A/N: Updated 6/15/18 - I have an outline! But still no update schedule. This is going to be 12 chapters or so.

A warning:

1) This will be rated M for sex, language, and violence.

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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

August 2002

Diagon Alley

London, UK

The day the Muggle-Repelling charms fell around Diagon Alley wasn't the worst day of Hermione's life, but it was close. She was helping George mind the shop when a massive clap of what Hermione assumed to be thunder was heard.

It wasn't thunder.

The first Muggle who walked through the space where the Leaky Cauldron had stood was killed in the street. An Avada Kedavra right to the heart. The second and third suffered the same fate. Nobody knew what happened to the Leaky Cauldron or the Muggle-Repelling charms that had been set into its very stones, but when they tried to reset the charms, they failed. Every time. In fact, all Muggle-Repelling charms began to fail all across Britain. Hermione didn't know if it was happening in other magical communities, because a week after the Muggle-Repelling charms fell, the hunts began.

The first day of the hunts had been close to the worst day of Hermione's life. She'd been living in her parent's house. They hadn't sold it before their impromptu trip to Australia, and Hermione decided since it was empty and sitting there, she'd live there. She hadn't counted on the Muggle government being much more organized and swifter than the wizarding one. Her records, showing that she'd dropped out of school at age eleven had been the tip-off.

She'd had to incapacitate seven law enforcement personnel before she'd managed to escape.

Wizarding society in Britain was essentially destroyed.

November 2002

Forest of Dean

Gloucestershire, UK

The worst day of Hermione's life had been the day she'd killed a Muggle law enforcement office. She'd been foraging in the Forest of Dean, living in the same tent she and Harry and Ron had lived in during the war. She hadn't seen another wizard since she'd been on the run, too afraid to go anywhere magical lest she either be captured or lead Muggle law enforcement to her friends.

The Muggle saw Hermione use magic. Then he pulled out this thing; it looked like a ray-gun from Muggle comic books from the sixties. It wasn't a ray-gun. It was some sort of magical dampening device. Hermione cursed wizards and their inability or unwillingness to do any sort of scientific research. She had no idea how quickly the Muggles had been able to figure out something like a magical dampening device without magic. But it had only been a few months since the fall of wizarding Britain.

"Hey! Witch!" the Muggle shouted at her. Hermione whirled around, horrified at having been caught.

"Stay back!" Hermione warned, pointing her wand at him. She wasn't worried about using magic against Muggles now. Not since they began hunting down her kind. Once she had counted herself a Muggle, and she would have again, had they not figured out she was indeed a witch.

The Muggle pulled out the ray-gun looking thing, and Hermione cast a Shield charm, it usually worked with projectiles. It failed the moment the Muggle pulled the gun.

"What?" Hermione cast again, but nothing happened. The Muggle laughed.

Hermione instantly knew what that thing was, and turned and sprinted as fast as she could, hoping to lose the Muggle in the trees. She raced and tripped and caught herself several times before she ran directly into someone. Bouncing off of a hard body, she would have fallen had the person she ran into not caught her around the waist. Hermione's eyes widened when she caught sight of the broad chest; she tipped her head back. A huge, Viking of a man was staring down at her with piercing blue eyes. His long, dirty-blond hair hung past his shoulders, and he had a neatly trimmed beard. His hands ran up and down her back.

"Alright, Little Witch?" Thorfinn Rowle rumbled.

Fuck! Hermione's mind screamed. What was worse Muggles or Death Eaters? A few months ago it would have been Death Eaters hands down. Now? Now it was Muggles.

"There's a Muggle following me," Hermione said quickly. "He's got a magic dampening device; we have to get away."

"Not so fast, solnyshka," Antonin Dolohov said from her other side.

Hermione whirled around, spotting the dark-haired Russian and felt her heart begin to race even faster. Rowle was bad, Dolohov was worse. Turning again she found Talen Yaxley, almost as large as Rowle, but completely clean shaven, including his head, and next to him was Connor Gibbon, who almost looked like a Weasley with his light red hair and towering height.

She hadn't found one Death Eater; she'd found an entire encampment. She started backing away but found herself backing into the solid chest of Rowle, who had positioned himself behind her.

"Which way did you say that Muggle was?" Rowle whispered in her ear. Hermione found herself shivering involuntarily. She couldn't figure out what to do. These were the first magical people she'd run into in months, and she had been desperate to find some of her own kind, but Death Eaters? Even if the Dark Lord was defeated, that didn't make them good people. It made them people who had escaped from Azkaban once the Muggle-Repelling charms failed. She supposed she was glad they hadn't rotted there once the guards had run away, but her compassion didn't override her good sense.

"Where, solnyshka?" Dolohov asked with urgency in his voice.

Hermione closed her eyes, listening for the Muggle, she could hear something crashing through the brush off to the left and pointed. Gibbon, Yaxley, and Dolohov raced off that direction as Rowle slipped his hands around her waist.

"Wh-What are you doing?" Hermione asked. She desperately wanted to pull away but didn't want to anger the man either. He was huge and could subdue her easily.

"Haven't seen a witch in years," Rowle muttered. His breath was hot in Hermione's ear, and this time she shivered for an entirely different reason.

Rowle's hands wandered along her waist, rising as high as her chest to brush the underside of her breasts and as low as her thighs.

"This is not the time for this," Hermione hissed, and Rowle pressed his lips to her neck.

"You sure?" Rowle asked, trailing his lips down her neck to her shoulder. Hermione's head seemed to tilt involuntarily to give him better access. "I think you rather like it."

The worst part was that he wasn't wrong. She did like it. Probably too much. But Rowle was a Death Eater and—

Gibbon, Yaxley, and Dolohov returned then. The Muggle was being dragged between Gibbon and Yaxley.

"Did he touch you?" Dolohov asked Hermione.

"Wh-Who?" She shook her head. Clearly, Dolohov could see Rowle standing behind her, his arms still around her waist.

"The Muggle," Gibbon spat.

"No," Hermione shook her head.

"Well, that will make his death easier," Yaxley commented.

"What? No! You can't kill him!" Hermione shouted, trying to dart forward, but Rowle's hands held her in place.

"They are killing us, solnyshka," Dolohov spat.

"But—"

"If we don't kill him, Little Witch," Rowle breathed into her ear, "then he will come back one day to kill us."

Hermione shook her head, she knew Rowle was right, but thus far she had been sparing the Muggles, she wasn't a killer.

"She needs to do it," Gibbon growled.

"No!" Hermione shouted. "I am not killing him."

"Come, now, she probably hasn't ever killed anyone," Rowle said, oddly defending her. "I'll do it."

"No," Yaxley said, stepping forward. "She needs to do it. She's a witch. Prove to us that you're on our side and not theirs."

Rowle backed away from Hermione then, and she found she missed his warmth. Could she do it? Could she kill this Muggle? He surely would have killed her; she knew that without a certainty. This was a war, a more significant and more devastating war than the one with the Dark Lord. For wizards were fighting for their very survival now.

"I can't," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes. She cursed the tears she felt streak down her cheeks and dropped her head so that the Death Eaters wouldn't see. Would they kill her? For her failure to execute a Muggle?

"You can," Gibbon said. Suddenly Hermione felt another pair of hands on her waist. She snapped her eyes open, turning her head to find Gibbon standing behind her. Just as Rowle had made her breath catch, so to did Gibbon.

"You have to believe it. You have to want it. More than that, you have to use a strong emotion to force the spell. Just like your Patronus needs happiness, the Unforgivables need hate."

Hermione nodded, unable to take her eyes from Gibbon's light green ones. She felt captivated by those eyes and the rush of arousal that had begun by Rowle and his kisses, flared to life again under Gibbon's touch.

"Who do you hate?" Gibbon asked softly.

Hermione shook her head, "Nobody."

Gibbon narrowed his eyes and pursed her lips, then gently turned her face, so she was looking at the Muggle. He was unconscious lying on the ground.

"Wake him up, Talen," Gibbon ordered.

A quick Rennervate later and the Muggle was on the ground, gasping.

"What?" the Muggle said, testing the ropes that bound him. "What's going on?"

"Now, what do you think the Muggle would do to you if he had caught you alone in the forest?"

Hermione shook her head; she absolutely did not want to think of that. Gibbon's left hand went from resting on her waist to the front of her hip, pressing her back into his body. He was hard, she could feel the length of him against her bum, and her breath caught.

"Would he have captured you? Maybe bound you, like he's bound now?"

Hermione didn't move, just fingered the wand she was still clutching. He might have.

"Would he have violated you? Tore your clothes from your body and taken it for his?" Gibbon's breath was hot in Hermione's ear, even as his arms wrapped themselves tighter around her body, holding her to him. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the Muggle, who was now spouting epithets at them.

"I'm going to fucking kill you! Fucking freaks! The lot of you!" The Muggle was practically frothing at the mouth.

Hermione felt her blood begin to boil. How dare he? They weren't freaks! Any more than he was for not having magic.

"Would he have brought all his mates along for the ride?" Gibbon asked. "Would he have insisted you give them a turn too?"

Hermione's breath was coming hard and fast now as she imagined what the Muggle would have done to her had she not run into the Death Eaters. She wasn't naive. She knew what a man could do to a woman he found on his own. Especially a man like this Muggle who clearly was out hunting down wizards.

"Would he have killed you? After he used you? Killed you and thrown you away like trash?"

Hermione practically growled at that. He would have. Absolutely and the thought infuriated her.

"That hate you're feeling? Use it. Say it," Gibbon urged.

Hermione lifted her wand, letting the hate fill her entire being, "Avada Kedavra." She said it quietly, but with as much power as she could put behind the spell. A jet of vivid green light shot out of her wand and hit the man in the chest, knocking him to his back, killing him instantly.

Hermione felt nothing at his death. She'd expected to feel her soul rip in two, but it didn't. She felt nothing. She felt almost numb. Gibbon released her and stepped back, and that's when Hermione realized she was going to faint. She began to tumble and was out before she hit the floor of the forest.

November 2002

Forest of Dean

Gloucestershire, UK

"Can't believe that worked," Antonin muttered as Granger was fainting.

"Merlin," Thorfinn grunted, having run to catch the falling witch. "Couldn't have kept hold of her could you, Connor?"

"Didn't think she'd faint," Connor shrugged. "What're we going to do with him?" Connor kicked the dead Muggle's leg.

"We could set him out as a warning," Talen suggested.

"No," Antonin replied. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "It's too close to our camp anyway. Let's just transfigure him to something else and leave it near the trailhead. And get this one," he gestured to Granger, "back to camp."

"You got it," Connor replied.

"Come on," Antonin nodded to Connor and directed Thorfinn and Talen to follow him back to camp. He had no idea what they were going to do with Granger. She was both a blessing and a complication. The only witch in the camp made her a blessing. The only witch in the camp made her a complication as well. Most of the Death Eaters they had were escaped from Azkaban after the Muggle-Repelling charms fell.

Antonin wasn't sure how it happened, but he seemed to find himself as the de facto leader of the camp. He was by far the oldest Death Eater around, which meant the younger ones looked up to him. Most of the time he just felt like a fraud and did his best to keep everyone alive. And now that included Granger. Thorfinn had already had his hands all over the girl. Had they been gone any longer, Antonin was sure they'd have come back to find her bent over as Thorfinn fucked her.

It was a complication he didn't need. But it was a blessing that may just save the camp from tearing itself apart if he could get the wizards to leave her alone. Antonin didn't think a witch as bright as Granger would take kindly to becoming the camp broomstick and he honestly hoped it didn't come to that. But she had seemed to trust them much quicker than he would have thought, blurting out about the Muggle following her, instead of trying to escape and then whatever it was Connor had done to her to make her kill the Muggle. That had been a bit of magic that Antonin was not familiar with.

If Granger chose a mate, how would Antonin keep the rest of the wizards from tearing her mate or her apart? He didn't know, which is what made her a complication he didn't need. Maybe he could disguise her as a young boy instead of a woman?

"Stop," Antonin said suddenly. He whirled around to Thorfinn, who was holding Granger bridal style and looking at her with such adoration that Antonin already knew Thorfinn was going to be a problem.

"What's going on?" Talen asked.

"I'm going to need you two and Connor to make me a vow. Granger can't be brought into camp like this. Not as a witch. We'll never survive. I'm going to mask her identity as a young boy instead. But I'll need your vow to not tell a soul about it."

Thorfinn furrowed his brows, and Talen asked, "What do you mean we won't survive?"

"When was the last time you set eyes on a witch before today?"

"During the war," Talen replied, suddenly seeming to get it. "They'll all want a piece of her."

"That is not happening," Thorfinn growled.

Antonin pursed his lips; already it was going to be a problem. Hopefully, if he could keep it among these three, three of his most trusted men, this deception might work.

"Which is why we're going to cast a glamour charm and make her look like a young wizard. Maybe a teenager. Then she'll be assigned to one of our te—"

"Mine," Thorfinn said. "She'll be assigned to mine."

"Alright," Antonin agreed. Better not argue with Thorfinn on it, as Thorfinn was their biggest wizard, the enforcer for most of the camp. Antonin didn't want to get on his bad side. "Can I cast the charm now?"

"Only if you tell me the counter-charm," Thorfinn replied.

Talen frowned, "Thor, are you going to sleep with her?"

"Going to try my best."

"What about the rest of us?" Talen asked.

"Don't get in my way," Thorfinn replied menacingly.

"This isn't going to work," Talen told Antonin. "Not if he's going to act like a jealous brute. He doesn't get to keep her for himself."

"First, she's a fucking witch, which makes her her own damned person," Granger muttered from Thorfinn's arms.

She cracked an eye and looked straight at Antonin. "But I agree with your assessment; I do not want to be passed around like some sexual toy for however many wizards are in the camp." Then she swatted Thorfinn, "Put me down, you brute."

Gently, Thorfinn set her on her feet, but kept his hands on her waist, steadying her.

"But what about us?" Talen asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not inclined to sleep with someone just because they are sexually frustrated and will know my secret," Granger replied, her hands attempting to pull out of Thorfinn's grasp.

"But what about when you're sexually frustrated, Little Witch?" Thorfinn muttered, pulling her into his body.

Antonin found it interesting that her breath caught and her eyes fluttered a very telling reaction.

"It's your choice," Antonin told her. "Us three and Connor are the only ones who will know you are a witch. We'll keep it that way for now. I'll tell you all the counter-charm, but don't get fucking caught."

"Or caught fucking," Talen laughed.

Antonin glared at him.

"Fine," Granger replied. "I agree with your terms."

"Good."

November 2002

Forest of Dean

Death Eater Encampment

Hermione was nervous and scared. The Death Eaters made her nervous; the fact that she was walking into a Death Eater encampment with who knew how many wizards who hadn't seen a witch in years made her want to run away and hide. The glamor Dolohov had crafted for her worked rather well, but Hermione was terrified it would fade at some point.

Gibbon eventually caught up to them and had been let in on the secret as well. "We'll find something to charm for you to wear," Gibbon had told her.

"You can do that?" Hermione asked. She'd never heard of such a thing. Gibbon grinned and removed a ring he'd been wearing on his right hand. Immediately his face was splattered with freckles.

"My mother's ring," Gibbon said, "she charmed it to hide her own freckles, and when she died, I took to wearing it."

"That's very impressive," Hermione replied and watched as he slipped it back onto his pinky. The freckles disappeared.

"Jewelry works best, but I don't see you're wearing any…"

"I sold it, for food money a few months back," Hermione said tightly. Not ready to get into all that had happened to her in the last few months.

Thankfully, Gibbon just nodded, and they continued to the camp.

"Speak as little as possible," Antonin instructed her. He seemed to be the leader of this band, and Hermione found herself nodding along to his instructions.

"We can add a voice deepening charm to whatever it is we find," Gibbon said.

"What name?" Hermione asked.

"Herman?" Antonin suggested, and Hermione wrinkled her nose. "What's your suggestion?"

"No Herman is fine. Will they have a problem that I'm Muggleborn?" Hermione asked.

"If they ask, we'll say you're a half-blood. But seriously, no talking until we get something charmed for you. And if you do talk, whisper it or something."

Hermione nodded, taking it all in. They'd decided the easiest way to deal with her hair was just to cut it off, and her head felt strangely light without the mass of curls to weigh it down. She'd even exchanged her clothes for a set of Gibbon's, by far the person closest to her in size, but they still had to charm them to make them fit. She felt like an imposter and was very uncomfortable.

"Everyone in the camp has a job; we'll have you shadow Connor for now."

Hermione nodded, and they were off again. She smelled the campfires before she saw them and within moments she found herself in a circle of tents surrounded by Death Eaters.