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A/N this is just a prologue…

Life was perfect for her. She had the job she wanted, a secretary for the minister. She had the house she always wanted, a large apartment looking out onto the city. And the fiancée she always wanted, Harry Potter, and they were supposed to be married in a few days.

Everything was just perfect, of course maybe minus the fact that those stupid florists were out of daffodils three days before the wedding. Out of daffodils? Who ever heard of such a thing? She wouldn't have not a one in time for her wedding.

But on the morning of March 28, at precisely 9:43 daffodils were the least of her worries.

It all happened so fast. One minute she was complaining to Harry how he had forgotten to buy the ingredients for the potion she had wanted to make over the mobile, and the next she had found herself blinded, and gagged. She kicked intruder and found her self dropped on the hard concrete.

"I'm a witch after all, how could this happen?" and upon such thoughts she grabbed her wand and found away to get rid of the gag, blind still she felt the ground shake about 1.4 meters away, probably from a large male (her thought to be offender) approached him only to grabbed by the throat and thrown on the ground.

Her head was swirling, she spelled her vision back looked up and although the blood was growing around her, and she was losing air supply quickly she still tried to spell the man off of her only to spell her self into a brick wall instead of her intruder. Broken wand.

Her leg felt broken quite cleanly as she got up to try and kill the intruder. Being on the light side this had not been her goal in life to never kill again after the war. But if only she could find him.

Hermione walked around limping drastically and bleeding very badly from the head she tried to heal herself quickly only to find the opposite action occur. She was now bleeding at an even quicker pace than before, and was knocked to the ground as her other leg had now broken.

Someone had hexed her wand. Someone wants to watch her die. She'd heard about this happening from the paper. An unknown killer was out there who was doing one of two things having people torture themselves, and kidnapping them. The victims were never heard from ever again after that.

Now here she was dying. She didn't remember very many fighting techniques that didn't involve physical movement or magic. Hermione hobbled out of the alley she was dragged into, and fell onto the floor of a pub.

"Someone, oh God, someone help me!" she cried she was panicking.

"Oh lord, someone call an ambulance!" a customer cried as she's bleeding

Fucking muggles, I need magic, not a half an hour late paramedic I will die by then!

"I'm a doctor!" someone ran up, they were quite large. Their breath sounded like that of the offender, it had a slight wheeze to it on the third second of the inhale.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!" she screamed flinching back, and trying to crawl away

"Hysterical, she's going into shock." The man explained he wrapped her head in a bus boy's towel.

Unsanitary

She didn't mean to think it, but she was Hermione after all. She was losing consciousness, and her legs wouldn't move any more she couldn't get up. She was left at the mercy of this unknown medic. Hopefully he wasn't who she thought he was, hopefully he was just some unknown doctor-do-gooder who wanted to help her.

The medic just got there; they went down by her and began checking her out, pretending to act ignorant of the situation.

One put a large needle into her vein she whimpered and then screamed as fire entered her veins.

"What are you doing to her? Is she okay?" One bystander asked

"No, she won't be and neither will you." The medics shot what smelled like gasoline out of their wands

Oh God, they're going to blow up this strip.

Hermione tried to get up, she couldn't she was picked up and thrown over a shoulder. Her vision went again. This time from the drug.

"What are you doing? Hey! Is this gasoline? What are you doing, are you crazy?" A bystander asked frantically

She began to sob, she had sentenced the hundreds of people who lived and worked in this area to die. Who cared if she died, this was all her fault. She heard the door being bolted, the people helplessly trying to get out. The smell of the smoke as the building started to burn and the bang of the apparation as she was whirled elsewhere.

She passed out.

Days could have passed and Hermione would not have known the difference. She could see again, although she wished she couldn't dead bodies of muggle-borns that she worked with flooded the hallway. She closed her eyes, trying to relax, her head was pounding and she could feel her pulse in the head wound.

Hermione was held over the shoulder of this hooded stranger, she yelled. Her voice was getting raspy, and there was but no use. He would do what he wanted, and it would all soon be over. She felt bad for Harry; they were so close to being wed. He would be so broken. She began to weep for him, and for the people of London.

The captor tightened his death grip on her and told her to stop. She couldn't she was hysterical, she tried but couldn't. He tightened his grip in an exploiting manner and she just hoped it would be over soon, she would see her and Harry's parents soon.

She looked around and realized that they were in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Hermione struggled again, this time his grip becoming very suffocating. She was finding it rather hard to breathe but she stayed conscious.

Soon enough they came upon a cell. He threw her in with all of the others from the ministry. She landed on a couple of people; with a few grunts and moans she muttered her apologies.

The workers shivered and became worried of what they thought was going to happen to them.

"We're going to die, oh God we're going to die." A woman cried out and began to cry.

"Wouldn't that be better than what you've just been subjected to? I don't know about you lady but after the week I've had I'm ready to die. My wife cheats on me, I go out for a drink, and bam here I am."

"Were you hurt?" Hermione asked him, he appeared to be healed

"By my wife, of course she was with-" the man began

"No, did they torture you?" she asked

"No, well not really they punched me a bit, but not like you bloody hell you're bleeding pretty bad…" Hermione touched her head, her hair was slicked in dried blood. It wasn't flowing anymore someone must have sealed her up. She tried her legs, she could move them, healed as well. Sore but not broken.

"Anyone else? Was anyone tortured?"

Some were and some were not. It resulted in that most who were tortured badly, and not just being held captive were already dead.

Once they were here they were left untouched. The dead and dying were left outside.

She realized from being sealed up that they just wanted to hurt her, not kill her. Something was going to happen, why otherwise would they just hold people captive? Their captors were going to do something, probably something horrible and they wanted her to witness it. Why else would she still be alive after all this?

The captors came back in, Hermione recognized the breath with the wheeze, she saw the hoods and knew they were deatheaters. She felt as though she should have known, but yet after the war she thought that most of them would have stopped this madness; she thought wrong.

The way people scrambled towards the open doors of various entrances as the deatheaters entered it broke your heart. Needless to say the dozen or so that attempted were immediately killed. They were deemed too desperate.

Others were let go as they pleaded their case.

"You, I like you. I know your parents were foul, but you've helped us over the years, we're going to obliviate you, and you can go home."

About five were left to go, they had betrayed their kind of some form during the war and helped the dark. Though lately they had mixed in with the light side-media and actions, but emancipated.

The rest were one by one killed, they cried out in of pain as death filled the air. It was horrible witnessing murder of about four hundred or more people. It was like the holocaust all over again. Hermione covered her eyes, and ears trying to block out the pain.

Finally Hermione was the last one alive. She was crying, she knew all who had been killed. Mourning for her loss, and all the death she had witnessed in her most recent memories.

A hooded man began to approach her from afar, stepping confidently on the dead bodies.

At this time she was so emotionally and physically drained that she didn't even try to get away. She just wept, in panic and selfishly for herself her body ached so badly. She felt she was beginning to lose it from her loss of blood. Hermione began to take in the smell of all the battered bodies and retched before losing consciousness as she was picked up.

A few days later: Back at the Ministry

"I'm sorry to inform you, but all of the people who were taken captive, are now dead. The corpses were found in a mass graves in the countryside. The ministry would like to apologize, and has arranged for counseling."

Just as I thought, those bastards.

Harry locked his office door, and put of a silencing charm as many approached his office likely to send condolences.

He took a deep breath and began sobbing; he was supposed to be marrying Hermione tonight after work.

Harry thought back to a few months ago when he and Hermione had went to see an theater, Hermione loved the opera.

He began to think of this one song that they sang. It was her favorite, and she'd play it whenever she did the dishes.

You were once my one companion…

You were all that mattered…

You were once a friend and father

Then my world was shattered…

Wishing you were somehow here again wishing you were somehow near…sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed somehow you would be here…wishing I could hear you voice again knowing that I never would…dreaming of you wont help me to do all that you dreamed I could…

Passing the bells and sculptured angels cold and monumental seem for you the wrong companions you were warm and gentle

Too many years fighting back my tears why can't just die?

Wishing you were somehow here again knowing we must say goodbye…try to forgive teach me to live give me the strength to try… no more memories no more silent tears no more gazing across these wasted years help me say good bye…help me say good bye…

It brought back those memories of her, and he wished he could drown himself in his tears. But that wouldn't bring her back, and that's not what she would want.

Today he would be sad, today he would cry his eyes out and curse the world. Tonight he would stay with the Weasleys instead of going back to their apartment and looking at her belongings smelling her memories.

Tomorrow could be better, or it could not be. Either way he'd search through for her body, and give her a proper burial.

But today was not tomorrow, today was today and Harry was still dangerously sad. He missed her now more than ever.

A/N Better than before? I'm trying. I've heard more than once before that details are of the essence, this time around I will try and beef things up. But until next edit, reviews?