Pensieve

Hermione recalls her Life and Death to the special pensieve viewer.

"Well it's interesting you should ask and now that you are old enough I feel much more comfortable with talking to you about that... period of my life. But you do have to understand that I was a little older than you at this time, my emotions were high.. I was heartbroken in the worst way.. When Min had refused me something had snapped inside. I was like a person with out a stitch of humanity left in them. Nothing and no one will ever truly understand unless they have been truly heartbroken... what heartbroken feels like my dear. Believe me... now you may watch the memory of how I came into passing. I'll answer your questions later."

Herione's eyes were dried shut, eyelashes caked with the salt of dry tears. Hours upon hours of screaming, crying, yelling for mercy had left her throat dry and sore barely able to make a sound. She felt bruised inside and out like they had beaten her so harshly that no part of her would be unscarred. But above all she was peaceful. Peaceful lying on the cold stone floor so dirty she believed it would never be scrubbed clean. Not with spell nor manpower. Slick with blood, sweat and other bodily fluids yet she didn't flinch in disgust... she just lay on the coldness, adjusting every once in a few moments silently and relaxed.

Bones that were broken were healing, cuts and scrapes being invisibly sewn back up into perfect skin. Bruises remained. Two months of bruises since day number one. Not that the brunette would realize this since it felt much longer. For days she had passed out, only being kept alive by a few spells a week to fill her stomach with nourishment and yet she never touched food. Water would be splashed upon her to weigh down the stench of her body. They would insult her. And she heard them coming. The door swung open.

"Hello little scum," A deatheater had welcomed her, drawing nearer but she heard others. "Do you still wish.. little scum?" He took her by the rope of her tied arms and lifted her torso off the coldness then she felt the hurt again in tidal waves.

"Yes I still wish!" Hermione screamed from the top of her lungs, it come out restrained and deep.

"What do you wish for little scum!" The man yelled in her ear while dragging her body feet trailing behind to what she figured would be the center of the room filling with a small group of dark followers.

"Take my life! I give you my life! I wish you to kill me! Please kill me!" She yelled frantically, the feel of her joints being twisted and contorted almost broken again sending her into spasms of sobs and convulsions.

"Your life? What makes you think we want your disgusting mudblood life?" One deatheater, a different one said.. so close to her face she felt his breath.

"No I think it is time," The recognizable one had stated drearily. "She has been... entertaining."

"Let me keep her... she'll make a pretty pet..." The sick twisted voice of Bellatrix resounded in Hermione's head while she internally shook in fear. She wanted it to stop, the world to stop, she'd been begging for so long giving herself to them freely knowing they would end this pain. Not the bruises but the hole the dug deeper into the place where her heart had been. Those damned emerald eyes... she wanted them gone.

"When the Ministry comes looking to this place tomorrow... I want them to find the body of a girl witch who belonged to Harry Potter," The man replied dangerously calm. "I want to find that boy, that ginger boy, one by one Bella one by one."

"Fine. Kill the girl already."

She heard the shuffling of feet and the door closing but she sensed a presence in the room. It neared her, and she attempted to meet the face of her murderer feeling her eyes tear open. One look of gratitude is what the man in the mask recieved though remarkabley within the dark eyes she met she saw bright tears.

"I am so sorry Miss. Granger."

Then a sharp flash of green silenced her thoughts.