Disclaimer- I own nothing of J.K. Rowling's, I just distort her characters!
P.S.- the setting is at night, Post Hogwarts.
Oh yeah- Hermione broke her arm during a Dark Raid.
~*Hermione's POV*~
My friends, Harry and Ron, sit by the fire, playing chess, while Ginny, Ron's sister and my sometimes-confidante, watches. This game does not interest me much, so while they play I usually sit back ad ponder things that have happened. I remember the days when I was in school. How innocent my friends and I were, especially me. Nothing could have possibly prepared me for the days of pain in our seventh year, the unspeakable horrors we would be put through. How we all thought that the Dark Lord was conquered, when at the last moment he sprung up, stronger than ever. Thus, the war still rages on. I remember the decisions. The choices we made, that I made, and how the bad choices outweighed the good. No matter. Now we are grown, and there is no room for repentance, no time for regret. I shake my head to clear it, and focus back on the present. Harry and Ron are still playing, Ginny is still watching. They are too engrossed in the game to take notice of me. At that moment, my right arm sears with pain, concentrating on my forearm, and I clutch it reflexively. This they notice. "Hermione?" Ron says curiously, while Ginny and Harry's faces contort with worry. I shake my mane of brown curls, frantically thinking of a way out of this mess. " My arm still hurts a bit." I complain. This should work. After all, I did break my arm about three months ago, and it still hurts once in awhile, though not nearly as harsh as now. Ron and Ginny nod and turn away- they believed my story about falling off a broomstick. Harry's eyes linger on me for a moment, however- piercing green orbs clouded with suspicion. He never believed my story, I know, but to save our friendship he asked no questions. How sweet. Friendship is but a trivial matter to me now. My arm burns with pain again. Fighting the impulse to grab it, I stand up with the knowledge that I have earned at least 30 minutes of the Cruciatus curse. My friends all turn to look at me. "I am going out," I say, barely managing to get the words out. "Don't wait up for me." As I head towards the door, I can feel Harry's eyes follow me. It angers me, but I ignore him. Let the Potter boy be suspicious. I can deal with him later, but now my master calls me.
END
Was it good? Read and Review- flames used to cook my morning eggs and bacon.
~*Hermione's POV*~
My friends, Harry and Ron, sit by the fire, playing chess, while Ginny, Ron's sister and my sometimes-confidante, watches. This game does not interest me much, so while they play I usually sit back ad ponder things that have happened. I remember the days when I was in school. How innocent my friends and I were, especially me. Nothing could have possibly prepared me for the days of pain in our seventh year, the unspeakable horrors we would be put through. How we all thought that the Dark Lord was conquered, when at the last moment he sprung up, stronger than ever. Thus, the war still rages on. I remember the decisions. The choices we made, that I made, and how the bad choices outweighed the good. No matter. Now we are grown, and there is no room for repentance, no time for regret. I shake my head to clear it, and focus back on the present. Harry and Ron are still playing, Ginny is still watching. They are too engrossed in the game to take notice of me. At that moment, my right arm sears with pain, concentrating on my forearm, and I clutch it reflexively. This they notice. "Hermione?" Ron says curiously, while Ginny and Harry's faces contort with worry. I shake my mane of brown curls, frantically thinking of a way out of this mess. " My arm still hurts a bit." I complain. This should work. After all, I did break my arm about three months ago, and it still hurts once in awhile, though not nearly as harsh as now. Ron and Ginny nod and turn away- they believed my story about falling off a broomstick. Harry's eyes linger on me for a moment, however- piercing green orbs clouded with suspicion. He never believed my story, I know, but to save our friendship he asked no questions. How sweet. Friendship is but a trivial matter to me now. My arm burns with pain again. Fighting the impulse to grab it, I stand up with the knowledge that I have earned at least 30 minutes of the Cruciatus curse. My friends all turn to look at me. "I am going out," I say, barely managing to get the words out. "Don't wait up for me." As I head towards the door, I can feel Harry's eyes follow me. It angers me, but I ignore him. Let the Potter boy be suspicious. I can deal with him later, but now my master calls me.
END
Was it good? Read and Review- flames used to cook my morning eggs and bacon.