A/N: First of all, a shout out to all my readers from places around the world that are going through severe unrest now. I have almost given up watching the news because I can't take it anymore. Please keep safe and strong. Lots of love to all of you.

Huge thanks to all my readers for keeping up with this story and giving it so much love. Don't worry, I won't abandon this. It was extremely hard to begin writing the torture scenes and hence the thought.

This chapter is high on angst, and I am sorry for that. But this story was always going to be heavy on the darker side. I guess, I have crossed the five chapter limit I had set for myself. Something happens when I sit down to write and it all comes together in its own way. There is going to be another 3 for sure.

Warning: HEAVY ANGST. PLEASE BE BRAISED.

All Character Rights belong to J K Rowling.

Chapter 49: Let Me Die a Little for You

As the hazy figures moved out of the room and the heavy door of his cell closed again, Ron struggled to straighten the limbs that were bent in painful angles under his torso. In fact, his entire body was nothing more than a mass of muscles and bones that felt almost dislodged from his self. The strong tremors that had been rocking his body were no longer there, but faint traces of the same seem to shoot through his muscles at sudden intervals; they felt nothing less than hot shards of iron forced into his skin. They burned the path they took, leaving behind uncontrollable convulsions in their wake. Every cut, every bruise felt as if on fire, and nothing, not even the bitterly cold stone floor took away the burn. His heart beat so thunderously in his chest that Ron was sure it would finish all the beats due soon enough and stop. His head was splitting into two and a staggering unease was pushing its way through his abdomen from somewhere deep within.

His breath got more laboured as the discomfort rose higher and he involuntarily managed to lift himself up only to throw up violently. The bile scorched his already weakened food pipe that had been scratched raw by his screams. The effort that his body put in to get rid of the bile from his system drew out the last strains of strength left in him causing him to collapse barely an inch away from his own mess. He would not have cared anyway; he was way too exhausted to bother.

Heavy breaths came out in gasps out of his parted mouth as the rough floor scratched against his already burning cheeks. His clothes were soaked, with blood, grime or sweat he did not know, perhaps all of them. Ron lay there without making any effort to straighten his arms and closed his eyes as every single space on his body seem to yell and scream.

He was expecting the pain from the moment Bellatrix had come in, but what made it worse was his bonds. With every spell she threw at him, his body curved as if boiling lava was being poured into his very veins. He knew he would have been thrashing away and writhing if those heavy chains were not holding him up. His entire weight had been on his arms which were already tired and had no strength left to hold him upright. Each new spell made the pain worse. He was not even sure why she stopped or when for that matter. Everything was getting fuzzy, faces and words and plans. He held on for one thing – Harry; Harry had to get out, Harry had to finish this.

He was not even aware when she stopped; perhaps he had passed out by then. He only faintly registered when there was a new kind of pain- that of his skin ripping at the wrists before his body was allowed to collapse on the floor. He heard nothing; voices if any were only a buzz in his ears. But then, there was a faint moment when warmth had tinged his senses, he felt more aware like a spell had washed over him, and, just like that, the pain had come into focus once more; this time with all its fury.

He moved with difficulty. With his eyes still closed, Ron felt his wrists. The jumper was soaked, with blood he was sure, and he tried staunching the wound by pressing his left wrist with his right palm. It took immense effort and the hands didn't seem to be cooperating with his brain, but he pushed on. However, when he finally managed to touch, in place of the extreme pain he expected along with the open wound, he found skin- sensitive and raw but skin nonetheless.

He felt on the other arm and found the same; the wounds had been closed. At least, it meant he was not going to bleed to death...yet. The unease in his abdomen was beginning to stew again and once more, the muscles of his stomach churned out more bile that burned his mouth. This time, he collapsed onto the mess, unable to move.

...

Hermione had no memory when she reached her room. She closed the heavy door behind her and walked mechanically towards the bed. The huge mirror reflected her ghostly form and she glanced at it without recognising the girl who looked back at her. Standing in front of the mirror, away from the scrutinising eyes of the band of Death Eaters, she forced herself to breathe... and feel. Some part of her that was still functioning was trying push a scream out of her; a scream and howl that would mirror the ones that were still ringing in her ears. But not a whimper came out; the words and pain seemingly caught within her system and struggling for an escape, constricting her ribcage in their struggle. Ron's screams and the way his body writhed under the Cruciatus swam in front of her eyes, and no matter how hard her brain tried to release the pent up agony and give her some relief, her eyes remained dry. After a long while, she pulled up her sleeves to look at her slightly bruised but otherwise fairly unblemished skin. Her pale, unmarked face looked back at her with dead eyes. It reminded her of the innumerable scars on his face, the one wound that Bellatrix ripped open with her nails, the blood that oozed out of his wrist and soaked his jumper, the blood-soaked jeans ripped at his knees...

Drawing in a breath that did not fill up her lungs, she pulled open her long dress allowing it to drop in a pool at her feet. Still walking in a trance-like state, Hermione entered the bath and stood under the shower. She didn't bother to turn it hot. The cold water dropped on her skin, shards of ice that pricked like needles but it was the pain of it that gave her some relief. Perhaps, this way she would be able to feel a fraction of what he was feeling, perhaps this way, the invisible marks of Ron's blood would be washed off her skin...

I hope this one lasts longer than the last one. I hope to get a few more goes before he dies. It's more fun with the ones that are hard to break.

Bellatrix's casually thrown words came back to her and ran through her heart like a stake. It was not over yet. She would not stop. She would keep torturing him till he relented, or died.

And Ron would never relent...

The tears came then. Slowly, very slowly salty drops mixed with the water from the showers till they took the form of silent sobs that rocked her whole body causing her to collapse on the floor. Water continued to wash over her hunched form, the cold reaching somewhere deep within her.

...

It was past midnight but the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry still sat in his chair in his office. The portraits of all the old headmasters were softly snoring in the background. They had learnt to sleep with the candles still burning in the brackets. The Headmaster hardly slept. Tonight was no different.

Severus Snape watched the timepiece that depicted the passing of yet another day. It was almost going to be a year now since he had killed his saviour, a year since the Dark Lord had ascended. The wizarding world had plunged into darkness, this time way denser than the previous time. And he was still waiting for the right time, waiting for this to end.

It was surprising that he noted the passing of days now. He had stopped watching for a new day since Lily died. One day was just the same as the next- void and lonely. But now, he found himself waiting, for her son, waiting to pass on the memories he had been holding on for years. But the reason of his sleeplessness was not Potter. It was his guilt, the very same fire that had been burning his soul since that Halloween night years ago. He never forgave himself for what he did- caused her death, and he would never forgive himself till the day he died.

Severus Snape was getting tired now. Tired of his mask, tired of the constant lies he lived. How much longer would he have to wait? How much longer would Potter take to finish whatever task Dumbledor had left him with? And, most importantly, would he get the chance to pass on the message the old Headmaster had asked him to?

The Dark Lord was getting more powerful by the day now. The dark forces were spreading all over, strangulating every bit of light they could find. Few remained in the open now, most preferring to go into hiding with their families. Only hours ago, Ginny Weasley had been called out of school under the pretext of a family emergency. He was no fool; the youngest Weasley female was not going to return in a hurry.

Sudden flare up in the floo drew his attention away from his musings. He turned around to watch the pitiful face of Lucius Malfoy bobbling in the grate. There was something sparkling in his grey eyes, a gleam of elation, and his senses were on alert immediately.

Anything that made Lucius Malfoy happy could not be good news.

"Severus," called the elder man excitedly as his long, now lustreless hair frayed around him in the gentle breeze of the fire.

"Lucius," he replied, casually walking over to the grate. "To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you? And at this hour no less?" he asked slightly amused.

The barely concealed excitement was pouring out of the Death Eater.

"I want to bring Draco home," he replied with ill concealed glee.

Snape raised a brow. "At this hour? May I ask, what is the urgency? It seems to be some kind of good news."

Lucius made a weak attempt to hide his excitement before snapping back, "Why do I have to provide a reason? I want my son home, right now!"

Snape looked him with disinterest, but when he replied there was ice in his words. "I am afraid that's not plausible right now. I cannot allow a student to leave school without a proper reason."

The pale old wizard looked like he had been slapped, "How dare you talk to me like that!" he bellowed and Snape turned his cold eyes on him.

"You'd better hold your voice, Lucius. In case you have forgotten, you do not enjoy the favours of our Lord anymore,"

Malfoy Senior looked mutinous. The gleam in his eyes simmered and after what seemed to be a major internal conflict, he opened his mouth. "Bella's goons found Potter's sidekick and Hermione Granger," he said haltingly, clearly displeased on having given away this priced piece of information.

"Really?" responded Snape without letting his mask drop which was not such a difficult task for him. However, he was feeling extremely annoyed.

What was Albus even thinking letting that buffoon take the task of protecting Hermione?

"So what is Draco's role in this?" he asked and Lucius looked even more displeased.

"I told you, I need him," he answered in a gruff.

"Why Lucius? If I am not wrong, you have not informed the Dark Lord about it. Surely you know what he desires?"

Lucius' eyes snapped up to meet his dark ones.

"Granger is in my house. She was betrothed to Draco," he replied and when Snape arched his eyebrows he haltingly added, "...almost, but then her parents died. But that doesn't matter, the decision of their union was made a long time ago!" he added urgently as the mad gleam in his eyes intensified.

"So it's all about her inheritance then, isn't it?" grinned Snape and Lucius glared at him, hard.

"But how do you know she has not changed alliances yet?" he asked.

"She hasn't, she has been fooling the Order, and even if she has, the wedding can still happen," snapped the older man.

"Yes, she can marry Draco and then you will inherit her entire wealth. Even if she is lying and is killed, it won't matter..." he voiced aloud. "Impressive Lucius, very Slytherin of you. Just that, I thought you had enough gold in your vaults to worry about these petty things," he added.

"Things are not the same," huffed Lucius. "Now, get me Draco,"

"I will, tomorrow after his classes. But first, I want to see if she is indeed true to our cause," Snape replied, moving over to take his place back in his chair.

"You see Lucius, unlike you my intensions are not personal but completely dedicated to the Dark Lord's cause."

...

Hermione stepped outside with great caution, her footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor. It was way past midnight and the Manor was in total darkness. Her breath was deep and slow. She was not new to this place. For years she had been a visitor over the summer holidays, she knew this place in out. She released a soft breath. There was always a possibility of someone guarding the corridors but she had to keep her cover on. She could always say she was going to the Library.

She had spent so long in the shower that the cold had percolated to her very bones. But then something miraculous happened. Hermione didn't know where or how she found the strength to rise up, but she did. She had to get Ron out... or die trying. Suddenly her head was clear. If she died, the charm on the Chateau would break, because there would be no more owners. And Harry would be free. So, either she would return with Ron, or she would not return at all.

They had snatched away every she had- her family, her home. She would not lose Ron to them.

There was still no wand and undoubtedly the Manor was heavily warded. But she had to get Ron out of that cell and perhaps she could hide him off somewhere? Hermione was still not clear about it. But one thing she knew for sure- she had to see him. Her thoughts went back once more to his torture. It would have been so much better for him if she had not Rennervated him. But Hermione couldn't help it. She had to see the movement in his arms, no matter how feeble; she had to ensure he was still alive...

As she tiptoed out of the long hallway and passed three more corridors and a couple of staircases, the thundering in her heart increased. She was almost close to the dungeons now, just another turn... It was then she saw the movement.

The steps that began at the end of the last corridor glowed with a faint light. And there was definitely someone there, guarding the steps, someone with a silver hand...

She stood hidden behind a long tapestry weighing her options. She could go now and raise suspicion or she could wait till the early hours of the morning when Pettigrew would surely be drowsy after the night long guard. Maybe she could also nick his wand...

She took a few steps back, hiding further and melting with the darkness.

There was no telling how long she was hidden but it was almost when her tired eyes had begun to droop that there was another set of steps coming in from the other side. She pulled in her breath and pressed herself as far back against the wall as she could. The heavy steps got closer and her heart thudded madly in her chest. There was a very strong whiff of tobacco and firewhisky and the footsteps crossed her to reach the other end.

"Dolohov, about time," came one voice she recognised as Pettigrews.

"Yeah, anything?" asked the man named Dolohov.

"Nothing," replied the former with a gruff laugh, "She plays enough with them to make them pass out."

There was a combined laughter.

"Go off then," responded Dolohov after a while, and her heart sank. Change of guards. There was still a bit of murmur and quite unwillingly Hermione retraced back her steps quickly before Pettigrew crossed her hideout point.

She remained in the shadows as much as she could. But the path back to her room felt way too long. She had been driven by the thought of seeing Ron, but now there was nothing to look forward to. But she had to think of something. They had to get away. She chanted the words like a mantra; she needed this one thought to keep her going.

She was a couple of corridors away from hers when a voice made her stop. She hated that more than anything in the big wide world. Bellatrix Lestrange was talking to someone. With her palms sweating she inched closer to the door which was slightly ajar. But the silence of the Manor meant she could roughly make out the voices. It seemed the wicked witch was furiously arguing with someone.

"I know what I am doing Rod," she hissed dangerously.

"No, you are not, Bella! The Dark Lord wanted this to be kept in our vault!" admonished the man and Hermione wracked her brains to put a name to that voice.

"I will keep this at our Manor!" she screeched back but not too loudly. "This is our Lord's," she said as if in reverence, "It will grace our home!"

"You are being insane! Don't raise the Dark Lord's ire, Bella. You know what he does to those who go against his wishes!"

"He asked me to keep it safe! I will move it to our Manor! And who is brave enough to lay his feet on my Manor?" she hissed back.

"Don't be over confident! Lucius has lost favours, the Grangers died!" beseeched the man, and as Hermione's heart stopped hearing her parents' name, Bella gave out a bone chilling laugh.

"It was such a pleasure burning down that Mansion of theirs, wasn't it Rodolphus? Pity I missed her though!"

"I heard she is here?"

"Yes," the witch spat venomously, "I can't wait to get my hands on her... No one takes my place, Rod... No one..."

...

He apparated beyond the gates of the Malfoy Manor in the wee hours of dawn, and quickly made his way towards the palatial building. Whatever little sleep he could have had had been snatched away by Lucius' declaration.

He was welcomed as usual by a bandaged elf and Lucius walked out of the parlour within minutes. The old man had not lost the sickening grin from the previous night.

No pleasantries were exchanged. He was swift to point out that he was only there to check on Granger and her supposed alliance with the Dark side. Soon a group of four were making their way towards the infamous Malfoy dungeons.

Hermione, his once favourite student, had given him only a curt nod and calculative eye, answering his queries sharply with quick retorts. To his immense surprise he had noted that her Occulemency skills were sharp enough to keep him away. It only meant grave news, either for the Dark Lord or Dumbledore, he could not decide who.

Finally he had expressed his desire to see Weasley and Hermione had asked permission to go back to her quarters stating that she had more important things to do than visit the stinking hole, but he had disagreed.

As they descended down the winding stairway, lurking behind the overexcited forms of Lucius and Bellatrix, he focused his attention on the young woman walking right ahead of him.

Hermione Granger was no stranger to him. He had known her from the time she was eleven. Outwardly she looked just the same, poised, stiff and impassive but he wanted to see her in presence of Weasley. Despite his immense disgust towards Dumbledor's two favourite students Potter and his best mate, he had to grudgingly accept that he was not afraid of Weasley betraying Potter. He was an arrogant prat but there was infinitely less chance of him jeopardizing Dumbledore's plans; he couldn't say the same for Hermione.

However, how much of Bellatrix's games the ginger could take without caving in was still a question.

The heavy cell doors were pushed open and he lit the torches he knew were placed inside. The young man that lay inside looked nothing like he remembered. In fact, had he not known him for years he would not even have recognised the mass of bloodied long limbs that lay at the foot of the wall.

The figure on the floor stirred at the noise and with immense effort pushed himself to a sitting position. The heavily bruised and scared face took in all his new guests, his eyes lingering just a heart beat more on the face of the girl of his age, and Snape turned around to watch her as well. Granger looked back expressionlessly. He watched Lucius notice him and shoot a wicked grin at Hermione's lack of reaction. However, it was that precise thing stirred the doubt in his heart.

Finally, Weasley's glance fell on him and those blue orbs got steadily bigger till he pushed himself further straight.

"YOU!" he screeched in a broken voice and coughed immediately. Bellatrix had done significant damage to his body but seemed like she had not even dented his shield.

"Eager today to give us some news, Weasel?" grinned Bellatrix running her dirty fingers over the long wood in her hands.

"You wish," he sneered. His voice was weak but harsh.

"Seems like the little boy needs a little more persuasion, Severus?" asked Bella in a sickeningly sweet voice and he shrugged his shoulders.

"No Cruciatus, Bella. He will be a waste if that mind goes insane," he advised softly.

Bellatrix raised up her brow, "Surprisingly the girl said the same thing yesterday,"

"You don't exactly have a reputation of playing nice with your toys Bella," chuckled Lucius in the background. For a minute he thought he saw Hermione flinch but then she was stoic as ever and he looked back at the boy.

Bellatrix cheered gleefully. A spell shot out from her wand and he was thrown back at the wall. Ronald collided heavily with the stone barrier with a sickening crunch and dropped on the floor in an untidy heap. The witch gave out a merry laugh watching as the boy took deep breaths that seemed to shake his whole body. But then, he pushed himself onto his knees and glared back. Bella let out a loud ugly cackle and shot another curse, this time definitely cracking a few bones.

And so it began...

Snape noticed Lucius move his eager eyes between him and the form of the bleeding boy in front of them.

Quite grudgingly he had to accept that Ronald Weasley was showing courage true to his house. His form still bore ample signs of the torture he had faced the previous day and yet, he was putting up a brave fight against Bellatrix's ingenious torture routine. So far, Weasley had faced spells that ranged from slicing his chest to those that made him choke up till his face almost became blue.

He, however, stopped Bellatrix each time she got close enough to killing him. Shoot out a spell that eased the choking boys breathing, "Killing him will only cut your pleasure and our objectives short, Bella," he admonished soundly as the witch gave him a dirty look.

Despite all her efforts, however, Bella could not damage the fire that shone in the boy's eyes- it just got brighter, fiercer.

But his main concentration was elsewhere. He turned slightly towards his favourite student, taking in her stoic form. She was indifferent as she watched, way too inert. It could either mean she hated Weasley more than he hated James Potter, or...

"What do you think?" asked Lucius once the game was over and he was inside the Malfoy's old business room.

"Hmm, interesting. My guess was correct all along. She indeed is the brightest of her age." He replied. The sickening smile on Lucius' face got wider.

"I'll send Draco," he added before taking his leave, and the old man chuckled wickedly behind him.

"By the way, Lucius, if you must know, Ronald Weasley did have an eye on Granger for a long time. She might not like him but Dumbledore placed her under his guard, for over a year... A lot could have happened." He snickered wickedly before closing the door behind him.

...

Severus Snape apparated away but did not return to the school. Instead, he reached a small canopy of trees that had somehow survived the encroachment of muggle developers despite the passing decades. He had not visited this place in years.

Standing in a small clearing where once he had spent some of the most beautiful afternoons of his life, he allowed the mask to fall for once.

Dumbledore's words seem to come to him from beyond his grave. The wizen old man's ideas that Love was the most powerful weapon, that Ronald Bilius Weasley was the right choice for her guard, that sometimes he wondered if they sort too soon...

He had seen her deadpan eyes before she left for her room, they reminded him too much of his own image- of his guilt.

He could do nothing for them without risking his cover. Her only chance of rescue from the evil plot Lucius was brewing was putting a doubt in the old bastard's mind about her 'purity' to fit in the Malfoy family...

...

Draco walked into his father's room after a brief knock.

"You called for me, Father," he stated impassively looking at the man he once used to look up to.

"Draco, son," he responded enthusiastically, "I have a task for you. Don't fail me this time..."

A/N: I always try keeping the characters (not just the lead ones) true to their self in a story. I have to admit here that personally, I neither love Snape nor hate him all together. Apologies for the torture scenes but they had to get a little more detailed. I hate myself for putting Ron through this.

Please do review.