Pain. It stole her breath and settled in her teeth, radiating everywhere. It was slower to fade this time, lingering in her joints, slowing to a dull throb when Alecto’s wand lowered. Screaming was fine, Hermione thought dazedly, screaming was good. Information was bad. But screaming was just fine. Merlin, she had been doing a lot of that. Her throat was ragged and frayed. When she coughed, it was wet. 