The End of the World.
~*~
Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter gang, things would be a lot different. If I owned JKR, book 6 and 7 would be coming soon. As it is, all I own is a huge student loan, a harp I can't play, and too many pairs of shoes.
~*~
Chapter Two: Hermione
Hermione was drowning in a thick, heavy fog. She couldn't see anything - she could only feel the clingy, damp cold that was trying to pull her down further and further into it's black depths. She struggled upwards - she didn't know why she felt that down was a bad place to go, she just knew if she let the cold pull her down then she would die. Her muscles were straining as she tried to pull herself up and out of the cold - she couldn't breathe, her lungs were screaming for oxygen. But she couldn't give in, she just couldn't. She had to survive.
Hermione's eyelid's flickered, but there was no one to see in the pitch black cell. Her hand twitched, barely moving, but moving nonetheless. Her hair was a tangled mess, escaping from the ponytail that had been holding it back earlier that day and falling across her unconscious face onto the squalid stone floor. Her floral sundress was torn in several places and the wet cotton, covered in muck and slime from the cold floor clung to her small frame like a second skin.
In her unconsciousness, Hermione was still fighting against the thick, heavy cold. The cold was sticking to her like glue, weighing down her limbs. No matter how hard she struggled, the cold kept pulling her further down. Her muscles felt like they were on fire - she couldn't make it. She couldn't escape the engulfing cold. She was sinking down. . . down.
NO! her mind cried. You can't let go. . . you can't stop fighting. . .
With a sudden gasp she regained consciousness and her eye's flew open.
At first Hermione thought she was blind - why couldn't she see anything? Where was she? How had she gotten there? Why was she there?
Why couldn't she see?
Hermione could hear steady dripping noise that sounded like it was echoing around a vast, stone cave - it was a dead, lonely sound. Her head felt like it was exploding with pain and she was shivering - it was cold and damp wherever she was. She waved her hand in front of her face - she couldn't see anything. Slowly she sat up. The back of her thin cotton dress was damp. She felt the ground where she had been lying. It was hard, uneven stone. It was so cold it made her fingers hurt by just brushing them over the rough surface. Her fingertips came away covered in a thin slimy coating. She couldn't see what it was, but she felt ill just thinking about the possibilities. She wiped her fingers on her skirt.
Where was she?
Hermione strained her ears, trying to hear something, anything. Just a tiny hint to where she might be. She could hear nothing but the steady dripping of the water and her uneven, ragged breathing. Hermione bit her lip, trying to squash the raw panic that was building up inside her, trying to escape. Just breathe, she told herself. In, out, in, out. . .
The panic subsided slightly with her measured breathing. Her head was still pounding, and she couldn't see anything, but Hermione knew that there would be no way out of whatever situation she was in if she lost it. She had to stay cool, calm, collected.
Wetness was seeping in through her thin clothes, and the thought that her cotton dress was probably ruined beyond recognition suddenly flashed through her mind. The thought was so random and irrelevant in the big scheme of things that giddy, maniac laughter suddenly bubbled up inside her and burst out in a high-pitched, nervous giggle. The sudden noise startled her into silence - what if someone had heard her? Someone whom she did not want to alert to the fact that she was here and still alive. . .
There was a low hiss then a scrabbling noise as something large, wet, and furry ran past Hermione, scrambling over her bare legs. Hermione's hysteria boiled over and she screamed loudly. She leapt to her feet, throwing the bold animal off her naked legs and frantically lurched backwards into the unknown darkness. Her back slammed into a cold, wet wall and the wind was knocked out of her. Her heart was thudding loudly in her chest, adrenalin pounding through her veins as she gasped urgently at the air, trying to draw breath into her desperate lungs. She could still feel the animal's claws scratching at her skin, still feel it's slimy warmth pressing into her legs. Just when she thought she would pass out, Hermione's lungs filled with dank air. Hermione stood with her back pressed against the freezing stone wall, panting unevenly. She could feel wetness on her cheeks and it was then that she realised she was crying.
A sob racked Hermione's shivering body as she let out a shaky breath. She wiped furiously at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that were pouring down her face, but they would not relent. As the adrenalin subsided from her bloodstream, Hermione's blind panic slipped away and was replaced by absolute despair.
She couldn't see. She had no idea where she was, and no idea how she had got there. She was alone, trapped in a black, wet cell somewhere with who knew how many giant rats scurrying around, waiting for her to die so they could gnaw at her flesh with their yellow, poisonous teeth.
Hermione slid down the wall and came to rest sitting on the damp, slimy floor. Her head was still thumping in pain - more so now after all her screaming and running. The scratches on her legs were stinging and she could feel the long marks on her legs with her cold fingers. Hermione stopped fighting back her sobs and they came forth freely, shaking her aching body as she cried vainly into her arms.
For the first time in her life, Hermione didn't know what to do.
~*~
Hermione was startled out of her thoughts some time later. She had cried out all the tears she had, and was left feeling empty and exhausted. She brushed away the wet hair sticking to her tearstained cheeks and strained her ears, hoping to hear the noise again.
Yes - there it was. A steady, rhythmic noise, getting slowly louder. Her forehead was crumpled in concentration as she tried to place the foreign noise. She felt like she had been shut up in the stone cell for so long she couldn't remember what it was like to be outside it. . . but she dimly recognised the noise as one she had heard many times in that bright time so long ago.
Footsteps! That was it! Someone was coming to her cell.
With her heart in her mouth, Hermione leapt to her feet. Was someone coming to save her? She twisted her head to the left and right, hoping in vain that perhaps she would see something - anything that would tell her more about the approaching footsteps. It was no use - the cell was as pitch black as ever. . . either that or. . . no - she wouldn't think like that. The cell was just very dark, that was all.
Turning her thoughts back to the approaching footsteps, Hermione tried to work out which way they were coming from - if she found the direction, perhaps she could find the door leading out of here. . . Hermione hit the mucky floor with her fist in frustration - the footsteps were echoing all around the cavernous dungeons. She couldn't tell which direction they were coming from.
Hermione felt an icy hand grip her heart as a terrifying thought occurred to her - what if the person who was approaching wasn't coming to save her at all? Perhaps it was the person who had put her in here coming back to torture her or - Hermione's mouth went dry - kill her. If someone was going to save her, Hermione doubted that they would just be able to waltz in and whisk her away. No, the person coming was no friend of hers.
Breathing fast and shallowly, Hermione waited alone in the blackness for whatever was coming.
~*~
Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter gang, things would be a lot different. If I owned JKR, book 6 and 7 would be coming soon. As it is, all I own is a huge student loan, a harp I can't play, and too many pairs of shoes.
~*~
Chapter Two: Hermione
Hermione was drowning in a thick, heavy fog. She couldn't see anything - she could only feel the clingy, damp cold that was trying to pull her down further and further into it's black depths. She struggled upwards - she didn't know why she felt that down was a bad place to go, she just knew if she let the cold pull her down then she would die. Her muscles were straining as she tried to pull herself up and out of the cold - she couldn't breathe, her lungs were screaming for oxygen. But she couldn't give in, she just couldn't. She had to survive.
Hermione's eyelid's flickered, but there was no one to see in the pitch black cell. Her hand twitched, barely moving, but moving nonetheless. Her hair was a tangled mess, escaping from the ponytail that had been holding it back earlier that day and falling across her unconscious face onto the squalid stone floor. Her floral sundress was torn in several places and the wet cotton, covered in muck and slime from the cold floor clung to her small frame like a second skin.
In her unconsciousness, Hermione was still fighting against the thick, heavy cold. The cold was sticking to her like glue, weighing down her limbs. No matter how hard she struggled, the cold kept pulling her further down. Her muscles felt like they were on fire - she couldn't make it. She couldn't escape the engulfing cold. She was sinking down. . . down.
NO! her mind cried. You can't let go. . . you can't stop fighting. . .
With a sudden gasp she regained consciousness and her eye's flew open.
At first Hermione thought she was blind - why couldn't she see anything? Where was she? How had she gotten there? Why was she there?
Why couldn't she see?
Hermione could hear steady dripping noise that sounded like it was echoing around a vast, stone cave - it was a dead, lonely sound. Her head felt like it was exploding with pain and she was shivering - it was cold and damp wherever she was. She waved her hand in front of her face - she couldn't see anything. Slowly she sat up. The back of her thin cotton dress was damp. She felt the ground where she had been lying. It was hard, uneven stone. It was so cold it made her fingers hurt by just brushing them over the rough surface. Her fingertips came away covered in a thin slimy coating. She couldn't see what it was, but she felt ill just thinking about the possibilities. She wiped her fingers on her skirt.
Where was she?
Hermione strained her ears, trying to hear something, anything. Just a tiny hint to where she might be. She could hear nothing but the steady dripping of the water and her uneven, ragged breathing. Hermione bit her lip, trying to squash the raw panic that was building up inside her, trying to escape. Just breathe, she told herself. In, out, in, out. . .
The panic subsided slightly with her measured breathing. Her head was still pounding, and she couldn't see anything, but Hermione knew that there would be no way out of whatever situation she was in if she lost it. She had to stay cool, calm, collected.
Wetness was seeping in through her thin clothes, and the thought that her cotton dress was probably ruined beyond recognition suddenly flashed through her mind. The thought was so random and irrelevant in the big scheme of things that giddy, maniac laughter suddenly bubbled up inside her and burst out in a high-pitched, nervous giggle. The sudden noise startled her into silence - what if someone had heard her? Someone whom she did not want to alert to the fact that she was here and still alive. . .
There was a low hiss then a scrabbling noise as something large, wet, and furry ran past Hermione, scrambling over her bare legs. Hermione's hysteria boiled over and she screamed loudly. She leapt to her feet, throwing the bold animal off her naked legs and frantically lurched backwards into the unknown darkness. Her back slammed into a cold, wet wall and the wind was knocked out of her. Her heart was thudding loudly in her chest, adrenalin pounding through her veins as she gasped urgently at the air, trying to draw breath into her desperate lungs. She could still feel the animal's claws scratching at her skin, still feel it's slimy warmth pressing into her legs. Just when she thought she would pass out, Hermione's lungs filled with dank air. Hermione stood with her back pressed against the freezing stone wall, panting unevenly. She could feel wetness on her cheeks and it was then that she realised she was crying.
A sob racked Hermione's shivering body as she let out a shaky breath. She wiped furiously at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that were pouring down her face, but they would not relent. As the adrenalin subsided from her bloodstream, Hermione's blind panic slipped away and was replaced by absolute despair.
She couldn't see. She had no idea where she was, and no idea how she had got there. She was alone, trapped in a black, wet cell somewhere with who knew how many giant rats scurrying around, waiting for her to die so they could gnaw at her flesh with their yellow, poisonous teeth.
Hermione slid down the wall and came to rest sitting on the damp, slimy floor. Her head was still thumping in pain - more so now after all her screaming and running. The scratches on her legs were stinging and she could feel the long marks on her legs with her cold fingers. Hermione stopped fighting back her sobs and they came forth freely, shaking her aching body as she cried vainly into her arms.
For the first time in her life, Hermione didn't know what to do.
~*~
Hermione was startled out of her thoughts some time later. She had cried out all the tears she had, and was left feeling empty and exhausted. She brushed away the wet hair sticking to her tearstained cheeks and strained her ears, hoping to hear the noise again.
Yes - there it was. A steady, rhythmic noise, getting slowly louder. Her forehead was crumpled in concentration as she tried to place the foreign noise. She felt like she had been shut up in the stone cell for so long she couldn't remember what it was like to be outside it. . . but she dimly recognised the noise as one she had heard many times in that bright time so long ago.
Footsteps! That was it! Someone was coming to her cell.
With her heart in her mouth, Hermione leapt to her feet. Was someone coming to save her? She twisted her head to the left and right, hoping in vain that perhaps she would see something - anything that would tell her more about the approaching footsteps. It was no use - the cell was as pitch black as ever. . . either that or. . . no - she wouldn't think like that. The cell was just very dark, that was all.
Turning her thoughts back to the approaching footsteps, Hermione tried to work out which way they were coming from - if she found the direction, perhaps she could find the door leading out of here. . . Hermione hit the mucky floor with her fist in frustration - the footsteps were echoing all around the cavernous dungeons. She couldn't tell which direction they were coming from.
Hermione felt an icy hand grip her heart as a terrifying thought occurred to her - what if the person who was approaching wasn't coming to save her at all? Perhaps it was the person who had put her in here coming back to torture her or - Hermione's mouth went dry - kill her. If someone was going to save her, Hermione doubted that they would just be able to waltz in and whisk her away. No, the person coming was no friend of hers.
Breathing fast and shallowly, Hermione waited alone in the blackness for whatever was coming.
