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viii. Darkness At The
End Of The Tunnel
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THEA LIKES CLEAR, so the fact that they're moving from place to place so fast that time has turned into a foggy blur doesn't sit well with her at all.

It doesn't help that they keep bumping into Snatchers when they visit wizarding villages, and sometimes even in the odd Muggle suburb, and every one of them refers to her as Lyra. It was this that got them out of one sticky situation, when one Snatcher that Thea thinks didn't even know what year it was, actually thought she was Lyra.

So she cursed him so hard that when he passed out, he knocked his friend out too when he flopped over, and they were able to Disapparate.

Ron was completely blown away... Hermione, not so much. Thea's not letting it bother her.

Right now though, Hermione and Ron are at the supermarket to find lunch. She's sitting on a log, next to Harry. Neither of them have spoken in a while, but when they glance at each other at the same time, Thea sighs. The fire they had started roars away before them.

"Harry," she says softly, shuffling up on the log and taking his hand. "Are you alright?"

Harry shakes his head softly. She catches his eyes, and presses the other hand not clutched by his to his cheek. "Then talk to me."

He pauses for a moment.

"If you could have any of the Hallows....which would you choose?"

"The stone," she replies immediately, not even having to think about it.

"Me too."

The crackling of the flames before her ignite a memory, one that was disturbed the other day at Xenophilius' house.

"Don't think I'm mad, but to me there are two versions of my mother," she glances up at him, taking in the softness in his expression. It spurs her on. "Lyra Vincent, the cruel, terrible woman she died as...and Lyra Cindercroft. The one who'd braid my hair, and sing to me, and the one who I'd always turn to when I was lost. I'd quite like to bring her back. Even if she was just an act."

She leans her head on his shoulder. The jolt of warmth that springs through her is so comforting, she leans in further and smiles when he squeezes her hand.

"I would never think you were mad, T."

She laughs a little. "I think you're about the only one, love."

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"That locket was your mum's right?"

Thea's head snaps to Hermione's voice. It's the first time she's initiated a civil conversation with Thea since...since...the thing, so it startles her beyond belief. She can only stare at the girl and blink profusely.

"Well, it was dad's, but you heard Dumbledore's note with it about fire, so I guess it must have something to do with her, why?"

"Because I'm thinking the worst. You don't think there's a chance it could be a..." she watches the frown form in between the girl's brow.

"A Horcrux?"

"Yes," Hermione mutters, dropping Thea's gaze and plucking the locket from her hands.

Thea watches at the girl weighs the metal necklace in her hands, and although she doesn't have it anymore, its heaviness still sits on her.

"You have a point, but I don't think it is."

"But –"

"Lyra was a cruel, selfish person, but..." Thea smiles sadly for a moment, willing the tears to dry from her eyes. "...she wasn't beyond human. She loved my dad, she...she loved me in her own way. I just think there's something inside it. Maybe a picture?"

Hermione drapes it around her neck, and although she appears different to Thea, like a distorted version of the fiercely smart, terrifying friend she knows, the girl's smile is still stark and clear.

"I'll wear it for you. I know it's getting to you."

Thea wants to burst with gratitude. "Thank you."

Although the snow and frosty air the woeful winter months brought had stuck stubbornly to her bones, it seems to melt into the fresh warmth of spring over night. March rolls around, and to her delight brings a thin, but present blanket of mildness over them, no matter where they seem to move to.

"Happy birthday, Ron," she says to her friend, pulling him into a hug when it hits March the first.

He smiles, before returning to the radio, trying to tune it to Potterwatch, the station they'd discovered when they'd left and the one they had introduced to Hermione and Harry the other month.

Thea is staring ahead of her at nothing, when suddenly, Ron's loud, excited voice strikes through her head like she's just been punched in the face and she leaps about a foot in the air.

"I've got it! I've got it! password was "Albus"! Get in here, Harry!"

"Of course it was Albus," Thea murmurs to herself, so that no one else can hear, and makes her way over to Ron and Hermione and sits down next to them on the floor, as Harry sits on Ron's other side.

She indulges in the familiar voices that are blurs in her ears, and she merely absorbs the sounds of them, of Fred and George, realising only now how much she really does miss everyone.

It's not until there's a mention of Dean's name that she tunes in, her eyes wide and her hair dangling over the little radio between the four of them as she leans in. Her heart leaps into her mouth.

"It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been travelling with Tonks, Cresswell and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news.."

Thea swears loudly under her breath, a little shaken but comforted by the fact that they think Dean managed to escape. It's not enough for her, but she knows as heart-stopping as it is, it'll have to do. It'll have to do, for now. She knows it's all she's going to get. It's enough, she tells herself. Dean's a great wizard. He'll be fine. He'll be enough. He has to be.

Thea clings onto all the familiar voices that flutter through the radio and into her ears, from Kinslgey Shacklebolt, the one who exposed the ugly scar on her left arm to her friends, to Lupin, whose voice warms her so thoroughly, she lets out a noise of glee. Her favourite teacher, right up there with McGonagall. She snickers a little at the words, "...we would urge even the most devoted of Harry's supporters against following Hagrid's lead. "Support Harry Potter" parties are unwise in the current climate,", and earns herself a small glare from Hermione. "It's not funny, Hagrid could've gotten hurt!"

Thea rolls her eyes, "I'm not laughing at that, it's just the way they said it –"

"Shut up!" Harry hisses.

"...One simple test: check whether the thing that's glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it's safe to look into its eyes, although, if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the last thing you ever do."

Thea's gaze flickers to Harry, as a laugh leaves him. The smile that stretches across her lips can't be helped; his laugh has to be one of her favourite sounds, especially now she hardly ever hears it. She wants to hug him and never let him go.

"...and for our last announcement...Rapier, go ahead."

Thea frowns a little, listening to Fred as he speaks.

"It's not unknown that the Death Eaters are campaigning for information on the supposed death of Jude Lestrange. Nothing has been confirmed, other than the fact that he went on the run at the start of August, however, we are under the impression that it may be a false alarm in order to leer Thea Cindercroft out of hiding, a source at Hogwarts has overheard. So Thea, if you're listening, don't be an idiot, and keep plodding on."

"Thank you very much, Rapier. Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: the next password will be "Mad-Eye." Keep each other safe: keep faith. Goodnight."

"Why do they say that like I'd go bursting into the Ministry Of Magic right now, all 'tell me what happened to Jude or I'll end every single one of you'?" Thea asks, a little annoyed.

Harry and Hermione exchange glances, but Ron looks directly at her.

"Because you would."

"I would not," she replies indignantly, folding her arms across her chest, as though that will hide the fact that she has contemplated it at least ten times already. "But anyway. I told you! He might still be alive!" Thea exclaims, feeling a little relief flood her body.

"They're good, eh?" Ron says to them, and Thea can't miss the gleam of pride in his eyes.

"Brilliant," Harry responds.

"It's so brave of them. If they were found..." Hermione trails off.

"Well, they keep on the move, don't they? Like us."

"But did you hear what Fred said? He's abroad! He's still looking for the wand, I knew it!"

"Harry –"

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol –"

Thea's eyes widen in horror, and she feels her body start to tremble.

"HARRY, NO!" she bellows in unison with Ron, but it's too late.

" – demort's after the Elder Wand!"

"The name's Taboo! We figured it out ages ago, and I confirmed it to you the other week!"

Thea hears the loud crack outside of the tent, and her insides turn to ice. All she can think to do is pull her necklace from her pocket and throw it around Harry's neck, tucking it down his shirt and putting a finger to her lips, as he stares at her, dumbfounded.

"I told you, Harry, we can't say it anymore – we've got to put the protection back around us – quickly – it's how they find –"

There's a silence that plagues the tent, thick and foreboding over them. The only sounds are the frantic spinning of the Sneakoscope on the table, and voices she's sure are some of the last they want to hear.

She gulps, her heart pressing hard against her chest as she stands as still as possible, and Ron clicks the Deluminator to turn out the lights.

"Come out of there with your hands up! We know you're in there! You've got about half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"

For a moment, the four of them are stood in darkness, until Hermione points her wand at Harry, and a streak of white light strikes him. Thea doesn't question it.

"Come on, filth," she's bundled into a chest, and all that plagues her is a putrid, sickening smell of sweat and blood.

"At least I know what a shower is," she snaps, as the person drags her from the tent and throws a kick to the back of her leg. She refuses to let out a yelp, and although her eyes sting terribly, she relishes in the pride that blossoms across her chest.

She finds herself searching frantically for Harry, whose face seems to have doubled to its normal size, and she recognises the Stinging Jinx Hermione had sent at him immediately, feeling a strange mix of pity for the pain he must be feeling, but a surge of admiration for Hermione's quick thinking.

"Get – off – her!" she hears Ron's voice, followed by a loud thump; she grimaces. She knows Ron's just been punched in the face.

"No! Leave him alone, leave him alone!"

"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list. Delicious girl...what a treat –"

"Lay a finger on her and there won't be a hair of you left to bury," Thea snarls, head snapping to the wolfish figure leering at Hermione.

Fenrir Greyback, she thinks. She knows for sure it's him when he turns around slowly, his eyes turning wildly hungry and excited when he sees it's her.

"Thea Cindercroft..."

"Thea Cindercroft? But if we've got Lyra's bitch, that must mean...we've got Potter."

There's a ringing in her ears where she curses herself for speaking, but the rage bubbling in her stomach if any of them dared to even look at Hermione rises to the surface, and she's struck by nausea again.

"Sorry to disappoint, but you haven't," Thea says nonchalantly, earning a glare from Greyback.

"We'll see about that, Cinders. What happened to you, ugly?"

Thea watches as they stare at Harry, her breathing turning erratic and her heart throbbing so hard against her chest she wonders if it's possible to bruise there.

"Been stung."

"Looks like it."

"What's your name?" Greyback demands.

"Dudley. Vernon Dudley."

"Check the list, Scabior. And what about you, Ginger?"

"Stan Shunpike."

"Like 'ell you are. We know Stan Shunpike. 'e's put a bit of work our way.

Thea flinches as she watches Ron get punched again, her stomach doing a somersault and a yelp leaving her lips.

"I'b Bardy. Bardy Weasley."

"A Weasley? So you're related to blood traitors even if you're not a Mudblood. And lastly, your pretty little friend..."

"Easy, Greyback."

"Oh, I'm not going to bite just yet. We'll see if she's a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?"

"Penelope Clearwater," Hermione says, and Thea feels relief flush over her. Hermione's good. She knows it's convinced them.

"What's your Blood Status?"

"Half-blood," she replies.

There's a pause, when one of them, she thinks Greyback called him Scabior, gives her a hard, confused look. "That's definitely Cindercroft."

"I know, you idiot! Bind them up with the other two prisoners!"

Thea is thrown to the floor and dragged by her hair into a sitting position, and feels herself being tied to someone.

"Harry? Thea?"

"Dean?" Thea whispers, at the same time as Harry.

"It is you, Harry! If they find out who they've got – they're Snatchers, they're only looking for truants to sell for gold –"

"There's no Vernon Dudley on 'ere, Greyback."

Thea's insides curdle. She squeezes her eyes shut, desperate to bring herself back down to earth. She's about to spiral into a terrible panic, and that will be no good to anyone. None of them have wands. She needs to calm down. She find herself reaching for Dean, and although her wrist is bent backwards on itself so that it aches, the familiar warmth of his fingers soothes her.

"'Ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet!"

Thea sucks in a mouthful of dry air, again and again. This will not be good.

"'Hermione Granger, the Mudblood who is know to be travelling with 'Arry Potter.'"

"You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you."

"It isn't me! It isn't me!" Hermione shrieks, her voice so frightened she may as well have just told them it is her.

"Should'a realised the second we found little Cinders over here. "Hermione Granger...known to be travelling with Harry Potter. Well, this changes things, doesn't it?"

"We taking them to the Ministry?"

"To hell with the Ministry. You-Know-Who's been using the Malfoys' place as a base. We'll take the boy there."

"Are you completely sure it's him? Cause if it ain't, Greyback, we're dead."

"Who's in charge here? I say that's Potter, and him plus his wand, that's two hundred thousand Galleons right there!"

"All right! All right! We're in! And what about the rest of 'em, Greyback?"

"Well," Thea feels herself be dragged up along with the others, and a face is straight in her's, covered with a thin sheen of grime and twisting into a look of greedy anticipation. "Little Miss Vincent...the Dark Lord will be happy to see you!"

"Can't say the feeling's mutual," she snarls, recoiling away from the man. Scabior, she thinks.

A wave of snickers sounds through the group, and although Thea has started to tremble with complete terror, she keeps her mask intact and refuses to let even a flicker of fear flash across her face.

"We've been told you're like Lyra." Scabior grins.

Thea raises her eyebrows. "You've been told because you were never high up enough to find out for yourself."

Thea watches in a sick amusement as the smirk falls from Scabior's face, and his face morphs into a sneer.

"Let's get a move on, then!"

Thea is dragged upwards as the Snatchers Disapparate with them, Scabior's hand tight around her wrist and his nails digging in so hard that she can see that he's drawn blood. She wriggles as best as she can, half-heartedly trying to shake him off, but she knows she couldn't really escape. She'd leave the others.

They tumble out of the familiar, tight tube and into a country lane, a huge, dark mansion leering at them in the near distance. Its pillars and fountains throw murky shadows around it as far as Thea can see, and even from here, she despises the place down to her very core. Her prison last summer. Her living hell, stands before her.

Thea rolls her eyes at the Snatcher who starts to rattle the wrought-iron gate.

"How do we get in? They're locked, Greyback, I can't – blimey!"

"Well, they aren't just going to leave them open so anyone can waltz in, are they – OW!"

There's a sharp agony that fills her abdomen. The Snatcher holding her has just jabbed his wand into her skin so hard, she can feel the scalding of the sparks it spits out, almost in protest.

"Keep your mouth shut, gobby."

"We've captured Potter!"

Thea's breath hitches as the gates fling aside, almost with a palpable excitement. She keeps her head down and tries to control the erratic thudding of her heart, to no avail. She finds herself hoping that Draco's here; he's her only chance.

Yeah, as if he's brave enough, she thinks bitterly.

Screwing her eyes shut, she rests her head against one of the other prisoners she's tied to, trying to tell herself they can get out of this. They just have to think. Come on, Thea! Think, think, think! What would Jude do?

"What is this?"

Thea recognises the cool, collected voice of Narcissa Malfoy immediately.

"We've got Potter...and Cindercroft."

She's yanked by her braid to the front of the prisoners, her eyes wide and brimming with fear as Narcissa's unreadable eyes meet hers. Thea watches her carefully, trying to discern what the woman is thinking, but she can't.

"And the boy?"

The group of prisoners is moved again, Thea almost tripping as they're spun around roughly, until she's looking up the garden path and at the rolling hills and fields clustered around the manor for miles.

"I know 'e's swollen, ma'am, but it's 'im! If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And this 'ere, see the girl? The Mudblood who's been travelling around with 'im, ma'am. Obviously, Cindercroft as well, we're under the impression she's his girl."

There's a chorus of retching sounds from the group, and if Thea's hands weren't tied, she'd be giving them both of her middle fingers.

Pricks.

"Bring them in."

When they're shoved into the hallways of the mansion, Thea eyes everything she can in the scarce light, that seems to cast more shadows than illuminate the place, to see if she recognises it. She doesn't. It's a stranger, and she feels the ominous air she did when she first set foot in Grimmauld Place. Only this is worse.

"Follow me. My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

Thea wants to scream.

Draco is here. And she'll have to watch him, her friend, rat out her boyfriend to the ones who want him dead. She wishes she could pass out or something, and be flung to the side so she doesn't have to see it, but she remains awake and alive with jitters and sick nerves seem to flood her entire body, picking at her brain and jeering at her.

"What is this?"

Thea hears Lucius Malfoy's voice, the chandelier ahead making his white-blond hair seem to glow.

Thea despises him.

"They've got the Cindercroft girl, and they say they've got Potter." Narcissa informs.

Thea's eyes land on Draco, who she watches drain of colour. He frowns, shakes his head in the slightest way possible that tells her they're absolutely done for. She sees Draco's expression, characterised only by stark, terrible hopelessness and looks away, her eyes filling with tears when she realises that there is nothing to be done now.

They're not going to get out of this place. At least, not alive.

"Draco, come here."

Her heart starts to pound under her chest bone, fast and hard like a drum. It hurts.

She watches Draco intently, giving him a pleading look that he sees but doesn't acknowledge as he makes his way over to his mother, where she has Harry, who Thea is back to back with.

"Well, Draco? Is it Harry Potter?"

Thea inhales, and holds it for so long she turns dizzy.

"I can't – I can't be sure."

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer! Draco, if we are the ones who hand over Potter and his little girlfriend over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven –"

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught them, I hope, Mr Malfoy?"

Thea is struck with sickness that rises up to her throat.

"Of course not, of course not!"

Thea hears the voices arguing about what caused Harry's face to swell like it has, and although she keeps her guard up, her eyes pierce into Draco's face until he has no choice but to look at her.

His eyes are full of tears, she can see that much from where she is, around ten feet away from him. They lock with hers for so long it could've been a year, and she inhales a shaky gulp of air, setting every cell of her body straight so as not to draw attention to herself, and allows her lips to move.

Jude? she mouths.

Draco's gaze flickers to the ground for a second, which is long enough for her stomach to feel like it plummets through her feet, through the perfectly shiny and polished floor and to the core of the earth, when he meets her eyes again and shrugs, so subtly she almost misses it.

She could be sick. It's this not knowing that eats away at her, that destroys her slowly like a corrosive chemical. She just needs to know, so she can move forward. Whether that be smiling with relief, or dragging herself from a pit of empty darkness and trying to dilute her guilt for years. She needs to know, so she knows which one to start.

She's about to catch Draco's eye again and tell him that she's glad he's OK, when a new voice cuts through the room and everything within her seems to fall apart. She wonders how she's still standing, especially when those hollow, pitch-like eyes land on her and that smile, that twisted, relishing smirk crawls onto the woman's face.

"What is this? What's happened, Cissy – oh, hello, Theabel. I've been looking forward to seeing you."

Thea's mouth freezes closed. The terror rips through her body like a tide, her blood full of it like it's what's feeding her muscles in place of oxygen.

"Can't say I feel the same way," she spits out, earning only a cackle from Bellatrix.

"But surely, as well – this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"

"Yes, yes, it's Granger! And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!"

"Potter? Are you sure? Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!"

Thea watches in helpless horror, and everything around her slows when Bellatrix goes to press the swirling Dark Mark imprinted on her left arm, right where her own mark is. She knows, whether or not Lord Voldemort comes tonight, she'll die. Bellatrix will not let her leave here alive. Not this time.

"STOP! Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"

Thea's eyes follow Bellatrix's sweeping figure as she marches over to one of the Snatchers.

"What is that?"

"Sword," she hears him say.

"Give it to me."

"It's not yours, Missus, it's mine, I reckon I found it."

Thea grimaces as a flash of scarlet light blinds her for a second and the unmistakable noise of a body hitting the ground sounds in her ears.

"What d'you think you're playing at, woman?"

More sounds like the one before follow, a string of curses leaving Bellatrix's lips, and more fear seems to flow through her body, replacing her blood now rather than just joining it in her veins. She knows fury like the back of her hand, but hers is hot and passionate and something like flames, the product of what she had lived with for seventeen years – hell.

"Where did you find this sword? Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"

"It was in their tent."

But Bellatrix, Bellatrix's is ice, cold and unfeeling. This woman does not care. She has command of others' mortality the second they happen to be in her presence, and it's a torturer – this anger carved DEATH EATER into Thea's skin like it's clay, like it was being shaped for decoration. Maybe this is how her slow, hard and cold death comes.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback." Thea's head turns to Draco's once again, to see he's looking away. She wants to plead to him, beg him to help them, he's supposed to be her friend, they're supposed to look out for each other, but she wouldn't put him in danger like that. He's in the same position she was the other year. She couldn't. She won't let him perish, because she knows a part of her would go with him.

"Wait! All except...except for the Mudblood...and my little friend, Cinders."

"Don't call me that," she hisses, as she's cut free from the others along with Hermione, who glances at her in terror.

"Oh, so you've been missing my good-for-nothing son, have you? I'm not," Bellatrix lets out a cackle, one that converts into shivers that flicker down her spine.

Thea's eyes meet Harry's helplessly as he's dragged away with a bawling Ron by Greyback, down the stairs to the cellar, and out of sight.

"Show me your scar," Bellatrix demands.

"No! It means nothing, I'm not one of you, I never was and I never will be," Thea snarls, pushing Hermione behind her and grabbing her hand.

Hermione grips her hand so hard she wouldn't be surprised if the circulation in it stops. She can hear the girl's whimpers, as Bellatrix's wand points at Thea, and that dreaded word passes her lips.

"Crucio!"

Thea's lungs seem to fill with concrete as her airways constrict and her bones seems to set alight. She sucks in a breath, trying to separate her emotions from the agony filling her body. She keeps her eyes set deadly on Bellatrix, who stole her life away, who never gave Jude one to begin with. The curse stops, just as she feels a sharp, deadly acid crawling up her throat.

"Liar! We all know you considered it, for him, for Atlas, for Lyra! Even your little boyfriend, even your friends know it, don't you Mudblood? Perfect Theabel nearly gave into the power, didn't you? CRUCIO!"

"I didn't!" She cries out, crushing Hermione's hand, but the girl doesn't move it. Thea thinks Hermione might be sobbing, but she can't tell over the throbbing in her head and ears, as the room starts to bend and spin around her. She can't stop the scream peeling its way out of her lungs this time.

"THEA!"

She jumps a little at the sound of Ron's scream of her name, shudders filling her when she realises that he and Harry can hear every word of this.

"Whatever makes you feel better," Thea mutters, glancing away for a second. Her voice is ever so slightly extinguished, as the pain dims, less colourful than it was, because no matter how much she hates it, part of her knows Bellatrix is right.

All of her is exhausted, and she knows she'd be down on the floor in a heap if it weren't for Hermione behind her. She knows she can stay strong. So she will be. She'll try, at least.

The woman before her smirks, a glint in her eye as she realises she's won this one.

"What happened to him? Where is he? Is he alive?"

Thea can't stop the questions spilling past her lips, and she never thought she'd get to the point where she's so desperate she'd be asking Bellatrix Lestrange for the answers.

"I could tell you but..." Thea lets out a little cry as Bellatrix slinks into place beside her without her noticing, grabbing her arm and pushing up the sleeve of her jumper until the words are fully visible, save for the leg of the R being hidden of DEATH EATER.

"It's much better watching you suffer. Watching you drive yourself more mad than you already are," she whispers, and Thea flinches.

Hermione's grip on her hand is suddenly dragged away from her. In the silence, Thea can still hear a familiar voice screaming; Ron. It's almost crazed, the way he says Hermione's name, then hers, and it echoes off her bones and bounces around her skull, almost like she's in the cellar with him.

"Now, I think it's time..." she pulls Hermione so harshly by her hair that the girl lets out a shriek, and Ron's voice bellowing her name splinters through the walls again.

Bellatrix pushes Hermione into Thea's arms, and she catches her, linking their hands together in a way to comfort her, even though it's lost. There's no such thing as comfort in this place, she knew that the second she stepped foot in it, "...you live up to that scar, Cinders. It's simple, really. You hold Mudblood still while I ask her questions, and if you so much as move – either of you – you die."

"Go. To. Hell."

Bellatrix slashes her wand at Thea, and her body freezes like a board around Hermione's, so that everything within her screams to move, but she can't. She recognises this feeling from Dumbledore's Army; the Body-Binding curse.

She wishes it was Neville who casted it.

Bellatrix flicks her wand again and a stinging, bleeding slice splits apart Thea's forehead, and her head aches at her inability to cry out, as the blood spills into her eyes and starts to blind her.

"I'm not making myself clear enough, am I?"

Bellatrix points her wand for a third time, this time in Hermione's face, who lets out a screech; Thea knows she just heard the girl's cheek cut open like her forehead, with a sickening gashing noise.

"I'll say it again, you traitorous little parasite! Hold her still, or you both die!"

Thea can't even glare at her, her face is so stretched by the curse. Agony fills her; her body is so rigid it's desperate to fall to the ground, but she forces herself to stay upright, to stay in the room. She cannot leave Hermione. Not here.

"Now, what else did you take from my vault?"

"I didn't take anything! We didn't take anything!"

"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringott's! Tell the truth, tell the truth! Crucio!"

Thea's heart grows cold, like a block of hard ice at the sound of Hermione's scream. There is physically nothing she can do; her arms feel like lead, secured around Hermione's trembling body, their hands still interlocked. Hermione squeezes it every time Bellatrix throws a Crucio spell at her, one that, although it doesn't hit Thea, barrels into her like a million tonnes of bricks.

"HERMIONE!"

Ron's voice cuts through the room again. Surely, it must have been at least half an hour by now.

Feeling starts to travel up her body, from goosebumps, to being able to wriggle her toes in her boots, and finally, her lungs can expand to their full size.

But not enough to move her feet. Not enough so her arms can keep her friend firmly against her chest.

Bellatrix drags Hermione from her, and Thea watches like a movie is playing in front of her; the familiar scene of the wand dancing through the air and flicking at Hermione's body on the ground. Hermione's screams latch onto Thea's heart, snaking within her ribcage, and she will never be able to prise them off for as long as she lives.

Mind, she's not sure that's going to be for very long anymore.

Then, her voice. It works up into a knot in the base of her throat, and comes out a strangled mess. She manages to wipe the drying blood from her eyes, so she can see again.

"STOP!"

Bellatrix looks up from Hermione, walking slowly towards Thea until she is right in her face. Thea might have been able to count the eyelashes she has, the amount of lines in her porcelain face. She can see the true deadness behind those eyes, and the serpent slithering through her bones sinks its teeth into her heart.

It haunts her. Especially when she swears she knows those eyes like the back of her hand.

"I will stop then. You can torture her. Or you both die. Go on, T. I know you want to."

There's a pause where they are staring into each other's eyes, the ones she undoubtedly gave her son. They are strange in Bellatrix's face. She hates it.

The woman moves a curl that has escaped from Thea's braid and pushes it behind her ear, which she leans into and whispers, "Maybe you can pretend she's Lyra."

"No," Thea says, quiet and cold, but strong and final.

Bellatrix is silent for a moment, and there's another screech of Hermione's name from Ron. No one in the room flinches.

"Go on, Theabel. You could be powerful, you know."

She feels a familiar feeling in her right hand: her wand being pressed into it. She's completely backed in a corner. If she refuses, Bellatrix will just use the Imperius Curse, or carry on hurting Hermione herself. That's when the tears start, in the back of her raw throat until they spill from her eyes and mouth as gut-wrenching sobs, that earn another yell of her name from Ron.

"Weak! Just weak! Even more spineless than Lyra! At least she could torture without needing a tissue! I suppose I'll carry on where I left off, shall I? –"

"I'll do it."

Thea's voice cracks, and her eyes meet Hermione's. The girl doesn't look scared. It startles Thea, that there's no sign of panic in those exhausted eyes.

Thea doesn't let herself look at Harry and Ron crawling up the steps for longer than half a second, and as she raises her wand, she feels Bellatrix's wand press into the skin on her neck, so hard that she's struggling breathe, and the air leaves her lips in strangled gasps.

"Go on, then!"

Ron screams again, but he's in the room this time, the wand in his hand pointing at Bellatrix and spilling red light. "Expelliarmus!"

The pressure on her throat is alleviated, and in Bellatrix's moment of shock, Thea manages to dive from her hold and towards Hermione on the floor, whose eyes are half shut.

"Hermione, please, wake up," she begs, tears falling down her face and dripping onto the girl's coat.

Hermione doesn't reply. All she can do is tremor, a light sheen of sweat visible over her now-greyish face. Thea can't tell if the girl can hear her, and she's just about relieved enough to jump in the air when Hermione gives somewhat of a signal that she's still clinging on through a small whine.

"Stupefy!" Thea screams, turning from her friend and flinging a spell at Greyback, who she hears thundering towards them.

Thea leaps to her feet, her wand ready, and she narrowly misses Harry as she sends another Stunning Spell at Lucius Malfoy, who just manages to duck away from it.

Then, Bellatrix's voice slices the air again, and Thea's body whirls around to face her, halting in fright as she takes in Bellatrix propping up Hermione's limp form, her small silver dagger held against her throat.

"STOP OR SHE DIES. Drop your wands. Drop them, or we'll see just how filthy her blood is."

Thea's wand clatters to the ground without a moment's hesitation.

"I said drop them!" Bellatrix screeches at Harry and Ron, and the snake tightens its jaw around Thea's heart when the red appears at Hermione's neck where the blade is.

"All right!" Harry snaps.

"Good! Draco, pick them up. The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!"

There's a moment, where Thea dares to look over her shoulder at Harry, desperate for one last look at him, at her Harry, the one she loves with everything in her. He's already looking at her, and they both know there's no way out of this one. Bellatrix begins to talk again, and she lets her ears soak up every syllable, the dread flowing through her so avidly it's like it's what's keeping her alive.

"Now. Cissy, I think we ought to tie up these little heroes again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. Keep the boys here though; they should see the end of little Theabel, although I imagine it'll send them mad before it really begins. Oh, I've been waiting for this one!"

Thea's body crackles with anger. "Well, it might surprise you that I'm a lot stronger than I was last time we met, Bella. Bring it on."

Bellatrix laughs.

But all that follows is a strange, quiet squeak above their heads, prominent enough to have everyone looking up, until the huge chandelier on the ceiling crashes through the air with an eerie sort of music made from the dangling strings of crystal, ones that remind Thea of tears.

"Get out the way!"

It's Draco's voice that mobilises her when she realises he's talking to her, and she dives aside, just as a cluster of raining crystal falls into her face and hair and leaves little cuts all over her head, as she lands on her knees, that sting in protest.

Thea gets up as the silence plagues the room again, and creeps towards Draco, who's about to hand over the wands before Bellatrix can get up.

"Be careful," she whispers at the same time as him.

She manages to offer him a tiny smile, about to take the wands from Draco, just as Harry crashes over the armchair and snatches the wands from Draco. She stumbles back in shock, gawking at the scene before her, as a small, rather sweet-looking House Elf catches her attention on the other side of the room.

"You must not hurt Harry Potter!"

"Kill him, Cissy!"

Thea can't stop the smirk tugging at her lips when the elf clicks his fingers and Narcissa's wand flies from her hand.

"You dirty little monkey! How dare you take a witch's wand? How dare you defy your masters?"

"Dobby has no master! Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"

"Ron, catch – and GO!"

Thea barely registers Harry's voice; the boy drags the goblin clinging onto Gryffindor's sword for dear life from the wreckage, throws him over his shoulder, then seizes her hand, pulling her after him.

She dares herself to look at Bellatrix and catch her eyes, watching with dread building up in her stomach as the woman's knife spins delicately and skilfully through the air towards them, just as Harry takes Dobby's hand and they spin, Disapparating.

But Thea's dread is not left behind at the Malfoys'.

They are sucked through blackness for mere moments that seem to stretch forever, until they tumble out onto wet sand, and that salty smell she knows so well fills her with calm and relief.

"Thea? Love, are you alright?"

The light around her is blurry, her vision split and confused. She thinks maybe it's Harry speaking to her, but she knows it can't be when she hears him let out a harrowing cry of "HELP!"

But she can't move to help him, no matter how much her exhausted body screams at her too.

She feels arms tuck under her head and knees, and she knows that smell, that comforting, "You'll be alright, Tiger, I've got you, no one else will hurt you now."

She knows it's Dean who's holding her, and it's the overwhelming trust and relief that floods her useless body that allows her to fall asleep, knowing for sure that with him around, she really will be alright.

Even if it's just for a little while.