"Hmm, perhaps the pollution in your blood runs deeper than we assumed." And quicker than Hermione could react, Bellatrix had cut the sleeves off of her arms along with several cuts on both. Blood trickled from the many cuts at a slow yet steady pace and Hermione forgot all about trying not to cry. She watched as her blood ran from her arms soaking the blankets beneath her, marring Draco's bed with it. With each slice on her arm, she felt a stab in her mind as Bellatrix attempted another forced entry. Hermione sobbed through her teeth as she tried to pull forth a memory to fool Bellatrix with. But it was no use. Each memory she pulled forward, Bellatrix grasped in her mental fingers and crushed to a powder that slipped from Hermione's memory.