Hermione's shrieks of agony spread throughout the prison, annoying me and pleasing me. Who knew a filthy Mudblood could be so loud? Yet her loud screams, her pleas of mercy, make me happy. It's the kind of happiness that starts at your toes and moves up, making you feel light and warm. The kind of happiness I get when serving my Lord Voldemort.
I shouldn't be here, or doing this to her. I should me getting to truth out of my son, Draco. But I think this method will work. He's always had a soft spot in watching other people getting tortured.
"Ready to tell me, my son?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hermione shake her head. I flick my wand, and she's on the ground, hands clutching her stomach.
"Do you and the Mudblood... have something going on, Draco?"
"No, Father." He looked close to tears, making me angrier.
"Draco! My son! You do not show your emotions around the enemy! What have I taught you?"
"She's not the enemy, father."
"You have feelings for the girl, don't you?"
"No, but isn't the one we should kill. That'd be Harry."
"Yes, but who should kill him?"
"How did you know, son?"
"He's not that hard to find. He's not sly. And besides, Ron should kill him so that the last thing Harry feels is betrayal."
A malicious smile spreads across my face. "You have done well, my son. Shall we tell our Lord the idea?"
"Yes. But Father?"
"Yes, my son?"
"I require a minute with the girl."
"And why is that, Draco?"
"A task for our Lord."
"Well, I'll be ready for you at the top of the stairs."
"Thank you, Father."
I hear Draco's loud voice carry with more of Hermione's wails of pain. Yes, I have taught him well.