A/n~ well then, time I get over this blasted writer's block. I fully intended to whip up several more chapters than this during the summer, but I guess I got distracted. Sorry for the long wait. Oh, to answer a few comments/questions, yes, the whole "carceris crudelis" thing is based from the concentration camps in world war two. I got the idea for most of my story around the same time that I was reading Night, by Elie Weisel. Savvy?

MAJOR WARNING: this chapter is a rated R for specific reasons, so if you are really too young to be reading this, I warn you now, that this chapter has some graphic content, and is not suitable to those under fourteen years of age.

Chapter Nine

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"I want to go back to believing in everything and knowing nothing at all…"

            Later that night, I woke up, gasping for breath. I brushed the beads of sweat from my forehead, as I tried to push away the memories of the nightmares. My small room was pitch dark, and there was no light coming through the little round hole that let me see outside. I figured then, that it wasn't yet time to get up; I had woken up early. I involuntarily shuddered because I knew that no matter how much I tried, I would never be able to escape the nightmares. I tried to recall the events from earlier with Malf-Bran, while attempting to shove the dreams away from my eyes.

            Everything seemed so different, so odd. At first, I couldn't believe it, but he had changed. It took me a while to realize that he was really telling me the truth. It must have clicked when he had shown me his arm, the arm where the dark mark was supposed to have been. He scared me at first; I thought he was about to attack me, but then I realized he was only shoving his arm in my face. A little rude of him, maybe, although it was affective, because I was forced to see that there was no dark mark, anywhere on him. My cynical nature started to kick in, and I began to question whether or not he might have charmed it so that the darkmark was invisible or something, but then I remembered, from my studies, that it was impossible to do anything to a dark mark once it is embedded in flesh. Therefore, there was no way he was a deatheater.

            With some hesitancy, I had accepted his apology, and made a truce with him. I remember how awkward it felt, at first, to be conversing with Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and not be furious at him. He, in turn, seemed to have lost his former vocabulary. There were no insults, not hateful taunting; only civility, and possible even friendliness somewhere in there, which bordered on the ragged edge of scary.

            We talked for a long time afterward, and I had explained to him our plan of escape, which was set to be executed within two weeks. He seemed surprised that we had come up with such a detailed plan, but I guess he just didn't understand how desperate we were to get out of there. He was able to answer our only problem in the plan, which was how and where we were going to actually go after we escaped. When Bran pulled out his wand, I nearly had a heart attack. Everyone in the camp had given up hope long ago of even touching a wand. I must say, Bran must have been pretty amused at the look on my face as I tried to control myself.

            We finally had the perfect plan, and with Malf-Bran's help, we just might get out of here. I relaxed back on to my lumpy mattress, realizing that I should try to get a little more sleep before dawn broke. Slowly, I let my mind wander to various thoughts, and I felt my eyelids droop ever lower. Sleep soon encumbered me, and all thought ceased. The next thing I knew, I was caught, once again, in that place, the darkest reaches of my mind, the place just before waking, where my most terrifying nightmares never failed to haunt me. My memories took over me, and I had no control of myself, as I began to remember, quite vividly, every moment of that night, so long ago.

Flashback:

           

            It was a clear, crisp night, about three months after I first arrived here at Carceris Crudelis. The sharp wind was biting at my face as I made my way to the kitchens with three others from my bunk. It was our turn to clean up after the dinner mess tonight, and I sighed as I stepped through the doorway, glancing at all of the stacks of dishes and pots and pans all around the room. The guard who was watching us tonight was a fairly heavyset scumbag, who began his usual shouting and demanding the moment we came in.

            We set to work right away, scrubbing all of the dishes first. Although it was cold outside, we began to sweat from our labors. One might think dishwashing is easy, and maybe under normal circumstances, it is. But we were to finish the clean up by a certain time, or we would be punished with one of the Unforgivables. To add to our misery, our guard hurled his insults at us, and yelled in our faces if we didn't move quickly enough. By this night, I was already used to this kind of treatment, and I had stopped caring about what I was called. I learned to block it all out, so that I could finish my work without being punished. So I ignored the threats and names that were spat in my face several times.

            Our "guard" had brought with him a bottle, which was, no doubt, filled with some sort of liquor. Liquor and overweight deatheater in one combination was never a good thing. We spent several hours scrubbing and rescrubbing, all the while, the guard had been sipping from his liquor. We were able to tell how the liquid slowly deteriorated his mind, and he became sluggish in his movements. His insults became nothing but unintelligible slurs and he could barely walk in a straight line. I would have been amused, if not for the fact that he was still capable in punishing me and the others.

            Everything started to go downhill when the guard decided to become the despicable creature that he was. Instead of insults, we could make out crude comments directed towards us, as we were all female, and he began to brush against us  a little more than necessary when he passed us. It got out of hand when he tried to feel up one of the other girls, Annie, I think her name was. I can take physical abuse and verbal abuse, but to demean a woman like that infuriated me beyond control. I stopped what I was doing and shoved him away, so that he would leave her alone. And he did, except that he came after me. I had already turned around to finish my work when he yelled.

            "Why, you filthy little mudblood wench!!!!  How dare you!!!" He pulled my hair from behind me and yanked hard. I was forced to face him. Once I found the perfect angle, I spat in his face, directly on target, in his eye. Unfortunately, that only enraged him more. He slapped me hard across my face, and sent me sprawling to the floor. As I was on the ground, he yelled at the others.

            "You three! Go back to your cabin now! If you step one toe out of line, you won't live to see tomorrow!" They stared at me blankly for a moment, offering me their pity, and scurried out of the room. And then he turned to me.

            "You better hope the boss isn't here tonight, or you will be dead by morning. Finish those pots NOW!" I got to my feet as quickly as I could, and returned to the sink. There was at least one more hour's worth of pots to scrub, and now I had to do it alone. I barely had a chance to pick up my scrubber, before he punched me in the side of my face. I staggered a bit, but I wouldn't let myself fall again, no matter what. He yelled a bit more, and before he hit me again, he stopped. His face lit up with some brilliant idea, and he smiled, with a hint of malice lurking in his eyes. He told me to finish my work, and to get back to my cabin when I was done. He threatened with the Cruciatrus curse if I did not hurry. And then, he was gone. Just like that, I was left in silence.

            I knew he had some form of punishment waiting for me. Perhaps he would make me suffer through some hex in the morning or some curse that would leave me in pain. I didn't care anymore. I didn't think there was any way of getting out soon, so I resumed my work. For the next hour or so, I scrubbed the last of the pots, and stacked them neatly in their places. I took a moment to splash some cold water on my face, in hopes of at least making myself feel a little cleaner. I realized then, that I would have to walk all the way back to the cabin alone, in the dark. It wasn't that big of a deal, I knew how to get to it, but something inside of me was flashing a warning through my mind. I ignored it, of course, and proceeded to leave the kitchens.

            I stepped out into the night, and was struck by the blast of cold air. The robes that each of us prisoners had were not any where close to being protective against the frosty winds and bitter winter cold that had set in at the camp. There was a lantern that lighted a small area of ground around the door to the kitchens. I only walked a few feet before I was completely enveloped in darkness. I remembered there being a building near the door to the kitchens, not far away from where I was, and once I rounded that, I would have to walk down the long avenue to my cabin.

            Then, without warning, I was seized from behind. I could not see what was going on, or who had grabbed me. But I felt the hands that had wrapped around my mouth, and let go just after someone, a man, whispered the silencing spell. I could not scream, or make any sound for that matter, as my attacker threw me on the ground. I kicked and struggled, trying to get free, but then, the same voice as before muttered another curse. I immediately lost all control of my body. I could not make my legs or my arms move, I could not struggle at all. I screamed and screamed, but no sound came out, no one could hear me.

            A moment later, I realized that there more of them. Their outlines became visible as my eyes adjusted to the dark. I could make out six of them, and I heard their low whispers and occasional bouts of laughter. My first attacker now had complete control over me, and soon began to destroy me. I cannot even begin to describe how much pain I was put through, nor do I want you to ever know how I died many times over in those next minutes of my life. I was taken advantage of; my dignity was stripped from me completely, as each one of the guards took turns ruining me. Each one of them also beat me, breaking me in more ways than one. I cried and wept and fought with every ounce of strength I had in me. I pleaded silently for them to stop, but they wouldn't. I soon started begging them to just kill me now, and stop the pain.

            But I was denied that request. They didn't care what I felt, they didn't care that they had just ruined whatever future I might have had. I was no good anymore. Useless, dirty, mudblood was all I could be now. Soon, but not soon enough, they tired of me, and left me in the cold night, and freed me of the curses that had kept me still. They had disappeared silently into the night, no doubt mocking me as they left. They had their fun, but I was left to weep alone in the dark. I must have laid there for hours, crying to myself, mourning the loss of my innocence. I wept for my now hopeless future.

            I wish that I could tell you that I was strong. I wish that I could say that I moved on without hindrance, but I can't. I struggled back to the cabin, and silently crawled onto my mattress. I wept silently, not wanting to draw attention to myself. The next morning, I had already withdrawn into myself, refusing to look at or speak to anyone. I felt like a caged animal, and every time a boy or man came near me, I fought to keep myself from screaming. Sean had asked me if I was alright, as did my other new friends there, but I avoided them at all costs. I was ashamed that I had been taken advantage of, and I couldn't let anyone know how weak I had become.

            I went through a long period of self-hate. I hated myself for everything I did. I hated myself for being so vulnerable that I couldn't protect myself. I hated myself for every sneer and side glance that the guards had thrown my direction after that night. I began to give up hope, and I lost all sense of the world around me. I truly didn't care anymore whether I lived or died. I almost didn't want to escape, because I knew I could never face Harry and Ron after this. I could never trust them again, after what happened. I could never let myself be near their kind again. I could not let this pain reoccur, because it was more than I could bear. 

            It wasn't but about a month later that I noticed a few other girls whose faces reflected the same pain I bore. I realized that I wasn't the only one who was suffering like this. I also realized that I had been selfish, and I realized that I had to put my own pain last. I began to try to forget what happened; I began to push the memories as far back in mind as I could. It was then that I became stronger, and the people began to consider me their leader. I snapped out of my self-pity, and began to try to help others. I realized that if for nothing else, I had to live, because I might help the others escape. But no matter what, the memories still came to me, and I still suffered through the nightmares. I could not escape them, even now, so many months later.

End Flashback

            I woke suddenly again, and realized I had been crying out in my sleep. The nightmares, when they came, took control, and I could do nothing to escape them. A split second later, I realized I was not alone. Someone had opened the door and silently slipped in. For a moment, I feared that it was another nightmare, and I curled myself into the tightest ball that I could, and an involuntary whimper escaped my throat. Not again, I thought. It was a moment later that I realized I was really awake, because the person spoke.

            "Hermione…?"

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A/N~ don't hate me please!!!!!!!! I know it's cruel, but trust me, for the sake of the plot, it had to happen. Don't say I didn't warn you!!! (instead of ducking rotten veggies, she takes them full in the face in defense of her own plot) Feel free to flame me, if you think it necessary to do so, but know, that I will still stand by this decision, because I know how much better things are going to get. Trust me. Now I wonder, who could this person be…?