The End of the World.
~*~
Chapter 10: Hermione
It was Ron who first heard the footsteps - Hermione was too deep in thought.
"Hermione - do you hear something?" Ron's voice suddenly cut through the darkness. Hermione jumped, jolted out of her thoughts.
Frowning her forehead in concentration, she listened.
"Footsteps," she whispered. "They're coming back."
Ron shuffled over to where Hermione's voice came from and grabbed her small, cold hand in his.
"What do you think they're going to do?" he whispered back, the panic in his voice very clear as his words bounced around the room.
"I - I don't know. Maybe they're bringing someone else in here. Maybe they're bringing us food or something . . ." Hermione's voice trailed off as the footsteps became louder. Ron was squeezing her hand so tightly that Hermione thought her fingers were probably turning purple, but she didn't say anything - the colour of her fingers was awfully trivial in the face of the unknown danger that was coming there way.
Hermione felt her heart thumping loudly in her throat, and despite the freezing air, sweat had broken out across her forehead and down her back.
The footsteps became louder, and it soon became evident that there was more than one set echoing around the dungeons - there were at least two people coming.
Any hopes that the approaching footsteps would be friendly - or at least civil - were thrown from Hermione's mind - it didn't take more than one person to bring a couple of bowls of porridge or a mouldy piece of fruit.
The footsteps grew louder until the echo's bounced madly around the small enclosure, sounding as if Ron and Hermione were surrounded by dozens of people. Then they stopped.
A low voice growled out a few words and the door magicked open. Silhouetted by the flickering candlelight behind, Hermione and Ron saw not two, but four hooded figures. Panic gripped at Hermione's throat and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her short (practical, she always said) fingernails dug deep half moons into Ron's badly trembling hand.
For a long time it seemed as though the figures were just going to stand there. Hermione's lungs were screaming and she realised she was holding her breath . . . but she didn't let it go. Her mind was yelling unreasonably at her, telling her not to move, not to make a sound - perhaps they would just go away.
They didn't.
The first of the four stepped over the threshold and into their tiny prison. A low rumble from the hooded wizard lit the end of his wand and Hermione was blinded by the sudden light - her eyes had not seen anything more than the faint candlelight from the hallway beyond their dungeon door for over eighteen hours.
Blinking and cowering like small nocturnal animals caught in a spotlight, Ron and Hermione huddled together on the cold, slimy floor.
The other three figures entered the room and flanked the first on either side. Before Hermione had time to wonder what they were going to do, she was thrown backwards by the force of the curse aimed at her by one of the Death Eaters.
She convulsed on the ground as the electric pain sped through her nervous system, setting every inch of her body on fire. The wizard cackled wildly as her deafening screams were magnified a hundredfold in the cold echo of the dungeons. Her body was bashed and beaten on the stone ground, but she felt none of that - the pain of the curse was too intense to notice anything outside of her body.
On the ground next to her, Ron was shuddering and howling as the same curse ravaged his body as well.
The pain continued forever . . . Hermione's head was screaming - please let her die. To die would be such relief . . . please, please put her out of this pain. . .
Just when she thought she could stand no more pain, it stopped. She lay panting on the ground, tears flowing freely down her muddied face. Her hair was wilder than usual, dirty and slimy from the floor. Her nerves were still stinging from the curse and her body ached from the new bruises and scratches she had received from the rough stone floor. She felt drained of energy - she was too tired to move, too tired to sob. She closed her eyes and felt her mind drift up and away, leaving her aching, broken body behind as she fell into blissful unconsciousness.
~*~
Hermione woke slowly. Her eyes were unfocused and bleary, and her head felt as though it had been run over by a truck - or possibly two.
Where was she?
Hermione struggled to make her brain work faster - it seemed to be moving so sluggishly and slowly, as if trying to wade through a thick swamp.
It was brighter in here . . . certainly brighter than in the complete blackness of the other cell. And she was standing upright - that couldn't be right. She had been lying down before. How did she get there? She tried to move her hand, but it felt heavy and lifeless.
Her vision slowly swam into focus.
From what she could see, she was in a large, circular room. Twenty feet away, free-standing candelabras stood side by side against the black stone wall ahead of her. As she gazed at these, the only decorations she could see in the room, she realised that the candelabras were some sort of black metal carved into the shape of long, entwined serpents. Glittering green stones were inset as the snake's eyes, and in the flickering candlelight they seemed to be alive and aware, watching her and guarding her.
As the heavy fog in her mind slowly cleared, Hermione realised that she was tied to a large pillar in the centre of the room - thick, heavy rope pinned her hands to her sides and it seemed as if she was being held there by magic as well - she couldn't move at all.
Hermione's head still pounded as he closed her eyes in resignation. She had been moved out of her freezing, dark prison to be tied up here.
Opening her eyes again, Hermione felt her heart skip a beat - the snakes had moved. She was sure of it. They were twisted in different positions . . . entwined around each other in different ways . . . had they moved while her eyes were closed? Or was her overtired mind playing tricks on her?
Suddenly remembering Ron, Hermione tried to look around the room, but she couldn't turn her head. All she could see was the black stone wall in front of her, and the eerie snake candelabras.
She had no idea where they had taken Ron . . . Hermione only hoped that he was better of than she was. But she didn't know where would be better - tied up in this strange, creepy room, or locked away in the pitch blackness of the other dungeon.
What was going to happen to her now?
~*~
The snakes were alive. They were watching her. Their emerald eyes glinted with life. Every time she closed her eyes - even for a second - they moved. Hermione could swear they were getting closer, closing in on her.
She could hear the dry slithering of their jet black bodies as they moved. She could hear them hiss softly, menacingly without even moving their mouths. The tall black tapers they held never grew shorter as the minutes passed; they didn't go out or melt molten wax down their sides.
She could feel them closing in closer and closer behind her where she couldn't see. It would only be a matter of time before they reached her . . . and then what?
Would she feel their cold, scaly bodies twist slowly up her legs? Would they slither under her dress and around her bruised body and squeeze her until she could no longer breathe? Or would they slide slowly up her body until they reached her face and smothered her? Or would they kill her quickly with a single bite from venomous fangs?
Hermione's heart raced wildly in her chest and her eyes flicked frantically from side to side, trying to catch the snakes moving. She never saw them alter position, but no matter how fast she moved her gaze, they always changed the second she took her eyes off them.
They were getting closer and closer. Hermione guessed they were only about ten feet away from her now. She could feel the terror building up inside her, welling itself up into a fiery ball in her stomach.
She gritted her teeth, trying to hold back her screams. She clenched her fists into tight balls; she could feel every muscle in her body tensed with fear.
She wasn't going to scream. She wasn't going to let the snakes know she was afraid. She wouldn't let them know she knew they were moving. She would stay calm. She would stay composed. She wouldn't panic.
A cold, dry body slithered over her foot.
Her terror swelled and she could not longer hold it in. Closing her eyes she screamed shrilly. She screamed until her lungs ran out of air, screamed until she could scream no more.
There was something wrong - there were no scaly bodies climbing up her legs . . . nothing rubbing against her calves.
She opened her eyes. The snake candelabras were back around the walls, holding their black candles high against the stone walls. They were standing is if they hadn't moved at all - as if they had been there all along. Perhaps they had been. Perhaps it had all been her imagination.
But all thought of the snakes had been pushed far out of her mind.
Standing ten feet in front of her, pale faced and hooded in swirling black robes, was Lord Voldemort. "Mudblood filth," he hissed as his red eyes glinted coldly and his white face screwed up in disgust.
All of a sudden, Hermione wished she was back in the dark.
~*~
A/N Jeepers creepers this is a long chapter. I mean, not compared to the 10,000 word ones some fanfic authors churn out, but long for me :P Creepy too *shudders* ew, snakes.
And yeah . . . I remember promising you that there would be answers in this chapter . . . but there aren't really, are there. BUT if it makes you feel any better, I have already written the draft of the next chapter!! The more reviews I get the more motivated I will be to check it and make sure it's good and happy and raddaradda and then I can post it! Hurrah for quick updates!!
Chapter 11: It seems like Draco has saved her, but has he really? Or has he just led Ginny into a Death Eater trap?
Stay tuned for the next dialogue-packed instalment of "The End of the World". . . (Ha-ha! How cheesy. I definitely watch waaay too many soaps.)
~*~
Chapter 10: Hermione
It was Ron who first heard the footsteps - Hermione was too deep in thought.
"Hermione - do you hear something?" Ron's voice suddenly cut through the darkness. Hermione jumped, jolted out of her thoughts.
Frowning her forehead in concentration, she listened.
"Footsteps," she whispered. "They're coming back."
Ron shuffled over to where Hermione's voice came from and grabbed her small, cold hand in his.
"What do you think they're going to do?" he whispered back, the panic in his voice very clear as his words bounced around the room.
"I - I don't know. Maybe they're bringing someone else in here. Maybe they're bringing us food or something . . ." Hermione's voice trailed off as the footsteps became louder. Ron was squeezing her hand so tightly that Hermione thought her fingers were probably turning purple, but she didn't say anything - the colour of her fingers was awfully trivial in the face of the unknown danger that was coming there way.
Hermione felt her heart thumping loudly in her throat, and despite the freezing air, sweat had broken out across her forehead and down her back.
The footsteps became louder, and it soon became evident that there was more than one set echoing around the dungeons - there were at least two people coming.
Any hopes that the approaching footsteps would be friendly - or at least civil - were thrown from Hermione's mind - it didn't take more than one person to bring a couple of bowls of porridge or a mouldy piece of fruit.
The footsteps grew louder until the echo's bounced madly around the small enclosure, sounding as if Ron and Hermione were surrounded by dozens of people. Then they stopped.
A low voice growled out a few words and the door magicked open. Silhouetted by the flickering candlelight behind, Hermione and Ron saw not two, but four hooded figures. Panic gripped at Hermione's throat and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her short (practical, she always said) fingernails dug deep half moons into Ron's badly trembling hand.
For a long time it seemed as though the figures were just going to stand there. Hermione's lungs were screaming and she realised she was holding her breath . . . but she didn't let it go. Her mind was yelling unreasonably at her, telling her not to move, not to make a sound - perhaps they would just go away.
They didn't.
The first of the four stepped over the threshold and into their tiny prison. A low rumble from the hooded wizard lit the end of his wand and Hermione was blinded by the sudden light - her eyes had not seen anything more than the faint candlelight from the hallway beyond their dungeon door for over eighteen hours.
Blinking and cowering like small nocturnal animals caught in a spotlight, Ron and Hermione huddled together on the cold, slimy floor.
The other three figures entered the room and flanked the first on either side. Before Hermione had time to wonder what they were going to do, she was thrown backwards by the force of the curse aimed at her by one of the Death Eaters.
She convulsed on the ground as the electric pain sped through her nervous system, setting every inch of her body on fire. The wizard cackled wildly as her deafening screams were magnified a hundredfold in the cold echo of the dungeons. Her body was bashed and beaten on the stone ground, but she felt none of that - the pain of the curse was too intense to notice anything outside of her body.
On the ground next to her, Ron was shuddering and howling as the same curse ravaged his body as well.
The pain continued forever . . . Hermione's head was screaming - please let her die. To die would be such relief . . . please, please put her out of this pain. . .
Just when she thought she could stand no more pain, it stopped. She lay panting on the ground, tears flowing freely down her muddied face. Her hair was wilder than usual, dirty and slimy from the floor. Her nerves were still stinging from the curse and her body ached from the new bruises and scratches she had received from the rough stone floor. She felt drained of energy - she was too tired to move, too tired to sob. She closed her eyes and felt her mind drift up and away, leaving her aching, broken body behind as she fell into blissful unconsciousness.
~*~
Hermione woke slowly. Her eyes were unfocused and bleary, and her head felt as though it had been run over by a truck - or possibly two.
Where was she?
Hermione struggled to make her brain work faster - it seemed to be moving so sluggishly and slowly, as if trying to wade through a thick swamp.
It was brighter in here . . . certainly brighter than in the complete blackness of the other cell. And she was standing upright - that couldn't be right. She had been lying down before. How did she get there? She tried to move her hand, but it felt heavy and lifeless.
Her vision slowly swam into focus.
From what she could see, she was in a large, circular room. Twenty feet away, free-standing candelabras stood side by side against the black stone wall ahead of her. As she gazed at these, the only decorations she could see in the room, she realised that the candelabras were some sort of black metal carved into the shape of long, entwined serpents. Glittering green stones were inset as the snake's eyes, and in the flickering candlelight they seemed to be alive and aware, watching her and guarding her.
As the heavy fog in her mind slowly cleared, Hermione realised that she was tied to a large pillar in the centre of the room - thick, heavy rope pinned her hands to her sides and it seemed as if she was being held there by magic as well - she couldn't move at all.
Hermione's head still pounded as he closed her eyes in resignation. She had been moved out of her freezing, dark prison to be tied up here.
Opening her eyes again, Hermione felt her heart skip a beat - the snakes had moved. She was sure of it. They were twisted in different positions . . . entwined around each other in different ways . . . had they moved while her eyes were closed? Or was her overtired mind playing tricks on her?
Suddenly remembering Ron, Hermione tried to look around the room, but she couldn't turn her head. All she could see was the black stone wall in front of her, and the eerie snake candelabras.
She had no idea where they had taken Ron . . . Hermione only hoped that he was better of than she was. But she didn't know where would be better - tied up in this strange, creepy room, or locked away in the pitch blackness of the other dungeon.
What was going to happen to her now?
~*~
The snakes were alive. They were watching her. Their emerald eyes glinted with life. Every time she closed her eyes - even for a second - they moved. Hermione could swear they were getting closer, closing in on her.
She could hear the dry slithering of their jet black bodies as they moved. She could hear them hiss softly, menacingly without even moving their mouths. The tall black tapers they held never grew shorter as the minutes passed; they didn't go out or melt molten wax down their sides.
She could feel them closing in closer and closer behind her where she couldn't see. It would only be a matter of time before they reached her . . . and then what?
Would she feel their cold, scaly bodies twist slowly up her legs? Would they slither under her dress and around her bruised body and squeeze her until she could no longer breathe? Or would they slide slowly up her body until they reached her face and smothered her? Or would they kill her quickly with a single bite from venomous fangs?
Hermione's heart raced wildly in her chest and her eyes flicked frantically from side to side, trying to catch the snakes moving. She never saw them alter position, but no matter how fast she moved her gaze, they always changed the second she took her eyes off them.
They were getting closer and closer. Hermione guessed they were only about ten feet away from her now. She could feel the terror building up inside her, welling itself up into a fiery ball in her stomach.
She gritted her teeth, trying to hold back her screams. She clenched her fists into tight balls; she could feel every muscle in her body tensed with fear.
She wasn't going to scream. She wasn't going to let the snakes know she was afraid. She wouldn't let them know she knew they were moving. She would stay calm. She would stay composed. She wouldn't panic.
A cold, dry body slithered over her foot.
Her terror swelled and she could not longer hold it in. Closing her eyes she screamed shrilly. She screamed until her lungs ran out of air, screamed until she could scream no more.
There was something wrong - there were no scaly bodies climbing up her legs . . . nothing rubbing against her calves.
She opened her eyes. The snake candelabras were back around the walls, holding their black candles high against the stone walls. They were standing is if they hadn't moved at all - as if they had been there all along. Perhaps they had been. Perhaps it had all been her imagination.
But all thought of the snakes had been pushed far out of her mind.
Standing ten feet in front of her, pale faced and hooded in swirling black robes, was Lord Voldemort. "Mudblood filth," he hissed as his red eyes glinted coldly and his white face screwed up in disgust.
All of a sudden, Hermione wished she was back in the dark.
~*~
A/N Jeepers creepers this is a long chapter. I mean, not compared to the 10,000 word ones some fanfic authors churn out, but long for me :P Creepy too *shudders* ew, snakes.
And yeah . . . I remember promising you that there would be answers in this chapter . . . but there aren't really, are there. BUT if it makes you feel any better, I have already written the draft of the next chapter!! The more reviews I get the more motivated I will be to check it and make sure it's good and happy and raddaradda and then I can post it! Hurrah for quick updates!!
Chapter 11: It seems like Draco has saved her, but has he really? Or has he just led Ginny into a Death Eater trap?
Stay tuned for the next dialogue-packed instalment of "The End of the World". . . (Ha-ha! How cheesy. I definitely watch waaay too many soaps.)