- Rating:
- R
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Genres:
- Romance Drama
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Stats:
-
Published: 02/17/2002Updated: 02/17/2002Words: 689Chapters: 1Hits: 1,962
Forsaken’s Miracle
Aurin
- Story Summary:
- What if you were cut off from everything you loved for nothing? What if you had something that could save the world and you didn’t want it? This is her story. What if you had no past, no future? What if you were always numb, and never had any hope? This is his story. When these two paths cross, the two embark on a story that might have only one ending, and the one who could kill you might be the only one who can set you free… (D/Hr)
Forsaken’s Miracle 00 - Prologue
- Chapter Summary:
- What if you were cut off from everything you loved for nothing? What if you had something that could save the world and you didn't want it? This is her story. What if you had no past, no future? What if you were always numb, and never had any hope? This is his story. When these two paths cross, the two embark on a story that might have only one ending, and the one who could kill you might be the only one who can set you free... (D/Hr)
- Posted:
- 02/17/2002
- Hits:
- 1,962
- Author's Note:
- Okay, the background storyline might be somewhat similar to
The city was terrifying: dark, faceless, obsidian black buildings reached
upwards seemingly forever into the low-flying clouds, towering over the smaller
structures below. Only few buildings had been spared when these dark giants
were built, left for the use of those who owned small, dying businesses and
were still too proud to fail.
A young woman sat on the thirtieth floor of one of the giant, frightening
structures, pressing her forehead against the cool window while tears streamed
down her cheeks.
"Is that what you wanted, Hermione?" a cold voice asked her, a voice all
too familiar. "I told you, never, ever, try to outsmart me." He finished his
sentence calmly, with a sarcastic smirk painted on his face.
Hermione turned her head slowly, and looked up at him in disgust. Jonathan
merely smiled at her before walking out of the room and closing the door behind
him. Hermione closed her eyes, turning back to the window. The cold feeling
of glass pressed against her bruised forehead kept the swelling at bay. "I
hate you," she whispered angrily. Her voice was ragged, like a shard of glass
piercing the silence and drawing blood. Hermione did hate him: her very own
husband. Jonathan was cold and cruel, one of the Powers. This isn't the
life I wanted, she thought to herself, her eyes wandering lazily around
the well-furnished apartment. I hate this! She felt herself scream
silently, her thoughts filled with anger and self-pity. Hermione closed her
eyes slowly, remembering.
...Her feet pounded heavily on the damp sidewalk, her footsteps
ricocheting off the walls of crumbled buildings.
If only they'd leave her alone—heavy hands grasped her from
the back. She writhed furiously, trying to get away.
"I really don't want to do this," a voice said from behind
her.
"Then don't," she said, turning around, her brown eyes pleading.
"Please, Ron. Don't."
He looked at her. "Hermione, think of what Harry would say—"
She shook her head, cutting him off. "No, this isn't about
Harry. This is about you."
"Hermione you're one of the Revered. Please, think of the people
you'd save—"
"At the sake of what? My freedom? What a fair trade, Ron,"
she said spitefully. "I thought we were friends."
"Hermione, you're one of the few Revered we've found. Please,
it'll all be over," Ron said, taking her arm. "Let's go."
"Where? To some testing lab where I can pump out babies like
some machine? Where I can be cut off from everything I love?" Hermione turned
around. "No, please. Let me go..."
"It's not like that," he told her, defending the Powers. "They
wouldn't do that to you, you have a choice. As for the baby thing, you're
one of the only people who can do that, after the Plague."
She looked at him closely. "Alright," she said softly after
a while, taking his hand.
Hermione forced her eyelids open savagely, shoving unwanted memories to the
back of her mind. Hot tears pricked her eyelids nonetheless. This was too
much. Hermione stood up abruptly, the action making her slightly dizzy, but
she didn't mind. She flung open the door and ran downstairs as fast as she
could, looking behind her for Watchmen. Hermione reached the front porch,
and stepped outside, the cold rain seeped through the thick wool of her cardigan
and the autumn gale picked up the folds of her skirt and whipped them around
her legs, but she hardly noticed. She ran blindly through the storm, now feeling
completely numb. So this was it. Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled
out a razor. It was small and rectangular, gleaming dully as it reflected
the light of the hidden sun. Hermione trembled slightly as she yanked up the
sopping sleeves of her cardigan. No more mistakes this time, she told
herself firmly as she caught a glimpse of the small, red scars that crisscrossed
the pale skin of her forearm. Hermione held the sliver of metal close to her
wrist and shut her eyes. It was going to be over. Finall—
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice said from behind her.