Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They all belong to JK Rowling.

I hope you enjoy reading this short beginning of my story. You may find along the way that Fenrir Greyback is a little different to how you would imagine him to be. I hope you enjoy reading though. :)

"Young men's love then lies,

Not truly in their hearts,

But in their eyes."

"Hello, beau'iful," the snatcher drawled lazily, leaning against a tree and holding his scarf, no her scarf, to his nose. He smirked at her seductively, his eyes piercing hers. Hermione stumbled back a few steps, breathing heavily, trying to remain calm. Losing her head would certainly not help the situation. She saw more snatchers appear out of the corner of her eye; they were completely surrounded.

She glanced at Harry, whose was on her left, and saw him nod slightly in her direction, his eyes wide. She in turn tilted her chin up slightly. She knew what he was thinking; they were going to run. And run they did. Fast.

"Well don' hang abou', snatch 'em!" was all she heard before the cracking of twigs and leaves, and her heart beating wildly rang in her ears. There was no other sound, no shouting, just hearts beating fast, and shoes hitting twigs. For once, she didn't think about the boys as she ran from the snatchers; she knew what would happen to her, a Mudblood, if she was caught. It was no secret that people like her, especially the women, were used as toys. Still, her heart lurched as she heard Ron shout and fall. From all the shouting and cursing now though, she could tell Harry was still running. He drew level with her as she blindly fired spell after spell over her shoulder. He grabbed her hand and they ran together, neither saying a word.

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure race along near her. She turned her head and raised her wand, intending to fire a spell at him, but instead of raising his wand to defend himself, he pointed ahead, one end of his mouth turned up so he looked like he was almost smiling. Hermione frowned, confused, but followed his finger; a few metres from where she was, a cliff edge loomed. She halted suddenly and spun round, breathing heavily and looking around wildly for another way to run to. An escape. There was nowhere; they were trapped. She was too distracted, her mind racing, to notice that the dark figure had also stopped moving, but made no attempt to catch her or Harry. He watched her intently, amused even at how, even though she was indefinitely trapped, she still sought to get out, to be safe. She was like a beautiful bird, trapped in a cage, flying around desperately for the exit. Yes, a very beautiful bird. He raised his dark eyebrows, however, when he saw her finally turn on the boy and raise her wand to his face. He saw her mutter a few words and a bright light erupt from the end of her wand. The boy fell to the floor. Maybe she was so desperate to escape, she had turned on the one she had previously been trying to save. But moments later, he sat up, whispering urgently to the pretty girl. The watcher couldn't make out clearly what he was saying as his face was turned from his place of hiding, but he made out enough words to realise that the boy was talking of the Dark Lord. So, the boy and the Dark Lord really did have a connection. That was interesting. Before the figure could consider that idea anymore, his fellow snatchers appeared, out of breath but still able to pull off a smirk. He took this as his moment to emerge from his hiding place, and grab the Weasley boy from one of the other snatcher's. Their 'leader', Scabior, pulled up the Potter boy (the watcher noted that his glasses had been removed) and practically threw him at the nearest man, not caring who as he was too distracted by the girl, looking her up and down as another man pulled her to her feet. A smirk slowly formed on his face. The watcher felt himself stiffen slightly and a low growl make it's way to his lips as he saw Scabior watch her; he had already decided the girl was his, and he didn't like other people taking what was his. The girl kept her chin up, but eyes down, brave but terrified. Scabior reached out a ringed finger and stroked her cheek, surprisingly gentle for a man like him. Even so, she flinched slightly.

"Don't touch her!" the Weasley boy in the watcher's grasp called out suddenly. It was brave of him, but he got a punch in the stomach from his captor; she certainly wasn't the Weasley boy's either, he thought savagely.

"Wha's your name, beau'iful?" Scabior whispered into her ear, almost seductively, ignoring the boy's outburst.

"Penelope Clearwater," Hermione answered in a clear but small voice; she was silently praying that the stinging jinx would be enough to protect Harry. The snatcher nodded and looked her up and down again, smirking.

"Check the list," was all he said, before moving towards Harry. Hermione's heart beat faster as she heard Harry give his cousin's name. She closed her eyes in anguish as she heard a snatcher say it wasn't on the list, and the leader ask again who he was. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she heard the snatcher say they would be taken to Malfoy Manor. They knew. They were caught. It was all over. They had failed.

"From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

Hermione kept her head down throughout the whole journey; throughout the apparating and the long walk up to the main gates of Malfoy Manor. When they finally reached the gate, she looked up and saw Scabior exchange a few words with Bellatrix Lestrange. Her heart sank and beat faster at the same time; there was no knowing what Bellatrix would do to her, what special torture she had saved just for someone like her.

The watcher had, of course, watched the girl the whole time. It had been easy to do as he had managed to make sure he was the one to guard her. She was surprisingly quiet, like she had already accepted what was going to happen to her. This disappointed him slightly as he had wished to see some of that Gryffindor courage that they were renowned for. It would have made the journey… Interesting. He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her through the gates, following those infront. All the Malfoy's were present as well as Bellatrix; there was no sign of the Dark Lord.

Hermione could feel her captor watching her, but she refused to look at him, imagining that his face was lined with menace and sadistic glee as he thought of all the ways in which he could make her suffer. She didn't dare move, didn't dare speak or look up as she heard the great doors close behind them. There was no way out. Harry was on his knees infront of her, his back to her, and Draco Malfoy was being almost forced forward by his father. Hermione felt an almost sick twinge of pity for him; he looked so terrified.

"I can't - I can't be sure," Draco stuttered before turning away, probably trying to block from his sight what he could not from his mind; It was his words that would condemn the man he had known half his life before him, if he didn't choose them carefully. Hermione then sensed something standing infront of her; something menacing. She looked up, and into the eyes of madness itself. Bellatrix Lestrange was addressing her, and in her hand, was the sword of Gryffindor.

"Lock the boys in the cellar... I think it's time I had a little talk with this one, girl to girl!" Bellatrix hissed as Hermione drew in a shuddering breath, unable to move backwards due to the tall man behind her; the watcher.

The red-headed boy was calling out for her, almost screaming.

"Hermione! Hermione!" Ah, Hermione, yes that was her name. It was beautiful and uncommon, just like her. He turned back to her as he heard her whimper. She refused to sob, no matter how terrified she was. Bellatrix circled her, like an animal inspecting its prey. "Did you steal it?" She whispered softly, stopping just in front of Hermione. Hermione raised her eyes to Bellatrix's bravely.

"No."

The watcher winced slightly and almost growled as Bellatrix slapped her, hard. The force and suddenness of the attack sent Hermione falling to the floor and before she could even recover, she was writhing around in pain as Bellatrix held her under the Cruciatus Curse. Only what seemed like mere moments later though, Bellatrix was straddling her, pinning her hands either side of her head and hissed again, "What did you take from my vault, you filthy little mudblood?"

"No, no I swear, please! We didn't take anything! It's a copy!"

The last word turned into a scream as Bellatrix produced a small silver knife and wrenched the girls sleeve up, beginning to carve something into the skin of her exposed arm. Hermione screamed and tried to kick her legs out. The scream, full of anguish and despair, rang off the walls and echoed down the corridors; no-one was deaf to it.

The watcher had to keep his eyes fixed ahead, for if he saw the agony on the young girls face, he would have attacked Bellatrix in a second. Even hearing her screams nearly sent him into a rage. He found himself wondering why he wanted to protect her. It's because she's mine, he thought, that's my instinct. His mouth turned up slightly at one end as he found himself making excuses for wanting her. No-one would question it, no-one would question him. He could not stop himself however taking a quick glance at her. Bellatrix had moved off her, her earlier orders to have the goblin brought up obeyed and was currently interrogating him.

The girl, Hermione, was for the first time looking right at him, tears streaming down her face and complete and utter sadness and pleading in her deep chocolate-whiskey coloured eyes. Her face then turned to one of horror as she saw his smile.

She thought he was smiling at her pain.

There is not one person in this room with any sense of humanity, she thought, her heart sinking even further, if that was possible.

"Well, is it the true sword?" Bellatrix was still pacing infront of the statue-still goblin.

"No, it is a fake," He replied, quite calmly. Bellatrix stopped pacing and bowed her head slightly to study the goblin.

"Are you sure?" She hissed. "Quite sure?"

The goblin merely nodded and a strange look of relief washed over Bellatrix's features. Returning to her upright position, she addressed the room triumphantly.

"And now, we call the Dark Lord!"

And she yanked up her sleeve to press her finger to her Dark Mark. He would soon be coming and all hope, if there even was any, was lost.

"And I think, we can dispose of the Mudblood" Bellatrix said, with a sneer as she looked down at Hermione, "Greyback, take her if you want her."

Before Hermione could even turn to see who or where Greyback was, Ron had burst into the room, causing her every single head in that room to turn his way. And there it was; that tiny flicker of hope in Hermione's heart. She allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up slightly into a small smile, when suddenly she was being pulled up from the floor and into someone's arms. Summoning what little hope and strength she had, Hermione screamed and struggled, hitting, pushing and kicking but to no avail. Her captor just tightened their hold and turned, walking away from the now ongoing battle between the remaining occupants of the room. Hermione began to sob and cry out for anyone as she was taken away by God knows who, and the great doors grow bigger. Then she was through the doors. Then she felt the beginnings of apparition. Then she was in that awful house no longer. She never stopped fighting or screaming once.