Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.

Law for the Protection of Pure-blood Britannia and Britannia Pure-blood Honour

May 3, 1998

1.) The Britannia Wizarding Citizenship Law

The Ministry of Magic has unanimously

adopted the following law, which is hereby

decreed:

1. A Wizard or Witch in Britannia is defined as such: A person belonging to the protective union of Wizarding Great Britannia.

2. A Wizard or Witch belonging to the protective union of Wizarding Britannia is of "Pure-blood" race.

3. The right of Wizarding Citizenship is acquired by papers issued by the Ministry of Magic.

4. Only persons deemed as a wizard or Witch by Ministry Standards enjoy full political rights in accordance with this law.

5. The Ministry in conjunction with the Minister of Magic will issue the necessary legal and adminstrative degrees for implementing and supplementing this law.

2.) First Regulation to Wizarding Citizenship of Great Britannia Law of May 3, 1998

On the basis of C, Wizarding Citizenship Law of May 3, 1998, the following is ordered:

1. Only a wizarding citizen, as bearer of full political rights, exercise the right to vote in political affairs or can hold a public office.

2. A muggle-born cannot be a wizarding citizen of Great Britannia. It has no right to vote in political affairs, it cannot hold a public office.

3. A half-blood cannot be a full wizarding citizen of Great Britannia, he/she has limited voting rights in public affairs, and he/she cannot occupy a public office.

4. A muggle-born is anyone who descended from at least three grandparents who were fully muggles or muggle-born.

5. A muggle-born is also anyone who as follows:

1. An offspring from marriage with a muggle or muggle-born.

2. An offspring from a extramarital relationship with a muggle or muggle-born.

3.) Wizarding Citizenship of Great Britannia Marriage Laws

"Thoroughly convinced by the knowledge that the sanctity of the Pure-blood race is essential for the further existence of the Wizarding World and animated by the inflexible will to safeguard the Pure-blood race for the entire future, the Ministry of Magic has resolved upon the following law unanimously, which is promulgated herewith:

between Pure-bloods and Muggles are forbidden.

2. Marriages between Pure-bloods and Muggle-borns are forbidden.

3. Marriages between Pure-bloods and Half-bloods are forbidden.

4. Marriages concluded in defiance of this law are void and punishable by imprisonment and/or hard labor

5. Sexual Relations between Pure-bloods and Muggles, Muggle-borns, and/or Half-bloods are forbidden and punishable by imprisonment and/or hard labor.

6. Ministry of Magic May 3, 1998,

Minister of Magic

The Dark Lord

Senior Undersecretary

Dolores Umbridge

It started with the decree and the execution of the resistance leaders. I still remember the screaming of a helpless Arthur Weasley as he watched his wife being bound to four Threstrals and torn apart. I remember the blood that coated the streets, the heads of Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Horace Slughorn, and Remus Lupin lining the Hogwarts entrance. I remember Ron's hushed promises to protect me while holding my hand.

We ran. Never staying in one place for more than a few hours. I remember the feeling of his skin against my own, finding comfort with him inside of me. I remember feeling loved, protected and cherished.

We lasted 3 months. I wish I had held him tighter, spoken only sweet words, made love more. I wish I had taken more joy from our stolen moments. I wish…

I wish…

"Where did ickle, little mud-blood go," her voice is gleeful, her smile exposing her rotten teeth, a stench radiating from her mouth. A remnant of her time in Azkaban.

"Let's continue our game mud-blood," she says with a clap. I can barely keep my eyes open. Exhaustion runs through me. I'll pass out soon enough.

"What's your name?" She asks, her face merely inches from my own. Her eyes are dark, nearly black.

I groan aloud, my voice echoing in dark, damp cellar. My leg has started to go numb, the excruciating pain has now dulled to a slight throb.

"Hermione," I cough out, blood spattering against my chin.

Her smile turns into something feral, inhuman and frightening. I feel liquid run down my legs. I panic. No no no no.

"Please," I whimper as I feel tears running down my face.

"Oh, did the ickle, little mudblood have to go potty?"

No no no no. I begin sobbing. I want to scream, but my vocal chords are raw and ruined.

"Poor little mud-blood," she says with a pout. "But you made a no, no," she continues before grabbing my chin, forcing me to look in her black eyes. "I guess you're not housebroken yet," she finishes before cutting me down. I fall full force on my injured leg.

For the first time I truly look at it, the skin is marred, broken, bleeding, a bone jutting out. It's sickening. I nearly vomit from the pain.

I wish I was stronger. I wish I could fight. But I haven't had food in what feels like forever. My limbs are tired from being tied to the post, and I know I'm dehydrated.

She then grabs my hair painfully and pushes my face in the urine. It coats my lips and nose.

"Now lick it clean," she demands.

I only cry harder.

"Please, please, please," I cry out softly.

She yanks my head up.

" If I don't see that pretty pink tongue licking up your filth, I'll cut it out," she threatens, spitting in my face.

I sob as she forcefully pushes my head to the stone floor. I hate her. I've never hated anyone more than I hate her. And I hate myself. For crying and pleading and just being so fucking weak.

I lick it clean. She laughs hysterically.

"Lick it all up!" She squeals enthusiastically clapping her hands together. Like a goddamn child waking up on christmas morning.

She pushes me on my back forcefully and leans into my face.

"Now little, ickle, mud-blood, what's your name?" She asks sitting on top of me.

"Please, I do- don't know," I sob my voice catching raw. "What you wa-a-ant," I finish tiredly.

She promptly backhands me, and I taste more blood.

"Name mud-blood!" She screams.

"Her-Her-mi-one," I whisper.

"Crucio," she screams.

It's like fire, fire burning my skin, knives piercing me, it's like every bone in my body is breaking. It knocks me breathless. I bite my tongue. It won't stop. It never stops. This hell. A scream tears from my lips. My body is thrashing. She won't stop laughing. Maybe I should laugh too.

Suddenly she stops, but my spasms remain. She licks my face.

"Mables," she whispers, her breath hot in my ear. "You're name little, ickle, mud-blood is Mables," she says with a cruel smile.

"Now do you need another punishment," she says in a baby voice.

"No, no, please," I whimper.

"What is your name," she whispers darkly.

All I want is to go to sleep, to sleep and wake up when this nightmare is over. When the pain is gone.

"Mables," I breathe out.

Her smile is feral. She coos at me, petting my head.

Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, the brains behind the Golden Trio, reduced to nothing more than an animal.

I think god is dead. Because he certainly isn't here. Her face looms over me, her eyes a dark void and it is those dark eyes the last thing I see before everything goes black.

Well, there you have it folks. Please let me know what you think!