I do not own Harry Potter

It was a beautiful summer evening, the sun was shining and in a lovingly restored late Tudor house on the outskirts of Oxford, Hermione Granger prepared to die as well as she could. She had never been all too sure if she would be able to survive the war against Voldemort. She was, after all, Harry Potter's most important asset in the war. Still, she had expected to die in some pitched battle, not like this.

She stared at the three black-robed young men. Draco Malfoy had taken off his mask, and she knew from their voices that the others were Crabbe and Goyle. they had caught her when she had been sitting in the garden, reading a novel. It hadn't even been any kind of struggle. She didn't even have her wand with her, and even if she had had, it would not have made any difference.

Now, she was lying on her bed, tied up and her clothing status made it obvious that the last thing she would do before dying would be to lose her virginity to these three. She just hoped that one of them would be silly enough to try and use her mouth. Then, she could at least take one of them with her. At least her parents would be safe. They were out in the golf course and would not be home until late. Hopefully, their only daughter would be dead and her assailants gone, then.

She had read that before death, the whole life would quickly repeat in front of the inner eyes, but in Hermione's mind, there was mostly a list of regrets. That she had not decided to go after Harry or Ron, or for that matter Justin or Ernie or Neville. That she had not gone skiing with her parents last winter, that she would never see Harry killing Voldemort.

Hermione Granger was, like most upper class Britons, not religious. Yes, she went to Christmas Service with her parents, but that was about all connection she had with any god. To her mind, there was no scientific evidence at all that a god (she was not sure if one existed) had any interaction with the normal world. And she knew enough about evolution to be rather sure that this would be the end for her. Even though she had seen ghosts, she did not believe in something like a soul, at least not in the sense of a soul separate from the body. Still, she was British, and she would die well. She would not beg for her life, because there would be no mercy. And she would try to stay as quiet as she could when they had their way with her. She knew she had the willpower.

A movement behind the three young men caught her eyes, and she moaned loudly, "Please, Malfoy, you really needn't do that. Just go away, and I will not tell anyone about it. Please, please..." her voice had become louder and higher pitched. Thus, the three young men did not hear a thing when two muggles appeared behind them.

The head of the golf club called driver moves at about 200 miles an hour when it hits the ball. The nine iron, being much shorter, is a lot slower, maybe only 150 or so miles an hour, at least in the hand of a golfer who knows what to do. However, in contrast to the lightwight driver-head, the head of a nine iron is made of heavy, hammered steel.

And in the close quarters of a girl's bedroom, it is much easier to handle. Both John and Miranda Granger were rather good golfers. And the anger at the scene in front of them fueled their strength. So, their respective golf clubs hit the heads of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle with a lot of velocity. As the parents who used the clubs had studied medicine, they hit at the right place, also, the temple, where the bone tissue of the skull is the thinnest and most vulnerable. The two boys' skulls were easily caved in, and the clubs scrambled their brains. They were dead before they hit the ground.

Draco Malfoy was actually quite a good dueler, and he managed to turn around, understand the situation and raise his wand before his jaw was shattered by the backswing of Hermione's mother.

He fell down, and John Granger used the time to step on his wand-hand hard, shattering several bones, and, more importantly, breaking his wand. He then placed the club's head on Draco's throat. If he just lead on it, he would break his trachea, suffocating him. Draco Malfoy lay very still. In the meantime, Hermione's mother, after checking for more intruders, raced to her daughter, released her from her bindings and pulled her in a hug.

Now, a dentist can easily find narcotics, and the Granger parents decided to put their guest to sleep for some time. They would have to talk with their daughter. Hermione was not crying. She was cold. She did not even react to her two dead classmates. "Let me kill him!"

"Not yet." Hermione stared at her father. She would have thought that he would try to stop her.

"Don't you have a ministry to protect us?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think they care for us. As long as I don't do any magic in self-protection, they won't even notice."

Her father nodded. "So the social contract is broken, hm? We have given up our self-defence and expect that the government protects us."

"They won't."

"So we fight back."

"How do you fight death-eaters?"

Her father shrugged. "Right now, it's Grangers 3, Death-Eaters 0. So we see what we can do. They might have protected their homes against magical attacks, but what about muggle means?"

Her mother chimed in. "And we could give the terror right back at them. Kill their kids in school."

"Mum!" Hermione stared at her mother, but she shrugged. "They tried to kill and rape my daughter. So they are free for picking. And if we can't at them, we can get at them over their kids. So kill one Death-Eater-child for every muggle child killed."

Hermione shook her head. "How would we do that?"

"A dentist has access to some things that might be deadly. And of course, there is always aunty Julie." Julia (the Steen daughter who was lucky with the Shakespearian name) was a nuclear scientist at Sellafield. "I am sure they don't have a means against plutonium poisioning."

"You wouldn't."

"I can't. But maybe you would. After all, they tried to kill you."

"But before we discuss that, we have a gust. Who might know a lot of things we can use. I move that we get that out of him."

"And then?"

"Kill him?"

Her mother nodded. "I think so. Or we could send him out as a signal. No nuts, no teeth. Let him suffer a bit longer, until this Valumart kills him for his incompetence."

Mean chuckles answered her.

Some time later, Draco Malfoy was tied to a dentist's chair, his mouth held open by one of the steel contraptions used to help patients to keep their mouths open during lengthy operations. There was some legitimate medical use for such a thing. In the time before the water-cooled turbine and easily available anesthetics, there had been more of it. Both the chair and the steel trap were old and used. Actually, they had belonged to Hermione's great-grandfather when he opened his practice in 1949. The chair was due to go to the medical museum in Oxford next week, and had been stored in the cellar of the Granger's house until then. The contraption was for scaring party guests at the Granger's house.

With surprise, Draco stared into the face of the man next to him. He wore a friendly smile. It was exactly the smile that anyone will get from his dentist. It says: I will drill holes into your teeth, and even though I just poked a needle into your gums, it will hurt quite a lot. And there is only one responsible for that - you, because you did not floss. Draco did not know that, but even he understood it.

Now, John Granger was a rather well known dentist. He was the one other dentists sent their fearful patients to. It was said that he could extract a wisdom tooth without any pain. This was not exactly true, but John Granger was - if the pun was allowed - a wizard of a dentist. After he had learned about the powers of his daughter, he had considered the idea that he might have a little magic that helped him. But mostly, Dr. John Granger was able to almost painlessly extract teeth because he was a good dentist. He knew exactly where the nerval fibers ran, and his big hands were surprisingly well adapted to fine mechanics necessary in his line of work. He had made his fortune by missing the nerval fibers by a hair's breadth.

"I have always told my wife that I would have a nice discussion with the first boy to try and stick his dick into my little girl. I may have suggested that I use this chair for it." His smile grew colder. "I have thought that it would be a friendly discussion, about the necessity to treat her right and stuff. But I think that I can skip this part, hm?"

He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Now, Hermione tells me that you wizards have a spell to hurt all nerves in the body at the same time. Crucios or something. I myself consider this a bit amateurish. There is no real reason to hurt all nerves at the same time when you can burn them out one after the other. Did you know that the muggles have long used dentists for torturers in some nations? And believe me, Draco, I may call you Draco, may I? Believe me, the human mouth has many nerves I can torture. Actually, for someone with the right experience, there is much more pain in store in your mouth than even in your genitalia."

He chuckled, and for the first time, Draco found that maybe, just maybe this muggle could be as dangerous and even more ruthless than the Dark Lord. "I guess that Hermione will still cut off your nuts so you won't have much use from trying to rape girls anymore. But that's for her to decide and to do. If you are lucky, she will let me kill you. Now, I want you to tell me where all you death-eaters live. We want to do unto you... So, I will give you a chance to tell me before I start the pain."

He seemed so sincere and friendly, that Draco stared defiantly at him. "You won't dare. I am Draco Malfoy, and you will let me go!"

The dentist's smile grew wider, and he forced the bars back between Draco's teeth.

It took Draco only a few seconds to realise that the man dared. And to find out that the muggle had been right. Not even the crucio he had experienced from the Dark Lord was as awful. Yes. It had hurt all over, but it had not taken much longer than a few seconds. And after that, the pain had subsided. Not here. The pain was awful. And even when this awful drill stopped, the pain did not stop. His two left molars shot pain through his whole body as the man systematically opened up the nerval tissue.

"When we came to Diagon Alley for the first time, I was of course interested in your medicine. It seems that you are pretty backwards. You can regrow bones easily, but teeth are a problem. You don't have dentists. If you lose teeth, they are lost. You don't suffer from paradontosis or caries, but I think the times of your charming smiles are gone." A front tooth splintered, and Draco screamed in pain. Wizards don't pass out easily, but Draco did now.

When he woke up again, his broken jaw and his ruined teeth hurt more than he would have been able to imagine. A girl's face appeared in his sight. "You are pathetic, Malfoy." Hermione Granger was dressed in white, too. "Dad has asked me to help him for the next attempt."

The dentist still smiled cheerfully. "Now, Draco, will you tell us something?" The young man broke and described the locations of the homes of the death-eaters, their names and everything he knew about them. Hermione copied everything down, then, when Draco had finished, she nodded. "Thank you. And now, it's time for revenge. Daddy, if you would?"

In the early hours of the morning, an unconscious body was dumped in front of St. Mungo's. The formerly pretty smile of Draco Malfoy was forever destroyed. His teeth were destroyed, only the soft tissue of nerval fiber was left. His face had a haunted expression on par with that of the Longbottoms.

AN: I am not sure if I continue that. It could be fun to see Hermione as an up and coming Dark Lady. And all who have read (those who didn't, do!) Harry Potter and the evil summer vacation by meteroicshipyards know exactly where the real evil is.