Isn't He Lovely-Professor Snape

Deathly Hallows Pt 28

With a malicious gesture, Voldemort callously places me onto the harsh forest ground. Unrelenting waves of pain surge through every fiber of my being, and an involuntary cry pierces the oppressive darkness. Curled into a fetal position, I seek refuge from the torment that ravages my weakened body.

Amidst the inky blackness of the forest, Voldemort's commanding voice slices through the air like a blade. "Draco, put her against the tree."

Draco, tired and seemingly out of place in the sinister tableau, approaches with a noticeable weariness. His eyes convey a mixture of pity and resignation as his hands guide me. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his touch surprisingly gentle as he positions me against the rough bark of a looming tree. Despite the discomfort, Draco's touch carries an unexpected kindness amid the surrounding agony.

I lock eyes with Draco, witnessing the internal conflict etched on his fatigued face. In that brief exchange, I feel an overwhelming empathy for him, knowing that his involvement in these dark affairs weighs heavily on his conscience. He lowers his head, whispers, "I'm sorry, Niamh," and briefly grasps my hand before retreating into the shadows. As Voldemort steps forward, I regard him with sheer disgust.

In the heart of the foreboding forest, the oppressive darkness is thick, almost suffocating. Voldemort's taunts reverberate through the air like a sinister hymn. "You've been so bad," he sneers, the malevolence in his voice harmonizing with the shadows that writhe around us. The pitch-black landscape is punctuated by the eerie glow of the surrounding Death Eaters, a macabre congregation of malevolent figures in the service of the Dark Lord.

His words hang in the air, pregnant with the promise of retribution. "You shouldn't have escaped, my dear. Now, you'll pay the consequences for your actions."

Suddenly, two Death Eaters seize me with a grip that feels like cold steel, lifting me off the ground. A pained groan escapes my lips, the physical toll of Voldemort's retribution palpable in every fiber of my being. Despite the agony, defiance sparks within me.

"You're going to lose this war!" I yell, my voice laced with determination, though the pain reverberates through my words.

Voldemort chuckles, an unsettling sound that seems to meld with the ominous rustling of the leaves. He dismissively shrugs off my defiance. In the sinister ballet of darkness, a third Death Eater advances, a silent accomplice to the unfolding torment.

The blow lands with a vicious force, and my head throbs with an intensity that feels like a relentless drumbeat. Darkness encroaches on the edges of my vision as the pain intensifies, each pulse a reminder of my vulnerability in the clutches of Voldemort's minions

Relentless hits rain down on me, delivered with a sadistic fervor by the Death Eater's cruel hand. He attacks me everywhere, my face, stomach, and takes out a knife to cut my arms and chest. The searing pain intensifies, each strike carving a symphony of agony that reverberates through my entire being. My face bears the brunt of the assault, and I can feel warm, sticky blood trickling down, staining my skin like a macabre canvas.

Each strike is a cruel punctuation mark in the silent script of my torment, the unbearable pain weaving an intricate tapestry of anguish. As the blows continue, a haze of darkness clouds my senses, pushing me to the brink of consciousness. In the twisted ballet of torment, the forest remains an indifferent spectator to my suffering, its rustling leaves offering no solace in the face of the relentless assault.

Voldemort's command echoes through the darkened woods, "enough" and the Death Eaters obediently release their grip on me. As I plummet to the forest floor, a searing pain courses through my battered body, my body aflame with the agony of the recent onslaught.