A/N: Have had writer's block for awhile, but this plot keeps circling back to me. Not sure how often I'll update, but it's essentially connected one-shots on Hermione, The Malfoys, and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Pain. There comes a time when you choose with how you deal with it. You can fight it. You can shove it down and try to ignore it. But Hermione knew that the best way to cope was to accept it. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it is there. And there it will be. Tears leaked from her eyes as she laid on the floor of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor, eyes glazed yet burning with an intensity that the occupants of the room marveled at.

Crucio!

Hermione's hand twitched, crumpling into a fist before gracefully releasing, and her eyes closed briefly, before opening again and continuing her contemplation of the painting that hung on the wall. It was impressionist, but as it was done by a wizard, the strokes actually swirled and dabbled together, giving a more vivid approach to the art movement she adored.

Bellatrix tilted her head. The girl in front of her was no longer responding to her questions, having said she told the truth over and over and would not lie. Bellatrix's initial plan was to torture the filthy blooded girl to insanity but the obstinate girl simply wouldn't. If it weren't for her blood, she'd make an excellent Death Eater, or training asset. How is she not breaking? Bellatrix had easily broken minds before, but this mud blooded girl was unbroken and unbent. Bellatrix had to smile, for if it wasn't for her filthy blood she'd want this girl for her own. The girl was what every pureblood should dream to be— minus the filthy blood. Bellatrix could at least announce to the world the truth of the girl's blood despite her admirable qualities. She took out her favorite knife from her boot and cursed the blade with everlasting effect. The girl's wound would never fade and let everyone know exactly what she was, even if she could pass for more.

Hermione felt her left arm being tugged at and lazily turned her head away from the beautiful painting she was contemplating. Bellatrix grinned lopsidedly, with her disgusting teeth on display, making Hermione shudder. Being raised by dentists, she simply couldn't bear to see teeth in such disarray. She registered a soft snort of laughter being stifled in the background, and a flick of her eyes told her that Draco Malfoy had used his occlumency skills and was peering into her current consciousness. Hermione closed her eyes and thought "Malfoy, it's quite rude to intrude on one's private thoughts" and when she opened her eyes again, her mask of stone unchanged, she thought she she saw a ghost of a smirk. With his parents flanking him, she could see they were trying to hide the curious admiration of her. A new, sharp pain occurred and Hermione turned her eyes back to the woman hunched over her, scrawling a word with a knife into her arm, marking her like a fucking Death Eater. Mudblood. As if the word held any meaning anymore. Hermione accepted the pain of the knife, her right hand balling into a tight fist, before releasing and even starting to drum on the floor like she used to do on the tables in the library while waiting for Harry or Ron to finish something they were drawing out ridiculously slowly.

"Your handwriting is atrocious. I should have written it myself." Hermione heard herself say, causing Bellatrix to pause, curiously, and the Malfoy family to stifle laughter.

"You are marked forever as what you are, it's not meant to be pretty" The woman with the terrible teeth spat.

"That's fine, but even I could do a better job"

"Here, Mudblood, take the knife. Carve into your flesh what you are. Imperio!" Bellatrix shoved the knife into Hermione's hand, accidentally scraping her own finger on the blade. Barely even a drop of blood was drawn, but Bellatrix didn't notice— she was focused on maintaining her curse which Hermione was easily shrugging off, but still doing exactly as desired. Hermione wrote the word over again, in a more legible and steady script. Bellatrix was impressed; she knew the girl was in more control of herself than she should be, but she followed the command and then dropped the knife on the floor between them. As a reward for following through so well, and also for the withstanding of the brutal torture that had fractured so many other minds, Bellatrix vanished the first mutilation on Hermione's arm.

"You've done well, Mudblood. If not for your birth, you would have been worthy of the House of Black. It's almost a waste that I will have to break you." Bellatrix found herself saying, readying herself for another round of torturing the girl.

"Tell that to your Aunt Walburga's portrait. What a bitch." Hermione smiled lazily, turning her head away to look at the painting again. "Mrs. Malfoy, I must say you do have excellent taste in decoration. May I enquire as to the artist of this exquisite painting?" A choked noise came from the corner of the room where the Malfoys stood and Bellatrix slapped Hermione across the face.

"Silence girl, insolence is unbecoming" Mrs Malfoy's reply floated over to Hermione, the quelled humor and snark evident. She sounded so much like her son; he must have learned it from her. Hermione smiled her lazy smile, the one that accepted everything that was happening to her at the moment, and apparently irritated her tormenters. All the more reason to do it.

"Crucio!"

Bellatrix, for the first time in her life, was having a hard time maintaining her hatred and desire to hurt the victim at her feet. How could she be so calm? How did she keep sane when so many of her betters cracked and their minds shattered beyond repair? She wanted to know more than she wanted to hurt, which caused conflict for her curse's effectiveness.

Hermione could smell the change before she saw it. The door to the dungeons had opened, which meant that Harry and Ron were escaping. She was going to have to let go of her calm acceptance if she was going to make a run for it with them. She only hoped that her body would be able to follow the will of her mind at this point. As she let go of her acceptance and began to fight against the pain, which was surprisingly less than when the torture began, Hermione started screaming again. The occupants of the room jumped in surprise at the development, fixated on the change in Hermione, drawing attention away from the rescue that was about to happen. When Harry and Ron burst into the room, there was complete chaos. Hermione used the last of her strength, fortified by her will, to take Bellatrix's wand in the first moments of surprise and confusion before hurling herself towards her best friends, who caught her and they all disapparated with a pop.

It was after they arrived at Bill and Fleur's safe cottage that Hermione saw their savior was Dobby, and that Bellatrix had thrown her remaining weapon, the knife, deep into his chest. Hermione clung to Ron as he half carried her into the cottage, yelling for someone to help him, to heal Hermione. The carving on her arm would never be healed, she knew, and being honest with herself in that moment, she was rather proud of it. She carved it, she withstood the torture, and she knew, she somehow just knew, that the Malfoys and Bellatrix were in awe of her. Mudblood or not, she was not just their equal, but better because of her strength. She was admirable in their eyes whether they could admit it or not. She was marked, by her own hand, and she viewed the slur with pride. She was a mudblood and she was better than her torturers. Hermione smiled lazily as she was settled onto a soft bed and someone tipped dreamless sleep potion down her throat.