Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Blasted plot bunnies. Just a note - although this centers around Hermione and Tom, they're not going to become a couple. At least in this story, anyway. Much thanks to Kris who brilliantly betaed this. And on such short notice too. You rock muchly.
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Chapter One: Captured
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Everything was dark and hazy. Nothing appeared solid to her; all blurry and fuzzy, as if she were in a vague dream. Where was she? What was she doing here? If there was a "here." All sorts of questions popped in her mind, intensifying her curiosity with every slowly passing minute.
She tried to recall something; anything she could remember before this sudden fuzziness had come over her. But she couldn't; it was as if someone has had erased every memory and fragment of thought she had. She didn't know who she was, what she was, where and why she was doing here at this - place? - she was at.
The only thing she could identify was that she was at a "place." That was where she was. Vaguely she felt a slip of a name deep in her mind. She was slowly becoming conscious. Her mind was calling . . . Her. . . Her my . . . Hermy . . . Hermione. Hermione! That was her name! She felt a happy dance inside. She remembered her name . . . but that was all she could remember. Try as she might, she couldn't recall her last name or middle name.
She had lost a part of her identity, leaving an empty ache in her. She couldn't remember who she was, who she had been . . . it was as if something had been scratched from her mind. A blankness in her mind that could never be filled. Instantly she felt her happiness dissipate, replaced with a sharp tinge of regret and sadness that pierced her insides. She had no sense of anything. She wasn't sure what to feel, what to say, what to do. Unsure . . . That was the right word; she was unsure. Unsure of everything. She was unsure of exactly who she was, where she was right now, and what she had been.
She couldn't remember ever feeling this way; it was something new, a foreign feeling to her. She had felt nervous and awkward before, yes, but now . . . as she looked at her surroundings at that moment and everything came more sharply into focus, she wasn't so sure. She had always felt so sure about things - after all, she was the perfect know it all and was always right about certain things. 'Certain things' being the keywords here, she thought, smiling wryly.
She, Hermione, might have known every spell, enchantment and potion there was to be known in the world, but she didn't know everything about everything, to be honest. She didn't know about love, she didn't know about death . . . she knew only the harsh bitterness of life. That was all she knew. It existed all around her - in the cold, dark, dank cell she found herself in now, outside, wherever. It didn't matter - it wasn't like she could hide from it. Even in the darkest places you couldn't hide forever. It wouldn't protect you from knowing the truth. That she knew very well . . . and staying in this damp cell didn't change her outlook a bit. It only made her more convinced.
And now she wondered where and why she was there in the cell, with nothing but cold darkness surrounding her. She couldn't recall ever being in this place before. It was something entirely new to her, and she didn't like that feeling. She didn't like the feeling of not having any idea where she was, and why exactly she was there. It left her feeling uneasy, as if something horrible was going to happen at any time, and when she least expected it. The silent feeling of secrecy in the air confirmed her suspicions. She knew she wasn't going mad or imagining it; it was something not to be spoken of, only to be felt. Something was up, she knew, and she couldn't fight that feeling of just simply knowing away.
She decided to investigate - just as long as that prickly feeling went away, she was happy. Curiously the door to her cell wasn't locked; it had been left unlocked. She knew that was strange, for why would her captor - if she had a captor - let her roam about freely? It was a bad move, for she could easily escape; but she doubted right now she would. Even an attempt would bring her down, and her captor's minions - possibly her captor himself too - could catch her trying to run. And then if that happened she would be worse off than she was before. If that happened, she decided to risk it anyway. Knowing more about her surroundings could help her and prove useful in the future.
Slowly she opened the door, being careful not to make it squeak or creak, and let herself slip outside the iron cage she had been in. She breathed deeply. Somehow it felt more refreshing out here outside of her cell than inside the stuffy dankness of it. Looking around now, she felt more alert and questioning. It really was puzzling that while she knew her first name, she knew nothing else. She wanted to know why and where she was, and that this 'here' had to be someplace. Someplace far away from where she had been before.
This, where she was now, reeked of something sinister and a dark silent deceptiveness. It set her on edge, what this sinister and deceptive thing could be - if it was a thing. It made her apprehensive of what was coming next . . . her instincts told her that something would happen soon - very soon. If not, it would happen later. And she guessed she was a part of the 'something' that was going to happen.
Maybe she was part of the evil plan. Her mind's wheels started to click and turn. Piece by piece, bit by bit, all this was starting to fit together. She still had a blind idea of what was going on and whether she was right or not, but she was sure with time everything would fall into place and make sense. And maybe she would remember exactly who she was and know where this place was at, and how she got there. It was only a matter of time.
She exhaled, frustrated. Only a matter of time, she thought. Time could stretch on for seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months . . . most likely even years. She knew she couldn't wait that long to find out something or have something discovered. Maybe it was the impatient side of her; maybe it was because she didn't want to - and she knew she couldn't - wait that long. The sooner she was out, the better. And right now it all depended on whether she could find out anything or not.
The sound of a door slamming - which happened to sound very very close to her - distracted her from her thoughts. A sharp fear came over her and as quickly and quietly she could, she went back into her cell, closing the door gently behind her. She sat down in a far corner and waited, scarcely daring to breathe. One mistaken and wrong move and she would be in danger. That easily, that quickly. And if she didn't know she was in trouble, that would make things a countless times worse. She swallowed back a gulp. Not the right time to show how queasy and tentative with fear she was then.
A swish of robes could be heard - which was suspiciously close to her - and she froze. She sat completely still, not moving - like a statue, she thought wryly. She had the sinking yet hopeful feeling that the person who was in the room besides her was her captor.
"I see you're awake," a clipped voice said.
She looked up. Cold eyes met her unwavering gaze - cold, glittering, resentful eyes. Eyes that she would never be able to forget, no matter how hard she tried.
So this was her captor, she thought with a sharp intake of her breath. Then her mouth chose to act impulsively and get her into trouble - and near to being dead.
"So I am."