Disclaimer: I don't own anything not even the plot. TridentLayers did the first seven chapters. She came up with the plot.

Chapter One: A memory

Hermione stared into the old, grimy, cracked mirror on the far wall of her attic bedroom. The room was small and square with only one circular window that she had to climb up on her dresser to look out of it. The room was always cold because of the wind gusting through the rafters. You would think that the Malfoys, one of the richest families in England, would have warmer attic. During the night it got even colder and her thin quilt and nightgown did nothing to keep the cold at bay, particularly throughout the winter months.

She sighed and thought of her two best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. A tear rolled her cheek as she recalled the fate that had befallen them. They were dead. There was no eluding that point. She fell back into her bed. Ron had died defending her from Bellatrix Lestrange, luckily taking Bellatrix with him. Harry perished in the last battle with Voldemort. The prophecy had come true after all. Neither can live while the other survives. Unfortunately it had been Harry who couldn't survive and not Voldemort. Soon afterwards all of the muggle-borns had been rounded up and were given a trial before being sentenced to their fate. A tremor ran down Hermione's spine as she remembered her own trial.

She was sitting in a stone chair in what looked like a dungeon but was really the trial room. Umbrige and Yaxley walked in. Yaxley looked down at her, repulsed as though she was some cockroach he needed to crush under his boot. Umbridge just wore her usual little, playful smile and carried a clipboard.

"Name," Yaxley's voice echoed around the stone room.

"Hermione Jean Granger," her voice a little softer then she would have liked, after she said this Umbridge made a tiny note on her clipboard.

"Age," again Yaxley's voice sounded throughout the room.

"Seventeen," Hermione's voice was stronger this time which pleased her. Again a note went onto Umbridge's clipboard.

"Blood status," this time it was Umbridge's sickly sweet tone that echoed around the room. She didn't bother to respond. The answer to that question was the entire reason that she was here, but she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing her admit it. She still had some pride left.

"Blood status," Umbridge repeated in the same tone, but all trace of the smile had disappeared from her face. Again Hermione did not answer still refusing to give them the satisfaction.

"She asked you a question!" Yelled Yaxley, "answer her you filthy Mudblood!" Yaxley sounded frustrated. But this time he had crossed the line by calling her a Mudblood.

"No." Her voice sounded tougher then she felt. "No I won't because that is a painfully obvious question. You already know the answer otherwise I wouldn't be here. So yeah I am a Mudblood but telling you that wouldn't change my so called 'punishment'. Telling you that I was a pure-blood or a half-blood still wouldn't change anything because you don't care. This trial is for nothing really because basically you have already sentenced me. This trial is all just for show, just to give the 'Daily Prophet' something to print in tomorrow's paper. Can we please just get on with it already so that I can go and face my fate?" Hermione hadn't noticed that during her outburst that she had stood up. Hastily, chest heaving, she sat back down.

"You make a valid point," Umbridge said and then turned to Yaxley "do you think we should just tell her what her punishment is to be and get on with the rest of the trials today?"

Yaxley sat back into his chair and thought about it for a couple minutes before answering. "Alright, it will help us to get further work done today by skipping the rest of the trial." He picked up the dark wooden gavel the sat next to him and raised into the air, "Hermione Jean Granger you are sentenced to spend your life working for the Malfoys for the rest of your life," he brought the gavel down with a hard smack that reverberated off of the stone walls.

"WHAT! NO!" She exclaimed as the dementors from the hallway came in and grasped her forearms with their scabby, rotted hands. She shrieked and fought at them but it was no use their grip was too strong as they dragged her out of the room.

That was how she had come to be here. Now her life was a mass of chores and orders. Draco, or Young Master Malfoy, as she was required to call him now, personally seemed to enjoy bossing her around like she was some house elf.

"Hermione, come here now!" Narcissa Malfoy, aka Mrs. Malfoy, called from downstairs. She sighed and left the security of her room to, what she thought as, a battle field and there was no one on her side.