"But I do find it interesting that the Lovegood girl is still alive," Yaxley said, voice catching at the end in a strange imitation of Lucius Malfoy. "I guess the others' lives were not as valuable to you."

Like Yaxley had timed it, a tear slipped from the corner of her left eye, sliding down toward her ear.

"Oh, don't cry, Miss Granger." He chuckled, and her skin shivered when he brushed his finger across her cheek to wipe the tear away. "No one else will be hurt due to your incompetence. You just need to behave until this Friday evening."

He whispered a Finite Incantatem and she gulped air like a vacuum, her lungs pressing into her ribs until they felt like they cracked. The muscles in her arms and legs shaking from fighting the petrifying curse. Her lip trembled.

"How does that sound, Miss Granger?" Yaxley whispered into her ear. She refused to turn to face him, still staring up at the ceiling like she was still petrified. "I need a verbal response. Or I'll need to just leave you here until Friday."

"Yes." She didn't recognize her voice.

"Wonderful." Yaxley stood tall and pointed his wand at her. "That's the last word I ever want to hear from you. Silencio."

She was grateful. Now she could scream.

~*~

Yaxley and Dolohov escorted her to the showers. She didn't know how long she'd been in the conference room on the table, but there was no one else in the showers when she arrived. The other girls from her group were gone by now.

What other girls. She chuckled darkly. Half of them were dead.

Yaxley left to prep the medical team, and once the door was closed, Dolohov leered at her again, letting his eyes slide down her body. He handed her a towel. She waited. Praying he would turn and leave her.

He gestured to the showers. Tile boxes without doors or curtains. She didn't remember the other girls talking about a lack of privacy during the showers. Just that they were too brief.

She looked back at Dolohov, then to the door, raising her brows.

"Can't leave you alone, love." He winked at her.

She swallowed. She looked to the shower, and then handed the towel back to him. She would choose not to. He didn't take it.

"Oh, you'll wash," he said. He stepped closer to her, and she lifted her chin. "Or I'll do it for you."

He lifted a hand to touch her, maybe her hair or her shoulder. She jumped away and moved to the shower, starting the spray.

She kicked off her trainers. Slid down the zipper on her hoodie. Peeled the jacket and jumper off. The razorblade spell he’d hit her with had sliced through her layers, leaving little nicks in all her clothing. She faced the spray, watching the steam rise, twisting like fire.

She popped the button on her jeans. Tugged down the zipper. She shucked her knickers and jeans together, stepping out of them quickly. Ripped her shirt over her head, tugging the dried blood off her back. Clicked open her bra.