Prisoner of the Past

A/N: This is my first real angst/tragedy fic. It's in Hermione's POV. Flashbacks are in italics. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or I would not be feverishly waiting for July 16!

"Ron," I sighed, exasperated. He looked up guiltily from where he was sitting on the common room floor.

"Sorry, 'Mione, but I really didn't get this transfiguration essay!" He pleaded. I rolled my eyes and sat in one of the armchairs near the fire. Ron smiled. "You're a real mate!" He then returned to 'comparing' my transfiguration essay to his piece of empty parchment.

I used to find these moments dull. Now they seem exciting, happy memories, yet filled with a numb pain. The streets outside the attic window of #12 Grimmauld Place are filled with marching deatheaters. I hate them. I truly hate them, more than I used to. I was so naïve. Believing that everyone had a bit of good in them. Now I know that isn't true.

This is one of my few opinions. I don't really have many anymore, even though it sounds hard to believe. I was so opinionated when I was young, and at Hogwarts. How could I not be? So many new ideas coming from a quickly changing world. Optimism was my motto. Now I can see that all the events in my life were sloping downhill. That's all I ever seem to think about. The events in my past life. I can't get over them, the only times I was ever truly happy. Those wonderful moments with Harry and Ron…

Ginny and I sat in the Quidditch stands, our breath held. Draco Malfoy was going in for the kill. Prat. He had a clear shot at our goal hoops, the only thing between him and them was Ron. Ron looked extremely nervous, and by the way his knuckles were white from holding his broomstick too tightly, I had a feeling that Malfoy was using his tactics of taunting his 'prey'. Harry was racing around the field, no doubt after the snitch. Of course Malfoy should have been chasing after it also, but if he scored this goal even the 150 points the snitch would win us would only tie the game. Plus he was always hoping to bring a chorus of 'Weasley is our King' out of the Slytherins.

Malfoy swerved, faked, and then threw at the same moment Harry plunged toward the ground below. Nobody moved a muscle. The quaffle appeared to be moving in slow motion as it soared towards the goal hoops. But Ron definitely wasn't. Ron, by the far left hoop, quaffle zooming towards the far right. As Draco watched with a smirk on his face Ron dropped down until he was hanging by one hand on his broom, stretched out his long leg, and swung. Just as the quaffle was about to score another 10 points for Slytherin, Ron's foot deflected it into Malfoy's face. A cry of pain escaped Draco's lips as the quaffle dropped and he brought his hands up to his face. A triumphant laugh came from the quidditch field below. The whole of the audience had been so captivated by Ron and Malfoy's showdown, we had forgotten about Harry! Snitch in hand he stood in the center of the field. At that moment the silence was shattered.

We screamed and all the Gryffindors fled the stands down to the field where our team was engulfing their star keeper and seeker. I burst through the crowd and raced right up to my two best friends, Ginny on my tail. She approached Harry and smiled prettily.

"Great job," she whispered.

"Thanks," he smiled, a blush rising in his cheeks, I noted with satisfaction. Turning my heads toward Ron I threw my arms around his neck.

"You did it, you did it!" Pulling back I stared into his shining face, a mixture of sweat and pride. "The extra practice lessons with Harry really paid off, Ron! Although maybe you could have fit in more time for homework into your schedule," I added with a frown.

"Come off it Hermione!" He gave me a lopsided grin

"Hermione? Hermione!" Ron's joyful voice melted into Tonks' tired one. She looked worse for wear.

"Yes Tonks?"

"Dinner time."

"Alright." I stood up dutifully, although without much enthusiasm. Following Tonks down the stairs I glanced around the cold house and shivered. Since Voldemort took over the wizarding world I had been confined to this prison of memories. Oh the memories: working on assignments for Hogwarts, Sirius, Kreacher, the Christmas when Mr. Weasley was bitten by a snake, Harry, and Ron. Oh Ron.

Tonks told me of a rebellion that the remaining members of the Order were planning. Lupin was to be the head wizard in this operation.

"I'm so worried," she sighed. Lupin was one of the only things that kept her from going over the edge. Between Dumbledore's death and becoming the 'leader' of the Order of the Pheonix, there wasn't much from keeping Tonks' stress from driving her insane. "If he died," I was snapped back to reality by her voice. "I don't know what I'd do." A tear began to leak down her cheek, and though she wiped it off almost as quickly as it began, I still caught it.

She really loves him, I realized with a pang.

Nearing the end of seventh year, and I'd never been kissed. Staring at the starry sky, I glanced furtively at Ron. He looked back for a second, then turned to stare at the sky, red rising in his ears. I wish he'd look at me again.

"Ron," I stated carefully.

"Hmm?" he questioned nonchalantly.

"Why are we here?" At his confused look, I motioned at the small garden we sat in. "Here."

"Oh, here. Well, I could use some fresh air, and…" He trailed off meekly.

"And?" I asked, hope rising up in me. The crush I had been nurturing for Ron may finally reach the boiling point tonight.

"Thought you might like some too." He ended dumbly.

"Oh." My face fell and I sighed. Suddenly he stood up.

"Mione?" I looked up sharply, excitement rising in me again like a hot air balloon although I tried to push it down. "There's something I've got to tell you." Now I stood up. I knew what was coming. It had been coming for a long time, and now it was going to happen. Sweet, clueless, funny Ron. All mine. I approached him.

"Yes?" He took my hands and pulled me closer.

"I-I," he whispered, lips coming closer and closer. Just as our lips were about to meet, Harry ran into the garden. We quickly broke apart.

"What is it mate?" Ron inquired worriedly. Harry looked half-dead and his eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and resolve.

"It's time."

"Earth to Hermione!" Tonks waved her hand in front of my face, a faint ghost of her old smile on her lips.

"Right," I shook my head distractedly. "Well, see you later." With that I returned to the attic, leaving a sighing Tonks in my wake. I knew I hadn't given her what she wanted. A nice, simple 'things will work out fine' would probably have meant the world to her. But I won't say that. Never again. Because when you say that bad things happen. Very bad things.

My breath came in short bursts. This was the most terrifying moment of my life. Ron stood a few meters away and Harry was in front of us. Facing him was the Dark Lord himself.

When Harry told us it was 'time' he meant time to risk it all. Time to decide the fate of the entire wizarding world. Would he triumph and make the world a better place? Or would Voldemort be victorious (meaning Harry's death) and send us into chaos? 'Things will work out fine' I kept telling myself over and over. I almost had myself convinced.

"So Potter," the chilling voice sent tingles up my spine and goosebumps popped up all over my body. "This is how it ends. The most powerful wizard of all time, standing over your dead body."

"Why would Dumbledore be standing over my dead body?" Harry asked through clenched teeth.

"Silence, boy!" the Dark Lord shrieked, sending a string of Cruciatus curses at Harry. They all hit their mark, and one of my best friends screamed in pain. "And his sidekicks?" Vodemort asked cruelly. "Crucio!" Ron and I fell to our knees. I felt pain like I'd never felt it before. I couldn't stand it. I would die here. Unfortunately that was not true. "This ends now! Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort spoke calmly and coolly.

Harry was done for. There was nothing to shield himself with.

"NOOOOO!" I saw a blinding flash of green light. One of my best friends lay dead on the floor. It was not Harry.

"Ron!" I cried and ran to my lifeless friend who had sacrificed himself to save the hope of the world. I gripped his cold hand as tears flowed from my eyes. Slowly, I bent over until I was looking straight into his eyes, which stared at nothing. I closed them, and then, bent my head until bushy hair covered dead face and sobbing girl. Our lips met. His cold, mine warm and wet with salty tears. My first, and only, kiss.

Then, I heard laughter. High-pitched, cold laughter that went through my whole body. Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out. In an act of adrenaline I raced towards the door as Harry screamed in rage.

"Avada Kedavra!" As I turned the corner a piece of wall flew at me. I had narrowly escaped the killing curse. But unlike my good fortune, I heard a scream cut short. Brought to a halt. Forever. The wizarding community died that day.

Tears streamed down my face, even now at the memory of what happened eight years ago. When I ran, the only one to survive of the golden trio. Now Voldemort wants me dead, so I reside in #12 Grimmauld Place, and I always will.

#12 Grimmauld Place, aka, Prison of the Past.