Hermione was terrified. Ever since that day by the Potions room when Harry had called her a Mudblood the Slytherins had been treating her as their toy, whether that was sneering at her, tripping her up or throwing curses at her back when she walked by. Harry had never done more than stare at her but somehow that was by far the worst, with his new stone-cold black eyes. He could hold her gaze for a good ten minutes and she could never summon up the strength to look away.

Her new-found attention was driving Ron around the twist. Somehow he'd got the idea that every boy who fucked with her was just one of the many that she was apparently sleeping with behind his back.

'Stay away from Finnigan!'

'Seamus is my friend, Ron and you know it!'

'Shut up you lying bitch!'

'Ron please, I love you –'

'Don't touch me!'

'Ron –'

'Crucio!'

Yeah, that was another thing. The Cruciatus (and Imperius) Curse had become a daily routine for Ron to establish power over his girl. The only irony was that, with or without them, Hermione would do whatever he wanted. She loved him so much – and she had lost him once. She was never going to let that happen again. So she screamed when he tortured her and floated when he hypnotized her, even though had she wanted to she had more than the strength to fight the latter away. Actually, the sensation of it was quite pleasurable. She had begun to look forward to that particular spell being practised on her and often he'd make her beg for it. They'd meet in the library after hours and she'd do what he told her until they were both exhausted and aching, and then if she'd done it right he'd wave his wand and make her do more.

Hermione knew this was killing her. Doped up on illegal enchantments, exhausted from her nightly excursions, she was failing all her subjects. Her friends would take her aside regularly and try to get her to talk – but the advantage of Crucification was that it didn't leave scars, and even if it had, she would never tell.

She kind of understood Ron's paranoia about Seamus in particular. She had been treating him with kid gloves as he sent hourly owls to Dean, checking up on him and pleading with him to join them at Uni. And he had trusted only her enough to finally tell her that he was in love with his best friend. So even though that was a perfect alibi for the time she spent with him, she would never betray him like that.

But it was getting increasingly harder to hide her plight – hardest of all to hide it from her psychic (and semi-psychotic) friend Luna.

'You seem very distracted, Hermione. Are you late for something?'

It had become second-nature for Hermione to look behind her for Ron every five seconds. All too often he'd sneak up behind her and tug her hair back so sharply that her neck almost snapped in two. Luna tried to follow her gaze every time it moved but unlike most people it didn't seem to irritate her. In her quiet way, she was only curious.

'No, sorry Luna, you were saying?'

'I was just telling you about this guy called God. Apparently he's very popular among the Muggles. He lives in the sky, see, and…'

Hermione tuned out. Luna was always talking about some non-existent oddity or other.

Unfortunately Luna was very good at picking up on when people weren't listening. 'Are you OK Hermione? I notice Ron's giving out very negative vibes recently, I don't suppose you can feel them too?'

Hermione nearly laughed. Forget negative vibes; it was Unforgiveable Curses Ron was repeatedly sending her way. 'Kind of. It's OK though, I can handle him.'

Luna gave her a quizzical look. 'You shouldn't lie you know, Hermione, it makes my head swim.'

'Sorry. Wait, what?'

But Luna had already nodded her head like all her suspicions had been confirmed, and disappeared.

Hermione wished she could disappear. Because Harry Potter and his sycophantic posse of Syltherins (the ones who had recently decided that she was their personal property) were heading her way.

'Yo, Granger!' one called, holding out his hand as if for a high five. She gave him the stoniest glare she could muster and returned to her food.

'Hey, Mudblood.' A heavy hand clapped her on the shoulder. 'I said hi.'

Just ignore them, Hermione, don't react.

'Leave her alone guys,' Harry's clear voice carried above the rest. 'She's not worth it.'

'Come on dude, you must have thought she was pretty, you're the one who fucked her.'

Hermione stood up so suddenly that she sent her plate flying. 'Leave me –'

A skinny, hunched shape suddenly stood in front of her. Neville Longbottom, former class clown and current headcase of Gryffindor was squaring up to Harry Potter. 'I think you should leave.'

Harry took a step forward, closing the distance. 'Watch it, Longbottom. I could fuck you up like your parents.'

Neville was so shocked he took a step back. But that didn't last long. In the next instant he was back, and blazing. 'You wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for me, Potter. And you might want to remind those Slytherins that you killed Voldermort and put most of their Dads in jail.'

One of the Slytherins behind Harry grinned. 'Actually, my Dad's broken out. He sent me an owl and he thinks that there's a possibility that the Dark Lord might still be alive.'

Harry blanched so suddenly Hermione leant forward, thinking he was going to faint. But he shook himself out of it immediately, walking away without another word.

Hermione thanked Neville and hugged him hard, before Luna appeared out of thin air to usher her boyfriend away. 'You sure you're OK, Hermione? You seem very tired.'

'I'm OK.'

The Slytherin who had held up his hand suddenly had Hermione by the shoulder. 'I'll see you again soon, pretty Gryffindor.'

Luna watched as he left with his mates. 'Aren't you going to hex him, Hermione? Didn't we learn that kneecap-popping one a while ago?'

Hermione sighed. And, like Harry, she walked away.