Author's Note: Inspired by the prison worlds in The Vampire Diaries. This one, I feel, is the closest to being turned into a multi-chaptered story. For now, it's rough and unedited. I'll tweak it later. Enjoy.

~Craft Rose


There was a bright, blinding light ahead; a light that consumed everything in its path. In a flash, the world was swallowed by that light - the people, the trees, the animals, and the two sides of the war. Hermione looked to the left, where Ron stood, and buried her face in his chest, as the light consumed them, too. Just like that, it disappeared. Everything she had ever known and loved and care for, vanished as the universe collapsed within itself, and when she opened her eyes again, hoping to find an afterlife of some sort, she instead found nothing.

Hermione gasped for breath, tearing a look around the grounds. The castle wasn't there. The courtyard wasn't there. The greenhouses, the Quidditch Pitch, the boathouse and the Whomping Willow . . . missing.

To her great horror, Ron was missing, too.

As were the others. Harry, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Neville, Luna, Hagrid . . . all of them. She spun in circles, chest rising and falling in quick succession, eyes watering, blood circulating her body faster than ever before. "Hello?" she cried out, stumbling through the grass, darting her attention in every which way, hoping to find some trace of life. "Is . . . is anyone there? I . . . I'm . . . "

Alone, spoke the voice in her head. You're alone. Everyone and everything you hold dear is gone.

Her lips trembled, and she reached into her back pocket for her wand of vine and dragon heartstring core, only to realize, it, too, was nowhere to be found. The brunette looked to the grass, falling to her knees, rubbing both hands along the damp earth in an attempt to find what was missing. But it wasn't there. She searched and searched and searched, and found only dashed hopes and a divine sort of emptiness.

It consumed her tenfold.

"Please . . . " Hermione breathed, slamming her eyes closed to block the tears. "Someone. Anyone."

If this was the afterlife, she wanted no part in it. She would rather have been sucked into a dark, empty abyss than suffer eternity alone.

It was her only fear.

Realized.

"Granger? Is . . . Is that you?"

Her eyes flung open, and she looked to the source of the voice. "Malfoy," was the only thing to escape her lips, before she crawled backwards, hair and clothes matted in dirt and blood from the battle. In front of her, about ten paces away, stood a tall, blonde-haired wizard, dressed in Death Eater black, with a tiny tear on his left sleeve, where the Dark Mark should have been, but wasn't. She froze, looking to him.

"What is this place?" he demanded, inching closer. "Where are we?"

"I . . . I don't know," she forced out, hastily clutching onto the closest object to her, which happened to be a twig.

Malfoy's face screwed, twisting with equal parts panic and rage. "What do you mean you don't know?" he exclaimed, maddened, grabbing her by the shoulders. "WHERE ARE WE?"

In a blink, Hermione slashed him with the twig, drawing blood and released by his firm grip. His excruciating cry pounded her eardrums with heartstopping force, in a way that echoed long after, as she sprinted away from him, as fast and as far as her legs could go. Some distance behind, he shouted after her, filling the quiet with a string of threats and obscenities as she lengthened the gap between them. More and more, the wind rippling through her chocolate brown curls and the bruises on her body rubbing against her clothes, until her legs gave out; a safe distance from him.

Hermione collapsed onto the dirt, chest pumping. Only then, did she stop. Below her, the earth was damp, as though rain had just fallen, which she knew to be untrue, and above, the sky was decorated in warm, vibrant hues, as though it were sunrise . . . but that can't have been true either. It was already daylight, by the time Harry and Voldemort unwittingly cast the world in the bright, blinding force of Priori Incantatem.

Unless . . .

I'm in hell, she realized. I died, and this is hell. That's why he's here. That's why . . . that's why we're here together.

"No," she cried, quietly. "No, no, no." After everything, after every battle and every brush with death, every loss and every promise of a brighter future, the world decided she didn't deserve a future. "This can't be. This . . . can't be."

But it was, and the longer she spent curled in a ball of anguish, the closer he got.

I need to get out of here. I . . . I need to get as far away from him as possible.

She opened her eyes, ready to keep running, because it was the only thing she could do, before a firm hand clapped over her mouth, blocking her cries, as she was lifted off the ground.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find you?" he seethed, restraining her with a surprising amount of strength. Still, she kicked and fought back. "Stop moving! You're only going to make it harder for yourself!"

What does he mean? What is he going to do? What is . . .

Her throat clenched as he began dragging her toward the Great Lake. No, no, no, no, no! With a hard bite on his hand, she managed to free her struggled cries. "You can't! Stop! Let me go!"

"Shut up!" he fired back, screaming the words so loud into her ear, that her body shook. "This is what's going to happen," he told her, concrete in his decision. "I'm going to toss your body into the lake, and you're going to tell me what you find in there. Do you understand?"

"Let me go!" she demanded, elbowing him in the ribs, enough that his grip loosened a little bit. When she tried to do it again, he pinned her to the grass and clasped her wrists above her head, in one hand, using the other to cover her mouth.

In his eyes, she saw pure, unadulterated hatred. And beneath that, fear. He was afraid. Like her, he had no idea where they were, why they were there, or what brought them there.

"You're going to do exactly as I say," he said, straddling her tiny frame. "You're going to go for a nice little swim in that lake and if you survive, we'll at least have one answer."

Oh, my God. The truth dawned on her hard and fast. Suddenly, her eyes began to water. Please, she communicated, using only her eyes. If his suspicions were, in fact, correct, she would die within minutes of entering the lake. That's what he wants. He hates me as much as I hate him, and he's willing to have me killed because of it.

The reality of it shouldn't have shocked her, considering the fact that he had been standing in line with Voldemort about fifteen minutes ago, waiting to kill her and her friends . . . but this was different. This, wasn't forced on him by his parents or his insane Aunt Bellatrix.

This, was his choice, and his choice alone.

"Stop that," he ordered, disgusted by the sight of her tears. "You're . . . You're Gryffindor for fuck's sake! Find some bloody courage and do as I say!"

Hermione bit back the frustration, trying not to sob in front of him, as he lifted her body upright and leaned her over the edge of the lake. One slip of his fingertips and she would fall in, where a colony of vicious creatures would find her and maim her, for invading their territory. If his suspicions were at all correct, the Giant Squid wouldn't be there to protect her or bring her to safety, and the treaty between the Founders and the merpeople wouldn't exist . . . because if his suspicions were correct, the Founders didn't yet exist.

Hence the wide, vast land, where the castle should have stood, but didn't.

She closed her eyes, shaking as Malfoy bent his bent down to whisper in her ear. "Safe travels," the Slytherin hissed, taking a moment to let her breathe, for what could possibly have been the last time, before allowing her jumper to slide from between his fingertips.

"Wait! Wait, stop!" Hermione cried out, sucking in. "If . . . If you do this, and I die, you'll be alone," she said to him, eyes closed, fearful that he didn't care. "You . . . You'll roam this place alone, from now until Merlin knows when. Do . . . Do you really want to risk that?"

Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath travel down her back, the young man tightened his grip. "What makes you think I give a damn?" he asked. "Trust me . . . I would much rather be alone, than be stuck here with you."

She tensed. "You're lying. I know you're lying."

"Believe me, I'm not."

"You are," Hermione countered, doing what little she could. "You're scared. I saw it in your eyes a moment ago and I can hear it in your voice now. You . . . You don't know where we are, or why we're here. None of it makes sense, and . . . and the only reason you're coming after me is to regain control of an otherwise uncontrollable situation." She breathed in and out, trying and trying and trying. " . . . the moment you toss me into that lake, and the moment I die, is the moment you'll realize how irreversibly alone you are. Soon enough, you'll wish you could hear my Mudblood voice . . . you . . . you'll stay awake at night and pray for another person, another soul." She felt his breathing turn shallow, as the words sunk in. "Face it, Malfoy. You need me."

And I need you, she quickly realized, terrified.


Author's Note: Thoughts?