Hermione feels the wind being sucked out of her as the Snatcher holding her disapparates. Her scull knocks and her teeth chatter and she feels like she's going to be sick.
Her feet slam on black-tile floor and she knows they're in the Malfoy Manor.
Chapter Four
The Manor is cold and dark. The light seems green and it makes Hermione sick to have her eyes open. There are people here, most she doesn't recognize or ones she can't place.
Someone yanks her by the hair and she yelps, hearing the strands crack at the force. They drag her next to Ron and hold her there. The Snatcher, Scabior, shoves Harry in front of them, his face still swollen and puffy.
Suddenly he's there. Draco Malfoy stands before them, more pale and thin than Hermione has ever seen him, and he looks scared and out of place. Hermione feels like weeping. He's there, so close, yet she can't touch him. She can't take him away. She can't save him. He refuses to look at her, staring only at Harry, but she knows if he would so much as glance her way she would brake.
"Is it him?" the person holding Hermione growls and she recognizes Fenrir Greyback's rough voice.
Draco's eyes dart over Harry. "I-I can't be sure." His voice is like sandpaper.
"Draco," his father coos, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Look closely. Make no mistake."
Draco stiffens at his touch and his eyes shoot to the floor. He knows it's Harry. He doesn't need to look.
"Of course it's him!" yells a shrill voice. Bellatrix Lestrange waltzes into view. Her hair is piled high in black curls, reflecting her mad nature within. Her striking eyes glide over Hermione and Ron. "These are his little sidekicks: the Blood Traitor and the Mudblood!" she spits.
Hermione's blood runs cold as she stares straight ahead. There is a clatter behind her and she knows they're rifling through her bag. The sound of a page ripping splits the air and Hermione chokes at her books being torn.
"We have to be sure it's him," the Snatcher holding Ron says.
"Draco?" Lucius whispers.
"I-" he's cut short by a clamour behind Hermione.
Bellatrix's face twists. She flies toward the sound, shrieking, "Where did you get that?!"
"Found it in this here bag," a voice says. "Reckon it's mine now."
Bellatrix screams. flashes of light reflect off the walls Hermione is facing. There is a sound, like a whip cracking, and the Snatchers tumble to the ground, stunned.
Hermione feels another yank on her hair, harder this time, and she can't help but whimper quietly at her sore scalp. Her head is forced around and Bellatrix's wild eyes are inches from her face. Her heart speeds up and she forces herself not to cry.
"Where did you get this?!" Bellatrix demands, her voice full of rage.
The sword of Gryffindor swoops in front of her face, making her flinch.
"We found it!" she cries out.
"LIAR!"
Slap.
Hermione's cheek stings and flashes angry red. Her eyes pool and she tries not to blink, least the tears fall.
"Take them to the cellar!" Bellatrix demands. She grabs the front of Hermione's shirt and slams her back against a wall. "I want to have a talk with this one!"
Hermione's throat goes try, feeling like she's swallowing sand. Her eyes are blurred from tears, but she can make out Harry and Ron yelling and struggling as they're being pulled away. There is ice in her chest. Her teeth begin to ache. Blinking, she searches for Draco but cannot find his face in the group of Death Eaters watching her shake.
Bellatrix's face is right in front of her's again. The Death Eater's hot breath suffocates her and she tries to pull away, but the wall keeps her still.
"I'm going to ask you nicely one more time," Bellatrix whispers threateningly. "Were. Did. You. Get. THE SWORD!"
Hermione gasps. Tears pour freely down her face and she can't turn away, she can't hide herself. "Please!" she begs. "We found it!"
"YOU ARE LYING!"
Bellatrix's hand connects with her face again, but she quickly backs away and Hermione is able to bring a hand to her bruised cheek.
No one says a word. No one makes a move. The Death Eaters watch in silence as Bellatrix draws her wand again and points it at the weeping girl.
"Crucio!"
Hermione's knees buckle. She falls to a ball on the stone floor, writhing in pain. Her fingers shake as they grasp her shirt. It feels hot. All her clothes are on fire, burning her hair, singeing her skin, melting her shoes to her feet. fumbling with the fabric, her fingernails peel and her hands are forced into fists. A scream bubbles up her throat and forces past her teeth. And the pain is gone. As quick as it came, it is lifted, leaving her drained on the floor. Her chest heaves rapidly and she can't pull herself from the ground.
Bellatrix grabs her face between her sharp nails, forcing Hermione to look at her. "What else did you take?!"
Hermione sobs. "I don't know what you're talking about," she whispers, unable to talk any louder.
"You lying bitch! You Mudblood flith! I know you were in my vault! What else did you take? CRUCIO!"
Hermione is again caught off guard. Screaming, she twists, trying to avoid the hundreds of needles that are now puncturing every inch of her skin. She can't take it. Her back arches involuntarily, contorting her spine.
It ceases, but she cannot breath. Gasping on the floor, she lolls her head to the side, eyelids like lead, her face on fire and beet red. Once again she looks for Draco in the crowd of sneering faces. She sees him standing in the back. His face is pale and he looks sick. Her fingers extend toward him and she sobs.
Draco can remember hurting when he's looked at her before. Sometimes he'd glance at her out of the corner of his eye in class or across the Great Hall and something under his ribcage would ache and his chest would get tight, and, if he wasn't careful, he'd forget to breathe. And it would hurt his head because this had never happened to him before. He'd never looked at Hermione before then and felt like something was pushing on his heart.
It hurt him like crazy until he figured it out, and after that it hurt even more because he wasn't supposed to feel like that. He wasn't supposed to see her as anything more than dirt beneath his feet. But he was. He was seeing her as the world. And he couldn't tell if she was feeling the same thing. He couldn't tell if she ever even thought about him the way he had started thinking about her. It felt like dying when he saw her laughing and he thought he could never make her smile like that. Because he wasn't allowed to.
But watching her now, that hurts worse. Because now he can tell she's hurting and he knows it's his fault, but he can't do anything to stop it. He can't do anything to save her. He isn't allowed to.
But now he's thinking that he doesn't really care what everyone else thinks any more.
Bellatrix's heals click on the floor as she walks back and forth, watching Hermione below her. Her long, bony fingers caress her wand and she can feel it vibrate, ready to strike again.
"I know you took that sword from my vault!" she tells Hermione. "What else did you take?!" Her eyes flash in anger, wand poised.
Hermione gasps for breath. Her tongue feels ten times too big and her throat ten times too small. "We didn't take it from your vault," she chokes out. "It's not even real."
Bellatrix sneers, her hair is bristling. Hermione can feel her anger like electricity in the air. She whips around to face the group of Death Eaters. "Someone get that damn Goblin."
There is a shuffle as the group decides who should go. Someone says, "Draco." and the youngest Death Eater steps toward the stairs. Hermione feels him leave. All her friends have left the room. All her hope. It feels like a vacuum. A great pressure pushing down on her temples.
The murderous witch leans over her again, coming nose to nose. She whispers quietly, so that Hermione can only barely hear her, but it's enough to turn her blood to ice. "If you are lying I will take this knife and run it from your belly to your jaw." She holds a knife to Hermione's face, long and slender and sharp. Hermione quivers as she moves it gently over her cheek.
Something rattles and Bellatrix stands up. The Gringotts Goblin, Griphook is brought forward in thick chains around his wrists and ankles and a nasty cut stands bright red on his cheek. He's thinner and paler than a Goblin should be and looks like he hasn't slept for awhile now. Draco leaves the Goblin's side and walks swiftly past Hermione, his face pointed at the ground the whole way, but she can see his jaw quiver. Griphook glances at Hermione, and for a moment, he nods slightly in her direction.
Greyback holds out the sword to Bellatrix, it glinting as she takes it from him and thrusts it into the hands of Griphook. He turns it over, runs his knotted fingers over the blade like it's a precious jewel, traces the patterns on the handle, balances its weight in his palms. The chains clink against it as he repeats this over and over again. Hermione can tell he is biding his time and she thanks him silently for it.
"Well?" Bellatrix snaps.
The Goblin sighs and gently sets the tip of the sword toward the ground. "It is a fake."
Bellatrix's face contorts. "You are lying!" she shrieks through clenched teeth. "You're all lying!" She flashes her wand at the Goblin. "Crucio." And he falls to the floor, shaking in fits. The sword clatters next to him, but Bellatrix swoops to pick it up. "Take him downstairs!"
Another Death Eater roughly grabs Griphook by the arm and drags him toward the dark doorway to the basement. The other Death Eaters mummer quietly and Hermione notices that some have left the room with the stunned Snatchers. It's a small group now, only five or six watch on. Draco stands in the back, slightly behind his mother and father, and for the first time, he looks in her eyes and she can see that this is killing him. He's about the break.
It isn't long, however, before Hermione's attention is forced back to Bellatrix. The witch looks devilish. Her eyes are dark with rage, a cruel and crooked smile plays on her thin lips. She raises her wand toward the girl and Hermione hugs her knees to her chest in anticipation of the next strike.
"Crucio."
She expects the stinging pain of needles or burning sensation of fire, but this time is different. Although her eyes are open, her vision goes black. Her chest caves, her lungs harden, her skin feels like its being stretched thin over her bones, and she can't breathe. Flailing her limbs, she tries to take breath. She pulls at her face, bites her own fingers, claws her own skin, but her lungs refuse to take in air. The world is dark to her. It is without light or breath or speech. Swallowing, thrashing, beating the floor with her fists, it doesn't help. And then, suddenly air is there, whooshing through her lungs, but burning in her throat. Her skin stings as it continues to stretch and she screams and cries. She begs for it to stop. Soon, her voice has stopped and she can only moan and cry as the curse continues to rip through her body. In one last struggle, on the brink of blacking out, she finds her voice and calls out.
"Draco!"
The pain stops. The black dots before her eyes disappear and she lays heaving, tears streaming down her face. It is bliss, but it is short lived. Bellatrix is on her once again. She slaps her face, hard.
"How dare you say his name!" Bellatrix yells and slaps her again. Hermione cries out, but can't lift her arms to shield her face. "Your Mudblood tongue is not worthy of speaking your superior's name!" Her hand come back to hit her again, but she's cut short.
"Stop!"
All eyes in the room turn to the back wall. Draco is there, pale and trembling. His fist are in balls, his teeth tightly clenched. He looks furious and scared to death at the same time.
Hermione weeps harder for him.
"What's the matter, Draco? Do you want a turn?" Bellatrix asks him like she's talking to a child. "Come on then." She stands up and ushers him forward.
Draco stands still, brow low, jaw set.
"Draco?" his father puts a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes him forward, but he refuses to move.
"If you're not going to then, I guess I'll resume?" Bellatrix tests him. Her eyes are narrow and words like ice. She pulls her hand back again, ready to strike. Hermione flinches, brining her hand to her face.
"Do not touch her," Draco says through grit teeth. His wand is out now, held in front of him, but low like he's unsure. "Do not touch her," he repeats.
"Draco?" his mother warns questioningly, but he refuses to stand down, wand pointed a bit higher with his gaining confidence.
"What's the matter, Draco?" his aunt asks. "She's just a Mudblood!" She cackles and the sound of a slap rings around the room as she strikes the broken girl.
"Stupify!" Draco throws at her, but she blocks the spell easily, shock on her face.
"Draco, what are you doing?" his father asks him and he tries to hold back his son.
Draco yanks him off his arm and takes a few paces closer. Rage is on both the nephew and aunt's face. A fire is burning in both their bellies.
"Try that again, you little brat!" she yells, and he does, casting non-verbally at her chest.
She isn't expecting it. Her wand comes up, but too late. Falling backward, her head cracks on the ground.
Draco doesn't wait. There are shouts of anger echoing all around the room, bouncing off the walls so he can't tell who or where they are coming from. Blood pumping in his ears, he runs out of the room to the basement.
Limbs shaking, Hermione struggles to sit up. Her vision is blurred and even goes black for a moment. There are shapes moving around the room, things being shouted that she can't understand. Her head spins. There are familiar voices yelling spells and others yelling curses.
She hears the shrill voice of Bellatrix screaming, "Get them! That is Harry Potter! Get them! Call the Dark Lord!"
Her vision focuses as Draco's face moves in front of hers. He's crying and he doesn't have his wand any more, but he grips her face and forces her to look at him under heavy lids. Trembling, her fingers brush his cheek and she suddenly feels so alive. She struggles to grip him tighter, but her fingers won't move.
Someone grabs Draco from behind; a Death Eater, and yanks him away.
He scrambles for her hands, shouting, "Hermione!" as he is dragged.
Something sharp grips her hair and forces her to her feet. She screams for him as her scalp is torn and Bellatrix's knife presses to her throat. "Stop them!" yells the sharp voice next to her ear.
Hermione can see Harry and Ron. They are back to back, stolen wands cast spell after spell to keep the Death Eaters away. There's too many of them. They're pressing in. Dobby the House Elf is doing his best between their feet.
"Dobby!" Harry yells. "Get Hermione!"
The House Elf looks in her direction and cowers back, dodging a curse. He uses his magic to push back a Death Eater close by and he makes a run straight for Hermione and Bellatrix. However, he is cut short. Heavy black smoke begins to swirl in his way and he stumbles backward. It makes a sucking noise like a tornado and there is a wind in the manor, whipping Hermione's hair against her cheeks. Bellatrix shrieks in glee and a look of pure terror crosses Harry's face. Grabbing Dobby's arm, he gives a fleeting look at Hermione, regret and apology in his eyes, and disappears into a swirling ball of light with Dobby and Ron. And they are gone. They have left her.
The black smoke in the room becomes thicker until it starts to become a solid shape. The Death Eaters cower against the wall. Bellatrix, screams in fury at Harry, Ron, and Dobby's disappearance. The knife on Hermione's throat presses deeper, breaking skin. A thick trickle of blood seeps down her neck. The smoke subsides and Lord Voldemort stands with the night as the cloak on his shoulders in the middle of the room.
Silence falls thickly. Heads bow low, not looking him in the eye. He breaths deeply through his snake-like nose and takes in the room with his slitted eyes. The thin pupils rest momentarily on Hermione, then moves on to look at each and every Death Eater.
"So?" he says calmly and not in the way Hermione thinks he should sound. "Where is he?"
No one answers.
"Surely you have him? Why else would you call me here if not for having captured Harry Potter?"
Hermione swallows hard against the blade. She cries silently and tremors.
"No?" Voldemort asks them. "You don't have him?"
"My Lord," a Death Eater with long black hair dares to say. "We did have him!"
Voldemort looks at who has spoken and moves closer, almost like a snake stalking its prey. "You had him?" he asks. "Then were is he now?"
The Death Eater trembles. "He-he got away, my Lord."
"I see." Voldemort backs away, still eerily calm and smooth. "Lucius?" he says as he moves to him.
Lucius stiffens up, swallowing hard. "Y-yes, my Lord?"
"May I barrow the wand you are carrying?"
Shaking, Lucius presents his wand and Voldemort takes it delicately between his long and sickly fingers. He points it lazily at the black-haired Death Eater and mutters, "Avada Kerdava." Flicking it lazily.
Hermione squeezes her eyes shut as the body falls limply to the ground with a dull thud.
"Do you see this?" Hermione hears Voldemort ask the group. "Such a valuable Death Eater had to die because you cannot preform one simple task. I ask you to find Harry Potter. I ask you to keep him until I'm here. Is that really too hard? Is it?"
There are murmurs of "No, my Lord" around the room.
"It seems that it is. Perhaps I didn't teach you well enough. Perhaps you all need another lesson. Do you?"
Again, "No, my Lord" is murmured from every direction.
The tension in the room makes the hairs on Hermione's arms stand.
"Then track him down!"
There is the sound of many whips cracking as the Death Eaters apparate from the room. Again, there is silence. Hermione squeezes her eyes tight, feeling the moisture seeping through her lashes. She prays. She prays hard that when her eyes open she'll be with Harry and Ron, wherever they are, and that she hadn't been left behind.
"What is this?" Voldemort's voice is closer.
Shivers boil on Hermione's arms as she feels him looking her over. Bellatrix's hand adjusts in her hair, yanking her head back father to expose her neck more, to make her more vulnerable.
"It is Potter's Mudblood sidekick, my Dark Lord," Bellatrix says.
Hermione feels his presence directly in front of her, inches away. The air is thick and hard to breathe and her neck is starting to ache.
"Why is she not with Potter?
"We were having a bit of fun right before Potter got away. She was close to me and I grabbed her, my Lord."
"Fun?" Voldemort asked. "What for? Enjoyment, information, or both?"
"Both, my Lord. The sword of Griffindor was in her bag. I know she's been in my vault, but she won't tell me what else she took!"
If Hermione would have had her eyes open she would have seen the fear flash in Voldemort's eyes for a short moment.
"Send someone to check it right away," he tells Bellatrix.
"Yes, my Lord."
"How did the boy escape? Did you not have him in chains or were you too foolish for that?"
"My Lord, we had him and his posy locked in the basement. It was Draco Malfoy who let them out!" She spits Draco's name like it is bile in her throat.
"The Malfoy boy?" Voldemort sounds surprised.
"Yes, my Lord. He hit me with a curse when I slapped the Mudblood. He must have opened the door then." Bellatrix's voice is no longer the screeching authoritative one it was minutes ago. It is reverent and lowly to Voldemort.
"He defended the Mudblood?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Then he- Where is he? Did he get away, too?"
"No, my Lord. Jugson took him to the dungeons."
"Bring him to me."
"Yes, my Lord. And of the Mudblood? Can I kill her?"
"No." Voldemort's voice is very close to Hermione's face. "Take her to the dungeons as well. If she is alive, the Potter boy will come back for her."
"Yes, my Lord," she sounds upset.
Hermione's bruised scalp is yanked again and she is being dragged from the room. Her hands go to her head, trying to lessen the pain. Bellatrix drags her down corridors and steps, the rooms, becoming darker and darker the farther down they go. The air becomes moist and cold, smelling stale. They reach a long, black-stoned corridor at the bottom of the steps. One candle every few doorway is flickering, but the darkness seems to swallow all the light. Bellatrix reaches for her wand and casts Lumos, but even that is suffocated only feet before them.
There are cells on each side of the hallway, blocked by thick metal bars. They look like black holes where no light could ever reach. They pass these cells to reach a large room at the end of the hall. It has two barred doors to the left and right and the air is frigid. Hermione is pulled through the right door and can see the rest of the room is about twenty feet in length, but narrow. Chains and cuffs cover the walls like drapes. On the opposite side of the room is Draco. He is chained to the wall, slouched over on the floor. He looks up as they enter and his eyes grow wide.
"Hermione!" He pulls on the chains, reaching for her.
"Draco!" She fights against Bellatrix, earning another ear-splitting smack across the face.
Bellatrix throws her to the floor, pointing her wand at the chains that quickly cuff themselves to Hermione's arm. Hermione shakes and pulls them, but they only rattle and chafe against her wrist.
Bellatrix struts across the floor to Draco. He glares at her with such intensity it would make most cower away. Not her. She points her wand at him and he becomes stiff as a board. The cuffs leave his arm and Bellatrix has him hover above the ground in front of her.
"Please don't kill him!" Hermione begs. "Please!" Her voice scratches her throat and her speech is broken.
Bellatrix ignores her, floating Draco out and taking the light with them. The room falls into total pitch. The darkness is tangible and suffocating. It feels like it's pressing in on her eyes, coming closer and closer, ready to consume her. She leans her head against the wall and sobs uncontrollably. Her cries echo around the room and all throughout the dungeons. Strange noises seem to lurk in every corner. She pulls her knees to her chest, sucking on her jeans. She feels helpless, terrified, dead, and forgotten.
TBC Next Sunday...
A/N: Reviews=Love :)