Disclaimer: Sadly, i do not own anything but the plot here. (Sighs)
IF YOU READ THE SUMMARY, IT SAYS IT CONTAINS NON-CON. SO DON'T READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH IT.
It was dusk. The moon could be seen clearly in the sky, yet there was still enough sunlight to cast shadows from the trees in the forbidden forest. It was a full moon tonight and she was glad. She would have ample light to help her around the forest tonight.
She had been on the run for over five years now and this has been the only time they've been so close to her tail. Five years of evading capture from those who had taken over the ministry. Five years after the war. Five years after he died.
The forest was her third destination in the week. She had narrowly escaped them yesterday. Eye bags were noticeable as she had little sleep in the past few days. Her paranoia was getting the best of her and every little movement in her surroundings awoke her. The flap of bird wings. The thump of faraway centaurs. The stealthy step of a passing forest cat. She heard them all.
She sat down under an Oak tree to rest, softly plopping her purple bag on the ground. She stretched her legs and fixed some tears on her worn-out jeans, dirty grey shirt with the use of her trusted wand.
It was autumn and leaves were falling from the trees. The ground was not just dirt and grass anymore but a grave of thousands of dead leaves. It was nearing winter and the air was getting colder. It made her whole body shiver. She stopped repairing her clothes and pulled her brown sweater closer to her body. She realized what the abysmal outcome of the staying out in the cold would be and cast a heating charm. It was warm and soothing, comforting and relaxing, and yet her skin still prickled.
The chills she had were not just from the weather. It too was from the hollow sound of the rustling trees around her, the hooting of the owls, and the darkness that was starting to overwhelm the forest. But most of all, it was from the loneliness she was feeling. The fact that she hasn't been in any contact with people she loved made her feel empty. It was also the fact that they were mostly dead or most likely to be.
And then she heard it.
There was a faint crack; the sound of a twig breaking and indistinct voices nearing. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and steadied her breathing.
They're here. She thought.
"It's still hot. I can still feel her magic." A raspy voice of a man said.
"Then we are not too far from her," said another.
Oh yes. You certainly are not too far. Her mind added.
She slowly stood up and hid behind the tree, putting her purple bag on and pulling her brown sweater up, hoping it would camouflage her with the trees. She wanted to find a quick way out but she could not disapparate easily from the insides of the forest. The feeling of idiocy swallowed her. It was extremely unintelligent of her to gain refuge at a place with anti-disapparition wards. She had no easy way out. Her lack of rest had taken a toll on her and impaired her better judgment, providing her no escape.
From her line of vision, she could see at least ten hooded figures. She would not stand a chance against them if she fought. All she could try to do was run as fast as she could and as unnoticeable as possible to the disapparition point she knew was at the forest's end. It was still a mile or two away but she had to try.
She inhaled deeply and took her first shaky step. The sound of dead leaves crushing beneath her feet echoed through the dim forest, giving her away. With the little energy she had left, she ran as fast as she could knowing the hooded men were trailing just a few meters behind her.
She could hear her ragged breath and the sound of curses being shot at her. She could not care to look nor fire back however. All she could think of was reaching the edge of the forest, her only hope in a hopeless predicament.
There were not ten but twelve men running after her, firing as many hexes her way. She had run half a mile when one hit her and made her spiral in the air and land forcefully to the ground with a loud thud.
More than five years of energy and efforts dissipated instantaneously. Five years of hopeful yet empty freedom. Five years of tears were put to waste. Tears for the people she promised life and retribution. All gone. And in that moment she could see her slow death.
She groaned from the throbbing pain in her right ankle. She knew it was broken as she lay on the ground clutching her foot.
A lanky man stood above her and took off the hood of his black robes, revealing his hard face and long blonde hair. Though the sun had vanished, she could clearly see the features of the man through the light cast by the full moon.
"Nott." She said flatly as she looked him in the eye.
"Hello Granger." He spoke, an evil glint in his eyes as he looked up to the sky. " It's a lovely evening for torture, don't you think?"
Hermione stared at him darkly as she held back a scream of pain. "It's torture enough to have to see your ghastly face."
"Still got that sharp tongue, I see mudblood." Nott circled Hermione's weak body, not once taking his eyes off her. "We'll see about that. Crucio."
Hermione screamed as more pain flooded her body. The feeling of thousands of whips striking her skin engulfed her. Her lying figure on the ground shook violently as tears began to pour from her closed lids. She yearned for someone, anyone, to hear her screams and rescue her from the unrelenting pain that was slowly drowning her consciousness.
"That is enough Theo." A soft voice spoke.
Another hooded figure strode beside Nott and lowered his hand, removing the curse from Hermione. The cruciatus was instantly lifted but her body continued to twitch from the waning pain. The cloaked figure hovered over her, seemingly examining the lain woman on the ground, assessing the situation.
Hermione was curious and thankful as she hazily stared back, hoping to glimpse at the obscured face. Her breath gradually calmed. Her mind slowly blanked. As the figure bent towards her, she saw a hint of dark brown hair.
Hermione eagerly succumbed to the darkness that called her, thankful to forget for a moment her imminent misery.
...
Hermione awoke with the feeling of movement. Her eyes abruptly fluttered open as memories from the earlier incident swamped her and made her panic. It was dark, cramped, and smelled of urine where she was. No matter how much her eyes adjusted to the darkness, all she could see is black; the kind of which would send you into insanity. Her legs were bent at an uncomfortable angle and could hardly move, making her broken ankle throb with immense pain. The putrid smell of old urine that stained the walls overwhelmed her and made her bilious. The combination of the three was incredibly horrifying.
She shut her eyes again for a few moments, calming herself. As she did, the sound of hooves thumping monotonously on the ground became the unattractive music to her ears and reminded her that she was somehow moving. She slowly felt for the walls and noticed they were made of steel.
Remarkably intelligent as she was, Hermione immediately realized she was being hauled in some sort of cage. She was a caged prisoner, Hermione Granger was. A thought that would have made her roar with laughter of its ludicrousness five years ago. Five years ago when everything was better, perfect even.
The thumping suddenly stopped. Hermione was curious as to why and became slightly exasperated of her current situation. She tried to feel for holes in the steel wall and found some but were too small and too difficult to look into with the little space she had to move. No light peered through the holes which suggested it was still dark outside. Alternatively, she leant her right ear to the side of the cage to listen to anything that could clue her in on her location.
Hermione could hear the door of the carriage open and the sound of feet stepping on the ground.
"Would he be asleep at this time?" A voice she recognized as Nott's spoke.
"I would hope not. He does not like to be roused at quite the ungodly hour. It is a Saturday though, I am optimistic he has not gone to bed yet. It is still early for him to retire on a weekend." The soft voice she heard earlier answered.
"Still quite the drinker, is he?" Nott derided but there was no reply.
The sound of footsteps slowly faded and ultimately disappeared. But before Hermione could contemplate where they had gone, she heard a new set of footsteps moving towards her cage. The sound of steel grinding filled her little prison like ten shrieking banshees warning her of her impending doom, making her cover her ears.
Abruptly, the top of the cage opened and revealed a lanky old man with a soot and mud-covered coat. He was balding at the top but had long greying hair at the sides. Somehow he reminded her of Filch. This man, however, had a patch on his left eye and seemed crueler than the old Hogwarts caretaker.
"The mudblood's awake." He grinned, showing his four decaying teeth that seemed to be the only ones left. "I won't be having a hard time. Get down and start moving."
Realizing she had enough room to move, she slowly stood up, careful not to move her right foot too much. She felt her pockets for her wand but did not find it. Her bag was also missing.
"Your wand is gone mudblood. They have it. And your little bag too. So don't look for it 'cause you're not going to find it. Now move." The old man pulled her out of the cage and down to the ground roughly making her land painfully on her already throbbing foot.
It stung immensely. It hurt like hell. But even then the pain could not disguise the horror that rained upon her. Nothing had prepared her for what was about to happen.
Every ounce of color was drained from her face. Her mind struggled to keep up as memories flashed and her haunted screams echoed in her head. She was now helpless and hopeless. She was sure of that. She craved for a quick death as the enormous edifice stood in front of her.
She was not ready for this.
She was not ready for Malfoy Manor.
A/N Please R&R. I hope you like my first chapter. will be posting the next one in a few days. =)