AN: This story was originally posted on Hawthorne & Vine and I am reviving it here. It will be about 24 chapters which I hope to publish weekly. Feedback is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy! Note that I am not JK Rowling and claim no ownership or copyright of her material.

4/8 - I fixed some of the formatting errors in this chapter.

The screaming paused, as it had every minute that had felt like an hour prior, but it did not resume this time. A moment before, Ron would have given anything for it to stop. Now, he thought he'd give anything to hear it start back up; he could think of one reason Hermione's screams would have been cut off, and that reason was far worse than the screams had been. His bloodshot eyes were saucers, utterly full of panic as he glanced towards Harry and gasped out only "Hermione." Harry mustered out a "maybe she was rescued" but his tone belied his words. Tears carved tracks through the grime on Ron's face as he fell silent, praying he might hear something, anything that meant she was alive. He prayed she was silent because she'd betrayed the Order, prayed he could take her place, prayed anything as long as her silence wasn't permanent.

In the interludes between the Cruciatus, Bella made a passing attempt to extract information from her victim. Draco stood against a wall, trying to decide whether he hoped she caved and made the screaming stop or whether he hoped she might hold out and with her sacrifice permit the resistance against the Dark Lord to continue. His internal monologue was whispered in the back of his mind; his main focus was on blocking out the awful reality of what was happening. This was usually his main focus, his consciousness sent out to play in the back like a neglected child.

It took him a moment to realize that this interlude was different. Hermione's face had gone slack when the seizures stopped, and she looked confused rather than defiant. Draco didn't hear Bella's question, he only saw the utter confusion on the face of the bleeding, shaking girl on the floor. She opened her mouth, grimaced and gently shook her head. Despite the madness that seemed to course through her veins in lieu of blood, his aunt also seemed to note the difference. She cocked her head to the side, like a curious dog. A curious, rabid dog, Draco amended. He couldn't see her eyes, but was sure they looked on with crazed, predatory intent.

She knelt down by the girl and cooed. Draco flinched at her tone; a gentle Aunt Bella was an unknown Aunt Bella and she was unpredictable at the best of times. "Do you know who I am little girl?" Hermione closed her eyes, and her face scrunched in a mockery of her usual concentrating face-the pain did that, Draco guessed. "You seem familiar, maybe?" Hermione murmured. There was a long pause. "But no, I don't know." Her tone was guileless, nothing like the defiance she had displayed earlier. Bella whirled suddenly towards Draco. "Little Draco, maybe you could see if our friend is lying?" Draco nodded stiffly. If the Cruciatus really had wiped her mind… well, Bella would probably just kill her then. The thought made him feel heavier and sadder than he'd have expected.

His body was well-trained in the art of obeying while his mind continued its wandering, and he soon found himself kneeling by his former classmate. He scooped her head in his hand, lifting it slightly so he could look into her eyes. She whimpered in pain, and he chided himself for making her last moments worse than they had to be. Her eyes narrowed at him slightly, but not in the judgmental way he was used to. It seemed as if she were trying to place him, but couldn't quite manage. He couldn't decide if the feeling that elicited was relief or sorrow. Probably neither.

He thought about saying something to comfort her, but couldn't think of what to say that would actually help or get him killed in the processes. Instead, he let his consciousness slip into hers. She made no attempt to block him as he rummaged through her thoughts. Her uppermost thoughts which mostly consisted of pain, wondering about the source of the pain. Confusion as to why she was surrounded by faces she only vaguely recognized. He delved deeper, but she threw up no defenses-his second sign that something was, indeed, wrong. He traveled into what he considered the core of the mind, where the memories were kept; it wasn't usually this easy to penetrate, except with, perhaps, a child who knew no better.

Hermione's mind was incredibly organized. His Legilimens-self snorted. She'd organized her mind into a library-of course she had. Looking closer at the shelves, he realized they were organized chronologically, although she had special shelved dedicated to particular subjects. He bypassed 'potions' and 'transfiguration' and grabbed a book at random from the shelf marked 'first year'. He flipped it open and saw images of the Great Hall during the sorting ceremony. The warm memory almost made him forget that, in reality, he was kneeling over what would soon be her corpse. He flipped the page. It was blank. Curious, he thumbed the edge so the pages cascaded quickly by. A few pages were full and colored, but mostly they were blank. Draco sighed and repeated the exercise with another tome to the same effect. The Cruciatus had ripped away random memories, leaving a confused shell of a person. Who would soon cease to be even that.

Draco was about to exit and deliver the report that would probably doom her, when his previous thought "random memories" started echoing in his mind like alarm bells. He started flipping through the current book again, and then the one previous. He hadn't seen any reference to Ron, Harry, Dumbledore even despite their prevalence in surely every aspect of the golden girl's life. There were no references to him, or the Death Eaters either. He darted to the next shelf, rummaged through books in year 4 to confirm. The Triwizard Tournament was there, but only a handful of her memories-innocuous, like the Yule Ball with Krum-remained. "Clever girl," he murmured to himself. He didn't know if it had been conscious or not-probably had, given that she is the brightest witch and all that-but she'd removed all references her mind had to the current conflict. So she couldn't betray them, even if she was too weakened by the pain to resist Legilimency, he realized.

He stood, motionless, in her mind for a while longer. He was impressed both that she'd figured out how to do it-channel the madness that came with the Cruciatus like a knife to excise her memories-and that she'd had the foresight and bravery to follow through. He stood there for a moment longer, because the longest future she could hope for was as a torture device to urge his companions into submission, and he didn't really want to see that. A strange Granger-built library was much preferable.

Time moved differently in a mind, but finally Draco decided he'd probably been there too long. It was time to face the reality of the world Hermione had trimmed from her mind. Would that he could do the same.

Draco blinked, breaking his connection with the prone girl. Released from his Legilimency, she blinked as well, still with that curious look on her face. Bella, in contrast, looked livid. Well, that was to be expected. She was probably impatient to make someone bleed.

"Well?" she snapped. At least she had given up the creepy baby talk.

Draco answered slowly. In Hermione's mind, the outside world had seemed too distant, immutable, but out here, out here he could change things and an amorphous plan was quickly taking shape in his head. He answered cooly, clinically. "Her memories have been gutted. I'd say she only remembers a hundredth of her life. She's almost a tabula rasa." He tried to say the last part calmly, as if he weren't setting himself up for anything, but he had chosen his words carefully.

Bella pouted, "No answers from the little Mudblood then. Pity. She was going to cry so prettily when she realized she'd betrayed them." She paused. Draco could almost hear the crazed voices whispering suggestions to her. Her eyes flicked back and forth, as if she looked at each invisible voice as it dripped its poison in her ears. "I could maybe just cut off a few pieces and send them to the boys. That would be fun," she finally commented. Her eyes roved over Hermione, who had gone back to looking terrified. Hermione's eyes clawed at him as if he could save her. He hoped he could.

This was it. This was the moment to decide if his hasty plan was worth pursuing. It didn't have an end-game, not really, but he hadn't seen any flaw with this phase of it. Yet. He took a breath and did the bravest thing he'd yet to do; he said, "Actually, Aunt Bella, I have an idea."

His parents' heads snapped towards him. He'd forgotten they were there. A bubble of resentment rose in him; his parents, standing still as statues watching, while he sparred with his mad aunt. He cast a silencing charm around Hermione's prone figure so she wouldn't hear their next words. Although, even if he succeeded, an Obliviate for the last half hour or so would be necessary anyway. "We've just been handed an incredible tool. She doesn't remember Harry, Ron, or even the fight with the Dark Lord. But she's still an immensely powerful witch, dirty blood aside. An immensely powerful witch we can mould into a weapon. And better yet, a weapon our enemies would hesitate to kill." He watched his aunt carefully. She had initially looked despondent at the mere thought of losing her toy, but as he spoke, she perked up. "Yes," she hissed. "A mindless Mudblood weapon. It's almost poetic. The power to control magic back in the hands of its rightful owners." Bella closed her eyes, and swayed slowly as if she danced to the poetry only she could hear. "She'll be my own special pet…"

Draco carefully cut her off, careful not to cringe as her hands involuntarily tightened into claws at the mention of the word pet and tried not to the think of the skinned animals that sometimes littered the manner in her wake. Pets indeed. "Dearest Aunt, surely your efforts are too important to the Dark Lord to spend time trying to go through the tedious, slow process of filling her head with new thoughts." He tried to emphasize the slow part, hoping her natural impatience would act in his favor. Hoping stroking her ego would keep her from making rash decisions.

He schooled his features into a mask of hopeful contrition. "And I do so want an opportunity to prove myself to our Lord. I went to school with her, so I could weave a story that jibes with her remaining memories easily. Such a tedious task might be well suited to me." He stopped there. Brevity was best. Let his Aunt build on his reasoning, decide on her own it was a good idea.

She seemed to ponder for eternity. Finally, she sketched a wicked grin. "Good boy, Little Draco. Finally taking some initiative and not whinging about the wee tasks we've assigned you." She swept her hand to the side in a grandiose gesture of offering; Hermione was his.

Draco nodded his thanks, not daring or bothering to look at his parents. Hermione had passed into a semi-conscious state for all he could tell. He shot a quick Obliviate to remove the discussion after her torture from her broken mind and followed it with a sleeping spell. He waited a few breathes before he knelt beside her, molded his expression into one of concern and whispered the counter-spell. Hermione slowly roused, her eyes fluttering open with a moan. She met his teary eyes after a moment.

He plastered a relieved smile on his face and hoped Bella wasn't leering over his shoulder. "Oh, darling, you're finally awake! How do you feel? I was so worried!" Her eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed, in confusion or pain. Probably both.

"What happened?" Her voice was raspy and tired.

"You got hit by a rogue spell while you were out shopping. For books," he amended, remembering the organization of her mind. "I Apparated you right back home, but didn't want to move you once we were here." He glanced behind him. His parents had moved closer and looked gravely concerned. Possibly concerned for his longevity, possibly they were playing along. Probably the former. Bella looked like a small child being allowed to watch a delightful show, even licking her lips in anticipation. He'd have to come up with a good story to explain her. Or tell Hermione the truth-that she's a crazy old bat.

"I feel so, hazy. Empty," Hermione whimpered. "And I hurt."

"I know, my pet." He wished he hadn't chosen that affectionate term so soon after Bella's comments. "If you're feeling up to it, I'll take you up to your room." She nodded. He cast a spell to make her lighter and carefully gathered her in his arms, murmuring meaningless comfort to her. You'll feel better. I'll take care of you, sweet. The responsibility he'd taken on had started to crush him. He couldn't think of that yet. He had to get out of this room intact first. He winked at his aunt and was rewarded with a demented smirk. He nodded at his parents. One last step: setting up her new story.

As he reached the door, he snapped out to his family. "I want a healer sent up five minutes ago. And then, so help me, I will find out who dared hex my fiancée."