Obliviate

Chapter Five | A Broken Soul

Hermione shook in fear at the tall man stood before her, his wand pointed directly at her face.

She knew if she screamed, nobody in the dungeons would care, let alone hear. Nobody came to the dungeons anymore, which left Hermione vulnerable.

Her hands trembled and she felt her palms get clammy as she stood in shock.

Even if she'd wanted to escape, it had already proven too difficult for her to even open the door - and she had no wand.

She was useless.

The sun had set, as Hermione's room was dimly lit by the candles that hung from the chandelier. Anybody who would've been around, would now be far away from the dungeons. Her stomach churned like the oceans waves crashing into one-another during a storm, she feared if she moved, she would vomit.

Dolohov crept closer to Hermione, causing her to frantically shuffle further back on her mattress, as if she'd hoped she'd been able to escape.

He stared at her devilishly with his one eye, the other concealed behind a patch. He was equally terrifying to have in her presence as he was to look at. Hermione thought him to be a monster.

"Not so clever now, are you Mudblood?" He spat at her, saliva spraying from his lips.

He continued to walk over to Hermione at a slow pace, one foot directly in front of the other as though he was sneaking up on her, ready to pounce. His robes slithered against the floorboards beneath him, and his shoes lightly scuffed against the wood.

Hermione slammed her back against the headboard, and brought knees up to her chest in fear, like it would protect her.

He let out a low, evil laugh that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. His face twisted with hatred, as he finally closed in on her.

He now stood at the side of the mattress, only inches away from grabbing her. Hermione tightened her grip around her legs, in hopes that the smaller she made herself look, the less he'd want to come closer.

But it did not work.

Dolohov's large, dirty hand flew towards Hermione, grabbing her right arm tightly, his blackened fingernails digging into her skin.

She winced under his touch and had to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. Afraid that if she fought back he'd make it all the worse for her, she tried not to struggle as he dragged her across the bed and towered over her, her heart beating out of her chest.

He quickly reached out and got ahold of Hermione's left arm, twisting his long, chubby fingers around her, as if pulling it into some kind of sick embrace.

Her eyes darted to his sleeve, which had been rolled up, revealing just the bottom of his dark mark. The thin, black lines wriggled slowly in his skin, slithering back and forth like the scales of a snake.

The dark magic seemed to have engulfed him, he reeked of it. If Hermione could see it, she'd knew it would fall off him, gracefully like a waterfall. But - it was furthest from graceful - more like a serpents venom - once she'd been touched by it, it would seep deeply into her veins, and spread like a wildfire.

He was everything Harry never wanted to be.

Dark. Evil. Disgusting. Ruthless.

His grip on her arms tightened, and Hermione felt his nails dig deeper into her pale skin.

He was inches away from her face, and she could feel his hot breath on her skin. His breath smelt stale, like he was slowly dying from the inside-out, making Hermione turn her face quickly to face away from him.