Hermione could feel Bellatrix’s thumbnail jab deeply into her scalp, but she had to see them, had to have one last look at the two of them before she died. She was only able to catch a glimpse before they disappeared into darkness, just a flash of red hair and white skin. The last time she would ever lay eyes on either of them, and she had not been able to see.

Bellatrix’s grip tightened, wrenching her face around, and Hermione could feel individual hairs being pulled free of the roots, one by one.

“Disgusting piece of filth …� A voice purred malevolently by her ear. Her feet were knocked from underneath her and she was suspended by her hair for a split second before hitting the stone floor. The impact knocked the breath from her and she gasped one quick gulp of air before she heard the word.

“Crucio!�

Every nerve exploded in agony. There was no longer a surface beneath her or air above her. There was nothing but her body, burning and burning, and the sound of her piercing screams.

But then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and her face was against the cold stone and her hand was on the rug and she could hear Ron’s voice echoing from far away, shouting her name, again and again.

“Ron…� She tried to say it loud enough so that he could hear her, but all that came out was a feeble, worthless whisper.

“Where did you get it, Mudblood?� A voice hissed above her as something stake-like bore between her shoulder blades. She took a massive breath and tried to turn herself over, but Bellatrix’s boot held her firmly in place.

“Where did you take it from? Crucio!�

Hermione felt the screams rip from her throat, felt the blinding pain wrack through her bones and flesh. When it stopped, someone was straddling her chest, holding her by the neck, their face inches from hers. She peered into the dimness and saw one heavy-lidded eye bearing down upon her.

“Tch, tch, tch, tch. Dirty… little… mudblood….� the woman crooned softly, her breath burning Hermione’s ear as she stroked her hair with her wand. “Let’s do hurry this along. You see, Greyback’s appetites are insatiable and, really, he can be such a beast when he’s kept waiting. Now,� said Bellatrix, sitting upright and pointing her wand at Hermione’s neck, “I’m going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?�

“We found it---we found it---PLEASE!� Fingers had been winding through her hair again as she spoke and they forced her head around until her nose was pressed against the floor. The lunatic was going to rupture her spinal column. It would all be over far too quickly, and Hermione would have been unable to give them any extra time at all. She gave a cry of pain as the fingers twisted tighter before they finally let go and the weight on top of her vanished.

She could hear footsteps clack across the room, prowling from one side to the other. She rolled over to her stomach and tried to stand. They were here somewhere, she had heard someone yelling her name. Their faces swam through her mind as she tried to pull her knees underneath her hips. Someone was breathing heavily as they paced, one breath for every three steps. Then the breathing stopped and Bellatrix’s voice rang out clear.

“You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it!� She charged across the room. “You have been inside my vault at Gringott’s! Tell the truth, tell the truth!�

Long, hot fingers seized her wrist, twisting her arm behind her, forcing her back to the floor. There was a snap and a shockingly intense pain shot down her arm from her shoulder. She shrieked and kicked as her shoulder was forced further and further from it’s socket. Then something sharp pierced her side, and she willed herself to be still.

“What else did you take? What else have you got?� Hermione could feel the woman’s saliva spray her face, mingling with her own tears. “Tell me the truth or, I swear, I will run you through with this knife!�

“We didn’t---We have nothing---nothing else,� Hermione sobbed. “Please---we found the sword!�

“You’re lying to me, Mudblood!� Bellatrix whispered through clenched teeth. She backed away again, and Hermione waited for the coming curse.

Pain blasted through her body, but instead of all cognizant thought ceasing as it had done, a sequence of nightmarish images sped through her mind. Her childhood home blown to pieces, her parents begging, swearing they knew nothing, her mother screaming…screaming…but it wasn’t her mother, it was herself. Then the only pain was the throbbing muscles and tendons in her shoulder, and the weak burn of bile in her throat.

“What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!�

The burning enveloped her completely and she saw Ron, lying on the forest floor, one half of him bathed in crimson. He gasped and shook, but there was nothing she could do. She could smell his blood soaking his shirt, mingling with the black earth. But then his voice broke through, calling her name somewhere below her. The smell of his blood was slow to fade, and she pressed her ear to the floor, trying to cling to the sound of his voice, drawing her legs up to her chest, her arm hanging limply across her back.

“How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?�

She had to answer quickly. She only hoped that she would be able to speak.

“We only met him tonight! We’ve never been inside your vault….It isn’t the real sword! It’s a copy, just a copy!�

“A copy? Oh, a likely story!�

She was aware of someone else speaking. They were going to retrieve Griphook. Had they been able to hear in the cellar? She prayed that the goblin would lie. Anything to buy the boys more time. Her boys. Ron, blindly brave, stupidly courageous Ron, who would not want to leave her, and Harry, who she hoped would be wise enough to know that they should.

She could hear footsteps coming from behind her and she rolled onto her stomach, trying to catch Griphook‘s eye. Her arm flopped flaccidly at her side and the throbbing in her shoulder made her stomach roll. She saw Bellatrix, towering over the goblin, point her wand directly in his face.

“This is what happens if you lie,� she said, her voice silken. She flicked her wand and it was as if Hermione had been plunged into a bath of acid. She could hear herself yelling, could feel her able limbs flailing, the torment prolonged, but, this time, only physical.

She could hear voices fading in and out above her, but nothing from below. Were they still down there? Was it possible they had escaped? For one delusional moment she felt a surge of wild joy as she thought of them running free into the night. An involuntary yelp of laughter burst thickly from her throat.

“You find this amusing, do you?� Bellatrix mewed, poisonously. “You think your little trick is funny?�

Hermione shook her head in short, quick jerks. Tears streamed down her temples and into her hair as she gazed into the rising shadows. The woman’s rage was palpable, and it filled the room like a noxious cloud. Hermione focused her eyes on the peculiar, twinkling sprawl in the blackness above her, and waited, trembling, for the inevitable.

The pain came, and with it a flash of green light and a body crumpling to the floor beside her. His face lolled towards her, their eyes almost meeting. But his eyes stared just above her, stared without seeing, as the torchlight danced across his glasses.

Then the pain was gone, but Harry’s face, slack and vacant, was still before her.

It was not real, she knew it was not real. The frigid floor, slick beneath her cheek, was real. Her heavy, useless, aching arm was real. Her lungs refusal to take in air was real. She blinked furiously, but the image would not clear. Eyes opened or closed, it was all she could see.

She sensed a presence beside her. Something prodded her in the back and she reflexively jerked away.

There was a shrill cackle and a disturbance in the air above her. Then her jaws parted, her screams spending the last breath left in her lungs, before, finally, everything disintegrated into oblivion.