There was a huge flash of blinding light as their magic collided.

People dove for cover as the entire forest caught fire and Voldemort screamed, loud and unflinching. "The prophecy fails. I am the new Dark Lord, the master of the Wizarding World and soon all of you will bow to me, respect me and kiss my toes."

Hermione groggily opened her eyes as her shirt clung to her breasts, soaked through with sweat, her breathing laboured and short. This was the fifth time in a week that she was having this nightmare. She knew what had happened next. She knew and she wanted to forget it all, desperately, but she couldn't. Not when she was reminded of it every single day of her life. Hermione swung her feet onto the edge of the bed and tied her hair into a messy bun. She had promised Ron she would meet him before going to work. It was not like Hogsmeade was still the same. They just never believed it could change this way, it would be so so different just 5 years after the war. She touched the scar on her hand, and it throbbed with pain- knowledge that she was not free, indelible and cruel.

She skipped breakfast. She usually did. Mainly because she did not have the money to afford more than two square meals, but mostly because her nightmares left her angry and miserable, unable to process anything before noon. She threw some floor powder into the fireplace of her small one-bedroom apartment in the outskirts of Godric's Hollow and entered one of those swanky new establishments that had replaced all the older cafes in Hogsmeade. No butterbeer. They had uprooted all traces of her childhood, they had taken away…

"Oi!", Ron called out to her from the table tucked into the farther end of the place. He looked haggard, his sweater a bit frayed around the edges, a half-grin on his face as soon as he caught sight of her looking back at him. Hermione sat down in the booth in front of him, and pushed her bag to the side. Ron asked her how she was holding up and ordered coffee for both of them. She fiddled around with her spoon, absentmindedly replying back, her mind back to that night, the night that sealed all their fates. She gulped down the coffee. She needed to focus.

"Mione, how is-"

Hermione cut him off. She scratched at her scar and wondered briefly how Harry had dealt with his all these years. The mere thought froze her. Ron looked up at her, pity written all over his face.

"I don't envy your position, Mione. I don't." He put some galleons down as he picked up his cap and left for the joke shop. Sales had dwindled the past year and George had taken up a part time job waitressing at Coffee in Pots, the new cafe near the Ministry. Ron sat at the shop, and did odd plumbing jobs for the elite creatures circle. Hermione sat for a few moments till she shook her head and apparated to the Auror headquarters. At the gates, Arthur greeted her warmly, even though she knew that his insomnia had wracked his body since the day Molly had died. She smiled back and snuck him a chocolate coin that she had bought off a peddler from the Muggle platform at London.

She put down her name next to the list of Muggleborn Aurors reporting for duty, wrote the spells that she had performed along with the reasons beside them and gave up her wand tor magical activity inspection. This was a new wand. Standard issue. Willow wood. All Muggleborns had to give up their own wands and get the Ministry ones. If they put up a fight, killing them was not punishable by law. She had seen Neville writhing under the Cruciatus Snape had cast on him when he had tried to put up a fight for his wand. Neville was a Pureblood so they had left him off after 8 hours. She would be killed. She reported to Draco Malfoy and Samarth Khan, the head of the vampire clans in the eastern portion of the Wizarding circle in England. They reported directly to the woman who could make her life hell, with a twitch of her finger,the woman who had left a mark on her- Bellatrix Lestrange. Lestrange cackled and cursed, interrogated and imperiused in the blink of an eye and she did it with so much efficiency and her trademark cruelty, Hermione clutched at her thighs and talked herself into not killing her the instant she saw her. Bellatrix had made Hermione her own personal assistant even though Hermione was an Auror, with the lowest pay grade (perks of being Muggleborn, Hermione had sarcastically pointed out to Luna) and enjoyed ordering Hermione around. Last week, she had made Hermione clean her office windows just because she felt her mood was gloomy because of the dust on them.

When had everything gone so wrong? Were her parents alive and well? Hermione asked herself these questions everyday, as she made her way to the lobby and took her daily assignment from Malfoy. "Oh, the Mudblood arrives. I still wonder why they didn't send you to get The Kiss but never you mind. Here's your filth. Out."

Hermione caught her file and went in search of her partner. Probably in Khan's office, getting his own copy, or flirting with the new assistant, Ingrid. She dreaded this part of her day. Her legs felt like lead. She didn't want to move anymore. She knew why they'd assigned her to this man. She knew they wanted the power over her to continue as far as she was useful. She knew they would kill her the moment they were done playing. Hermione was resigned to that. She didn't really care as long as she could take Lestrange with her as she went. That she would do.

Rounding the corner of the pristine black office cubicles she reached Khan's spacious suite at the back. Khan smiled widely at her, showing off his gold-tipped left fang. She gave him a wobbly smile. Her face scanned the room and settled on the man settled near the window, looking through a file. He was dressed in a violet shirt and black suede pants. The first two buttons were undone and Hermione quickly averted her eyes from the pale skin peeking out from there. The tattooed numbers, black and bold stood out on the side of his neck near his jugular. If he put one foot outside the line, let any harm come to a senior Pureblood Auror or god forbid, tried to remember, the severing bond would activate and a silver chain would wrap around his neck immediately. Soon, he would be brought to the Dark Lord's tribunal and be executed. The man regarded her with the warmth that came from the 3 years they had worked together. For Hermione it went deeper. She remembered a little boy jumping onto a troll. He didn't. He wasn't that boy. His green eyes were glassy, and cold. His skin was always freezing. He smelled of nothing except the perfume he put on. He didn't have a broom. He didn't smile, all crinkled and innocent and a bit broken.

"Let's get going. There's been some attacks reported on some tribunal members. Lady Malfoy and Lady Greengrass have been hurt and are now in private chambers at St. Mungo's."

He opened his mouth and smiled, his fangs clearly visible, pointed and deadly.

Hermione sighed. With an air of resignation, she followed him.

She asked him everyday. She had to.

"Where's your golden snitch, Harry?"

Harry turned around, his green eyes blank, oblivious to the importance of her question.

"No idea. Been 3 years. You should stop that now."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. She tried to move forward, the hope dying in her chest once again. As she moved past him, Harry brushed the cold fingers of his left hand down her bare arm. She froze. With a smirk, Harry handed her her 'hideous' jacket as he called it and left for the floo room.

Hermione stood rooted in the tiny cubicle in the Mudblood section, her fingers peeling at the plaster falling off the walls, a lone tear trailing down her cheek.

Why, oh why had they forced her into the programme? She knew why. She wanted to torture her. They were winning.