"When we get the chance, Granger, you are going, and I am not, and that is fucking final, do you understand me?" He stares down at her implacably, waiting – grabbing her arm when she began to turn away, and repeating the question, the words grating out of his mouth, furious and cold. "Do. you. understand. me?" His bony fingers dig bruising hard into her skin, and she can see in his face that he knows exactly how much it is hurting her. Her chin trembles despite herself and tears spill over and down her cheeks, and that old snake of fear that has slept in her belly undisturbed for so long lifts its head, reminding her in little jabs and shivers of what he has done to her.