Chapter 3-

Ron stared at the scars in horror, not even being able to imagine the terror she had been through in the years they were separated. He tried to comfort her, but she only sobbed harder and curled further into a ball.

"Hermione? What…what happened? Please…let me hold you," he begged, as he tried to hold her and she pushed him away.

"This was a mistake…it's all a mistake. Please, Ron, just go away…pretend this never happened." Hermione sobbed, but she was no longer pushing away the strong arms that enveloped her frail figure.

"And leave you like this? After all the time it took for me to find you? Never- I'll die first." Ron said staunchly, but sounding more confidence than he felt. "You…you mentioned Death Eaters. What did…did they…?"

Ron trailed off, leading toward the dreaded question that he wondered whether he really wanted the answer to it. Hermione took a deep breath, and sat up slowly. She felt the world spinning around her, and it took all of her control not to vomit…it was control she had learned the hard way, through years of…of…but she couldn't force herself to think about it. Talking was hard enough.

"Ron…when I said that I had had some run-ins with the Death Eaters, I didn't mean that I had fought them in the war. They…they found me in hiding. I had made some fierce enemies back when we were in Hogwarts, and I knew now…without the protection of Dumbledore…"

Hermione and Ron both hung their heads in silent, respectful remembrance of the Headmaster who had died bravely in fighting during their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Wiping her eyes, Hermione forced herself to keep talking.

"Without him, they knew that I was powerless. All the book-smarts in the world could never have made up for the street-smarts that you or Harry had…and I didn't want to put you in more danger. Harry was in enough danger as it was…and I knew that the Death Eaters, thinking that I could lead them to you two, would keep me around to find out."

"Wait, wait…so you…you pretended to be an ally of the Death Eaters?" Ron gasped in shock.

"Sort of. It was more of an agreement…if I told them where you two were, they would keep me alive…and nothing is worse than a death by their hands. It was strange, because I always thought that they saw me as a silly, useless girl. But I guess I was a more formidable enemy than I thought I was, because they were scared…Lord, were they scared. When Voldemort…"

"Hermione!" Ron yelped.

"Ron, stop! When Voldemort was not close by to keep a watch on me, the Death Eaters were terrified that my skills in magic could surpass theirs."

"So, what happened then?" Ron asked, barely daring to breathe.

"They…they found out that I had been giving them false leads…I knew they would eventually, but I was hoping to borrow enough time for Harry to get away, or to beat Voldemort…either one. That time came too late though, and someone tipped Voldemort off that I had been feeding them false lines. That night…that night, one of the Death Eaters came for me. I knew what had happened, because usually, the Death Eaters treated me with a sort of contempt and respect. They thought I had been helping them out of fear of death, but they knew I held the fate of the war in my hands. This time though, the Death Eater dragged me through the underground trails of Voldemort's world by my hair until we reached the room where the other Death Eaters and Voldemort were."

"And then?"

"And then…" Hermione's voice broke, but she continued, "And then each Death Eater proceeded to beat me…and rape me. I was raped by each one at least three times, but I passed out before it was all over. When I came to, Voldemort was standing over me…before he took his turn on my used, wasted, body…he told me that the scars of my punishment would echo through the course of my life as long as I lived, and for every false lead I gave him, it would come back to me ten-fold…"

Hermione barely finished her last thought before she broke down. Ron put his arms around her, but he could barely contain the shivering, shaking, broken woman in his arms.

"Oh gods…Hermione…they…I can't believe it. So, was that the only time, or…?"

"No…I was Voldemort's mistress every night…and every night, when he was through, he let his favorites have their turn." Her voice suddenly turned hard, and angry. "Beasts! Every one of them were beasts! They enjoyed hurting me more than their own release. In fact, it seemed that they couldn't release unless they saw the trails of blood running down my back from where they had lashed at me with leather straps. But that wasn't the worst of it…what was the worst, were the words Voldemort would say to me every night as he took me- that I was his, all his." Hermione finished in a voice barely above a whisper. "And for the rest of time, he will echo through my head…because I was his, all his."