This story came to me a few nights ago, and it quickly turned into a 30 page long story, with no signs of ending. Subsequently, I decided to post it. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter, and if you feel like dropping a review down my way to tell me if you'd like to see more, I would appreciate it! WARNING: Mature, non-explicit content in this chapter, be warned.

"A shot of whiskey, if you please," Hermione Granger said to the barman as she took a seat in the pub. She vaguely noted that the pub was almost empty, save for a table of ragged looking construction workers, and a hooded man sitting alone at a table across the room. She grabbed a napkin and started to twist it between her fingers, staring angrily at the woodwork of the table. She had apparated to a street she didn't know after finding her boyfriend, Ron Weasley, in their bed with another woman. She scowled, remembering how she stumbled across that particularly unpleasant scene earlier that morning.

Coming home from her work at Windson's Apothecary, she had entered the house expecting to climb into bed with Ron, but as she had walked in she heard the sounds of harsh moaning and grunting coming from her bedroom. As she hurried towards the bedroom, she had wondered about what could be making that sound. Opening the door, she stood facing a very surprised Ron and a big chested blonde, who had squealed and hid under the sheets. Ron's mouth hung open, as he gaped at Hermione and stuttered. Hermione had looked on unable to say anything as she felt the rage boil up. She didn't speak a word, she knew that if she had opened her mouth she would have hexed Ron's bollocks off. Grabbing a suitcase, she had wordlessly thrown a few clothes in a left, apparating to the first place that came to mind.

So, here she was, sitting in a grubby looking pub, Merlin only knew what part of London she was in. She knew it wasn't a wizarding pub, but that was about it. Startled, she looked up as the barman shoved the drink she had ordered down her way. Picking it up, she nodded to the dirty looking man and downed it in one go. Indicating she wanted another, she pushed the glass back towards him.

Returning to her thoughts, Hermione fumed inwardly, the shot of whiskey giving fuel to her anger. How dare that prick cheat on her, after all they had been through. She deserved more than that, and all though her and Ron never connected on a level Hermione would have wanted, she had thought their relationship was worth more than that. He had been her first in everything, first kiss, the one she had eventually given her virginity to. The thought of sleeping with another man hadn't even crossed Hermione's mind, and she couldn't stop the tear that slid down her face at the betrayal she felt. If Ron had wanted to go fuck some whore, he should have ended their relationship. Hermione could deal with Ron not wanting to be with her anymore, but this blatant betrayal left her feeling impossibly angry and heartbroken. The same question had been running through her head as soon as she had stormed out of their apartment. How long had this been going on? Those extra days spent touring with his Quidditch team, were they really required of him, or were they just extra time that he could spend with his mistress? Or mistresses, Hermione thought angrily to herself. Who knew how many whores the man had slept with, or how many he had brought home.

She should have hexed his balls off, and given the stupid, giggly woman in her bed the worst case of warts she had ever seen, and Hermione felt a quick flash of regret at the fact that she didn't retaliate in anyway, just grabbed her things and ran. It was too late now, but Hermione entertained herself for a few minutes with fantasies of Ronald screaming and clutching his crotch in pain, and the blonde girl trying to cover up the warts that sprouted all over her body without abandon. Giggling silently to herself, Hermione shot back another glass of whiskey, and nodded to the barman to keep pouring.

Hermione heaved a sigh, relaxing as she felt the whiskey start to hum in the back of her head. She was never good with alcohol. She didn't care, though, and quickly downed another shot, and another. She wanted to erase the memory of what she had witnessed earlier that evening. Short of obliviating herself, alcohol was the only thing she could access quickly. She could have brewed a potion to erase recent memories, of course, but that would have taken too long. Hermione laughed harshly at that thought. She was hailed as the most brilliant potions mistress of her age, and here she was, sitting in a muggle pub and drinking cheap whiskey because she didn't want to take the time to brew a simple potion.

Oh, the irony, she thought wryly, as she gulped down another shot. She looked around hazily, the whiskey was starting to cloud her vision. She should probably go before she poisoned herself, she reasoned vaguely.

"Oi, are yeh goin' ter pay fer tha'?" The barman asked her roughly, grabbing on to her arm when she had stood up to leave.

Hermione looked up at the man, and blinked blearily. Fumbled in her pockets, she took out a galleon and slammed it on the table. "There's your payment," she slurred and turned to go, but was stopped by the barmans hold on her arm. He hadn't let go, and he yanked her back to the counter.

"Where d'yeh think yer goin'?" he said angrily as he picked the galleon up. "What in the ruddy hell is this shit?" he asked as he waved the galleon in front of her face.

Hermione didn't say anything, and the barman cursed again and dragged her out of the pub, shoving her outside and slamming the door shut. Falling on her knees, she got up, and brushed herself off, ignoring the pain from her kneecaps; she was too belligerent to care, and she stumbled down the grungy streets, not knowing or caring where she was headed.

Hermione wandered the darkening streets, not paying attention to where she was, and turned down an alley, wondering vaguely why the streetlights were gone.

"What 'ave we 'ere?" a raspy voice said.

Hermione looking around slowly, her whiskey-addled mind trying to approximate where the sound had come from.

"Oohh, a pretty little lady!" a deeper voice added eagerly, and Hermione heard the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching her.

She stumbled, and leaned against a wall to support herself. "Who – who's there?" she asked weakly, looking around in the darkness for the people that the voices belonged to.

"Oh, never you mind," the raspy voice said lecherously. "Me and my friend 'ere will take good care of yeh."

The deeper voice laughed, and they sounded closer then they were a few seconds ago.

Hermione slid down the wall, unable to support herself any longer. Gripping the rough surface of the brick wall, she frantically whipped her head around, still trying to locate the owners of the voices.

A pair of rough hands grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her up viciously. "Now now dearie, we're goin' ter be needed yeh on yer feet," the deep voice said.

Hermione looked around wildly, trying to see through the darkness for whomever the voices belonged to. "Stay away from me," she said wildly, as she weakly resisted the hands.

They pushed her against the wall, and she could feel the hot breath that reeked of something foul on her neck. "No, please, stay away," she said frantically, her alcohol clouded brain trying to make sense of what was happening. Scrambling for her wand, she held it shakily out front of her, not even sure if she could cast a spell.

The man with the raspy voice merely laughed at her thrusting the wand out in front of her, and easily pried it from her hands. Throwing the stick aside, he pressed himself against her, his erection prodding her tummy. Hermione weakly tried to hit him as he grabbed her shirt, and yanked down, tearing the light knitting. "Please, don't do this," she sobbed, pushing against the mans chest with little strength. The man laughed again, his breath hot and sticky near her mouth. Hermione knew she had to get the man off her, and screamed in an attempt to scare him. The raspy voiced man slapped his hand over her mouth in response, and Hermione saw stars as her head whipped back against the brick wall of the alley.

The man thrust his thigh between her legs, and his friend laughed as he grabbed Hermione's chest, tearing the fabric even more. Hermione began to cry weakly, unable to defend herself due to her intoxication. She struggled some more, trying to heave the man off her, but she was no match for the brawny man, as he viciously ripped the buttons on her jeans, yanking them off her hip. He slammed her against the wall again, and she screamed once more, nearly blacking out from the pain. Colorful blots appeared in her sight, and she felt the raspy, unshaven cheek of the man who held her brush against her neck, and she pulled away, the faint feeling of disgust rising in her belly.

"C'mon, pretty lady, don't yeh want to see what ah've got for you?" The raspy voice said menacingly, thrusting her back against the wall as he shoved his hand through the band of Hermione's knickers, and yanked them down past her hip, and he gripped the fleshy part of her hip, squeezing so hard that Hermione cried out from pain, and renewed her desperate pleading.

Suddenly there was a flash of red light, and the hands that were squeezing her shoulders were gone.

"Oi! Tom, Tom! What've yeh done ter him?" the raspy voice said frantically.

Another flash of light, and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor.

Hermione peered into the darking, trying to catch a glimpse of whomever was making the lights. Unable to spy anything in the thick darkness, she slid down the wall again as her vision flickered. Her head rolled to the side, and she saw a floating, dull white light coming closer to her. She smiled stupidly, and turned to the side and promptly threw up, retching against the wall, her sides heaving as she emptied her stomach, her insides rolling unpleasantly. Someone stooped and held her copious amounts of bushy hair back as she retched, and Hermione registered the fact vaguely, too preoccupied with how her vision was wavering, and how her stomach kept flipping. Still temulant, she didn't protest when a pair of strong arms lifted her up. Hermione caught the vague scent of sandalwood, and an unknown spice, and passed out.