Chapter 1

Her body was bruised and caked with dried blood. She was limping horribly as she made her way out of the rubble. She should have been in pain but after 27 months of torture, she had began to feel a permanent numbness that, at the moment she was grateful for.

She was tired as well. She couldn't have been older than 23, but she looked old beyond her years. Her once bright toffee eyes were now dull and lifeless. All together, she bore little resemblance to the woman she'd been just 3 years before.

No, at this moment no one would recognize Hermione Granger.

3 Months Later

Severus Snape was sitting in his office in the rehabilitation ward of St. Mungo's. He'd worked there ever since the temporary closing of Hogwarts several months prior. The good thing about majoring in Potions opposed to the Dark Arts, he mused, is that I can always find work. Even before the conclusion of the Second War, Snape's talent for restorative potions were in high demand.

And at the moment, he was waiting for the first patient of the day.

A man, leading a young woman came through Severus' doorway.

"Here's another one for you," the man gently nudged the girl forward. Her head was bowed low and her hair covered her face completely.

"Details?" Snape asked, exasperation showed through his voice.

"She was found hiding out near the remains of the Headquarters. She displays signs of being under both the Crustacius and the Imperious Curses for long periods of time over the course of at least two years. She's definitely been sexually abused and assaulted numerous times, periodically it seems."

"Ah ha," said Snape with an air of indifference. "Status?"

"Excuse me?"

Snape sighed. He was dealing with an idiot. "Is she a witch, a muggle, a squib, what?"

The man, his nametag said Barry, was shocked at Snape's meaness. "Oh, well, there's no question about it. She's a witch. A damn good one once, but as with most victims her powers have diminished. The powers she has retained are at best unpredictable and at worse, erratic."

Snape nodded. An unfamiliar wave of pity swept over him.

"You can go." He dismissed the lackey with a wave of his hand.

After the door closed Snape thought for a moment. These types of patients were always the hardest to treat. Of course their bodies would heal, it was their minds he worried about. He was just about to write out her prescription when she looked up at him. For a moment he caught her gaze.

"I know you," she murmured.

And then she collapsed.