Tags on AO3:

Kidnapping, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape, Torture, Threats of Violence, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Dove Is Very Dead, bound and fucked, Revealing Outfit, Thoughts of death, Irréversible-like scene, Wandless Magic, Cruciatus Curse, Hair-pulling, Public Humiliation

CHAPTER 1 - The Dark Lord Wants Answers

Crookshanks turned his massive, fluffed belly to the ceiling, the feline in desperate search of a breeze. The mid-July night was particularly hot. Most of the windows around the Grangers' house were open, and yet the curtains remained unnervingly still. Silence reigned, only disturbed now and then by the ruffling of bed sheets or the buzzing sound of a rogue mosquito. It was a perfectly quiet

house, in a perfectly quiet neighbourhood.

It was in equally perfect silence that the front door was unlocked and opened. Two cloaked figures stepped in, wands drawn. The Hominum Revelio had confirmed the house's occupant was in bed, based on the lack of movement of the revealed silhouette - but it didn't mean they were asleep. The two wizards quietly closed the front door and made their way up the stairs, towards the bedroom. The smallest of sounds risked waking up their target.

Hermione had been in and out of sleep for the past five minutes, her mind not awake enough to open her eyes, yet too much for falling back asleep. Summer nights were awful. Her cooling charms helped her fall asleep, but she kept waking up in the middle of the night as the cooling waves were wearing off. And there she found herself, too tired to grab her wand and cast a new one, yet ranting in her mind about the hot air on her skin.

The sheets had been pushed to the edge of the bed- one could not sleep with covers by that heat. However, she didn't like to sleep naked, never had. Therefore, she endured the cover of simple blue cotton shorts and a tank top, the fabric just light enough you would forget it was there. A faint scratching sound- Crookshanks, most likely. Hermione stretched her legs, wondering if she was too lazy to cast a new cooling charm.

'Be quiet.'

As a male voice spoke, a huge hand was suddenly pressed against her mouth. The witch's eyes shot open, mind instantly awake. The room was pitch black, she couldn't discern her attacker, only a silhouette and the brushing of robes against her leg. But she recognised the smell. Her eyes jumped to her nightstand, although it didn't surprise her to find it devoid of her wand.

'Don't try anything stupid, Mudblood,' Greyback growled as he grabbed her bicep and pulled her onto her feet.

The hand on her mouth turned her words into grunts as she struggled. Hermione's mind was racing. She'd never thought Death Eaters would invade her house- how did they get through her wards? She needed to warn the Order, maybe they would try to attack other members. What did they even want from her? She tried to resist as Greyback pulled her with him to the centre of the room, but he countered her efforts by encasing her smaller form in his arms, locking her in place.

'So it does fight,' another male voice spoke next to her.

Before she could look in its direction, the ceiling light was switched on, forcing her to shut her eyes. That voice, she didn't recognise. Greyback's arm around her waist pulled her closer to his chest - how she wished he could take his hand from her mouth. He stank.

'You 'ave her wand?'

While the Death Eaters talked, the Gryffindor's mind was still racing. Without her wand, she didn't have many escape options. She had none, really. The stinging sensation in her eyes had subsided- she risked one eye open. In front of her stood Dolohov. Of course, of all the wizards in Voldemort's ranks, it had to be him, who cursed her in the Department of Mysteries. The scar on her chest started tingling as the memory resurfaced.

'Granger, is it?'

Hermione turned her attention to Dolohov as he said her name. Undoubtedly, he was delighted with the situation, if the wide grin on his face was any indication. As he shot a glance to Greyback, the hand over the Gryffindor's mouth was removed.

'What do you want?' The witch hissed, attempting to hide the notes of fear in her voice.

The werewolf's grip tightened ever so slightly, the paw on her hip nicking the skin. Of course, she could imagine what they were here for. Harry. While the intruders seemed to exchange knowing looks, the young witch suddenly felt a shiver run down her spine. It was as if she'd been looking at the scene from above this whole time, and she was finally falling back into her body. The rapid beating of her heart was pounding in her ears. The only comforting thought was that her parents were out of harm's way, currently on holiday in Brighton.

'The Dark Lord wants answers,' Dolohov turned to the room as he spoke, looking around, 'and he knows you have them.'

'I'll never talk,' Hermione hoped she sounded confident despite her panicked breathing.

Dolohov snorted and turned to her, lazily sitting at the desk as he started going through the documents scattered there. He was looking for something- but what? Fortunately, he wouldn't find anything relevant in the pile of old essays Hermione had dumped there when emptying her school trunk.

'He doesn't need you to talk.'

The Death Eater nonchalantly pushed a dozen parchments on the ground. He turned back towards the young witch. As hot as the room had been mere minutes prior, the air was now freezing as it touched Hermione's skin, her limbs shivering in fear as Dolohov walked to her. His eyes - his cold, grey eyes - were gliding up and down her body. Filled with lust.

'He'll dig inside your mind,' the wizard stood barely a foot away from her, his breath tickling her cheek, 'he'll search until he gets what he wants. You'll be lucky if you still remember your name by then.'

The Gryffindor swallowed the lump stuck in her throat. The tension in his lustful gaze was burning- she averted hers and decided to focus on the fibres of the carpet to her right. If he could just take a step back! Behind her, Greyback growled. She'd almost forgotten him until she felt his paw travel upwards from her waist to her chest, coming to rest atop a clothed breast. No, not that.

'Get off-' Hermione attempted, her voice weakened by panic.

'And if you don't cooperate, he might need to employ- other techniques,' Dolohov purred, seemingly relishing in her dismay. 'Maybe he'll even let Greyback have a go. D'you reckon he could make you talk?'

She was hyperventilating. Why- why her? And why hadn't she accepted Ron's offer to come to the Burrow the week prior? As the Gryffindor attempted to calm her racing heart and disconnect her mind from the situation, she felt the wizard's clammy hand settle on her thigh and inch higher and higher.

'No!' Her instinctive reaction was to kick Dolohov, but the latter only laughed as he deflected her pathetic attempt.

'Well, the kitten has claws!'

'Good,' Greyback growled in her ears, his rancid breath licking at her neck, 'I like 'em feisty.'

The werewolf buried his face in the witch's hair and her breath hitched as she felt his nose run down her neck- sniffing. She was about to vomit. Dolohov's hand settled atop her groin, his fingertips sending small electric shocks through the thin cotton of her shorts.

'Tut-tut,' the wizard shook his head disapprovingly as his free hand came up to brush Hermione's cheek, 'what a naughty, naughty witch- not wearing knickers.'

Two things happened simultaneously. First, Dolohov gripped the fabric covering her nether lips and slightly pulled it aside, his nails grazing over her sensitive skin. Second, the werewolf's grip on her waist strengthened, leaving angry, red scratches on her stomach. Both drew a sharp gasp from the young witch. It was, however, not loud enough to cover Greyback's words.

'Aaah, I can smell her.'

It could have been only one of those things- or it may have been all of them at once- that triggered Hermione's defence system. Adrenaline rushed through her veins.

'Let me go!'

Taking both wizards by surprise, the Gryffindor kicked and elbowed whatever she could reach. Panic drove her punches. It was as if the situation had suddenly become very real- as if the danger was only now truly perceived.

'LET ME GO!'

'Shut up.'

A hand slapped her across the face, the blow strong enough to make her vision blurry. She kept struggling, yelling.

'LET ME-mmmhh!'

A huge, dirty hand covered her mouth, quieting her curses. But she kept struggling. Greyback's grip on her waist was so strong she'd be bleeding when he'd let go. Or if he let her go? Was this their plan- to kidnap and- and- Hermione shook her head, she couldn't say the word, she couldn't even imagine- STOP! Her brain had to stop going there because she was of those people who couldn't help but visualise things they heard or thought of.

'I like your fighting,' Dolohov purred 'but the Dark Lord will want to speak to you first.'

Relief momentarily dripped down her shoulders, before she wondered if she actually wouldn't rather stay here with them. Before Hermione could give it a second thought, her feet left the ground as Greyback disapparated with her.