Maybe Myself by KiRa M. EmeRaLd
Disclaimer: The owner of these characters happen to belong to J.K. Rowling.
A/N: For some reason I seem to have a tendency to write sad beginnings... you have been warned.
(Updated Dec. 16, 2014)
1. Lost Hope
She lay on the cold hard floor of her cell. She was on her belly, head facing the other way, unable to look at the faces staring at her as they passed.
"Is that Hermione Granger?" somebody whispered as they went by.
To Hermione it wasn't a new line. It was old, done, and been said over a thousand times.
Normally, she would of wanted to claw that person's throat out, like she had done a long time ago. But even if she wanted to, the bars on her cell kept her from doing such a thing.
She turned her head to the other side of the cell. On the bars hung a sign that read 'Watch out, she bites.' but her thirst for lashing out had died a long time ago.
She no longer was energetic, and full of life. She was now frail and weak. She couldn't run quick enough to escape anymore, she couldn't run fast enough to save her life. She. Was. Useless.
At least that's what she told herself everyday.
She looked at the other people around her. They were all in a the same bad shape that she was in. They were all there for the same reason… pure entertainment.
All of them hopeless except for one hope...
To be banished from the pain. To no longer worry about the evil that lay right outside their cells. To be another lost soul. To be... dead.
Some were badly bruised, cut, whipped, and some still had fresh blood slipping through their wounds. Others had dried crusted blood from over a week ago, and some of them, months.
Why was the world like this? Because the dark side had won.
Harry and Ron were probably still out there on the run, she didn't know. It had been months since she'd seen sunshine... probably even years.
He slid down the wall feeling ill. He dropped his just open Firewhiskey bottle, not wanting to drink it anymore.
"You okay man?" asked one of the death eaters in the room.
"Yeah, fine." he said in a hoarse whisper. He needed air, he needed air now.
He got up, and walked over the broken whiskey bottle. He walked outside gasping.
The sky was gray all on it's own since the day the dark side had taken over, and now more than anything he wished he hadn't become one of them. That he would have helped defeat those who sucked the life out of him without even knowing it.
He looked back at the gray building. There were only three windows and there were about 4 to 5 floors. He never really cared to find out.
He didn't want it. Didn't want to be part of it anymore, and he wished he could change back time as he collapsed onto the ground.
His friend was in there, somewhere. He had never really seen her but the word was, she bites.
Silly as it may seem but he often dreamed of her. Small meaningless silly dreams where they both saved the world from evil, and made the world right again. They'd be the heros.
He referred to them as his childish dreams. The silly dreams that a young mind had, and the older ones lost.
Maybe one day he'd see her and maybe... silly enough, he could make that dream reality.
Right now, he was at the point where he didn't care who he worked with just to make all this pain go away. Hell! He would work with the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause just to get his whole life back. Or even just a world where evil didn't rule.
Where he could feel again.
A/N: Super sorry to anyone I made feel bad or sad with this beginning, but I'm planning on a happy ending... whatever that'll be. Review if you'd like.