not kill him. He said it was going to be a great spectacle, a fight against an opponent he had called his pet. Hermione still had no idea what was coming through the doors every moment now; she just hoped it would be a short fight for both their sakes.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome a specially requested fighter for tonight's main fight! Tonight, the Vicious Harpy will fight against the famous Claw–"
The cheering from the attending audience above completely drowned the rest of the announcement, but Hermione understood that she wasn't the favourite tonight. She was close to vomiting now, as the noise as well as the stench of blood and sweat in the magically expanded pit were overwhelming her senses; her stomach was already clenching, and she had to swallow hard several times to keep the control.
"May I present The Claw!"
The entrance to the pit was finally opened, and Hermione stiffened, apprehensive of her opponent. To her surprise, a barely clad man walked in. His body was strewn with scars from other fights, and he was slightly limping. She didn't think he was scary until she saw what kind of creature he turned into.
A man-sized golden eagle.
She was supposed to fight an eagle, to knock him unconscious.
She was fucked.
Still trying to assess the situation, Hermione ducked away from the first attack of her opponent; his sharp claws only barely missed her shoulders. There was no way she could win this fight with only her physical strength; she would have to resort to other measures this time as well.
Her opponent was fluttering just above her, sizing her up. His sheer size made her feel helpless for a moment. Even a normal-sized eagle had impressive claws and beak, but this one was just... yes, scary—the sheer size of it. But he looked like he was challenging her to come up in the air as well.
He was asking her to fly, to fight him in the air.
She was fucked.
In all those years of trying to control her creature, to keep it hidden from everyone else, she had never before attempted to actually fly. She'd rather fight him on the ground, but he didn't look like he was doing her the favour.
Flying scared her—it meant she had to give her creature more control over her body than she wanted to. It was raging inside her; her skin was crawling with its insistence to take over. It was thirsting for blood, for another kill. Seeing no other option, Hermione closed her eyes momentarily and let go of her mental barriers, giving her creature free reign over her body.
Moments later, and to the audience's astonishment, she was in the air, screeching loudly before attacking the eagle for the first time. She went straight for his underside with the talons on her feet, hoping to hit him severely enough.
However, he caught her before she could do any damage, his claws locking with hers. He was forcing her into a downward spiral.
Hermione wasn't having any of that; she wasn't an eagle, she was a goddamn harpy—and they fought dirty. With her free foot, she kicked him as hard as she could while she reached for his neck with her winged arms.
The eagle screeched in pain when she drove the talons into his shoulders, causing them to fall freely for a moment. He let go of her to catch himself, and she landed on the ground to catch her breath.
What was the weak spot of any bird? The wings? Hermione had to figure it out soon if she wanted to stay alive.
They played the spiralling game for several rounds, with her attacking his shoulders each time, causing more and more damage while he used his claws to attack her legs. His feathers were already showing the first signs of him bleeding out of several wounds; her legs look no better, but it was mostly scratches. The sight of blood only made Hermione's harpy more aggressive, its thirst pounding hard in her veins, driving out all other thoughts. She had to bring it down, no matter how.
She almost did it after another round of spiralling and screeched in angry disappointment when the golden eagle managed to avoid a hard landing. There had to be another way to bring him down! That was the moment when Hermione regained some of the control over her body. Violence alone wouldn't help them survive.
"Stupefy!"The crowd above gasped loudly at her use of magic, followed by whistles and jeering, as the fighters usually couldn't do magic without any wand or similar. And she didn't even hit him with her first attempt, enraging her own creature to the point of having to struggle to keep her control for another attempt.
The eagle screeched, an angry dare to join him again for another round.
Hermione lost the struggle, and the harpy took over once more. She immediately joined the eagle in the air, locking her claws with his for another round of spiralling down. Mid-air, Hermione regained control once more, aiming at the eagle while still twirling downwards. This time, the Stunning Spell hit the eagle full force. They landed rather roughly on the ground, as he was momentarily stunned, but not knocked unconscious.
Shaking his head, the eagle made it back on his feet, staring at her in outrage. It seemed that he never had to deal with an opponent able to use wandless magic before. With a screech, he attacked her with his claws.
Panting heavily, she stepped backwards to get out of his reach. Now that he was on the ground, how could she knock him out? Her creature was screaming for a kill, its rage still throbbing loudly in her head. But instead of giving in, she repeated the Stunning Spell, aiming for the eagle's chest.
He was knocked back into the next wall, but as enraged as he was, he immediately got back up and chased after her. Whenever she hit him with another Stupefy, he chased her harder through the pit.
The pursuit was wearing them both down until her last Stupefy aimed at the eagle finally did what it was supposed to do—knock him out.
But the knock-out didn't feel like a win to Hermione. Still breathing heavily, she watched his form change back into the man he actually was. Her head pounding from the adrenaline still cruising through her body, she kneeled down beside him.
He looked broken. Like an empty shell of his former self. She remembered what The Hungarian had said—she would fight against his pet. A shiver ran down her spine when she pictured what that would entail... If his treatment of her—his threat to break her—was any indication of what he was capable of, then this man was better off dead.
The audience was cheering in the ranks above, but she didn't pay them any attention. Instead, she placed the tips of her talons on his chest. He was going to haunt her for the rest of her life, but she had to do this. She simply had to.
"I'm sorry," she whispered and drove her talons right into his heart.
..
When Hermione woke up next, she found herself in the office of The Hungarian, not her cell with a pot of Healing Potion on the table. She was lying on the floor, and her body felt stiff from overexertion while a headache was threatening at the back of her head. Based on the boots she could see from her vantage point without moving, there were at least three guards around her.
They were waiting for her to wake up.
In the back, she could hear foreign words being muttered, sounding angry, following steps that paced from one side of the room to the other and back. This wasn't over yet.
"Prod her again," The Hungarian said, pausing momentarily in his pacing.
Hermione let out a small pained yelp when one of the guards prodded her with his wand. They had heard her, because next thing, she was roughly pulled up; she winced when she got to stand on her feet: her legs almost gave in, too weak from the fight.
"Do you think this is a game?" The Hungarian came over to her, again muttering in his language, probably even cursing her. "You were instructed to knock him unconscious!"
"What's he to you? He was a human being, not a pet," she retorted but regretted her words as soon as she had said them. The guard holding her arm tight turned it on her back while another pulled her hair, his wand pointed at her neck.
"Your obstinacy is disgusting, filthy bird..."
"I survived a war." Her words came out with a gurgling noise, as her head was forced back, and the wand wasn't helping either. "Sometimes, death was more merciful than living."
"Killing a Turul is a sacrilege!" The Hungarian shouted at her. "You will be punished!"
The guard gripping her hair roughly pulled at it, and she cried out in pain. May the punishment be dished out—she was ready for it. No one could ever beat what Bellatrix had done to her all those years ago. No Punishment Curse, no assault, nothing. And death was by now better than living in this hell.
Her head still pulled back by the guard, the Hungarian reached for her throat. "You have no idea how long it took me to track such a creature down—who could turn into the mythical bird of my country."
"A golden eagle–" The rest of her words choked in her throat when he tightened his grip around her neck.
"A Turul is no ordinary eagle," he spat. "But what do you understand?"
Letting go of her neck, he traced his fingers down her collarbone, brushing over one of her many cuts, further down into dangerous territory. "I wonder whether your skin remains as soft when I'm through with you..."
Closing her eyes, Hermione willed herself to remain still, even though her mind followed the trace of his fingers along her collarbone and shoulder, pulling the strap of her top she had been provided with further down; it had been torn in places. Her creature was screaming for control, protesting against the treatment. It took all her mental strength to keep the control, yet she could still feel the anger throb in her veins, and the skin crawl with her creature's wish to get to the surface. Maybe they would kill her then?
"I want to hear you scream," he whispered, a creepy appreciative tone to his voice.
Hermione expected to be hit with the Punishment Curse, so it didn't take her by complete surprise. Yet, the pain seared through her body like a bolt of electricity searching for an outlet—her muscles tensed up, and her brain felt like it was being fried. But she didn't scream.
"Again," The Hungarian ordered when she was released from the Curse, only standing because the guards kept her up. "I will hear you scream tonight because my pets do as I say. Understand, my filthy little bird?"
Hermione's answer was lost in a gurgle when the next Curse hit her. This time, the intense pain overran everything else. For a moment, nothing else existed inside her, only pain. When it receded, she returned to a completely tensed body, her jaws clenching hard, and her hands digging into whatever they had been able to grab.
Someone was screaming, but it wasn't her.
The screaming stopped moments later when one of the guards grabbed her other hand to pull it on her back.
Wiggling her hand to get out of the tight grip, she realised that her talons had reappeared. She must have pushed them into one of the guards who were holding her when the pain from the Curse had taken over; she could feel blood on it.
"Let go of her, you idiots! Looks like I need to do this myself..."
Fearing the anger audible in The Hungarian's voice, all three guards let go of her and took a step back; one of them was pressing a hand against an open wound to stop the bleeding.
Hermione swayed dangerously without the guards holding her up. In addition, she was on the brink of falling unconscious again, as the fight and the Punishment Curse were taking their toll on her. The next one would definitely knock her out...
"Leave."
The guards left without another word, but they all either threw a dirty glance at Hermione or pushed into her, causing her to lose balance.
She caught herself just moments before she would have landed on the floor. Her body was burning, and all she wanted was to lie down and let unconsciousness take over until this nightmare ended. However, now that she was alone, she knew that The Hungarian wouldn't hold back any longer. The worst was yet to come.
A dangerous glint in his eyes, The Hungarian played with his wand. "This time, you will learn the lesson, filthy bird. And you will scream for me..."
"You like to inflict pain," she replied, coughing as her throat felt hot and dry. She was sure that he got a sadistic satisfaction from torturing others. And she was his new plaything, his new pet to replace the one she just killed.
"It's not about the pain." He stepped closer, the glint in his eyes only growing more dangerous; he was now only inches away from her. "It's about showing who's the master here, don't you get it?"
"Don't you dare touch me," she said, holding his gaze while she pushed away the wand that he had pressed into the skin on her stomach. However, a shiver ran down her spine when she saw the dangerously dark glint in his eyes. "You're not my master–"
"You're my pet, and you will do as I say." His order ended in a growl before he aimed his wand at her hands.
"Let me go!" she cried out when her hands were tied behind her back, leaving her defenceless.
"Scream for me!"
And she was hit with another Curse. She was almost welcoming the pain, as it drove out everything else, slowly becoming an old acquaintance.
She was on the floor when the pain stopped, panting heavily and struggling to cling to her consciousness. "I see, you're getting used to the Curse." His words sounded disappointed as he levitated her back into a standing position, not caring that she swayed dangerously.
She winced as her scarred leg hurt whenever she put her weight on it to keep her balance. "I've survived worse."
"They all say that," he replied, tilting her chin up with his wand so that she was forced to look at him. "You're even more stubborn than my last pet..."
"I'm not a pet, I'm a human being." Despite the scarily sadistic look in his eyes, she didn't back down from his gaze. Meanwhile, she tried to loosen the tight grip of the Incarcerous on her wrists, but to no avail—the spell wasn't the same as a simple rope.
"How many times do I have to repeat it? You're just a filthy Creature, a useless filthy bird."
"Why don't you just kill me if you find me useless?" His words were bringing her Creature to the boiling point, and her mental barrier was wearing thin from the exertion and repeated use of the Curse—she could feel her skin crawl with the threat of transforming into the Creature form.
"Where's the fun in that, little bird?" Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back. "You killed my old pet, and I like to play..."
"You have lost your mind."
"I have something else that you might like. A spell I haven't used in a while..." With that, he aimed his wand at her with a malicious smirk before he murmured an unknown incantation.
She was knocked backwards, feeling as if she was set on fire, burning alive. If the Curse was an all-consuming pain whenever she was hit with it, then this new spell was a whole new level.
When the pain finally stopped, she heard someone scream. Only when she fully regained consciousness, she realised it was her screaming her lungs out.
"Your friends will never find you, my little bird; you're all mine."
"I belong to no one." She pressed those words out while panting heavily; her skin was still prickling painfully from the burning sensation. "And my friends will find me..."
"They don't even know in which pit I keep you," he replied with a spiteful laugh. With a wave of his wand, he brought her back into a standing position; however, he had to repeat it as she was unable to keep upright on her own. "Although, one of them was clever enough to enter one undercover, but that's as close as they will get. We have our means to distract them. You are mine."
They were coming for her! They haven't given up!
With an odd sense of relief, Hermione clung to those words because they gave her new hope of making it out of this hell alive. When the next cast spell hit her, she welcomed the unconsciousness with open arms, letting herself fall into the darkness, not caring whether she screamed again or not.
They were coming for her! She wasn't lost!