A/N: Hello amazing readers! This is my first fanfic... really, my first attempt at writing any fanfic, but I hope you enjoy it! There will be crazy grammar errors, I don't have a beta, so please be gentle— I'll get to them when I can. (:

This story is extremely dark. Our MC, Hermione Granger, is not going to be the goody two-shoes we adore in the books— far from it.

Also, Hermione is the protagonist here, so, of course, this is far from canon. & there will be a LOT of changes I've made that are completely different from the original storyline in order for me to make this fic work. It's an itch that's been bugging me for the longest & I finally had a dose of that gryffindor courage & created this monstrosity.

I won't be putting up trigger warnings for every chapter & if graphic violence, explicit sex, non-con, dub-con, physical & mental abuse AND childhood abuse is something you cannot tolerate in a fic, then this is not for you.

**This is your warning**

This will be a Dramione & Tomione love fest, but the end game will be Tomione… I love Tom Riddle more than I do Draco Malfoy— sorry, not really. LOL. So if THAT is also not your thing (Tomione love) then this fic is not for you.

I'll be posting a chapter once a week on Wednesdays. (:

Characters are, obviously, not mine. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling. She's amazing, isn't she?

—

Where it all started

. . . .

Pain.

Everywhere.

All over.

Surrounding her.

The birches, at least fifteen thin branches tied together to create the ultimate punishment weapon, tore her back open. She could feel every cut, feel the wetness of her blood trickling down her back, could feel the cool air kiss her skin as she hung against the wall, taking the punishment that was unjustified.

Punishment was a constant… activity… for Hermione Granger. The lashes on her back were her proof that she had survived. She was a survivor. If she didn't know how to deal with the pain, deal with the torment, deal with the bullying, deal with the humiliation— well, she'd be dead.

Suffering at the hands of the Matron of Saint Francis Girl's Orphanage and Home was somewhat normal for Hermione. Ms. Brenn loved to dish out punishment— to leave her mark and, oh, did Hermione sport the lot of them.

This wasn't the first punishment…

… but it would be the last.

She will have her revenge.

Revenge. Hermione was waiting patiently, oh, so patiently, to take her revenge and revel it in it. She could honestly understand, in a dark, twisted way, Ms. Brenn's obsession of leaving her mark— Hermione had done so with the other orphans and it was lovely.

Hissing in pain from her third lash, Hermione held in her manic chuckle. It wouldn't do to laugh less she wanted more whippings than the five she was already subjected to.

Five lashes for setting Alice Hilbert's skirts on fire. Five lashes for laughing at Alice Hilbert's burnt leg. Five lashes for slapping Alice Hilbert's melted leg. Five lashes for— well, for pretty much breathing the wrong way.

Another hiss escaped her lips and, without meaning to, sunk her top front teeth into her bottom lip too hard.

The first hit. The first open wound— that was pretty much enjoyable for Hermione. It made her feel alive. It made her feel powerful. It told everyone how strong she was to take such things and the rest is, simply put, history.

If Ms. Brenn ever felt accomplished for punishing Hermione for her wrongdoings , then she wasn't doing a very good job. The matron was honestly doing her a favor. No one wanted to align themselves with the disobedient child who received punishments once a week. No one wanted to be seen with the freak less they wanted a whooping out of pure spite for association with the ten year old girl.

The more the girls left her alone, the more time Hermione had to plan her escape. She didn't belong in this rotten place. She was meant for greatness. She was meant to change the world. She was meant to rule the world and everyone in it. Never again will she be held back.

Coming to live at Saint Francis Girl's Orphanage and Home was a mistake. She didn't mean to kill her parents. She didn't mean to cause the automobile to go off the road. It was a mistake. She was only six years old throwing a tantrum over one thing or another— she was six! But they died. They died leaving Hermione an orphan.

That was four years ago. Four years of being picked on by the other girls. Being teased about her bushy hair and her bushy eyebrows. Being teased about her parents dying, leaving behind a know-it-all slag. Being teased because her teeth were huge. She was pushed around, shoved down, always being slapped and she had had enough.

Emily Carser was found at the bottom of the stairs with two broken legs after pushing Hermione off the swing, twisting her ankle. Hermione stood at the top of the stairs, smiling maliciously at her while she cried. Emily was still unable to walk.

Anna Bardwell woke up with her head shaved after she put gum in Hermione's hair, forcing the matron to cut her long tresses. Anna's hair still hadn't grown back.

And Alice Hilbert. She was the ringleader of the whole let's pick on Hermione until she breaks gang and Hermione was going to kill her before she escaped. It didn't matter what Hermione did to have Alice's relentless bullying put to an end. She continued and was more vicious than the last. So Hermione had decided Alice would die at the age of ten.

Grunting as the last lash whipped across her back, Hermione let out a relieved sigh. It wasn't that she was in pain, — oh, she was, she hated the lashes — but because it was a nuisance being tied up in front of the other girls and Hermione, honestly, just wanted to go back to her plotting.

"Take her to her room and everyone will wash up for supper." Ms. Brenn had said, her heels clapping against the wooden floor, making her way towards Hermione.

Gripping her—hard, by the chin, she demanded, "look at me Miss Granger."

Lifting her eyes to meet the blue eyes of the matron, Hermione couldn't help herself. She lifted both eyebrows.

Ms. Brenn pulled her hand back, smacking Hermione's face. She then gripped her chin harder, her nails digging into flesh.

"There is no regret," Ms. Brenn said, calmly, "when it comes to my punishing you." Pulling her hand away, she gently cupped Hermione's cheek, the one she slapped. "You will learn your place in this world, Miss Granger and I won't stop until you do." She smiled sweetly. "And trust me, I always win. Never forget."

Hermione watched, simmering with anger, as Ms. Brenn leaned in and kissed her stinging cheek from the slap. She watched as the matron untied her wrists from the ropes above her head. She watched as the soon to be dead woman walked away without a second glance backwards. She still watched the empty hallway until she knew her anger was under control.

Making her way back to her room, the caretaker following close behind, Hermione was plotting different ways to kill off the matron and make it look like an accident because soon— soon, she will kill her. And she will finally be freed of this hellhole.

It was almost over.

Almost over.

It was over.