Disclaimer: I'm not jkr

Rating:T

Warning: Insanity?

Summary: The war has ended but Hermione remains captive. Her only release from the torture she endures is the cold. What ever could happen to Hermione?

The ground icy. I lie still. The harsh choppy sounds of our language fills my ears. But I ignore it. Not out of bravery. Simply I'm to busy basking in the numbness of my body.

The cold.

So numbing.

Coherent thoughts are allowed into my mind as the pain subsides. Harry! Ron! The order! Vol…

The pain comes through… My body adjusted to the cold.

Angry eyes glare down at my body. A lesser death eater repeats the question.

I'm not important enough for Voldemort himself to be present.

"Where is Harry Potter?"

I shrug.

It's not like I care. I'm not being. It's just I seriously do not know. They think it's my "Gryffindor bravery" protecting him. But the first place I told them I seriously thought that's where they were. All I told them had been accurate.. at the time.

It doesn't matter anymore. We lost

I always thought that us losing meant that we would be forever at war. But technically we are finally at peace. The world is always better when at peace.

Harsh words are shouted. Red light fills my vision. Pain engulfs my body.

I wake up and look around for my teddy bear. Where am I? Where's my mommy? An adult walks by my cell… should I ask him? He's a stranger. He might hurt me.

"Mommy..." sniff "… Where mommy?"

The man looks straight into my eyes and laughs. Regression to them in my case was always hilarious. Something about the destruction of my intelligence made them proud.

My body curls into the fetal position and tears run down my face.

Rock forward

Rock back

Forward

Back

Forward

Back

Cold. Icy. Water.

It's poured all over me by a guard.

"Voldemort will see you now."

The guards drag my limp body towards his thrown room

This would be the first time I've seen Voldemort in years.

We enter his thrown room.

The guard places me upon a chair.

"Good evening Madame Granger."

I look down. I don't want to see his face.

"Please at least act like a Gryffindor look up"

I look up at his command. I withhold his beauty. It hurts. Its been to long since I saw something aesthetically pleasing.

"What would you most desire. I'm feeling kind."

"Cold" I say quietly.

He hands me a portkey.

I wind up on the top of a snowy mountain. Cold. Truly, Cold. Numbing cold. Loving cold.

My mind becomes free from the pain. My coherent thoughts allow me to discern what had occurred. But I don't care. I understood what happened. But I welcomed the death sentence. He was only being a loving leader. Loving leader providing my greatest desire. Numbing, loving, cold Death. Thoughts once again drifted away as I died becoming nothing.

AN:

Um… Yeah. This is well what I felt like writing. The punctuation was on purpose, the grammar errors were just me being lazy. I know the inconstancies in this short story (I.E. she grow used to the cold but not the pain ). I just don't care. This is Hermione by the way.