Copyright: What elements of this story that I own, and are not the property of anyone else, are licensed
CC-BY-NC-SA. That means that you can take anything in this story, up to and including the whole thing, and use it
however you like, as long as you promise me three things:
1. You will link back to me (preferably to my author page)
2. You will not make money off whatever you do
3. You will share your work under these same conditions
Today's prompt: 'Is there one event your character would like to erase from their past? Why?' Should be pretty obvious.
This is a really short one, where very little happens, but it's still important. I took a few liberties with canon, but I'm sure you'll forgive me. Enjoy!
"Wakey-wakey, little mudblood." The cold, high-pitched voice of Bellatrix Lestrange is not the ideal sound for anyone to wake up to. For Hermione Granger, however, it was much worse.
Hermione came to in an unfamiliar room - though recalling her whereabouts from memory was a simple task - in the unenviable position of being restrained in a chair, staring at the manically grinning face of the least sane Death Eater of the bunch. It briefly occurred to Hermione to beg to be released, but she reasoned that it was likely to be completely ineffectual. Instead, she resorted to the next most pressing question: "What do you want with me?"
Bellatrix didn't answer, but her intent became clear when she pointed her wand at Hermione's forehead and screeched "Legilimens."
Somewhere in the distance, Hermione heard a female scream. By the sound of it, the poor girl was having her soul forcibly removed and shredded into minute pieces. It took Hermione a whole minute for the pain to fully process and realize that the screams were coming from her.
Bellatrix's legilimency was neither subtle nor polite; it was rude, harsh, and terrible. Hermione's every neuron was on fire; her eyes glazed over and she saw nothing but bright, blinding lights; she could hear nothing but the blood rushing in her ears and Bellatrix's cruel laughter as she raped a young girl's mind.
Then it stopped. Hermione was faintly aware of a low hum, maybe some kind of conversation, and then the voice itself came right to Hermione's ear. "You've been very helpful, mudblood." She cooed. "We know everything we need to, but that was just too much fun. Legilimens."
Hermione had read that it was possible to get used to torture, to build up a tolerance. Enduring the pain of Bellatrix's invasion into her mind, though, made her less than inclined to believe it: there was no consistency to the attack, except for the constant pain; Bellatrix moved randomly through her victim's mind, Hermione dimly aware that memories of her life were being accessed as Bellatrix cackled.
The pain stopped suddenly. "Was that as good for you as it was for me?" Bellatrix asked, her sickeningly sweet voice piercing through the pained fog of Hermione's mind. Hermione could only groan in response, her brain not quite able to form sentences. "As entertaining as it is to watch you squirm," Bella grinned, "I'm tired of watching you cream your knickers over Potter. Crucio."
Hermione screamed. And screamed. And screamed. By the time she was finally released from Bellatrix's 'care,' she had screamed her throat completely raw, but still always managed to find the voice to keep screaming.