Chapter One: In Her Music Box.

Hermione Granger drew her knees up to her chest. Sitting in the back of her parents car, she eagerly awaited to arrive at Grand Central Station. How she craved the security of her warm bed in the Gryffindor Dormitory, she needed the safety, the warmth, the utter atmosphere that let her know it was all going to be alright. Her mother had the radio turned all the way up, and Hermione tried to focus on the music rather than her father's hands gripping the wheel, she hated those hands, and the distant, hazy look in her mothers eyes.

She focused on the guitar riff, the heavy bass, the soft singing……

"Hermione." She jumped, her fathers commanding voice snapping her out of her trance.

"Yes?" She answers meekly.

"We're here, darling."

"Oh, oh, of course!" she exclaimed nervously, clambering at the door handle. Her father grins, climbs out of the drivers seat, walks around and lets her out. Hermione hurriedly collected her things, wanting more than anything to disappear into the crowd at the train station.

Her mother got out of the car. "Hermione, dear." She said emptily, holding out her arms. She hugged her mother, and kissed her on the cheek. She's so thin the teen thought despairingly, her mothers ribs sharply poking her in the stomach. She pulled out of the embrace and made way to leave.

"Sweetheart," her fathers voice assaulted her ears. She turned around, staring at him, hating the huge, jovial grin plastered across his face. "Where's my hug?" He placed a strong hand on her shoulder, and pulled her against his chest. Hermione shakily hugged him back. She wanted to vomit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bellatrix Lestrange washed the blood from her hands in the stone basin. Filthy Mudbloods she thought, grinning, reminiscing over the torturous deaths she'd put those disgusting, good-for-nothing creatures through.

"Bellatrix, come to bed. The Dark Lord wishes to congregate with us in the morning." Rodolphus said.

"Oh, shut your mouth. You didn't even appreciate my work tonight, but surely he will reward me. I'll come to bed when I please." She snapped, shivering in anticipation of what was to come the next day. She loved his power, his hissing voice, and when he made her writhe in pain, no matter how much, it gave her the greatest joy she had ever known. Hurting others was one of her great pleasures, but being hurt herself was utter ecstasy. She didn't let on to this often, but she hoped for it every day.

She would escape in the sounds of her victims screams, each one intensifying the effect, the power she held over them. Oh, it was a wonderful escape.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lay down in that music box.

Escape in the sound of that music box.