“Lift up your arms to the shackles, bitch,” rang out in the maîtresse’s clear voice, and the whip cracked. The woman lifted her arms above her head, toward the shackles, but they were too high. She stood on her toes and strained but they were still out of reach. The trapeze lowered until the shackles were at her wrists. A blond woman, hair in a severe bun, dressed in a leather bodysuit and thigh high boots, and with a spectacular body, entered. She walked up to the nude woman and snapped the shackles on her wrists and waved the trapeze up. It ascended until the toes of the delicate woman barely touched the ground, and, still, from time to time she swung, grabbing for the ground again with her toes. The height was such that she always just barely failed to find a stable base. The blonde left and came back rolling an open cabinet which contained all sorts of whips, crops, canes, gags, clips, and other torture devices.“You are here, bitch, because you love the pain, love the. But her appetite vanished when she looked about the Gryffindor table, to see that Harry, Ron, George, Fred and Ginny were all missing.Hermione too had been puzzled by the absence of Harry and all the Weasleys, but one look at Imogen told her something serious had happened."Imogen, obviously you know something. What's going on? Where are Harry and Ron and the other Weasleys?"Imogen struggled not to cry, and left the hall almost at a run, heading outside into the cold winter weather even though she was not properly dressed. She was not conscious of the biting cold, the stares of other students nor Hermione at her heels, asking questions."Imogen! What 'yer doin' outside like this? Ye'll catch yer death, you will! And you too, Hermione!" Hagrid was out for a walk with Fang, dressed properly for the weather. The day was overcast as well as cold, the sunlight very weak at this time of year and this far north. Imogen allowed herself to be ushered into Hagrid's cabin, Hermione of course also.
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