A/N: Hi, new readers! I'm Bremusa, and I have a huge love for Harry Potter and the darker side of the world. I plan on updating this as frequently as I can, but I'm very busy with work and school so I can't promise weekly updates. I will do what I can!

WARNINGS: Language, graphic violence: physical and sexual, rape threats. This fic will contain consensual sex, manipulated/dubious consent sex (which I see as rape, I don't like people that brush over this, sex that is not 100% consensual is rape), and non-consensual sex, in varying degrees of detail. I will always include a warning for chapters with graphic sexual encounters, and extra warnings for potentially triggering content such as non-consensual sex. There will also be torture, again in varying degrees of detail, and physical, emotional, and mental abuse. This fic takes place during a war, and I want to display the nasty, gritty side of war that we don't often see.

CHRYSALIS

CH. 1

••

Your life can change drastically in a moment. Everyone knows it, but no one thinks it will ever happen to them. We live like we're invincible, without a clue of how fragile we actually are.

We don't expect that car running the red light, heading straight for us. We don't expect the back door creaking open in the middle of the night, a masked man entering with a gun or wand or knife.

"It will never be me," we tell ourselves.

Until it is.

And then it's too late to ever, ever go back.

••

There's a curious surreality about being on the run. There is absolutely nothing that will prepare you for it if you weren't raised to be constantly looking over your shoulder, or didn't have enough to eat. I grew up in a loving, fairly affluent family, where there was always food on the table and clothes on my back. I had a mother and father to dote on me and tuck me in at night. And then came Hogwarts, a gift I never expected, like one million desperate wishes coming true at once. Learning that I was a witch was the most amazing moment of my life.

I'd always thought I was a freak, and I didn't have many friends until Hogwarts. I scared the neighborhood children with my moments of ignorant, uncontrolled magic; turning Billy Turpin's eyebrows purple after he shoved me off the playground slide when I was six; leaping across front yards during desperate games of tag, coming four or five feet off the ground. I was that weird little Granger girl, who strange things happened to and who talked like a grown-up in a ten year old's body.

But then, Voilà! My letter came, and my life became magical in every meaning of the word. For six years, I was more or less happy, more or less safe.

Until Draco Malfoy brought Death Eaters into the school and Severus Snape killed the one man Voldemort feared. Now none of us are safe.

Being on the run, you start to lose yourself. Your old daily rituals are either extraneous or impossible to carry out. All of your belongings that aren't deemed a strict necessity become junk. Food is scarce, sleep is uneasy, and you are always cold. There isn't a Warming charm in the world strong enough to keep your bones from shaking. You become a ghost, both to yourself and in the eyes of your companions.

Harry and Ron were here too. Of course. Ron and I would never leave Harry, and he was given a mission by Dumbledore to destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes so that he could finish him off, once and for all. And I didn't regret coming- I just felt lost in this new life. There was no comfort. Harry was too focused, too wrapped up in his own shit. I wasn't complaining, because if anyone had issues to deal with, it was that boy. Ron on the other hand, who grew surlier each day, was too focused on himself to care about what the rest of us were doing. I loved him dearly, but his selfishness was grating on me. We were all suffering.

So I think it was understandable that I kept one unnecessary item from home, if only to hold onto my sanity. I grabbed my beaded bag from my bunk and walked into the kitchen space of our tent. Harry was sitting at the table, flipping through his old scrapbook of his parents that Hagrid gave him. My throat tightened, and as I walked by I squeezed his shoulder. His eyes flickered up to mine heavily.

"Are you trading off with Ron?" He asked.

"Yes, I think he's been out there long enough," I said. "He should come in and rest. His arm still needs to heal."

I headed outside, ducking under the tent flap and shivering in the frosty forest air. My breath puffed out white around me, and I drew my cloak tighter around my body.

Ron was sitting against a tree trunk about ten feet away, and he didn't turn towards me as I walked his way, my shoes crunching dead leaves underfoot.

"Hey. Ready to rotate?" I asked in a low whisper. My voice still seemed as loud as a scream in the silent forest. It cut through the bare trees.

"Yes, I s'pose," he murmured back, still not looking at me. He was paler than usual, his vibrant red hair shaggy and starting to graze his shoulders. He was wearing the locket around his neck, its silver chain glinting coldly in the wand-light. I absentmindedly reached out and touched where it met the back of his neck and he jumped, grabbing my wrist and finally meeting my eyes. His were marked with purple crescents of fatigue, and another pang of sadness struck me.

"Ron, why don't you take the necklace off?" I ask gently, crouching next to him. He was still holding my wrist, his gaze empty and intense. Slowly, he raised his other hand towards my face. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I closed my eyes as he brushed a finger lightly across my cheek. When I opened them again, he was lifting the necklace from his neck and, turning my hand face up, let it pool in my palm. Without a word he let go and rose to head back into the tent.

I shifted over to where he was sitting, chilled to the bone by his strange touch. Although Ron may have been be grumpier than usual, he was still Ron. But just then? His eyes had been completely devoid of any warmth or feeling at all. He grazed my face without any tenderness or familiarity.

Glancing down at the Horcrux in my hand, I decided that we all needed a break from wearing it, and dropped it into my bag. As I did, my fingers bump into the whole reason I came out to trade shifts in the first place. I pulled the object from where it was securely nestled in the depths of the bag and toyed with it. Smooth glass, half-filled with transparent green liquid, complete with an antique gold atomizer. My mother's perfume. There was not a day in my life when I saw her fail to wear it. I sprayed a light mist in the air, and tears rushed to my eyes as the familiar scent surrounded me. Sweet to the point of spiciness, the fragrance brought me back home to where I'd perch on my mother's bathroom counter as a girl and watch her put on makeup for date night with my father. A touch of blush, a few sweeps of mascara, and then finally a spritz of perfume on her wrists and neck.

"This is the secret," she'd grin at me, half-joking, half-not. "This is how you wrap men around your little finger. It's as simple as having an unforgettable scent."

I suppose there could be some truth to it. Like pheromones, perfume could be the mark of an individual and invoke desire in those who associated the two. But out here in the wilderness, I wasn't exactly striving to draw anyone in. With a wry grin, I sprayed the perfume around me a few more times and closed my eyes, allowing myself to indulge in a moment of homesickness. I usually tried not to think about how much I missed my old life.

I was so caught up in thoughts of my parents and the sweet, innocent years at Hogwarts that the sound of leaves crunching and twigs snapping didn't immediately register to me. I assumed it was Harry or Ron coming from the tent, and as I opened my eyes to greet them I was unable to hold back a ragged gasp of horror.

Five Snatchers stood in the woods before me, just feet beyond the slightly wavering barrier of our enchantments. At my gasp, the leader's head snapped in my direction, and he took in a slow, deliberate breath.

"I know you're hidin'," he said. His voice was raspy with a sharpness like rusted nails. He took a step forward on filthy, patched-up boots. Crunch.

"I can smell you." Crunch.

He inhaled again.

"You smell like a Mudblood cunt." Snap.

"Sugary." Crunch.

"Sharp." Another step. He was inches away from the barrier.

"I can smell your fear, Mudblood. And oh, ain' you right to be afraid of what we have in store for you? All you fools that thought you could escape us."

The white cloud of his breath fanned out against the barrier, and he grinned. I clenched my wand in my hand and, as quietly as I could, set the beaded bag behind the tree and cast a silent Concealment charm over it. If he penetrated the barrier, I wouldn't let him take the Horcrux.

"Come out, come out, little Mudblood," the Snatcher crooned, raising his wand to the barrier.

I had seconds. My mind raced through all my options, but it came down to protecting Ron and Harry. I couldn't let them find Harry.

Screwing up my courage, I organized a message in my mind and cast a silent Patronus towards the door of the tent. I watched my otter swim away through the air, and felt my last bit of hope die with it. When it reached the door, I held up my hand for it to wait. I turned back towards the Snatcher, who was just opening his mouth to curse the barrier apart.

"Stop," I said in a commanding voice. I would not show them I was afraid. I would not let them win.

He paused, a sinister grin spreading over his face.

"If I come quietly, will you swear not to harm me?" I asked, rolling my neck to the side to crack it. I had no intention of coming quietly, but asking would give me the element of surprise.

"Well now, we'll be perfect gentlemen. Won't we, lads?" The Snatcher asked his companions. They nodded, laughing wolfishly. "Just come on through the enchantment, love, and we'll get this mess sorted righ' out."

Liar.

I took a deep breath, cast a final look at my my otter, hovering near the door of the tent. I nodded at it and, after it entered, performed a tricky locking charm that wouldn't let Harry or Ron out until I had magically unbarred the entrance or walked outside a fifty foot radius of the tent. Then I squared my shoulders and stepped through the barrier.

I was face to face with the lead Snatcher, and his yellow grin grew in recognition.

"Well, well. If it ain' the queen of Mudbloods herself. You got a lot of people out lookin' for you, love. Apparently you're a hard one to catch."

I gave him a glittering smile.

"Well, I would hate to disappoint."

Before he had a chance to block, I hit him hard in the face and pointed my wand towards his companions.

"Bombarda!"

Three were thrown back by the small explosion, and gore splattered the dead vegetation. One of the Snatchers had caught the full blast of the spell, and his torso separated from his legs. I blanched- I'd never caused anyone mortal damage before- but I was doing this to protect the one chance this world had of defeating Voldemort.

"Scabior, do something!" One of the Snatchers cried, and the leader shook his head and wiped his now-bloody nose, bringing up his wand.

"You little bitch-" he snarled, moving to curse me, but I ducked and sent a vicious Cutting hex his way. It ripped open the corner of his mouth and stretched up to his temple, and his teeth were visible through the thick flaps of skin, black with blood. He howled, abandoning his pursuit of me to hurriedly heal the wound.

The remaining Snatchers were moving in on me now, their wands forgotten as the burliest one tried to tackle me. I threw up a shield and he broke his nose on it, went cross-eyed, and promptly passed out. The others were not deterred, however. They circled me and I paced with them, strategizing my next move. Just as they rushed me, I spun in a swift circle, blazing cursed fire from my wand as I did. The Snatchers ran straight into it and completely lost their minds, stumbling away screaming through the flame. It was hard to magically extinguish fire when your wooden wand is the first thing to burn. I watched them run through the trees, their howls turning inhuman, until they toppled over and were silent. The fire around me ebbed, the forest floor charred and smoking.

Gasping for breath, I whipped around, looking for Scabior. Panic was mounting inside me as I started to realize the enormity of my actions. I had killed three men, and had no intention of slowing down yet. Gripping my wand, I steeled myself just as I heard running footsteps behind me. I turned, wand up, and there was Scabior, sprinting at me full-speed. My fear overwhelmed me when I saw the barbaric fury on his face. His cut was closed, but clearly marked with a raised purple scar that I doubted would fully heal.

In my terror, I faltered for a moment too long. Hurrying backwards, I tripped over the body of the unconscious Snatcher and Scabior took the opportunity to lunge at me. He grabbed he around the waist and, using my off-kilter balance in his advantage, slammed me against the hard ground. He landed on top of me and knocked the wind out of me. I didn't have a chance to recover as he hit me once, twice, three times across the face. I couldn't help but cry out.

"You little fuckin' Muggle cunt," Scabior growled, fighting to get a grip on my wrists. He tore my wand from my hand and threw it into the trees, and my throat grew tight. I knew I wouldn't be able to escape. He pointed his wand at my wrists and coarse rope shot from the end, twining around them so tightly it cut off my circulation. I was kicking at him, hoping to land one in his soft spot, but he forced himself between my legs and wrestled them flat.

His face, grimy and stubbly and covered in drying blood, was far too close to mine, and I was vividly aware of my vulnerability and the complete absence of space between our bodies. That seemed to be his point, as he pressed himself closer to me and suddenly buried his face in the side of my neck, inhaling deeply. My mind went blank with panic. This was not part of the plan.

Scabior drew back, his eyes full of hatred and triumph.

"I told you to be scared, didn' I? I told you to fear what we'd do to you. Well, Mudblood," he growled, punctuating the word with a quick thrust of his hips. "This is it."

"You get the fuck off me," I whispered. I'd meant to shout, but my throat was dry with fear. I expected the Cruciatus, I expected death. But not this. Why would supporters of Voldemort 'lower' themselves to fucking Muggleborns?

Scabior just gave a cruel chuckle and lowered his face back to my neck. I shuddered in disgust as he licked the side of it, his hot, putrid breath spreading out over my face, and I hated him like I'd never hated anyone in that moment.

I screamed in pain as he latched his teeth onto my pulse point and bit down, hard enough to draw blood.

He pulled back and grinned at me, my blood smeared across his mouth like macabre lipstick. "This is just the beginning, love. You don't got a fuckin' clue the shit that's comin' for you. Get used to this. It's gonna be your life."

With that, he yanked me to my feet and magicked more rope around my body until I was completely unable to move. As he grabbed the back of my neck and the arm of the unconscious Snatcher and Apparated us away, I could hear the faint shouts of Harry and Ron, still locked inside our cozy little home.

Tears were brimming in my eyes, but I hardened my heart. I did this for them. Whatever pain would come, I would not break.

Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up soon, I won't leave you hanging here for too long. Please drop me a review, let me know what you think!

x,

Bremusa