she isn't what she says

Chapter 17: Mudbloods

"Why did you bring a mudblood into our house? I told you, no more strays." Narcissa teased them with only the slightest hint of edge in her voice. "Well well well, the Granger mudblood! We meet again." Valencia sneered, walking towards Hermione who tried to walk backwards displaying her fear of the other girl.

With a silent spell, Hermione let out a small shriek as was being hung by her ankles in the air. "Now, you filthy creature, there are several things I could do to you," Before she could react, Valencia stared into Hermione's eyes. For a second, she thought that Valencia was going to kill her. That was, before the pain and throbbing started to hit. Valencia was using legilimency to go through her thoughts.

"The thing guarding the Chamber of Secrets... is a dog? Named Fluffy? Who likes... harps? Harry, how are you feeling? Okay? The key is to concentrate. After that all you have to do is- Battle a dragon. Harry thinks that Malfoy has become a Death Eater."

She was skimming over her memories faster than the speed of light. Throughout the pulsating agony that was flowing through her head, she realized what Valencia was trying to do. Before Valencia could get any closer to the memories of the recent events of her lifetime, Hermione rid herself and her thoughts of emotion. As she voided her brain of the valuable information she stored, Hermione heard Valencia scream in rage. "Get off me you villain!" Hermione shrieked.

"Ouch. Villian. It's such a harsh word." Valencia smirked.

Valencia started to speak again before she was interrupted by her mother. 

"What is this? What happened Cissy, Valencia?" Her mother asked, whilst walking around the prisoners, and she stopped when she was in front of Hermione."They say they've got Harry Potter, mother."

"HARRY POTTER?" Bellatrix shrieked as she walked closer to Harry Potter. There was silence, "Ahh yes, famous Harry Potter." She spat as she wiped a single hair from his face, so she could see his scar. "PUT THE BOYS IN THE CELLAR!" Bellatrix suddenly ordered before turning to Hermione "I want to have a word with this one, girl to girl!" She shouted into the terrified girls face.

...

The cruciatus curse was black as it was shouted with hate from the mouth of Bellatrix Lestrange. It was black like tar, like the night sky when there was no moon. It was black like the evil it required for it to work.

"Tell me!" she shouted as she shot curse after curse at Hermione. "Tell me where did you get this! SNAPE PUT THAT SWORD IN MY VAULT! HOW DID YOU GET IT! TELL ME!" Hermione deflected another two curses and dove out of the way, "I DIDN'T TAKE IT!" Hermione shouted. However she hadn't noticed Valencia shooting a spell towards her which made Hermione fly into the air and making her stay there, not able to move or go back down to the floor.

"You'll regret it!" Hermione shouted, towards Valencia. "Why are you doing this?" Hermione tried to shout out, but only a squeak came out due to her experiencing pain in her lower abdomen. "We're the bad guys, It's what we do!"

"Crucio!" Bellatrix Lestrange shouted again, her deep red voice taking over the clearing. The red turned black as she laughed manically.

Agony. Pain. Black. Dark red. Hermione saw the darkest colours, colours she hadn't even known to exist, as Bellatrix continued. "Crucio!" she shouted again. Her dark red laugh echoed off the walls of the Manor. Hermione continued to scream which rang through everyone's insides.

Hermione could feel her mind slipping away, as she collapsed onto the floor. Weak. Hermione Granger lay on the floor, sobbing and close to broken. A dark shape hovered above her, blocking out the flickering light of the room she was in. She could not see, could not feel, could not breathe. At this point, she barely registered the bout of pain that coursed through her for perhaps the millionth time. The shape in front of her--a woman--screamed as her face contorted in pure loathing. No, Hermione realised, the woman hadn't screamed at all-- she had.

For a moment, the pain receded, and Hermione gasped a loud breath as her vision cleared. Bellatrix Lestrange was barely an centimetre from her face, the evil woman's wand skimming her cheek. "Fucking filthy mudblood," Lestrange spat, her spittle landing all over Hermione's face, but she didn't flinch. She couldn't have. She was frozen emotionally and mentally, trapped in a prison of her mind.

Then suddenly, the light was back, shining dimly from the ornate chandelier that hung above Hermione's head. Lestrange had moved away, leaving Hermione to cradle her arm dully, not registering the word that was inscribed there. She felt tears leaking from her eyes and spilling from her cheeks down onto her wrist. Then, suddenly, her eyes focused, and Hermione saw the red blood pulsing from her skin, making out crudely drawn writing. Mudblood . That's all she was. That's all she was.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lestrange bunch her fists in anger, and she remembered. The Death Eaters had been questioning her--no, torturing her--for information about Godric Gryffindor's sword, but she hadn't known a thing. Hermione still did not understand.

"She's worthless," Lestrange scoffed as she rolled down her sleeves. "Leave her." Hermione saw her heels click across the tile and join her sister, who was slightly shaking and gripping her son's shoulder for support. Draco Malfoy wore a torn expression on his face, his eyes in pain as he watched Hermione.

The Death Eaters retreated into the far corner of the sitting parlor, leaving Draco behind, standing there, struggling against an invisible barrier. He approached her cautiously, his hand quaking as he reached out for her hand. Hermione snatched it close to her, her lips curling into a snarl. "You left me to that evil woman," she spoke quietly, her voice hoarse. She extended her arm to him, revealing the red scrawl there.

Draco cringed and Hermione sneered at him, turning away. "Go join your little Death Eater friends," Hermione hissed. "Apparently, that's where you belong."

...

Draco found himself in his own basement, cold and damp and inhabited by prisoners of the Death Eaters. A dim light seemed to be hovering in the air a few metres away. He approached it cautiously before a familiar voice hissed at him.

"What are you doing down here, Malfoy?

It was Potter, slouched against the wall, his arm wrapped protectively around that Ravenclaw girl Loony Lovegood. Next to him, the old wandmaker Ollivander and the goblin Griphook glared at him. Ron Weasley's head lay in the Gryffindor Dean Thomas's lap. The darker boy was stroking Weasley's hair absentmindedly, and Draco felt a sudden desire to touch Hermione's bushy hair, to return to where she was on the cliff--but he had to prove his love to her.

"I am here to rescue you, Potter," Draco sneered. Old habits died hard, after all.

"But--what--?" Weasley asked confusedly. "Why would you--and how--?"

"There will be time to explain later," Draco said shortly. "Don't be thick and take my arm." He held out one robed limb apprehensively. The six of them took it, their faces as mutinous as his was. Together, they disapparated with a loud crack.