It was over.
In a matter of hours Voldemort would sack the ministry and hold up his end of the bargain. She turned to face the ailing Bellatrix, whose face was nearly white. Hermione scrambled to the ailing woman's side, supporting Bellatrix' back with her hand.
"How're you holding up? Think you'll be alright to apparate?"
Bellatrix bared her teeth with a hiss as she struggled to sit upright. "I don't think I have much of a choice. They're bound to find us if we linger here" Her neck lolled to the side and she looked out across the highway, gazing at the multitude of soldiers that seemed to grow in number.
Hermione grasped onto Bellatrix' wrist and tensed upon the touch. Her skin was growing cold, her pulse growing weaker by the second. The circles around Bellatrix' already sunken eyes were more pronounced than ever. Whatever damage the bullet had done on its path through the torso of the dark witch, was considerable. She let go of Bellatrix' hand and searched on the ground for a sizable twig which she swiftly transfigured into a scrap of cloth.
"The bleeding is profuse, we have to bandage it."
"No!" Bellatrix snapped angrily. "There is no time. We cannot keep the Dark Lord waiting! He is about to have his triumph at the Ministry, we must be there to witness it!" She winced again as Hermione gently probed the wound.
"You're going to go into shock if we don't do something now." Hermione spoke in a tone that was deathly serious; pronouncing each syllable carefully. "And I am almost certain that Voldemort doesn't want his celebration to be marred with having to remove your entrails from the floor. So quit being such a brat and just lift your shirt for me a little."
With a begrudging sigh, Bellatrix complied, lifting the soaked garment to reveal her belly. The entrance wound was situated just about her pelvis, and already the abscess was bright red and swollen. With great care, Hermione eased the woman forward and found the exit wound in her back. She could barely stifle a loud gasp as her eyes scanned the gnarled and shredded skin steadily leaking blood.
"Can't you just seal it already? Use a spell!" Bellatrix' voice was growing weaker though it did not belie the frustration that was clearly underneath the words. She was also beginning to shiver. Her plea went ignored and carefully, Hermione wiped the gore from the woman's skin with her hands, and shaking it away into the grass.
"Well we can rest easy that the bullet isn't lodged inside you. We'll need some dittany to close the wounds for certain, but the same cannot be said for what ever damage is on the inside. Once we're at the ministry building we can search for something to help, but in the meantime I need you to stay awake. Fight any urge to close your eyes. Promise me that Bella!" With a weak nod from Bellatrix, the young witch got to work wrapping the conjured bandage around Bellatrix' torso. She made sure to apply slight pressure over both wounds as she did so, despite earning a chorus of protest from the older witch. When she was satisfied, she helped the older witch to her feet. "Alright, I'm going to apparate us to the ministry, you damn well better stay awake, lest we leave half of you behind. And I don't plan on coming back here to get you!"
CRACK! They arrived outside of a cherry red phone booth in London, the only portal to the Ministry that Hermione knew of. The events in Westminster had a ripple effect, people were frantically rushing through the streets and cars were tangled in a massive traffic jam. Many people were shouting into their cellphones, wild attempts to locate their loved ones. Each person on the street was engulfed in their own personal panic attack. No one saw the two women arrive one of which was soaked from the waist down with blood. Bellatrix was now sweating profusely and shivering as Hermione struggled to get her into the cramped confinement of the phone booth. The pupils of her eyes were almost completely dilated. "Please Bella...stay awake...please...we're nearly there."
The Dark witch, however, barely acknowledged the request and slumped against Hermione when the enchanted phone booth plunged deep underground. The trip lasted only seconds, but each of those seconds was another second closer to death for Bellatrix.
Bodies littered the ground and the smell of smoke and blood choked Hermione's lungs as they exited onto the ministry floor. Papers billowed about everywhere along with ask raining down from the various fires that burned above them. Hermione dragged the ailing death eater toward the center of the antechamber, Bellatrix' blood leaving a snail's trail from the booth. Through the smoke there materialized a gaggle of hooded figures all whooping loudly and seemingly celebrating. At the epicenter of the group stood a proud Lord Voldemort, gripping tightly to the neck of Rufus Scrimgour, the Minister for magic. The man's body hung limp like a ventriloquists dummy, his lifeless eyes trained upon the floor. His face was expressionless, and Hermione found it strangely haunting. The dark lord smiled broadly at the arrival of the two witches and he simply dropped the corpse of the minister on the ground, the head striking the marble floor like a ball with a sickening thud.
The Dark Lord approached the two women clapping his hands loudly. His mouth was curled into a crocodilian smile. "Hermione my dear! You have done it! Already word has traveled and the rumors of the attack are spreading disease like across the land. The muggles have all but concealed themselves within their own homes in fear of attack from some unknown enemy. They are crippled with the fear of a faceless terror. Travel has ceased, the haughty diplomats all blame each other, and best of all, the Aurors are overwhelmed. Before we arrived here, my dear Sir Scrimgour withdrew all of them from Hogwarts, and nearly half from Azkaban to deal with the crisis. To see if it was I who brought pandemonium to the muggles and their queen. And now my friends, he lies dead at my feet. The ministry has fallen, and it is time usher in a new era. An age of perfection and purity unlike anything our world has ever seen.". His red eyes found Hermione's. "And we shall rule over it together...you will be at my right hand." Instantly the room was plunged into a deafening silence. Wormtail couldn't contain the gasp of surprise at the revelation, and Fenrir growled his disdain. "Imagine Hermione...shape the world with your mind..."
"My Lord...". Bellatrix struggled and pulling free from Hermione's grasp, staggered toward the dark lord with an arm outstretched. "But what of me? Am I not your most loyal?"
He waved her off, and the elder witch responded as though she were slapped. "Patience Bella...patience."
Hermione took a step forward, clearing her throat audibly. All eyes trained upon the brunette with her fists tightly clenched at her sides. "While I find your offer tempting, but you know what I want, and I believe I've more than lived up to my half of the bargain."
"Ahh yes. Right, right, right...the phylacteries...such devious little trinkets aren't they? Capable of so much..." Out of nothingness as single phylactery crystal materialized and wafted slowly into the Dark Lord's open palm. With the pads of his thumb and pointer finger, he absently rolled the jewel from side to side as he scrutinized the object closely.
"Let Fleur go. Let all of the half-humans go. Your deed has been done, the Ministry has fallen. Destroy them." Accio phylactery! Her mind focused intensely upon the wretched object but try as she might, she felt a physical barrier in her mind. He was fighting back.
A finger waved in a reproachful manner. "Now, now now...haste never got anyone anywhere my dear.. Your Fleur, such a delicate flower indeed...possesses so much...potential. I have never seen a true Veela with my own two eyes...that monstrous transformation. An untapped source of power at my disposal."
The cold hands of betrayal wrapped its fingers around her throat. Rage burned within her. "You wouldn't dare." She took another step forward, leaving the whimpering Belltrix behind. "Let. Her. Go."
"I suppose it would be most discourteous of me to consider such a thing with your beloved. After all, you have done so much for me...but I am coming to find that our dearly departed minister was on to something here when he created these phylacteries...imagine one of these crystals on the neck of every blood traitor and mud blood in all of England...total and complete control...oh my dear, I would be remiss if I gave up such a utilitarian method of control!"
"No! Destroy them! You don't need these, get rid of them!" Tears burned her already blood shot eyes as she pulled out her wand. Aiming it at the Dark Lord he simply stared down it's tip and laughed.
"And what pray tell are you going to do with that? And the question that begs to be asked is why do you care? Suppose I only destroy the crystal about your Veela's neck? What then?"
"You selfish monster! Destroy them now!"
The Dark Lord let out a loud laugh that echoed through the cavernous hallways of the Ministry building. The reverberations caused some windows to shatter, the glass shards falling like rain. Abruptly the laughter ceased and with a vicious swipe of his hand, Hermione found herself dangling by the collar of her shirt before his glowing red eyes. "Selfish? Monster? Don't be so foolish child, the only monster I see here...is you. Casting aside all that you once believed in, in order to help bring me to power and by doing so condemning an entire group of people to inevitable oppression. And you did it all in the name of something so incredibly egocentric as love. Now is a most inopportune time to go down the righteous path...after all that you've done. All of the pain that you've caused. And I have grown weary of your indifference to our cause. And for that you shall suffer...CRUCIO!"
Before she could react, the bolt struck her square in the chest knocking her to the floor as though she had been punched by a fist.
Everything turned white. She could feel her skin being pulled from her bones. Redness exploded from behind her eyes as an otherworldly pain overtook her small body. Images flooded her mind.
Cleavers, knives, syringes.
Sharpness.
Suffering.
Acid.
The bite of cold metal across hot flesh. Pain. Heat. Fire. Burn. Rip. Stab.
To any observer Hermione appeared to be having an epileptic fit, her body rattling hard on the marble floor, her eyes fluttering, and foamy saliva frothing out from her mouth amid ear-piercing screams. But inside the prison of Hermione's mind, the experience was entirely different. Hallucinations accompanied the searing pain, and Hermione found herself naked and strapped down spread-eagle on an ice-cold metal operating table. Then there was laughter. Slowly looking up, she met the gaze of a man dressed in surgeon's gear with bright red eyes. Voldemort. Clutched tightly in his veiny hands was a grossly oversized scalpel. Terrified beyond measure, Hermione wanted to scream, but could not as she was also gagged. Voldemort cackled loudly and reared his arm back in a high arc.
Then it stopped.
Gasping for air, she found herself in the ministry once more. The Dark Lord circled around the downed girl with a scowl on his face. "It's most unpleasant isn't it my dear? You cast the curse with no thought and little did you know what a good cruciatus entails. Let this be a lesson to you. CRUCIO!"
Suddenly she was back on the operating table and the scalpel was plunged deeply into her torso; just below the apex of her rib cage. The pain was unbearable as the scalpel pierced through skin and muscle before tearing through the precious organs that lie beneath. Eyes went wide in horror as a geyser of blood erupted from the wound. Immediately the Dark Lord began to drag the scalpel downward toward her hips with a sawing motion, slicing her open like a frog for dissection. Lifting her head to gaze down the length of her torso, she saw that her mutilated innards were exposed; the freshly flayed skin of her abdomen cut open and stretched outward on either side of the table. The simple awareness of the air grazing the pulsating organs sent shockwaves of agony in all directions. Her eyes widened impossibly at the sight, and she watched in utter disgust as the meat of her diaphragm pulsated to draw in the frantic breaths into her lungs; thankfully still contained beneath her intact breast plate. Vomit surged forth up her throat and she started to choke on it. The Dark Lord grinned madly and pressed both of his large hands against her windpipe, crushing it slowly with force. Death was near...and so was...Bellatrix?
"STOP IT! STOP IT! PLEASE MY LORD!" Bellatrix pleaded, effectively interrupting the torture curse. Hermione sputtered and gasped for breath, immediately her hands went to her stomach feeling for any damage...there was none. "She's just a child...she did what you asked of her...let her go. Set Fleur free..."
Voldemort's face warped into a tempest of rage. "Since when have you become such a sniveling minion? This one must learn. And how does the expression go? Spare the rod, spoil the child. " He trained his wand upon the downed girl once more. "Cru-" Immediately Bellatrix threw her body in front of Hermione's, putting the Dark Lord into an even deeper rage. "I don't want to punish you as well Bella...but seeing as you are so eager...SECTUMSEMPRA!"
Slashes suddenly bloomed all over the dark witch's face and body; rivulets of blood running down from the many wounds. Instantly Bellatrix wailed in agony, her hands unconsciously clawing at the lesions. Hermione watched helplessly as Bellatrix' body twisted and writhed about as invisible daggers and knives stabbed her at nearly every possible angle.
"Know that this hurts me...so much more than it hurts her." Said the Dark Lord with a frown, as he watched his hench-woman being filleted before his eyes. "Please...don't make me do this to you both again. There is still so much to be done...lest we forget the boy...and I need you both."
The other Death Eaters however seemed to find great enjoyment at the sight of the manic witch being tortured. In fact the loudest cheers came from the lips of her own husband Rodolphus, who was laughing wildly with a finger outstretched.
Thinking herself to be hearing a donkey braying, Hermione turned to regard the laughing man with utter vitriol. Despite the cacophany of agonizing screams surrounding her, she willed her body to focus intensely on Rodolphus, and the two words were but a whisper. But the feeling that came with it was nothing short of ecstasy.
avada...kedavra
The chortling stopped in an instant, and he fell face forward onto the ground. Dead. Voldemort's head whipped over to see Rodolphus crumple and Hermione quickly scrambled to her feet. Before she could regard the rapidly fading elation on the Dark Lord's face, she grabbed onto Bellatrix' blood slick arm and promptly disapparated.
CRACK! They landed harshly in the sand, with Bellatrix slumped deadweight against Hermione. A few meters away was Shell cottage, smoke steadily rising from it's chimney stack and a few windows lit. Hermione rolled the ailing witch on her back and drew her wand. Bellatrix was nearly unrecognizable, her face looked like raw meat, her clothes covered in gore. Hermione couldn't tell the woman's own lips from the myriad of slashes that surrounded it. Muttering the counter curse rapidly, Hermione willed the gashes to close and heal. After five long minutes, all that remained was the bullet hole in Bellatrix' stomach. She attempted to rouse her godmother, but there was no response. Bellatrix finally succumbed to bloodloss, she was out cold.
Letting out a loud sigh, Hermione rolled back to rest on her haunches. Exhaustion wracked her body, and all she longed for was a bed, and Fleur to curl up with. She wanted to cry; curl up in a fetal position and cry. But the intense heat of her inner outrage seemed to reduce any tears to steam before they could reach her eyes. She had committed murder, and frankly, couldn't give a damn.
"Hello! Who's out there?" A male voice rang through the darkness, and she turned to see a tall silhouette in the front entryway of Shell Cottage. Bill Weasley.
"Lumos.". Hermione held her wand aloft and waved it in a small arc. "Bill! It's Hermione! Please! I need your help!"
"'Ermione!" In the doorway, Fleur suddenly appeared next to Bill before breaking into a full sprint across the sand. Anger vanished at the sight of the blonde. Hermione stood and began to run toward her lover, arms outstretched, and soon they collided in a tangle of arms and kisses. "Oh mon ange what're you doing 'ere! And what 'as 'appened to you?"
Hermione sniffed back a few tears and gestured at the ailing woman behind her.
"'eez 'zat..."
"Bella...she's wounded. She's been shot." Hermione dared not to speak of what had occurred mere minutes before their arrival.
Bill walked over and stood at Fleur's side. His knotted brow spoke volumes as he stood silently regarding both of the injured witches. "You know, I should be calling the Order...after what you've done to my family, to Moody, and now you bring this murderer with you...you know when you told me she was your godmother, I figured you were joking or that you'd never seen her...but now here she is in the flesh, bleeding out on the beach..."
"Bill...I..."
Fleur moved to stand in between Bill and the comatose Death Eater. "Non! Bill please...'elp 'zem...'Ermione knows not what she 'eez doing."
"How can you stand here defending her after she's betrayed us! The Ministry has fallen, just heard it over the wire, and I bet you two had something to do with it." He pointed an accusatory finger at the bleeding death eater. "You-know-who's actually done it. He's won."
"Bill you don't know 'zee whole story!" A tearful Fleur begged. "She 'eez trying to 'elp us! Trying to get 'zee phylacteries destroyed!" Bill's face suddenly softened.
"And I've failed..." Hermione looked up at Bill with an inscrutable countenance. "Bill, there are no words, no excuses for what I've done to your family. Nor for Bella. I was an utter fool, thinking this was the path I should take to free you, Fleur and Kara. I was so, so desperate for a family. For people that loved me...for me. And standing here now, out on this beach, Bellatrix Lestrange included, is the only family I have left...and I've managed to ruin that as well." She ran a hand through her tousled hair. "We have no where left to go...please Bill if you could find it in your heart to allow us into your home for the night...I promise we'll leave by sunrise."
Bill turned to gaze at Fleur. "Well...I leave this to you." Fleur nodded softly. "And what of her?"
"I'll disarm her if it makes you feel more comfortable, but know that she has been gravely wounded. She is of no harm to you, or anyone else for that matter."
Bill gazed down upon Bellatrix, absently rubbing his thumb across his chin. "Get her inside." Fleur gazed up at her lover and mustered a half-smile before reaching down to disapparate with Bellatrix' body. Once they were gone, Bill slowly did an about-face and made for the front porch. Hermione gave chase.
"Bill...please believe me...I implore you!"
He whipped around in high dudgeon at the words. "Hermione. See it from my perspective. You helped to ransack my childhood home. How am I supposed to feel?"
"I...I don't know!"
Bill's hands came to rest upon his hips in a gesture of anger. "You don't know. That's just great. How do I know that you won't inflict the cruciatus curse on me too!"
With a sudden surge of vigor Hermione stood close to Bill. "Because unlike the majority of the world, you actually give a damn about me!" Her arms flew skyward as if the conversation were an object to throw away. "I am fighting for a future. I am aware that mere words will offer no consolation to you now, but at least know that if I could, I'd have done things differently!" She paused to study the elder Weasley's face; it was abundantly clear she commanded his undivided attention. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. "But understand that your family, more appropriately Ron and Ginny, have caused me damage far worse than any cruciatus curse could ever hope to inflict!" She hissed. "And look at yourself, you keep your true identity so secret from them all because you know how they are. You know of their ignorance and how they wouldn't understand."
Bill's lips contorted to further form words but Hermione was faster, silencing him with a palm held aloft. "Don't you dare try to deny it. Look at the lengths Fleur and I have gone to to help keep your lycanthropy secret...especially Fleur. If anyone has suffered the most through this entire ordeal...it's her."
Bill heaved a sigh and his soldiers slackened in defeat. "Shit."
With trepidation, Hermione reached toward the elder Weasley and took a calloused hand in each of her own. Her left thumb traced the edge of a grizzled scar on the top of his larger hand. "I did this to set you and her free. You both are my family. I plan to see this through to the end whether you let Bella and I stay here or not. All I ask is one night."
"Alright..."
Reentering Shell Cottage was an indescribable experience for Hermione. In these walls was born the most wonderful relationship the young Gryffindor ever had. The gentle lullaby of the breeze and waves ushering nights of wonderful dreams for the two young lovers. Happiness was here. Happiness in the sweet smells of Fleur's cooking. Happiness tucked between the pages of countless books shared in the solitude of the night. Happiness rode the tops of the whitecaps that ebbed toward the shore. Happiness was Fleur Delacour. But now things were different. The walls were suddenly alien, and Hermione shivered with the pervasive cold of the night air. Voices wafted to her ears as she drew closer to the far hallway that led to the study. With calculated steps she made her way toward the voices, unsure of whether or not she wished to learn of what was occurring inside.
Hermione entered the dimly lit room to find Kara and Fleur hovering over Bellatrix' body sprawled out on the daybed. A transfigured set of surgical instruments sat on a nearby nightstand. Kara worked with great precision to extract pieces of the metal bullet that had punctured a hole through the dark witch's torso. Fleur, with Bellatrix' head on her lap looked up to meet Hermione's face with a soft smile.
"Will she be alright?" Hermione asked, her voice saturated with worry. Kara gave a slight nod.
"Hey Herm. Yeah...she should recover, though the damage to her organs was pretty severe. I'd keep a close eye on her, lest infection set in. The bullet only fractured a little bit when it went through her." Kara spoke with confidence as she continued to deftly work, her wand was lit and carefully perched behind her ear.
"Kara...thank you so much for doing this..." Hermione sputtered, the tears were threatening to pour from her eyes.
Kara grinned. "I did attend a muggle medical school in a America before coming here! I'm just glad that my skills aren't rusty. Wanted to be a multi-discipline healer; working with magical and muggle clients...but with the partial human security program, I wasn't allowed to practice, so I was stuck working in an apothecary. I gotta admit, pretty neat to have a fugitive as a patient though!"
Fleur was absently stroking Bellatix' sable curls. The two women had apparently cleaned the Death Eater as there was not a single speck of dirt or blood left on her face and body. Hermione opened her mouth to speak.
Kara interrupted. "And...we are...done!" She stood and turned to face Hermione and arched her back to crack her vertebrae. "Just keep a close eye on her for the next few days, she should not exert herself in any way unless she'll rip the sutures in her torso and her back. I didn't have enough dittany to do a complete healing, so the body will have to do the rest I'm afraid. And she will most certainly be in a lot of pain for the next few days, though I'm sure that magic has a solution for that as well." With a loud snapping of her fingers all of the surgical equipment returned to their normal state; a pile of silverware which Kara proceeded to gather up. "No doubt Bill must be pretty upset."
Hermione gave a despondent nod, gazing down at the tops of her shoes.
"Look I'm never one to condone violence, but I...I'm glad at least that no one was severely injured...over the past few days, Fleur has explained everything to me...and I'll admit...I don't know what I'd do if I'd run into the people who tormented me for so long...or what I'd do if I were in your situation for that matter." Kara admitted with a slight shrug.
The brunette tensed visibly as Kara spoke, and once more she tried to choke down the nagging anger in the pit of her gut. Still she could do nothing to stave the internal satisfaction of seeing Ginny writhe under her torture curse. And further, she still wished to 'run into' Ron. She dared not express the thrill of the killing curse either for that matter...watching Rodolphus fall was nothing short of orgasmic in its satisfaction.
Kara continued, her tone demure. "And I think Bill understands that too...but they're still his family...I'll talk with him about it later."
Hermione turned to face Kara, reaching across the space between them to place a hand upon the woman's shoulder. "Don't worry. Really. We've taken advantage of your kindness enough for one day...We'll be gone by morning." She gave a gentle squeeze.
Kara shot a confused look, her raven hair veiling her face. The beads braided on her head clicked like a metronome as she shook her head. "Hermione...are you sure? I know you were only trying to help us."
"Though Bill acts as if I've already overstayed my welcome..."
Kara prepared to speak once more but Fleur audibly cleared her throat. "Could you excuse us for a few moments Kara? S'il vous plaît?"
"Will Bella be alright?" Hermione asked before Kara could leave; a tiny speckle of hope in her voice.
"Should be. As I said before, just make sure she doesn't exert herself too much." Kara rested upon the doorframe. "Join us for dinner will you? Bring Bella with you. I bet she makes for fantastic dinner conversation..."
"Of course." Once they were alone Hermione gazed back at her lover who was currently wearing an unreadable expression on her face. Cautiously, Hermione approached the frenchwoman before leaning in to kiss her, Fleur did not move."Baby..."
"'Ermione...you...attacked 'zee muggle Queen today didn't you?" Fleur said with a slight growl. "'Zee pandemonium, 'zee insanity 'zat was all you wasn't it?"
"Fleur I..." Her weakened voice suddenly swelled with volume. "Don't play this with me...you knew about it! You knew!" Hermione began to shout, fists balled up tightly at her sides. "You heard it from the Dark Lord's lips!"
"And now 'zee ministry 'eez no more...'zee Dark Lord 'as clearly won, so are we free? Am I free? 'eez all of 'zis worth 'eet? Can we go?" Fleur pleaded. Hermione couldn't help but feel surprise at the lack of anger in the Veela's voice. The young frenchwoman merely sounded exhausted.
Wracked with sobs, Hermione crumpled to the floor. "I failed...he...oh God how stupid I am...what the hell was I thinking..."
Fleur fell to Hermiones side, gathering her lover into her embrace. "I 'zought 'e promised..."
"He's going to use the phylacteries against half bloods and muggleborns...oh god I should've seen this coming.". She started before emitting a high-pitched wail. "Fleur...I may have made all of this even worse..."
"Perhaps 'e can be persuaded?"
"He is hell bent on domination...it'll be like arguing physics with a brick wall."
"But you are 'is family...surely 'e would spare us! After what you 'ave done today! 'Zee entire country 'eez 'een a frenzy! Uzzer nations are calling 'zis an act of terror..."
"And they're right. Terror is exactly what we've accomplished today. And Merlin knows the battle isn't over yet. He's planning to go after Harry. Harry is the final piece to all of this...the prophecy from the department of mysteries predicted it. Neither can live whilst the other is still alive."
"So 'zee dark lord 'eez not at full power yet non?" Fleur offered.
"Seems to be the logical conclusion at the moment. But regardless, he is still a force to be reckoned with, and I am certain he'll call for Bella and I again soon."
"And will you answer 'zee call?"
Recalling her earlier torture Hermione could not suppress the involuntary shiver that ran up her spine like an electrical current. "I don't think I have a choice."
"What 'eef...non, 'eet's crazy..." Fleur thought aloud, her eyes trained upon the rafters of the study ceiling. Her thumb and pointer finger grazed the skin of her chin.
"What?" The brunette probed with sudden avidity.
"Wiz your telekinetic power...and your shared blood, you might be stronger 'zan 'e! What 'eef you take over!"
"Fleur, don't speak such madness."
"'Zink about 'zee possibilities! You can shape 'zee world for us!" Fleur gasped. "'Zat incredible mind of yours! You can bring down your enemies by mere 'zought!"
"I'll likely be vilified...but it does seem tempting. Though I am completely at a loss at how to defeat him!"
"You can't. He is more or less immortal." Came a brusque voice. Struggling to sit upright, a now conscious Bellatrix Lestrange was inching up little by little with her arms, lifting herself off of Fleur's lap. Grimacing loudly all throughout the simple motions, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and placed her head into her palms, massaging her temples furiously. "I have seen it with my own two eyes. Struck dead on by the killing curse, and he doesn't flinch. Whatever magic that is keeping the Dark Lord alive is old indeed."
The three women sat in silence before a fourth voice spoke unexpectedly. And though only two words were spoken, Bellatrix instantly turned white.
"Bella...darling?"
A/N: If you read my other fic "Stockholm" you'll see that I interpret the cruciatus curse to just be an all out assault on the senses. On the outside we see someone cry out in pain, but on the inside, trapped inside their minds, the victim's worst fears manifest. Whether or not that's what JK intended a good crucio to be like, that's just how I like to think of it. Because just shooting the cruciatus curse blindly has to mean something to be truly unforgivable...and to drive people to madness.
til next time...ttfn...tata for now!