"...within the core of each of us is the child we once were. This child constitutes the foundation of what we have become, who we are, and what we will be."
-Neuroscientist, Dr. R. Joseph

Granger POV

She wasn't the same as all the other slaves. She was allowed to keep her name, though no one ever used it to address her.

In a sick way, she was special. She was the Muddblood that fought alongside Harry Potter. She was the Muddblood that believed she had a right in their world.

When Harry had first died, everything began to go downhill. Ron had died a year earlier, Ginny had been captured, Dumbledore was dead, Snape turned against them, and Molly was killed by Bellatrix. There was still hope though; the order still existed, and it believed that Voldemort was getting weaker. When he had first started showing signs of being poisoned, they had hoped that it was Snape; that he really hadn't been loyal to Voldemort.

The Dark Lord never thought to question Snape, the ex-professors skill at occlemency creating a buffer between his mind and Voldemort. But after Malfoy was proven to be the culprit, and his attentions shown for what they were. All hope diminished. No one stood a chance against the Malfoy; there was no way at getting to him. He didn't allow his followers to get as close. He didn't trust them as much, which was saying something. Seeing as Voldemort trusted no one.

She had been the hardest to capture. She had run, hoping that eventually she would meet up with someone who had the same goals as her; to overthrow the Dragon, as Malfoy had taken to having himself called. Unfortunately luck had not been on her side. She spent over a year in hiding, never once running into anyone who was trustworthy enough to approach.

In some ways, Hermione still wished that Voldemort was ruling the world. He punished impure blood by death. It may not have always been quick or painless, but at least it was inevitable. Malfoy forced those who weren't of higher blood standing into service. Slaves to his whims; Malfoy forced the woman to be bound to masters, concubines for the duration of their life, their wands snapped. He forced the magic to be suppressed within their veins, and punished them by practicing curses worse than the Unforgivables on those whose magic was not kept in check.

A little over a month after she had first been captured, Malfoy's goons attempted to break her. They had snapped her wand and forced her to serve them their dinner, but she didn't play nice with the men.

…

Hermione placed the bowls of stew and plates of bread in front of the men, her mouthwatering the entire time at the smell. She was fed only on plain rice and stale breath, and then only enough to keep her alive.

She had turned around to leave the room when she felt the hand. It grabbed her right below her but cheek, fingers going between her legs. "Come stay, little Bitch. I think I'd like some company."

Before she could think to stop herself, she turned around and punched the man in the face. He was tall and fat, sitting up almost as tall as she stood. She may not be able to defend herself with her magic, but she had been raised a Muggle. She knew how to use her hands. His head barely moved at impact.

"You nasty little Muddblood." He jumped from his seat and advanced on her. She backed up, she knew she was in trouble, but she wasn't about to let that man violate her. She had her pride; they'd have to kill her first.

Her back hit the wall, but she stood her ground. Looking him straight in the eye, she could smell the Butter Beer on his breath mixed with the acrid scent that only came when one forgot to brush their teeth.

His companions still sat at the table, egging him on. She could hear their words of encouragement coming from behind him.

"Yes, I'll teach you a lesson. You'll think twice about acting like that towards me again. He placed one of his hands on her shoulder, she could feel them digging into her flesh. She didn't care though; she refused to be afraid of him. She didn't flinch.

He grabbed his belt, unbuckling it with one hand. She struggled to get away from him, but the sheer size of his body made it impossible. His hands went to the waistline of her skirt, ripping it open.

Tears began to pour down her face, angry tears. She was a virgin, innocent, and she refused to let this man rip her virtue out of her body.

She began to fight even harder. She slammed her fist into the side of his head, this time he let out a grunt. He hadn't been prepared for blow, but it still didn't faze him.

The fire lit in his eyes. She was making a fool of him in from o his friends. He couldn't even manage a petite little girl on his own.

Grabbing her face roughly in one of his greasy hands he slammed her head in the wall.

"Fillthy Muddblood." Black bubbles of darkness came alive in her vision, she could barely see. She had almost resigned herself to his treatment; thinking only that if she had had her wand, she'd make him pay.

His face came in closer to hers; she knew he was going to kiss her. And then, he let go and was off her. She heard the crash before she saw what happened. He lay atop the table, his legs and arms sprawled around him in a puddle of blood on the table, his legs hanging off the edge.

There were gashes lining every part of his body, his robes having been ripped to expose the skin.

The other inhabitants of the room looked from him, to her. No one wanting to come near her. She knew that she would be in trouble as soon as the men came to their senses. Not turning her back on them, she fled the room out the door she'd come.

A week after that incident, men dressed in black with their faces hidden came to collect her. She hadn't heard anything about the incident, other than that the man had not made it, and she knew that her time was coming. Still, she couldn't help but feel a small since off pride at what she had done. She had defended herself, and no one could take that away from her.

Roughly, threw a cloak at her and had her pull the hood over her face. That was the first time she had seen the new Dragon.

Malfoy used the slaves as Guiney pigs. Their punishment was to be used as practice for the nastier curses and hexes that the man read about in the many books he had hidden away in his chambers.

Hermione couldn't remember much about that night, but she did know that her magic had failed to protect her that time.

…

Malfoy had not known she was in the castle, that wasn't shocking. He didn't take time to know such mundane things. She was nothing to him. He didn't care whether she was alive or dead.

It was customary that someone went to fetch the Dragon if he was late for dinner, though no one ever escaped his rooms without at least minor injuries.

He found it entertaining to damage the help.

She had been sent, it was her turn. There were thirteen girls in her group. They were specially assigned the task of tending the Dragon. Not all of them were of impure blood, several came from purebred lines; either they or the parents before them had done something to displease the Dragon. It was common knowledge that those few girls hoped that they would be taken to their Master's bed; they dreamed that he would call upon them to sit next to him at his thrown. Hermione only wished that she could poison him.

"Get a move on, the Masters rooms won't clean themselves." A broom and dust cloth were roughly shoved into her hands. She had been given a potion to heal her bone, but the pain was still there.

Silently, she took her tools and returned to the rooms she had just come from, thinking only of she could have cleaned the whole of the Gryffindor Commons in less than three hours had she had her wand.

Entering, she cast about for any signs of movement. She didn't care what they said; if he was still there, she'd come back another time.

The room was empty, so she entered and began to dust. It would take her an hour to work her way through the entire rooms. Malfoy had so many books, and it had been years since she'd had something decent to read. She knew better than to attempt to take one off the shelf, he'd probably set wards on them. She could only imagine the nasty things that might happen if she went to remove one.

Dusting each book off, she allowed herself the privilege of reading the title.

There were several on transfiguration, and a few on the history of Magic; but the majority of the cases were full of books on the Dark Arts. Eight shelves total, each one holding over a hundred thick books.

She longed to open one, to learn something she hadn't known before. Reaching out, she brushed a finger down the spine of a title printed in gold ink 'Mastering the Truth Within'.

"Enjoying yourself, Muddblood." She dropped her rag and turned around to face Malfoy. She knew this wasn't going to end well.

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