Hello everyone. This is a rewrite of my story. I hope new and older readers alike enjoy it!

Grief strangled her. Every breath was like a cold jagged knife, cutting at her lungs until she was left gasping for air. Head swimming, chest tightening and heart pounding, she barely knew how she was finding the strength to keep herself up, let alone the man by her side.

They were in the remains of Hogwarts courtyard. The once proud gargoyles who had watched over them, were reduced to rubble on the floor, their peeping eyes staring up at the crowds in horror. What was left of the stone walls were charred with the black ash of explosions. Strewn over the stone cobbles lay a dozen bodies, their blood sinking into the ground and running through the earth. Behind them, the flames that had roared so aggressively over the castle were extinguishing under the heavy rain, yet the sky still burned red, black clouds swirling in the air like a poisonous fog.

"Harry!" A voice screamed. "Harry!" It took a while for Hermione to realise that she was the voice. This couldn't be real. This nightmare couldn't be real. She felt split in two. One Hermione watching the devastation from afar, the other pulled to the ground, buried alive, enveloped in the darkness. This could not be real.

Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, lay dead in the arms of their old Game Keeper. His black hair messy as ever and his glasses were crooked, in danger of slipping off his nose. The emerald green eyes closed. They couldn't be closed for good. He looked peaceful, as if he were only sleeping.

It was a devastating loss for the Wizarding community. The Chosen One as he'd been called. They'd pinned all their hopes on a boy of seventeen. The boy supposed to lead them to victory. It was a blow the war would struggle to come back from. Could they come back from?

Hermione wasn't considering any of that. She was too focused on the body of her best friend. The first friend she'd ever had. The first person to see beyond her oddities. A brother she could confide in. She longed to run to him, to wake him up. But the thought of him not waking up made her stop. The thought of not being able to hear his heartbeat, feel his breath on her cheek. Seeing him lying there, the tightness in her chest threatened to throw her to the floor.
Ron staggering beside her brought Hermione back to her surroundings. Giving him a fierce hug, she willed him to be strong. They were in danger and needed a plan. Though it broke her heart, the rational side knew that grief would have to come later when they were safe. In safety they could cry. For now, they had to survive. For Harry.

Death Eaters prowled the charred remains of Hogwarts, rounding up the terrified fighters who clung to one another like children. Bellatrix Lestrange pranced around them like a pouncing cat, cackling when they cried out in fear. Hermione still had nightmares about the woman since escaping her torture, and she wasn't about to extend them.
In the centre of it all stood Lord Voldemort. The most feared man in the wizarding world. Lord Voldemort towered over them all, his grotesque chalk white skin clinging to his sunken face, his nose flat like a snakes. Despite his skeletal appearance, Voldemort exuded power rather than fragility. Even the very way he held himself was disturbingly captivating. She'd expected him to fall into a gloating speech, but he'd chosen to stand quietly and take it all in. She watched as he breathed in his victory, listened to the screams of his enemies, his thin lips parted as he tasted the ashes in the air.
Forcing herself to look away, her eyes began to scan the crowd for possible exits or diversions. They were outnumbered and most likely out skilled, but it may not be entirely hopeless. If they could find a way to get the Forbidden Forrest they could run to Hogsmeade. Granted, it wasn't the most sophisticated plan, but the situation was dire.

As Hermione surveyed the crowd again, she realised that the Death Eaters hadn't succeeded in rounding up all the fighters. Perhaps some were still battling, or hiding, or may even had escaped. When the thought of their dead faces drifted into view, Hermione quickly banished it away.
Ron seemed to have noticed it too. His family were missing, as were some of the members of the Order.
Softly, Voldemort began to walk around the edge of his unwilling audience. Each step was deliberate, slow, his mouth split into a smile as he enjoyed the rise in people's fear. A predator circling the prey.
"My loyal Death Eaters." His thin voice was scarcely more than a whisper, yet it carried through the air and cut the celebrations short. "Have our guests rounded up and taken away."
Before they had time to react, the Death Eaters had flicked their wands and they found themselves chained. With another flick, a dozen or so carriages were conjured, the kind used to transport prisoners to Azkaban. Hermione shuddered as those around her cried out in fear.
"But first, Draco take any remaining wands."
Awkwardly Draco Malfoy shuffled into view. The only Death Eater who was not shining in delight. His face was gaunt, violet shadows under his eyes as if he had not slept in weeks and his once prized blonde hair was thinning and greasy. The arrogant sneer was replaced by eyes startled with fear. Clearly fearing any confrontation, he pointed his wand at the crowd.
"Accio wands."
Hermione felt her wand slip from her sleeve as any remaining wands made their way over to Malfoy. They all reached out for them hopelessly, but it was like fumbling in the darkness. Without a wand Hermione felt vulnerable. She wasn't the only one.
Voldemort pursed his lips, seemingly disappointed by Malfoy's efficient spell, almost as if he were hoping to see another fight.
"Your choice will be simple." Voldemort continued lazily. "You will have the opportunity to bow before me, to submit to me as your rightful Lord. I am a merciful Lord. No matter who you are, if you bow before me, I shall find a place for you in this new world we shall build together." His red eyes flashed dangerously. "If you refuse, you will watch your families die a slow and painful death. As they say, one bad apple can rot the tree."
Hermione looked at Ron who had turned deathly pale. If Voldemort had captured the rest of the Weasley's his loyalties would be torn. He'd never let his family suffer. But would he be able to bow before the Dark Lord? Would any of them?

As for Hermione she knew that while Voldemort would never be able to threaten her family, her chance of survival as a muggle-born was incredibly slim. He wasn't a Snatcher she could lie to. Too many people recognised her, including the cackling woman by his side. With another pain tightening in her chest, she hoped it would be quick.
The prisoners obediently shuffled into the carriages, trembling in fear. Occasionally they screamed as Death Eaters separated families and friends. They were being split into groups. Men, women, teenagers and those too old or injured to carry on fighting. She tried not to think what fate would have in store for them.

Ron gripped her hand. "I won't let them part us."
"Just stay alive." Hermione murmured back softly. "All we can do now is stay alive."
Ron frowned as if ready to argue but remained silent. You couldn't do anything if you were dead. Not that she had high hopes for her own mortality. But as a member of the Sacred 28, Ron at least would be seen as worth keeping alive.
Voldemort watched the prisoners in interest, occasionally stopping someone to look over as if it were a cattle market. When they got to Neville, he held up his hand to pause them.
"I know your face." Voldemort used his wand to tip Neville's chin, forcing him to look at him. "But you can't be the man I'm thinking of. He lies in St Mungo's, staring at the ceiling and waiting for death."
Neville's face reddened as he shook violently. "I'm his son. I'm not afraid of you. We'll defeat you."
The Death Eater's whooped with laughter while the rest of the prisoners cringed. Voldemort leaned into him.
"What bravery. What courage. What loyalty. Why waste yourself? You come from noble stock, and if you're anything like your father you'll go far. You'd make a very valuable Death Eater, rising through the ranks. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom. No one would ever laugh at you again."
Neville's bottom lip trembled, but he held that determined gleam in his eye. "I'll join you when hell freezes over." He snarled. "Dumbledore's Army!"
Voldemort tutted, like a tutor might at a petulant child. "What a pity."
With a wave of his wand, Neville caught fire.
The crowd screamed as Neville fell to the floor, shrieking with pain. The air was already beginning to stink of burning flesh as those nearest to him tried to move out of the way.
Despite the chains around her wrists, Hermione instinctively began to run towards him. She couldn't stand there helpless. It was Ron's voice that stopped her.
"Leave him alone" He roared, his voice piercing through the clamour.
Although the disturbance had surprised Voldemort, it seemed to please him. With surprising obedience, he stopped the flames. The look in his eyes reminded her of a cat who stopped toying with a baby mouse when he caught sight of better prey.
Hermione looked to where Neville lay. His skin burned and bloody. He wasn't moving. A larger Death Eater lifted him up and threw him none too carefully into the carriage. She couldn't be sure he would survive the journey.
Voldemort waved a hand and Ron was released from his chains.

"I know you." Voldemort said as he glided towards them. Hermione felt her chest tighten further, but she would not show fear. But when his red eyes found hers, it felt as if all the breath had been knocked from her. Never had they been so close. There had only been the close call at Godric's Hollow where she glimpsed the man she hated most in the world. They'd locked eyes then. As he reached out, his hand had brushed hers. The chill of it hadn't left her for months.
Another wave of his hand and Hermione also found herself released from her chains. She moved towards Ron.
"And I know you too." Voldemort said softly.
The man's skeletal features were terrifying. It was clear he had once been a handsome man, but dark magic, like fire, had melted his good looks away until he resembled a corpse. Yet his eyes stayed alive and dancing. She'd thought that up close the red eyes would remind her of fire, but instead she could think only of ice.
Ron's voice distracted him. "Yes, you know me." He said fiercely. "I'm Ron Weasley. Harry's my best mate. I've watched him defeat you for years."
"Was your best mate." Voldemort corrected; the word unfamiliar on his tongue. "He's dead now, boy. Time to move with the new world." He cocked his head, like a curious child. "You're a Weasley of course. A pureblood. One of the sacred families, coming from a long line of purebloods. In the new world I will build, you and your family will be glorified. I can see that you are worshipped. You'll want for nothing." His eyes glanced over Ron's shabby coat, his silky voice radiating charm. "You'll never be poor again. The wealth, dear boy. You'll finally have the things you always wanted. No more hand me downs. You can have anything you want. Shouldn't you be fighting with us instead of against us?"
Hermione knew that the horcrux had tried to tempt Ron with the same things. It had looked into his fears of being the overlooked shabby boy, succeeding in driving a wedge between him and Harry for a while.
"All I want," Ron slipped his hand into hers. "Is to fight for the right for everyone in the world to be safe."
Voldemort's eyes flicked towards her. It was a fight not to look away. Hermione remembered her father some years ago telling that bravery was not the lack of fear; it was having the fear but finding the strength to fight anyway. It comforted her.

"Miss Hermione Granger." He was so quiet she wondered if he ever raised his voice. "We meet at last." She shuddered, but he didn't seem to notice. "You have been so very evasive and yet I have been wanting to talk with you for a very long time. Let me guess, you were the boy's friend too?"
Biting her lip, she nodded fiercely.
"Anything more?"
She flinched slightly at that. Some of the Death Eaters let out a little whoop and she tried to block out some of the cruder comments. Beside her she felt Ron's grip tighten in anger. Hermione knew he had often been suspicious of something deeper between the pair, that something was going on between the two of them even though they hadn't -

Well, not really.
Hermione cleared her throat. "There was never anything like that."

Voldemort scoffed and for a moment she was reminded of the arrogance of Draco Malfoy. "Something happened. You cannot lie to me. You forget I could see into the idiot boy's head."

Yes. Something did happen. But it was only once, and it was only a kiss. A very long kiss. They'd been just lying there; Ron had left them. Harry was exhausted. She was upset. His arms were wrapped round her and she nestled against his cradle. When she looked up, they were noses apart. And then one of them kissed the other and the other kissed them back. They'd kissed for a long time, and then some more, but it was nothing. They'd just been so desperate for physical contact and some form of affection. When they'd stopped kissing, she'd fallen asleep in his arms and no more was ever said about it again.

A small sob gave way for tears.

An evil grin spread onto Voldemort's thin mouth. "Would you like to say goodbye to him?"

His tone was polite, the perfect gentleman, but she could hear the threat in his voice. "Would you like to kiss his filthy half-blood lips goodbye?"

Hermione could feel herself trembling, but the memory of Harry's sparkling emerald green eyes gave her courage. "I don't need to prove my allegiance to Harry." She said, far braver than she'd felt all day. "After all, you're only half the man you want to be."

The insult was clear. Voldemort struck fast as a snake grabbing her neck. With a yelp, Ron was thrown to the floor by an invisible curse, seemingly from Voldemort's hand.

Hermione bit back a whimper as Voldemort lifted her off of her feet, his burning red eyes never leaving hers. She kicked her legs and clawed at his hands, desperately struggling to breathe. Her lungs screamed out with pain as the pounding in her head intensified. This was it. This was her end. Just as she was ready to welcome death, he dropped her at his feet.

The first few breaths felt like knives. It took a while to get her vision back. She looked to where Ron was, fighting against the tight grip of Dolohov. He had cut over his eye, blood pouring down his cheek. Not for the first time, Hermione willed him not to do anything stupid.

She cried out as Voldemort hauled her to her feet. They were face to face, his foul breath like ice on her cheek. He was looking at her curiously. Like a child might as he plucked the wings from flies.

"I value loyalty in my Death Eaters." He said thoughtfully. "And in the coming weeks I need many faithful servants. All you need to do, dearie," a few Death Eaters chuckled at his mocking tone, "is swear your allegiance to me."

A burning hatred surged through her like fire. She wanted to kill him. For everything he'd done. For everything he stood for. For everything he was yet to do. Vehemently, she shook her head. "Never."

Voldemort paused, as if considering what to do next.
"Yaxley." He snapped. "Have the prisoners taken to Azkaban."
Yaxley stood by the carriages. He gave a short bow. "Of course, my lord. What about these two?"

The anger that had clouded Voldemort's face disappeared. "We're going to play a little game." He grinned.
As Hermione watched the carriages vanish, she offered a little prayer. This couldn't be it. People would riot, they'd overthrow the Ministry. Someone had to do something.
With a heavy heart she resigned herself that she would not see what that would be.

"Nott," Voldemort called to the stooped Death Eater. "Give Mr Weasley his wand back. Such a brave ones should face me in a duel, would you agree?"
Nott hauled Ron to his feet and snapped his fingers at Draco who hurried over and held out the confiscated wands. Suspiciously, Ron picked his out.
"What about Hermione's?"

Voldemort turned back to her, a lecherous grin on his face. "One wand between two is quite enough. If you want to be brave, boy, fight for your lady. You have ten seconds."
His meaning was very clear. Ten seconds to try and run away. To escape from a place nobody could leave. The fiendfyre had destroyed the Room of Requirement. Dementors guarded Hogsmeade. Hermione's mind frantically tore through a map of Hogwarts. There had to be a way out. There had to be a way to safety.

Ron moved to Hermione and pushed her behind him. "Hermione, run." Ron muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his blue eyes still not leaving Voldemort.

She knew exactly what he was going to try and do. "No. No, I am not leaving you."

"You have to. Now run."

"Ten." Voldemort began the countdown.

"You run and give me the wand. I can fight."
"Hermione-"

"Nine"

"Hermione, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"Eight"

"You know all of the secret passageways out of here. One of them is bound to work."

"Seven"
"Ron you can't do this." She felt like she was gasping for air. "Please, don't make me do this. I won't leave you. Run with me."
"Six"

"Someone needs to hold them off. Kiss me and run"

"Ron I-"

"Five"

"Kiss me"

And so, she did. His lips were soft. There were tears on her cheeks, but she couldn't be sure they were just hers.

"Now go." Ron pushed her away gently. "Run."

"Four"

"I'm not leaving you." Hermione grabbed his hand fiercely. "We're in this together, Ron."

He looked at her so sadly. "Please don't make me do something I don't want to do."

"Ron, I -"

"Imperio"

And then she was running. Crying as she was forced to run away from him. Hermione desperately fought against the curse, but nothing helped.

It was only when her legs stopped moving and she stumbled over did Hermione realise the curse had ended. No. No, no, no. A curse like that could only end so suddenly if –

Ron.

It couldn't be true. She was mistaken. Hermione didn't know everything in the world. Ron could have taken it off because he was coming to get her. But Hermione knew that was a lie.

She knelt on the grass wanting nothing more than to curl up on it and scream. To cry until there were no tears left. To rid herself of every emotion until she was a hollow shell because feeling was too painful. Her parents were far away and didn't even know who she was. The adults she'd always known would look after her were stuck the other side of a barrier. Her best was friend was dead. And Ron -

It was the sound of approaching voices that pulled her to her senses. Ron wanted her safe. She couldn't let him down.

Quickly Hermione hid behind a tree. It wasn't the most sophisticated hiding spot; however it was the best she had.

The footsteps were drawing near. Each snap of a twig or crunch of a leaf made her jump.

"Come out come out wherever you are." A raspy voice sang. Through the branches, Hermione was safely able to take a peek. It was Nott. He wasn't alone.

"Come out, my pretty." Nott continued as he padded through the grass. "We won't hurt you."
"But the Dark Lord says that-"

Crabbe Senior was cut off by a blow to his stomach and the silky tones of Lucius Malfoy. The latter looked weary.

"Miss Granger, there is no point resisting." His bored drawl echoed through the trees. "The boy who wouldn't die has now died. Everyone has left you. There is no one coming for you. Surrender is your best option. It is your best hope for survival." He paused for effect. "Hogwarts is not safe at night when there are no teachers around."

Hermione shivered.

Lucius Malfoy surveyed the trees sharply. It was clear he knew she was in there. The annoyance on his face turned to charm as he changed his tactic.

"The Weasley boy is dead, you know." He added slyly.

She could not help the sharp intake of breath. Her hand flew to her mouth. She prayed they did not hear her. Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek. It was the only display of grief she could afford to give right now. Holding in all the pain hurt so much it made her want to throw up.

"Are you even sure she's here?" Crabbe grunted sourly.

"Of course." Nott wheezed. "Women are so very predictable. Especially little girls. Come on, dearie. Come out, poppet. Come out, sweetheart, and you shall have a sweetie."

Lucius snorted derisively. "You're not at the playground now, Nott. She's a teenager not a child." He turned back to the trees. "Miss Granger, if you do not come here at once then we shall take you by force. I don't have the energy for such a task and if I have to, I will be angry. Do not make me angry. If we have to take you by force it will not be a pretty, or pleasant, experience for you."

Beneath her torn shirt, Hermione felt her heart beat wildly against her chest so loudly she wondered if the men could hear it.

Hermione took a closer look at them. Could she outrun them? Nott was a small old man, not much bigger than she was. It would be easy to outrun him, but, if the stories were true, cursing came as naturally to him as breathing. His spells would knock her down instantly. Disarming him first might give her some time.
Crabbe Senior was just as she had imagined him to be. An aged doppelganger of his son with thinning black hair. He resembled a sack of potatoes. It would be easy to outrun him and by the way he squinted she guessed his aim would be lacking.

Lucius Malfoy would be the one to watch. Draco had been a talented duelist at school and it was well known he had been taught by his father. Despite the threat of not wanting to waste his energy on chasing her, Hermione knew that he would.

Running away would be foolish. She could still creep away. Heart thudding in her chest, Hermione crept away from the trees, desperately praying that the snap of a twig wouldn't give her away. Her eyes didn't leave them until she was round the corner.

She couldn't risk running into a Death Eater without a wand. She needed to arm herself.
The bodies lying on the floor had already been scavenged of anything useful. Blood of enemies swirling together as they lay side by side, equals in death. Hermione fought not to look at their faces. She couldn't afford to stop and grieve. She needed a wand.
Would Ron still have his? Forcing the image of his dead body out of her mind, Hermione ran back to the courtyard. Her legs and her lungs felt like they were on fire. The adrenaline would wear off soon and she'd be left exhausted.

Ron was still warm. Hermione put her head to his chest, longing to hear the sound of his steady heartbeat, but it never came. He was gone. His wand was gone. This was the end.
The exhaustion and grief hit her like a flood as she curled herself in his arms. Harry's body was gone. She did not want to think where.

How long she lay in Ron's arms for she did not know. She had resigned herself to capture, yet she still fought like a wildcat when a pair of strong arms dragged her away.

Lord Voldemort had taken Hermione Granger for his own.