Hello everyone! Thanks so much for being interested in the story! Since I've never written to the M audience before, I'll start out by briefly explaining myself. I write at the beginning and end of a chapter. It all pertains to the story so please read it. I will be likely to post polls to my profile, and I will notify you big time so you for sure know. Please participate. It helps me entertain you. I love reviews, and they encourage me to keep writing. It's always nice to know what you think even if you're (respectfully) telling me you hate it. This will not be PWP so please don't ask. This story is rated M so the plot can be unrestrained. After all, this is a dark story. HAPPY READING!

The Beginning of the End

"RON!" Hermione wailed, hysterically trying to crawl towards his motionless body. "No! RON, PLEASE!"

"Get up!" An unidentifiable burly man in a mask grasped Hermione and tried to jerk her to her feet, but she was still lunging for Ron. "God damnit! Get up!" He stomped on Hermione's leg painfully and managed to pin her to the floor. Bellatrix lunged forward, jerked her up, and slammed her back onto the table where they had been torturing her minutes earlier.

"SILENCIO!" she screeched, shooting the spell straight at Hermione's throat. She gagged as the spell temporarily prevented her from voicing her crazed objections. She had just witnessed Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's murders, and frankly, she was not thinking clearly.

"What should we do with her, My Lord? Should we kill the Mudblood?" Bellatrix sounded more excited than she had in weeks. The deaths of the "Golden Trio" as they were called would be a huge victory for the Dark Lord, and surely all his loyal followers would be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams. This idea made Bellatrix so excited that she was shaking like a mad woman, her lucid eyes appearing more crazed than ever.

"Not yet," the Dark Lord hissed. "That would be relief for her. No, we want her to feel as much pain as possible. She resisted Lord Voldemort. She will pay the price. Keeping her alive will torture her more."

Bellatrix laughed insanely. "Oh Master, that is a wondrously perfect idea! What shall we do with her in the mean time?"

"We watch her, we gloat, we plan," The Dark Lord coolly explained. "She will have to die once she seems to regain her usual anger and looks as if she may be trying to find some strength. That could be five minutes from now…or five months. Nevertheless, she will die sometime."

An unsatisfied growl sounded from the dark corner of the room. "But, My Lord, you promised…"

"Yes, Greyback, I did," The Dark Lord cut off. "I never said when, though. You will be able to enjoy her flesh soon enough, but for now you must be patient. You have done a great service to Lord Voldemort this evening, and Lord Voldemort rewards his servers greatly. Lord VOldemort also keeps his promises, Greyback, you will see."

"Thank you, My Lord," he gasped, mechanically dropping to the floor in a deep reverent bow. "You are a kind Lord, indeed."

"Kind?" The Dark Lord hissed at him, laughing coldly to himself. "I've never heard kind used to describe me before. Is that what you see me as? Am I kind to the wizarding world, to those I don't believe belong in it?"

Greyback's face changed into abrupt fear, and, if possible, he bowed more deeply, attempting to hide the fierce trembling from his trepidation. "N-No, My Lord, that's not what I think." Greyback's pulse raced as he snuck a look up at his master who was circling him like a pack of coyotes would circle a Pekingese. "I should not have said that."

"You're quite right, Greyback, you shouldn't have," the Dark Lord said angrily. "Do you know what was known for his kindness, especially to mudbloods and blood traitors?"

"D-Dumbledore?" Greyback guessed, silently praying he was correct.

"Yes you hairy idiot, Albus Dumbledore, and do you think I want to be associated with him in any way?" The Dark Lord had pulled out his wand and pointed it threateningly towards Fenrir.

"Of course not, My Lord," Greyback huffed as if he had just run a marathon. "I am…"

"My Lord," Bellatrix cut in wildly. "I do not think you are like Albus Dumbledore. I think you are much…" . But the Dark Lord held up a hand to silence her commandingly.

"I know what you think, Bella, you don't need to remind me." Bellatrix shrunk back into the shadows. "Now, Greyback, I think it's time you see what happens when people compare Lord VOldemort to Albus Dumbledore." Greyback squealed in terror. "Fool, I am not going to kill you. I gain nothing by doing that. I'm just going to reinforce the idea of power in your mind and how much you don't have. CRUCIO!" Fenrir screamed a deathly, high pitched scream like a dying animal. The scream reverberated the room and seemed to pierce the minds of all the occupants as they began to scream too…

"WAKE UP YOU STUPID GIRL!" screeched a familiar voice as the all-too-familiar hand met Hermione's cheek forcibly. "WAKE UP! IF THE DARK LORD WAKES UP, WE'LL ALL BE DEAD!"

Hermione shot up in her bed, beads of sweat dripping off her forehead. "What's going on?"

"You won't stop screaming like a stupid banshee!" Bellatrix Lestrange spat in quiet venom. "If the Dark Lord wakes up because of this, I will personally make sure he feeds you to the snake…alive!"

"Sorry," Hermione grumbled in an insincere tone, "but your actions are so evil that they give me night terrors."

Bellatrix scoffed at her mockingly. "Gave you night terrors? No wonder you lost the war you imbecile. You're a little child still, a tiny, itsy-bitsy baby." She cackled sourly. "I can't believe that crackpot old fool Dumbledore viewed you as hope for the Wizarding World."

"He's not an old fool!" Hermione growled, incensed. For the past two weeks, Dumbledore and Harry Potter bashing had become nothing short of a recreational sport, especially in the presence of Hermione.

"If you say so." She laughed darkly. "Think about one thing, though. They're dead and the rest of us are alive."

Hermione thrashed about in the tangled sheets, attempting to steady herself enough to attack Bellatrix who was too fast for her. She had her wand out in less than a second.

"The Dark Lord said we could do it if we saw due reason," Bellatrix reminded Hermione with a clear sound of manic triumph in her voice. "Attacking me would be due reason."

Hermione yearned to say that she wanted to die, but she felt as if that would be giving up for good. As long as she was alive, there was some hope. After all, she knew about the Horcruxes. If only she could contact someone else…but of course she had no chance at that. Someone looked after her day and night, not to mention, she had no wand. She had to admit she was trapped.

Hermione backed off and laid back down. "I'm going back to sleep," she mumbled, turning over to ignore Bellatrix.

"Fine, but make one more noise, and you'll wish you hadn't been born." Bellatrix swept out of the room, shutting the door quietly. These days, waking the Dark Lord from his precious slumber was an unforgivable offense.

Hermione motionlessly waited for Bellatrix to make her way back down the hall, not wanting to risk the possibility of her hearing movement. When she finally was sure she was in the clear, she sat up and took a deep breath. Although she was a prisoner in the Malfoy Manor, she had to admit her accommodations were better than expected. The estate was massive, almost like a large hotel. Hermione supposed they had made it like that to house the most important Death Eaters. She had expected they would keep her down in the cellar like they kept normal prisoners. But then again, they knew what they were going to do with her. Those prisoners were still awaiting sentencing…or being held for a time when they would be more useful. The war was over, and they had lost, Bellatrix was right. There was no need to lock Hermione up like she was a threat, and Hermione supposed that idea was what made her so upset, the lack of value placed upon her. Sometimes she wished she was stored in the cellar. At least she would feel as if she was keeping the Dark Lord on edge.

It had been two weeks since she first began her period of incarceration, two weeks since Ron and Harry had been brutally murdered at the hands of the Dark Lord. They had forced her to watch it, every part, even the unceremonious feeding of the bodies to Nagini, the Dark Lord's snake. That sight alone nearly caused her to lose her sanity, but somehow, life at the Manor had sobered her up. If Hermione's situation hadn't been so dire, she would almost have found the inner workings of the Dark Lord's circle fascinating. However, living in constant fear of the unknown squashed the curiosity ordinarily connected with one's fascination quickly and thoroughly. Life at the manor was humdrum for Hermione, except that fear constantly consumed her, making it more of a frightening unwanted adventure without a definite outcome. Every morning Hermione woke up and wondered if it would be her last. Every time the sun set she wondered if she would see life again. She could honestly say that nobody else in the manor could feel that way. The Malfoys were the next closest things to prisoners, true, but the Dark Lord was not going to kill them. The Malfoys tended to act as the servants of the household. After Lucius's slip-ups at the Ministry and Draco's failure to kill Dumbledore, the Dark Lord had retired them as acting Death Eaters. Instead, he turned them into another Wormtail, except they were more able and brighter. In fact, the Malfoys usually played the role as Hermione's babysitter. They constantly tailed her, sometimes from afar, willing her to try and make some covert contact or frightened cry for help. So far, she hadn't given them any reason to doubt her conduct. Unfortunately, to do so would mean instant death.

To occupy her days, Hermione would try and spend time in the library, but she couldn't concentrate on reading like she used to. Images of Harry and Ron's lifeless bodies being devoured by the slithering snake would unexpectedly fill her head, and she would jerk it side to side roughly to try and shake those thoughts. She tried to shut those bad thoughts out, even tried the old occlumency technique, but that night had been the single most traumatizing night of her life. Nothing was going to help.

She had grown up that night, learning that nobody was immortal, with the exception of the Dark Lord who seemed pretty damn close. She had never thought Harry and Ron, well mostly Harry, would actually be able to die. Both of them had skipped death so many times, especially Harry. In the end, it had been a slip-up, a horrible mistake brought on by extreme emotion that ended up proving to be the fatal blow. It was not the way Harry or Ron would have wanted to die. They died runaways, not heroes, as the Death Eaters constantly reminded Hermione gleefully. Although Hermione insisted that was not the case constantly, she couldn't help but privately agreeing with them. It wasn't just an undesirable way to die, it was also anticlimactic, and that fact irked Hermione constantly.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to just crawl out of bed and tiptoe out of bed for a nice, easy (and innocent) walk in the nighttime where she could feel the beginnings of spring all around her. However, to the Death Eaters, that would seem like an attempt at an escape, and no matter how she defended herself, she would be dead. She gazed out the window longingly. The last time she had been outside had been the last hours of Harry and Ron. Ever since, she had been locked in this place. Had she not been held here under duress, she would have maybe enjoyed the beautiful home. However, something about it made it stark and daunting like a haunted house. It was probably the presence of creeps like the Lestranges and Severus Snape.

She had seen Dumbledore's murderer only a few times, and he had avoided her as much as possible. When he was forced to be in the same room as her, he would shift his eyes away from hers, determined not to make eye contact. It was as if he was trying to hide something in his eyes from her…his feelings. There had been a particularly uncomfortable moment in the hallway near the library just two days ago when the two unexpectedly met each other. The hallway was narrow with only enough room for one person to walk through it comfortably at a time. Hermione and Snape had been traveling in opposite directions. Upon nearly running into each other, they stopped and made eye contact. Both had been immersed in their own thoughts and hadn't watched where they were going. Hermione attempted to pierce Snape with the dirtiest glare possible. Her expression spoke a thousand words of hatred and fresh pain from his betrayal. If Snape had not killed Dumbledore, they probably would never have ended up in the Manor at all. Snape quickly turned around and stalked away briskly while mumbling, "Watch where you're going, Granger" barely audibly. Hermione stared after him. Throughout the years he had always been nasty to her and treated her unfairly. He had never been sheepish or skittish around her like he had been just then. Times had obviously changed indeed.

Hermione noticed the sun starting to creep up to the horizon, painting the sky a gorgeous color of purple and pink as the black of night floated away temporarily. The Dark Lord would awaken soon and begin the normal proceedings of the day. She had best be asleep when he did. Like most average people, he was a bear in the mornings. Unlike most average people, he was plotting to rule and kill thousands if not millions. His views on Hermione changed with his moods. When in a good mood, he would let her live limitedly of course, but let her live nonetheless. He liked the idea of one of the "golden trio" staying alive just enough to see his changes to the wizarding world. However, if he was in a bad mood, he would allow anyone to do whatever they pleased to her, even kill her. She had learnt this the first day she was there. She got in his way, and he allowed the Death Eaters to torture her to their hearts content. The Dark Lord only stopped them when he thought she was about to break. He had said he didn't want to kill her just yet, but the time could come at any point. That was what scared Hermione. It wasn't the prospect of dying. Quite frankly, she had lost nearly everything she had. She had lost her boyfriend and her best friend, not to mention one of her mentors. She lost her parents who, for their own safety, had to be charmed into forgetting her, and she lost a bunch of classmates who she had grown up with. There was no home for her, and there was no protection. She could handle dying. She couldn't handle not knowing when. Death was inevitable, she knew that very well. She just constantly had to wonder how soon the inevitable was coming.

As the top of the sun began to rise into view, Hermione retired to her bed. She had not been able to sleep well the first many nights, but she had begun to manage. She had too. Her sleep was plagued with nightmares and interruptions, but that was inevitable, like her death. Her dreams could not be any worse than real life, in her opinion, so why should she prevent them? At least she could wake up relieved to know that they never actually happened, and they weren't the reality she would have to wake up to every morning. Unfortunately, that reality tended to be worse lately.

So there's the first chapter. I'm just starting college so it will be hard for me to update as I'm sure you can imagine, but I will try my best to write and post chapters as quickly as possible. Please review and tell me if it's a good idea. I'm excited about this story, but if nobody is going to read it, then I will come up with a different plot. Thanks!

XOXO,

Christine