The war was over and with it brought an unexpected outcome. Voldemort had won. Muggles and mudbloods alike were enslaved, while the traitors were sent to rot in prison. Hermione managed to find a new home, a new life, and a new appearance. She even managed to find a potion to fool the blood tests. Then her nightmares came true. "When I catch her, I'll bloody kill her." She was taken.

-Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light

Chapter 1: Taken

It had been nearly three years since the Dark Lord had won. Three years of terror and havoc reeked throughout not only England, but stretched far beyond Europe itself. This war had affected the entire world. Lives were destroyed. Families extinct from the face of the earth. The most unimaginable terror had been brought upon the world all by the hands of one person. One person had destroyed life as it were known to be.

The Dark Lord had enforced many laws, carried out by Deatheaters whose numbers continue to grow daily. Muggles were slaves. Mudbloods were no longer allowed to practice magic, but live as muggles, slaves to the aristocracy of the new world. Half breeds weren't treated much better. While they were allowed to practice magic and have some freedoms, it was hard for them to live and support their family. Traitors, or the pureblooded families who defied the Dark Lord, were imprisoned to rot in cells until they confessed their sins against the Dark Lord.

Nothing was cheerful anymore. The grass didn't glow green and brightly during spring. It was rare to find a flower. Shrubs and trees were overgrown and lifeless in the dull breeze. And the sun never seemed to shine anymore as it used to.

Devastation seemed to be an understatement when it came to the new world. Nothing was the same without Harry Potter. His name was not to be uttered. It was taboo. No one actually saw the fight between the boy-who-lived and he-who-must-not-be-named. But the outcome needn't explaining.

It was a by miraculous circumstances Hermione Granger still lived. As it was also a miracle she had yet to be caught and enslaved by the Deatheaters. Her head had the highest bounty. But being the witty witch that she was, she had outsmarted everyone. But for what?

That was always the first question when she woke up. To what point was she taking all of the effort to deceive the Deatheaters? Would death not me the better option? But she could never find the will to end her own life, nor give up on keeping herself exposed. All the time waiting for some way to take back what Voldemort had so unmercilessly snatched away from the world.

Freedom.

Which Is why she found herself waking up every morning in the halfbreed slums with her family, or at least that's what they called themselves.

She was fortunate to meet such a nice family to take her in. These days most families could hardly afford to support themselves, let alone take in a stranger. She found them in Italy, in a small city called Galdo. They spoke heavy Italian, naturally and Hermione was glad she had take Italian over one summer to at least partially comprehend what she was saying.

Hermione had been with the family for the last year and half and had now grown quite attached to them and they considered her family.

The young woman sleepily rubbed her eyes as she walked to the sink to splash some water in her eyes to wake her up. After she did so she stared in the mirror, still not used to her new image. It was a strange thing to look in the mirror and not recognize yourself, even after all this time. Her eyes were no longer the light brown they used to be but a dark, nearly black brown. Her hair, which now stretched down to her waist, was even darker with only a slight wave to it. Her skin was much tanner, especially from working out in the fields over the summer. She was slightly taller than her real self her jaw line more narrow. All in all, she looked like a full blooded Italian. The charm was perfect. As it would be, being that she was Hermione Granger. Her potions for fooling the blood test also worked perfectly, but this wasn't because she felt the need to be perfect like she did in school. It was because her life depended on it. She had to pass every inspection to have a life without being enslaved or locked up and tortured.

"Good morning Velia, how did you sleep?" An older lady spoke in Italian popping her head in the bathroom where Hermione was looking into the mirror. She hadn't told anyone her real identity. Not only did she fear about her secret getting out if she did, but she also didn't want to put that kind of weight on anyone else's shoulders. She had chosen the name Velia for its meaning. It meant concealed, and she was. Hermione had been using a concealment charm for the better part of three years, ever since the Dark Lord took over. She had almost forgotten what she truly looked like.

"Good morning Francesca, I slept well, and you?" Hermione's Italian had been perfected over the time she had spent with her new family.

"Wonderful. Breakfast is ready. Matteo will be ready to harvest the tomatoes when you're done. Be sure to put only the best tomatoes in the Dark Lord's baskets. We don't want trouble like the poor folks across the street."

"Of course, Francesca! I wouldn't want to bring any bad news our way."

Velia changed into her work clothes before going downstairs to breakfast. They live in a small two-story farmhouse. They had quite the garden of fruits and vegetables to live off the land and every Tuesday Deatheaters would come for taxes, or in their case, a share of the crops. If the crops weren't to their standards they would be punished, or worse, taken.

As Velia made her way to the breakfast table she greeted the rest of her new family, Matteo, the dad, her two little brothers, David and Marco, and sister, Sofia, all three between the ages of 12 and 17, and her older brother, Antonio, who was just two years above her at 22. After breakfast the whole family made their way out to their crops to harvest them and put them in baskets for the Deatheaters. They had tomatoes, squash, broccoli, watermelon, and okra all ready to harvest to send to the Dark Lord.

Around midday, they were already done harvesting, as the Deatheaters would arrive at any minute. The youngest, Sofia, always became shifty about the time this were to happen. Velia would always put her arm around her, comforting her by telling her everything would be fine.

In the last year and a half Hermione had seen many families taken away because of a bad harvest. It was always devastating to the small village. When one family was taken, however, a new one always moved in with hopes of starting a new quiet life.

But nothing was quiet about this new world. Deatheaters often terrorized one village or another in drunken boredom. People would be raped and murdered as they pleased. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. Or if they did, the punishment would be worst than the raid and could also involve the rest of the family.

Hermione ran to her room and quickly double checked her appearance charm and chugged down her blood potion, just to be safe. The Deatheaters randomly checked blood to make sure no muggles nor mudbloods were hiding amongst halfbreed families.

Just as Velia returned outside to the meeting point loud cracks were heard as Deatheaters apparated into view. Matteo walked up to his baskets showing them all that he offered, guarding his family as much as possible.

"Good afternoon." He bowed politely. "We have gathered our finest crops for the Dark Lord, hoping these fine fruits and vegetables will please him."

The lead Deatheather looked down at the crops and waved to the others to take it. They retrieved their wands and with a flick it all disappeared.

"You have done well. The Dark Lord will be pleased with your loyalty. You have, in the past three years, never failed to exceed his expectations."

"This pleases my family to hear the Dark Lord is pleased with our crops."

"Yes, I'm sure it does. However, times are changing and the Dark Lord requests your eldest to come with us."

"But why? Is our food no longer good enough?"

"Do you question the Dark Lord's commands?"

"Of course not I-"

"Crucio!"

A loud piercing scream rang throughout their small farmhouse. Velia held on to the three youngest as hard as she could while they struggle to help their dad as he screamed in agony. Antonio held on to his mother covering her protesting mouth.

The deatheater finally let off the curse.

"Need I ask again?"

"No." Antonio stepped out and helped his father up. "I am the eldest. I will go."

"Antonio! No!" The mother screamed and ran to him stopping him with crushing arms. "I will not lose you."

"You have to let me go mother. I won't let the rest of the family suffer because of me." Tears poured down both of their eyes as Antonio walked to his death.

Hermione watched as in slow motion as the deatheaters walked towards him, wizard cuffs in hand. She somehow felt responsible for the family and knew that she couldn't let this happen. In an instance she knew what she must do. So she stepped off from the porch and marched down to her destiny, her Gryffindor bravery leading the way.

"Wait!" Velia shouted. "Wait! He's lying! He's not- he's not the oldest. I am."

"Velia don't be an idiot!" Antonio yelled. "Go back to the porch!"

"No! I won't let you do this!" She finally reached him and whispered in his ear. "You're family has done too much for me. It's the least I can do. I love you all. I'll miss you."

The lead deatheater, getting impatient flicked his wand and the cuffs flew to her wrists sucking all the magic out of her and into the cuffs. Tears ran down her eyes as she said a last goodbye to her family.

"Let's move it!" The leader said and with a pop her family disappeared right before her eyes.

"Name."

"Velia de Galdo."

"Age."

"23."

"Status."

"Halfblood."

The deatheater stopped and looked at the girl in front of him, as if studying her, then flicked his wand out and passed it over her body.

"Hmmm." He seemed displeased that she was indeed a halfblood. Then went back to his paper. "Height."

"1.7 meters."

"Weight."

"50 kilograms."

"Bust."

"Scusa?"

"You heard me."

"75C."

"A bit small." The deatheater scrutinized her with lustful eyes.

Velia scoffed.

"You can proceed to the next door." He waved her off after he pinched her butt. She mumbled a few choice words then proceeded into her next hell.

This had been going on all week. Constant questioning and sizing. They sent her to fitness classes. Fed her nasty potions that were to keep her thin and healthy. Not to mention violated her with looks and slaps on the arse. All this, however, she thought was surely not as bad as it would have been had they know she was Hermione Granger, mudblood.

Luckily her potions worked for six months before blood detection could be set off. Her appearance charm could only be reversed if she did it herself, and she had also practiced legillimency so they couldn't find her out.

She handed the man at the desk a piece of parchment the deatheater before had given her. He looked the list over and waved his wand lazily. A small packaged appeared and he handed it to her before scribbling on the parchment and handing her back the paper. "Congratulations, you've made it to level 9. You will be sold to the highest bidder of the Dark Lord's inner circle. What they do to you then is not our problem."

Velia's jaw dropped.

Sold?

Before she could protest two deatheaters stepped in. They took her by the arms, dragging her through the door. She yelled profanities in Italian to the men and tried in vain to wriggle her way out of their grip.

Fed up, the deatheaters chanted a quick stupefy at the girl. Her body instantly went limp in their arms as they dragged her to the nearest portkey.