Right, so, I can't sleep until I get this first chapter out, so here it goes...
SUMMERY/PROLOGUE: (PG-13/R for swearing(maybe), violence, sexual content/rape) Five yrs ago, in a desperate attempt to stop Voldemort, 17 yr olds, Ron, Hermione, and Harry planned what was supposed to be a final attack. They succeeded in destroying Voldemort, but at a terrible price. Hermione was taken (and believed to be killed) by a group of Death Eaters led by Draco Malfoy. No Death Eater has been caught since, and under the trio's old school enemy they have been gaining power. In depression, Ron threw himself into his work as an auror. Now, plans are being made once again for a final attack, but there are a few complications no one planned on...
'Cause I hardly think about it anymore
Oh, it's just a distant memory
And I hardly think about it anymore
What happened to the dream
And it only hurts when I breathe
-Breathe by: Rose and Billy Falcon
Hermione kept her eyes tightly shut. She did not want to wake up to a nightmare. She wanted to stay in her dreams. She wanted to still think she was in Ron's arms. How long had it been since she wasn't repulsed by the person holding her? Years it seemed. Who knew? Maybe it had been years.
She slipped out of bed and put on her ratty, torn up clothes. It wasn't good to dwell on dreams. If she had learned one thing in her time in the room at the bottom of a creaky staircase, it was that dreaming did not help matters. It only brought more pain. She knew that her friends had stopped looking for her long ago, whenever her torturer felt it necessary, he would reminder. She had been told time and time again that they no longer cared, that they had gotten on with their lives, but every time Hermione felt herself thinking it was true, she stopped herself. They still cared, but they just didn't think she was still alive. That had to be it. Still, she was bitter. When she still had hoped, she dreamt of Ron flying in and romantically rescuing her, bringing her away from her hell. She had given up though, turned her thoughts toward him sour, for believing that she could possibly be dead. Still, it was a nice dream...
They had been speeding down the country side on his broom. Though she was deathly afraid of flying, she would give anything to fly, if Ron was there with her. She had been at the front of his broom, his arms around her. He would whisper sweet, loving things in her ear. His hands were on hers and-
"Thinking about Weasley again are we?" The familiar, cold, cruel voice reminded her she was still in her nightmare.
"Ron, go home," Tonks stared down at the young auror with authority. "You do us no good, if you can barely keep your eyes open." Ron nodded. He hadn't slept in days. They had a clue where Malfoy was and that was all he could think about, when he remembered not to think about... her, at least.
He made his way home to his empty flat. He shared it with Harry, when he wasn't at the Ministry. Now, Harry was out somewhere, either working with Moody, or with Ron's younger sister, Ginny. He decided not to think about it.
Seeing them together made him sick. Not because he was her older brother and it was just wrong for his best friend to be dating her, but because they reminded him of... her. No, don't think about that, he reminded himself bitterly.
He flopped down onto his bed and tried to sleep. Her face filled every inch of his mind. He couldn't find peace; he didn't think he ever would...
Mafloy forced her onto the bed, taking her clothes off. He really didn't know why she bothered to dress anymore. It's not like she struggled. She hadn't struggled in years. He hated it when she thought about Weasley. She always got that expression on her face. Of course, for him, it wasn't about sex. He'd rather not be screwing a mudblood like herself; it was about power and the delight he got from her pain.
"Now, what have I said about those dreams?" he asked, letting his own robes fall off his body. She sobbed, but didn't respond. He didn't like that. He was her master, and she would respond when he asked her a question. He slapped her several times in the face. Thinking that got his point across, he asked again, "What have I said about those dreams?"
"Please," she whispered pitifully. Now, if it was one thing he could stand it was when people asked him for mercy. He threw her across the room. Her naked body skidded across the floor. He could hear her stupid sobbing. He went across and kicked her hard. She yelped in pain. He kicked her again and again and again. "Now, we're going to try this again. What have in said?" Gathering up her remaining strength, Hermione let the words slide pitifully out of her mouth, before fainting from the pain.
SUMMERY/PROLOGUE: (PG-13/R for swearing(maybe), violence, sexual content/rape) Five yrs ago, in a desperate attempt to stop Voldemort, 17 yr olds, Ron, Hermione, and Harry planned what was supposed to be a final attack. They succeeded in destroying Voldemort, but at a terrible price. Hermione was taken (and believed to be killed) by a group of Death Eaters led by Draco Malfoy. No Death Eater has been caught since, and under the trio's old school enemy they have been gaining power. In depression, Ron threw himself into his work as an auror. Now, plans are being made once again for a final attack, but there are a few complications no one planned on...
'Cause I hardly think about it anymore
Oh, it's just a distant memory
And I hardly think about it anymore
What happened to the dream
And it only hurts when I breathe
-Breathe by: Rose and Billy Falcon
Hermione kept her eyes tightly shut. She did not want to wake up to a nightmare. She wanted to stay in her dreams. She wanted to still think she was in Ron's arms. How long had it been since she wasn't repulsed by the person holding her? Years it seemed. Who knew? Maybe it had been years.
She slipped out of bed and put on her ratty, torn up clothes. It wasn't good to dwell on dreams. If she had learned one thing in her time in the room at the bottom of a creaky staircase, it was that dreaming did not help matters. It only brought more pain. She knew that her friends had stopped looking for her long ago, whenever her torturer felt it necessary, he would reminder. She had been told time and time again that they no longer cared, that they had gotten on with their lives, but every time Hermione felt herself thinking it was true, she stopped herself. They still cared, but they just didn't think she was still alive. That had to be it. Still, she was bitter. When she still had hoped, she dreamt of Ron flying in and romantically rescuing her, bringing her away from her hell. She had given up though, turned her thoughts toward him sour, for believing that she could possibly be dead. Still, it was a nice dream...
They had been speeding down the country side on his broom. Though she was deathly afraid of flying, she would give anything to fly, if Ron was there with her. She had been at the front of his broom, his arms around her. He would whisper sweet, loving things in her ear. His hands were on hers and-
"Thinking about Weasley again are we?" The familiar, cold, cruel voice reminded her she was still in her nightmare.
"Ron, go home," Tonks stared down at the young auror with authority. "You do us no good, if you can barely keep your eyes open." Ron nodded. He hadn't slept in days. They had a clue where Malfoy was and that was all he could think about, when he remembered not to think about... her, at least.
He made his way home to his empty flat. He shared it with Harry, when he wasn't at the Ministry. Now, Harry was out somewhere, either working with Moody, or with Ron's younger sister, Ginny. He decided not to think about it.
Seeing them together made him sick. Not because he was her older brother and it was just wrong for his best friend to be dating her, but because they reminded him of... her. No, don't think about that, he reminded himself bitterly.
He flopped down onto his bed and tried to sleep. Her face filled every inch of his mind. He couldn't find peace; he didn't think he ever would...
Mafloy forced her onto the bed, taking her clothes off. He really didn't know why she bothered to dress anymore. It's not like she struggled. She hadn't struggled in years. He hated it when she thought about Weasley. She always got that expression on her face. Of course, for him, it wasn't about sex. He'd rather not be screwing a mudblood like herself; it was about power and the delight he got from her pain.
"Now, what have I said about those dreams?" he asked, letting his own robes fall off his body. She sobbed, but didn't respond. He didn't like that. He was her master, and she would respond when he asked her a question. He slapped her several times in the face. Thinking that got his point across, he asked again, "What have I said about those dreams?"
"Please," she whispered pitifully. Now, if it was one thing he could stand it was when people asked him for mercy. He threw her across the room. Her naked body skidded across the floor. He could hear her stupid sobbing. He went across and kicked her hard. She yelped in pain. He kicked her again and again and again. "Now, we're going to try this again. What have in said?" Gathering up her remaining strength, Hermione let the words slide pitifully out of her mouth, before fainting from the pain.