A Blurb from Me to You: Thank you very much to each and every oneof youwho read and reviewed! You guys are splendiferous, and most encouraging. :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of its characters. Everything belongs to JK Rowling.

"How do you know my name?"

Draco couldn't bring himself to reply.

Could it be possible?

But yes, it must be! Those were her eyes, those velvety, deep, chocolate brown eyes that always used to sparkle with such vivacity and intelligence. He could still see a shimmer of that old Hermione buried deep within those russet pools, but they were now slightly gazed over with something that he recognized with a start and a horrible rush of pity. It was the look of someone who had been downtrodden for so long, that they had begun to lose all hope.

And although he hadn't recognized it at first in the ludicrous black leather outfit, who else could have such slender limbs, such creamy, soft skin, such lush, inviting lips? Who else could possess such a cute button nose, which scrunched up when the owner was irritated?

How could anyone say that this was not Hermione Granger, hidden as she was beneath layers of makeup and years of pain?

In turn, Mya stared at the tall, lean, man before her. He had the most curious eyes, grey, but at the moment, upon closer inspection, flecked with tiny bits of sapphire blue. He was pale, with blonde hair, and had a rather pointed face. There was no doubting that he was a handsome man, and she estimated that he was about twenty years old. But how did he know her name? And why, in the most curious and disturbing way possible, did he look the tiniest bit familiar?

Before Draco could open his mouth to reply, however, a loud bang, accompanied by several screams, came from the bar. The throbbing music stopped, leaving behind an immediate, eerie, and complete silence.

"That's my cue. The backup's here, and once we've got everybody arrested accordingly, we'll start helping the ladies find a place to stay and get all the legalities worked out. I must ask you to please alert your fellow ladies as to what's going on, and keep them calm. Please keep them from running away, because we're here to help, not hurt."

Mya nodded, looking very dazed.

"Mya…Hermione…I need you to please promise me that you won't leave without seeing me first. If I'm right…if you're really…well, just promise me," Draco implored, his grey eyes begging her chocolate eyes.

"I…I promise…" Mya faltered. Where would she go anyways? This was all so sudden and confusing. And besides, she wanted to know how this handsome man knew her name. Could he know about her past? About the life that had been erased when she had been kidnapped those four long years ago? And why, oh why, did he look so dauntingly familiar, as if she'd seen him in a long forgotten dream?

"I'll be back soon."

"What the hell is going on?"

Mya snapped out of her musings and looked up to see that she had wandered into the "relaxation room", where all twenty of her fellow whores had been rounded up. The room basically comprised of a couple of rickety sofas and chairs that were too shabby even to be displayed in the bar, which was definitely not one of high caliber to begin with. A couple of three legged tables were also splayed out across the little room, littered with burnt out cigarettes, pads, tampons, and condoms.

The prostitutes themselves ranged from ages ten to sixty three. Most of them were female, but there were two extremely built men in their twenties, who were proudly displayed on Gay Night. In general, Mya was respected amongst the whores for being a natural beauty. She was, however, simultaneously hated for the exact same reason. Each and every one of them was jealous of the Star of the Bar, the Diamond in the Rough, Mya. They would never say it to her face, of course, but many of them often wished she would just drop dead.

The sixty three year old, Margie, was reserved for the sick perverts who had old lady fetishes, and the older men who came seeking someone close to their own age. Margie was a skinny, wrinkled thing, with piercing, intelligent blue eyes and a shock of white permed hair. Being the oldest and having been there since before anyone could remember, Margie was the reigning Queen of the Whores, and very proud she was, too, of her position. She was pampered beyond the other whores, and even seemed to have some authority over Bazto, the bartender and owner of the whorehouse. Nothing, absolutely nothing, had ever happened without Margie knowing it…that was, until just now, of course.

"I said, what the fuck is going on?" repeated Margie, looking positively livid.

"We're going to be set free," Mya stated softly.

Immediately there was an outbreak of cries.

"What?"

"Girl, you must have been smoking some weed or something. Hit me up!"

"Stop kidding around and tell us what happened, already."

"Don't play like that, girl."

"Silence!" bellowed Marge over the hubbub, and immediately there was quiet once again, although this time the air was filled with uncertainty and hope. "Okay, Mya. I want to know the straight truth, you got that? Now, I ain't askin again. What's happened? Tell us everything you know."

And so Mya told them everything that had happened, leaving out, of course, the fact that the mysterious blonde man knew her name. After she finished there was another uncomfortable silence.

"Did he show you any ID? Any proof that he wasn't just screwing around with you?" Margie finally asked, a strange expression on her face that Mya couldn't quite decipher.

"No…but can't the people who were out there when the bang came and all the music stopped back me up?" Mya retorted, glancing around the room to locate the Acetti sisters, who had been scheduled for pole dancing that evening. Indeed, they were sitting almost naked, in only their thongs, and as they spoke, they picked up raggedy blankets, covered in stains, and draped them around their bony shoulders.

"We was just gettin' our thongs off—" began Alice, who was cut off by Alex as usual. They began talking back and forth as was their habit.

"—when all of a sudden, these wizards in black robes comes bustin' in—"

"—and everyone's a-screamin' 'cause they think that it's the police or summin'—"

"—and I think they was, but they called themselves the "Liberation Force", whatever that means—"

"—and Bazto shut off the music and was tryina sneak outta the back door, but he was stupefied, and then the wizards—"

"—told us to go back for a moment, and not to run off, because they was here to help," finished Alex, a satisfied look on her face.

"So I guess that that blondie Mya was talkin' bouts was tellin' the truth and we's actually gonna get outta this dump!" exclaimed Alice, a surprised, rather scared look on her face.

Mya smiled in relief. So the blonde man hadn't been lying! They were really, spectacularly, truthfully, wonderfully going to be free! They would never have to set foot in this horrible dingy prison again!

She looked around her, a wide smile on her face. The smile faded slightly, however, into a questioning frown, as she observed the expressions on everyone's face. A couple of people amongst the group, especially the newer, younger prostitutes, seemed to be just as excited as she had been to hear the news. Some looked rather as though they'd been bashed over the head, and they looked around confusedly, as though wondering whether this was all some bizarre dream. And everyone else seemed to be… angry.

Angry? How could that be possible?

Amongst the angry, Margie stood out the most. Her bony hands were clutched to form veiny fists, and her eyes were narrowed in a most feline way. Her mouth was a straight, disapproving line, and the force of her anger almost blew Mya away.

"This is an outrage!" Margie finally burst out. Everyone stopped talking at once.

"An outrage?" Mya asked incredulously.

"Yeah, an outrage! These men can't come bloody bustin' in here and set us free like we're some kind of dumb animals. Where we supposed to go? What the hell are we supposed to do? How are we's supposed to find food? Clothing? Shelter? I'm an old bitch now, and I ain't got a thang I can do in the world besides what I do here. I ain't go no home. No talent. And now they're tellin' me I got to leave? Now they're sendin' me off? To where? My death?" Margie cried, her voice growing louder and louder and her face becoming a disturbing shade of puce that Mya had never seen before, at least not on a human face.

"Death? Death? Dumb animals?" Mya responded in equal outrage. "The way that they been keepin' us here, caged up, beat, forced to screw them goddamned males, and starved is what I call being made a dumb animal! Food? A few crusts of bread and a piece of spoiled cheese and dirty water? Is that whatchu wanna live offa for the rest of your life? Well I sure as hell don't! That ain't food fit for humans! Yeah, that's right, we're human beings too! Just because they keep up here as their little sex toys doesn't make you or me any less of a human being! And clothing? You call these ridiculous little scraps of cloth clothing? I ain't been warm since I was twelve years old! Shelter? I would rather live in a cardboard box, on the streets, because at least then I would be free! Livin' here ain't livin'! I would rather die free than die here of old age or STD's.

"I want to stand in a meadow where I can't see a man or his fucking dick for as far as the eyes can see, where I can't see these goddamned brick walls. And I wanna sit in the sunlight and feel a real breeze on my skin, not some perverted prick's hot stinky breath. How long you otha bitches been in here? A hella lot longer than I been, some of you. Wouldn't you like the chance, the choice, the ability to say 'No, I don't wanna fuck you, you dumbass'? Because I do. And I'm gonna. And ain't no one gonna stop me from leavin' this fuckin' hell hole, because I'm better than this. Y'all are all better than this," Mya cried passionately, tears streaming down her face as emotions welled up inside her that she'd locked up for four long, hard years.

"I want the ability to say no. I want choice, and I want freedom. I want to belong to nobody but myself, and maybe God. And I know for a fact I wanna get outta this dump," Mya finally finished softly.

Mya slowly relaxed her hands, which she'd realized she'd balled into fists unconsciously during her outburst of anger. She wiped away the tears which had flown down her face, and looked down at her hands. They were dirty, black. Stained with the makeup that was supposed to make her alluring, seductive.

Mya cautiously looked up. The room was deadly silent.

And to her surprise—

They were in tears.

Each and every one of them. All enmity, jealousy, and spite seemed to have melted away, like the eye makeup that streamed down their faces.

They were all just girls. Women. Men. Broken and downtrodden and used for far too long. Not prostitutes, not sex toys. Humans.

Everyone was moved…

Even Margie, who spoke softly, wiping away her own tears.

"Girl, I ain't knowed nothin' but this place for far too long. You're a passionate one, alright, 'cause you've wakened the human in me that's been dead for fifty five long, hard years. You've wakened the human in me."

It was startlingly hard to say goodbye to the other prostitutes.

Although they had bickered, gossiped, backstabbed, yelled, hit, and stolen from one another, deep down, Mya knew that they had all forged a strong bond. How else could it be, after living with each other for so long, day and night? They had been forced to stay within the whorehouse every living moment of their lives, and even though they grew sick of each other at times, there had been nobody to lean on but each other.

Embracing, speaking soft words, they all said their farewells.

Some opted to have their memories erased. Completely. They wanted to start over again as new people.

Most of the prostitutes, and all the little children, had their memories of the time they had to spend at the whorehouse wiped clean, to prevent mental breakdowns.

Others wanted to keep their memories, as a tribute of all the suffering they had to endure.

They would be returned to their families, who had been notified of their return. Those without families would be sent to a special boarding house, where they would be able to recuperate, maybe get an education, learn how to do a job, and then be sent out into the world to do their best.

Everyone would also be checked for diseases and illnesses for no cost at all.

Mya stood in the back of the line of people being Flooed to their separate destinations.

She cast a long look behind her, at the whorehouse that had been her prison, home, and world for the past four years.

It was the same as ever, dirty, peeling, decrepit, and littered with all kinds of dirty things. But at the same time, it would be forever different. For one, the place was almost entirely empty, except for some more Liberation Force officials. Another thing was that never again would she be forced to stay here, kept caged in like an animal by enchantments and spells. The stage was still littered with clothes from just about everybody, Hermione included. The poles stood lonely and dull. The place was silent, although in the night the air had always been punctuated by erotic screams and pounding music. Prostitutes were forced to be creatures of the night. They slept during the day. Bazto wasn't at his usual place behind the bar, cheating people out of their money, ordering the whores around, and serving liquor to get rowdy men even more rowdy.

"Goodbye. I shan't miss you at all," Mya murmured softly.

"Good evening, Miss. And how would you like your memories?" asked a tall, severe looking blonde woman, sounding rather as though she were talking about eggs and not someone's personal experiences. Mya was half tempted to answer 'scrambled', but that might have sent the wrong message.

"I'd like to keep them," Mya said firmly. She had had her memory erased before, and as sad and horrible as the memories might be, she had no intention of erasing them again.

"You're one of the few," answered the official with a bored expression on her face. "Alright, Miss…err, sorry I didn't catch your name."

"It's Mya…I mean, Hermione Granger. And I didn't give it," Mya answered, distaste firmly stamped across her face.

"Okay. G-R-A-N-G-E-R, I suppose…yes…I see you here…" the blonde woman said. She had typed Mya's name into a little hand held electronic device, which seemed to be scrolling through a list of addresses to find Mya's parental status.

The blonde woman frowned.

"Is there a problem?" Mya finally asked, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Yes. I'm sorry. Your parents are both dead. They were killed by Death Eaters, three years ago."

The strength suddenly drained completely out of Mya, as if someone had pulled a stopper. Her parents… dead?

During the harder times in her stay at the whorehouse, she'd always wondered, and secretly hoped, that her parents would some day come barging in and whisk her away to safety. They had never come, of course, but it was a sustaining thought. She knew that they were both muggles, and hated as they might have been in Bazto's whorehouse, she had loved them dearly. After all, she had only had six years of her memory erased, and she still had all her childhood memories.

"Dead? Really…truthfully…dead?" Mya whispered, too shocked to even shed tears.

"Yes. Dead. I'm sorry. It happened a lot. It was a time of war. So now, you can go to the boarding house, after a quick checkup," stated the blonde woman in a manner-of-fact voice, not looking in the least sorry. This woman had been in the Great War, and was no stranger with death. But Mya was too devastated to care.

"I…"

"Hermione!"

Mya turned around, and actually felt relieved to see Draco running towards her.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, but some of the men put up quite a big fight, saying that they didn't know that being in such a place was illegal and whatnot, so…are you okay?" Draco asked, his face suddenly changing from an apologetic one to a very worried one as he noticed her expression.

"My…my parents…" Mya stuttered, unable to complete the sentence.

"Her parents were both killed by Death Eaters," the blonde woman said in a manner-of-fact voice. "Now, let this young lady go to the boarding house, Draco, so we can all go get some sleep."

Draco frowned at the blonde woman in a rather threatening sort of way.

"Hermione's the last of them, right? Then you can call the announcement that everyone can go home. It would be the greatest favor, Hermione, if you would come with me. I think I have a lot to explain to you," Draco said gently, begging Mya with his eyes to oblige. Mya got the feeling that even if she'd refused, he would have swept her away anyways.

"I promise, I won't do anything to hurt you. No one is ever going to hurt you again," he said softly, gently.

After so many years of harsh words and harsh behavior, this sudden gentleness was almost more than Mya could bear. She could do no more than Mya nod, hardly knowing what she was doing. She barely even knew this man! How could she trust her life to him and not know that he was some sick psycho? Much too tired and emotionally worn out to care any more than that, however, she silently followed the elated looking Mr. Malfoy out through the bar doors into the night. Into freedom.

Mya took a deep, deep breath. There would be time to sort out her thoughts about her parents later. But now, this was a moment that she would treasure for a long time: her first step into freedom.

Myalooked up, and saw that despite the foggy skies of the city, she could still see one star.And even though the air was a bit smoggy with pollution, it was free air, free of the smells of human bodies and all they excreted, free from enslavement. The street on which the whorehouse had been located was, as to be expected, rather grimy, dim,and full of decay, but to Mya, it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

For the first time in four years, she stood outside, and the wind danced with her long, straight hair (which was really rather dirty).

Freedom.

Draco was leading Mya to his fancy black car, when all of a sudden, Mya had an afterthought, and turned around to face the building, Bazto's Bar.

With much gusto, she spat on those dirty, crumbling bricks.

Never again would they stand between her and her freedom.

Following a Draco who was, unbeknownst to Mya, trying very hard to hide his smile, she stepped into the black car, ready to lay in the past all the events of Bazto's Bar, ready to move on with her life, ready to taste freedom, and ready to find out just who this Draco Malfoy was in relation to her.

How'd you like it? This chapter was to get to know Hermione/Mya a bit better, and to see what life was like for her.
Starting next chapter, I think I'm going to turn up the grill and get some more Draco/Hermione sizzzle. ;D
Reviews & constructive criticism are always loved on my part.
Thanks for reading!