Chapter 1
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“Hermione!” The scream echoed through all the chaos, the smashing glass and the multitude of curses that screeched through the uneven air smashed into glass and shelving only adding to the terror each person felt.
The voice was drowned out by the time it met its intended by a sea of prophecy’s that came crashing down around them, the small body of one third of the trio laid under a layer of glass. With flimsy shield spells being the only reason she wasn’t yet mixing with the fluorescent liquid that covered her body.
The barbed wire like rope that wrapped around her leg and thigh dug deeper into her flesh the more she moved. “Hermione!” Harry’s voice was further away, the panic made his voice sound as if he were only a first year. Hermione looked toward where the sound came from, seeing the body’s standing in front of the brightly lit door throwing spells gave her hope.
On two arms, the young witch attempted to pull herself up. The rope tightened, she could feel the barbs rip into her flesh, she held back a scream. Laying back flat on the floor Hermione tried to be as still as possible. She tried to pull herself, digging her fingers into the uneven stone and pull herself. That worked for about two minutes, until a stray glass globe, thrown by the people that ruined their rescue mission, smashed into vulnerable flesh. She watched as all the body’s, darkened the the shadows of the light, stood. Pleading with chaos for hope to prevail. But with a tug from a slightly taller form, Harry ran.
The thick glass of the sphere embedding itself into bone and tissue, a guttural scream ripped from Hermione’s core. Grasping for anything, a fist full of glass cut through fingers and arms as she flailed trying to escape the pain.
The muggle term for what Hermione then experience was shock, she didn’t know what refined witches and wizards would call it. Perhaps they would think it was just a muggle thing, they would dismiss it as a primitive response to pain. But Hermione froze, unlike she had ever before. Her body unresponsive to anything, no command she gave was followed through.
She watched as the liquid that she laid in began to glow, fluorescent blue swirled with the dark red that flowed from most of her limbs. Blue and red made a deep, glowing purple as the colours mixed. The glowing colour slowly made its way to her wounds, gashes inches thick and deep began to glow. The blue began to seep into her skin, lighting up her veins in a spectacular mix of colour and light.
“Well well well. What do we have here.” A dark body stood above her own, Hermione’s stomach fell further threw the floor, “A little. Baby. Mudblood” the figure kicked the body on the floor, not in a sign of aggression, more out of curiosity.
The glass that surrounded hermione was flicked away with a swish of a crooked wand. A pair of heeled boots came into Hermione’s vision, then a set of hands set down on the stone with lace that wrapped around her fingers and long, black and sharp nails that seemed to be inconvenient at the best of times scratched the stone. Deep black curls soon touched the floor, a black that seemed to absorb all colour, light and attention.
Then, without warning nor caution, a pale hand rose from the ground and ran over the many abrasions and glass shards that marred Hermione’s cheek. It didn’t feel full of cruel intention, the nails gently ran across tan skin with apprehension. A face of pure beauty and horror laid next to Hermione, taking up all her view she watched as the woman grabbed her hand and interlocked her fingers with her own and raised the bleeding hand to her lips, pressing them to the wounds. Shock still engulfed her body, though if she were granted permission she didn’t know if she would willingly move.
“Little, beautiful, Mudblood.” Those simple words through all kinds of thoughts through Hermione’s head. She knew who this woman was, her reputation for her pure hatred of Muggleborns. Why was she here, she knew why. To torture her, to get her to tell her all about Harry Potter.
A wicked smile appeared on her face, sharp almost fang like teeth brimmed her dark lips, “don’t think of such useless things pet.” The softness almost scared hermione, such gentleness from who is know as a very erratic and violent person gave her a sick feeling. Perhaps it was the smile or the eyes that roamed every detail of her face. But something made her want to run or melt into the stone.
Violent red stained the lips of the witch that laid next to her, an almost dazed look fell over her as the edges of Hermione's sight began to darken, "pet, what have they done to you" a hand returned to her cheek, soft hands smeared blood and picked out glass shards. "It's okay, we fix you, and return you to your rightful home"
The witch quickly stood, with loud commands Hermione was quickly surrounded by a dozen or so death eaters. Her heart raced as fast as it could, with little blood left in her, her sight began to blur. She could feel the magic grab ahold of her, the pressure in her thigh was removed but not the pain.
She was lifted out of the glass, the liquid that covered her dripped in the oddly quiet space. The hand returned, holding her own gently. She felt a wand press against her chest, and soon a calm darkness followed.