Author's Note: I started writing this on August 29th of last year, after the news that Bellatrix would carve the word 'Mudblood' into Hermione's arm in the torture scene. Bellatrix is still alive in this. I was in an angsty mood, and then I shelved this for a few months before I started working on it again a few nights ago. There might be a few loose ends considering this went in a completely different direction than I had originally planned. And I took some liberties with some small details, I hope you guys don't mind. Enjoy and REVIEW, please!

It was the fourth night in a row that Hermione had woken up screaming. It had gotten to a point where Ron was anticipating it, that he had trouble staying asleep for more than twenty minutes. He always was on his left side, facing her, so he could calm her down immediately. This night in particular, it occurred at the exact second it turned one o'clock. Ron was startled by her blood-curdling shrieks as she sat up in bed, covering her face with her hands. He grasped her arms and she began to fight back, kicking back the sheets, trying to wrench herself from his grip.

"Hermione, it's me. It's Ron," he whispered hoarsely, for he was still groggy from sleep. At the sound of his voice, she loosened up and opened her eyes. Her cheeks were covered in tears.

"Oh," she said plainly. They sat there in silence for a while, his hands still around her wrists. It was several minutes before her body had begun wracking in sobs. She threw her arms around his neck, shoving her face against his chest. Her tears began to soak through his shirt immediately.

"I'm so sorry," she managed. All he could do was say "shhh" over and over again and run his hands down her hair. He didn't know what to do. He hadn't told anyone about these fits, not even Harry.

She was so heavy. He felt like he alone was holding her up, like if she had been alone tonight she would have finally cracked. If that stupid Bellatrix woman would have gotten herself killed the night of the battle, none of this would be happening. Hermione wouldn't be so terrified anymore.

Ever since that night at the Malfoys', Hermione wore a bandage around her left forearm. He never really asked what was under it, he didn't want to start her up. She seemed perfectly fine, and there was no need to talk about that night. Their side had prevailed.

But then, just a month before this night, the Ministry reported that Bellatrix Lestrange would start her trials for her "injustice towards wizard-kind," as the Prophet put it. They had several dates scheduled, corresponding with each allegation towards her. Second to last, however, was the torture and imprisonment of Miss Hermione Granger.

The court date was today, in nine hours time. Hermione had become anxious and jumped at the slightest noises. She was quiet, and shut herself up in the study most days. Ron had no idea what she was doing in there, and like always, didn't ask her.

"Ron...Ron, I can't do this," she sobbed. "I just can't."

"You have to, babe. This'll definitely send her to Azkaban forever."

"No, Ronald. I've been following her trials. Everything she has against her...she's already got a Kiss coming for her. There's no need for me to testify." She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, her sobs finally ending.

Ron sighed, holding her face in his hands. "You need to do this for yourself. I can't go on seeing you like this. It hurts."

She smiled slightly; when did he get so perceptive?

Ron looked at the clock, and turned back to her. "We should get some sleep, all right?" He gave her a big smile and a small kiss. They both fell back asleep in minutes.

When the alarm promptly went off at seven-thirty, Ron threw his arm out and slapped it off. He rolled over to find Hermione lying on her back, her eyes wide open.

"How long have you been awake?" He asked, strained, through his stretching.

"Maybe a couple of hours. Can't sleep," she said plainly, reaching out and gripping Ron's hand with her own. "I'm not ready for this."

Before Ron could respond, Hermione jumped out of bed and into the bathroom. He heard the shower turn on, and he flopped back down on his back in defeat. In a few hours' time, this would all be over. He had to keep telling himself this over and over again.

He could hear her muffled cries all the way from the kitchen, where he was making the tea. It physically pained him to be around her when she was like this. If he would be able to get his hands on Bellatrix Lestrange...well, he couldn't really count all the things he would do to her. His knuckles were turning white as he clenched the edge of the countertop just thinking of her.

Hermione emerged from the bedroom half an hour later. Ron peered up above that day's issue of the Prophet, and studied her appearance. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and she was wearing no make-up.

"Your tea's gone cold," Ron said, as he watched her nearly down the cup in one gulp.

"Still tastes the same," she replied monotonously.

Ron shrugged and his eyes followed Hermione back into the bedroom. She slammed the door behind her.

He ended up taking a shower in the guest bathroom, and by the time he was finished, it was ten minutes before they were to leave. He found Hermione standing in the middle of the living room, clutching a crystal phial in her left hand, staring at a still, unmoving picture of her parents.

"They'll be there, Ron," she whispered. "They'll see what she did to me."

She turned abruptly to face him. "I never told them. I just said that I stood up for what I believed in, and that there were many consequences. I never said they were physical. I never wanted them to worry about anything..."

Her voice trembled and faded away. "Let's go. I can't stand here any longer."

Ron nodded in response, holding onto Hermione's arm as the Apparated to the Ministry of Magic's front lobby.

The second they landed, they were bombarded by voices, so many voices and more flashing light bulbs than they thought could go off at one time. They all were asking the same questions, "How do you feel about Belllatrix Lestrange receiving the Dementor's Kiss?" "How long did she keep you for?" "Are there any lasting effects from that night, Miss Granger?"

She ignored them all, and kept her focus on the hand that clutched Ron's bicep. "Bugger off!" Ron shouted, pushing them through the crowd and heading towards the elevators. They got one to themselves, and before Ron could press the button for the level, the elevator started to move by itself. "We're in courtroom ten," Ron said, bringing Hermione closer to him and pressing his lips to the crown of her head.

"I know," said Hermione simply.

The elevator dinged, and the doors flew open. They were met by complete silence. The press wasn't allowed down in the courtrooms for this trial. Once again, Hermione grabbed hold of Ron's arm, and he could tell instantly that she was shaking like a leaf. It got worse when her parents came into view around the corner. They smiled sympathetically and gave her a huge Molly Weasley-worthy hug.

"Will you please just tell us what's happening, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked, her daughter's cheek cupped in her hand.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered, leaning away from her mother. Mrs. Granger was brimming with tears.

Ron and Mr. Granger followed them in, and Ron leaned over and carefully whispered in his ear, "She hasn't told me anything either, in case you were wondering." He nodded and gave Ron a small smile.

They found seats in the vast, dark courtroom next to Harry, Ginny, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, and Mr. Ollivander. Ron was slightly perturbed that Hermione didn't even acknowledge them, just kept her eyes on the phial in her hands. Something was wrong. Maybe this was going to be worse than he thought it would be.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly inaugurated Minster of Magic, appeared behind his stand, dressed in the black robes that the Wizengamot wore. The rest of the committee followed in, filling in the empty stands that flanked from Shacklebolt's in the middle. Ron shuddered. It was freezing in there, and his stomach jumped at every noise, wondering if it was Bellatrix Lestrange entering the courtroom.

"We are here to determine the sentence of Bellatrix Lestrange, in the case of her imprisonment and torture of Miss Hermione Granger," Shacklebolt went on and on about Bellatrix's previous sentences, and what would happen if she had been found guilty for this case. Ron really wasn't paying attention, his eyes were constantly on Hermione, attempting to catch anything from her facial expressions. The problem was, she wasn't making any. Except for her trembling hands, she could have been a statue made of marble for all Ron could tell.

Bellatrix was brought out shortly after. He was surprised to find that no guards were by her side, but then he looked up and noticed the four dementors swirling above in the high ceiling. It explained the cold, at least. And the feeling that this was going to be worse than he thought, but he was certain he had that feeling before they had even arrived here...

Bellatrix was no longer gaunt and sunken in, she was even more so. Her cheeks seemed to be hollows in her face, and her hair no longer stood on end crazily, but was flat and matted to her head. He looked to Hermione, and found that she was looking straight at the woman. Her hands were no longer shaking, and her grip on the phial loosened.

"Madame Lestrange, do you know why you're here?" Shacklebolt demanded in a booming voice.

"Of course," she said, a smile slithering onto her lips.

Shacklebolt nodded, and proceeded by bringing down the first witness. Luna precariously waltzed over to the chair placed in the middle of the room, not six feet away from Bellatrix herself. It didn't seem to bother her, but it was Luna after all, she probably hadn't even noticed that Bellatrix had entered the room. Her blonde hair was pulled back into an Edwardian-style pouf, and her pale blue dress just accentuated the rest of her paleness. She looked ethereal.

"Miss Lovegood," Shacklebolt started.

"Yes?"

"Do you know the date that you were taken prisoner in Malfoy Manor?"

"Oh, yes, it was the day we were going home for Christmas. The twentieth of December, nineteen-ninety-seven, I think," she looked up and Shacklebolt glanced through his notes, his nod confirming the date.

"So you were there nearly three months?"

"Yes. Although, I didn't really feel time there. I could have been there ten years if I thought so. We escaped in the early morning of the fifth of March, although I didn't know that until we arrived at Bill Weasley's residence."

Luna was being surprisingly clear about everything. No mention of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks anywhere. Ron was proud.

"Now, in the event of Miss Granger's torture...can you tell us what happened that evening?"

"Well, Mr. Ollivander, Griphook, and I were lying on the ground planning any escape we could think of, you know, because that's all any of us thought of. Getting out, I mean. They had been there longer than I had. We heard scuffling and some yells, and then Harry, Ron, and Dean Thomas were thrown in the cellar with us..."

"You mean Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley?" Shacklebolt questioned, glancing over to the men sitting on either side of Hermione.

"Of course. Then we started to hear the screams, and Ron was trying to find a way out and he was screaming her name," Luna paused.

Ron's hands were getting sweaty, and he wiped them on his trousers. He didn't like to hear about this night at all.

"They had to have been down there with us for a couple of hours, until Dobby showed up."

"And Dobby, a house-elf, he proceeded to apparate you out of the cellar?"

Luna merely nodded.

"And then Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley rescued Miss Granger?"

"Precisely."

"And what happened to this house-elf?"

"He was killed that night." Whispers broke out across the hall. "By Bellatrix Lestrange. He died in Harry's arms and he buried him himself."

"I see," muttered the dark-skinned man, eyeing Luna very carefully. Finally, he raised his head and bellowed, "We'll call on the next witness. You may go, Miss Lovegood. Next will be Mr. Ollivander..."

But before the wand-maker could make his way to the stand, a weak, raspy voice made its way out of the shadows. "Shacklebolt, let's just get on with it, eh?"

Everything became dead silent. Mr. Ollivander was caught mid-rise, and sat back down immediately. Ron looked for Hermione's eyes, but they were shrouded in her hair as her head was bowed. Her grip on the ever enigmatic phial tightened. He knew it contained her memory of that night.

"I did not allow you to speak, Lestrange," Shacklebolt raised his voice, rising out of his chair.

"Just get the girl up here so we can all get out of this god-forsaken Ministry..."

Shacklebolt eyed Hermione curiously. It was like she could feel his gaze upon her, as she looked up almost as instantaneously as he looked at her. "Are you all right with that, Miss Granger?" The minster questioned, his voice like silk and softer in tone.

She looked up at Ron, and squeezed his hand in a comforting manner. He felt like he should be the one doing the comforting, but Hermione stood up gracefully and made her way to the floor. Shacklebolt's brows furrowed when she didn't sit down in the chair, but rather walked all the way to his stand, and passed along the phial she had been clutching for the better part of an hour. They were whispering with each other, Hermione had even smiled at one point, and he could make out the words "thank you" from her mouth.

"Miss Granger has provided us with her memory of that night," his voice wavered as he passed along the phial to his assistant, who ran through a door and up a dark stairwell. Hermione made her way to the chair in the middle of the room, her eyes darting in the opposite direction of her captor. With nothing to hold onto any longer, she rested her hands on the armrests.

Seconds later, a silvery, transparent cube appeared over Hermione's chair. Ron could see a hole in the wall above Shacklebolt, from where, he assumed, her memory would be projected upon the cube. He could see the shining memory flowing from it, the cube calling it towards it. When the memory finally reached it, flashes of Harry's swollen face and blood running down from Ron's nose appeared.

It cut to the gates of Malfoy Manor. Scabior (who was now in Azkaban) was dragging Hermione along the gravel. There was Narcissa Malfoy answering the door. Her husband calling on Draco to identify them, too scared shitless to even string three words together.

Ron looked across the courtroom, and found Draco Malfoy sitting, his head resting in his hands. He couldn't watch. What a fucking pussy. Of course, this part of Hermione's memory he had lived through as well, so it wasn't as surprising as it was to Hermione's parents. Mrs. Granger had already shielded her eyes in her husband's shoulder.

This part was all in flashes. It wasn't coherently strung together. There was Lucius examining Harry's forehead, and Narcissa recognizing Hermione. And then Bellatrix walked into the room, and her memory became clear again. She and Lucius were arguing about who should call the "Dark Lord," and Greyback was begging for his prize money.

While they were arguing in the memory, Ron glanced down to Hermione. She was gazing at her left arm, her fingers lightly tracing whatever was under her sleeve. She seemed to not be paying any attention. He wondered how many times she had accessed this memory...this could be her first time or her hundredth, he couldn't tell.

"Wait," Bellatrix's memory called, "All except...except for the Mudblood."

Ron's eyes snapped back to the memory, and could see himself being dragged, screaming, into the dungeons, far away from Hermione. This, he knew, was going to be the part where something had been done to her to keep her like this for so long. He couldn't stand to be around her when she was so unresponsive or wailing at the top of her lungs in the shower (she thought the shower would mask the crying, but it only made it worse).

"Leave, Cissy," Bellatrix snapped. "Take Draco with you. Merlin knows Mummy won't let him see what really gets done around this house..."

The two blonds scurried from the room, leaving only Bellatrix hovering over Hermione's form, sprawled on the floor. Lucius started to leave with them, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to stand next to her. "I'll need you later, if she really gets to be a nuisance..."

"Why don't you just kill the thing, Bella?" Lucius said in a bored tone.

"Because, my dear brother-in-law," she said, placing her hands on his chest and fixing his collar, "I like to have my fun."

"Get up," she ordered Hermione. The girl stood up swiftly, maybe with a little too much pride, and began to shove her hands in her back pockets before Bellatrix drew her wand.

"Where did you take that sword from?" Bellatrix whispered harshly, circling her prey.

"I didn't take it," Hermione replied, "we found it."

That answer wasn't good enough for Bellatrix, and the Cruciatus Curse fell from her lips and hit Hermione square in the back. She fell forward, moaning with pain, gripping at the rug beneath her.

"If you like to play games, Mudblood, I'll always play back," Bellatrix said, "Now, where did you find that sword?"

Hermione rose shakily from the ground. "I dont know," she said through clenched teeth.

Bellatrix let the curse out once again, and Hermione fell into a crumpled heap. This went on for several minutes, and Hermione was getting less and less responsive with each blast. Ron looked down to the Hermione that was sitting in the chair only a few feet away from him. Her face was blank.

Ron glanced back to the memory when he saw a gleam of silver in the corner of his eye. Bellatrix was now brandishing a knife instead of her wand. "You are not giving me what I want, Mudblood!" she screamed.

"Please," Hermione begged. She was letting her wall crumble, she couldn't take it anymore. Ron watched her roll over onto her side, to face Malfoy. "Please," she said again, tears staining her cheeks.

"Merlin, must I do everything myself, Lucius?" Bellatrix complained, lunging towards Hermione's form and straddled herself upon her.

He remembered those screams. He was startled by them while he was in the cellar below, because he didn't hear Bellatrix throwing curses at her. He was terrified thinking about what she could have possibly been doing to her.

The memory was slowly fading to black every once in a while, due to Hermione almost losing consciousness. The repetitive carving motions from Bellatrix's right hand were undeniable. Before long, the screaming stopped and it all faded to a murky grey for a few seconds. When she awoke, it was in her perspective for the first time. She turned her head to the right and saw the two Death Eaters in deep conversation. She slowly turned her head back. Then, she lifted her left arm in front of her face. 'Mudblood' was carved into her milky flesh, and a drop of her own blood came to land on her cheek. Her memory then went to black again.

The whole courtroom was silent. Finally, Shacklebolt resumed his gaze upon Hermione. "Thank you, Miss Granger," he said, "for providing us with that evidence. You may return to your seat."

Everyone was staring at her, but she was staring at no one. When she finally seated herself next to Ron, she leaned over to his ear. "I can't be here Ron. I need to leave, I have to go," she whispered. He tried to protest, but all he got in return was "Please, Ron, please! Let's go."

He knew he couldn't get up and leave in the middle of this trial, but as an Auror, he was able to apparate in and out of the Ministry. He grabbed hold of Hermione's hand and thought hard of his living room. With a quiet pop, and a tight, squeezing sensation he found himself standing in his brightly lit flat.

Hermione frantically ran to the bedroom, grabbed her purse and ran back into Ron's arms. "I have to go somewhere. But I'll be back, soon," she said, leaving a kiss on his cheek as she went out the front door.

"Okay?" Ron said to himself, sitting down upon his couch and burying his face in his hands.

Hermione apparated to a foggy countryside road. She was surprised she hadn't splinched herself; she was in such a hurry. She spun around quickly, looking for the ominous manor she had visited just weeks before. Finally spotting the square and hard lines of the building, she walked towards it. The gates before her opened with a quick swish of her wand, and the fog cleared as she grew closer to the manor.

She didn't even bother knocking on the door. It swung open easily, and she stood in the empty foyer alone. "Lucius!" She called out.

The tall, blonde man appeared at the top of the main staircase. She felt the room go colder around her, like it followed him around. His hair was short now, much like Draco's. He had told her that he cut it off shortly after Voldemort's demise. There was no explanation.

"Don't tell me you forgot what today was, because I saw Draco and Narcissa there," Hermione spit out scathingly. "We discussed this weeks ago! You would be there, everyone would see what she really did to me and to you, and there would be none of this waiting in Azkaban for years bullshit. She would have gotten the Kiss straight away. God, you are such a cowardly little child! I was so furious today I could hardly speak, and Ron...Lucius, Ron knows something is severely wrong. How will I tell him now?"

During her rant, Lucius had descended the stairs and leaned against the bannisters at the foot of the stairs. "Miss Granger, I know you are angry with me-"

"No, really?" She interrupted, quite acerbically.

"I know you are angry with me," he repeated languidly, "But I found it best that I did not attend the trial."

She just stared at him with an incredulous look upon her face. "And you decided not to tell me? It's not like you can't drop in at my office, or hell, even my flat because Ron's hardly there anyways. You are just so frustrating!"

Finally, his cold gaze fell on her eyes and it stirred something inside her. "Have you no idea the repurcussions this would hold for me, Miss Granger? Not only was I a Death Eater, but a rapist as well? What would people think then?"

Silence fell upon them both. Hermione never let go of his gaze, and said, "But you're not. It's not your fault. I know you blame yourself, Lucius, but you shouldn't. I'm not going to allow you to do so."

Lucius ran a hand through his hair. "You know, after all that I did to serve the Dark Lord," he spat, "that is the one thing that plagues me every moment of every day. If my old self could see me now, feeling so guilty about being Imperiused into raping a Mudblood, I think I would have laughed. It's such a ridiculous notion."

Hermione couldn't say anything. She pressed her hand against his upper arm reassuringly, but he inched further away from her. "I wouldn't have remembered if," she stopped abruptly, looking quizically at his face.

He whipped around to face her. "If what?"

"The battle...I don't know if you remember, but my legs were covered in blood. I hadn't menstruated in months because I was so starved, and I wasn't wounded, and I was so confused. It all came rushing back to me eventually, so I cut open the inside of my thigh so I could hide it. I was miscarrying."

Lucius didn't dare say a word. For one, he didn't know what to say. Should he sound surprised, should he apologize; he had no idea. He saw tears welling up in her eyes, and he didn't know how to react to those either.

"Just go, Miss Granger. See yourself out," he said in a strained voice and turned on his heel to head to his study.

"I forgive you," she called out to his diminishing form.

She received nothing.

Hermione woke up to frantic banging on her front door.

"Whazza matter?" Ron said, still half-asleep. She clumsily crawled out of bed and pulled on a ratty old jumper. When she opened the door, she saw a frazzled Harry on the other side.

"Have you seen this, 'Mione? This is preposterous, I just, I mean – is he being serious?" He shoved the newspaper in her arms before pacing back and forth across her living room.

LUCIUS MALFOY GIVES HIS SIDE OF THE GRANGER TRIAL, WHAT REALLY HAPPENED THAT NIGHT AT HIS MANOR, the headline read.

Hermione instantly began sobbing.

"'Mione, what are you doing? Why'd you go and make her cry, Harry? She's already been through enough," Ron bellowed, finally appearing from their bedroom.

"He really did it," she whispered, releasing a shaky laugh.

"This is good?" Harry questioned, his eyes wide.

Then there was a loud pecking at her kitchen window, and she ran over to let in the inky black owl that belonged to the Malfoy family. It dropped the piece of parchment on the counter in front of her, and she hurried to fold it open while Harry and Ron were bickering behind her.

I hope this will suffice. Bellatrix received the Kiss this morning after I sent this article in. She won't live much longer, her soul was nearly destroyed anyways. For my sake, please send in an agreement of my article to the Prophet. Also, I accept your forgiveness and I forgive myself a million times over. Live to the fullest extent, Miss Granger, because you deserve it above anyone else.

-LM

Hermione let the parchment fall the the floor as she frenziedly removed the gauze around her arm. She found her mark to be a pale, hardly discernable scar on her arm. Her fingers traced over the word for the last time in her life. It completely disappeared the next day.

Final Author's Note: My friend and I were having a discussion about the use of Hermione's memory in the trial. Would it be considered 'tampered with' if she just ended the memory early? I didn't think so, but she did, so if anyone could give us an answer it would be highly appreciated. Plus, I know Nice!Lucius is overused, but I hadn't ever written him like that before so it was new to me! Thanks for reading!

Bailey Shea