A Hufflepuff heart | Hermione Granger

LXX

Bea stood tall, despite the weight of everything that had happened. The bruises on her face were still fresh, the deep purple and dark blue marks a painful reminder of her time in the dungeons. But what hurt more than the physical wounds were the cracks in her spirit, cracks that she tried to ignore.

Her eyes, once filled with warmth, now only reflected coldness, a frozen indifference that served as her shield. Her body was no longer trembling, no longer giving in to the pain. She had learned to hide the fear, to suppress the desperation, as much as it gnawed at her inside.

She had been showered, cleaned up, given fresh clothes, nothing extravagant, nothing too special. But it didn't matter. It was just another way of stripping her of what little dignity she had left, making her a shell of what she once was.

Voldemort stood in front of her, his piercing red eyes narrowing as he took in her appearance. He seemed almost pleased, a twisted smirk playing at the edges of his lips. He didn't need to say anything; the silence between them spoke volumes. He knew what they had done to her. He knew that they had broken her.

- Beatrice, - Voldemort's voice slithered through the air, cold and commanding. - You are a powerful witch. One that has been shaped and molded by me, by my followers. By Bellatrix's and Rodolphus's... methods. -

Bea didn't respond, her gaze never faltering. Her insides twisted with disgust, but she didn't let it show. There was no room for weakness now, not even in front of him.

- You've been through much, - Voldemort continued, taking a step closer, his presence suffocating. - But you are stronger for it. You are mine now. You know this, don't you? -

Her jaw clenched, but she kept her thoughts buried. The truth was, she didn't know. She didn't know what was happening inside her anymore, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let him see it.

- You may think you have a choice, - he said softly, almost as if to himself, - but you don't. There is no escaping me. You are a Lestrange. You belong to me. -

Bea's heart tightened at the name. Lestrange. It felt like an anchor, a chain that bound her to this nightmare. It was her blood, her family, her curse. She knew that whatever she chose, it would never erase that name from her life. It would follow her, haunt her.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, as if reading her thoughts, sensing her inner turmoil. - You can continue to fight, - he said, his voice hardening, - but know this: If you continue to resist, you will die. It is a fact. Or...- He paused, allowing the words to linger in the air like a venomous whisper. - You can join me. Join me, and you will be untouchable. You will have power beyond your wildest dreams. -

Bea's chest tightened. The words hung there like an impossible choice. It wasn't the first time he had offered her this.

But this time, it felt different. The pain from the torture, the constant pressure, the unrelenting fear, was it enough to break her? Would she survive another round of torment, only to die trying to escape? Or was it smarter to play along, pretend, and find a way to bring him down from within?

She could almost feel the walls closing in on her. The reality of her situation was cruel and inescapable. She had two options: fight and die, or bend and survive. But if she bent, would she ever find a way to fight again?

She didn't answer him immediately, instead, allowing the silence to drag out. Each breath she took felt like a battle.

Voldemort didn't seem to mind her silence. His smirk only grew wider as he waited. He was used to breaking people. To seeing them bend and break under his pressure.

But Beatrice Lestrange had never been easy to break.

- I don't have all the time in the world, - Voldemort said, his voice suddenly cold, his eyes narrowing. - You are my possession now, whether you like it or not. The choice is yours. Resist and die. Join me... and be reborn.-