Right then - Hi everybody! I've written a new story =) I've actually hand written pretty much all of it already, and now I'm just transferring it to PC and editing it.

This is a bit of a dark one. It's a What If kind of story. It's based on if Voldermort and his Death Eaters had won The Battle Of Hogwarts and not Harry and co. And I know it's been done before - I know that - but here's hoping that you guys might see something new and/or interesting in this one. Also, it's told from Hermione's point of view mainly, just generally because she's my favourite character to work with.

I hope you guys all like it =)

Captivity - Chapter One - Practice

"Ron!" commanded Hermione in what she'd like to think was an authoritative tone. "Ron, I'm warning you!"

She screamed, leaping backwards as a jet of water shot towards her. "Ron! I'm serious - don't you dare -"

But Ron had that mischievous look on his face. The look that told Hermione that he wouldn't be giving up easily - and that she would be getting wet. He was smiling broadly and creeping forwards like a lion in the savannah. "Come on Hermione. Accept your fate. It'll be so much easier if you just stand still."

"Honestly Ron," spluttered Hermione, dodging a few more spurts of water. "Stop being so childish!" The statement was somewhat ruined however, when Hermione let out an amused little yelp, turned and ran away from Ron.

"Aw, I'm not running, Hermione," she heard him moan, as she belted around to the picnic blanket they had laid out on the edge of the Black Lake. She glanced at Harry, who was lying on his side, staring strangely at a kiwi fruit.

"Fruit shouldn't be hairy," he mumbled absently, before turning his head around to Hermione. "Having fun are you?" He smirked good naturedly and Hermione returned it.

She noticed that Ron was slowly making his way towards them. "Ron's trying to get me, but he forgets who he's messing with." She moved a few sandwiches still wrapped up in clingfilm in order to obtain her wand. "Ah ha!" she cried triumphantly. "Right, we'll just see who's going to make who wet now, shall we?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Have I ever told you how much I like you, Hermione?"

"Duly noted," said Hermione slyly. She turned from Harry and pointed her wand at the fast approaching Ron. He stopped dead.

"Not so tough now huh, tough guy," Hermione quipped, quirking her lip.

"Yeah - come on Ron," came Harry's encouragement from the picnic blanket.

Ron didn't look so certain anymore. "Yeah. Right. Alright. Ag - Aguamenti!"

"Impervius!" cried Hermione, sending Ron's blast of water straight back at him. He spluttered and coughed, shaking out his now dripping clothing.

Harry and Hermione howled with laughter.

"Yeah alright," he muttered, wiping at his face as water dribbled down from his nose. "Let you do that, didn't I?"

"Right," laughed Hermione. "Very - um, gentlemanly of you Ronald."

Ron shrugged, as if saying 'can I help it if that's just who I am?'

That's when she heard them.

The roars and stampeding footsteps of many - suddenly very loud and all around them. Somewhere, not too distant, something exploded. Hermione backed up, wand uselessly slack in her hand and heart hammering.

"We need to leave!" she cried. "We need to go now!"

But Ron and Harry, looking so tranquil in the sun, were in no hurry. They were joking - slapping each other on the shoulders and slowly unwrapping the sandwiches.

Hermione felt like she was falling. Her world had become dreamlike and she felt as if she were seeing through someone else's eyes. She didn't understand how they could remain so calm. He was coming. She knew it. "We need to go!" she cried again, but it came out sounding very quiet and strangely distorted.

A smiling Ron and Harry waved Hermione over, seeming not to have heard or cared for her warnings. She needed to make them understand - but it was too late. Voldermort had arrived. He swooped to the ground like some terrible, deformed eagle and then stood, glaring at the scene before him.

"Harry Potter," he hissed. Harry looked up. His smile vanished, eyes growing horribly wide.

"You're not meant to have won," said Harry, in a choked whisper. "We were. The good side always wins."

"Not this time," said Voldermort. "To the Boy Who Lived I say that it ends here."

Voldermort raised his wand and Hermione rushed forward with no thought or desire other than to save Harry. "HARRY!"

- Hermione, eyes snapping open, heard the footsteps before she was even fully aware of her reality. Cold metal was pressing against her cheek. She sat up, reasoning that she must have fallen asleep against the bars of her cell. She stared down the dark walkway outside. Someone was coming.

Instinctively, Hermione pulled back to crouch in the relative safety of the shadows. As she sat cowering - waiting - she was reminded of how very far away she was from the wilful young girl she had once been. That Hermione wouldn't be hiding. But that Hermione hadn't yet been beaten to within an inch of her life for insolence - and it was quite amazing what isolation could do to a person.

A Death Eater stopped outside and peered through the bars at her. His hulking form caused even more shadow to fall across the huddled Hermione and her heart began to pound madly.

"Mudblood," he said gruffly. It was all she had been called for the last six months. She barely remembered her true name anymore. "Come here."

The old Hermione would have held her ground, hopefully forcing the Death Eater to have to come in and get her; she would have hit him with everything she had and then ran for it…but that wasn't her anymore. Instead, she got up to her feet and stumbled forward obediently. Hermione was far removed from any illusion of escape.

The Death Eater had pulled out his wand and flicked it, causing the usual handcuffs to materialise. They travelled between the bars of Hermione's cell and locked themselves tightly around her wrists. She had quickly learnt with this task that the more you struggled, the more it hurt - and that the handcuffs would always find their mark, through any means possible.

It was much easier to cooperate…which, incidentally, seemed to have become her motto.

"You're needed," continued the Death Eater.

Hermione wasn't fast enough to stop her curious tongue from asking, "Needed for what?" It was strange to hear her own voice. It had been some time since she'd spoken and it sounded horribly strained and croaky as a result. Speaking to people on a day to day basis had been just one more thing she'd taken for granted in her free life.

The Death Eater's eyes flashed. Hermione flinched, preparing herself for the inevitable lashing punishment, but it seemed the Death Eater thought better of this, because the next thing Hermione knew was her cell door being opened and herself being hauled out and forced down the walkway.

She kept her head low as she passed the surrounding cells. She dared not meet any whose eyes may be staring out at her; Hermione knew what she'd find in those eyes, because she felt it too - pain, fear, desolation.

"You're due at the Training Hall," the Death Eater muttered suddenly.

Hermione didn't want to push her luck by asking what that meant, and so continued on in silence, pausing only when a Dementor crossed her path. That empty, cold hopelessness they brought was a familiar feeling for Hermione; the Dementors patrolled the prison - Azkaban prison - as they had before Lord Voldermort's rule. It seemed they cared little for loyalty as long as their unquenchable hunger was appeased. It was usual to hear the howls of terror coming from neighbouring cells as its captive was slowly drained; Hermione often sat, hugging her knees and listening, terrified of the day when a Dementor would sail over to her door looking for a soul.

The 'Training Hall' was filled with people and yet deathly quiet. A few felt brave enough to whisper amongst themselves but most just stared forward with wide, terrified eyes or, more worriedly, glazed, indifferent ones.

Everyone was bound with the same handcuffs that she wore. Hermione was shoved into one group before her Death Eater left. She gazed at all the faces around her, noting that there were many children much younger than herself mixed in, but no one looked the slightest bit familiar. Her heart dropped. Hermione knew it was foolish but she still clung to the hope that Harry and Ron had survived and that she'd find them one day. She would have been glad to see anyone she had once known.

Quite abruptly, one of the young boys of the group turned to her. Behind all the grime and caked-on blood, Hermione could see that he must have been no older than ten or eleven. His wide, blue eyes gazed at her, having seen much too much for his age. Far too much.

For a moment, he did nothing but stare and when the boy did finally speak it was in a voice so distant and cheerless that Hermione was sure it couldn't have come from such an innocent child. "Can you help us?" he asked.

She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, no."

"But I know who you are!" he said accusingly. "I'm sure of it!"

"I can't help anyone," Hermione mumbled, hating the truth of her own words.

"Please…you have to help us," choked the boy and then, much louder, "You have to!"

"I'm sorry, I -"

"You must!" he cried, suddenly shouting and then, to Hermione's horror, he began to back up away from the crowd, arms outstretched, all the time screaming, "Help us please! Help us!" over and over again.

"Hey!" shouted one of the Death Eaters. "Be quiet over there!"

"Please," hissed Hermione urgently. "Come back over here."

But the boy seemed beyond reason and continued to scream.

"I said shut up!" demanded the Death Eater, turning fully around.

"Please! Please!" he cried.

The flash of green light hit the boy before Hermione had even registered that it had been cast. He crumpled to the floor instantly and lay there quite still, finally silenced.

Anyone who had been talking stopped immediately. Hermione just stared, eyes filling with tears and breath ragged.

"Right! Line up then you scum!" barked another Death Eater, as if nothing had happened, which, Hermione knew to the Death Eaters, nothing had.

Everyone did as they were told, quickly shuffling into line. Upon doing this, a whole mass of Death Eaters swarmed into the room. They came forward towards the prisoners, many stepping over the young boy's body with barely a glance. Up and down the line they went - appraising each captive as if they were nothing more than cattle. Hermione couldn't take their scrutiny and instead chose to look down at her shoeless feet. Minutes passed and Hermione sensed, rather than saw, someone approach and stop in front of her.

"Look at me," commanded a strong, authoritative voice.

There was something strangely familiar about it, so much so that it forced Hermione to look up in curiosity - only to be disappointed. There was nothing recognisable in the face that stared back at her. He was a tall man, broad shouldered and fit-looking, with a mop of thick, black, untidy hair, which looked bizarrely unnatural on his head, as if it had just been placed there as an afterthought. He also looked fairly young - late twenties if Hermione were to guess. It was his eyes that really caught Hermione's attention though - brilliant green. He would have been almost attractive had he not been an evil Death Eater out to do inevitable harm.

The Death Eater's eyes widened momentarily. Hermione swore that she caught something in them - but it was gone before she could be sure and she was left feeling oddly confused.

"I choose you," he said gruffly.

Hermione wanted to retort that she was a human being and not his to choose, but many long months in Azkaban had taught her to hold her tongue.

"My name is Arden Marwick. But you can address me as 'Sir.'"

Hermione, having got use to rough treatment, couldn't fathom these pleasantries, and almost fell over when asked, "And yours is?"

She merely stared at him, untrusting, having no clue why this was all necessary.

"Answer me."

"See you've picked the Mudblood then, Marwick?" said a Death Eater as he came over, clapping Marwick on the shoulder. "Got a taste for em,' eh?" He laughed, fully expecting Marwick to join in it seemed, as when he didn't the Death Eater's expression grew foul and he glared nastily at Hermione. "Couldn't stand the filthy blood myself," he muttered. "Wouldn't want any of it getting on me after I gave her a good lashing, you know?"

Marwick said nothing and the Death Eater moved off, chuckling to himself.

"Well, he seems to find himself funny at least," mumbled Marwick. Hermione wasn't sure if this was meant to be directed at her or not, but, either way, he said nothing else, merely grabbing Hermione's wrist and dragging her over to the centre of the hall, where, Hermione noticed, many other Death Eaters stood - each grasping the arm of a prisoner.

As the straggling Death Eaters joined the throng with their chosen captives in tow, Yaxley came to stand at the front of the crowd. Hermione glared at him, hoping her sheer hatred of the man was enough to make his head spontaneously explode. He had been the one to catch her in the end. She winced as she remembered her wand being snapped in two and Yaxley's twisted face staring down at her, grinning in sick triumph.

"Death Eaters in training," he began importantly, wrenching Hermione back to bitter reality. "I welcome you. You have succeeded where others have…met their untimely demise." At this he gave a sinister smile and a few Death Eaters jeered their approval. "It seems that our Lord has seen something in all of you. Let his judgement not be in vain. Let you not disappoint him." He paused, letting the threat of his words sink in. "Now then - to business. Our Lord has graciously allowed you to learn the most darkest of magic. He has shown you all how to unlock great power - and now he offers you this filth to practise your arts upon."

Yaxley continued on with his speech, but Hermione heard no more. Her blood had run cold at the word 'practice.' She looked up in panic at Marwick, but he appeared too intent on Yaxley to notice her.

Everyone was suddenly moving - the Death Eaters dragging their terrified quarry with them. Hermione felt a tug on her wrist and fought against it, but Marwick was much stronger and dragged her down the hall, before stopping, forcing her to stand in place and then backing away.

"If you move from the space your Death Eater has put you in you will die…slowly," warned Yaxley.

Hermione could have laughed. Dying wasn't quite the threat it should have been when the only other option was insufferable pain. The Death Eaters would use them until they died anyway. And yet, knowing this, Hermione still stood rooted in her spot, her terrified breathing filling her head and muffling out any thought of escape. The other captives were all looking wildly around at each other in panic. Hermione didn't know what to do. Everything was going too quickly - she needed time to think. But her breathing was too loud, the terror on the faces around her too much - she couldn't seem to react.

A roar of 'CRUCIO!' sounded - the curse coming from the mouths of a hundred Death Eaters. People were suddenly screaming and dropping everywhere. They grasped at the air - their bodies shuddering in terrible, uncontrollable spasms. Hermione looked over to Marwick, eyes widening as she watched him raise his wand.

Right so, love it? Hate it? Bothered in any way at all? Let me know. Update to follow soon.