Part I: Descent into Hell
A short time after the defeat of the good wizard Dumbledore and Harry Potter by the Dark Lord.
It was hot and sunny. The merciless sun beat down on all the people gathered below it, not caring who they were or what they had been through. Ronald Weasley squinted up into the cloudless sky, feeling miserably hot in his wizarding robes. Sweat trickled down his forehead and was prevented from dripping into eyes by his red eyebrows. He tried not to stare directly at the sun, as his mother had always told him if he did that then he's go blind, but right now it was hard to resist the temptation. Being blind right about now would be nice. Then he wouldn't have to see his surroundings, wouldn't have to see the tired, dirty faces of his siblings, wouldn't have to see the grief and anger etched onto all the faces around him. The same emotions that he felt inside him as well. It would be so much easier if he could just go blind and then he'd never have to look at anyone again. Even better, if he had just died with the others, then he wouldn't even have to be here. It hurt so much to look at these once proud people, now reduced to cowering in groups, afraid, grieving, broken. Sighing, he turned his gaze to the ground. It used to be a field, green and healthy, but after three days of people standing and sleeping on it, the ground was looking gray and dead. Ron tried not to think the word dead, but it happened, and then of course he thought of all those people who were dead, of his parents, of Charlie and Percy, of schoolmates, hearing them scream in agony, hearing other voices tell him his parents had been killed. It had been three days since the Dark Lord had fully returned to the wizarding world, returned with more power and numbers than he'd ever had. Before the Order could retaliate, Death Eaters released hungry Dementors upon Hogwarts. Without any warning, dozens of students were kissed before the faculty could react. The chaotic mess that followed allowed the Death Eaters to swarm Hogwarts, permitting the Dark Lord to enter and extract his justice upon Dumbledore. The Headmaster was old and foolish, trusting his school to band together in this time of need. Instead, they'd been divided by fear and suspicion, falling easy prey to Slytherins and various traitors from the other Houses who had helped the Death Eaters gain entry to Hogwarts. Later, in the dungeons, Ron had gathered from the gossip of their guards that Diagon Alley, the Ministry, and Hogsmeade had all been destroyed in one fell blow, a highly choreographed plan that named Lord Voldemort as the most powerful wizard in the world. Now, every one left alive had been herded into these prison camps, which were large empty fields surrounded by magical barriers and guarded by scores of Death Eaters, Dementors, Banshees, Vampires, Werewolves, and other dark creatures. There were two camps here, one for the pure-blood wizards and the other for the mixed-blood wizards. The Death Eaters on this side were working through huge lists of prisoners, comparing those names to the names that appeared on another list of wizards cleared to live under the new rule. Throughout the camp, huge notices had been posted detailing the process and also any new laws to keep the populace under control. Ron glanced at one in disgust, feeling anger mixed with sadness at the unfairness of it all.
NOTICE: ALL WIZARDING PRISONERS WILL BE CALLED UP TO HAVE THEIR BACKGROUND AND FUTURE LOYALTY DISCUSSED. THOSE DEEMED WORTHY TO LIVE BY THE DARK LORD WILL BE ALLOWED TO LEAVE AND RETURN TO THEIR ASSIGNED PLACE TO LIVE UNDER THE NEW ORDER. MARTIAL LAW WILL NOW BE IN EFFECT. ANY WITCH OR WIZARD SEEN THREATENING A DEATH EATER WILL BE IMPRISONED, TORTURED, AND/OR KILLED. ANY WITCH OR WIZARD ATTEMPTING ANY DANGEROUS BEHAVIOR WILL BE IMPRISONED, TORTURED, AND/OR KILLED. THERE WILL BE A MIDNIGHT TO SIX CURFEW IMPLEMENTED. ANY WITCH OR WIZARD SEEN OUTSIDE DURING THESE HOURS WILL BE IMPRISONED, TORTURED, AND/OR KILLED. REMEMBER, THESE ARE NEW DAYS. YOUR OLD LIFE IS OVER. NOW YOU WILL LIVE UNDER THE DARK LORD. Lucius Malfoy, Chief of Domestic Affairs under the Dark Lord
Tearing his eyes from those miserable notices, Ron swore, tasting the acrid dust and defeat in his mouth. He looked through the transparent barrier separating the two prison camps, hoping to see a familiar face. Him, Ginny, Fred, and George, all that was left of the Weasley family, had stationed themselves by the barrier, looking for friends and hoping they were still alive. He didn't know what was going on in the other camp, but from how those witches and wizards looked, it had to be worse than what he was going through. Fred and George were talking quietly to Angelina. Ron looked away from them. At least she'd been pureblood. He still didn't know if Hermione was alive, and wasn't even going to think about Harry. The thought of what a Death Eater, especially Malfoy, might do to Hermione was a constant threat to make Ron lose control and do something very stupid. Instead of thinking about his best friends, Ron was about to wander over to a clump of wizards and find out any new news from them when Ginny tugged on his sleeve. "When do you think we'll get out of here?" she asked quietly. Ron looked at his sister, saw the flame-red hair that marked her as a Weasley, saw the same hair on his dead brothers and parents in his memory. Clenching his jaw tight against memories too fresh to think about, he muttered, "I don't know, Gin. Those bloody Death Eaters seem satisfied to watch us all bake to death instead of doing anything productive." "I'm glad they're at least leaving us alone," replied his sister, looking at her hands. Ron knew what she meant. During their first day of captivity, various Death Eaters had evidently found it entertaining to torture their prisoners by putting them under the Imperius curse and forcing them do perverted things to each other. Ron's stomach still turned at what they made these two witches he didn't know do, making them perform in a sick circus act for their bored amusement. He was glad when the Death Eaters returned to their duties, but knew that their days of fun were far from over, especially with the new laws under Voldemort. It would seem that what a Death Eater said or did was law, and the rest of them had no power to protect themselves. Just thinking about the hideous injustice of what had happened to his world caused Ron to see red and tighten his fists involuntarily. He wanted to do something, wanted to start with ripping Malfoy's sneering head off his body, then proceed to beat his body into a bloody pulp. Then he would- Ginny noticed Ron's tenseness and said, "Ron-don't do anything stupid. I don't need to lose another brother." At her words, spoken quietly but with an intensity Ron didn't know Ginny had until this horrible nightmare begun, he forced himself to relax. It won't do anything to get killed now, not when Ginny needs you, he reminded himself. Sure, she had three brothers left, but both Ron and Ginny could see that Fred and George had walled themselves off from their siblings in grief. The twins and Angelina sat together now, not talking, wordlessly watching their fellow prisoners, shoulders touching in a small measure of comfort. Ron thought bleakly it would be a long time before the twins laughed again. "Stupid like when I thought I could take on those Death Eaters, you mean," he said, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you're alive. When I saw you go charging after them, I was sure you were a dead man walking." "Thanks for the confidence." Ron turned away from his sister, feeling disgust at himself for not being good enough, only mediocre. After a pause, she said, "But then, I thought we'd all die that night." Ron looked at Ginny, thinking maybe she was going to cry again. But she only met his eyes with her dry, empty ones. He said, "So did I," thinking that he remembered feeling like he was already dead and it was only a matter of time before his feet stopping running and dodging attacks. Maybe he did die and this was his afterlife, a perverse kind of private hell. "Look, Ron, it's Hermione!" Ginny whispered, interrupting his morbid thoughts, his eyes following her fingers through the barrier to see Hermione's figure coming closer to where they stood. She walked quickly over, hunched slightly, peering around to see if any of the guards were looking at her. "Hermione! You're alive!" Ron said as soon as she stepped up to the barrier to talk with a small grin framing itself awkwardly on his lips. He saw how tired and dirty she appeared and longed to reach across and pull her close to comfort her. She needed him, he could see from the tightness around her eyes, to be there for him, to make her feel safe. Ron needed Hermione now, he needed his best friend now that Harry was gone and their world had been destroyed. Hermione's brown eyes filled up with tears at his words. Ron was slightly shocked; she wasn't the type who cried all the time, but apparently the events of the past few days were enough to make anyone cry, including the strong Hermione, for her tears had already washed clean streaks down her dirty face. "Oh, Ron, I'm so glad you're alive, you and Ginny, it's just awful, it's horrible over here. They're executing all the muggle-born wizards-I don't think I'll be alive much longer, there aren't that many of us left." Ron and Ginny gasped, and tried to interrupt her, but Hermione kept talking in a breathless rush. "I don't know when they'll come and get me, I don't have much time, I didn't think I'd find you before-before-" A tear slid down her cheek and dripped off her chin as she sniffled.
Ginny sniffled too and Ron felt his eyes fill up with tears which he ignored angrily. This was too much. How could he stand here uselessly and listen to Hermione talk about being executed any moment now? He couldn't imagine Hermione being executed, this was all to horrible to imagine, to even contemplate, let alone watch it happen. "Hermione, I-" "Shhh, I'll be ok, don't worry about me, please Ron? You have to-I-I just want you safe, ok?" said Hermione, wringing her hands together nervously. Ron swallowed hard, nodded once, then said, "Harry?" "I saw him being taken away alive." Ron nodded, so did he. "But I'm sure he'd be dead by now or something would have happened," finished Hermione. That was what he figured as well. "Then it's over, there's nothing left," said Ron, swearing at the Death Eaters, at Voldemort, at Malfoy, at life, at anything that he could touch.
Once he was done, Hermione asked, "Who's alive over there?" "Fred and George are alive, the rest of our family died," answered Ginny softly. "There aren't many adults or parents or any of the professors from Hogwarts. I figure they'd all been killed outright, too much of a threat to the great Lord Voldemort," she hissed in a mocking tone. "Oh no," breathed Hermione. "That's horrible-your parents? Charlie, Bill? Percy?" Ron nodded. He couldn't speak about it, didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to hear it again inside his head. At least now I know how Harry feels-or felt, he thought dully. This was too much, there was too much death for him to deal with, he had to stop thinking about it or he'd go mad. "Granger, Hermione!" a commanding voice boomed from the other camp, softened by the barrier. Hermione whirled her head around to look at the source of the voice, then looked back at Ron and Ginny. Her eyes were large with fear and her voice shook as she said, "I love you two, please be safe." Two Death Eaters came up behind her and grabbed her arms to force her away. "Hermione!" yelled Ron, throwing himself towards the barrier, only to be stopped as Ginny pulled him away. He supposed he should be glad she'd stopped him from touching the humming barrier of magic; it would have knocked him out cold for a day. But he wouldn't mind now. At least then he wouldn't have to watch Hermione getting dragged away to her death. I'll at least give her the comfort of watching, he thought, keeping eye contact with his best friend as she was taken beyond his sight and to the execution station. After she'd disappeared from his eyes, he turned to Ginny, the grief welling up inside him extinguishing his anger for the moment. She pulled him close and together they crumpled to the ground and wept tears of sadness for a wound that would never be healed. "Gin-I can't-it's all over with now," he whispered brokenly to his sister in between his sobs. "We're still alive," she sniffed, trying to be strong for his sake, trying to dry her eyes and encourage him, trying, trying, failing. "I'd rather not be right now, Gin. Living is going to be too hard," he said to her back after he hugged her again, needing something to hold him close and staunch the free-flowing blood of grief from his broken soul. "I know," she whispered back, both of them wet with tears and sweat and blood, weeping for the loss of their family, for Hermione, for Harry, for the safety of the wizarding world.
Reluctantly Hermione pulled her eyes away from where she knew Ron and Ginny stood at the barrier. She could no longer see them, so she turned her face to discover where she was being taken, even though it didn't matter. I'm going to die today, she thought bitterly, I'm going to be executed like a criminal, like some sort of pest. I won't even get the dignity of dying while fighting for something. She turned angry eyes to the trio of Death Eaters in front of her. Her two guards shoved her in front of them, pushing her roughly to the ground. Her knee came up sharply onto her chin and she bit her lip, tasting her blood. In a few minutes, I won't feel this pain anymore, she thought.
"Hermione Granger, you are hereby charged with treason for committing a number of war crimes, including using force against the Death Eaters, known conspiracy against the Death Eaters, consorting with known criminals, consorting with criminal Harry Potter, and you are charged with being a mudblood, unfit to use a wand or magic." Through the man's speech, Hermione's mind roused itself out of her shocked state to recognize the person speaking as MacNair, the same Death Eater who tried to killed Buckbeak all those years ago. And beside him stood Crabbe and Draco Malfoy, casually twirling his wand with a wicked grin on his face. Hermione was distracted from her fervent wish to see Malfoy drawn and quartered by what MacNair had to say next.
"You are sentenced to death by Avada Kadava immediately. Draco Malfoy will carry out the execution." MacNair leaned down to her face, so close she could smell his foul breath and see the cruelty that lurked in his eyes. "Rest in peace, you filthy mudblood."
The guards reached for her arms again and hauled her roughly to her feet. She supposed she was supposed to face her death proudly, standing up straight, without tears in her eyes.the tears were going to have to stay though, and she didn't think she could bear to keep her eyes open, to watch Malfoy saunter over in front of her. Quickly she squeezed her eyes shut, but she could still imagine what was happening, could see it all in her mind's eye. The sounds of Malfoy's booted feet stopped; she knew he was standing in front of her, holding his wand lazily in his wand. He pulled it back, ready to flick it toward her and send green light arching out to kill her-
"I don't think you want to do that, Draco." Another man's cold voice interrupted the mindless terror that had seized Hermione. She opened her eyes to see Lucius Malfoy appear beside his son, looking cool and comfortable in his expensive robes.
Lucius' son immediately turned to face his father, opening his ugly mouth to ask, "What on earth are you talking about? Of course I want to kill Granger. Why wouldn't I? She deserves it, damn scum that she is."
"Draco, I agree that Ms. Granger," Lucius sneered her name as if he was discussing bubotuber pus, eyeing Hermione idly, "is unfit to live among us, but our Lord disagrees on that aspect. It seems that our Lord would like a pet. A very clever pet."
"A pet?" Malfoy repeated his father's words, incredulity marring his face before he once again assumed that smug look that Hermione hated when his father looked at him directly.
"Yes, a pet. Do you have problems with your hearing, boy? Do I need to exclude you from your duty? Or do I make myself clear? Hermione Granger is not to be killed, but to be taken to a room in the lowest level and held until we have time to deal with her. You will take her there. Now." Lucius' gaze flicked from his son to Hermione's white face to Crabbe's blank stare. "I'm quite sure Crabbe and all of his meager resources can manage your job until you return, aren't you?" Malfoy followed his eyes, scowled at Crabbe, then crossed over to Hermione.
"I understand you perfectly, father," he hissed, grabbing Hermione's arm right above her elbow hard enough to make her knees buckle. He ignored her whimper and yanked her behind him as he strode toward the table with various objects Hermione presumed were portkeys.
As Malfoy reached for one of the portkeys, Hermione heard Lucius say, "Make sure you remember where you put the mudblood. We don't want to forget about her and have our Lord's pet die before we can teach her any tricks." Then she felt the familiar pull at her bellybutton as Malfoy seized the portkey and they disappeared from the prison camp.
With a sudden lurch, Hermione reappeared with Malfoy in the entry hallway of a very large castle, she guessed, judging from the sheer size of the impressive staircase. But she hardly had time to look around before Malfoy began striding across the floor to the left hallway, dragging Hermione behind him. They walked down the hallway until Malfoy turned into a door leading into a dark staircase going down. Without paused, Malfoy went down the stairs, slamming Hermione's knee and shoulder into the doorframe.
They went down the three flights of stairs so quickly that Hermione was afraid she was going to trip and fall, and Malfoy would let go of her to watch her fall down down down all the way to the bottom, tumbling and turning, until she broke her neck and died on the bottom stair, with Malfoy's horrid laughter as last thing she'd hear. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on what the future held, Hermione made it down the stairs without much incident.
They turned right and walked until Malfoy stopped at a door. "Here's your room, mudblood," he said as he kicked open the door to reveal a tiny, windowless room, just big enough for a small bed and bucket in the corner. With a violent shove, Malfoy pushed Hermione into the room. She fell forward, throwing her arms out to break her fall, which wasn't a good idea as she cracked her wrists on the stone floor and slid across to bump her head on the wall.
While she remained slumped on the floor next to the wall trying to regain her senses, Malfoy began to pace up and down inside her tiny room. She noticed that he was muttering to himself. Desperate for something to listen to, something to occupy her mind so she didn't have to think about the dull pain in her head or the bruises that she was going to get on her wrists and knees from falling, Hermione listened to him.
"..can't believe that he'd want you alive, you're just a worthless excuse for a witch, how could he? Rob me of my fun, is that what he wants?" Malfoy was livid, she could see that. His hands were clenched so tight and Hermione thought that he was shaking with suppressed rage. She pulled her legs up to her chest and tried to quiet her breathing so he wouldn't notice her. Maybe he'll just go away, she thought desperately. Maybe he'll just ignore this quivering lump of a person and go back to killing innocent people.
"Well," Malfoy said, standing still and looking at Hermione with a most curious expression on his face. "Well, he can't rob me of all my fun. Not all of it," he repeated, taking two steps toward her. Reaching down, he yanked up hard on her arm and pulled her face close to his. Hermione felt like some sort of prey, for the look on Malfoy's face was most predatory, with a gleam of savage cruelty in his eyes.
"Well, well, Granger, you're so clever, let's see if you know how to fuck?" he hissed into her ear before shoving her backwards onto the bed. Hermione fell with a shocked expression on her face. What had he said? Her numbed brain couldn't process it fast enough, couldn't respond quick enough. She found her hands bound with silvery-white cords to the bedposts. This couldn't be happening, she thought frantically pulling at her hands, this isn't happening right now, no it's not, no no no.
Malfoy laughed at her futile struggles, then growled as he leapt on top of her, slapping her viciously across the face. Her head bounced to the left and Hermione saw stars dancing around Malfoy's face as he pulled her wizarding robes off her body so hard they ripped, sending dusty clouds into the dank air. His hands pushed up her thighs until they found the waistband of her panties and he pulled those off too. Now Hermione began to struggle and kick her legs, but Malfoy just raised his wand and thin silvery-white cord leapt out to tie her legs to the bottom bedposts. She could move around but that wouldn't help her now. Nothing could help her now, she realized, sobbing, Malfoy was going to rape her.
"Shut up, bitch!" shouted Malfoy as he backhanded her again. Then he pulled his pants down and shoved himself inside her so hard and deep that Hermione screamed. Again and again Malfoy fucked her. Hermione's cries of pain and pleads for him to stop only made his grin wider, only made him grip her arms tighter. His fingers formed steel vices around her arms, and when she was sure all blood circulation had been lost to her hands, Malfoy's hands let go of her arms to grab onto her hips so he could force himself into her with even more violence. His fingers dug into her flesh, leaving bruised finger marks for Hermione to cry over later. The space between her thighs burned with constant pain, varied by the sharpness she felt every time Malfoy left her body only to drive into her again.
Finally Malfoy was done with her, for he stopped fucking her and got off the bed, breathing hard and looking slightly flushed. Dusting off his robes and running a hand over his hair, he smiled wickedly at her. "My, my, Granger, you're not very good at that, are you? I suppose you need private lessons. What's that? No answer?" said Malfoy, cocking an ear at her, but all Hermione could do was sob wordlessly. She hurt so badly, why couldn't he just kill her and then he'd be happy, she'd be dead, and wouldn't feel like she'd been sliced up inside by a knife made of barbed wire anymore.
"I said, 'no answer?' Answer me!" he yelled, grabbing her by her hair and pulling up. Hermione tried to turn her head away from his, unable to think beyond a haze of pain that obscured her motions.
"Stupid mudblood can't answer, so I'll assume that she needs lessons, hmmm? How does that sound?" he asked in a mocking tone of voice laced with a dangerous edge. "You're to be kept alive, but who said anything about being happy? And the Dark Lord's rather busy right now, with killing off all your precious friends, so I don't think he'll be looking for you anytime soon. That means that I can do anything I want to you." Finished talking, he shoved her head backward into the headboard of the bed, then stalked over to the door.
"Finite Incantatum," said Malfoy, watching lazily as the cords binding Hermione to the bed vanished. "I'll see you later," he hissed at her before slamming the door shut and locking it.
Alone in her dark room, Hermione felt her head, wincing each time she encountered a new bruise. She slowly ran her hands over her body, crying aloud when she reached her inner thighs. Every inch of her felt bruised, but here was the worst. She hugged her legs close to her chest and sobbed brokenly, not caring if someone in the next room heard her cry. There was nothing else she could do.
A short time after the defeat of the good wizard Dumbledore and Harry Potter by the Dark Lord.
It was hot and sunny. The merciless sun beat down on all the people gathered below it, not caring who they were or what they had been through. Ronald Weasley squinted up into the cloudless sky, feeling miserably hot in his wizarding robes. Sweat trickled down his forehead and was prevented from dripping into eyes by his red eyebrows. He tried not to stare directly at the sun, as his mother had always told him if he did that then he's go blind, but right now it was hard to resist the temptation. Being blind right about now would be nice. Then he wouldn't have to see his surroundings, wouldn't have to see the tired, dirty faces of his siblings, wouldn't have to see the grief and anger etched onto all the faces around him. The same emotions that he felt inside him as well. It would be so much easier if he could just go blind and then he'd never have to look at anyone again. Even better, if he had just died with the others, then he wouldn't even have to be here. It hurt so much to look at these once proud people, now reduced to cowering in groups, afraid, grieving, broken. Sighing, he turned his gaze to the ground. It used to be a field, green and healthy, but after three days of people standing and sleeping on it, the ground was looking gray and dead. Ron tried not to think the word dead, but it happened, and then of course he thought of all those people who were dead, of his parents, of Charlie and Percy, of schoolmates, hearing them scream in agony, hearing other voices tell him his parents had been killed. It had been three days since the Dark Lord had fully returned to the wizarding world, returned with more power and numbers than he'd ever had. Before the Order could retaliate, Death Eaters released hungry Dementors upon Hogwarts. Without any warning, dozens of students were kissed before the faculty could react. The chaotic mess that followed allowed the Death Eaters to swarm Hogwarts, permitting the Dark Lord to enter and extract his justice upon Dumbledore. The Headmaster was old and foolish, trusting his school to band together in this time of need. Instead, they'd been divided by fear and suspicion, falling easy prey to Slytherins and various traitors from the other Houses who had helped the Death Eaters gain entry to Hogwarts. Later, in the dungeons, Ron had gathered from the gossip of their guards that Diagon Alley, the Ministry, and Hogsmeade had all been destroyed in one fell blow, a highly choreographed plan that named Lord Voldemort as the most powerful wizard in the world. Now, every one left alive had been herded into these prison camps, which were large empty fields surrounded by magical barriers and guarded by scores of Death Eaters, Dementors, Banshees, Vampires, Werewolves, and other dark creatures. There were two camps here, one for the pure-blood wizards and the other for the mixed-blood wizards. The Death Eaters on this side were working through huge lists of prisoners, comparing those names to the names that appeared on another list of wizards cleared to live under the new rule. Throughout the camp, huge notices had been posted detailing the process and also any new laws to keep the populace under control. Ron glanced at one in disgust, feeling anger mixed with sadness at the unfairness of it all.
NOTICE: ALL WIZARDING PRISONERS WILL BE CALLED UP TO HAVE THEIR BACKGROUND AND FUTURE LOYALTY DISCUSSED. THOSE DEEMED WORTHY TO LIVE BY THE DARK LORD WILL BE ALLOWED TO LEAVE AND RETURN TO THEIR ASSIGNED PLACE TO LIVE UNDER THE NEW ORDER. MARTIAL LAW WILL NOW BE IN EFFECT. ANY WITCH OR WIZARD SEEN THREATENING A DEATH EATER WILL BE IMPRISONED, TORTURED, AND/OR KILLED. ANY WITCH OR WIZARD ATTEMPTING ANY DANGEROUS BEHAVIOR WILL BE IMPRISONED, TORTURED, AND/OR KILLED. THERE WILL BE A MIDNIGHT TO SIX CURFEW IMPLEMENTED. ANY WITCH OR WIZARD SEEN OUTSIDE DURING THESE HOURS WILL BE IMPRISONED, TORTURED, AND/OR KILLED. REMEMBER, THESE ARE NEW DAYS. YOUR OLD LIFE IS OVER. NOW YOU WILL LIVE UNDER THE DARK LORD. Lucius Malfoy, Chief of Domestic Affairs under the Dark Lord
Tearing his eyes from those miserable notices, Ron swore, tasting the acrid dust and defeat in his mouth. He looked through the transparent barrier separating the two prison camps, hoping to see a familiar face. Him, Ginny, Fred, and George, all that was left of the Weasley family, had stationed themselves by the barrier, looking for friends and hoping they were still alive. He didn't know what was going on in the other camp, but from how those witches and wizards looked, it had to be worse than what he was going through. Fred and George were talking quietly to Angelina. Ron looked away from them. At least she'd been pureblood. He still didn't know if Hermione was alive, and wasn't even going to think about Harry. The thought of what a Death Eater, especially Malfoy, might do to Hermione was a constant threat to make Ron lose control and do something very stupid. Instead of thinking about his best friends, Ron was about to wander over to a clump of wizards and find out any new news from them when Ginny tugged on his sleeve. "When do you think we'll get out of here?" she asked quietly. Ron looked at his sister, saw the flame-red hair that marked her as a Weasley, saw the same hair on his dead brothers and parents in his memory. Clenching his jaw tight against memories too fresh to think about, he muttered, "I don't know, Gin. Those bloody Death Eaters seem satisfied to watch us all bake to death instead of doing anything productive." "I'm glad they're at least leaving us alone," replied his sister, looking at her hands. Ron knew what she meant. During their first day of captivity, various Death Eaters had evidently found it entertaining to torture their prisoners by putting them under the Imperius curse and forcing them do perverted things to each other. Ron's stomach still turned at what they made these two witches he didn't know do, making them perform in a sick circus act for their bored amusement. He was glad when the Death Eaters returned to their duties, but knew that their days of fun were far from over, especially with the new laws under Voldemort. It would seem that what a Death Eater said or did was law, and the rest of them had no power to protect themselves. Just thinking about the hideous injustice of what had happened to his world caused Ron to see red and tighten his fists involuntarily. He wanted to do something, wanted to start with ripping Malfoy's sneering head off his body, then proceed to beat his body into a bloody pulp. Then he would- Ginny noticed Ron's tenseness and said, "Ron-don't do anything stupid. I don't need to lose another brother." At her words, spoken quietly but with an intensity Ron didn't know Ginny had until this horrible nightmare begun, he forced himself to relax. It won't do anything to get killed now, not when Ginny needs you, he reminded himself. Sure, she had three brothers left, but both Ron and Ginny could see that Fred and George had walled themselves off from their siblings in grief. The twins and Angelina sat together now, not talking, wordlessly watching their fellow prisoners, shoulders touching in a small measure of comfort. Ron thought bleakly it would be a long time before the twins laughed again. "Stupid like when I thought I could take on those Death Eaters, you mean," he said, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you're alive. When I saw you go charging after them, I was sure you were a dead man walking." "Thanks for the confidence." Ron turned away from his sister, feeling disgust at himself for not being good enough, only mediocre. After a pause, she said, "But then, I thought we'd all die that night." Ron looked at Ginny, thinking maybe she was going to cry again. But she only met his eyes with her dry, empty ones. He said, "So did I," thinking that he remembered feeling like he was already dead and it was only a matter of time before his feet stopping running and dodging attacks. Maybe he did die and this was his afterlife, a perverse kind of private hell. "Look, Ron, it's Hermione!" Ginny whispered, interrupting his morbid thoughts, his eyes following her fingers through the barrier to see Hermione's figure coming closer to where they stood. She walked quickly over, hunched slightly, peering around to see if any of the guards were looking at her. "Hermione! You're alive!" Ron said as soon as she stepped up to the barrier to talk with a small grin framing itself awkwardly on his lips. He saw how tired and dirty she appeared and longed to reach across and pull her close to comfort her. She needed him, he could see from the tightness around her eyes, to be there for him, to make her feel safe. Ron needed Hermione now, he needed his best friend now that Harry was gone and their world had been destroyed. Hermione's brown eyes filled up with tears at his words. Ron was slightly shocked; she wasn't the type who cried all the time, but apparently the events of the past few days were enough to make anyone cry, including the strong Hermione, for her tears had already washed clean streaks down her dirty face. "Oh, Ron, I'm so glad you're alive, you and Ginny, it's just awful, it's horrible over here. They're executing all the muggle-born wizards-I don't think I'll be alive much longer, there aren't that many of us left." Ron and Ginny gasped, and tried to interrupt her, but Hermione kept talking in a breathless rush. "I don't know when they'll come and get me, I don't have much time, I didn't think I'd find you before-before-" A tear slid down her cheek and dripped off her chin as she sniffled.
Ginny sniffled too and Ron felt his eyes fill up with tears which he ignored angrily. This was too much. How could he stand here uselessly and listen to Hermione talk about being executed any moment now? He couldn't imagine Hermione being executed, this was all to horrible to imagine, to even contemplate, let alone watch it happen. "Hermione, I-" "Shhh, I'll be ok, don't worry about me, please Ron? You have to-I-I just want you safe, ok?" said Hermione, wringing her hands together nervously. Ron swallowed hard, nodded once, then said, "Harry?" "I saw him being taken away alive." Ron nodded, so did he. "But I'm sure he'd be dead by now or something would have happened," finished Hermione. That was what he figured as well. "Then it's over, there's nothing left," said Ron, swearing at the Death Eaters, at Voldemort, at Malfoy, at life, at anything that he could touch.
Once he was done, Hermione asked, "Who's alive over there?" "Fred and George are alive, the rest of our family died," answered Ginny softly. "There aren't many adults or parents or any of the professors from Hogwarts. I figure they'd all been killed outright, too much of a threat to the great Lord Voldemort," she hissed in a mocking tone. "Oh no," breathed Hermione. "That's horrible-your parents? Charlie, Bill? Percy?" Ron nodded. He couldn't speak about it, didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to hear it again inside his head. At least now I know how Harry feels-or felt, he thought dully. This was too much, there was too much death for him to deal with, he had to stop thinking about it or he'd go mad. "Granger, Hermione!" a commanding voice boomed from the other camp, softened by the barrier. Hermione whirled her head around to look at the source of the voice, then looked back at Ron and Ginny. Her eyes were large with fear and her voice shook as she said, "I love you two, please be safe." Two Death Eaters came up behind her and grabbed her arms to force her away. "Hermione!" yelled Ron, throwing himself towards the barrier, only to be stopped as Ginny pulled him away. He supposed he should be glad she'd stopped him from touching the humming barrier of magic; it would have knocked him out cold for a day. But he wouldn't mind now. At least then he wouldn't have to watch Hermione getting dragged away to her death. I'll at least give her the comfort of watching, he thought, keeping eye contact with his best friend as she was taken beyond his sight and to the execution station. After she'd disappeared from his eyes, he turned to Ginny, the grief welling up inside him extinguishing his anger for the moment. She pulled him close and together they crumpled to the ground and wept tears of sadness for a wound that would never be healed. "Gin-I can't-it's all over with now," he whispered brokenly to his sister in between his sobs. "We're still alive," she sniffed, trying to be strong for his sake, trying to dry her eyes and encourage him, trying, trying, failing. "I'd rather not be right now, Gin. Living is going to be too hard," he said to her back after he hugged her again, needing something to hold him close and staunch the free-flowing blood of grief from his broken soul. "I know," she whispered back, both of them wet with tears and sweat and blood, weeping for the loss of their family, for Hermione, for Harry, for the safety of the wizarding world.
Reluctantly Hermione pulled her eyes away from where she knew Ron and Ginny stood at the barrier. She could no longer see them, so she turned her face to discover where she was being taken, even though it didn't matter. I'm going to die today, she thought bitterly, I'm going to be executed like a criminal, like some sort of pest. I won't even get the dignity of dying while fighting for something. She turned angry eyes to the trio of Death Eaters in front of her. Her two guards shoved her in front of them, pushing her roughly to the ground. Her knee came up sharply onto her chin and she bit her lip, tasting her blood. In a few minutes, I won't feel this pain anymore, she thought.
"Hermione Granger, you are hereby charged with treason for committing a number of war crimes, including using force against the Death Eaters, known conspiracy against the Death Eaters, consorting with known criminals, consorting with criminal Harry Potter, and you are charged with being a mudblood, unfit to use a wand or magic." Through the man's speech, Hermione's mind roused itself out of her shocked state to recognize the person speaking as MacNair, the same Death Eater who tried to killed Buckbeak all those years ago. And beside him stood Crabbe and Draco Malfoy, casually twirling his wand with a wicked grin on his face. Hermione was distracted from her fervent wish to see Malfoy drawn and quartered by what MacNair had to say next.
"You are sentenced to death by Avada Kadava immediately. Draco Malfoy will carry out the execution." MacNair leaned down to her face, so close she could smell his foul breath and see the cruelty that lurked in his eyes. "Rest in peace, you filthy mudblood."
The guards reached for her arms again and hauled her roughly to her feet. She supposed she was supposed to face her death proudly, standing up straight, without tears in her eyes.the tears were going to have to stay though, and she didn't think she could bear to keep her eyes open, to watch Malfoy saunter over in front of her. Quickly she squeezed her eyes shut, but she could still imagine what was happening, could see it all in her mind's eye. The sounds of Malfoy's booted feet stopped; she knew he was standing in front of her, holding his wand lazily in his wand. He pulled it back, ready to flick it toward her and send green light arching out to kill her-
"I don't think you want to do that, Draco." Another man's cold voice interrupted the mindless terror that had seized Hermione. She opened her eyes to see Lucius Malfoy appear beside his son, looking cool and comfortable in his expensive robes.
Lucius' son immediately turned to face his father, opening his ugly mouth to ask, "What on earth are you talking about? Of course I want to kill Granger. Why wouldn't I? She deserves it, damn scum that she is."
"Draco, I agree that Ms. Granger," Lucius sneered her name as if he was discussing bubotuber pus, eyeing Hermione idly, "is unfit to live among us, but our Lord disagrees on that aspect. It seems that our Lord would like a pet. A very clever pet."
"A pet?" Malfoy repeated his father's words, incredulity marring his face before he once again assumed that smug look that Hermione hated when his father looked at him directly.
"Yes, a pet. Do you have problems with your hearing, boy? Do I need to exclude you from your duty? Or do I make myself clear? Hermione Granger is not to be killed, but to be taken to a room in the lowest level and held until we have time to deal with her. You will take her there. Now." Lucius' gaze flicked from his son to Hermione's white face to Crabbe's blank stare. "I'm quite sure Crabbe and all of his meager resources can manage your job until you return, aren't you?" Malfoy followed his eyes, scowled at Crabbe, then crossed over to Hermione.
"I understand you perfectly, father," he hissed, grabbing Hermione's arm right above her elbow hard enough to make her knees buckle. He ignored her whimper and yanked her behind him as he strode toward the table with various objects Hermione presumed were portkeys.
As Malfoy reached for one of the portkeys, Hermione heard Lucius say, "Make sure you remember where you put the mudblood. We don't want to forget about her and have our Lord's pet die before we can teach her any tricks." Then she felt the familiar pull at her bellybutton as Malfoy seized the portkey and they disappeared from the prison camp.
With a sudden lurch, Hermione reappeared with Malfoy in the entry hallway of a very large castle, she guessed, judging from the sheer size of the impressive staircase. But she hardly had time to look around before Malfoy began striding across the floor to the left hallway, dragging Hermione behind him. They walked down the hallway until Malfoy turned into a door leading into a dark staircase going down. Without paused, Malfoy went down the stairs, slamming Hermione's knee and shoulder into the doorframe.
They went down the three flights of stairs so quickly that Hermione was afraid she was going to trip and fall, and Malfoy would let go of her to watch her fall down down down all the way to the bottom, tumbling and turning, until she broke her neck and died on the bottom stair, with Malfoy's horrid laughter as last thing she'd hear. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on what the future held, Hermione made it down the stairs without much incident.
They turned right and walked until Malfoy stopped at a door. "Here's your room, mudblood," he said as he kicked open the door to reveal a tiny, windowless room, just big enough for a small bed and bucket in the corner. With a violent shove, Malfoy pushed Hermione into the room. She fell forward, throwing her arms out to break her fall, which wasn't a good idea as she cracked her wrists on the stone floor and slid across to bump her head on the wall.
While she remained slumped on the floor next to the wall trying to regain her senses, Malfoy began to pace up and down inside her tiny room. She noticed that he was muttering to himself. Desperate for something to listen to, something to occupy her mind so she didn't have to think about the dull pain in her head or the bruises that she was going to get on her wrists and knees from falling, Hermione listened to him.
"..can't believe that he'd want you alive, you're just a worthless excuse for a witch, how could he? Rob me of my fun, is that what he wants?" Malfoy was livid, she could see that. His hands were clenched so tight and Hermione thought that he was shaking with suppressed rage. She pulled her legs up to her chest and tried to quiet her breathing so he wouldn't notice her. Maybe he'll just go away, she thought desperately. Maybe he'll just ignore this quivering lump of a person and go back to killing innocent people.
"Well," Malfoy said, standing still and looking at Hermione with a most curious expression on his face. "Well, he can't rob me of all my fun. Not all of it," he repeated, taking two steps toward her. Reaching down, he yanked up hard on her arm and pulled her face close to his. Hermione felt like some sort of prey, for the look on Malfoy's face was most predatory, with a gleam of savage cruelty in his eyes.
"Well, well, Granger, you're so clever, let's see if you know how to fuck?" he hissed into her ear before shoving her backwards onto the bed. Hermione fell with a shocked expression on her face. What had he said? Her numbed brain couldn't process it fast enough, couldn't respond quick enough. She found her hands bound with silvery-white cords to the bedposts. This couldn't be happening, she thought frantically pulling at her hands, this isn't happening right now, no it's not, no no no.
Malfoy laughed at her futile struggles, then growled as he leapt on top of her, slapping her viciously across the face. Her head bounced to the left and Hermione saw stars dancing around Malfoy's face as he pulled her wizarding robes off her body so hard they ripped, sending dusty clouds into the dank air. His hands pushed up her thighs until they found the waistband of her panties and he pulled those off too. Now Hermione began to struggle and kick her legs, but Malfoy just raised his wand and thin silvery-white cord leapt out to tie her legs to the bottom bedposts. She could move around but that wouldn't help her now. Nothing could help her now, she realized, sobbing, Malfoy was going to rape her.
"Shut up, bitch!" shouted Malfoy as he backhanded her again. Then he pulled his pants down and shoved himself inside her so hard and deep that Hermione screamed. Again and again Malfoy fucked her. Hermione's cries of pain and pleads for him to stop only made his grin wider, only made him grip her arms tighter. His fingers formed steel vices around her arms, and when she was sure all blood circulation had been lost to her hands, Malfoy's hands let go of her arms to grab onto her hips so he could force himself into her with even more violence. His fingers dug into her flesh, leaving bruised finger marks for Hermione to cry over later. The space between her thighs burned with constant pain, varied by the sharpness she felt every time Malfoy left her body only to drive into her again.
Finally Malfoy was done with her, for he stopped fucking her and got off the bed, breathing hard and looking slightly flushed. Dusting off his robes and running a hand over his hair, he smiled wickedly at her. "My, my, Granger, you're not very good at that, are you? I suppose you need private lessons. What's that? No answer?" said Malfoy, cocking an ear at her, but all Hermione could do was sob wordlessly. She hurt so badly, why couldn't he just kill her and then he'd be happy, she'd be dead, and wouldn't feel like she'd been sliced up inside by a knife made of barbed wire anymore.
"I said, 'no answer?' Answer me!" he yelled, grabbing her by her hair and pulling up. Hermione tried to turn her head away from his, unable to think beyond a haze of pain that obscured her motions.
"Stupid mudblood can't answer, so I'll assume that she needs lessons, hmmm? How does that sound?" he asked in a mocking tone of voice laced with a dangerous edge. "You're to be kept alive, but who said anything about being happy? And the Dark Lord's rather busy right now, with killing off all your precious friends, so I don't think he'll be looking for you anytime soon. That means that I can do anything I want to you." Finished talking, he shoved her head backward into the headboard of the bed, then stalked over to the door.
"Finite Incantatum," said Malfoy, watching lazily as the cords binding Hermione to the bed vanished. "I'll see you later," he hissed at her before slamming the door shut and locking it.
Alone in her dark room, Hermione felt her head, wincing each time she encountered a new bruise. She slowly ran her hands over her body, crying aloud when she reached her inner thighs. Every inch of her felt bruised, but here was the worst. She hugged her legs close to her chest and sobbed brokenly, not caring if someone in the next room heard her cry. There was nothing else she could do.