Falling Out Of Reach

FALLING OUT OF REACH (prologue/?)

Faster. She had to run faster. It was behind her, closing in. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but malice radiated from it. Whatever it was that was hunting her, it was evil.

Faster. She had to run faster. Trees couldn't fly past her quick enough. Hermione wasn't really a runner, or an athlete at that, but she had no choice in the matter now. If she didn't run, she would die.

Faster. She had to run faster. Where was she? The Forbidden Forest? - Most likely. She could feel a stitch start to ache in her side, but ruthlessly she pushed herself faster. What was chasing her, and why? Looking over her shoulder, she saw nothing, yet she could still feel its threatening presence pressing into her, looming ever closer behind her.

Faster. She had to run faster. It wasn't there, yet it was. It was everywhere and nowhere at once, but how could that be? It was moving in for the kill now, there was no escape...

Her fastest wasn't fast enough.

As she seemed to fall endlessly forward, Hermione's eye caught the night sky. An alien thought, not truly her own but hers nonetheless, came to her, 'Jupiter is awful bright tonight,' before the blackness engulfed her and whatever it was that had been chasing her sunk its claws into her heart.

~*~*~

Hermione awoke with the start of feeling as though she were falling forward even though she was lying down. Sweat slicked her forehead and her breathing was coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

A dream, no, a nightmare, but of what? She could not seem to remember any of it. Furrowing her brow in concentration, the nightmare evaded her memory. Only one thing echoed in her head much like her own voice ricocheting off the walls of an empty hallway:

'Jupiter is awful bright tonight,'

A frown creased her forehead. What was that supposed to mean? It sounded vaguely familiar, as if from a dream or from her past.

Shaking her head to clear it of her jumbled thoughts, Hermione reached for her watch on her night stand by her four poster bed. It was only one thirty in the morning. Groping for the tall glass of water she always kept by her bedside, Hermione drank it down in greedy gulps. The water, magicked to stay ice cold throughout the night, seemed to have a soothing affect on her confused mind.

Her side cramped as she drank down the water, almost as if she had been running. A new emotion crossed her face. Had she been running? She shook her head in a negative gesture. No, that wasn't possible.

Settling back down into the folds of her blankets, Hermione sighed while closing her eyes, the mysterious thought, 'Jupiter is awful bright tonight,' replaying itself in her head one last time before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Not once did Hermione notice the shadowed figure looming at the foot of her bed on the other side of her bed curtains.

*~*~*

She was asleep again. Tentatively, the dark figure made his way past the bed curtains to hover over Hermione's sleeping form. A frown creased his brow. She was really quite lovely when she slept; she was only truly relaxed when she was sleeping. She was in a state of vulnerability that she'd never show when she was awake. She was unguarded, at ease and at peace all at once. It was her even breathing that told him she wasn't dreaming, but then again, he already knew that.

Hermione sighed and rolled a little to her right, her face opposite of the stranger's. The bed dipped as he sat down by her serene sleeping form.

A long, elegant finger gently stroked her cheek. Sighing softly she lightly pushed her face up towards the caressing hand.

He really didn't want to do this to her. It wasn't her fault that she just happened to be a Mudblood AND Potter's friend. It was rotten luck. He didn't want to hurt her. It wasn't that he cared for her or anything; he just was against the idea of using her to get to Potter.

Staring intently at her sleeping form, he noted the helpless look. She seemed so innocent, untouched. Well, she wasn't going to be unharmed for much longer. She couldn't escape what was coming, he'd see to that, even if he really didn't want to.

She was the key, after all; the key to hurting Potter. It was either her or that Weasley, and since she was a Mudblood, she had won out; lucky her.

He would do his duty. She would be destroyed, mentally, physically and emotionally. When the Dark Lord wanted something done, he wanted it done right, without any mercy. Hermione didn't know it, but her days were numbered, and there wasn't very many left.

He had been chosen to destroy her because he just so happened to have access to the school. It wasn't right, using her like this. She may be a dirty Mudblood, but she was still human and he despised exploiting others to get to someone else. It was a sign of weakness. That person couldn't defeat the enemy himself so they had to use another.

But he didn't really have a choice in the matter. It was him or her, after all; kill or be killed, and well, Draco Malfoy wasn't particularly in a hurry to die.