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The Silence
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
7,258
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
7,258
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the rights to Harry Potter and do not make money by using it here.
The Hand
Upon waking, she dug a splinter from her cheek, resting it alongside the others on the far end of her bed. She didn’t know why she kept them. They were mementos, she supposed. This was what she had done, this was who she had become, a body for splinters to ledge themselves in. At least she was of use to something. She hugged her gown around her and followed the other girls of her cabin to the mess tent, plate and goblet in hand.
The women’s attire consisted of nothing more than a burlap-type material in the shape of male’s nightgown. Hermione’s was ripped up at the bottom, having been far too long and trod on over the months of toil. It was said they would be issued a new one at the beginning of the next year. When that was, she had no idea.
Her last day in the real world had been one of spring, one of sun and barely budding blooms. The grass had run red that day.
Once in the mess tent, they would line up, receive their water, gruel, and bread. They ate where they found room (for there were no tables or chairs) and given a three minute countdown from the moment they stepped out of line. Those who were not out of the tent and working by the end of the three minutes spent the next twenty under the Cruciatus.
She dug more graves today. Women had died during the night, passed away much to the envy of those left behind.
________________________________________
She’d tried magic before. Once, when she was in the cell. When she still had hope. It had rebounded back to her, a simple Reducto!. It had burnt a hole in her stomach and they had laughed for a few seconds before repairing it. She wished some days they had just left it.
________________________________________
She didn’t go back for three nights. Three long nights in which she cowered in the corner of her bed, her muscles jerking against the blinding cold. It had all been just a dream, her demented mind creating its own fantasies in order to stay sane. Not as though it mattered. She’d left her sanity long ago.
Now she stood in the rain just outside the door to her barracks, the wind whipping her measly clothing and lank hair. It was the only way to clean herself now. She hadn’t had a proper shower since she’d arrived.
Her face turned towards the men’s camp, away from the rain. The mud squelched between her toes, flowing over the tops of her bare feet. She was immobile, not even the wind moved her. A Dementor flew between two cabins to her left and kept right on going, not even noticing her. She never flinched. They had no desire in her. She was only a shell. They fed on those with hope.
Her feet moved of their own accord, pulling her towards that flicker of light among all this dark.
He was there, standing at the gate, in her spot. His hands were between the metal wires like hers always were. His eyes never left her. Her feet dragged, wanting to stay away from this reality. She wanted to go back to the barracks, back to the nothingness. But the wind pushed her forward. She stopped a meter from where he stood, staring.
They didn’t speak, just looked on at one another. Her body shook against the cold. It would get worse before it got better. Not that the weather made much difference.
His eyes urged her forward, those dark, chocolate eyes. She didn’t move, just took in the actuality of this moment.
She shouldn’t be here.
Her feet moved her back, away. His grip tightened on the wire. He said nothing. A look crossed his face, then left, leaving the pain she knew they all felt.
She watched him as she walked backwards, watched as he grew smaller and smaller.
Her bed was no comfort.
__________________________________
He was there again. The rain had turned to sleet, bearing down on her, dripping down her face, pelting her shoulders and back as she walked towards him. She stopped once again, just out of reach. She watched as he fit his arm through the wire, reaching out for her. He was reaching out.
“Please,” he begged, his voice rough. Her eyes locked on that one piece of flesh, the five fingers protruding, extending towards her, trying to contact her. He leaned further into the fence, reaching for her. For her. She hesitated.
“Hermione, take my hand.”
She ran.
__________________________________
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back. She gripped the rough wooden post of her bunk as if that would keep her body from doing whatever it wanted. But it proved impossible.
Her feet moved of their own accord, pulling her towards that one place she stayed in her mind all day, the reason she’d gotten ten Stinging Hexes for accidently skinning her boomslang too thin.
The mist permeated the darkness, a result of the sleet. She didn’t see him at first, her heart skittering. But then he appeared, clutching the fence, looking in her direction. She saw him first and had the advantage of seeing his face before he could hide it. Worry lines etched his young skin. Then he saw her, those lines vanished. That hand came through the fence again, reaching, begging. She ran to the hand and clutched it with one of her own, looking up at the familiar face. It was both a pain and a comfort to see him.
He pulled her closer so that they stood mere inches away, the fence the only barrier.
“I can’t believe it’s you.”
She tried to pull away but he held fast.
“Don’t. Don’t run. Stay, just for a moment.”
Her heart was pounding; she had to get away from him. She shouldn’t be here.
His hand was warm somehow, something she hadn’t felt in a while. His other snaked out so that his body was leaning fully against the biting wire. He took her one hand in both of his.
“Everyone will be so happy to know you’re alive. They’ll-,”
She shook her head fiercely, fear, for the first time in months, pounded through her, leaving her breathless. She tried to pull away, she had to run, had to hide-
“Alright, alright, Hermione, calm down I won’t tell anyone-,”
But she wrenched away and turned, running as fast as she could grab purchase. The fear raced through her veins and she didn’t notice the black figure until it was too late.
“Hey you! Stupefy!”
They spell missed and she ran faster, weaving between the buildings, the mist obscuring her. Her heart pounded, not from the fear of being caught, but the fear of being known. She wasn’t known, no one knew her.
She didn’t exist.
_____________________________________
A/N: Think you know who that boy is? Mysteries will be revealed soon. Also, the chapters will be longer. :)
XOXO
RynStar15
yourcookiedoughbaby@yahoo.com
The women’s attire consisted of nothing more than a burlap-type material in the shape of male’s nightgown. Hermione’s was ripped up at the bottom, having been far too long and trod on over the months of toil. It was said they would be issued a new one at the beginning of the next year. When that was, she had no idea.
Her last day in the real world had been one of spring, one of sun and barely budding blooms. The grass had run red that day.
Once in the mess tent, they would line up, receive their water, gruel, and bread. They ate where they found room (for there were no tables or chairs) and given a three minute countdown from the moment they stepped out of line. Those who were not out of the tent and working by the end of the three minutes spent the next twenty under the Cruciatus.
She dug more graves today. Women had died during the night, passed away much to the envy of those left behind.
________________________________________
She’d tried magic before. Once, when she was in the cell. When she still had hope. It had rebounded back to her, a simple Reducto!. It had burnt a hole in her stomach and they had laughed for a few seconds before repairing it. She wished some days they had just left it.
________________________________________
She didn’t go back for three nights. Three long nights in which she cowered in the corner of her bed, her muscles jerking against the blinding cold. It had all been just a dream, her demented mind creating its own fantasies in order to stay sane. Not as though it mattered. She’d left her sanity long ago.
Now she stood in the rain just outside the door to her barracks, the wind whipping her measly clothing and lank hair. It was the only way to clean herself now. She hadn’t had a proper shower since she’d arrived.
Her face turned towards the men’s camp, away from the rain. The mud squelched between her toes, flowing over the tops of her bare feet. She was immobile, not even the wind moved her. A Dementor flew between two cabins to her left and kept right on going, not even noticing her. She never flinched. They had no desire in her. She was only a shell. They fed on those with hope.
Her feet moved of their own accord, pulling her towards that flicker of light among all this dark.
He was there, standing at the gate, in her spot. His hands were between the metal wires like hers always were. His eyes never left her. Her feet dragged, wanting to stay away from this reality. She wanted to go back to the barracks, back to the nothingness. But the wind pushed her forward. She stopped a meter from where he stood, staring.
They didn’t speak, just looked on at one another. Her body shook against the cold. It would get worse before it got better. Not that the weather made much difference.
His eyes urged her forward, those dark, chocolate eyes. She didn’t move, just took in the actuality of this moment.
She shouldn’t be here.
Her feet moved her back, away. His grip tightened on the wire. He said nothing. A look crossed his face, then left, leaving the pain she knew they all felt.
She watched him as she walked backwards, watched as he grew smaller and smaller.
Her bed was no comfort.
__________________________________
He was there again. The rain had turned to sleet, bearing down on her, dripping down her face, pelting her shoulders and back as she walked towards him. She stopped once again, just out of reach. She watched as he fit his arm through the wire, reaching out for her. He was reaching out.
“Please,” he begged, his voice rough. Her eyes locked on that one piece of flesh, the five fingers protruding, extending towards her, trying to contact her. He leaned further into the fence, reaching for her. For her. She hesitated.
“Hermione, take my hand.”
She ran.
__________________________________
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back. She gripped the rough wooden post of her bunk as if that would keep her body from doing whatever it wanted. But it proved impossible.
Her feet moved of their own accord, pulling her towards that one place she stayed in her mind all day, the reason she’d gotten ten Stinging Hexes for accidently skinning her boomslang too thin.
The mist permeated the darkness, a result of the sleet. She didn’t see him at first, her heart skittering. But then he appeared, clutching the fence, looking in her direction. She saw him first and had the advantage of seeing his face before he could hide it. Worry lines etched his young skin. Then he saw her, those lines vanished. That hand came through the fence again, reaching, begging. She ran to the hand and clutched it with one of her own, looking up at the familiar face. It was both a pain and a comfort to see him.
He pulled her closer so that they stood mere inches away, the fence the only barrier.
“I can’t believe it’s you.”
She tried to pull away but he held fast.
“Don’t. Don’t run. Stay, just for a moment.”
Her heart was pounding; she had to get away from him. She shouldn’t be here.
His hand was warm somehow, something she hadn’t felt in a while. His other snaked out so that his body was leaning fully against the biting wire. He took her one hand in both of his.
“Everyone will be so happy to know you’re alive. They’ll-,”
She shook her head fiercely, fear, for the first time in months, pounded through her, leaving her breathless. She tried to pull away, she had to run, had to hide-
“Alright, alright, Hermione, calm down I won’t tell anyone-,”
But she wrenched away and turned, running as fast as she could grab purchase. The fear raced through her veins and she didn’t notice the black figure until it was too late.
“Hey you! Stupefy!”
They spell missed and she ran faster, weaving between the buildings, the mist obscuring her. Her heart pounded, not from the fear of being caught, but the fear of being known. She wasn’t known, no one knew her.
She didn’t exist.
_____________________________________
A/N: Think you know who that boy is? Mysteries will be revealed soon. Also, the chapters will be longer. :)
XOXO
RynStar15
yourcookiedoughbaby@yahoo.com