Chapter 4

*Hermione's Point of View*

No rain. Why can I not hear the rain? I have only been in this area for a short time but if there is one thing I did learn is that it rains here, all the time; and for some reason I cannot hear the rain. That all too familiar pitter patter sound of rain drops hitting whatever surface is above; the howls of the ever moving wind, pushing in new waves of black clouds. There was nothing, nothing what so ever.

My heart rate was going a mile a minute; I could not figure out where I was. From what I could gather I wasn't in the safety of my little tent. It was the overwhelming terror of being back there. The thought of being back in those dark damp dungeons; it tour so viciously at my wounded heart that I could not even bring myself to even slightly open my eyes, the absolute dread of seeing where I truly was. This was a fear that could make your blood run cold, and I could feel the cold sweat starting to form. My breathing started to come in ragged as I became dizzy. My mind swirling as I started to explore all the dark truths of my situation. I couldn't stop myself from trembling, shaking with pure terror of being back there. The distant footsteps that could be heard down the long dark corridor. Feeling the roughness of the stone floor. That was your only reminder that you were alive. Then your heart would come to a complete stop as you heard the click of the iron door and footsteps enter your one and only home and your prison.

Then pain, pure physical and mental pain was what you were greeted with. You promise yourself not to scream, not to show your weakness; but there is only so much one can take. There is only so much torture one can handle. As the last threads of your humanity is stripped away you lay there as the once dry rough stone turns warm and wet with blood, how much more can I take? When will it be over?

As the cold sweat started to pour off me I knew what I had to do, I needed to figure out where I was and then escape. No matter how much pain I was in; or the amount of panic that was building inside of me. Bloody hell it doesn't even matter what might lie; I was not going to be prisoner to anyone ever again.

Bit by bit, my eyes fluttered open and I was surprised to be welcomed to not a dark, cold, damp room; but instead a cream colored room. Even more so, I was extremely glad that the room was dimmed and not completely black. It was instead lightly lit, so my eyes had time to adjust. As my heart slowed down to a somewhat normal passé, I became so confused. Where could I possibly be? The room resembled that of a hospital room. Did that mean I was in a hospital? Oh Merlin now if I was in a real hospital that will make my life so much more complicated. However after much consideration I came to the conclusion that this was not your ordinary hospital.

Gradually I took in my immediate surrounds. There was a little bed side table to my right with a vase filled with a wide variety of wild flowers; on my other side there looked to be a monitor like thing, blinking lights and all. As I followed the wires from the monitor I realized I was attached to it. I had an IV, heart monitors, everything. This was most definitely weird. It was then I finally I let myself take in the damage that was done to me, and as I scanned my body the events of the past fight started to slowly come back into focus. Arm in a sling; that seemed about right. Every breath I inhaled hurt, so most likely a few broken ribs; brilliant I wonder which tree I was smashed into the cause that kind of damaged? Over all not too bad, if only I could find my bag; I could only pray that no one took it. Yet I was so happy to be surprised to see my little bag hanging on the side of a chair that was nestled in the corner of the room, and even more so I could see my wand sticking out of it. Suddenly a wave of panic washed over me; does whoever took care of me know that I am a witch? However there wasn't much time to worry about that. Right now I needed to get my bag and get some medicine.

I was far too weak to use wand-less magic at the moment, so my only other choice was getting up and walking over to the other side of the room. Now why is it that when you are tired and sore does the smallest of distances look like it could be miles away? Seriously the bloody chair is only on the other side of the room, but to me, walking over to it seemed harder than swimming over the Atlantic Ocean back to England. Little by little I attempted to sit up, and with each breath I took a stab of pain ripped at my chest. By the time I was fully sitting up I was completely out of breathe and it felt my like chest was on fire. Never the less I pushed through the pain and slid my feet around so the tips of my toes where just touching the cold floor.

I tested the waters first; seeing how much weight I could put on my legs. After taking a moment to steady myself I started to make my way over to the other side of the room. It took me what felt like an eternity; but I managed to get my bag and made it back to my bed. Once I laid my head back down I was shocked to see that now my whole body seemed to be burning. After a few deep shaky breathes everything went back to normal and I quickly started too rummaged through my bag. It didn't take me long, but thanks the potions that Madame Pomfrey gave me long before the war started; I had healed all my broken bones, and closed up the more gruesome cuts and burns. Like Madame Pomfrey had once said the potions where no pumpkin juice, but it got the job done. As much as I hated to admit it I knew that the best thing I could do was lay low and rest. Then I will make my get away. But I had to admit that after my little trip across the room and all the instant healing my body endured, I was absolutely exhausted; and before I knew it my eyes slide closed and I drifted off into a well needed deep sleep.

To Be Continued…