AN: Instead of trying to explain why Bellatrix wasn't killed by Mrs. Weasley, I just won't have them fight at all. It didn't happen. Ok? Lyrics are from Resign to Surrender by Epica.
-Ophelia
Can't move an inch
But for the act to leave fingerprints.
Freedom, farewell.
Look in the lens.
Answer the question.
Will you behave as required?
Even the Forbidden Forest was lighter than this room. After Hermione had closed the door, the thin ray of radiance that had revealed the Death Eater's pale face vanished, leaving the pair in the pitch-black room. It was not the darkness that unsettled the younger witch, although this gloom had an almost solid feel to it. She felt that if she reached further into the room she would hit an unyielding barrier of inky blackness. She supposed, however, that might be a good thing, having a shield of night between herself and the evil witch across the room. No, it was not the darkness that she was wary of. It was Bellatrix herself who frightened her, the psychotic murderer who she knew all too well had no qualms about making her suffer horribly at her clawed hands. The Gryffindor shivered at the thought, at the memory of what had transpired at Malfoy Manor only a couple months ago.
In the time that had passed since the dreadful event, she had come to realize that she held no grudge against the Malfoys for what had happened in their home; the horror in their eyes had been all too clear as they searched desperately, and failed, for a way to distract the psychotic witch from her young victim. It was no use, even if they had been able to do something. Like a rabid animal, she had been single-mindedly fixated on destroying the girl, tearing her apart. She almost succeeded. Indeed, she came much closer than Hermione would ever dare to admit to anyone.
Her famed Gryffindor bravery faltered at the painful memory, clawing its way through her mind as though eager to be free and return to the dreaded witch who had caused it. With a whispered "Incendio", Hermione lit the torches, the flames restoring light to the room and sending shadows dancing across the walls. At once, Bellatrix cried out in pain, attempting to shield her eyes from the sudden glare. She was unsuccessful, as the girl could now plainly see, because manacles chained to the wall held her arms high above her head.
"Turn it off!" she demanded harshly. The sound of her angry voice set off the flashbacks again that threatened to overwhelm the trembling young witch, but the sight of that chain holding her in place at a safe distance away bolstered her confidence. Even so, she tried to avoid looking directly at the older witch, remembering the way those black eyes had pierced through her.
"Ask nicely. As you ought to have noticed, you are in no position to make demands," Hermione admonished, drawing confidence from having power over the Dark witch this time. If the Order of the Phoenix was allowing Hermione to be that last person whom Bellatrix could talk to, then she did not doubt that they would place a great deal of value on her opinion as to what should be done next. If she told the Order that the Death Eater deserved nothing better than a slow and painful death, they would agree and give it to her. The girl took a deep breath, allowing herself to savor the moment. She held the older witch's life in her hands and thought less of it than she would a Knut in her pocket. Bellatrix Lestrange was less than worthless; she was in insult to the human race in general. Everyone knew this, all of England had been screaming for her destruction since her dramatic escape from Azkaban. Her death wouldn't be murder so much as extermination, pest control. The young woman found rising in herself a bloodlust that she had never imagined, yet there was only a small part of her mind that was alarmed by it. She wanted nothing more than to eradicate the older witch like vermin and put her in her place, just as she had tried and failed to do herself when Hermione had been under her temporary control. The tables had turned, and Hermione was not about to let such opportunity to slip between her fingers as Bellatrix had when her chance had come along.
Of course, it would be a mighty task indeed to cow such a powerful witch, and Hermione was unsure if she was up to it at all. Far from being humbled into politeness by her chains, Bellatrix laughed that crazy laugh of hers that Hermione hated so much. "Oh, but I am in such a position my little Mudblood. I asked for you and you came running like a trained hound. Sit, puppy. Turn off the lights. Good girl. Do you want a treat? Do you want me to scratch you behind the ears?" Another peal of laughter rang through the stone-walled room. Hermione clenched her fists, knowing that the older witch wasn't entirely joking about calling her an animal. Somewhere in her diseased mind lay the conviction that she was a superior being to the Gryffindor by birthright, and that her parents were sub-human merely for their lack of magic. To Bellatrix, and indeed to all of the Death Eaters, magic is what defines human beings, and Hermione was an abomination for ending up with powers of her own. She truly believed this, she was eager and willing to fight and die for the cause that supports such madness. The Gryffindor's blood boiled as she stepped towards the bound witch, raising her wand to deliver a curse that would wipe that disgusting smile off her face.
Hermione stopped short after a moment, finally getting a good look at her adversary. Her wand began to lower as she took in the sight before her, her rage draining out to be replaced with horror. Bellatrix's eyes were still scrunched up against the light, but the rest of her face was almost entirely obscured by blood. One eye was swollen shut and a nasty shade of purple. She had clearly put up quite a fight against whoever restrained her, and from the bruises that Hermione could see blossoming across her skin it was clear that they had to beat her into submission. Her robes hung from her skeletal frame in tatters, her long hair was tangled and matted with blood, and what skin was visible was black and blue. The Gryffindor's eyes followed the chains on the wall to where the manacles clapped around the Death Eater's wrists, and to her horror she saw only torn flesh and clumps of congealed blood. Bellatrix had thrashed against her bonds like a hooked fish and was rewarded with the cruel metal bonds ripping her skin apart and cutting into the exposed flesh. The wounds had swollen around them, and her ankles suffered similar injuries from the chains that held them no more than two feet apart.
Hermione's gut roiled at the sight. Despite her vicious thoughts a moment ago, when faced with the horror of such injuries she decided that not even someone like Bellatrix deserved such treatment. Nobody does, no matter what, of that she was now sure. With a flick of her wand the light dimmed, putting an end to the older witch's repeated chants of "Turn it off, turn it off..." Only now did Hermione notice how hoarse her voice was, as if she had been screaming at the top of her lungs for hours. Bellatrix slowly opened her eyes again. Her frail and battered body hung limply from the wall with her toes barely skimming the floor, the very picture of defeat. Shame welled within Hermione at the mere thought of casting the curses that she had been planning, of attacking a grievously wounded and defenseless opponent, no matter how vile. It was nearly impossible to feel anything but pity for anyone degraded in such a way.
Pleased that the light was no longer blinding her, Bellatrix smiled. Her lip was split and two teeth were missing, her grin a gruesome caricature of happiness. "Again I give an order and again the little Mudblood obeys. I could get used to this," she mused, speaking mostly to herself. She fell silent for a moment, thinking, then spoke again. "Perhaps the Mudblood would be so kind as to lower me to the floor now?" Her entire, although not considerable, weight was hanging from her mangled wrists. Hermione's eyes narrowed at being addressed in such a way, but she had already decided to release the pitiful witch before she even spoke. However, the insult did not go unpunished, and with another flick of the wand, the chains suddenly lengthened, dropping her unceremoniously and painfully to the stone floor.
She lay on the floor in a crumpled heap, and Hermione regretted her moment of spite almost at once. She certainly wasn't about to let this woman insult her without retaliating, but if this war had taught her anything, it was that violence never ended well. She knew that if their positions were reversed, Bellatrix would have left her hanging, most likely adding further injuries as well. She had, after all, tortured the girl before, and there was no telling what she might have done if Hermione was in a more vulnerable position like the one in which she had found the Death Eater. The Order would be less than impressed with showing her any kindness, but Hermione considered this as showing her human compassion. We have to be better than her, she thought. What happened here… it's madness. We can't lower ourselves to her level, or we'd be no better than Death Eaters. Still, it was so much easier said than done to show mercy to such a horrible person. If it were anyone else she was dealing with she might have even hoped to make herself an ally to them, but there was simply no reasoning with someone like Bellatrix. Knowing this, Hermione braced herself for the oncoming torrent of abuse, which she resolved not to respond to with further aggression.
Bellatrix, incorrigible as always, merely regarded Hermione haughtily instead of gratefully. Although she released her from the wall as asked, she glared at the younger witch as though she had been the one to chain her up in the first place. The Gryffindor took a careful step forward, timidly offering a hand to help her up, but she snapped her teeth at it in a pathetic show of anger. "Don't touch me, filth. I don't need your pity." Hermione ground her teeth in irritation, but withdrew. The Death Eater slowly sat up against the wall, wincing at each gentle movement with the chains clinking together. It seemed like there were even more injuries than what first met the eye, perhaps some broken bones. Once Bellatrix had settled in, she looked up at the younger witch, head tilted curiously and eyes glinting with mischief.
Angered that her help had been rejected, Hermione allowed her tone to grow harsh. "Well, Lestrange, you asked for me and here I am. What do you want? You have one chance to tell me before the Order comes in to kill you." The older witch bared her rotten teeth in a snarl at the mention of her married name, but her eyes widened at the end of the declaration.
"It's Black now," she corrected. She seemed to say it automatically, it was clear that she had repeated this many times recently. "I was told that I would live if I talked to someone, someone from the winning side." Bellatrix seemed to curl in on herself as she spoke, scowling as if the very thought was physically painful to her. "They promised to spare me. I asked for you, and you're here. Now you're saying that even if I listen to them, even if I behave, they're still going to fucking kill me? Why go through this fucking act then? Is that why they sent you, their precious little Mudblood of light and sunshine and rainbows? Are you here to kill me? Well, you want to know what I think? I think I should've fucking killed you when I had the fucking chance! It's you who should die! You and your filthy, lying friends!" She was screaming by the time she finished, her extensive injuries and cracking voice greatly diminishing the threatening aura that she usually had. The Death Eater shook with rage, eyes bright with their usual madness and maliciousness.
Hermione stared at her in alarm, frightened by her sudden anger and remembering all too well what normally came after it. All she knew about the situation was the brief explanation Professor McGonagall had given, but she mentioned that the remaining Death Eaters would be given the punishments they deserve. There had been no doubt in the young witch's mind that Bellatrix would die for her many terrible crimes, but it seemed like a deal had been offered. Why would anyone give a monster like that another chance?
The Gryffindor don't know, but she needed to find out, and quickly. She turned from the furious witch and walked towards the door. Bellatrix shouted after her. "Hey! Didn't you hear me, Mudblood? Where are you going? What are you doing? You can't just leave me here!" But Hermione was not the one chained to the wall; she could, and she did.