Warning of sensitive content: descriptions of violence, sexual assault, depression, PTSD and mature themes

Chapter 1

The war was coming to a head, there were only a few horcruxes left to destroy.

It had all been going the right way until the snatchers caught them. Being dragged up the driveway of Malfoy Manor, the trio tried hard to fight the fear which was threatening to build up inside them. As the doors to the drawing room opened, they were pulled inside beneath the huge crystal chandelier. Hermione's gaze floated over the occupants of the room. Bellatrix was sauntering towards them with her usual crazed grin, the Malfoys stood to the far side of the room. Draco's eyes met hers for long enough to convey to her his own fear at the situation; he almost looked nauseous. He was between his parents, Lucius, who was frowning at the trio, while Narcissa was stoic, fighting to keep her face level.

Hermione could feel herself beginning to shake. She tried to keep her breathing calm, as Fenir Greyback leered closer and closer to her neck while his arm was wrapped tightly around her waist. His rancid breath made her breakout in gooseflesh, revulsion flooding her every sense.

Everything was a bit of a blur to her after Bellatrix found the sword in her bag. She watched in horror as Harry and Ron were pushed out of the room towards the dungeons, while the mad witch grabbed a fistful of Hermione's and yanked body to cower in front of her. She was shoved hard to the floor and Bellatrix pointed her wand down at her. Suddenly her hands were above her head, being held by invisible shackles. The crazed witch screeched above her, demanding to know where she got the sword and what else she had taken. Nothing could prepare her for the pain which engulfed her. The cruciatus rumbled through her body, pain bursting from her every nerve. She wanted so badly not to scream, but the pain was just too much. As the 5th curse hit her, she couldn't hold it in any longer. Her scream was loud and agonised and echoed throughout the room. When it let up, she felt someone climb on top of her, straddling her body. Bella peered down at her smiling manically, twirling her knife in her hands. She placed the blade against Hermione's neck, and pressed it until it just pierced her skin. The sting of the knife was almost as searing as the crucio which had wrecked her body. It was drawn down from her neck, over her chest, and across her stomach cutting into her skin and slicing her clothes down the centre. The pressure increased as Bella swooped down to her face and sneered.

"I am going to ask you one more time mudblood. You're going to want to give me an answer, otherwise I know someone else who would be happy to get it out of you" her tongue darted out and she licked up the side of her neck to her ear, before looking across the room and smiling. Hermione shivered as she looked up, through bleary eyes at Greyback who was stalking towards them. He grinned, bearing his rotting razor teeth. Her body ached; she could feel the blood oozing from the slice down her body. The werewolf was suddenly next to her, taking the place of the witch who had stood up to tower over her. She felt another crucio rip through her, black spots beginning to cloud her vision as her body started to convulse uncontrollably. Hands were suddenly groping her body, pulling the sliced up clothing apart and away from her skin, until she was completely bare except her knickers. Tears flowed down her face while her body was grabbed and pinched. She started to struggle against the hands and chains that held her, despite the blackness in the corners of her sight and the heaviness in her limbs. Sharp nails pinched her nipples while a rough tongue slid sickening slowly over her clammy skin. Whimpering, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine herself anywhere but there. Alas she couldn't manage for long before she felt a new piercing pain in her forearm. Her body lurched as Bellatrix scratched her knife violently across her flesh, muttering vile slurs into her ear as she went.

Opening her heavy eyes, her head lolled to the side, while her body convulsed, bile rising in her throat. Across the room stood three blurred figures, the same ones who were there when this all started.

Draco couldn't believe what he was seeing when the trio were brought through the doors. All this time they had been on the run and no one had seen neither hide nor hair of them. Now here they were in the drawing room of his home. How could they have been so stupid to get caught? His eyes locked with Granger's when they entered and he could feel her fear. His legilimency wasn't the best but he could concentrate just enough to see just how desperately afraid she was. He hated this, this whole situation was warped. The he may not have liked the three of them all these years, but he certainly didn't want this, what he knew was to come. So he lied, he lied about whether he was sure about Potter. He watched as his father did the same. They both knew exactly who it was before them, and yet neither one of them wanted to hand them over. Unfortunately their lies didn't make a difference for long after his aunt pulled the sword of Gryffindor from Granger's bag. That's when everything started to go downhill.

He watched as the girl he had spent his whole school life taunting and terrorising. The girl he was completely in awe of and had come to care for, being tortured in front of him by his manic aunt. Over the years he had watched her secretly, watched as her friends had used her for her brain and intelligence one moment and then ignored and neglected her the next. He had seen into her mind, just how lonely and isolated she often felt. How unwanted she felt as everyone around her whispered behind her back. He couldn't believe how similar her own thoughts were to his. He felt sorry for her. He didn't want to see her hurt. Her only two crimes in this war were being friends with the boy who lived and simply just being born. Her blood status wasn't her fault, but it was her biggest sin. Potter wasn't so bad really, you could see that he cared deeply for the girl really, it was just that he always had something else that bit more important on his mind. Weasel however, the fool couldn't see just how good he had it. The girl forgave him no matter what he did wrong, helped him no matter how unkind and uncaring he was. Still, he didn't deserve the torture that would he would surely endure when the Dark Lord arrived. Standing between his parents he could feel his body begin to betray him, starting to shake lightly. When the werewolf began to molest the girl he felt two hands grip him. His mother's hand surreptitiously slipped into his and squeezed, in an attempt at comfort. Another hand was strong on his shoulder, gripping it. Peering up subtly, he met his father's misty eyes. The man was struggling to keep his composure just as his son was. The three listened to her scream, watched her writhe and witnessed as blood began to trickle from her body onto their marble floor. Her blood was as red as any of theirs. There was nothing muddy about it, only making Draco's need to help her more desperate. But he couldn't. He, like his parents, could do nothing to help the innocent girl being abused on their drawing room floor. Taking a deep breath, he met her gaze for a moment, though he wasn't sure if she was actually looking at him as she barely clung to consciousness.

He couldn't help being drawn into her mind without even trying. But what he was met with shocked him to the core. I understand. It's not your fault. He didn't only see it in her mind, but he could feel her forgiveness rolling off her in waves. The hands of his parents tightened on his hand and shoulder. They didn't need to be looking into her mind to hear her projected words. This made watching the scene before them even more unbearable. The werewolf was groping more viciously at her almost naked body, while his aunt was gouging something, he couldn't quite make out what, into her arm. He clenched his fist at his side and stared at the floor, willing it to be over soon.

She was vaguely aware of the hands leaving her body, the pain sizzling through her regardless of being left alone on the cold floor. Noises and shouting everywhere, she made out two figures running across the room, before her hair was grabbed again and the knife held hard against her neck, Bellatrix whispered into her ear.

"Look, it's Harry Potter. He's all bright, and shiny, and new again, just in time for the Dark Lord." Then, all of a sudden, she was being shoved to the floor as something smashed to the ground behind her, shattering. She could feel little slices crisscrossing the naked skin of her back and legs. Then a sharp crack and everything around her was silent and still. She lay prone on the floor where she had been thrown, unable to move through the agony throughout her body. Her thoughts went to Harry and Ron, whom she knew were behind the chaos. They had gone, escaped without her…

She was as good as dead.