Hello HP fans! Ivy Phoenix here.Unfortunatly, I cannot take full credit for this story. The author of Memories made a lot of the ideas, and I am just using them to help my storie, so author of Memories, please don't sue me for taking your idea, I gave you credit too. Anyway, this story starts right at the time when the REAL battle starts, the one where He-who-must-not-be-named fights. Please please PLEASE reply to my story, weather it be constructive critisizum or praise. You don't know how much it means to know that people read and appreciate my work. Well, here we go!
Disclamer: Hey! Guess what. I've lied to you. I do NOT own Harry Potter. Some woman with the name of... JK Rowling? She has something to do with it.
Chaos rained. Spells wizzed past her, but she couldn't lift her wand to fire back. She crumpled on the ground, blind and deaf to all that was around her. Harry was dead. . . she couldn't breath. . . she couldn't control herself. . . everything was wrong. Harry, one of the closest friends she ever had. . . one of the only friends she ever had. Whey couldn't this end? She had risked everything for him, but he had died at the hands of Voldemort. Everything was red with pain and black with emptyness. She felt someone's hands under her shoulders, felt herself being dragged on the ground. She didn't care what the Death Eaters did to her—nothing, nothing could have been more painful then seeing her friend lie dead at Voldemorts feet.
She was suffocating. She was in a box that was slowing shrinking, closing in all around her, squeezing her shut. She could feel her body, so far off, convulsing in spasms of pain. Her eyes were useless; they were to wet through, and even what she could see she couldn't make sense of. She was being dragged down, her mind a disarray of memories; she was zigzagging in and out of consciousness.
She was three. Her aunt was squealing over her baby sister's dress, her tiny toes, and her blue eyes. Mother and father were standing proudly next to her, their faces shining with the happiness only a new born child can bring.
"Why, Cinthy's just adorable!" Aunty cooed.
"She's most certainly is our grandchild!" her grandfather remarked. "Is that a blond curl I see coming in?"
"We were so scared she wouldn't make it." her mother's lower lip quivered. "What with her heart murmer." Hermione sat in the corner, silently watching the cerimony with large, round brown eyes. Nobody even spared a glance at her, not caring that she hadn't been fed since last night.
"Our little girl. . ." her father murmured, and the aunt birst into tears.
Someone was screaming, she cought between past and present, she didn't understand what was happening, all she knew was she wanted it to end.
She was shaken awake, and opened her big brown eyes to see her mothers face, wet and lined.
"Wake up, Harmione. It's time for your sister's funeral." Something terribly wrong had happened, so she cried. She wasn't sure why, but she knew she would never see the little blond beauty again. At the funeral was when it happened. The priest was finishing up, and people were coming forward with words and flowers. She was mad. This wasn't supposed to happen. She hated the world for this, and as her parents kneeled down to place the flowers in her grave, the beautiful roses started tearing themselves to shreads, petals flying everywhere. She ran. She ran and she ran, and her parents never called after her. She ran until she could run no more, until she couldn't find her way home if she tried. She collapsed on a park bench, never wanting to see the faces of the ones who had rejected her again.
Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She was in a dark room, the sounds of duels in the distance. She lay there for a while, her mind blank. Then she heard movement. Someone was in the room with her. She hadn't the strength to turn her head, but she already knew who it was. A Death Eater. She didn't speak. Her throat was dry, and she didn't care to talk about what she knew was coming. She didn't care. Harry was dead and she waould gladly follow. Her only regret was that she and Ron had never had any children. But they had kissed. That was enough.
The pain of the torture curse never came. Perhaps he'd just kill her and be done with it. His master probably wanted him to show his loyalty by killing Harry Potter's closest friends. Their was silence. Hermione wished her captor would get it over and done with, not this waiting, these moments on which she could do nothing but reflect her on her life. She had never told Lavender Brown she forgave her. She had never told Luna how much she cared about her. She had never even told Ron that she loved him. She had wanted to master potions before she died, and their was a Transfiguration test she had only gotten and E on, and she wanted to see Professor McGonagall about it—
"Hermione." Her heart skipped a beat as she heard words, but they were the last ones she'd expected to hear. The tone was sympathetic, almost loving. Almost. She was breathing hard now, something that was painful to her ribs. "Hermione." the voice cooed again. She gave him no satisfaction of a response. She did not know what he was doing; he had never used that name before.
"What would you do to save your friends?" The question took the burnet aback. Why would he ask such a question? "Would you die to save them? Would you love someone who you never loved?" There was pain in the voice. And longing. And something else, too. "I've always looked at you, thought of you. Always. I never ment what I said. I was confused and angry with myself, and I needed someway to cover up my real self." he went on. "When I first saw you. . . Saw your face. . . Full of innocence. . ." He trailed off, leaving the room in silence. An eerie silence. This was wrong. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she already dead? Why would he of all people be saying what he was saying? Was he trying to soften her up for the curse? It made no sense, but at that point, nothing mattered.
"Marry me." His voice rang out in the silence. "You want your friends to be safe? No more deaths? Then marry me. Everyone will be saved. No more deaths." No more deaths. . . She couldn't process the thought properly. Marry him? Him? She was confused and tired, and her mind was empty and unfocused. She just wanted it to end. . . No more deaths . . . Why hadn't he killed her? Why was he saying this? She was vapor, she was just mist, she couldn't grasp the thoughts that ran through her mind, they just slipped away. Numbly, she nodded. She couldn't even remember what had happened, why she was here, in an empty, dark, greenhouse. She just wanted it to end. That was all she wanted.
Hermione was now aware of how utterly alone she was. He had left. Where to, she did not know. The quite was deafening, it froze her and made her want to clutch her ears and scream until she could scream no more. The sounds of battle had long since ceased. Suddenly, the door was opened. And He was here, along with a presence of evil that slowly crept through the door. It silently, ominously strode towards her, each step bringing her closer to what she knew was death. Her eyes, however useless they wer now, traveled up it's cold body, past the Elder Wand, up into it's emotionless, red eyes. She saw his mouth move, saw his eyes flash, and all was blackness, deep pools she was drowning into, not to return to the top.