I absolutely loved writing for this prompt. There's just something about writing a darker, more serious fic that I find enjoyable.

It's nice to have a change. :)

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the characters, or even most of the ideas, seeing as I went along somewhat with a scene of the movie Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1. J.K. Rowling is the millionaire, not me.

Warning: This chapter contains DESCRIPTIVE TORTURE. If you are not old enough to be reading M rated fanfics, or you can not handle the graphicness, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER.

Prompt 5 Dark Room

One would assume that interrogation or torture would take place in a dark room. Possibly something like the interrogations in so many muggle films. A person sits, tied to a chair, in a pitch black room. A mix of emotions rampages over them: anger, confusion, anxiety, fear. The darkness of the room adds to the ominous, mysterious feeling in the air. Then a blinding white light flicks on, shining in their eyes. A flicker of relief can be seen in their body language, but their body quickly becomes tense as they realize this means they are not alone. Their captor is there, too.

But what if it wasn't a room black as pitch, but a bright, sunlit drawing room that was frequented by many? How would that change things?

This case was one of the second type. Misleading surroundings gave a slight hint of comfort when really there was none. It was the same type of situation as the first case, where one person was seeking information, but in this case the questioner had no ounce of mercy in their bones. She would do whatever it took to get the answers she sought. The questionee had no way to escape. It was outright torture with no regards of trying to hide it.

"Crucio!" came a screech from one side of the drawing room. Everyone knew that when anyone used an Unforgivable had to mean it, otherwise it would not be nearly as affective, if it even worked at all. This witch definitely did. Some say it becomes easier to use them with time. It would appear that they are correct.

Deep, guttaral screams echoed through the Manor as Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy looked on. One thinking it was much deserved, one wishing it would stop, one confused about their feelings toward the young witch.

Scream after scream was ripped from Hermione Granger's throat at the hands of a relentless Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Tell me how you got it! Did you break into my vault?" Bellatrix looked positively murderous.

When Hermione again gave the answer that she didn't know, Bellatrix let loose a sinister cackle.

"You stupid mudblood! That sword was meant to be in my vault at Gringotts! How. Did you. Get it?" she hissed, inching closer to the pitiful lump on the floor.

Hermione begged and pleaded, "I don't know! Please! Please! I don't know where-" she broke into sobs.

"Crucio!"

The knives were back. Every single one of them, all three million it felt like, was slowly peeling away her skin. Inch by inch her flesh was being separated from the muscle underneath. When would it stop? She could hear the ripping, shreading, grating sound along with the voice in her head reverberating in her ears.

Her arms. WHY?

Her legs. Please!

Her stomach. When will this end?

Her face. It'll never stop.

Even the skin on her eyelids steadily parted from it's owner. I'm going to die.

She clawed at her own body in a feable attempt to stop the pain. Her hands felt wet and sticky from the blood she drew herself. It was pure agony. Hermione had no doubt in her mind that she was going to die. Her screams of anger, agony, and aggravation got louder and louder. It felt like years that she was being tortured in this manner, but a few seconds later, the knives were whisked away, causing her no more anguish.

Hermione's breathing was ragged. Her body shook in the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. She may have been pleading for mercy, but she was in Gryffindor for a reason. Hermione would die if it meant keeping a secret from a Death Eater. No question, no hesitation.

"Stand up you filth! I want you to look me in the eye when I slowly drain the life from yours."

Hermione gasped for breath. A pain shot through her entire body every time she tried to move. Her eyes were squeezed shut as if to try and repel the pain. She staggered to her knees, then made a feeble attempt to stand. Once on her feet, she swayed heavily.

As she opened her eyes, the brightness of the room made her wince and suck in a breath. Pain hit her like a bullet once again. Hermione thought she might vomit, but she fought the urge with constant vigilance. She raised her heated gaze to the psychotic witch before her.

"You will tell me what you know, mudblood! Or I will torture you within an inch of your life. You will be begging me for death. Then darling Draco can finish you off," Bellatrix cackled, but Draco blanched at the words and gulped, his eyes looking worried.

Hermione felt a surge of Gryffindor courage coarse through her veins. The pain lessened slightly, and she found she could breath with less of a problem. Hermione would not give up that easily. She licked her cracked, bleeding lips and gave a smirk worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself.

"Is that the best you've got?" she managed to sneer, her voice hoarse from screaming. Hermione Granger was, indeed, a Gryffindor.

I have always thought Hermione's outspoken, brave actions were what defined her. Along with her intelligence, of course. She is one of my favorite characters as she is such a role model for young girls everywhere.

I really hope you like this. Give me some feedback and let me know!

Thank you for reading!

xoxo Princess