A/N: This is another fic that had its origins years ago. I had writers' block with it, came across it recentlly, shortened it, added a dream sequence, and polished it off. This fic, while sticking to book canon, adopts the film idea that Bellatrix carved out the word 'Mudblood' on Hermione's arm, because frankly, she's a total sadist. Be warned, it might not be an easy read - and the fic probably comes close to an M at times. There is, unsurprisingly, a Ron/Hermione moment at the end. Both come to an understanding of sorts about how the other feels, though both perhaps wisely elect to not properly follow up on their feelings. Text at the start is of course lifted straight from DH:

Narcissa hesitated for a moment, then addressed the werewolf.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."

"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. All except….except for the Mudblood."

Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.

"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!"

Bellatrix hit him across the face; the blow echoed around the room.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them - yet."

She threw Greyback's wand back to him, then took a short silver knife from under her robes….

As Hermione was cut free from Ron, Harry and Dean, Ron impulsively seized her hand. She turned around. Her light brown eyes met his deep blue for just a second, before Hermione was seized by the top of her head, and yanked backwards so her face gazed up at the ceiling. As Bellatrix dragged her into the middle of the floor of the drawing room, she struggled to hold her head down, and could see Ron, Harry and Dean forced out of the room by Greyback, his wand projecting an invisible force pushing them away. Ron was still turned towards her, a look of pure terror on his face, a look of terror not even reserved for Acromantula. She froze, mouth half-open, ready to mouth or call something, anything out to the terrified face being bundled out of the room. What was it going to be? "It's okay?" "I'm fine?" Something reassuring, an apology, or something, something…else altogether? The words, whatever they were going to be, died on her lips, as Ron Weasley left her sights for what was shaping up to be the last time ever, knowing Bellatrix.

With a sudden, jerky motion, Bellatrix threw her away from her, a look of utter disgust on her face. Hermione hit the floor hard, landing awkwardly on her side, and feeling shooting pains travel up from her wrist, which had taken the worst of the impact. A sharp intake of breath came from Draco Malfoy, somewhere off to her left. Out of the corner of her left eye, she saw him shudder and involuntarily take a half-step backwards as Bellatrix tossed her knife from left to right hand casually, slowly advancing one step at a time, the most evil expression possible on her face. Hermione looked over at Lucius and Narcissa, both looking grave and oddly blank. They had seen this performance many times before.

Hermione shakily got to her knees and desperately yanked her hand into the pocket of her jeans, but of course, there was no wand. Bellatrix swept out her wand, and with a bang and a flash of red light, Hermione was thrown back on her back, a lump starting to form on the back of her head.

Bellatrix was now looming over her, and Hermione was surprised to see that she was shaking with fear- fear that Voldemort would find out about a sword missing from her vault at Gringotts, she realised. Bellatrix took a deep, calming breath, before looking down at Hermione and asking, in a vice of forced calmness "Where did you get that sword from?" Hermione's first instinct was to lie. Trying not to show fear in her voice, she replied "The…the Minister of Magic….Dumbledore gave it to H…"

Fury rippled across Bellatrix's manic features. With one of her pointed shoes, she kicked Hermione hard in the ribs. Hermione felt a crunch, and a ripple of pain burst forth from her left side. She let out an involuntary gasp.

"Now then…" Bellatrix leered, adopting a sweet, little girl voice somewhat similar to Dolores Umbridge. "Lying won't get you out of this one, girly. I want you to tell me the whole, full truth, or I will cause you more pain than you can imagine. And your little friends downstairs will be haunted by your screams…" she cackled maniacally. "Have you heard what I did to your classmate Longbottom's parents? I sat down with them for a little discussion-" she cackled again, showing rotting brown teeth, "-lasting three whole hours. Frank Longbottom was one of the toughest Aurors I met, and now look at him! He and his wife can't even shovel soup into their mouths without Healers' help. Well that was….fun - all in a day's work!"

Rage coursed through Hermione's veins at what this evil monster before her had done to Neville's life. No mother or father to come home to each year. No mother or father to comfort him, to watch him grow up. She just hoped her parents were safe and happy in Melbourne right now. With a murderous expression on her face, she sat up, but Bellatrix flicked her knife out, and crouching down, positioned it under her chin. The point of the blade pricked her skin, and she felt a warm, flowing sensation under her chin.

"Now then," Bellatrix said matter-of-factly, as though the two were meeting for afternoon tea. "Girl talk. Where did you get that sword from?"

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. "I told you," she nearly growled, "Harry got it from Rufus Scrimgeour, and-"

Bellatrix kicked her viciously. Nearly passing out, Hermione yet again felt her head make hard contact with the floor, as she gasped for air. Opening her eyes, she saw Bellatrix's right shoe hover over her and rest softly on her head, forcing it to the left, so all she could see was the Malfoys, of whom Draco had suddenly found something interesting on his fingernails. The pressure increased. In her mind's eye she saw the black wand rising, as a sudden, uncomfortably numb sensation began spreading from her legs to the rest of her. She was now aching all over.

Bellatrix then flung her wand forward, and the ache became a searing pain. Hermione began to feel her limbs shake, then jerk uncontrollably as the pain level kept on being ratcheted up.

She couldn't bear it any longer, the pain was now excruciating, and unaware she had opened her mouth, she screamed, the scream echoing all around Malfoy Manor. Never had she thought she was capable of making such a horrifying sound, as her vision became blurry, and three sets of Draco Malfoy flashed in front of her eyes.

The pain ceased suddenly, and Hermione's limbs were hers once again. The scream continued ricocheting off the walls, and before the echoes had ceased, Hermione heard a yell from below that made her heart jump into another gear altogether.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

"Ron," she whispered to herself more than anything. She rolled over to face Bellatrix, cramps flaring up in her body as if she'd run five miles. She saw Greyback re-enter the room, a hungry expression on his face, as he leaned against the nearest pillar, as if he was watching a TV show, and watched her intensely, his tongue subconsciously wetting his lower lip. Anger overtook her fear again as she scathingly thought up a name of the television program Greyback appeared to think he was watching. Mudblood Interrogation, Season Two, Episode Five, she thought sourly, attempting to give him the dirtiest look she could. Just then, Ron yelled even louder.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

"That was just a taster," Bellatrix hissed. "The sooner this is over, the sooner it can be over for you. If you don't tell the truth this time, I will drag your friends up here, and they can watch me spill your filthy blood all over this floor, pint by pint. Now, when did you go sneaking into my vault at Gringotts? That sword is supposed to be IN MY VAULT!" She shrieked out the last part, looking more insane than ever if that was possible.

Hermione locked her gaze on Bellatrix, tears now freely pouring down her face.

"I've never been into your vault!" she gulped. "I- we've never taken anything! How could we? We couldn't get past the Goblins-"

Bellatrix raised her wand again, and Hermione was hit with the full, unadulterated power of the Cruciatus Curse. Writhing, kicking, and screaming her lungs out, she could vaguely hear Ron's yells, and knew then that for their sake, she had to cling on. The longer Bellatrix tortured her, the longer Harry and Ron would stay alive….she had to hold on, as the room swam dangerously, and became discoloured and grey. Still the curse kept on coursing through her body like dragon's fire.

She raised her head about an inch, and let it fall back, gasping; the curse had been lifted once again.

Bellatrix stormed in a circle around her, now white-hot with fury.

"I'm going to ask you again! Where-" she kicked Hermione's ribs yet again, causing her to groan as she felt at least one break "-did-" another kick "- you – get – this - sword?" More kicks to the ribcage, followed up by one into her left knee, which buckled. Bellatrix knelt down beside her; she was unable to move as with a cackle, the madwoman who was torturing her seized her right wrist, and twisted hard. The snap was unmistakable as the bone broke, and Hermione let out a hiss of pain.

"Where?" Bellatrix spat violently, and Hermione felt an ice-cold surge of fear. What was Bellatrix going to do next? Start dismembering her? Anything, as long as it didn't involve the Cruciatus Curse- oh-no.

Bellatrix's wand rose again, and Hermione had to say anything, anything at all to stop a repetition of that excruciating agony. Words flew out of her mouth in a panicked tumble. "We found it- we found it – PLEASE!" The curse hit her again, and she screamed yet again, and as she lay writhing, she herd Bellatrix's furious yell.

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!

The pain soared from red-hot to white hot. Her vision turned to first black and white, then grainy. Another scream was torn from her lungs- surely this was it? One more, and it'd be all over. It would just be like falling into a warm, cozy sleep….

"HERMIONE!"

No, she thought desperately. This is it. I'm never going to be able to see Ron or Harry again. I'm never going to read another book. I'm never going to see Voldemort defeated. I'm never going to see Hogwarts again. I'm never going to get fed by Mrs. Weasley again. I'm never going to see my parents again. They'll never know I existed….

More tears fell freely onto her clothes and hair, as the train of remorse in her head continued.

I'm never going to apologize to Ron for me ignoring him yet again. I'm never going to scold him again for swearing. I'm never going to laugh again at one of his stupid jokes. I'm never going to feel his hand on mine again. I'm never going to - to tell him how I feel…

The curse stopped, and Hermione tried to clear her grainy vision, and she herself stopped stone-cold.

An epiphany.

It was funny, really, she thought, that the exact feelings and emotions people least wanted to think about ordinarily were the exact same ones that most comforted them during moments of peril.

Detached from her surroundings, she only vaguely noticed Bellatrix, now twirling the silver knife, right when her mind was still focused with shock over how deep her feelings ran for a certain someone locked in the basement below her.

"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth, or I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

Hermione attempted to pull herself back to full consciousness, but she couldn't. She couldn't stop her consciousness drifting into a place of cozy warmth, where images of her and Ron, locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely, rampaged freely. "We didn't….take…anything else," she whimpered, her eyes unfocused.

It was no good. The black-robed figure, seen through a haze, glared at her, and screamed like a banshee.

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

She could no longer even hear her scream as it reverberated off the walls; she could only feel her lungs vibrating as the worst jolt of pain yet coursed through her. One by one, like her dad's computer starting its shut down procedure, she started to feel her senses fade away - sight and smell in particular. The pain kept erupting up and down the full length of her body - for ten seconds, fifteen, thirty. Regrettably, her sense of touch still was as strong as ever. When the torture finally ceased, Hermione could barely see ten inches in front of her. Bellatrix knelt right in front of her face, ragged breath smothering her. Now that the curse had stopped, she could once again vaguely hear Ron bellowing her name. It was then she remembered that he'd offered to take her place. She'd never have allowed him to go through this. If it was Ron being tortured to the point of unconsciousness, she'd be downstairs screaming his name, and as horrifying and excruciatingly painful it was to go out this way, she knew listening to his screams, his agony, would be even worse.

"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix screeched; her voice was now echoing. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

"We only met him tonight!" she gasped. How was it that even now, she was able to find a path out of this? If Bellatrix thought the sword was actually a fake…. "We've never been inside your vault….it isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

"A copy!" Bellatrix screeched. "A likely story!"

"But we can easily find out!" came the raspy, hoarse voice of Lucius Malfoy from somewhere to her left. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

Hermione paused with baited breath. If Harry and Ron could convince Griphook to lie, then it would work…

There was a loud crack from somewhere below. That was the sound of someone Apparating, Hermione realised. She was too tired to figure out who it could possibly be…

Bellatrix knelt in front of her. "While I'm waiting for the goblin…," she whispered "I'm going to have some fun."

And she pulled out her silver knife, seized Hermione's broken wrist, causing yet another wave of pain, and pinned it to the floor. Bellatrix then rolled up Hermione's sleeve, and plunged the knife into her skin. But she didn't stop there. She then began dragging it across her skin, causing another blinding flash of white-hot pain. Another scream was torn from her lungs, as the knife continued its horrifying work, and Bellatrix kept on cackling.

Hermione realised that Bellatrix's knife had carved out an 'm' on her forearm. She could quite easily guess the next seven letters. On and on it went, her legs jerking uncontrollably, and accompanied by a scream every now and then. She now had tunnel vision, she couldn't even hear anything and it hit her that this horrible dark drawing room was her deathbed. As Bellatrix's knife carved out the second 'd' in 'mudblood', she slowly turned her head away from Bellatrix so she wouldn't hear, tears streaking through the grime on her face to the floor.

"Goodbye," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

At that, Hermione's vision faded to zero completely. She could still feel the surface she was lying on, but nothing else. She felt herself spinning into a tunnel, the black at the end was coming for her…

Suddenly, she heard the distant sounds of a ferocious duel being waged around her, followed by her being unceremoniously dragged to her feet and she had her head pulled back. A cold object touched her throat. A silver knife, no doubt, and she could damn well guess who was wielding it.

Yes, definitely, she thought groggily as a pinprick of pain suddenly appeared on her throat.

Then…..she was knocked back to the floor, crushed by a horrible, heavy mass, sustaining more sharp cuts all over her. Was this Bellatrix's final twisted method of toying with her? She was so tired….she wanted to sleep….

No. She wanted to see Ron and Harry again. At that, a pair of arms clumsily pulled her out of the horrible mass that had fallen on her, and before she had time to gather whose arms they were, she felt a sensation of being squeezed through a tight rubber tube….her chest was being compressed….what was this familiar sensation?

The moment it ended, Hermione Granger lost consciousness completely.

….

She felt like she was drifting….peacefully and serenely. Then she heard crashes and bangs once more. She opened her eyes to the tell-tale 'whoosh' of flying curses. The room was a familiar one…..then it hit her.

They were in the Veil Room in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione couldn't comprehend how she'd ended up here, once again. She could see Ron, fighting ferociously alongside Harry with a pair of familiar-looking Death Eaters. With a yell, Lucius Malfoy was blown head over heels.

Then she heard a distant, horribly familiar cackle once again, but she had no energy to push herself off the stone floor.

Ron slashed his wand. Red light poured out of it as Dolohov was hit in the chest by the beam of light and collapsed. The room grew deathly silent as Harry turned and walked towards Ginny, who'd also been fighting. But Ron only had eyes for her.

"It's over, Hermione," he said quietly but determinedly, his gaze rooting her to the spot as she felt a shiver of exhilaration rush down her spine. They can't hurt you anymore."

"Ron," she breathed, but she lacked the energy to stand. But Ron shook his head, and began to step away from the archway with the eerie veil.

"I just want to say that…..that I love-"

"Ron, look out!" she cried, but the curse was already sailing towards Ron before he could even react. His face froze in horror as the jet of green hit him, and he was propelled into the air, sailing inexorably towards the veil…..

"No," she panted, getting to her feet as Ron proceeded to disappear through it, never to emerge again. "RON!" she screamed, anguish eating her up from the inside.

A flash of silver hit her and she fell once more, staring with horror as Bellatrix loomed over her.

"You really thought getting away would be so easy?" she hissed. "There's nowhere you and your boyfriend could've hidden. Nowhere!" She flicked her knife out again as she leaned over Hermione. The blade dipped down, towards her heart…

…

"Hermione! HERMIONE! It's okay. You're safe…."

She opened her eyes. Ron was leaning in front of her, still pale, and with tear-tracks covering his face.

"You're safe," he whispered, covering one of her hands with his own. Hermione looked around at the unfamiliar setting. She was lying on a bed, with the most beautiful view out towards the nearby beach. Had she died and gone to…

"Where are we?" she croaked - it shocked her to hear how frail her voice was.

"Shell Cottage," came a mild, reassuring voice to her right, and Hermione turned to see Luna standing there. "Fleur's taken good care of you, Hermione. I'm glad to see you're all right."

"Luna?" she choked. "How did we-"

"It's a long story," said Luna calmly, "and one that I think should be told by Ronald. Well, I'm just going off to see how Harry is." She patted her arm once as she left Hermione and Ron in peace.

As the bedroom door closed ever-so softly, Hermione raised the arm that Bellatrix had so cruelly maimed. The wrist still felt limp, but further up, there was nothing wrong except a patch of red, raw skin.

"Fleur's bloody brilliant," whispered Ron as he sat himself down in a bedside chair. "Thank Merlin for her. Dittany, Skele-Gro…..God knows what else."

"It was you who saved me!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Wasn't it?" Ron sighed, brushing his far-too-long hair out of his eyes, and nodded, closing his eyes and exhaling in relief. "Yes it was. And Dobby."

"What?" Hermione cried, sitting up straight, only to fall back as fatigue washed over her once more.

"Yes, he saved us all," sighed Ron. "Haven't checked up on him and Harry since we arrived….I just couldn't leave…" He buried his face in his hands as a solitary sob escaped him.

Tentatively, Hermione reached out, and stroked the back of his neck with her fingertips. Ron shivered at the contact. "Hermione, I….I"

"It's okay Ron," she whispered back, intuitively knowing what he was trying to say. "I know. I know everything." She thought she'd loved Ron before the Locket had driven that deepest of trenches between them.

It was nothing compared to the overwhelming sure of gratitude, affection, and longing that was engulfing her now. Acting on a sudden impulse, and fighting the wave of exhaustion, she briefly kissed the top of Ron's turned-away head, before sinking back into the warm, dreamless embrace of deep sleep.

That intoxicating cocktail of emotions and knowledge got her through hearing the news about Dobby's death. It got her through the rest of the day. She knew for as long as she lived, however limited though it could be, that it would motivate and propel her on.

And she knew the same was the case for Ron.

Just knowing was enough.

For now, at least.