The bolt slid into place and sounded through the room like a gavel, although Bellatrix seemed to be carrying out the sentence before it was even read - and likewise seemed to delight in withholding it from Hermione as long as possible. She was taunting her, teasing her, drawing out her suffering, and even though she knew this was the kind of thing that Bellatrix liked to do, that didn't make it any less frightening. She was locked up in a room all alone with Bellatrix Lestrange, and Hermione could think of no worse fate for herself.<br/><br/>She stood there, frozen in place, as the dark witch advanced on her. That sharp, crooked wand scratched the smooth skin on her neck as she used it to lift Hermione's head and move it around. Even the last few years of teenage growth had left Hermione shorter than Bellatrix, and she snarled with as much fire as she could - which still wasn't much - as she propped the younger witch's chin up and forced her to look up at her. The only flash of teeth Hermione showed were the ones from that growl, and if Bellatrix thought she could get any kind of smile from her with anything short of a Cruciatus curse, Hermione thought, she'd be sorely mistaken. Not that Hermione was eager to take a Cruciatus from Bellatrix, either...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>