DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognize is J.K Rowling's... I took some dialogue from the novel here, so please don't sue me :P

Desperation. She distinctly remembered desperation as they packed up their belongings in a rucksack, leaving all menial things behind. No teddy bears or photos, no keepsakes. Wands, healing potions, oils and herbs were most important, then came the tent, food and water. Everything else filed in after that (blankets, clothes, etc). She remembered a heavy, dark sense of foreboding, but had ignored the feeling, equating it to nervousness. After all, the fact that they had chosen to go into hiding, despite her father's job at the Ministry, spoke volumes. Things were going to change. And they had. The dark cloaked figures had come to their house in the night, breaking down the door, only just missing them as they Apparated. Though her parents had said nothing, Nim knew only half of what had meant to be packed actually was.

Why did we go back, Nim? Were the pictures really that important?

She knew they weren't. In fact, she knew they were trouble… But she couldn't stop the burning desire she had to collect the old photos; if only to obtain a small piece of their bright, happy past. Her parents had been dead for months now, she was certain the house would be abandoned if not destroyed. What would Death Eaters want with a young witch and barely registered six year-old anyway? They were Half-Bloods. Granted, not very popular within the Dark Lord's exclusive community, but unimportant nonetheless. It was her parents they had wanted. At least, that was what she had rationalized.

"Come out to play, girlie?" Lestrange giggled manically. "You know, I heard what Dawlish did to them, your traitorous parents. They had it a long time coming, if you ask me. And now, you'll get to see them both again. Won't you, you filthy Blood Traitor?"

The psychotic witch had arrived shortly after they'd found the box of family photos. Apparently, the You-Know-Who wanted all people that were part of, or had ties to the Order, dead… No matter their age.

Getting up from bed, Nim made her way into the small kitchenette, her right shoulder tingling and prickling. Closing her eyes, the young witch attempted to obtain a blank mind, though her thoughts continued to linger on that day. It was like she was there, like she could feel the old floorboards creaking as someone else entered the house, like she could feel her heart thundering in her chest so loudly she was certain the intruder would hear it. In an act of desperation, she remembered holding her breath as the person drew nearer, keeping the Willa as close to her chest as possible. And yet, innately, she knew there was no chance of escaping unscathed.

In the present, Nim could feel her windpipe start to contract unpleasantly as she cradled her head in her hands, breathing deeply. Even now she could feel Willa's small body pressed against her side, the young girl's small whimpers and her own whispered reassurances. Empty reassurances. Because that's all words really were, Nim thought bitterly, empty promises.

Absently, her left arm came across her chest, her fingers pushing back the oversized sweater and t-shirt she wore revealing discoloured, unhealthy, scarred skin. She pressed her long appendages to the letters she knew had been carved into her shoulder, to the word that would mark her until death: Traitor. But that moment of bitter remembrance passed as quickly as it had come, and the young woman forcefully pulled herself from her reveries, letting her hands drop back into her lap.

She didn't linger for long. In less than an hour the wood looked like it had never seen the existence of a human. Deciding to go on foot for a spell, Nim bravely trekked on, waiting until as late as midday to finally Apparate. As soon as she did, she looked around, as per usual, before walking on, trying to find a suitable place to camp for the night. She walked for a good hour, always finding some small, pathetic excuse with every bit of land she passed: too rocky, too many trees, not enough trees, too close to water, etc. Nim didn't really know why she liked to walk, but she did. She walked well into the night, too numb to care about how vulnerable she made herself to be. She didn't want to settle down somewhere, didn't want to sleep… Didn't want to dream.

That's when she heard it.

"We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!" Immediately thinking herself in danger, the young woman quickly snapped out of whatever mindless trance she had been in for the past day, her eyes alert and body tensed as she realized that no one was after her, but they were after people who were incredibly close by.

The next thing to be heard was a bang, and then a flash of white light about ten feet to her right. The young woman pulled her wand from her left sock and carefully, quietly, attempted to maneuver herself closer to the people. She listened hard, easily recognizing the voice of the infamous Fenrir Greyback as he spoke to his latest victims. Nim took a shaky breath. Though not Bellatrix or Dawlish, the very idea of destroying Greyback seemed just as pleasant. He would never harm another innocent ever again.

Nim could make out three voices, though some had been warped. She did recognize one female and two male though, amidst the dark. Stepping forward, the young witch made the mistake of placing her entire weight of a very dry, very fragile twig hidden under the bed of leaves. In the night, it seemed to echo with the volume of a bomb despite the voices nearby.

Nim held her breath as the entire wood fell silent, her eyes widening as she heard Greyback's distinctly long inhale. Immediately, footsteps began coming her way, and Nim quickly changed her mind, deciding that she didn't want to discover to whom those steps belonged. Not if she didn't have the upper hand. She wasn't ready, she wasn't mentally prepared. She'd get him later.

She was scared, and was pretty sure that made her a coward.

Turning quickly, the young witch broke out into a furious sprint, just barely getting a few feet away before tripping on a wayward stone. Her wand flew out of her hand and she quickly felt herself being harshly dragged up into a standing position, her hair pulled tightly so as to expose her neck and face. She yelled, and quickly began trying to work her way from her captor's grasp, refusing to be caught even when he pulled her more tightly against him, pressing his nose into her neck, his teeth barely grazing her pulse point.

Nim shivered uncomfortably, yelping as she heard his hard, hoarse whisper in her ear. "Knew I smelled something funny." She could not escape the smirk in his voice and she bit her lip, attempting to calm herself as she was dragged back to the other Snatchers. The area they were standing in was only illuminated by wandlight, but even then Nim could see that she was in trouble. There were already four people captured, and she was obviously to be the fifth. Gritting her teeth to stop the whimper from escaping her lips, the young woman found herself wishing she was dead. She had heard stories about Fenrir Greyback, and was certain that a death even at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange would be more pleasant. "Pretty little thing." She heard him breathe into her hair before he took a long inhale of her. "Divine."

She heard a couple of the Snatchers chuckling at the werewolf's antics, and it was all she could do not to scream, especially when he turned her around roughly, squeezing his body into hers, their faces mere inches apart. She could see every blemish on his disgusting, hairy face. Every scar. Every crease in his skin. He smiled at her sickeningly, his rancid breath almost too much to bear as the young woman took deep breaths in an attempt to remain level-headed. "We'll have some fun, you and me." He growled, once again inhaling at her neck. He pulled away then, looking over her shoulder. "Check this one as well, while you're at it! What's your name, pet?"

She didn't know how or why, but she spat in his face, taking his second of shock to rear back her head and smash her skull against his. She soon found herself on the floor, her head throbbing painfully as she scrambled away into the darkness, reaching for her wand only to realize it was not there. "Accio wand."

But then it was.

And then, another wand was pointing at her throat, her own was ripped form her hands, and Fenrir Greyback was dragging her by her short, dark, curly hair, back to the others. She couldn't help herself: she screamed, the sound only stopping as the werewolf's hand met the side of her face, hard. She yelped, her chest heaving as Greyback met her on the forest floor, eyes glinting in the wandlight as he sneered at her. "You're a lot more trouble than you're worth I think, love." She whimpered as his hands caressed her throat, her eyes shutting as she tried to convince herself it was all a dream. She was really asleep in her old house, her sister was in the next room, her parents were across the hall. But Greyback shook her by her collar, growling at her. "Who are you?" he demanded.

She did not know why she didn't lie, but the words came from her lips pure and truthful as ever: "Nimue Blanchefleur."

And then a sick chuckle, the kind of sound that makes you want to pull your hair out and make yourself deaf. The kind of sound that only brings certain doom. "Blanchefleur, eh? French, I believe."

She didn't answer, only flinching as he got as close to her left ear as he could, gently nibbling on her lobe. She mashed her lips together to keep quiet as he delivered the most sickening news of all:

"Dear Bella will be oh so pleased to see you."

He knew.

It only took a moment for the shock to wear off, and when it did, the young witch struggled harder than ever. It was one thing to face Bellatrix armed… it was another to be brought in as a prisoner, God knows where.

A cold, dead body. A bloody mess. "Willa!" A scream. "Willa! WILLA!" She threw herself to the ground beside her sister, taking the younger witch's hand. "No. No, Willa. No, you can't leave me here. You can't- WILLA!" She was crying, and it was in that moment, when she was at her most vulnerable, that she felt long fingernails against her back, a whispered voice in her ear, mocking her: "So sorry."

Laughter. "Oh Nim, so naïve… So, stupid. Just like Mummy and Daddy. And Little Willa. Little innocent Willa." A pause. "Why did you let her die, Nim?"

"Shut up."

Bellatrix giggled. Like it was all a game. Like everything was all some big joke. Only Nim wasn't in on it. Nim was the punch line. "Oh? Don't like what I'm saying?" The Death Eater had grabbed her, dragging her hysteric body away from that of her sister. "I killed your sister, Nim. And you let me do it."

"No, NO, I didn't. I swear, I didn't. WILLA! NO! Let GO! WILLA!"

"You sick Traitor, you DID! You let her die, stupid girl. It's over! Don't you understand? They're all dead."

And then Nim screamed, she tripped the woman with lidded eyes and quickly jumped on top of her fallen body, taking her wand out form her left sock and pointing it at the woman's throat, sneering at her. "SHUT UP!" She screamed. "Y-You're gonna pay for it. I'll make you pay for it."

Another amused chuckle. "Do it." She challenged.

Nim paused. And in that second it took for her to pause, dear Bella flipped her on her stomach, exposing her back and tore her flimsy shirt, sitting on her in an attempt to stop her thrashing. But she didn't stop, and it was that that pushed the Death Eater to find a way to quiet the young witch: "Crucio!"

And then blinding white, hot, unbearable pain. And then it was over. And then Nim found herself struggling for breath, though unable to move her limbs. Her body was exhausted.

More screaming as she felt the skin of her back slice open again and again and again.

Done.

Nim felt Bellatrix get up, knew she was standing only feet behind her, wand pointed and at the ready. "Traitor." Bella spat on her and Nim flinched.

And then, in some insane act of both courage and stupidity, Nim forced herself to slide down the dusty floor and trip the Death Eater one last time, giving her enough time to get her wand and use it. "Stupefy!"

And then she and her sister were gone.

She was paralyzed, her mind racing in one hundred and one directions as she was tossed into the circle of snatchers, her body landing loudly on the forest floor before she scrambled to her feet, unceremoniously nudging people as she attempted to right herself. "Not a bad little haul for one night." Greyback was saying, "A Mudblood, a runaway goblin, and four truants. You checked their names yet, Scaboir?"

"Four? You said there was only three-"

"Well now we've got one more." The werewolf snarled, barely acknowledging the shaking Nim as she attempted to think clearly. She needed some sort of plan, she needed to escape somehow… Because she'd be no use to anybody in the hands of Death Eaters. Taking a few deep breaths, the young woman tried to organize her thoughts, her own eyes meeting various others pairs as crashing from the tent behind them sounded in a sort of disorganized symphony.

"Blanchefleur? Ain't that the one-"

"Yes," Greyback hissed impatiently, "Now get on with it!"

There had to be something wrong with her hearing. She kept going in and out, barely listening. The only thing she seemed able to focus on was the crystal clear image of her mother and father dead on the floor, along with the screams of her sister in the background. All this work, all this effort to stay hidden, to try and make something of herself and be a person of whom her family could be proud, wherever they were… All gone. With one stupid mistake. She knew, she knew she should've been more careful. She knew it was a bad idea to dwell. And now, it had all gone to hell, She realized, the sickening realization sinking to the pit of her stomach. She'd die just like her family.

Nim was so lost in her own mind that she barely even registered the fact that she had been staring at the same spot for ages. Consequently, She didn't know what was going on until it became of startling interest. "Hey! Look at this, Greyback!"

The Sword of Gryffindor.

Nim knew not of many of the secrets regarding Hogwarts School. She'd only been there for a short time, and had not had time to explore the mysterious castle. However, the Sword of Gryffindor was on of the few things that she had a detailed knowledge of. The first and possibly most important fact being that the sword, the real sword, would only appear to a worthy Gryffindor in need of it.

And Nim could think of only one worthy person who would need the sword at the present moment.

"Harry Potter." She breathed.

Desperately, Nim forced her eyes open further, her face swollen and hurting from her encounter with Greyback. With renewed hope, she frantically searched for the pair of green orbs she knew had to be close. And though she didn't find them in the dark, it did not stop the warm feeling from rising in her chest. He had to be here. She knew he did. She also knew that if Harry was here, Ron and Hermione weren't far behind… And if Willa could not be saved, then Harry Potter and his mates would be.

And so, with renewed strength and vigor, the young woman set her shoulders and raised her chin defiantly, preparing herself for both mentally and physically for any sort of blow she'd have to endure in order to protect their Last Hope. She would not fail this time.

"'Ermione Granger, the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with 'Arry Potter."

And then it all happened very quickly. With Hermione discovered, Harry wasn't difficult to pick out. Even Nim, who's right eye was half swollen shut could pick out the trio in the dark. And once The Boy Who Lived yelled out: "Don't touch it!" The theory had been confirmed:

Greyback and his Snatchers had indeed caught Harry Potter.

Without a chance to prove herself, Nim had once again failed. She'd been too slow- too dim-witted. How could she have missed it, even in the dark? How could she have missed the one detail that was sure to secure her vengeance and justice? She'd come to her groundbreaking realization at about the same time as her captors, of course failure had been inevitable.

She had to do something.

But there was nothing to be done, she realized as she wracked her brain. There was nothing she could do. It was over.

Dear Bella will be oh so pleased to see you.

Mulling over the sentence in her mind, the young woman bit her lip, barely struggling against the hold the Snatchers now had her in. They were going somewhere dangerous, to be sure. To the Headquarters of the other side.

Dear Bella will be oh so pleased to see you.

Knowing the Death Eater's penchant for games and torture, Nim felt her heart race. Maybe, it wasn't over, not just yet…

All she had to do now was bide her time.

Quick post before bed, so I hope you guys liked this one. I kinda did :)

Thank you to all my readers and the very few people who have reviewed: fredandgeorgeweaslywife101 and Keiba Namid. PLEASE REVIEW GUYS! It gives me a feel of how many people are actually interested, and it makes me smile. It's also really good to hear what you have to say about this. Any comments and/or criticisms are welcome :)