Girl In A Gilded Cage

She was sitting in the center, surrounded by gleaming metal bars. A fire alights in the room's only fireplace. Darkness must be near, she thinks. An explosion is heard to the west and she feels a tear streak down her dusty cheek. She knows Hogwarts lies to the west.

Her mind sometimes goes numb and hours pass with out her feeling a thing. Once, she thinks, a whole day passed without her being aware of it.

Sometimes she thinks she will go mad but reminds herself hope is a positive emotion and not to be silly by thinking Bad Thoughts.

She was stupid to be lured into that trap and she was stupid not to believe that he, with those trusting, friendly eyes, could ever harm her.

He is one the side of good. We've been partnered since the beginning of this horror!, she argued.

We haven't heard from him in months, her friends said, it could be a trap.

How could you think he would ever betray us? I'm going; he needs me! Portkey in hand, she tapped it with her wand and reappeared in the middle of a circle of robed and masked figures.

Her friend and mentor was in the middle of it all half-changed and maddened by Dark magic. The Death Eater released the spell on him and he leaped.

Suffice it to say; she learned a man under curses and Dark magic could do many a thing, including betraying those he cares for.

She will not think of it now. She must focus elsewhere.

She sometimes hums familiar tunes to herself to keep her mind occupied.

Sometimes she wishes she could crawl out of her skin, her spirit free to move about.

Sometimes she imagines she is just having a nightmare and I would like to wake up now, thank you.

Sometimes she traces figures (890 X 40 = 35600 and pi equals 3.1416 . . .) or word problems into the dusty floor just to relieve herself that she can remember: It is all Still There.

Sometimes she remembers an obscure line or two from favorite poets she has read:

This fire, like the eye of a Gordian snake,

Bewitch'd me towards; and I soon was near

A sight too fearful for the feel of fear

Was she that sight? Sometime she was afraid for night to fall. It is so hard too keep track of time here. Or was it the other that kept her captive? He is the thing fear should fear, she thinks. Was it the one who cursed who this existence or was it the friends that seemingly abandoned her into the hands of the enemy?

She was nothing but a plaything now, a novelty too soon discarded. She, Hermione Granger, Hogwart's cleverest graduate and a mudblood to boot, is nothing but a girl in a gilded cage kept in the exact center of a bare room.

The lone window in the room is too small as to allow any Sun to be seen; only a weak light shine through. And she thinks they have bewitched it, anyway. Some days seem twice as long as others.

A servant enters with her daily rations with his head bowed. He places the tray outside the bars and shuffles out of the room, never seeing her.

In her imagination, she has grasped his collar and bashed his head into the infernal bars many times. But she knows she will not do it. His glazed eyes tell her he has been under the Imperius curse for a long while. And she really did not want to harm an innocent classmate. I'm sorry, Justin, at least you can't feel frustrated, she thinks as if he could read her thoughts.

She reaches carefully between the bars. A ham and cheese sandwich. Again? They must be changing the schedule. It supposed to be roast beef, egg salad, ham and cheese, then turkey.

She holds back a sob. I was so close to devising a calendar! Then she reminds herself: no thinking Bad Thoughts and pushes the discouragement away.

She bites into the sandwich with a low growl. Her metabolism has changed since her imprisonment. She is always on the edge of hunger.

Temporarily sated, she stretches onto the floor and begins to hum drowsily.

Her eyes slip shut. How long have I been here, really? Are they still fighting? Do they know I'm still alive?

She drifts off into an uneasy sleep and dreams.

Remus is here! He looks at her with sadness in his eyes and an apology on his lips.

She looks at him with a smile, she is happy to see him well. "I can't blame you for this," she says as she rushes over to give him a hug. She smashes into her bars. Her skin cracks and smokes. Shrieking in agony, she looks at him with tear filled eyes. "Why?" she whispers. He morphs into their Enemy. It always comes back to him. He takes out a silver dagger and slices across his throat. Remus's voice echoes off bony lips: "We all die for something. I died for you." And again he is her teacher, sprawled, dead on the floor until he disappears into the ground.

Scene change. The bars rise. There is a bright, white light at the end of a corridor. Light blasts all about her. She is filled with warmth. Two figures approach. One is filled with ebony, a comforting darkness, and a glint of green, of life. The other is filled with righteous fire, a furious protector. How could she have thought they would forsake her!

They approach, closer---

She is awakened by agony. Her skin stretches, her bones crack and crunch together to form a new shape, clothes are ripped to shreds. Her features turn lupine as she throws back her head and howls.

This new creature--for it is not she here now--hurls itself at the bars. It wants to escape, hunt. Welts appear under its pelt and it growls into the darkness.

A figure approaches out of the shadows beyond the cage and show a feral grin on skeletal lips. He loves this time of the month. Reduces the cleverest, the smartest into the form of a dim-witted beast.

The beast circles and circles and circles the cage.

It whimpers and bristles with rage as it bears its teeth. The watcher is unaffected.

It leaps like horse throwing its rider; it hides its nose under its paws like a dog being punished.

The hours of the night pass until it's nearly dawn. Patterns repeat: circle, leap, cower. Then it curls into a ball and sleeps, defeated.

Hermione wakes and feels the burning ache of re-knit muscle and bone, the stiffness of swollen joints, and the pounding headache that follows after a transformation. Another month has passed, she realizes while lying on the cold floor.

She feels eyes watching her.

She knows with out turning they will be red and reptilian. She hears the swish of his wand and clothes appear next to her. She keeps her back to him and dresses.

She faces him and says nothing. They stare at each other. She takes in the pallid face and wishes with all her might that he would die. She looks into his eyes and feels no fear.

His gilt-haired lieutenant rushes into the room and he breaks eye contact with her.

He hears some words perfectly clear. She hears "explosion," "base camp," "Potter and Phoenixes," "coming," and "I think we should flee now, sire."

She turns away and pretends not to hear and be uninterested, a cold smile on her face. She thinks a juvenile thought: They are in sooo much trouble. She turns and stares at the duo, eyes glinting wildly. The man with the pale hair visibly gulps. And she can imagine what he is thinking: What happens when the smartest becomes one of the strongest?

Oh, how she wishes he would come closer, bars be damned, and find out.

The door to room, always hidden in shadows, glows brightly. She hears Fawkes and the sweet music of cursed Death Eaters. Voldemort is stunned. His minion has vanished, apperated away. The Enemy looks crazily about him, confusion on his face.

Through the doorway, she can see them. Her friends. The first one enters, glasses glinting, and hollers a curse at the snake-man. The other follows, hair a corona around his face. They step over the body and approach her cage.

They smile at each other.

She is home at last.