I apologize for any typos. I absolutely hate to proofread my work as what
sounds brilliant in my head turns to mush on the page. My first Harry
Potter fic. Flame away.
Rating will probably go up. Dark subject matter.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Blah, blah, blah.
.......................................................................................................
Hermione opened her eyes slowly. Her head throbbed in tempo with her heart beat, a slow waltz at her temples. Darkness greeted her, and she blinked several times in succession before accepting that she was not only staring at the inside of her eyelids.
She had been laying on her right side, and she was increasingly aware of a growing pain in her shoulder. She rolled slowly onto her left side. The feel of dust and the occasional pebble grating against her skin brought her to the startling realization that she was naked. She refused to think about why, or in fact who had undressed her. The freezing cold of the bare concrete sent shivers through her newly sensitized body, the numbness instantly fading.
Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, so it was quite an effort to bring herself up to a kneeling position. The sudden effort caused the pounding of her head to accelerate, the slow waltz becoming a rumba. Colors swirled before her eyes in the darkness like the spinning skirts of silken gowns, completing the illusion of a grand ball.
She pulled her knees out from under her. She leaned back, wiggling her bonds beneath her bottom. It wasn't long before her arms jerked, as rope entered the open space created by her bent knees. She laid back all of the way now, and brought her knees to her chest. Finally her arms looped over her toes, and her hands were clasped before her chest.
She moved her hands along the rough fibers of the rope, searching for the knot. Forward and back they traced to no avail. It was a magic rope that fitted her wrists together. She would not be able to release them without the counter spell.
She could not remember how she had gotten here. The last thing that she could recall was sitting before the fire in the common room of the Griffindor dorms. Her appointment to Head Girl had provided her private rooms to complete her studies, but this locale increased her opportunity of running into Ron or Harry.
She had a Runes exam to prepare for, but Crookshanks had decided to assist by sprawling his long body across the text. So instead of reading she had sat, lazily scratching the ginger cat behind his ears. This action had been greeted by a gentle purring, accentuated by the merry crackling of the fire.
She remembered that her toes were beginning to become uncomfortably hot from the heat, and she had pulled the under the chair, and away from the flames. A cup of tea sat on the table beside her, just the way that she liked it, a splash of milk, no sugar. She remembered how heavy her eyes had seemed, and then... She couldn't remember anything after that.
She closed her eyes tightly in an attempt to focus her thoughts, but the effort only reminded her of the throbbing of her head, and she bent over quickly, folding her body into two as she felt her stomach lurch. She laid her head against the concrete and was thankful for the comfort that the chill brought. Willing back the rising bile in her throat, she felt he stomach slowly settle. The lurching motion replaced by a slow rolling sensation as it cramped up tightly like a balled fist.
Time passed differently in this strange place. Without the aid of light to guide her, Hermione was unsure if she lay there for minutes, hours or days. Her mind began to race as she tried to calculate time elapsed. Surely she could not have been here that long. How long had she been passed out? Not more than a few hours. No. Of course not. Definitely not an entire day. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.
Occasionally she would count aloud, softly, to herself. One...two...three. Counting to sixty became a calming ritual. In the darkness, she was able to remind herself that only a minute had gone by. Nine...ten...eleven. The sound of a voice, even her own voice, made the darkness less oppressive, less unbearable. Fifteen...sixteen...seventeen. Of course the realization that only a single minute had passed would send new waves of terror through her. How long until someone noticed that she was gone? How long until someone began searching for her. Twenty-five...twenty- six...twenty-seven. Surely Ron, or Harry would be missing her. She didn't know why it was more important to her that Ron notice. She didn't want to think about that now. Thirty-three...thirty-four...thirty-five....She needed to be calm, rational. She almost laughed out loud. If only Dumbledore could see her now. What would he think of her ability to use cool, calm intellect in the face of danger? Forty-one...forty-two...forty-three. She forced herself breathe slowly, and calm her racing heart. Forty-six....forty- seven...forty-eight. Someone was coming. Someone would find her. She would not be trapped here forever. Fifty-one...fifty-two...fifty-three. They were on there way. They were almost here. But still, it had only been one minute.
She closed her eyes, and contemplated sleeping. Time always moved faster when she slept, but did she want time to go faster. What if she woke up and she lost a day, or two or, what if she never woke up.
In the darkness all of her fears were given flesh. She was six years old again and this time there really was a monster under the bed.
Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes, and blinked fiercely to keep them from falling. Crying would not help anything. She needed to think about this calmly. She could not wait for the cavalry. She would get herself out of this on her own.
Unfortunately, the pressure of her bladder made clear thinking nearly impossible. Her prison was not large, four by four paces. She did not dare relieve herself in the corner, but she did not dare call out to her captors.
Time passed and the need increased. She crossed her legs tightly and bit her lower lip. Her bladder swelled until it felt that it would burst. She could wait no longer. She licked her lips, trying to force moisture back into her suddenly parched mouth. She refused to acknowledge her nakedness.
"Hello?" She cried out meekly. She shook her head. "Hello?" She called out again, this time her voice sounded more forceful. Calm even. Much better she thought to herself. "Is anyone there?" Silence met her called, and Hermione forced herself to try again. "Please? If you're out there, please answer me?"
The door swung open, not quickly, nor slowly either. Hermione blinked back against the sudden light, her eyes screaming from the shock. A large figure was silhouetted in the frame, and try as she might she could make out no face.
"What?" The voice was harsh, and gruff.
"Where am I? Why am I here?" She was proud of herself. Her voice hardly shook at all.
"You bothered me for that?" The door began to close again, and she felt her heart leap up into her throat.
"Please? Wait?" The door hesitated in its path. "Please." She said again, her voice beginning to tremble. "I need to use the facilities." Even though she could not see the man's face, Hermione lowered her gaze, refusing to meet her captor's eyes. It took her a minute to realize that the door was again closing. "No!" She screamed. "Please, no!" The click of the door's latch slipping into place was the only response to her cries.
She sat there in silence, staring at the closed door. The darkness seemed even thicker when compared to the brilliant white of the light. She was no longer able to hold the threatening tears at bay. Her shoulders shook, and a small mewing sound crossed her lips.
The door suddenly swung inward, light spilling into her world. "Here." The gruff voice called. She saw his arm swing and heard the clattering of metal on the hard floor. Before she could speak, the door was again closing, and Hermione heard the latch once again click into place.
She moved quickly, and her hands soon closed around the smooth handle of the metal pale. She moved to the far back corner, hovering over the large bucket, and thankfully relieved herself.
Several minutes had passed before Hermione flushed bright red in the darkness. She had been truly thankful for the bucket. Not angry, or resentful. She had been treated like an animal, and it hadn't bothered her.
............................................................................................................
Harry and Ron sat at the large Griffindor table in the main hall. Their plates were piled high with an assortment of breakfast food. A small trail of steam rose from the eggs, and the smell of bacon filled Ron's nostrils. He broke the yolk of his sunny-side-up eggs, soaking up the yellow liquid with the corner of his toast.
"It's not like Hermione to miss breakfast." Ron mumbled around a mouthful of food.
Harry chewed thoughtfully on his own breakfast, only answering once he had swallowed the large bite. "She had some big exam today. She's probably still at the library."
Ron nodded grudgingly. "Yeah. You're probably right. Hermione won't be happy unless she gets the highest grade. I just hope that she isn't late for Care of Magical Creatures."
"Nawh." Harry replied. "She wouldn't miss Hagrid's class, and you know how she feels about being late."
Ron again nodded grudgingly. He knew that everything Harry said was the truth, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of unease growing in the pit of his stomach.
Rating will probably go up. Dark subject matter.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Blah, blah, blah.
.......................................................................................................
Hermione opened her eyes slowly. Her head throbbed in tempo with her heart beat, a slow waltz at her temples. Darkness greeted her, and she blinked several times in succession before accepting that she was not only staring at the inside of her eyelids.
She had been laying on her right side, and she was increasingly aware of a growing pain in her shoulder. She rolled slowly onto her left side. The feel of dust and the occasional pebble grating against her skin brought her to the startling realization that she was naked. She refused to think about why, or in fact who had undressed her. The freezing cold of the bare concrete sent shivers through her newly sensitized body, the numbness instantly fading.
Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, so it was quite an effort to bring herself up to a kneeling position. The sudden effort caused the pounding of her head to accelerate, the slow waltz becoming a rumba. Colors swirled before her eyes in the darkness like the spinning skirts of silken gowns, completing the illusion of a grand ball.
She pulled her knees out from under her. She leaned back, wiggling her bonds beneath her bottom. It wasn't long before her arms jerked, as rope entered the open space created by her bent knees. She laid back all of the way now, and brought her knees to her chest. Finally her arms looped over her toes, and her hands were clasped before her chest.
She moved her hands along the rough fibers of the rope, searching for the knot. Forward and back they traced to no avail. It was a magic rope that fitted her wrists together. She would not be able to release them without the counter spell.
She could not remember how she had gotten here. The last thing that she could recall was sitting before the fire in the common room of the Griffindor dorms. Her appointment to Head Girl had provided her private rooms to complete her studies, but this locale increased her opportunity of running into Ron or Harry.
She had a Runes exam to prepare for, but Crookshanks had decided to assist by sprawling his long body across the text. So instead of reading she had sat, lazily scratching the ginger cat behind his ears. This action had been greeted by a gentle purring, accentuated by the merry crackling of the fire.
She remembered that her toes were beginning to become uncomfortably hot from the heat, and she had pulled the under the chair, and away from the flames. A cup of tea sat on the table beside her, just the way that she liked it, a splash of milk, no sugar. She remembered how heavy her eyes had seemed, and then... She couldn't remember anything after that.
She closed her eyes tightly in an attempt to focus her thoughts, but the effort only reminded her of the throbbing of her head, and she bent over quickly, folding her body into two as she felt her stomach lurch. She laid her head against the concrete and was thankful for the comfort that the chill brought. Willing back the rising bile in her throat, she felt he stomach slowly settle. The lurching motion replaced by a slow rolling sensation as it cramped up tightly like a balled fist.
Time passed differently in this strange place. Without the aid of light to guide her, Hermione was unsure if she lay there for minutes, hours or days. Her mind began to race as she tried to calculate time elapsed. Surely she could not have been here that long. How long had she been passed out? Not more than a few hours. No. Of course not. Definitely not an entire day. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.
Occasionally she would count aloud, softly, to herself. One...two...three. Counting to sixty became a calming ritual. In the darkness, she was able to remind herself that only a minute had gone by. Nine...ten...eleven. The sound of a voice, even her own voice, made the darkness less oppressive, less unbearable. Fifteen...sixteen...seventeen. Of course the realization that only a single minute had passed would send new waves of terror through her. How long until someone noticed that she was gone? How long until someone began searching for her. Twenty-five...twenty- six...twenty-seven. Surely Ron, or Harry would be missing her. She didn't know why it was more important to her that Ron notice. She didn't want to think about that now. Thirty-three...thirty-four...thirty-five....She needed to be calm, rational. She almost laughed out loud. If only Dumbledore could see her now. What would he think of her ability to use cool, calm intellect in the face of danger? Forty-one...forty-two...forty-three. She forced herself breathe slowly, and calm her racing heart. Forty-six....forty- seven...forty-eight. Someone was coming. Someone would find her. She would not be trapped here forever. Fifty-one...fifty-two...fifty-three. They were on there way. They were almost here. But still, it had only been one minute.
She closed her eyes, and contemplated sleeping. Time always moved faster when she slept, but did she want time to go faster. What if she woke up and she lost a day, or two or, what if she never woke up.
In the darkness all of her fears were given flesh. She was six years old again and this time there really was a monster under the bed.
Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes, and blinked fiercely to keep them from falling. Crying would not help anything. She needed to think about this calmly. She could not wait for the cavalry. She would get herself out of this on her own.
Unfortunately, the pressure of her bladder made clear thinking nearly impossible. Her prison was not large, four by four paces. She did not dare relieve herself in the corner, but she did not dare call out to her captors.
Time passed and the need increased. She crossed her legs tightly and bit her lower lip. Her bladder swelled until it felt that it would burst. She could wait no longer. She licked her lips, trying to force moisture back into her suddenly parched mouth. She refused to acknowledge her nakedness.
"Hello?" She cried out meekly. She shook her head. "Hello?" She called out again, this time her voice sounded more forceful. Calm even. Much better she thought to herself. "Is anyone there?" Silence met her called, and Hermione forced herself to try again. "Please? If you're out there, please answer me?"
The door swung open, not quickly, nor slowly either. Hermione blinked back against the sudden light, her eyes screaming from the shock. A large figure was silhouetted in the frame, and try as she might she could make out no face.
"What?" The voice was harsh, and gruff.
"Where am I? Why am I here?" She was proud of herself. Her voice hardly shook at all.
"You bothered me for that?" The door began to close again, and she felt her heart leap up into her throat.
"Please? Wait?" The door hesitated in its path. "Please." She said again, her voice beginning to tremble. "I need to use the facilities." Even though she could not see the man's face, Hermione lowered her gaze, refusing to meet her captor's eyes. It took her a minute to realize that the door was again closing. "No!" She screamed. "Please, no!" The click of the door's latch slipping into place was the only response to her cries.
She sat there in silence, staring at the closed door. The darkness seemed even thicker when compared to the brilliant white of the light. She was no longer able to hold the threatening tears at bay. Her shoulders shook, and a small mewing sound crossed her lips.
The door suddenly swung inward, light spilling into her world. "Here." The gruff voice called. She saw his arm swing and heard the clattering of metal on the hard floor. Before she could speak, the door was again closing, and Hermione heard the latch once again click into place.
She moved quickly, and her hands soon closed around the smooth handle of the metal pale. She moved to the far back corner, hovering over the large bucket, and thankfully relieved herself.
Several minutes had passed before Hermione flushed bright red in the darkness. She had been truly thankful for the bucket. Not angry, or resentful. She had been treated like an animal, and it hadn't bothered her.
............................................................................................................
Harry and Ron sat at the large Griffindor table in the main hall. Their plates were piled high with an assortment of breakfast food. A small trail of steam rose from the eggs, and the smell of bacon filled Ron's nostrils. He broke the yolk of his sunny-side-up eggs, soaking up the yellow liquid with the corner of his toast.
"It's not like Hermione to miss breakfast." Ron mumbled around a mouthful of food.
Harry chewed thoughtfully on his own breakfast, only answering once he had swallowed the large bite. "She had some big exam today. She's probably still at the library."
Ron nodded grudgingly. "Yeah. You're probably right. Hermione won't be happy unless she gets the highest grade. I just hope that she isn't late for Care of Magical Creatures."
"Nawh." Harry replied. "She wouldn't miss Hagrid's class, and you know how she feels about being late."
Ron again nodded grudgingly. He knew that everything Harry said was the truth, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of unease growing in the pit of his stomach.