A/N- Ok, hello everyone, and welcome to the first chapter of this story. Again it's a little short, but this was really all i could squeeze in without making it cheesy or something like that (plus the fact that by writing this chapter I was putting off writing an awful geometry essay... Ok geometry is math, why should I have to write an essay about it. Lets save that for english class... sorry i'm ranting) But I think I accomplish a lot in this chapter. I always try to incorporate religion into my stories, and I felt that it was really needed in this story, and will probably be featured a lot throughout the rest of it, so I'm sorry if I offend anyone with some of my statements. I've gone to Catholic Schools my whole life, so if there's one thing I know down pat it's religion. Thanks for the nice reviews. They were both very through, which made me happy! So keep it up and REVIEW! I hope you like it!
Chapter One- Heaven and Hell
I felt heavy, as if a weight was pressed against my arms and chest. I tried slowly to breathe, but the breath only hitched in my chest as my lungs fought through the weight to get a fair amount of air. I no longer felt the sensation of being carried. Instead, I felt the weight of gravity strongly dragging me towards the ground and the soft surface that I was laying on.
I never thought heaven would be so uncomfortable. It was an odd concept to come to terms with. In all the religious images I had seen throughout the years had been filled with beautiful shining lights, choirs of lovely angles, and perfected version of human beings. In these same images, hell had been a fiery blaze of misery, not so much unlike the inferno that had surrounded me before my death. To me, both heaven and hell represented two extremes: good and evil, pure and impure, heavenly bliss and eternal anguish.
But the state I was in didn't appear to by any of those things. I didn't feel good or well at all. A dull pain was throbbing in my leg, and the weight pushing against my chest had yet to subside. It was uncomfortable, but it was not the agony. It was nowhere near the feelings that were usually associated with hell, or even heaven for that matter.
A suddenly thought entered my head. Somewhere in the depths of my mind I could remember my paternal grandmother preaching to our family. Grandma Granger had always been deeply religious, and took her Catholicism seriously. She used to preach to my parents that they should set more boundaries for me, so that I would spend less time in purgatory. Hell was not even an option for her granddaughter. It goes without saying, that she was one of my relatives which we never confided the fact that I'm a witch with.
Yet, I couldn't help but wonder. Was thing some strange form of purgatory? Had God really cared that much that I had been a witch not to allow me direct access into heaven? I tried to make a quick laundry list of my major sins and major moments of virtue. It second grossly outweighed the first. This couldn't be purgatory, I decided. But if it wasn't that what else could it be?
A strange cooling sensation began to spread throughout my body, and after I moment I realized it was originating at my forehead. The sheer coolness was enough to jolt me out of my cloudy thoughts. From what seemed like a long distance, I heard someone muttering incoherent words. The weight seemed to have been lightly lifted from my chest. Air began to stream into my lungs at a rampant pace. Blood was now pumping freely into my brain. Sudden awareness hit me, and I knew what was happening. No, I was not in heaven or hell. I was very much alive.
How that was possible I didn't know. I felt it. I felt the darkness envelope around me, and the nice sensation of being carried away to that unconsciousness. None of it made sense. I shouldn't be able to breathe. My leg shouldn't be hurting the way it did. I should be hearing choirs of angels singing their beautiful songs instead of the incessant murmurings of a stranger. I was not supposed to be alive right now.
"Hermione?" a clear strong voice came from directly overhead. "Hermione you have to open your eyes now. I know you're awake. You just have to work with me now."
My clear brain fogged again at this sudden proclamation. The strange male voice was still talking to me, urging me to open my eyes, but none of it made sense. No, one else could have survived the accident, if I even did. If I was alive, surely I would be alone. And then there were this man's strange requests. He kept repeating that I needed to open my eyes, as if it were the most important thing in the world.
Then another thought popped into my head. What if I had been right the first time and I was indeed dead. I had not been wrong very many times in life why should that be different in death? Surely we must carry at least a little bit of our original selves into the afterworld. This man, well, he could very much not be a man at all. He could be a God. The God.
I remembered stories from the bible of numerous prophets speaking directly to God, but it seemed very unlikely that I should be one of those people. According to my grandmother, Jesus was the last and ultimate prophet, and that there would be no other until the end of time when Jesus would lead us to salvation. At the time I had rolled my eyes like teenagers tend to do. I had never been overly religious.
Now lying here listening to the man plead with me, I couldn't help but mull over everything about religion that I had once disregarded. Organized religion to me had always seemed for the ignorant and self-conscious. The cult like qualities of the whole thing was enough to turn me away from it all together. It hardly seemed rational for people to go to church to praise God, when you're supposed to be praising God at every opportunity. And if there was one thing Hermione Granger had been in life, it was rational.
But, what if my instincts had been wrong? Although it was rare, my instincts had been wrong on more than one occasion. What if, while I was totally disregarding God, he was up in heaven watching my every move? And, now that I had died, he finally wanted a word with me, to make up for all those lost years that I had not spoken to him. What would happen to me if I did open my eyes and face God? What consequences would he throw at me for my many years of unforgiving sins?
"Come on Hermione. It's ok." The voice was softer more desperate this time. "You will be ok just as long as you open your eyes."
That was all it took. There was something about that voice. It was soft and trustworthy, like I had heard it a million times. And I knew from that voice that it was God who was speaking to me, and that if I followed what he told me to do everything would be alright. I felt the same unwavering faith that I had felt towards Harry all those years, but without the uncertainty of what lies ahead.
So I leapt, I took that step, and I opened my eyes. At first it was a struggle that seemed unbearable. My eyelids lay heavily against the bottom of my eyes, and they seemed reluctant to move from their position. After a few moments of trying, I found that the more I tried the easier my task became. In no time at all I felt my lids lifting, and a sudden burst of light blocked my line of sight.
"Oh, thank God." The voice half shouted.
Now that didn't make any sense. God would not be thanking himself. I looked around incredulously. This was wrong. I was not surrounded by clouds, or angels, or heavenly figures. Instead what appeared to hundreds of papers hung on the walls of the little room I was in, almost surrounding the place. This wasn't heaven, and as I turned to face my God I felt my stomach churn viciously.
My grandmother had been wrong the entire time. Her granddaughter was not meant for heaven, but rather, had ended up in hell.
A/N- So I hope this satisfied anything you wanted or expected. I'm really hoping for a snow day tommorrow, so if i get one I can get the next chapter up more quickly. So pray to God/Alllah/Santa Clause that it snows, and REVIEW! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
