"You did her wrong, mate," Zabini said to Malfoy as we sat in the corner of the dungeon. Nott stood guard outside to warn us if any Death Eaters were coming, and Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat in the opposite corner, working on creating the polyjuice potion. They shot us hateful looks every so often.

"He really did," I grumbled, hugging my knees.

"This is why I don't have friends," Pansy sneered. "It gets too . . . emotional."

"We all know you don't have friends because no one wants to be your friend, Parkinson," I shot at her, and I swear I heard her growl.

"Easy," Zabini warned, holding out an arm. "Even though she's unarmed," he said, his dark eyes flicking to me, "she can have you slammed against that wall in a second."

"It was luck," I mumbled. "It's the first and last time it's gonna happen."

Draco narrowed his eyes curiously. "You did it in this very dungeon only two days ago."

"Was I talking to you?" I snapped. "I didn't think so."

He pouted. "Did I ruin a beautiful friendship? Oh, I must apologize to Davers immediately."

"David! Tracey David, you git," I punched him.

Parkinson snickered.

"Will you keep your voices down over there? She's trying to concentrate!" Ron yelled. "Bloody Death Eaters," we heard him mutter.

"Shut up, Weasel. Protecting that filthy mudblood," Parkinson spat back in disgust.

I shot her a warning glare, but Ron had already heard. He nearly rose to his feet in anguish, but was yanked down by Harry.

"What did you say to her?" he bellowed, ears turning red to match his freckled face.

"You heard me, blood traitor!" Pansy yelled back, green eyes shining with malice.

"Keep it down!" Nott hissed from outside the dungeon.

Malfoy kept Pansy rooted to the ground as her and Ron shot insults back and forth. Having enough, I decided to practice my newfound skills, and narrowed my eyes at her.

Silencio.

Pansy's lips snapped shut, and her emerald eyes widened in alarm. She began waving her arms wildly, smacking Zabini in the back of the head and nearly punching Malfoy in the face.

"Undo it, Steele," Malfoy said sternly, avoiding her flailing arms, but I could tell he was finding it as hilarious as I was, gray eyes full of amusement.

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes. As I returned her to normal, she inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, enraged.

"When Bellatrix releases my parents and I don't have to work with you anymore," she sneered, "I will turn you and your blood traitor friends into dust, Steele."

"I'll be ready," I retorted.

Malfoy was smirking—no, smiling—as if he too were looking forward to it. Suddenly, the three of them looked up over my head, and a figure sat down next to me.

"So," a dreamy voice announced, "Ollivander's not doing too well."

Pansy frowned, looking mildly surprised by Luna's confidence.

"Griphook, on the other hand, is doing quite well," Luna added. "But he will be taken for questioning soon, so whatever your plan is, you'll have to make it quick."

I nodded. "I doubt it'll take much longer."

"It's ready," Hermione said as if on cue, standing over me. "I just need a bit of your hair."

I felt a sharp pinch in my head, my eyes watering.

"Hey!" My hand shot up, rubbing my head as I sucked in air through my teeth.

Parkinson smirked, holding a chunk of my dark hair between her thumb and forefinger.

"Here you go."

⚡️⚡️⚡️

Hermione's potion tasted like toothpaste, to be completely honest. I'd expected the worst, but the minty-ness had caught me completely off-guard. I nearly threw it up, and Malfoy patted my back.

"Don't touch me," I grumbled, sipping more of the thick concoction.

"I'm just trying to prevent you from throwing up onto my shoes," he replied calmly, glancing down at his black, freshly polished shoes. "Look, Granger's already done with hers." I looked up to see Hermione's skin beginning to bubble as the transformation began, her soft brown curls turning into thick, black hair. She became slightly paler and an inch shorter.

"Do I really look like that?" I asked, almost shocked.

"What?" he raised an eyebrow. "You look fine."

"Not if I look like that!" I said, pointing at Hermione.

"You pull off you better than she does," he assured me. "Now, to make it easier, I'll just do this so you can't smell it." He reached up, pinching my nose, and I swatted his hand away.

"It's not the smell, it's the chunky texture of it," I gagged.

"That's probably the leeches," he said, the corner of his lips turning up.

"You're not making this any easier, Draco." Upon hearing his first name, his smirk widened.

"We're on a first name basis now?"

I tilted the cup, emptying the rest of the potion into my both, and forced it down. Grabbing his hand, I set the cup into it, and wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve.

"You wish."

Suddenly, a strange, tingling sensation began in my body. My skin began to bubble, similar to the way Hermione's hand. It wasn't painful . . . it just felt very, very strange.

Everyone watched us in awe, and when the transformation was complete, Zabini said, "It's as if all they did was switch outfits."

"Eerie," Nott whispered, sticking his head in to get a good look at us.

"They're both still ugly," Pansy put in.

I ran a hand through my hair, which had begun to frizz from the humidity of the dungeon.

"I have a spell for that," Hermione/Me said, holding out her hand. Reluctantly, I gave her my wand, and she did a couple movements, and my/her hair settled down, smooth and perfectly curled like it had been before.

"Well," I said to her, "now you go with Malfoy. Stay up there, and I will lead everyone else out the back. Parkinson, keep an eye on Bellatrix at all times. Theo, you guard the doorway to the entrance, and Zabini create some sort of a false alarm that'll lead everyone away from the entrance of the manor."

As everyone moved quickly to fill in their roles, Malfoy said, "You see that, Steele?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Proof that seventeen-year old death eaters are still kids who just want to cause a little mischief and have some fun."

⚡️⚡️⚡️

Hermione and Malfoy disappeared, and the only ones left in the dungeon besides me were Ron, Harry, Griphook and Ollivander. As I waited for the signal from Nott that all was clear, I heard footsteps come down the stairs.

"Finally, what took you so—" my voice caught in my throat as I heard a shrill laugh, one that belonged to no other than a frizzy haired witch named Bellatrix Lestrange. She threw open the bars, marched in, grabbed Griphook, and with no other warning, disappeared up the stairs.

"What's going on?" Ron asked me, and I shrugged, confused.

Minutes later, Wormtail's voice came. "Okay, so change of plans. Bellatrix is adamant on knowing if the Sword of Gryffindor found with Granger is real or not, and she's standing upstairs, in the entrance of the Manor." Of course, this wasn't really Wormtail speaking, but Theodore who had temporarily put Wormtail under a sleeping spell, and switched out places with him using leftover Polyjuice Potion.

"What the hell is Zabini up to? Wasn't it his job to distract her?" I hissed. "And where's Parkinson?"

"They tried. Zabini sent out a call and most of the death eaters followed him, but Bellatrix insisted on staying back to deal with the goblin and the wandmaker."

Ollivander whimpered in the back.

"Well, I need you to have her leave for just enough time so that I can get them out of here."

Wormtail/Nott scowled at Ron and Harry. "Problematic little shits."

"Nott!" I warned.

Luna laughed, and Wormtail/Nott's scowl melted away. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "Go!"

As Wormtail disappeared up the stairs, I could heart bits and pieces of Bellatrix's conversation with Griphook.

"Well?" Bellatrix demanded.

"I left Gringotts employ many weeks ago, but when I was last in your vault, the sword was there."

"Perhaps it just walked out on its own then."

"There is no place safer than Gringotts, Madam Lestrange."

"Liar! You can't deceive me!"

"I assure you, this one is a fake," Griphook said calmly.

"There is someone here to see you," Parkinson's voice came. Finally! Her part of the plan would be to find Scabior, put him under the Imperius Curse, and have him barge in, demanding a ransom for turning in the Boy Who Lived.

"Who is it?" she snarled.

"Scabior," Pansy said, smoothly. "He would like to speak to you in private."

I grinned.

There was some scuffling, a few thuds, and then, silence.

Wormtail appeared again. "They're all gone. Hurry!" He unlocked the door and I motioned for them to follow me. Luna and Ron supported Ollivander as Harry led in the front with me, grabbing Griphook on the way. We ran past the empty foyer and towards the kitchen in the back, where six house elves were working. They were too busy to worry about us and who we were, and I pushed open the small entrance where they entered the manor from—they weren't allowed to enter the house through the front.

I reached for my wand but remembered Hermione had it. If I was caught with my wand as Hermione, it would give me away as a traitor.

I only had my wandless magic to help me now.

"I hope this works," I said, closing my eyes. "Asconda." I opened my eyes, hoping the Disillusionment Charm had worked. Only Ron was showing, and part of Harry's leg. I set my jaw in frustration, trying it again. "Asconda!" When I opened my eyes again, I couldn't see anyone anymore.

"You still there?" I asked.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Well, go on. Get out of here. Run, because I don't know how long this will last, and when you're successfully past the gates, then try disapparating. Now, go!"

I heard shuffling and the door creaking open, and shuffling. Then, a pause.

"Thank you," Luna said.

"And we're sorry," said Harry and Ron.

I nodded. "Go, now. You don't have much time."

And with that, they were gone. I would meet them In a few minutes at Bill and Fleur's home, Shell Cottage.

I turned as the small door squeaked shut, breathing a sigh of relief, and faced the five house elves who had either pretended to ignore everything that had just went down, or were too focused to even notice.

I leaned against the counter.

And then, my eyes widened. 

I whipped around.

One, two, three, four, five.

Where the hell was the sixth house elf?

I wrung my hands in a panic, pushing open the small door. As I was about to jump out, to follow Harry, Ron, Luna, Ollivander, and Griphook earlier than I was supposed to, I heard a spine-chilling laugh from behind me.

Slowly, I turned. There stood Bellatrix, her eyes as wild as her hair, a small house elf cowering behind her.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, a humorless smile spreading across her face. There was rage in her eyes, pure, burning fire. In a flash she reached forward, hooking her fingers into my hair, and dragged me across the kitchen floor. Pain shot up my scalp, tears forming at my eyes as I kicked and flailed, but she did not let go. I was dragged into the entrance where Zabini stood, alongside Pansy whose eyebrows were furrowed, lips set in a hard line. Wormtail/Nott grimaced as I was thrown to the floor, the back of my head cracking against the marble.

Trying to clear my vision, I looked up to see other death eaters surrounding us, and my eyes fell on . . . myself. Hermione stood next to Malfoy, whose gray eyes were wide with panic.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen.

We knew the risks, I wanted to tell him.

Bellatrix loomed over me. She sat down, pinning my arms to my sides.

"Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way," she said, reaching into her pocket to take out her wand.

No, I thought as I saw a flash of silver. Not her wand. A knife.

"Where did you take Harry Potter and the others?" she asked, baring her rotting teeth. I nearly gagged, turning my face away from hers. That only caused her to lean in further. "Where?" she screamed, and I shook my head wildly.

"I'll never tell you."

She let out a cry of outrage, that caused me to shrink back. Some of the onlookers winced, others stood stone-faced. Some looked pleased.

"Filthy mudblood," she spat. She straightened out my right arm. "Last chance," she hissed. "Where did you send Harry Potter?"

"Fine," I gasped. "Fine, I'll tell you."

She leaned in close to my face, satisfied. "Where—"

And then, I spit in her face.

I watched as hatred burned in her eyes. She bent over my right arm, pressing the tip of the blade against my skin. I thrashed wildly as she began to carve into my arm, trying to kick her off.

Flipendo! I thought. Impedimenta!

But I wasn't strong enough to even make her budge. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Malfoy step forward.

Silencio.

It was the first thing I thought to do, and when I saw his lips set, I realized it had worked, and he'd got the message.

Don't do anything.

Bellatrix leaned away and sneered at me. My eyes flicked to the right, and I saw the letter M carved into my skin.

"Where is he?" she shrieked again, and I tried kicking her off me, which only seemed to anger her further. She began slicing away at my skin, and although I had promised myself not to give her the satisfaction of screaming in pain, I did so anyway.

I screamed like my life depended on it. I screamed and wailed, kicked and writhed. I screamed not only because of the horrible pain and the burning fury I felt, but it was a promise to myself. A promise that this was the last time I would feel this helpless. That I would come back for revenge, and skin her alive, put her back together, and do it over and over again until she cried the same way.

Today, I screamed because I had truly earned the right to.

⚡️⚡️⚡️

I could feel the horrid pain even after she was long done, standing over me like a maniac, demanding for me to tell her.

Shell cottage, I thought. Shell cottage. Don't say it. No matter what, don't tell her.

I could see scarlet liquid dripping from the wound, pouring onto the marble under my arm.

Mudblood.

The word hadn't been meant for me, but for Hermione Granger. I was a pureblood. My mother was a witch, my father was a wizard . . . I didn't have a single squib in the family for generations. No one had even married a muggle.

Think.

Thinking distracted from the pain.

I glanced towards Malfoy who was working his jaw, the rage evident in his steely eyes. His fists were clenched, and he was about to do something.

No.

I looked up, past Bellatrix, up at the chandelier. I had to do it. I would finally kill Bellatrix, and if I had to go down with her, so be it.

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to start severing your fingers one by one," she said, kneeling next to me. "Potter betrayed you. He's gone—he didn't bother coming back for you. Just tell me." When I stayed quiet, chin trembling, she turned to Malfoy.

"Come here," she said.

He looked up, shock in his eyes.

"Why?" He'd undone the silencio spell I'd put on him.

"You're a Legilemens. Look into her mind."

"I—"

"Do it, Draco!"

He sat down next to me, his eyes on the thick puddle of blood under my arm.

He looked into my eyes, and then, he entered my mind.

He began shuffling through memories, just for the heck of it.

He had taught me Occlumency. I wasn't strong enough, but I'd try.

Concentrating, I pushed him out. Simply, easily, he backed out. He grasped my good wrist. To the ones watching, it might've looked like he did it in aggression, but I knew he was doing it to comfort me. He focused, entering my mind again, but with a small shove, I pushed him out.

He stood up.

"She's too strong. It's Granger, I'm sure she's mastered Occlumency by now."

Bellatrix stamped her foot in frustration, pushing Malfoy out of the way, and removing him from the circumference of the chandelier. I smiled.

"Damn it!" she screeched. "How dare you smile, wench." She whipped out her wand, pointing it at me. "The Dark Lord is stronger than all of us put together. You'll just have to wait for him," she smirked.

I looked up at the chandelier, summoning one final surge of power.

Diffindo.

There was a sickening silence, a sway of light, a small, painstaking creak.

And then, the chandelier came plummeting down.