A/N: Sorry for not updating in ages!
It's my fault (The Sand Demon's Fire Demon)!
The usual, we only own Amethyst.
Enjoy!!
Hermione shook as she curled up into a ball on her dark cell's floor, she was hungry, cold, thirsty and weak.
They'd tortured her mercilessly.
She hated them.
She wanted to go home.
Her friends and the Order wouldn't be searching for her because Voldemort had sent that look alike in her place.
She was stuck here.
The cell door creaked open and Hermione warily lifted her head, her curly hair a tangled bush of mess on her head as she glared tiredly at the blonde guy who'd just walked in.
"Granger, food," Draco Malfoy muttered, throwing a tray of food at her.
She looked at him suspiciously, but she was starving, she gulped down the stale bread and water hurriedly, her frail body aching for more.
But she was so not going all Oliver Twist and asking, "please sir, may I have some more?"
She was Hermione Jean Granger and asked Death Eaters bugger all.
"Want more?" Malfoy asked, crouching beside her huddled form.
She glared and silent.
"Answer the question, Granger," he growled.
Silence and a turn of the head away from the blonde.
"Don't ignore me you filthy little Mudblood!" he shouted, grabbing her and yanking her round forcefully.
Hermione winced as he touched a nasty bruise on her arm and she wrenched her arm free.
"Leave me alone, Malfoy," she spat, rubbing her arm softly, "and no I don't want anymore, alright, so leave me to rot, okay?!"
Malfoy simply smirked and left, the cell door clanging shut behind him as Hermione curled back into a ball.
Tears running down her cheeks.
(In Amethyst/Hermione's POV)
I'm Hermione Granger.
These are my best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, we destroyed the Horcruxes together.
So why do I feel like I'm not meant to be here.
Like I'm not Hermione Granger.
I have memories of things that I don't remember doing.
If that makes any sense.
I shook my head slightly as I frowned and tried to concentrate on the book before me, it was so boring though, who wants to know about Hogwarts?
It's a school for christ's sake.
But it's my favourite book.
Yet I can't stand reading it.
Actually I can't stand reading at all.
But yet, I love reading apparently.
'Read,' a soft voice said in my head, 'read, Hermione, you love to read, you nearly read the entire Hogwarts library, remember? Read, just read, it'll make you feel good, I promise."
I shook my head again, my brown curls bouncing slightly as I did so, and focused on the book.
I tried I really did.
Then threw the book back onto the table in disgust and stormed out the library in Twelve Grimmauld Place, ignoring Harry and Ron's gapes as I searched for a sword.
I loved fighting with swords, the way it sounded when metal hit metal and the fast paced action.
But, why did I love it so much if I had no memories of sword fighting?
How is that possible?
Sorry if it's crap, if it is, tell us in a review!
Thanks
TSDFD
