Harry and Ron had been dragged down a flight of stairs, down into the cavernous dungeon under the manor. The only one who remained in the drawing room was Hermione. It was just her and Bellatrix in the center of the room. Lucius and Narcissa stood quietly at the wall watching Bellatrix cast curse after curse at Hermione.
Hermione Granger's screams echoed through the dark, stone chamber, mingling with the cold, malevolent laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her body arched in agony as the Cruciatus Curse pulsed through her veins, setting every nerve on fire. She had never imagined pain like this—sharp, unrelenting waves that seared through her muscles and bone, leaving her gasping for breath.
But she wouldn't scream their names. No matter what Bellatrix did, she wouldn't give her the satisfaction. She couldn't. If she gave in, if she so much as whispered "Harry" or "Ron," it would be over.
"Please!" she cried out, her voice breaking on the word. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting down hard on her lip. Blood welled up where her teeth broke the skin, the coppery taste mixing with the salt of her tears. "Please, stop!"
Bellatrix's smile was twisted, her dark eyes gleaming with a manic glee. "Please?" she mocked, drawing out the word as she leaned closer. "Please, Mudblood?" She spat the last word like a curse, her wand digging into Hermione's shoulder, sending another blinding jolt of pain through her. "You'll have to do better than that, dear."
The Cruciatus Curse lifted for a heartbeat, but Hermione's body continued to tremble uncontrollably, her limbs twitching from the aftershocks. She tried to curl in on herself, but Bellatrix's iron grip on her arm forced her upright. Her vision swam, black spots dancing before her eyes, and for a moment, she almost gave in—almost begged for mercy.
"Is it him?" Bellatrix hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "Is it Potter?"
Hermione shook her head frantically, gasping for breath. "No," she whimpered, voice raw from screaming. "It's not Harry. I swear—"
"Liar!" Bellatrix shrieked, her face contorting with fury. She struck Hermione across the face, sending her sprawling onto the cold stone floor. Hermione tasted blood again, her head spinning. She tried to push herself up, but her arms gave out beneath her, shaking uncontrollably.
Bellatrix loomed over her, her shadow long and menacing against the flickering torchlight. "If you won't talk," she murmured, her voice almost soft, "then I'll just have to make sure you remember who you are."
She drew a long, thin knife from the folds of her robes. Its blade shimmered in the dim light, wickedly sharp, and Hermione's heart clenched in terror. There was something wrong with it—something dark and malevolent. A curse hummed in the air around the blade, vibrating with a magic that felt oily and suffocating.
"Hold still, little Mudblood," Bellatrix cooed, kneeling beside her. She grabbed Hermione's arm, forcing her onto her back, and pressed the tip of the knife against her skin. Hermione's breath hitched, a whimper escaping her lips.
"Please…" she whispered, the word barely audible.
"Shh," Bellatrix whispered, her smile widening. "This won't take long."
Then she began to carve.
The pain was indescribable, unlike any spell Hermione had ever felt. The knife bit into her skin, slicing deep and slow. It burned, the curse searing through her flesh as Bellatrix dragged the blade in deliberate, jagged lines. Hermione screamed, her back arching off the ground, every nerve in her body shrieking in agony.
"M… M—!" Bellatrix's voice sang out, low and delighted as she traced the first letter. "U… D… B… L—"
Hermione couldn't think, couldn't see—her vision blurred with pain and blood. She was nothing but a raw, open wound, her very soul screaming under the weight of the dark magic that pulsed through her.
Bellatrix laughed, the sound high and wild, as she finished the final curve of the "D."
"Do you see, Mudblood?" she whispered, leaning close to Hermione's ear. Her breath was hot and rancid, making Hermione's stomach twist. "This is who you are. This is all you will ever be."
"Stop—stop it, please!" The words tore from Hermione's throat, hoarse and broken. She struggled weakly, but her muscles spasmed uncontrollably, every inch of her body jerking and twitching from the lingering effects of the Cruciatus. Her skin was slick with blood, her entire arm a mass of raw, burning pain.
Bellatrix sighed in mock disappointment, wiping the blade clean on Hermione's torn sleeve. "Pity you won't tell me what I want to know," she mused. "But we'll have plenty of time to talk, won't we, darling? After all, Potter and your blood-traitor friend aren't going anywhere…"
A sudden commotion sounded from the dungeon's entrance. Bellatrix's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. The heavy door burst open, slamming against the wall, and Hermione flinched violently, her heart leaping into her throat.
"Bella!" Lucius Malfoy's voice rang out, tense and alarmed. "They've escaped! The boys—they're gone!"
Hermione's eyes widened. What—?
Bellatrix surged to her feet, her face twisted with rage. "What?" she spat, rounding on Lucius. "What do you mean, gone?"
"They—they overpowered the guard," Lucius stammered, his face ashen. "They had to be Potter and the Weasley boy—they must have found a way to break their bonds. They—"
Bellatrix's scream of fury was so shrill, so filled with murderous rage, that Hermione's entire body convulsed in response. "Find them!" Bellatrix shrieked, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "Find them, or I'll skin every last one of you alive!"
Lucius recoiled, nodding frantically as he turned and barked orders to the other Death Eaters. In seconds, the dungeon was a storm of chaos—shouts, curses, and the sound of footsteps pounding up the stone stairs.
They were gone. They'd escaped. They'd left her here.
The realization was a brutal, twisting knife in her gut. She was alone—bruised, bloody, and broken, every nerve in her body still twitching from the spells. Tears welled in her eyes, hot and unbidden, mixing with the blood that dripped from her chin.
No. They couldn't have just left her. They wouldn't—
Bellatrix's gaze swung back to her, dark and furious. "You," she snarled, stalking forward. " Now that I know you were lying to me. Where did they go?"
"I—I don't—" Hermione gasped, but her voice broke off into a sob as Bellatrix seized her hair, yanking her head back.
"I will break you," Bellatrix whispered, her voice low and deadly. "And then I'll bring them back. You'll watch, little Mudblood. You'll watch as I make them suffer for this."
Hermione closed her eyes, trembling uncontrollably, blood and tears mingling on her torn face. She was alone. She was alone, and she had no idea how to survive what was coming next.