Disclaimer: I'm not an awesome enough human being to own Harry Potter. Only J.K. Rowling has reached that magnitude of awesomeness. And maybe Yann Tiersen.

So, um, this was written- sorry, it is being written- for my friend Bi's birthday, which is today. So happy birthday to you, Bi, and hope you like this!

For the rest of you, reviews make me veeeery happy. :)

Chapter 1

Broken

Being shrouded in darkness and utter silence, save the irritating padding of a rat's feet, could easily corrupt the mind in mere days, depending on whom the mind belonged to. In this case, the mind belonged to a young woman of seventeen. She had a gaunt, pale face, and sunken eyes- which had long since lost their curious and intelligent gleam- and a protruding ribcage. She also possessed random patches of hair on her otherwise bald scalp, as most of her curls had been burned off during a torture session conducted by Bellatrix Lestrange. Mistress Lestrange had been in a rather sour mood that day.

The last time the girl had eaten was only an hour ago- her meal had been one of those annoying rats, killed with her own, scarred hands. The beverage had been of her own urine.

The young woman never cried except during the infamous sessions. She had had seven in total during the six months she had been imprisoned. Two sessions had been in public. One had been carried out by the Dark Lord himself.

At the current time, the girl in question was lying on the floor, her glassy brown eyes unseeing and facing outside the cell.

Then came heavy footsteps.

They echoed loudly as they fell along the concrete flooring. For those in neighbouring cells who hadn't been imprisoned for a long time, who hadn't lost their desire to live, time seemed to stand still. They wondered who the person had come for- who would be tortured next. Would their screams be heard through the walls like most, or would they stand their ground and refuse to utter a single word?

That feat had yet to be conquered though, as silence normally meant that the prey was either unconscious or dead.

The girl on the floor, having thought those thoughts herself once upon a time, laughed bitterly, but her quiet rasps were lost among the sound of the footsteps. Then she heard another sound and her amusement ended.

There was a faint dragging noise accompanying the footfalls. It sounded like a snake slithering along the ground. She knew that noise personally and flinched upon hearing it.

The footsteps became louder as they came closer, then they stopped. They stopped right outside the girl's cell. The worried ones brought their anxiety to an end. No one had the nerve to sympathize.

There was a spell muttered then, "Wake up," from the gruff voice that the footsteps seemed to belong to. The girl didn't move. "Wake up, you little piece of filth!" She still didn't move. "You better not be dead." And with an exasperated sigh, the person bent down, his long crusty beard brushing against the bridge of her nose. He then slapped her on the cheek soundly and she let out a whimper.

"Get up, Mudblood, or I'll lash you here and now," demanded he. The girl got up as quickly as her drained legs could muster. She buckled slightly once she was finally up, but grabbed hold of the wall and steadied herself.

The brick was cool and moist and, surprisingly, not moldy. Refreshing.

"Follow me," the person said. It was too dark to see them clearly, but the girl could make out a tall, heavyset man with a bit of a hunch. They began to walk or, in her case, limp.

They passed long rows of cells, filled with people as wasted and destroyed, both physically and mentally, as her. Though some cells contained people who still had hope; one person was trying to dig a tunnel in the ground with his broken nails and teeth that had fallen off and out. The man with the heavy footsteps Stunned that person.

Finally, they came to a grand, garnished black door. The man pushed it open.

A sinister green light tinted the room and the girl stopped walking, trying to get her eyes accustomed to the light. She no longer cared what the repercussions of her action would be.

"Walk on," the man ordered impatiently. She was unresponsive. "WALK ON!"

A sharp crack, a painful sting in the back of her neck, and a new scar, but no tears- she had become accustomed to pain and this, by far, was not painful in the least compared to the torture she had received beforehand. Nevertheless, she continued to walk forward slowly, staring at her feet the entire time, and only came to a halt when the man pulled on her arm. The girl looked up and immediately recoiled from the sight that greeted her eyes.

His white-blond hair had a bit of an odd sparkle to it and his grey eyes were as icy as ever. He had noticeable dark bags underneath his eyes that were bloodshot as well and a thin jagged scar ran down from the middle of his left cheek to the top of his neck.

"Follow me, you two," Draco Malfoy said coldly. He looked at the girl in revulsion, as if she was some sort of filthy rodent.

But, in her current state, she might as well have been. At least that way no one would have bothered to make her go through hell and back.

"Actually, Malfoy, I have other jobs to do," the man with the heavy footsteps stated before the Malfoy could begin walking. Malfoy glared at him.

"Really?" he said, his upper lip curling. "What sort of 'jobs', Jugson?"

"Jobs that do not require steering this Mudblood around," the man replied exasperatedly, as if he had better things to do than argue with someone half his age. "And Lestrange said this is as far as I have to go if you want to argue even more." He pushed the decrepit girl towards Malfoy. "She's all yours." Then he walked away.

The girl knew he was gone for good by the resounding bang of the grand black door.

"Don't you dare try anything, Mudblood," Malfoy said calmly to the girl, glaring after Jugson. "If you do, I'll have Aunt Bella come over and torture you and we both know how much you'd like that." He turned his back on the girl and began to walk. "Follow me."

The two walked through a door that wasn't as polished as the black one, but still as grand, and into a corridor in which Muggle and Mudblood slaves were scrubbing blood and grime off the floors. Malfoy didn't bother to go around them; they all moved out of his way or he simply stepped on them. The servants did the same for the girl but sent her looks of sympathy as well, thinking that she was probably on her way for another round of torment. A few people smiled encouragingly but with sad eyes. The drained girl didn't return the smiles.

After a bit more walking, they reached a room that was completely dark inside. Malfoy shoved the girl roughly in before leaving and banging the door shut. She instantly ran, her hand feeling along the rough brick wall, into a corner where she fell into a fetal position, bracing herself for the pain to come; whenever she had been tortured- except for when it was in public- she would be thrown into a dark, silent room similar to the one she was currently in. They sometimes left her alone with only her thoughts and the maddening silence for hours on end. Other times, they came right away.

The girl preferred that they come right away.

Of course, no one cared much for her opinion.

She vividly remembered the first time she had been tortured after the end of the War. It was a day after Harry Potter had been killed and immediately after she had been captured. They had stripped her of her clothes, leaving not even a single thread to cover herself with. The girl remembered Death Eaters laughing cruelly, throwing multiple spells at her- mainly just the Cruciatus Curse- before Bellatrix Lestrange had shooed them all away.

"Let's finished what we started at the Manor, Mudblood," she'd snarled once the two were the only ones left in the room. "It's time for the real fun to begin!" Then she had laughed like the madwoman she was.

Pain. Horrible pain that had been unknown to the girl until then.

For eight hellish hours.

"Dolor vitae!" Bellatrix shrieked. A sharp pain erupted all over the girl's body. It felt as if multiple knives were hacking at the girl- the cool feeling of metal causing the searing heat of pain and the warmth of drawn blood. It was a rather odd feeling. She screamed.

"Shut up, Mudblood. Nunc ignea!" There was a pause in the pain and the girl revelled in it, but the peace lasted for only a few seconds.

Interrupting the girl's ecstasy was loud crack and a roar like a fire's, then something blisteringly hot descended on the girl's back, whipping her repeatedly in the same spot. The girl could feel her skin tearing open and blood spilling out. She screamed more loudly than before. There was a snarl, another yell, and then even more pain.

The girl could only scream even more.

"Why are you yelling? I thought you liked it hot, Mudblood!" Bellatrix screamed in maniacal glee, but the pain stopped in a way that felt somewhat reluctant. The girl sighed and breathed in and out, but she suddenly shrieked and tried to crawl away as Bellatrix began to advance towards her.

"Why are you running, Mudblood? You know that will just make your wounds worse!" Bellatrix cried happily. The girl kept on crawling. "If you stop, I'll make you feel all better!" More crawling. "Oh, just fucking get over here already! Accio Mudblood!"

The girl felt an invisible force pull her backwards and towards her torturer. To the girl's horror, she landed right in front of the sadistic Death Eater. Bellatrix smiled coldly, got down on her knees so she was level with the girl, and picked up one of the girl's hands delicately. She tried to pull away but the Death Eater's grip was oddly strong.

"You have really pretty nails," Bellatrix remarked casually, smiling coldly. "I wonder what your hands would look like if we plucked them off." There was an excruciating pain as Bellatrix tugged off the girl's pinky nail. She started to scream and sob. "One." The nail of her ring finger flew across the room, blood trailing behind it. "By." Bellatrix peeled off the girl's middle nail off agonizingly slowly. The girl could only watch through tear-blurred eyes as blood spilled continuously. "One." The girl didn't even bother to scream when her pointer fingernail was torn off, she just continued to sob.

"Kill me, kill me now," the girl moaned.

"But I'm the only one who's had any real fun with you," Bellatrix hissed. "That wouldn't be fair would it, to kill you now? I know that some of your old classmates would absolutely love to have a go at you; I think you're even on the Dark Lord's list, you lucky bitch!"

"Y- you think I- I like this?" the girl said, her sobs wavering her voice. There was the blurred motion of a hand then a sharp, stinging sensation in the girl's left cheek.

"Are you calling me stupid?" Bellatrix snapped, throwing the girl's hand. The girl shook her head at once and Bellatrix sneered. "Pippy!" she yelled. A house-elf appeared with a loud Crack!

"Yes, madam?" it asked, bowing low.

"I've had enough of this. Get someone and have them bring this filth into its cage," Bellatrix ordered, standing up. "Its name is Hermione Granger and it belongs in one of the high-security cells."

"Yes, madam." Pippy bowed once more before disappearing. Bellatrix looked at the girl- Hermione- and smiled coldly, bending down and fingering the girl's frizzy, blood-matted curls. The girl flinched.

"This hideous rats' nest has got to go," Bellatrix whispered menacingly. She looked up as Pippy came back with a stout Death Eater trailing behind it.

"Until next time, deary," Bellatrix drawled, straightening and leaving Hermione, who was lying on the floor and crying silent tears.

"I have to carry that?" Hermione heard the summoned Death Eater sneer once Bellatrix had left.

"Yes, sir. Madam Lestrange's orders, sir," came the squeaky voice of the house-elf. There was a snort before Hermione felt herself being levitated off the ground and out of the room.

"Lumos Maxima!" someone yelled suddenly, snapping Hermione out of her little reverie. A harsh, bright light rapidly filled part of the room. Hermione curled more tightly into a little ball, hiding her head.

"What a mess," remarked someone. They sounded female. "Bellatrix, did you do this?" Someone, probably Bellatrix, scoffed. There were two more 'Lumos Maxima!s'.

"Cissy, the last time I was in this room was a week ago," Bellatrix sneered. "And Rabastan was in the room the day after. Blame him."

"Can we just get this over with?" a baritone voice said impatiently.

"Yes. Rodolpus, you do it," Cissy said haughtily. There was a growl, presumably from Rodolphus, a shriek, then the yell of a curse and the sound of crumbling brick.

"Don't you dare lay even a finger on my sister or I'll see to it personally that the other nine get sliced off!" Bellatrix screeched.

A sigh then, "Mudblood! Where're you?" from Rodolphus.

Hermione didn't answer.

"Check the corners," Bellatrix ordered. "She's always run to one ever since Yaxley tried to do a number on her eyes." Someone- it sounded like Cissy- gasped in sheer revulsion. "Oh, contain your disgust, Narcissa. What do you think happens in here?"

"I know what happens in here," Narcissa insisted, "but her- her eyes? The girl isn't a mutt you know."

"Of course she isn't. She's worse than a mutt," stated Rodolphus. Hermione tensed, noticing that his voice sounded much closer than Bellatrix and Narcissa's. The former cackled nastily.

"I can't grasp how you two can just torture people without feeling a thing. That's unhuman!"

"But Cissy, we do feel something when we torture the filth. We feel pleasure and contentment. If you just tried, for once in your life, to-"

"Found her!" Rodolphus cried triumphantly. Hermione shifted nervously as she felt his eyes rove along her body. "She's a skinny little thing, isn't she? Even worse than the others. And what happened to her hair?"

"I was in a bad mood," Bellatrix griped.

"Right. Were you sloshed as well?" Rodolphus inquired. "And you, Mudblood, get up!" Hermione did as she was told hastily, the blood rushing to her head in doing so.

"Rodolphus, go help her," Narcissa said. "She looks woozy."

"She can help herself," Bellatrix snapped.

Hermione toddled slowly, following Rodolphus into the centre of the room. She was then shoved into a chair which someone had conjured. It was a stiff, straight-backed wooden thing that was by no means comfortable but better then standing. Hermione leaned back and let out a quiet sigh of comfort. She closed her eyes…

Smack!

"Wake up, you dirty little piece of filth," Rodolphus sneered. Hermione's eyes opened suddenly and she blinked once. Twice. Three times. Three people were peering down at her. Two were glaring and one was expressionless.

"Mudblood," Bellatrix said in feigned sweetness, "the Dark Lord has been told that you used to be a very bright bit- witch while you weren't in your." The Death Eater looked at Hermione in distaste. "Current condition. So he wants to make you an offer. Cissy, you tell her the rest, I can't stand this deal." The expressionless person nodded.

"Granger," Narcissa said quietly, "you are to come up with spells of a… delicate nature and in return, you receive food, clothes, a bed, and there will be no more torture." Hermione could detect a faint trace of sympathy in the speaker's eyes. "What do you say? All you need to do is nod or shake your head."

"And if you say no, Bellatrix here, or maybe even the Dark Lord himself, will torture you until you snuff it, as there'll be no more use for you," Rodolphus added. "I should think the answer be easy to make."

Hermione's face stayed unchanged, still outlined in fear.

"Do you understand?" Narcissa asked uncertainly. Hermione nodded once.

"And what's your answer?" Bellatrix hissed. The room was filled with uneasy anticipation and Hermione's mind suddenly became filled with thoughts; it was almost painful. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to concentrate.

By saying yes, she would be working for the Dark Lord. She would be one of his minions, like Bellatrix or even Narcissa, and she would be betraying everything she had ever worked for. And everyone who had given their lives- and was still giving them- in defiance of the very person who Hermione was about to help do who-knows-what. She would be betraying Harry, Ginny, Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley.

Ron.

"Get into the damn room!" Ron yelled, pushing Hermione through the door. She turned around to protest but instead, screamed.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, pointing at the advancing Death Eater. Ron looked in the direction she was pointing and raised his wand. But too late.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"Well?" Narcissa prodded. Hermione pursed her lips, still deep in thought.

But if she took this offer- if she took this offer, there would be no more pain. No more scars, no more humiliation.

And she'd be killed if she said no.

Ron wouldn't want her to die, even if the only other option was a less than honourable one. Would he?

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and the room became even more tense.

"I will not rest until Voldemort is as dead as Sirius."

"spells of a… delicate nature…"

"We will not rest until You-Know-Who is dead."

"no more torture…"

"Go to hell, Voldy."

"food, clothes, a bed…"

"Don't you understand, Ms. Granger? You're our last hope."

Before she could stop herself, Hermione's mouth betrayed her and spoke.

"Yes," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'll do it."