Hermione let out a strained little grunt when she felt the wand press more firmly against her neck, digging into the skin, into her throat. She craned her neck up, her own thoughts racing. She was trapped, she knew that much, but what this witch had in mind for her was anyone's guess. Looking up, she could see the dark scowl on Bellatrix's lips and those eyes raking over her smaller body. There was a plan coming together behind those eyes and she knew she wasn't going to like it. All Hermione could do was steel herself, put up her defenses, and wait.<br/><br/>But she was caught off guard by Bellatrix's silent magic, and before she knew what was happening, Hermione spun to the ground, with some of the witch's weight on the small of her back. Shockingly for a place like Knockturn Alley, the floor was clean, but it was still cold and hard against her face as Bellatrix pushed it down. And that wasn't the least-comfortable thing Bellatrix was doing. She felt the tip of her wand against the back of her neck, then start its way down slowly. Only a few inches in, and the fabric of her cloak and top had begun to feel looser, to split apart, and Hermione gasped in shock. She was slicing away her clothes, and if she struggled, something else was bound to get sliced!<br/><br/>"No..." she groaned against the floor as she felt the cold air on more and more pale skin. Soon Bellatrix would be able to peel those clothes away, and already her neck and shoulders were on display as the thread keeping her clothes together sheared and unraveled. "No, please don't..." Her cheeks were burning from embarrassment, but she couldn't struggle without drawing blood from Bellatrix's smooth, sinister strokes, so all she could do was beg. And Hermione knew full well how far<i>begging</i>got you with Bellatrix Lestrange...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>