Paper Soldier

A/N: I took this down from ff.n then decided to upload it here. Well, I‘m not sure how original this is. Flames and reviews welcomed. Oh right, just a small…

WARNING: This story includes mild self mutilation (In this chapter only), and reference to religion. Please take into account that I’m in no way trying to preach to anyone about religion (I’m was baptized as a Catholic when I was a baby; however, I grew up to be an atheist--much to my mother’s disappointment) If any of the aforementioned offends you in anyway, I’m sorry.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, or “We’re In This Together” by Nine Inch Nails. Concept taken from The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold.

Claimer: A pair of pink shorts with little red and purple flowers all over them, and a fuzzy brown pen with a large monkey head on the end.

Summary: Hermione’s in heaven, literally.

…Paper Soldier…

The farther I fall I’m beside you
As lost as I get I will find you
The deeper the wound I’m inside you
For ever and ever I’m a part of

You and me
We're in this together now
None of them can stop us now
We will make it through somehow
You and me
Even after everything
You're the queen and I’m the king
Nothing else means anything

“We’re In This Together” -- Nine Inch Nails

I don’t remember much about my death, or the time around it. All I know is that it was quick and painless. At least that’s how Dumbledore explained it to Harry and Ron. I remember watching them after. The vision of Harry’s eyes glazing over and Ron falling to the ground still haunts me. I wish I could have been there, or that they could have seen a ghost of me. Anything just to let them know that I was alright and missed them more than they’ll ever know.

I still miss them. Even now as I watch them sleeping. Ron snoring lightly and thrashing about on his bed, and Harry mumbling incoherent sentences from what I can only assume is a nightmare. I imagine running my fingers through Harry’s silky hair and sigh. I love everyone I’ve left behind, but him the most.

Everything about him. Everything he does, or says, or thinks. I’m so proud of how he has handled everything that has happened to him; although, I know that he wishes he didn’t exist at times. I watch as his eyes snap open and he stares blankly at the ceiling. It’s almost as if he can see me, look right through my eyes into my soul. My stomach tightens as he pushes his covers aside and walks into the bathroom.

He stares at his reflection with disgust, his forehead pressed against the cool glass. The pale light coming through the window falls softly across his face, exaggerating his features. His damp hair hangs limply as he pulls away from the mirror and scowls.

“You’re worthless,” he mumbles to the still night air. His gaze lands on Seamus’ razor, and his pale hand reaches for it. I let out a gasp as his knobby fingers bring the blade to rest on his palm. With one swift motion a thin line of blood sprouts out from his index finger to his wrist. I cringe as the familiar stinging of tears enters my eyes.

Why him? Why now? Why wont someone, Ron, Neville--anyone--wake up and stop him? Why is this happening? Why Harry? Why my Harry?

He watches in twisted fascination as his warm blood trickles down his arm. I turn away as he raises the razor again. My vision fuzzes and I no longer see Harry standing bare-chested in the middle of the boy’s bathroom, but Ron’s sleeping form. I shut my eyes and will myself to become solid. A ghost, a voice, mist, anything. I imagine shaking Ron, and my eyes snap open as he lets out a moan and blearily opens his eyes.

He looks around confused before shrugging and turning over. His gaze lands on Harry’s empty bed, and he sits up fully awake. I watch as he stands up and looks around the dormitory uncertainly. There’s a clatter as something falls and he walks slowly towards the bathroom. He pushes the door open and gasps.

Harry is on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest as he rocks back and forth. Tears make their way slowly down his cheeks as he stares at his blood covered hands in astonishment. The razor lays several feet away, gleaming dangerously on the tiled floor.

“Wh--What the Hell were you doing?” Ron asks shakily. “Better yet, what the bloody Hell were you thinking?!”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles as he buries his face in his hands. “I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking.”

Ron just stares at him in disbelief. My shoulders shake with the effort it takes not to scream. I want to reach out and strangle Harry for being so stupid. So desperate for a way out.

“I saw her,” Harry whispers. His voice is so low that Ron has to kneel before him to hear. “In my dream. I was fighting Voldermont, then nothing. I was suddenly laying in a field, and when I sat up she was there. She was just standing there, smiling.”

“C’mon,” Ron says quietly as he helps Harry up. I feel a dull ache in my chest as Ron helps Harry wash and bandage his hands. Ron watches sadly as Harry walks back to his bed. Turning back, Ron bends down and picks up the razor. He stares at it oddly before chucking it in the garbage and going to bed. I smile through my tears as he pulls the covers over himself. I have never been so proud of him in my entire life.

* * * * * * *

Heaven. It isn’t as grand as I though it would be. It’s nothing but open field with large swaying willows and small streams. I always pictured coming to the big pearly gates and growing wings. I didn’t though. I just sort of woke up, only in heaven. There’s other people here. I thought I spotted Sirius once, but I think I was imagining it.

I met Harry’s mom. She’s my mentor. You get mentors here in heaven; although, I don’t know why. It’s not as if we have to learn to be dead. We already are.

“Hermione,” Lily calls as she makes her way through the knee high grass. I sit up slowly and smile at her.

“Hello,” I say as she seats herself next to me. She turns to look at me and I feel a shiver run down my spine. Harry’s eyes.

“How are you feeling?” She asks quietly, her head tilted to the side. I don’t answer and instead turn my gaze away from her. I watch as a small girl with pigtails chases a boy who looks as if he’s my age. How am I feeling?

Am I sad? Scared? Do I even feel anything? These questions run over and over in my head as the little girl catches the boy. He smiles real huge, reminding me of a clown, and spins her around. I shake my head as her laughter reaches my ears and turn to Lily.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I’m not sure how I feel. Sad, I guess.”

Lily nods her head and pulls her legs to her chest. She turns away from me and stares off into the distance, her eyes glassy.

“I was angry,” she says softly. “I was so mad at God for doing this to me. I wanted to be there, on Earth. Alive. I wanted to watch Harry grow, to be there for him. I was sad, too. I was separated from James when I got here. I still haven’t found him, but I know I will. Someday.”

I watch as a light breeze ruffles her thick red hair. Her yes are closed and a sad smile plays on her pink lips. I reach out and take a hold of her pale hand. She squeezes softly, and I squeeze back.

“I use to watch the two of you,” Lily says after a while. The boy and girl are gone, and an old man with pepper gray hair is looking up at the sky. “You and Harry.”

“Oh,” I say, unsure of what to say next.

“He used to smile so much around you,” She says turning to look at me. “Whenever you’d walk into a room I’d see the way his eyes would light up. He was happy. You made him happy. Thank you.”

I shrug my shoulder and wipe the tears from my face with my free hand. “No problem,” I hiccup. Lily laughs and envelopes me in a hug. Both of us a tangle of limbs and tears with runny noses.

* * * * * * *

My eyes snap open as my body jerks. My heart is racing, and my breathing coming in short gasps. A nightmare. It was just a nightmare, I remind myself as I push up from the dry ground. I reach up a shaky hand and wipe the tears that have formed in the crevices of my eyes. Small, salted droplets of water. I let out a shaky sigh and lean back, resting on my elbows.

It had felt so real. The grip on my arms, the intense pain on my inner thigh. The steely glares and crude jeers, they all seemed to be so real. What if it had happened? I don’t remember anything about my death, and it can very well be a memory. A cold shiver runs down my spine, and I roll onto my side. The soft sound of crickets and the humming of the grass swaying in the breeze send me into a fitful sleep.

“Hermione!” A deep voice calls as I make my way down the stone steps of Hogwarts. I turn around in time to see a black haired friend of mine making his way out the massive oak doors. They close behind him with a soft thud, and he smiles as he reaches me.

“Hey,” I grin sheepishly. My heart rate increases, and a flush works its way up my cheeks. We walk in silence along the shore of the lake, neither of us needing any words. Harry stops suddenly, his hand snaking down my arm to wrap protectively around my mitten covered hand.

“Do you hear that?” He asks, pulling his wand out. A sudden burst of light, yelling, and everything gets fuzzy. I feel Harry slump beside me as my world turns black. White, blue, a faint yellow. The colors swirl in odd patterns. I’m reminded of when I was little, looking through kaleidoscopes on hot Summer nights. My eyes flutter open and I’m met with dim torch light. Sitting up I realize I’m in a dungeon. My body shakes as I pull myself up.

“Acbee,” A rattling voice calls from a dark corner. “She’s awake.”

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Acbee answers, stepping into the light. “Get her out and ready for our Lord.”

I’m pulled violently to my feet, a dull pounding crawling slowly through my head, intensifying with every passing second. My vision spins and I fall forward, a foul stench reaching my nose as I empty my stomach on the hay covered ground. Acbee laughs and squats down before me. He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head back.

“It’s a pity he wants you to stay pure,” He says with a shake of his head. “But don’t worry, Princess, we get you after.”

My eyes sting as tears make there way down my cheeks. Acbee grins and leans down, his lips crashing on mine in a bruising kiss. I whimper, and try to pull back. His hand snakes down to take hold of my-

“Baby, wake up,” Lily pleads frantically. I sit up quickly, my arms flying around her neck. I hold her tightly as strangled sobs barely escaping my throat. “Oh, you poor thing.”

“I…I remember,” I choke out as Lily rocks me gently. “I’m staring to…”

“Hush, Baby,” she says softly, placing feather light kisses atop my head. “It’s ok, you’re safe.”

We sit there for quite some time. Me crying, Lily comforting.

* * * * * * *

“Do you believe in God?” Ron asks as he and Harry stare out at the lake. Harry shrugs his shoulders and throws the last of the orange peels onto the lakes surface. They sit in silence as the peels sink slowly, fading away into a hazy darkness.

“Do you believe in him?” Harry asks as he brings his cup to his lips.

“No,” Ron answers. He looks at Harry before shaking his head slowly. “Sometimes I try to believe. Pretend he exists, that there is something out there. Mum’s always trying to get me to read the Bible and pray.”

“I’ve never prayed,” Harry says softly. I fidget uncomfortably as he reaches to scratch his knee. He and Ron have been sitting on the large boulders talking all day. It almost seems impossible that the conversation will end.

“You’ve never once prayed?” Ron asks, surprise and amazement evident in his voice.

“The Dursley’s aren’t exactly the religious type,” Harry shrugs. I sigh softly, wishing I could reach out to them. “Have you ever prayed?”

“Yes.”

“What’s it like?” Harry asks with a childlike innocence. A dull pain in my chest signals a change, and my vision blurs.

A room. So completely bare. Bright white walls, hardwood floor, and a bay window over looking the foamy waves of the ocean. My father steps into the room, his face blank off all emotion. He traces the walls, imagining what use to be.

“Richard?” My mother says softly, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder. An iron grip takes hold of my heart, and I double over. Tears threaten to spill as my father turns and buries his head in the crook of my mothers neck.

“She’s gone,” He chokes out, his voice muffled in her hair. My mothers slim arms wrap securely around my fathers waist.

“No she isn’t,” She whispers. “She’s still here. In our memories, our hearts, our souls. She’s our baby, she’ll never leave.”

A sob escapes my chapped lips as I shut my eyes tightly. Why? Why does it all hurt so much? I feel lightheaded, and very faintly I hear Ron and Harry.

“And the other one?” Harry asks as I blearily open my eyes. “How does it go?”

“The Our Father?” Ron says, shifting his position. Harry nods and Ron’s brows sink in concentration. “I don’t remember all of it, just small parts.”

“Can I hear them?” Harry asks, his gaze focused on the squid as he lazily stretched in the warm sun.

“Sure,” Ron answers, a ghost of a smile on his lips. The first one’s ‘Thy kingdom come/Thy will be done/On earth as it is in heaven’, and the other is ‘Lead us not into temptation/But deliver us from evil’. ”

Harry nods and turns to look at Ron with hooded eyes. They stare at each other, neither saying a word. And I know, that some how, they’ve come to an agreement of sorts. One for all, and all for one.

* * * * * * *

“This is the road you’ll take,” Lily says as we walk out of the tall grass and onto a long dusty road. I squint against the sun, and watch as steam rises off the dirt road.

“I’m suppose to walk the whole way?” I ask skeptically. “Can’t I just fly or something?”

“Baby,” Lily grinned. “This is the afterlife, we’re not angels.”

“Well, you’d think that if God gave us heaven he’d at least give us a way to travel around,” I pout, my arms crossed over my chest. Lily raises an eyebrow, and I roll my eyes. “Beside on foot.”

“You’re expecting too much,” Lily laughs. “Besides, you only get what you deserve.”

“And I’m guessing no one deserves wings?”

“Ok, you,” Lily says in mock sternness. “Get to traveling.”

“But I don’t wanna,” I whine. Lily sighs and throws her arms up in mock frustration.

“What am I going to do with you?” She asks.

“Give me wings,” I grin.

“No,” She smiles. She closes her eyes briefly and when they open they’re glossy with tears. “Now go.”

I look at her carefully, unsure of what to do. She steps back and disappears into the air. Invisible. I hesitate before starting my journey down the long road. My tattered white dress feels heavy on my shoulders by the time night falls, and my stomach growls. Sighing, I pull myself of the road and lie down for a night rest.

“You look just like her,” Voldermont hisses as he circles me slowly. “You have here eyes, her mouth, even her smarts. But there’s one thing you’re lacking, and that’s her blood.”

I flinch away as a long, pale fingers come up to caress my check. Voldermont’s eyes glare down at me, two red slits on rotten skin.

“Do you fear me?” He asks amusedly as his hand travels down my neck and rests on my shoulder. I shake my head. He just smiles and leans forward. His face hovers inches above mine, and it takes all my strength not to cry. I clench my fists, my whole body tightening. Voldermont steps back, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. The group of Death Eaters surrounding us join in the laughter.

“My Lord,” Malfoy says as he steps forward before quickly falling to one knee. “Perhaps you can grace the Lady with a kiss.”

Loud shouts of approval follow Lucius’ request. I take a frightened step back, and stumble on the white gown I’ve been put in. Voldermont laughs and pulls me close.

“Close your eyes,” He whispers harshly, his grip on my arms sure to bruise. “And imagine your orphan boyfriend.”

“You ok?” A voice asks as I’m shaken awake. My eyes snap open and I scamper away from the person that’s woken me.

“Leave me alone,” I plead, my voice coming out bellow a whisper. My heart pounds wildly against my chest as the person stands.

“Hermione?” They ask, squinting down at me. “Is that you?”

“Sirius?” I ask dazed as he bends down. His black hair glows blue in the afternoon sun, and a warmth works its way through my body.

* * * * * * * *

Ok, there’s the first chapter. Reviews and flames welcomed!…Please?

WARNING: This story includes reference to religion. Please take into account that I’m in no way trying to preach to anyone about religion. If this offends you in anyway, I’m sorry.

Author’s Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You all made me feel warm and fuzzy. Let’s see, well, here’s the next installment. This chapter is space filler, an evil part of fan fiction that I absolutely loath. Hope everyone enjoys, and remember, reviewing makes me happy! …Why didn’t anyone tell me I spelled Voldemort’s name wrong? One last note, I’m going on vacation for the next few days, so I won’t be able to respond to all my lovely reviewers until then. Ta!

Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief, I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. I don’t own Peter Cottontail, and the general concept of the story was taken from Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones. I don’t own Phantom of the Opera, and A Farewell To Arms belongs to Ernest Hemmingway. Emma belong to Jane Austen.

Claimer: A lovely mint green/brown/cream scarf.

Summary: Hermione’s in Heaven, literally.

…Paper Soldier…

The dirt road I was walking on the night before is gone, and in its place a newly paved street with a large apartment building on the right, and a small, mint green cottage on the left. Behind the cottage, crashing upon a white shore, is the ocean. Foamy waves chase each other up the wet sand, leaving behind uneven lines. I turn to look at Sirius, curious as to why Heaven has suddenly changed.

“Everyone sees Heaven differently,” Sirius explains, leading me towards the cottage. “The longer you stay here, the more you’ll see.”

“Oh,” I nod, pretending this is all common knowledge to me.

Sirius shows me around the cottage, explaining various objects dotting the surprisingly large rooms. The kitchen is crammed with every imaginable food, and the living room is host to a large photograph of Harry, Ron, and myself above a roaring fireplace. In the back most room is a bamboo daybed with plush butter yellow covers, and large bookcases on either side, their shelves sagging under the weight of Muggle classics.

My stomach tightens, and I shut my eyes and inhale the familiar sent of an oceans breeze. It looks exactly like my bedroom. Down to the battered doll of Peter Cottontail nestled between two white pillows, and the Phantom of the Opera poster hanging to the right of the bay window. I turn to look at Sirius, and see him beaming at me.

“Mine?” I ask softly, not daring to believe that this is real.

“Yours,” Sirius answers. “If you’ll take it, that is.”

I dash forward, my slim arms slipping around his thick build, and burry my face in his chest.

“Oh yes!” I exclaim, tears slipping down my flushed cheeks. Sirius pats my back awkwardly as I pull away. “Thank you.”

My fingers run over the creased spines of novels I spent hours reading and rereading while still alive. Their worn leather covers send soft shivers through my body as I examine their dog-eared pages, with small notes written in the margins.

I pick up a copy of Ernest Hemmingway’s A Farewell To Arms, a gift from a distant relative in The States, and flip through it’s pages before setting it aside and taking in my hands the last book I received. Emma the thick gold letters read, the name Jane Austen in smaller letters beneath it. Letting out a shallow breath I slowly pull the dark brown cover back.

A stark white page stares up at me, and slowly, a loopy blue ink spreads across the blank surface. My breath catches in my throat as the letters appear, one by one, in slanted rows.

Princess--

It seems only yesterday I was pacing the waiting room of Crosshill Hospital, nervously anticipating your birth. I remember holding you in my arms, a small life, so fragile, depending on me in more ways than I was prepared for. I almost cried in delight when your brown eyes met mine. It was then that I knew I would love you forever, and if I had to go to the furthest depths of Hell to prove it, so be it.

I’ve watched you carefully over the years, taking in every bit of you I could. You don’t know how hard it was for me to see you board that steaming red train that would take you away from me. Each year you’d come home, safe and unharmed--physically at least, and tell me of the great adventures you and your friends had engaged in. When you told me of your latest year I wanted more than anything to take you in my arms and never let go.

You must understand that it’s an old man’s dream to keep his only daughter safe. I suppose it would have been fruitless, trying to keep you safe, when you’ve given your heart to some boy I know has been associated with danger since birth. My only hope for you as you reach your sixteenth year is that you learn to live, love, and above all else grow.

Know that I loves you, and should you ever need this retired knight in his battered armor, he’s only a call away.

--Daddy

* * * * * * *

Dumbledore stares out at the large expanse of forest barely visible in the setting sun. Across the room from him Harry and Ron sit in over stuffed chairs. Ron tosses Harry a look, unsure as to why they’ve been called to the Headmaster’s office.

“Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore says softly, back still facing them. “I ask your patience please. It is difficult for me to present you with what I have, as I’ve learned it’s the insignificant things that often hold the most meaning.”

Ron looks startled for a moment before nodding his head. He blushes when he realizes Dumbledore can’t see, and clears his throat. “Right.”

Turning to face the two boys I’ve spent the last few years of my life with, Dumbledore slowly holds up a thin gold chain. It shines in the setting light of the sun, that slants through open windows. At the end, dangling in lazy circles over the desk, is a small pendent no larger than a thumb print.

“The Virgin Mary,” Dumbledore says, lifting the necklace so that it comes to rest in his wrinkled hand.

My breath catches in my throat as both Ron and Harry stare at Dumbledore. My hand reaches up quickly to my neck. It’s bare. Startled, I listen intently as Ron speaks.

“Er, Professor, what does the necklace have to do with anything?”

“Ah, young Weasley,” Dumbledore grins. “This--” He holds the necklace out to Ron, who takes it gingerly in his hands. “--had little to do with anything. I merely thought one of you would like to keep it, as it was one of the last things Ms. Granger was wearing when we found her body.”

I almost fall off my bed as Ron drops the necklace, as if he’s been burned. It seems as if time has stopped as the chain falls through the air, its movement echoes through the air as it lands on the floor in a soft clatter. No one moves for one breathtaking second before Harry reaches down and picks the chain up carefully.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry says quietly, slipping my pendent into his pocket, the gold chain hanging out of its denim home as though reaching for air. With that he quickly stands, nods to both Dumbledore and Ron, then turns to leave.

It takes me a moment to realize where Harry’s heading as he walks briskly down various corridors. My chest begins to ache as he comes to stand before my resident table in the library. I want to scream when my vision fuzzes over and all I can see in the white walls of my room.

Reaching for the nearest object, I throw it at the wall. The small doll slides down the white surface, landing just beside my desk. My stomach turns, and a sense of satisfaction overcomes me as I pick up another object, throwing it at my lamp this time.

The lamp crashes to the ground, bathing my room in darkness. A strangled cry escapes my throat as I leap off my bed and begin to pull volume after volume from my bookshelves. They crash to the floor, heavy and bruised. Pages rip and covers flip open, revealing typed page after typed page.

I hate the fact that I feel so useless. How I can’t help Harry or Ron no matter how much I long to be there. With a gasping breath I let out a scream to rival that of a banshee’s and tear the butter colored comforter off my bed, tossing it into an unknown corner. As I reach for Peter Cottontail the door to my room swings open and Sirius stares at me in shock. Behind him is a man who looks exactly like Harry, only older.

“Harry?” I ask, before over exhaustion consumes me and I crumple to the floor.

* * * * * * *

“Put this on,” A female Death Eater commands, throwing a white dress at me.

I shiver as I slide the silk robe I’m wearing from my shoulders and slip the dress on. It’s smooth and cool against my skin, which is still burning from the excruciatingly hot bath I’ve been forced to take. My hands shake, and I fumble over the pearl buttons up the side of the tight bodice.

My wet hair clings to my skin as I sit on the lone chair of the room. I don’t speak for fear of being hurt again. The Death Eater looks at me and clicks her tongue.

“It’s a shame your blood is dirty,” She says, coming to run a hand down the side of my face. I want to vomit as her hands cup my face. “My Lord want you fixed up for the ceremony.”

I sit quietly, eyes shut tight as she mumbles various incarnations. Some of them I know, as Pavarti and Lavender use them when getting ready.

Something wet slide down my cheek, and I feel hot breath smelling of liquor on my lips, now stained a dark cherry red. My eyes snap open, and I’m met with the pale, pointed face of Lucius Malfoy.

“Filth,” He growls, pulling away from me and turning to the female Death Eater. “Bella, do see that you get her to the grounds in an hours time.”

With a swish of his crisp black robes he disapparates from the room. Bella looks at me in disdain before conjuring up a chair for herself and sitting opposite me for the remaining time. Above me I can faintly hear wizards and witches arriving. Time passes slowly as I formulate plan after plan in my head, the last one more ridiculous than the one before.

“Bella,” A strict voice calls from the top of the stairs. “Bring the Mudblood up.”

With a long sigh, Bella curses whomever had called down and pulls me up from the chair. She pushes the tip of her wand forcefully into my right shoulder, directing me up the creaky stairs and into a large dinning hall.

If I wasn’t so frightened I would take in the architecture of the old manor. A large crown of jeering Death Eaters stops me from walking further, and it isn’t until Bella shoves me forward that I enter the hall completely. The crowd roars with harsh laughter as I stumble over the end of my gown, and fall to the stone floor. A sharp pain slides through my palms and knees, and I know my palms are bleeding from the thin scrapes I’ve no doubt received.

My eyes dart around the room as I quickly stand, coming to rest on a shadowed figure sitting atop a throne of bones. They nod their head in greeting towards me, before holding up a hand to signal for silence. The crude remarks and catcalls stop in an instant, and the figure stands.

I shake in anticipation as they walk forward, the torch light casting shadows on their face. Pale, rotting flesh peeks out from black robes that seem darker than any I’ve ever seen. Their face looks as though it‘s peeling, with a flat nose that has two slits for nostrils and thin lips.

“You look just like her,” Voldemort hisses as he circles me slowly. “You have here eyes, her mouth, even her smarts. But there’s one thing you’re lacking, and that’s her blood.”

I flinch away as a long, pale fingers come up to caress my check. Voldemort’s eyes glare down at me, two red slits on rotten skin.

“Do you fear me?” He asks amusedly as his hand travels down my neck and rests on my shoulder. I shake my head. He just smiles and leans forward. His face hovers inches above mine, and it takes all my strength not to cry. I clench my fists, my whole body tightening. Voldemort steps back, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. The group of Death Eaters surrounding us join in the laughter.

“My Lord,” Malfoy says as he steps forward before quickly falling to one knee. “Perhaps you can grace the Lady with a kiss.”

Loud shouts of approval follow Lucius’ request. I take a frightened step back, and stumble on the white gown I’ve been put in. Voldemort laughs and pulls me close.

“Close your eyes,” He whispers harshly, his grip on my arms sure to bruise. “And imagine your orphan boyfriend.”

His lips crash onto mine, dry and chapped. I shut my eyes tightly, tears leaking down my cheeks to fall from my chin. Voldemort pulls away before placing searing kisses along my jaw line.

“Your filth,” He hisses, pulling back to look into my eyes. My body is tense, and I don’t dare breath. “It’s no wonder that boy chose you.”

His hands come to rest on my shoulders, and he pushes me back. I brace myself to land on the hard floor, but am surprised when I land atop something incredibly soft. I sit up, realizing I’m on a rather expensive looking mattress. My mind momentarily goes blank as two large looking Death Eaters step forward from the crowd.

No!, my mind screams over and over again as I struggle to stand. I choke on the word as four hands reach to pull me down. I can barely make anything out through the haze of tears, and I can faintly hear Voldemort demanding a hot iron.

My eyes snap open, eyes watering. My chest heaves as a breath tears through my body, burning as it fills my lungs. I turn on my side, coughing hard as a soothing hand comes to rub my back.

“Hermione?” Sirius asks as I curl into a ball. I blink slowly, eyelids heavy. My room is neat again, bookshelves just as they were before my breakdown. “What happened?”

I make to sit up slowly, but lie back down when a pounding works away at the back of my skull. Something cool touches my forehead, and I look up to see Sirius dabbing a wet cloth against my forehead. My fringe soaks, sticking to my skin as my eyes land on the other occupant of the room.

He’s tall and lanky, with messy black hair and glasses identical to Harry’s. His eyes are a warm brown, and he offers a lopsided smile when I catch his eyes.

“Hermione, right?” He asks, his voice coming out soft. The words linger in the air, waiting patiently to be answered. I nod.

* * * * * * *

* * * * * * *

Ok, before anyone begins thinking that Hermione’s going to be raped in front of a group of Death Eaters, she’s not. So, review…please?