Forever is over,
And my heart's not gonna break
Forever is over,
And I'm no longer afraid
'Cause if I don't get out now
I may never escape
Your power is fading away,
And I'm getting closer
To the place I belong,
Forever is over
Over, over, over, over...

Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. Nothing is mine but the creativity and storyline. Song lyrics by The Saturdays (Forever is Over) ©


Death.

Hermione was sick of it. Sick of seeing it wherever she turned, sick of hearing it happen right next door to her. Sick of people hooting and cheering as the people die, sick of everything what this world had become.

Sick of death and destruction itself.

How many more lives must be lost until they stop? How much more blood must be spilt before there is no more to drip? How many more innocent lives must they take and twist into something beyond repair until they stop bending.

How long had it been since she had last eaten? How long had it been since she saw the light of day? Felt the warm rays beating down on her face. How long had it been since she washed?

How long had it been since they had thrown her in this cell?

Time seemed to be lost in that dungeon. You didn't know when it was day; you didn't know when it was night. You can sit there and starve to the brink of death and just be given enough food to survive another week. No water was ever sent up, and your throat became dead of use except for screaming.

Every part of you ached. From your head to your toes. Some days, the pain was so bad you couldn't even stand without help.

Ron and Harry were in there with her.

Harry had been tortured the most. Tortured for information they didn't have. For there was nothing more to tell. The Order had all been destroyed, everyone had been killed except them. Some days Harry would return to them unconscious, and Ron would have to slap him on the face until he woke up.

Hermione would tend to his wounds and sit and cradle him until he fell asleep.

Ron would sit across the room, engraving another line in the tally chart they had scraped into the wall, counting the days they had been there. But it seemed much more than what was marked out.

He would sigh, and sit against the wall with his head leant back against it, and close his eyes. For what was relief or pain or just merely resting, Hermione did not know.

Without wands, life was like Medieval times. She had thought about this many times, but never spoken a word of it, because Harry and Ron would not know what it meant.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had died. So had the twins, and Bill and Charlie and Percy and even Ginny.

Fred and George had died together, standing as a sacrifice to save their little sister. They laughed in the faces of the death eaters before the deadly flash of green life took them together. Ginny had tried to tell them to run away with her, but they wouldn't. She tried hexing the Death Eaters about to kill them but they were too quick for her and she lost her wand. Once Fred and George had died, that was it. She was fresh meat. She died backed up against a corner with multiple broken bones and screaming. The tear tracks were still there and dry when her body had been found.

Charlie had died proudly. He had died fighting. He'd always wanted that. He had cast his dragon Patronus over the heads of the death eaters, and its roar of fire had singed them. But his one last spell had been too late, as he fell to the floor, and his dragon Patronus flew away, cawing a sad cry for his master.

Percy had died in the Ministry of Magic. He was among the first to die, along with Fudge. The whole building was destroyed, and his body was mangled from the rubble. It was hard to tell whether a killing curse had gotten him or it was the collapsing building that had killed him.

Bill died instantly. In his cottage. He was packing things away to go and live in the Muggle word with Fleur, and their little girl. He wasn't even aware of them outside. All it took was one to come up to the window and cast the spell. Bill died before he had finished packing. Fleur had already taken their daughter to Italy, though. And they were safe there, as far as they knew. There was no one on the outside to tell them, to save them. For Harry was the hero and he was inside that cell. With them.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had died in each other's arms. Strong and proud, they didn't even scream. They lived together and died together, and Ron was proud to call them is mother and father.

It was quite daunting for him, really... To be the last Weasley. He had always been surrounded by siblings and family, and this was too much. A overpowering, haunting shadow of loneliness looming over his head.

And no matter how many stolen kisses it took from Hermione to make him feel a little better. His whole family was dead. And he knew he would be soon, too.

He wouldn't die proudly like his Mum and Dad. He wouldn't die laughing like Fred and George. He would die screaming of torture, before the sweet release of death.

They never talked these days.

It was bad enough for Harry to be tortured day-in-day-out. But after loosing Ginny he just sort of plummeted. His whole world fell apart. She was all he had after his parents, Sirius, and Dumbledore went to the hands of the Death Eaters, or Voldemort himself.

Hermione was thankful she was a Muggle-born. Her parents were somewhere in the Muggle world, safe and unbothered.

Well, not entirely unbothered. Their daughter was gone, and locked up in a chamber, about to die any day now, and they didn't even know it.

But she had told them to undergo a fake name, leave and pretend to be a newly-wed couple. She didn't expect the Death Eaters to go looking for them. Or even recognise them.

So Hermione shuffled herself back against the wall, and wallowed. Letting only a few tears slip before she pulled herself together and blocked out the sounds of Harry screaming.

Hadn't they tortured him enough? Didn't they know there was nothing more to tell them? Nothing more at all!

Ron sat next to her, tears escaping his eyelashes, too, and he snuggled up against her and took her in his arms.

They had planned to be together some day.

To have their own cottage, and their own children running around, playing. Red-head girls with chestnut eyes, and brown-haired boys with piercing green eyes. A part of her and a part of Ron to snuggle up with in bed every night.

But that was all gone now, and the only thing they could look forward to was to maybe die in less pain than they were in now. And they knew half of that pain, was from their hearts.

They heard Harry's screaming stop, and they feared the worst. It was shortly followed by a flash of dreaded green light, and yells of joy from the murderers. Hermione stifled a cry into Ron's chest, and the tears ran freely. She knew now, that this was the last time she would hold him, feel him. Just generally be with him. She clutched onto his shirt tightly, but it was no use. They dragged him up and practically threw him into the next room. His screaming quickly began and then came the awful green light, and the howls of delight as the last Weasley died.

She had been kept until last, and she daren't think why.

Snape's bellowing, harsh voice came from the next room like a ringing in her ears, "If you'll excuse me, gentleman, I'll take care of this one." Then more laughter came, and Hermione shut her eyes tight as the sound of heavy footsteps came closer and closer until they came at a halt at Hermione's form. The hot tears on her cheeks began to burn as the new cold ones spilled out, and she hugged her knees to her chest so tightly she was finding it hard to breathe.

What was Snape doing? Wasn't he supposed to be on their side? On Dumbledore's side? On the good side?? How could he stoop so low as to do this?

But instead of the large hands swooping down and clutching her, she felt his breath at her ear, and she knew his whispers were only for her to hear.

"Turn it only once." He said, with a warning edge to his tone. Hermione didn't understand what he was saying, and felt his cold hands grasp hers. Her eyes shot open, and she saw him knelt down in front of her, his head down so that his greasy hair was covering his face. He placed something small and metal into her palm, before winking at her, and gently pulling her up.

Then he had to put on the act of dragging her to the room, and in front of those dreaded red eyes that belonged to the devil himself.

"I thought you might like this one, my Lord." Snape said, droning on as if it was the most boring thing in the world. "After all, she is the last of the Golden Trio."

Hermione couldn't bring herself to laugh, or even smirk, as she was still trying to feel what was in her hand without anyone seeing.

Voldemort smirked at her, his snake-like nostrils flaring, showing all his perfect, white teeth.

"That's very considerate of you, Snape." He said, not taking his eyes off Hermione. She began to feel her palms getting damp. If only she could figure out what was in her hand quicker.

Turn it only once...

Voldemort chuckled, and smirked even more. Now it was beginning to look like an actual smile. But that was almost impossible for Voldemort.

He sort of bowed, hunching his back a little to bend down to Hermione's height, and raised his arms as a so-sue-me gesture. His long white wand, that had taken the lives of millions, was displayed proudly in his right hand. It made Hermione's heart thump harder than it already was, and she was sure they could see her ribcage smashing in her chest.

"I win," Voldemort breathed, almost as excited as a little child in a sweet shop. It was obvious he had been longing to say those words for a very long time.

Hermione clutched the thing in her palm, and smirked back at Voldemort, whose own smirk did not faulter.

"Not yet," And with a jerk of her navel, the Time Turner spun, and she soared through time.

N/A: Hey. :D So how's that so far, huh? ;)

I realise there are going to be some mistakes in this (mostly Grammar, eeee!) with other things through time. But I'm sure they won't be totally major.

Please understand that I haven't even finished planning this story, yet, and I tend to go off track a little when writing. But I hope you liked this chapter – as short as it was!

Kelly xxx

PS, Review please! :)