A/N: This is inspired by music. Warning, this may NOT follow the book. Be prepared for: child abuse, Dark Hermione, mild language and probably other stuff I’m forgetting. If you don’t like don’t read. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

Start of fifth year

Hermione sighed, looking out the window of the train. She was happy to be out of that wretched place called her home. Ever since she could remember, she had to fear for her life. Her father wasn’t the nicest person and it did not help that she was a smart mouth. Hermione was glad for this escape, even if it was only for a short amount of time. Of course her father called her a freak that should have never been born. And Hermione took it, all the physical and verbal abuse. She was snapped from her thoughts as the compartment door opened. Hermione tried to cover her face.

“What’s wrong Mudblood, finally realize how ugly you are?” Malfoy sneered. Hermione would not let a single tear fall. The hat had placed her in Gryffindor for a reason. Easily she could have been in Ravenclaw. The hat even considered placing her in Slytherin after seeing her deepest and darkest thoughts. She turned toward Malfoy letting him get a full view of her bruised face.

“Bloody hell Granger! What the hell happened to you?” Draco yelled. Hermione fought back her tears. She couldn’t spill her darkest secret to her worst enemy.

“I-I fell hit my face on something,” Hermione lied. It was a second nature to her. Malfoy was not buying the lie. He knew all too well what could cause a bruise like that. He himself had suffered a blow to the face, the one time he had directly yelled at his father. Draco didn’t understand why he felt concern for her.

“Who did this to you? Was it that Weasel? Or perhaps Saint Potter likes to use his friends as punching bags?” Draco interrogated. Hermione was on the brink of tears. She didn’t want anyone to know, especially Malfoy. Nobody knew of all the times she had been to the hospital for her injuries and twice, she had almost died. Always, Hermione lied about the bruises when she couldn’t cover them. She had distanced herself from everybody, fearing that if they found out and word got back to her father, she would no longer walk upon the Earth. She hadn’t realized that she had begun sobbing.

“My father, my father,” she cried. Draco tried to comprehend what she was telling him. It dawned on him that it was her father. Hermione began to calm down as Draco brushed away her tears. Hermione took a deep breath.

“When did this start Granger?” Draco asked. Hermione looked down, ashamed.

“When I was seven, it began. I had shown magical abilities my whole life, and one day, I broke the television, it’s a muggle invention. My father became so enraged that he started to hit me. My mum just stood there and watched. It seemed the more I cried, the more he enjoyed it. Then, my Hogwarts letter came. I had just come out of the hospital, after I had been in his path of destruction when he lost his job. This summer, it was the worst though. He believed that I was sneaking out, to, to-” Hermione could say no more. Draco understood what she meant. It was this kind of upbringing that created evil wizards and witches. Hermione had a look of guilt in her eyes, as if she had committed some type of crime.

“What did you do, Hermione?” he asked, his voice full of concern. The behavior, so unlike Draco, had come suddenly.

“I accidently killed my mother last night. I had discovered how to use magic undetected. I thought it was my father coming into my room, because my mum always knocked and he never did. In an act of stupidity, I murdered the only person who ever cared about me,” Hermione cried. Draco looked at her in disbelief. How could innocent Granger harbor so much hatred and pain? The train arrived and Draco was scared to leave her. She was in such a fragile state that anything could happen.

Fifth year passed without much concern. However, the events in the Department of Mysteries had left people on both sides of the war confused. Hermione Granger had used two Unforgivable Curses as well as three very dark spells. Draco understood what was happening. It had happened to the Dark Lord of course. When someone had such a horrible childhood that it could cause their soul to become dark, this was known as Acerbus Malum Animus. If someone murdered someone, intentionally or not, before they were sixteen, combined with the horrible childhood, it could spell disaster. The Dark Lord all ready had knowledge of Hermione’s past based off what Draco had told his father. He had plans for her, of course. She could easily be swayed to the dark side. The final part of the soul being changed involved a lot more than murder. It involved acceptance of the darkness inside. Draco thought Hermione had not idea about this but in all truth she knew plenty.

Hermione scrambled around her house. Fifth year had ended just hours ago, and Hermione had just one goal in mind. She would stop at nothing to achieve it. She had a copy of an ancient book, one that Dumbledore didn’t even know of. One other person knew of it, however. Lord Voldemort knew of the book and knew that Hermione had it in her possession. Hermione began reading where she had left off.

‘It has been recorded that only a handful of gifted wizards and witches have Acerbus Malum Animus, for it makes the wizard or witch very dark in their powers .Only powerful wizards and witches can achieve it and it is rarely found in a muggleborn.’ A slamming door pulled Hermione out of her reading. She had her wand at the ready. Her father barged in.

“You little bitch, you killed your mother! You have to pay!” Her father yelled. He hadn’t been home when Hermione killed her mother; he had just left to go work the night shift. Hermione hadn’t known because her father had usually worked mornings. He felt stinging as her father’s hand made contact with her face. She lifted her wand.

“That silly stick won’t help you know, you bitch. You can’t use magic outside of school,” her father said smugly. Hermione raised her wand and yelled “CRUCIO!” She laughed as her father writhed in pain on the floor. The darkness had overtaken her soul. With one last flick of her wand, she murdered her father.

A/N: Already working on chapter 2, this is one story I have a lot of inspiration for, and it came literally out of nowhere.