Hermione looked up at the shops, then back down at the shred of parchment with the name of the establishment she was looking for. She had heard of it through reputation only, and reputation said it was difficult to find if you weren't trying hard enough. Well, Hermione's perceptive nature only took her so far in this crazy world of witches and wizards - doubly crazy in Knockturn Alley - and this shop was certainly testing both her brain and her patience. She turned onto a little-used, twisted side street that she was (pretty) sure she hadn't gone down before. At the very least, it was sparsely occupied, so she had a chance to relax a little bit.<br/><br/>And it may have been that Hermione was doing her best to remain inconspicuous and to look out for herself. But shortly after she turned down that street, she felt a set of fingernails digging into her wrist beneath her cloak. Scarier still was the feeling of a wand tip pressing into her back. And then that voice. You could hear how twisted its owner was just from those few words that were hissed into her ear. Without anyone else on the narrow, darkened street, there was nobody to even think of helping her, although she doubted anyone on a busier street down here would do much more than that. She knew whose voice it was, too, it was a voice she wouldn't easily forget. Her nails dug in firmly, and the cold sweat that started beading on the back of her neck kept her from concentrating hard enough to simply Apparate away. She didn't have her wand out, she couldn't cast her silent spells, and she was in the clutches of one of the most dangerous witches alive.<br/><br/>In other words, she was trapped. "Let me go," she snarled, trying and failing to twist her wrist free of Bellatrix's steel grip.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>