"You're lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!" Bellatrix looked at the young muggle-born wizard, cutting through her flesh with a murderous glare. She prepared her wand for another 'Crucio', the thousandth in less than thirty minutes.

Another terrible scream echoed through all the walls of the big manor, including all dormitories. It also hit his ears. His aunt was torturing the mudblood. Draco could imagine the scene, another 'Crucio', another round of cries. He also knew the kind of pain that the curse inflicts, just like your flesh was being peeled off the body. His father, against his mother's protests, of course, once tried to teach him what the Dark Lord would do to him if he was to fail his mission.

"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 again shook her head. She coudn't say a thing, not even if the Lestrange woman killed her. Furious, Bellatrix tighetened the hold of the knife in her head and put it against Granger's neck. Hermione was breathing heavily, gasping, between screams and cries of pain. She knew she made Bellatrix angrier than ever, but couldn't give away the truth. It would mean disappoint Dumbledore, who had always taken care of her and of her friends.

Bellatrix breathed in, then out and calmed. It nearly gave Hermione a spark of hope. But almost immediately, the corners of the witch's mouth rose forming a smirk and giving away the fact that she'd made a plan. The woman jumped on Hermione, knocking her against the floor, and ripped off the fabric of her blue jacket, exposing the beautiful and soft skin of her arm. Letting out a devilish screech as a laugh, Bellatrix carved letters into Hermione's arm with her silve knife.

"M... U... D...," she said after each letter, like a young child that had just learnt the letters, but also incredibly exulted by her actions. "B... L... O... O... D...".

Tears ran down Hermione's cheeks like a waterfall. It hurt, more than all the 'Crucio' curses that had been cast on her for the past hour. Bellatrix wrote on her arm her other name, the label all of her kind received since the beginnings of wizardry. Ever since her first year at Hogwarts, she had been bullied for the blood in her veins, but, that time, the agony was unbearable. "Stop, stop, please," Hermione begged, her shrieks met only by Bellatrix's unstoppable laughter.

"What am I hearing? The mudblood finally wishes to tell the truth? Where did you find the sword, you bloody....?" The witch kept staring at Hermione, her eyes nearly coming out of the sockets. The hellish glare inflicted just as much pain as a knife. Bellatrix then raised one hand in the air, ready to stick her nails, which were long enough to be claws, into the young girl's neck.

But another hand caught it just in time. "Aunt Bellatrix, I believe it is enough." She turned around to see the platinum-haired boy, his head lowered and looking down. A few seconds, Bellatrix was perplexed by his sudden arrival. He should have been in his room, enjoying the phonic party.

"Draco, darling, what in the bloody hell are you doing?" she spat the words at him. She rose to her feet and pointed her wand the her nephew. He stepped back, surprised by her reaction. "For Devil's sake, if you were my boy, you'd now knee down before me and lick my socks as an apology. Cissy is a weak woman; to her, silly things like love and family matter.

Hermione looked at her saviour, disbelief being read in her eyes. Then she turned her head to see that bloody word written, carved, into her skin and let her head down, sobbing and in tears. It would have been appropiate to thank him, but she couldn't care less. It seemed she could finally breathe, without Bellatrix cursing her.

The witch glared again at him. "Do whatever you want, boy. Keep her warm until I return to finish my job. Later, I'll bathe in her blood." With that, Bellatrix Lestrange turned around on her heels and left.

Another shiver went down Hermione's spine. She was sure that if the Lestrange woman came back, it would be the end of her. One way or another, she had to escape, take Ron and Harry and run. But her whole body was trembling, so much that she couldn't even stand up.

"Are you alright, Granger?" His voice was low, hoarse and the tone made the question look like an apology, fact that surprised Hermione a lot.

She nodded, sobbing and forcing her body to move. Draco extended his hand to help her up. She took it, finally able to support herself on her own two feet. "You wouldn't want to hear the real answer to the question. Why did you help me?"

He lowered his head once again. "I was trying to sleep and I couldn't because of your bloody screams. I had to stop it," he answered, faking his usual cocky way of behaving, but something in the look on his face made Hermione believe something else. However, of course, he couldn't look weak in front of the enemy.

"Are you alright, Draco?" She repeated his question, mimicking the same tone. She figured out that he didn't want to be part of this whole thing, the war, the Death Eaters. His need for silence equaled a need for peace, in spite of his cocky way of saying otherwise.

He only sighed.

"Well, thank you for helping me. Would you mind letting me go?" It was almost funny, as both smiled a bit at her question. Had he done that, the Dark Lord would have killed him. But in that world in which death became the new normal for wizards, because it was war, it did not matter.

Draco, though, snorted. "It would mean risking my life... for you and Potter and Weasley. Do you think I'd ever willingly do that?" He looked directly into Hermione's eyes as he spoke. But slowly, slowly, his confidence decreased, seeing how serious she was about that. An idea sparked in his mind.

Hermione mouthed something to him. Her remaining dignity would have left her beg him loudly for help. Anyways, she had never thought she would end up asking Draco Mafloy for a favor, one that would mean salvation for her and her friends.

He had already saved her once that day. She wondered whether he would want to do that again. Somehow, he wondered about that too. Hermione told herself that if ever she could, she should return the favor.

Draco extended his hand to her, startling Hermione, and handed her his wand. "Punch me in the face, like in our third year, take my wand and 'Stupefy' me. Do you think you can do that?"

Hermione, at first, looked at him perplexed and surprised. He was really helping them. Then, she remembered their third year at Hogwarts, during their adventure in finding Sirius, that time when she was so angry that she hit him right in the face. The satisfaction she had felt doing that was one of the most incredible things she had ever felt. It was a beautiful memory, unforgettable, always and forever to remain in her mind, in a treasure box specially made for fantastic moments.

She punched him and took his wand, so fast that he couldn't see it coming. Hermione did not realize she had been holding her breath until the wand was in her hand, sparkling from a just-cast spell, and he was down. "Thank you, Draco." The spell rendered him unconcious and he couldn't hear it, though Hermione would have wanted him to.

She started running, trying to find her friends. But a wild screech hit her ears and made her stop. "You, filthy mudblood, dared to hex Draco?" It was Bellatrix. She was coming back, coming for her. "No more questions, dear, I'll have to kill you now."