Under the Dark Lord's Reign Chapter One
All rights to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, not me.
Hermione's deepest fears had come true. As she lay chained to the floor of a rather musty smelling dungeon, she took it upon herself to reflect upon what had recently transpired:
As Voldemort led his supporters towards them, with Hagrid in tow, it took a moment for Hermione to register what she was seeing. "Harry Potter… is dead!" exclaimed Voldemort. Hermione felt like screaming, but all that escaped her lips was a whimper as she felt her knees grow weak. Before reality could sink in among the students surrounding her, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters began sending curses in their direction. Neville was the first to die, killed by Voldemort himself, then fell Ginny, and then Ron. Hermione was too shocked to fully process the fact that her closest friends all lay dead, but she recognized that the war was lost, and forgetting her pride, ran for her life.
She had escaped into the Forbidden Forest, but after what felt like hours of running, she was spent. She collapsed against a tree and allowed her exhaustion to overtake her. She drifted off to sleep, and relived the nightmare that had just ensued.
She awoke to the laughter of a pair of Death Eaters. Who they were, Hermione had no way of knowing, for their faces were covered. "There you are, mudblood," said the taller of the two. He wrenched her to her feet, and Hermione didn't even bother resisting. What was the point of fighting them? All hope was lost. "You're a looker, aren't ya?" he stated more than asked. "I reckon you'll fetch an excellent price." Hermione jerked her head up at his last words, eyes wide. "That's right, girl. You're going to be a proper wizard's slave, as you always should have been." With that, the Death Eater muttered an incantation, and Hermione felt herself drift into unconsciousness.
After that, Hermione had awoken in the cell she now lay chained to. She didn't know how long she'd been in here. Days? Weeks? It was too hard to keep track of time in this wretched place. There was no way to differentiate between night and day, as no light reached her cell, or the room beyond it.
She continued to think of Ginny, and Neville, and Ron, and Harry. Oh God, Harry… As much as it hurt her to think of them, she could no longer shed any tears. She had spent every waking moment crying, to the point that she now had no tears left to shed. She felt hollow. Why did she have to run from them? If she'd only fought, she would have died alongside her friends. Surely, such a fate was preferable to her current one.
As she lay there, lost in her thoughts, she was startled by the screeching of her cell door being opened. As the guard stepped in, she was expecting him to provide her with some of the same kind of scrap that she'd been living on since her arrival here, so she was surprised by the words that came from his mouth, "Get up, mudblood." She did as she was told, scrambling to her unsteady legs. She had learned in her first couple of days here not to resist, and had the cuts and bruises to prove it. The guard removed her chains, shouted, "Come on already!" then grabbed her by the arm and jerked her out of her cell.
As she stepped though the threshold, she was shocked to see who was standing there waiting for her. "Here she is, sir," said the guard. "Well, well, what a pleasant surprise," came an all too familiar voice. It belonged to none other than Lucius Malfoy. "Granger, is it?" Hermione nodded, trying hard to conceal the dread that was building up inside of her. "I daresay Draco will be most pleased when I present you to him. How much for her?" Lucius inquired. "Five thousand galleons, sir," the guard responded. "Very well, inform your employer of my desire to purchase her." "Of course. back in your cell, mudblood. Go on!" She did as she was told, and was once again left chained to the floor.
Hermione's heart was racing. Merlin! Of all the people who could have purchased her, why did it have to be the Malfoys? Why? She shuddered as she imagined what Draco might do to her. That bloody ferret! At that thought, Hermione suddenly wished that she'd never called him that to his face, that she'd never slapped him, or laughed at him. Sure, he'd still have hated her, but at least he wouldn't hate her as much as he did. As soon as she thought these things, however, her old resolve returned to her. Draco was a coward, and if it wasn't for him, Dumbledore would still be alive, and none of this would have happened. No, she hated every fiber of his being just as much as he hated her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her in this pathetic state. Hermione took a deep breath and strengthened her resolve as she heard the door to her cell open. Lucius had returned to claim the new Malfoy slave.