A/n: Well, we're back with Hermione, and it gets…interesting…. Anyway: WARNING, my mind is scary and has decided to write gruesome stuff, and some of it could be in this chapter.
Disclaimer: I'm not even J.K Rowling in my dizziest daydreams (see what I did there?).
The silence was beginning to drive Hermione mad. All she could hear was her own breathing, even when she was only breathing out of her nose. Hermione felt like the silence was going to swallow her whole, and that the silence would be the death of her, and not the crazy Death Eaters who wanted her dead. She wanted to pull out her wand and do some sort of spell to make her small prison a little noisy, but she felt that the Death Eaters would hear her. The dirty stone prison had a very loud echo, and she knew that her evil captors could probably hear the echo of every sound that she made in her cell, and she tried to make some sort of sound every few minutes to break the silence. Sometimes she tapped her nails on the stone, sometimes she would whistle, and sometimes she would hum a short note or two, but she was scared to do more than that, in case her captors felt the need to beat the crap out of her for making noise.
Right when Hermione was beginning to think that the silence was driving her crazy, she heard a loud bang. Then another, and another. It sounded like a bunch of spells hitting off the walls, as if there was a huge fight being fought in the stone hallways. Hermione quickly jumped up from where she was sitting, and ran toward the door, hoping to hear some voices of any clue as to what was going on. The bangs were getting louder and louder, as if they were coming towards her. Hermione smiled widely with new hope that it was Ron or Harry fighting their way towards Hermione's cell, coming to free her. She began to imagine Harry running in and hugging her as tightly as possible, spinning her around and yelling about how they had finally found her, and Ron kissing her with everything he had in him. Hermione felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks as she thought of seeing her two boys again. Then, she heard two of her captors voices, screaming in pain. It sounded like the jerk who's name began with 'ARI' and the girl. Hermione felt the need to jump up and down with excitement, knowing that someone was here to save her. There were more bangs and booms of spells ricocheting off the walls and they sounded like they were right outside the metal door of Hermione's prison.
Then, there was a loud scream that wasn't from one of her captors. Hermione's eyes widened, knowing the voice. She backed away from the door and her back hit the back wall. Hermione felt her stomach turn into knots and her head start to feel dizzy. She realized it wasn't a rescue, it was another kidnapping. She felt more tears fall from her face as she thought of the boy who was about to be thrown into her cell and probably tortured just like Hermione was. She felt like it was going to kill her to see it. Hermione shook her head, denying that the voice she heard belonged to one of her closest friends, denying that he was in a huge fight and now losing, denying that he was captured.
The metal door opened quickly with a loud creak, a boy was thrown into the cell, and the door was closed just as quickly. Hermione ran forward to her friend, who was face-down on the stone floor, and he groaned loudly. She turned him over so that he was now in his back, and Hermione looked into his familiar face. His eyes were open, thankfully, and he was looking around. Then, his eyes rested on Hermione's wet, brown ones.
"Hermione?" He asked, as if he wasn't sure if Hermione was a figure of his imagination, or if she was really there.
"Hey Neville," Hermione replied with a small, watery smile.
Neville lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Hermione, hugging her tightly. Hermione, not expecting the sudden embrace, fell backwards with Neville ending up on top of her. Then, Neville gasped in pain, his face turning white and his eyes widening. He rolled off Hermione so he was laying on the floor again, face up.
"Neville? Are you okay? What hurts?" Hermione asked softly, her voice filled with concern.
"I'm-fine," Neville grunted as he tried to sit up, but his face turned white, again.
"Lay down Neville! What hurts? I can probably heal you," Hermione said as she crawled over to the corner that her wand was lying in.
"How did you get that?" Neville asked loudly.
"Shh! Don't scream it out to the world," Hermione whispered.
"Sorry," Neville said, grinning sheepishly.
"So, what hurts?"
"My chest. There used some spell on me…" Neville trailed off as he looked down at his chest.
Hermione looked down, and for the first time noticed that his shirt was covered in blood.
"Neville, I have to take off your shirt, okay?" Hermione said, still speaking in a soft, contorting voice.
Neville nodded and Hermione gently pulled his shirt over his head, Neville grunted and groaned with the movement. Hermione looked down at his chest and saw three long, deep cuts going vertical across his torso and many smaller scrapes and cuts around them.
"Merlin…" Hermione trailed off as she kept staring at Neville's cuts.
"What?" Neville asked, his voice shaky and scared. He tried to sit up slightly so he could look at his chest.
"Don't do that," Hermione instructed as she gently put a hand on his forehead and pushed his head back down to the floor.
Hermione looked back down at the cuts on Neville's chest, trying to decide what spell to use. Then, she decided that she should heal them the muggle way: stitches. She waved her wand and a needle and thread appeared, and a bottle of alcohol to clean his cuts.
"Neville, this is going to hurt. A lot." Hermione warned.
Neville sighed and grimaced, "I'll live. You do what you have to do."
"Here's the thing, though. You can't scream too loudly." Hermione said, trying to figure out a way to make sure he won't scream. She didn't want the Death Eaters to hear and then come running in. She looked around for some sort of inspiration, and saw Neville's shirt. "Alright, you have to put this in your mouth, and bite down hard instead of scream, okay?" Hermione said, picking up the shirt gingerly. Neville nodded and Hermione stuffed it into his mouth.
Then, Hermione picked up the both of alcohol, ready to pour it on Neville's chest to clean the wounds.
"Ready?" She asked shakily. Hermione really didn't want to sow Neville's skin together or pour alcohol into his body.
Neville nodded curtly, signaling Hermione to start.
Hermione let out a long breath, and began pouring the alcohol on Neville's wounds. Neville's screams were muffled by his shirt, but they still cut through Hermione. He was kicking his legs and flailing his arms around his sides. Hermione grabbed one of his hands, hoping to give him some sort of comfort as she started to pour the alcohol into the second cut. He squeezed it tightly, so tightly that Hermione almost yelped. She kept muttering how sorry she was to Neville for putting him through this, and she kept praying that he would pass out because of the pain. Hermione finally finished cleaning out the three large cuts, but Neville was still screaming and grasping Hermione's hand tightly.
"I know, I'm so sorry," Hermione said, feeling tears starting to fall from her cheeks. She took off her light cotton jacket and used her wand to rip it, so that she could dap Neville's cuts. Neville started kicking his legs harder and his muffled screams got louder.
"Shh, Neville. I know it hurts. I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, glancing toward his face. Neville's eyes were squinted shut, brows furrowed. He looked so pain-filled that it almost killed Hermione. She stopped dapping the cuts, let go of Neville's hand, and took out the needle and thread.
"Neville, this is going to hurt, probably even more than that just did. I'll try to be quick." Hermione said, putting the thread through the needle with shaky hands. Hermione started to thread Neville's skin back together. She weaved the needle in and out. Neville's muffled screams were louder than ever, and Hermione kept trying to stop her tears from falling from her face and into Neville's wounds. Hermione felt that every kick of Neville's legs or every yelp was a dagger through her.
When she finally finished stitching Neville up, she felt a surge or relief to see that Neville had passed out, but he was alive. Hermione let out a breath she didn't know that she had been holding in. She was so happy to see that Neville would be fine. She leaned forward and took the shirt out of Neville's mouth and draped it over his chest to conserve his body heat. She had come to learn that it could become very cold in the cell that she had been living in.
A/n: Don't hate me! Please! I needed someone to be in with Hermione, and I thought of Neville, and it kinda seemed perfect…
Don't hate me!
Review and all that jazz, pretty please