I probably should have included this in my first chapter but anyway, just in case any of you readers somehow think I'm J.K. Rowling...(though I think it's more possible that I'm married to Johnny Depp...)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story. *sobs*

Hermione

"The King of England has arrived, My lady," one of my maids tell me as I am at my desk and I scramble to cover what I am writing.

"Perhaps we should go and meet him," she continues, seeing that I am making no intention of getting up from my seat.

I shake my head and wait for her to step away from me and leave my rooms, no doubt gone to tell the rest of the household what a rude woman I am, refusing to welcome the king along with the rest of his subjects.

Picking up my pen again, I continue the letter I am working on. "Draco," I write, "My captor is now back in his house, my prison. What should I do, how should I behave towards him? I do not know what I should expect...oh Draco, though I might not show it, fear is gripping my heart and tightening it's hold on my chest this very moment."

Slowly, I let my worries seep out of me onto the paper on the desk, and just as I am slotting the paper back under the bundle of cloth, my ears sharpen as I pick up hasty, heavy footsteps sounding from the corridor outside my rooms, growing louder and louder as it approaches my door.

I jump up and smoothen my hair, just in time to whirl around and face the King of England striding into my rooms, a satisfied smirk playing upon his lips.

"Well well, how is my dear friend Lady Hermione doing?" Harry asks, his tone heavy with sarcasm as he drops himself onto the nearest chair and gazes at me standing upright and stony.

He leans towards me, "Manners, Lady Hermione, manners, surely you know how to behave towards a king?" Clearly the traitor is enjoying himself, not having to bow to my every wish and even being able to command me, the rightful queen.

The seconds tick painfully by and the tension in the room is palpable as the King piereces me with those emerald-green eyes of his.

And slowly, I have no choice but to grit my teeth and sink into a curtsey, hating myself for acknowledging the usurper as king.

So this is how it feels, I think to myself, this is how it feels to be humbled and forced to show obeisance to your enemy. And fleetingly, I remember the brief look of resentment that was on Draco's face as he bowed to me the first time we met as rivals.

We have tasted the bitterness of defeat and Fortune's Wheel has brought us down to the dust. We are no longer rivals, but equals in the face of defeat.

The satisfied smile widens on the turncoat's face and he gestures to me to sit with a superior motion of his hand.

"I trust life here has been...satisfactory?" Harry asks, snickering to himself.

I cannot believe it, I do not recognise the man in front of me at all. A spasm of pain passes through my heart and I fight hard to keep it off my face. Is this really him, once my dearest childhood friend? I only see a monster in front of me.

"I am a captive here in your castle." I steady myself and continue, "You sly usurper led me here, tricked me to walk into your prison and took what is rightfully mine, and now you dare to talk to me."

The king flicks me a lazy smile and holds up a hand to stem my furious tirade against him.

"Not so fast, Lady Hermione. I only did what I thought best for my country. Clearly, the Slytherin duke was playing with your heart and manipulating you, causing danger for the House of Gryffindor." Harry twists a ring on his finger before continuing.

"For instance, what if you had made the duke King consort? But nevermind all that now. The Slytherin duke and his wife are locked in the Tower of London, and I will make sure they will never walk free again." he finishes off, observing my reaction closely.

"How could you," I spit, eyes flashing. "Even after the uprising you still do not want unity in England. You want us to be divided, to be weakened against foreign powers."

The king sits up straight and observes me closely. "So, it is true, you do love him," he says softly, challenging me, expecting me to deny it.

But I cannot. My dry tongue and lips cannot form the words, the lie that I am supposed to utter. How can I say that I do not love Draco when even right now, every part of me yearns for him and craves for his touch?

"Rest assured that you will never see him again, Lady Hermione," Harry stands up with a queer look of triumph on his face.

"Why do you do this to me?" I choke out. "You were my most trusted friend, my most valued advisor."

"Power changed me, Hermione. Being King was too good an offer to resist." he whispers quietly, almost to himself. "And I will never allow anyone to threaten my throne, including you, especially you."

Harry raises his voice. "I cannot allow you to live in these rooms anymore. The cost to keep you and your maids is simply too high. I am afraid that I will have to move you to somewhere more...convenient."

Before I can react, the betrayer snaps his finger and calls out in a voice devoid of any regret, "Guards! Arrest this woman! She is guilty of conspiring with a member of the House of Slytherin when she was queen, with no regard for the house she was leading."

Two guards grab hold of me and in the ensuing struggle, the French hood on my head comes loose. I am bizarrely reminded of the night I danced with Draco and the same thing occurred.

"You are queen Hermione, never surrender your pride!" Draco's voice rings out as resonant and clear as it did that night I left my court.

Yes, I tell myself. I am a queen, a queen without her crown and her throne, but still a queen.

Taking a deep breath, I stop struggling and address the guards gripping onto me with all the dignity I can muster, "Let go of me, have you forgotten that a queen's body is sacred?"

My words do the trick and the guards exchange a glance and meekly let go of me.

Harry observes the spectacle without a word and after a long pause, says in a steely voice, "Bring the prisoner to the dungeons, and let me warn you, if she escapes, I will personally ensure that both of you take her place in prison."

And with that threat hanging in the air, he sweeps out of my rooms, not bothering to throw another glance at me.

"I will take my throne back, one day I will," I say with certainty, though I do not believe my own words.

"One day I will be queen again and Draco will be my king, and you, Harry, will regret everything you have said and done to both of us," I raise my voice to make sure the pretend-king hears every word I say.

I walk out of my rooms and though I am sandwiched between two guards, my head is head held high, like the queen I was born to be.

It does not occur to me to turn back, and it is only much later that I hear from one of my maids that when I left the room, all the maids present curtsied deeply to my departing back, as they would to a reigning queen.

One week later

Hermione

I go to bed as usual in my lonely cell in my narrow bed, which is, if possible, even colder than my previous one.

"Goodnight, my lady" whispers the solitary maid attending to me as she blows out the candles and settles down onto the thin mattress on the floor besides me.

I close my eyes but I do not expect to enjoy the luxury of sleep.

But before I know it, I am in the midst of a dream so real that I believe that it is no longer just a dream, but a foreshadowing of some sort, or an omen.

I am standing with a crowd of people who all seem to be gathered for an occasion, a joyous celebration of some sort. But no, I look closer and realise that the crowd has parted and created some sort of pathway between them.

Cheers of "Long live the queen!" and "Long live the king!" ring in the air and a young boy near me scatters flower petals onto the cobblestones. It is with a jolt that I realise that I am part of a crowd gathered to line the streets for the coronation of a king and queen.

The clatter of horses' hooves on the ground grows louder and louder and I crane my neck along with the rest of the people gathered, trying to catch a glimpse of the royal couple.

Who can they be? Even in my dream, I am burning with curiosity to know.

The procession gets nearer and I catch sight of the queen, regal and graceful on her mount. Her bushy brown hair is familiar and the way she waves her hand even more so. The queen's head turns to my direction and I stifle a little gasp as I see her face.

It is me, the queen is me.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" The countrywoman cradling her baby in her arms asks me with a smile, misinterpreting my gasp.

"I am her, she is me, I am the queen!" I babble, unable to control my shock and delight.

The countrywoman's brows furrows. "Perhaps you are overwhelmed by the day's events sweetheart, I don't think you're Queen Bellatrix."

"Queen Bellatrix?" I whip around and take another look at the queen.

Yes, it is Bellatrix, there is no mistaking her wild tangle of black curls and her deathly pale skin.

"But...but it was me...I am sure you saw her, she looked exactly like me," I stutter. I can swear to God the queen was me, but why has the queen changed to Bellatrix?

"Ah, we all wish we were the queen, don't we?" The woman smiles understandingly at me. But no, she does not understand, I do not simply wish I were the queen, I am the queen.

I turn away from the crowd and stumble away.

The scene around me seems to be fading away and all of a sudden, a shudder runs through me as I realise that the previous scene I was part of has now disappeared and a much more somber mood is in the air.

It is an execution scene I am part of. There is a stage set up in the front of this crowd and the dreaded executioner's block is on it. Around me, some women have fell to their knees and are looking up to the heavens, mumbling prayers through the tears coursing down their faces.

There are boos in the crowd as I see a woman led out. Even so far from the stage, I can sense her fear and helplessness.

But I feel a tiny jolt of triumph within me as I recognise the woman's wild, black hair and sharply defined cheekbones. So Bellatrix will be executed, I think to myself.

Then I blink, and to my horror, the black hair has vanished along with the formidable figure. And in it's place is me.

The stricken horror is written all over my features and I see the white cloth being tied over my eyes. Then I see myself kneeling in the straw, hands groping blindly for the block.

Terror fills me, the excitement that I had felt when I saw myself as queen has long since evaporated.

I feel the bitter taste of bile rising in my throat and I lower my head, unable to continue watching.

"My lady, my lady!" my eyes fly open and I somewhat relax as I take in my dark surroundings in my cell. "You were screaming in your sleep, and you were thrashing about wildly, my lady. Would you like me to call for a physician?" My maid asks anxiously.

"No, no, I am perfectly fine, just a passing nightmare," I try my best to reassure her, wiping the sweat off my brow.

It does not take much to reassure my maid, and in minutes, I can hear her snores once again.

What does it mean? I think to myself in the darkness, all thoughts of sleep driven from my mind. The dream is too real, too vivid, for me to simply pass it off as nothing but a dream. It is a foreshadowing of some sort, I can feel it in my bones.

Hope you all readers enjoyed this chapter! And yes, it is slightly longer than usual. Do keep the reviews coming in, I keep writing because of them, honest :)