Hermione looked down at the wound on her arm, a constant reminder of who she was. She could remember how it felt having Bellatrix sit on her and pin her arm down as she brutally carved the letters into her skin. She felt her flesh tear until the pressure of the blade popped her skin open and her blood poured out and pool on the floor. She could feel Bellatrix’s breath on her face screaming at her, demanding where the sword had come from, the fear in her eyes and the anger, Hermione had never felt so scared. She couldn’t fail now, she couldn’t fail the Order and she couldn’t fail the world, she was relentless in her pursuit to hold onto her secrets. When she was able to look around briefly in the hope that she would still be able to plan her escape she could see Malfoy standing next to his mother, he was gripping her hand at his side, his eyes terror stricken at the sight of what his aunt was doing. 