The idea for this fic popped up about a month or so ago now and has been pestering at me to be written. It's totally different to any of my other pieces but is very exciting for me and poses as a challenge to my skills. This is only a test chapter to see how you respond to it and help and guide me on how I can continue with it as I'm still a little unsure of where it is going. Please read the rest of my Authors note at the end of this chapter. It's very important that you do.

I hope you enjoy.

Sweet Lady Greensleeves

Chapter 1 – The Stake

31st October 1534

It was a bitter day.

A day for blood, tears, sorrow...death.

As she trailed her now calloused fingertips over the jagged stone wall of the chamber, Hermione wondered how many people had been sentenced to death and locked away in the tower before... how many had suffered at the hands of the King's torturers? Teeth ripped out, ears cut off... eyes burnt out with a branding iron. Though neither she or her sisters had to endure such a thing... they were ladies after all and no lady was to be tortured. She still wondered to herself what it must be like for those men, accused of such crimes to experience such an excruciating method. She and Ginny had seen the evidence of it after a man who was in the chamber adjacent to their own had all of his teeth removed and an ear cut off as he refused to admit to conspiring against the King and Queen Anne. His rags were drenched in sweat and blood as he sat weeping through the wall and all the two girls could do was listen.

Those few weeks spent in the tower were haunting, spent clinging to one another in fear of what they were to endure next, when would it all end?

"Why haven't they tried to save us, 'mione? Why won't they come like they promised us?" whispered Ginny one night, mouth chattering against the biting cold as the two young women lay entwined under a parchment thin, grubby blanket, trying to scavenge any warmth that they could from one another. As their breaths mingled as they lay face to face, Hermione stroked the auburn strands from her younger 'sister's' face.

"They'll come to us Ginny..." she insisted, in reassurance both to herself and the terrified girl that lay beside her, "I promise it. Don't doubt them, sister. They'll save us". She concluded by placing a gentle kiss against her lips, before laying her head back down to the stone floor, willing for Ginny to sleep.
As her friend drifted off in her arms, Hermione's gaze drifted to the barred window, looking out onto the dark, clear sky, the stars glittering brilliantly. Hermione Granger knew that she was going to die, along with the other four young women that had been locked away by the King's orders.
She wished nothing more than to be able to wander through the fields once more and feel the long shears of grass pass through her fingers as she breathed the fresh country air deep into her lungs. To feel the soft earth under her feet, crumbling between her toes. But such wishful thoughts would only be a dream now and she knew it.

An unfulfilled last wish.

Hot, salty tears seeped from Hermione's slowly closing eyelids and she stretched her fingers behind her, reaching back up to wall to trace her fingers along the cold stone, imagining his soft, defined back under her palms. Her nails scratched between the joining of the slabs as she imagined feeling along his fine torso, in between the rise and falls that were his taught abs.

Her lips began to vibrate as she began to hum a melody that she knew all too well, a song that he would sing lightly into the shell of her ear as they both lay together in their bed, caressing the damp sheen of perspiration off' one another's bodies, that special secret tune sending small tingles down her spine. It was a song of lost love, unrequited love, a story of their own love's history.

Her mouth began to twitch as the words formed on her lips and as the moisture glided down her cheeks, she began to sing...

"'Tis, I will pray to God on high,
That thou my constancy mayst see,
And that yet once before I die,
Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.

Ah, Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,
To God I pray to prosper thee,
For I am still thy lover true,
Come once again and love me.

Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Greensleeves..."

She drifted off slowly into the realm of sleep, wiping her face of her shed tears and whispered a hushed declaration of her love, finally succumbing to the darkness.

By this time in the morrow, she would be no more than dust...

...

The crisp air bit at her bare feet as she was marched slowly through the hoards of people that had come to the tower to watch. They snarled, spat and hollered in her ears, trying to claw at her.

'You're the devil's whore'

'Rot in hell...'

'Witch'

The plain, long white smock scratched against her delicately paled and bruised skin and her knuckles whitened even further as she bunched the material in her hands in a vice-like grasp.
There were absolutely no emotions registering in her brain, just a tick, tick, ticking away as she made her way to the middle of the square that was now seeping with the barbaric and bloodthirsty citizens.

Her eyes widened as she saw it.

The long beam that stood strongly in the centre of the dark, wooden platform surrounded by abundant numbers of freshly chopped kindling that would soon be roaring with fresh orange tongues.

The woman's legs began to quake ferociously, causing the guards to tighten their grip on her small, frail frame as they hauled her up the sturdy steps and into the middle of the podium where four more women; her friends stood sobbing into each other's shoulders. One Pansy Parkinson happened to be wailing her heart out, screaming and begging for mercy, denying anything and everything: Several days prior, Hermione had overheard the guards speaking in hushed tones outside the small, grimy cell about how her old rival turned close friend had been driven mad by the captivity, trying to gouge the veins out of her wrists with her nails as she rocked back and forth, muttering quietly to herself and protesting her innocence, demanding to be free.

How these women had fallen so rapidly. It was bizarre to even consider that they had been serving at court such little time ago as they stood side by side, hand in hand, all dressed in nothing but the same flimsy, itchy gowns that were billowing around their ankles, their hair shaven to their skulls and hidden by a small white cap.

All of them looked no more than fifteen years of age. The garments that they wore along with the gaunt, haunted expressions that plagued their vulnerable forms horribly distorted and decreased the true ages that they each held... that were soon to be cut short.

She slowly, reluctantly looked up to the royal stand, spying various members of court that she had mingled with mere weeks back, but there were only one set of eyes that she was looking for, yet a pair she knew she would never be able to seek out. That molten silver pair that she had grown so used to, loved, adored and cherished so heartily.

'He'll be long gone by now... along with the rest of them.' she thought to herself, rubbing her clammy hands together, her stomach churning in fear.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, Pansy Regan Parkinson, Lavender Elizabeth Brown, Astoria Georgiana Greengrass and Hermione Jean Granger" a deep, booming voice rang out.

"You have all been charged, tried and found guilty of witchcraft and by Law, and the decision of our Majesty King Henry himself, you have all been sentenced to burn at the stake until only ashes remain."

A long, pregnant pause followed. Hermione's heart was now thrashing against her chest and felt as if it were to explode any moment.
A twisted thought in her head wished it so, as it would be a much quicker death than the fate that awaited her.

"Do you have any last words that you wish to speak?"

Every girl shook their heads solemnly, their trembling escalated, faces ashen, eyes already dead in their sockets. It seemed that they had all considered and accepted their fate, apart from Pansy, who began howling at such a volume that she was gagged by one of the guards and litte Ginny – the youngest of them all at nineteen years old who turned to Hermione, horrified and in understanding of what was to happen to them.

It was time.

In a matter of minutes...

The end would begin.

Sweet Lady Greensleeves is a period piece, set in the Tudor Era of England in the early 1500's during the reign of Henry VIII. Now, I am not too great on history and I will definitely be doing my research but please note that I won't necessarily be sticking to the true history and happenings of that time so if you are a fan of history etc, I hope you take into consideration that everything I write is intended for the story and might not have actually happened in real life! I understand that Henry beheaded and Hung people when he was reigning but I thought it would be more interesting if they were to be burnt at the stake like witches have been in history.

It will be my own story but like any other fan-fiction; I shall be manipulating the characters (including royal and historic figures) to the storyline.
Last but not least – I won't be using the old language either I'm afraid – I'm not good at that! Haha. I will keep it as true as I can though!

I do admit: this chapter is pretty dark, but it's not going to be like this all the time – I promise! You'll get to find out how Hermione and the others were accused, tried etc and how she fell in love with Draco AND how they fit in with the King etc. It won't get dark until the end now!

Please feedback and let me know whether I should continue writing it!

Many Thanks!

-Lizzie