Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I am making no profit in the creation of this story.

Prologue: Shattered Mind

The course fibers of the rope dug into her wrists, no doubt leaving burns along her skin. Her shoulders were tight against Harry and Ron's on either side of her as they were all dragged harshly behind the band of Snatchers. Every fifty or so steps, one of them would trip over the other's feet and bring them all tumbling to the ground. Hermione knew her face was already scratched and bruised from her inability to catch herself before meeting the forest floor and she was exhausted by the effort of standing back up without the use of her arms. The ragged breaths coming from Harry and Ron proved they were struggling as well.

Hermione's own breaths were coming in short bursts. Her heart raced as anxiety began to crush in on her. She had always prided herself on her talent for logic and reason, but she couldn't seem to think straight in such a situation. The three of them were tied together and being herded like cattle to a slaughterhouse. She didn't see a way out, and the thought was shutting down her neural capacities. Usually Hermione worked well under pressure, the fear waking her up and kicking her into overdrive; however, she felt useless as they were marched up a deserted country lane towards the foreboding iron gates of Malfoy Manor.

Everything happened so quickly after that. Her panic seemed to break down each moment into fragments, every sound and motion coming to her in staggered surges of awareness. It was as if a defense mechanism had begun to take effect in order to prevent her heart from completely giving out. Her senses allowed her to only absorb that which she could handle.

She couldn't wrap her head around anything though. The snippets of reality weren't enough to truly focus her. It was all too much.

The air started to feel as though it were stuck in her throat. Hermione gasped, trying to breath. She started hyperventilating, tears rolling down her cheeks as she fought desperately to do so. Her vision seemed to close in on itself, forming a blurry tunnel around her surroundings. The lack of oxygen to her already muddled brain was slowly trampling over any remaining thought. She couldn't take it anymore.

Her fear proved to be victorious over her reason. Hermione never even realized what was happening before Ron and Harry were removed from the room. Suddenly she was dragged by Bellatrix Lestrange into a circle. Before the Death Eater had even cast the first curse, Hermione felt her mind shatter.

Something remarkable happened then. After the first strike of the Cruciatus Curse against her body, the pain numbed and her thoughts no longer felt like her own. Hermione was drifting outside of herself, feeling emotions that made no sense when faced with such an unforgiving reality. Her eyes, which had clenched tightly as her back bowed from the intensity of the knifelike licks to her skin, unexpectedly flew open to the sight of an endless expanse of sea and sky.

Hermione could smell the salt of the ocean in the air. It tickled her nostrils and reminded her of a holiday she'd taken many years ago to Camber Sands Beach with her mum and dad. She could taste the sand on her lips as the wind kicked it up, playfully spattering the smooth grit against her. The breeze was a reprieve from the sun that she squinted up into through the cloudless sky above.

Everything was so realistic; better than a dream. She could even hear the crash of the surf against the shore as wave after wave broke, racing towards her toes until the cool water kissed her feet. The chill shocked her. It sent a shiver up her spine that caused another peculiar ripple in her mind.

The image wavered then. Hermione's balance was thrown off and her body unexpectedly collapsed forward. She fell to her knees, hands that weren't her own digging into the wet sand. And yet, they were hers. She could feel wondrous sensations against her palms despite the rough appearance of the hands she saw in front of her. The cool, wet ground felt so good against her skin – Skin which was blisteringly hot from the sun-kissed air. She felt her fingers clench into the soft surface below her like claws, reveling the tickle of the sand in her nails before it was all over just as quickly as it had come.

She was ripped from the illusion. She faded slowly into the world as if coming out of a deep sleep, reluctantly regaining her sense just in time to meet the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. The woman's mouth twisted with madness and her eyes flashed. Hermione could feel her sour breath against her cheek.

"Look how pretty it is," Bellatrix urged franticly, poking Hermione's face hard with the tip of her wand. "Look at it!"

Hermione was too exhausted to resist. The weight of her confusion had muddled her thoughts. She couldn't quite process what had happened, so she let her head fall submissively sideways. Her eyes fell over the wound, a wave of shocked sickness overcoming her at the sight of the bleeding word engraved into her arm. She couldn't bring herself to look away despite her horror.

Instead, she stared at what the madwoman had done to her while she'd been off in another world. Her arm throbbed now that she was no longer numb to reality. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to have been electrocuted. Yet somehow, she could still just as easily feel the sand against her palms; as though she'd actually been at the beach which had danced before her eyes. Her senses treasured the warm feeling of security that she'd experienced during the bizarre daydream.

She wanted to go back to that beach. Hermione wanted to feel the sunlight on her skin. If she let go, allowing her mind to drift again to places that she wasn't entirely sure were hers, maybe she'd be free. She shut her eyes dazedly, giving in to the loss of consciousness that had been threatening since Harry had uttered the tabooed name.

Hermione never went back to that beach. Instead, she awoke days later to a different oceanic view from Shell Cottage. She did think of it often though. Sometimes she would dream of snippets of white sand and cloudless azure sky, never truly knowing where the scene had been summoned from. Despite various trips to the beach with her family when she was younger, she had never seen water so turquoise one could see the fish just beneath its surface, nor had she ever felt sand so soft it was as though it were sent from the heavens.

There was no way that beach had been a figment of her own imagination.

Despite the oddness of the illusion she'd had at Malfoy Manor that day, she eventually learned to stop questioning what had happened. No matter the origin of the beach, it had saved her. Right when she'd been about to experience the greatest pain imaginable, it had magically swept her away from the harshness of her reality. It had taken her out of her body and into paradise. While her nature demanded logic and reason, she learned to stop questioning the gift and to just live with it.

Then one day shortly after the end of the war, more visions started coming. Not just heavenly visions, but those of anger and fear and regret. She would be strolling through Diagon Alley with Harry or Ron and suddenly be struck with an emotion that felt uncomfortable, as though it weren't recognized by her own heart.

It never made sense. Soon, others started to notice these bouts of peculiarity. She would be happy one moment, then the next she would be throwing a glass at a wall in rage. She would laugh at a joke a friend made, then become cold and allusive, as though they'd deeply offended her. The mixture of her own emotions with this onslaught of rogue ones was dizzying, often making her sick.

Then there were the voices. Sometimes she truly felt like there were people whispering in her ear from another dimension. She felt crazy. And she knew she seemed crazy to others, especially when the periods of double-vision began to happen more and more often. She would teeter as if on a boat, clutching something close to her until she got her bearing. Sometimes she saw greenery. Sometimes she saw rooms of a house. Not knowing what to do or how to control it all, Hermione could only pray that one day her mind would repair itself.

Because she knew only one thing for sure: Her mind had shattered that day in Malfoy Manor.

AN: Thank you for stopping by to read the prologue of my latest story! I was thinking about waiting to post this until Camp NaNo was over, but was too excited for it. I'm writing this for a Blaise Awareness Challenge, so I'll bet you can guess what the pairing is going to be... ;) Thanks again for reading and I look forward to hearing from you!

Amanda