Umbridge studied Hermione on the ground and gestured over her shoulder again. “I want this one, once her magic is suppressed. I imagine she'll require my thorough interrogation. Put her back.”
Umbridge giggled and began turning to leave.
Thorfinn Rowle paused as he was passing by. “You can't have that one, Warden.” His voice was slurred, and he gestured jerkily towards where Hermione lay on the ground. “I helped bring her from Sussex after they caught her. The Dark Lord said he wants her kept intact in case he decides to interrogate her himself. It's on the transfer paperwork.”
Through the agony and shock her body was going into from the torture, Hermione felt her blood run cold.
Umbridge's expression fell. “But they die so quickly when he does it.”
Rowle straightened and narrowed his eyes. “Doubting me, Warden? I can call the Dark Lord here, if you doubt the paperwork.”
Umbridge gulped, and her chin wobbled as she shook her head rapidly. “No. No. I would never disobey the Dark Lord. If he wants her intact, she will, of course, stay intact. This—” she gestured down at Hermione,“—was only a few minutes for her — defiance. I would never question orders from someone as important as yourself. My disappointment got the better of me.” Her voice grew simperingly sweet. “After all, you — are one of the Dark Lord's most trusted.”
Rowle squared his shoulders, and his barrel-chest rose. He looked at Hermione and nudged her with his boot. “I doubt she matters. He's got dozens more important — terrorists he plans to interrogate — if she ends up forgotten—” He shrugged. “No one will care what you do with her then.”
He gave a barking laugh and continued on his way.
Umbridge looked back at Hermione in silence for several moments. “When her magic is suppressed, I'll take care of her personally. We do want to be sure we follow our orders to the letter and she stays
Hermione was pulled off the ground and thrown heavily back into the cage.
She curled tightly on the ground as her body kept spasming and jerking, but she barely noticed. She was frozen with terror.
Voldemort had marked her for his personal interrogation. The mere thought had her more panic-stricken than anything Umbridge might want to do to her.
Her mind was filled with memories of Draco.
It was an almost impossible number of memories to try to occlude or misdirect from.
She pressed her twitching fingers against her mouth and crammed herself into a corner of the cage as she struggled not to panic.
“Are you alright? She kept that curse on you for — I don't even know how long.” A boy in the cage came over and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.
“I'm fine. Don't bother me,” Hermione said in a tight, shaking voice as she jerked away from the touch. “I need to think.”
She drew a deep breath, using her occlumency to force her attention away from the spasming pain in her body.
Voldemort would realise she was an occlumens. He would realise it and then tear her mind to pieces.
He'd find Draco.
Even if her death under interrogation was quick, Draco's punishment for his betrayal would not be.
It would be a worse death than the one she'd tried to save him from by bombing Sussex.
It Voldemort found their relationship, he would likely use Hermione as a means of punishing Draco. That was what he'd done with Narcissa. He'd used what Draco cared about to torture him.
Draco had always been more driven by his fear of what could happen to her than of what Voldemort would do to him.
She had to hide him. Bury the memories so deeply they'd never be found.
She gathered all her carefully, meticulously examined and sorted memories of Draco, Ginny, and the hocruxes, and pushed them as far back in her mind as she could; she placed them in the furthest reaches of her memory; beyond her parents, beyond the very earliest memories she possessed. She pushed them all as far away from her consciousness as was possible.