A/N: This chapter took a long time in addition to my peace of mind to get it done. I won't lie, I almost thought of giving up on this story because putting Ron through this has been an excruciating a task. This is a smaller chapter than you are used to. I am sorry but I just could not make it longer or more descriptive. In fact, this chapter was to have a few more things happening which will come in the next one now.

Angst and lot of angst, please be braised. And I am sorry.

To the guest reviewer: Thanks again for your review. I will again say, I get where you are coming from but I remember having pointed out in my author note (Chapter 17 to be exact) that this story is a close parallel track to the original books. In fact, I have also mentioned earlier that I assumed all my readers have read the books because this story is so entwined with the original.

Thanks to all my readers who have stuck with me for months now and a loving welcome to the new ones who have added this to your favourite/follow list recently. And hugs to those of you who have been kind enough to leave me a review. They mean a LOT to me.

All character rights belong to JKR

Chapter 48: Rip Me Apart

I am only telling this now because once you know the truth, you'll probably hate me - just as much as I hate myself, and I'll never get another chance to tell you how much you mean to me.

Ron's words, spoken weeks ago, echoed in her head and tore at her heart. It all made sense now.

Hermione had been pacing in her room. It might have been hours after she had come out of the bath, or perhaps even days- she could hardly figure out the length of time that had elapsed. But she was sure it had been a long, long while since the stout man with a silver hand, Pettigrew, had dragged Ron's tall unconscious form away from the parlour. It had taken her all the strength in the world to watch him being dragged away, the floor, although carpeted but still pretty rough, scratching his back. He was to be taken to the dungeons and left there- that was the deal, the time she had bought for them by her lies. Bellatrix, she knew, had only agreed because it would give her a chance at torture, and Lucius, no matter how welcoming he pretended to be, had different plans for sure.

Hermione knew she didn't have a lot of time- at least Ron didn't. They had only kept him alive because she had told them that Harry would do anything to get his best mate back alive. And, only Ron knew where Harry could possibly be. She was not so concerned about Harry because stuck inside the Chateau though he was, he was at least safe for now. Ron wasn't.

And Hermione couldn't help but blame herself for it.

If only she would not have walked out! But then, situations were so different at the time. Was it only this morning? It felt like a lifetime away. The fear of getting captured and then pulled into that seedy pub was nothing compared to what she felt now. And somehow, the dangerous predicament was making her mind process all the more furiously. It was like a long line of dots that she could easily connect. It all fell into place- Ron's silence and his guilt, his insistence that she keep her cover. All her anger and complaints could wait till they were safe and out of this place. It felt almost immature to be upset with him now, not just because his life was at risk but because she could easily see how he had thought it all up- and planned to keep both her and Harry safe while he took the brunt of it all.

She cleared her throat again as her breath came out in gasps, seemingly getting caught in her throat every time she tried inhaling deeply. They had to get out of here, but how? There was no chance of external help, Harry was locked in and the Order had no clue. To add to their woes, she had no wand and Ron was held up deep in the dungeons and injured. And this was just the beginning...

She shuddered to think of the measures Lucius and Bellatrix could come up with to make him speak. At the time, it had seemed the perfect way to keep him alive by saying that he held information they needed, but now, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she had, by her lies, risked Ron's life further.

"Hermione dear?" she hated that voice but arranged her expressions immediately, straightening up her shoulders and lifting up her chin in that familiar, arrogant way.

"Lucius," she replied turning around at the man who looked a weakened version of one she once knew, but all the more dangerous for it.

"They found no trace of Potter where they picked you from," he said silkily but with a calculative eye.

"It would be stupid to lurk around in the shack after our capture. I'm afraid I have no idea where he can be, Lucius. I've told you the boys decided the hideout locations and they did not trust me enough to let me know. I wasn't even allowed my wand."

"Hmm," muttered the old man before meeting her eyes in with a flicker of a scorn which he hid with a smile.

"Well, I didn't mention it in front of Bella but I am a little disappointed in you, my child. One would have thought, a brilliant Slytherin like yourself would have fooled those two pesky boys in these many months."

If Hermione didn't already doubt his false pretence of warmth, his tone would have done it now. But she was no fool. The Malfoys did nothing without a definite motive and the lure of some form of gain but she could not really put a finger on his real agenda, well, apart from getting back the favours he had lost, for one.

"Tell me Lucius, would you trust someone from the Order so easily if the situations were reversed? They are fools but they have still managed to elude capture despite all of Bellatrix's goons. " she forced instead, and Lucius raised his brows before giving a curt nod.

"Well, we've got one of them now. Anyway, I am here to take you along, Bella wants a word with the blood traitor."

Hermione held on with every bit of Slytherin cunning and deceit she held in her bones and hoped that her face remained passive as Lucius watched her intently.

"Sure," she replied with a smile and relaxed as the man seemed convinced, for the time being at least.

"After you, my dear," he called and she picked up her gown and walked off haughtily, the only thought keeping her from crumbling down was that Ron's life depended on her cover. If she blew hers up, he would become the spare and would not last a minute.

...

Hermione was petrified.

She could almost feel her heart throbbing at the base of her throat which was parched, to say the least. Fear flowed through her very bloodstream as she followed the two dark figures deep into the bowel of the Manor.

Stone steps spiralled downwards into pitch black darkness and she only hoped that Ron had not been dragged down over the rough-edged stones. The image of his bleeding, unconscious form flashed in front of her eyes and she grasped the dark, hard wall to steady her steps, regretting her action it immediately. Something damp and sticky covered her palm and as she brought her hand to her nose, bile forced its way up. It smelt of blood.

She pushed the knuckles of her other hand into her mouth to cut out the cry of horror that almost escaped. Who knew what kind of horrors this place had been a witness to?

Glad of the darkness that shrouded the narrow passage, she followed soundlessly as the figures ahead of her left the steps to move into one of the passages. Faint light from torches placed at great distances lit up the ceilings, and she quickened her steps breathing deeply.

Her brain was cursing her and rebuking her in a constant loop. She should have never gone ahead with the plan. The mad gleam in Bellatrix's eyes and that evil smile had rattled her to the core. The maniac woman was all too excited to torture the information of Harry's location out of Ron.

Once the Snatchers had come back from the shack empty handed, an irate Bellatrix had decided to use her new 'toy' for information. It was just an excuse; Hermione knew the mad witch was only itching to get her filthy hands on Harry Potter's best mate, perhaps because she could not kill Harry himself. And, there was a high chance that both she and Lucius wanted to see Hermione's reaction.

If Hermione was not mistaken, the witch had glanced at her once when she had outlined her plan. Did she suspect something? Hermione sincerely hoped, not.

They crossed multiple cells, some of which were surely occupied by the sounds of whimpering coming through small gaps on their doors. The further they moved, the more her feet felt like lead. A thousand thoughts ran through her head. But all her ideas included her possessing a wand and Lucius had none. And even by the oddest shot if she could manage to get Lestrange's , they would still have to get out of this place and that particularly looked to be the biggest hurdle. The bad part was that, she didn't know when the Dark Lord would return but even without him, their chances for escape would only get worse the longer they were stuck here, the more time Bellatrix had to torture Ron.

...

His limbs felt like dead weight and his shoulders were killing him. There were scratches all across his back that stung with even the slightest of movement and his face was definitely bruised and swollen. He could do with a sip of water; the only meal he had had, if it could be called a meal at all, was a cup of tea that morning. It felt like days ago not hours. As the silence of the dungeon echoed around him, he let himself think of the two people who meant the most to him in the world. He couldn't help wonder how Harry would escape the Chateau while both he and Hermione were stuck here. To be honest, his plan would fall flat if Harry was caged in an impenetrable Chateau for all eternity. And Hermione- he hoped she was doing alright. The Death Eaters would be the last people he would trust to have around her but at least, if she kept the act going, they would not harm her.

It was clear that You-Know-Who was not present. If he was, both of them would be dead by now, or at least he would. His plan had bought them time but not much. They would have to figure out some way to get out. That would not be an easy task, least of all because of the fucking mess he was in at the moment. And if his guts were not wrong, things would only deteriorate further once Bellatrix Lestrange was involved. He braced himself mentally although he very much doubted that he could even fathom the crazy games the Death Eaters could come up with. Bellatrix had tortured the Longbottoms to insanity, had used Cruciatus on Harry at the Ministry. He was sure she had killed and maimed a thousand others just for the fun of it. Ron let out a breath that irritated his windpipe so much that he ended up coughing instead and that further triggered an ache in his chest.

But amidst all of it, the solace was that it was him, not Harry or Hermione or anyone from his family suspended on cuffs and left to rot in the dungeons of what could only be the Malfoy Manor. He blinked rapidly a few times to get the haze out of his vision reminding himself that he was a Gryffindor and a Weasley, he could take a little torture. Weasleys were strangely hard-wearing. Perhaps surviving for years in poor conditions hardened you up that way.

And this was always coming, wasn't it? He had to survive it for the sake of Harry and the goal they had in front of them. And, he had to survive for her; had to get her to safety, back to Harry. How things would be between him and his best mate could wait, for now, all he was worried about was Hermione. He hoped they would keep her out of their sick games. And in the worse case that she was present to witness, he hoped she would be able to hold her cover. He was suddenly gladder than ever. He had the better deal. He would never be able to bear it if he had to watch her getting tortured. It was barmy a thought, but at present, he felt glad about hurting her with his words earlier. Perhaps if she was angry enough with him, his predicament wouldn't bother her as much...

Faint sounds of footsteps were fast approaching and he tugged uselessly on the cuffs binding him to the pole that hung a foot above his head. A bone-chilling, high-pitched cackle sounded just as the heavy door opened, and in the torch flame that illuminated the corridor, Ron roughly figured three people walking in.

Bellatrix Lestrange entered with a stiff gait that barely hid the spring in her step and was followed by Lucius whose paleness looked ghostly in the semi-darkness. But it was the third figure that almost stopped his heart. For a brief moment when the light fell on her face, he saw the almost colourless face of Hermione Granger. However, the three shifted and their own bodies and shadows cut off the light altogether. He lifted his head slightly to notice that Hermione was standing almost at the door, while the taller witch approached him, her high heels clicking on the stone floor.

"Ahh, our guest is awake, Lucius!" she exclaimed gleefully.

"A filthy Weasley is no guest of mine," sneered Lucius distastefully, "and a blood traitor no less. What else can you expect from Arthur Weasley's spawn?" he spat and Ron, despite the many aches and injuries, forced his eyes on the vile old bastard.

"Oh, this one has a fight in him!" cheered Bellatrix moving a step closer. With her heels, she was almost as tall as him and thin.

She placed one long-nailed finger to run across his cheeks before hissing in a lower and much deadlier voice, "What's the fun in breaking the easy?"

The force of the finger increased as she pushed it harder against his cheeks. Placing the dirty nail on a cut from earlier, she dug her nails in and scratched it further, the warming of the skin telling him that it was now oozing blood.

Sure enough, Bellatrix removed her blood-coated finger and after glancing at it for a brief minute flicked it casually.

"Pure but tainted blood, dirty if you know what I mean?" she asked speaking to no one in particular. He continued to watch her fiercely without turning at the one girl who stood almost in the shadows.

Bellatrix turned around to face him again before flicking her wand, and a couple of torches fixed on the walls lit up, "What's a show if you can't see it, right Granger?" she asked maliciously and despite himself, his eyes were drawn to her.

Please Hermione, please... he repeated silently. She took a few steps ahead and Ron allowed himself a smile.

"WHAT ARE YOU SMILING ABOUT, WEASEL?" roared Lucius but before he could respond, Hermione spoke up. Her voice was calm, poised and reminded her way too much of their fifth year.

"He has a tendency of grasping things a little late," she replied keeping an eye on his face. She held her head straight and her face was nothing if not impassive, but those eyes met his for a minute and he saw what he needed to, fear and pain and... love. It was all he needed to hold on, to bear through whatever was coming his way. She turned away to face Lucius and her mask was hopefully on again.

"It will take him time to believe that he has been betrayed," she added with a shrug.

He spoke at last to seal her cover. "You've lived with us for more than a year now, was it all an act?"

"What else did you expect, Weasley?" she spat turning sharply towards him, and he noticed with a sideways glance that the two Death Eaters were watching them intently.

"I expected you would have seen what they are," he huffed. Talking was taking more effort than he had realised earlier.

"This is where I belong, Weasley. Did you expect me to live in the hovel you all call a home?" she sneered and it was so convincing that he looked shocked at her again.

"You never trusted me anyway, never gave me my wand," she went on and he was reminded that she was still acting. He smirked, "Well, it seems so very justified now, doesn't it?"

Bellatrix made an impatient sound, "ENOUGH OF YOUR BANTER!" she growled and pulled Hermione off to stand in front of Ron again.

"Where is Potter?" she asked looking deeply into his eyes and the lessons he had taken from Lupin surfaced automatically as his mind created a barrier.

"What makes you think I'll tell you?" he spat even while a jolt of pain ran through his shoulder.

Long, bony fingers clasped around his hair and pulled, nails scraping his scalp and he only breathed out in a huff keeping his lips closed in a tight line.

"If you care even a little for your life, tell me where Potter is and I might spare you."

He took a long look at her before looking away keeping both his mouth and mind shut all the time.

"Well, have it your way then!" she responded and then, the very next minute, white, hot fire seemed to be pumping through his very veins. His limbs convulsed, pain amplified by the bonds and his ears reverberated with screams which he later realised were his own.

...

Hermione knew she would have chosen death to this. She watched as Ron took one after one spell of Cruciatus, writhing and screaming, his voice bouncing off the walls and choking her heart. She was not even sure what her face depicted, perhaps it was as inert as her heart. She was sure she had crossed the limit of actually feeling pain. It was only numbness now that encompassed all her sensed. On and on it went for what seemed like hours before a voice screamed for the maniac to stop.

As two pairs of eyes turned towards her, she realised it was her own.

"Any problem, my dear?" came Lucius's silky voice and she turned mechanically towards him.

"He will be of no use if he goes insane." Her voice sounded stiff and devoid of emotions but somehow that seemed to please the other two.

"Why, yes! Yes!" cheered Malfoy Senior while Lestrange who looked like she was having the moment of her life, turned away from the limp form of Ron unwillingly to stare at Hermione instead.

"Are you feeling for this filth?" she asked looking at her eyes.

Hermione looked straight back, forcing herself to think of her initial days at Grimmauld Place. The memory of Ron holding her with her arms pinned at her back and then another where he barged away from the room shutting the door hard behind him flashing in her head before she looked away.

"You'll kill him and all our hopes of catching the actual person the Dark Lord wants will be washed away. You may be a slave to your childish fancies, Bellatrix but I focus on the facts. We need him- alive and sane enough to give us answers," she replied.

The witch glared at her and she looked back impassively keeping her mind closed. Finally, the older woman turned away after shooting two spells at Ron that caused the chains at his wrist to crack leaving deep gashes on his arm while his body collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"Come on, we'll return when he is awake again," called Malfoy Senior and she took in a deep breath that hurt her already hurting chest region.

"He is bleeding," she said, it still didn't seem like her voice.

"So? He is a traitor, what does his blood mean?"

"Nothing. But he'll die if he continues to bleed like that. And that... will be a waste."

She could feel his grey eyes on her but she continued to look at Ron's inert form and after a while, heard the old man scream for Pettigrew. Mild words were exchanged as the other man arrived, and as the short,stout man raised his wand, she stopped him with a gesture.

"Give me your wand," she ordered.

"Why should I?" he asked, his words coming out like a squeak.

She glared in his direction, allowing her pent up fury to surface for once and noticed the man take a few steps back before grudgingly handing her the wood.

She rolled the wand in between her fingers for a while before setting a couple of healing spells at Ron's wrist. The wounds sealed and she shot a Rennervating spell.

"What-" half yelled Malfoy Senior at her action.

"What is the point of inflicting pain if he doesn't feel it?" She asked. That seemed to satisfy the old Death Eater and he gave her a sick smile. She gestured for the men to walk ahead of her and leave while she extinguished the flames drowning the cell in darkness.

When the men were a few paces ahead, she utilised the darkness to cast a couple of non-verbal healing spells towards Ron. They would not heal him altogether but would ease his pain, if only a little.

Just before she left the cell, she thought she heard a faint whisper, "Harry-"

...

Far away in a Chateau, a tiny object, which lay forgotten on a large dining table, repeated the sound in a small resonating whisper –

" Harry..."

A/N: Please, please, please review and tell me you'll still be reading.