I woke in a gray room, and some primeval sense told me I was near underground The light had a strained quality, like it was working too hard to reach this far down. When I woke, the first thing I did was to sit up and check my chest. There they were. Jesus god, Jesus god thank you thank you thank you. Not that everything was good now, far from it. FAR from it. But whatever torture they threw at me, whatever humiliation I would surely have to endure, at least i could do it whole.

And that is all i had time to think before i was interrupted.

A woman came in, and oh she was beautiful. I felt self-conscious just breathing. She was one of those people you don't want to be around because you start to make comparisons with yourself...and you are the one that comes up short. She looked like a mix of races, and she had gotten the best from all of them. I think it was the hair that did it. it was so long and wavy and thick and everything i wanted mine to be when I was little and too young to accept that I would be stuck with this frizzy mess the rest of my born days.

All this passed through my mind before she even had time to close the wrought iron door. I wondered why someone so beautiful was ranked so low that she had to check on prisoners. I almost asked before i thought better of it.

And suddenly there was light, so much of it so quickly that i threw up my hands. My eyes throbbed, and when I was able to open them once more the room was laced with a golden natural looking light. I sat at the edge of my bed, anxious for whatever trial would come next.

The ridiculously gorgeous woman sat in front of me, ankles crossed, hands folded, a small smile on her perfect face. She opened her mouth.

"Crucio"

I fell off the bed. No matter how many times this happened, i never developed any resistance, any immunity. I remember the last time I visited my parents, how I told them about the cruciatus curse. They asked me what it was like.

I sat in a sweet country rustic kitchen, at a weathered table, scarred with use and memories. I looked at my hands as I answered, my fingers tracing the veins in the wood.

"It's as if....as if your very best friend told you were ugly, except not just that. It's all of that but add to it the feeling of a paper cut on that skin below your eye, but also the sensation of someone taking a hammer and breaking your leg with it, but taking their time about it. Going slow. And it's the dread you feel when an army vehicle drives up to the front of your house and a man in a crisp green uniform hands you a letter and says 'I'm sorry for your loss.'" I looked up to see them watching me in horror. i looked at my parents without blinking. "And it's like you have had a very hard pregnancy and a sick and sore, and you go into labor it's so painful and there are no drugs and you think you are going to die and then when they say just push one more time and your relief is laced with panic and you say why is he so quiet, why isn't he crying and the doctor frowns and opens his mouth and your world falls apart."

"It's all of that, and so many more different kinds of pain, that I can't describe, but they are all there, just waiting to jump you."

"Get up, mudblood." her voice was nothing like her face. It was rough wet wool. The kind that clings to the skin and leaves a sickly smell that won't wash off. These thoughts were interrupted by a kick to the ribs. I screeched. It seemed as if wet-wool was a fan of steel-toed shoes.

"Get up before I loose my patience!"

I scrambled to my feet heedless of grace in the fear she would crucio me again.

She sat back down in her chair and looked at me, scrutinizing my face.

"Now..." She looked down at a card she held, "Granger, is it? You have been presented with a most desirable opportunity to better your current state."

I perked my ears and strived to look grateful. My heart was working too hard, beating too much, too fast. I was very afraid in my torn blouse and filthy corduroy skirt and my dirty face and my stupid ugly hair.

"Now, I have heard that you used to have a modicum of intellect, so your life has been spared for the present." Her eyes turned hard and flinty, "I suggest that you do not make me regret this opportunity."

I tried to look scared and humble, "I won't miss. I won't."

"You will be tested of course, for hidden motives. Should you pass, I wish you to work in research. You will be given certain tasks. The speed and accuracy with which you complete those tasks will determine your status."

"Tested?"

She smirked at me. "You, along with the rest up for research positions, will be tested by the Dark Lord...in let's see...three minutes?"

I gasped.

She got up and walked to the wrought iron door, opening it with a few mumbled words. Only at the threshold did she stop and look back at me. "I strongly suggest you follow me."

I scrambled after her, sweat running down my back, even as my fingers froze.

Time to dance with the Dark Lord. I chuckled grimly.