Devil Doesn't Bargain

The Cell

Hermione had always been curious about the cruciatus curse. She hated things that were only presented as theory during school. Even in the Restricted Section of the library, books only vaguely described the unforgivable as 'unimaginable pain, beyond human reasoning'. She had scoffed at the description. Everything could be reasoned through if studied enough. It was infuriating how hesitant professors were on the subject of unforgivables; even Mad-Eye Moody wouldn't give her a straight answer, and the question had plagued her for years. Well. Until now, she supposed.

"Crucio."

Here was her answer: It was being stabbed by a thousand knives; it was being burned at the stake. It was blood-boiling, skin-peeling, eye-gouging pain. Every breath scalded, and every beat of her heart was an electric shock.

Time had no meaning. It may have been seconds...it may have been hours. Her mind couldn't seem to focus on any one detail other than the pain. Pain. Like nothing she had ever known...with every searing nerve, she saw images of her friends dying in her mind. With every shattering bone, she heard her parents' screams. Visions of the world aflame washed over her and all she could hear was that laugh, always ravaging her ear canals.

Someone was screaming endlessly. Why couldn't they be quiet? Didn't they realize Hermione was in enough discomfort as it was? With effort, Hermione peeled open an eyelid.

Boots, not three meters away, crossed at the ankles. She could see her own reflection in the sleek material. Ah. She was the one screaming; the knowledge slid into her throbbing skull with no effect. The wretched noise continued. She dragged her eye up the long legs, slipping over perfect robes, and finally resting on that Gold Mask. The Death Eater's eyes were already fixed on her. He did not blink. He did not look away.

Hermione latched onto his eyes with everything she had, even as her throat became raw from her screams and her limbs convulsed. Surely it would be over soon, in one way or another. She found comfort in those icy eyes, willing the cool blue to seep into her blazing skin.

Suddenly, the curse lifted, and Hermione's stomach heaved at the sudden relief. Before she could gasp in a breath of air, Bellatrix was on her, knife in hand.

"Let's try something, shall we?" The witch smiled and wrenched Hermione's left arm to the side. She quickly sliced four lines into the tender skin. Hermione didn't cry out; her throat was torn to shreds, so she mutely gazed at the blood seeping onto the floor. Such a vibrant red, it was lovely, like a rose. Bellatrix pressed the tip of her knife at Hermione's throat once more. "Tell me where Potter is."

A round of hysteria bubbled in Hermione's chest. In the back of her mind, she knew there was nothing funny about the situation, but she couldn't quell the laughter. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined the situation she currently found herself in.

"Crucio!"

And so it began again. The curse hit Hermione's chest first, knocking the breath out of her. This time, Hermione knew she was weeping, but the embarrassment never came. The noises dulled as the seconds ticked by. She was losing it...something in her knew she was on the verge of insanity. This degree of pain truly was too much for her brain to handle. She was tired, so tired. It would be so wonderful to sleep, to close her eyes for eternity.

There, on a marble column to her left, was the teeniest imperfection. A crack. How fascinating...she never would have guessed there would be any sort of flaw in a room this beautiful. She imagined what it would be like to be that sliver of rock, looking in on the room. It was a peculiar scene. A frail, malnourished girl lay twitching on the floor, her tangled curls stained red. What a mess she was making! She made the most atrocious sounds, too. Strangled grunts and hisses; it was much too loud for a drawing room. The crack pitied the young girl, but settled snugly into its column, far removed from the unfolding drama. It would wait this out, just as it had weathered many disturbances before.