Hermione's wails cut through the echoing room – not screams, not yells, but gurgling, animalistic noises of agony that sounded like they tore from her throat bleeding and ragged, and Draco stuffed his knuckles into his mouth and moaned softly as he listened. His body was wracked with tension, muscles cramping and horror grabbing him and shaking him like a rag doll, and he couldn't block the noise out. It was awful, it was horrible, and it just kept going, and going, and going – hoarse, strangled shrieks and wails, and awful, bubbling, choking sounds, and Draco swore over and over as he tried to figure out what to do and came up with nothing, his eyes clenched shut and his teeth bruising his knuckles as he bit down.