Well, I wasn't sure whether too continue this or not. It seems to be heading off down a very dark and disturbing path. I think this will propably be a series of little scenes in Hermione's new life. We'll see.

Anyways, enjoy!

Raising Darkness

It was bright when I woke. I wanted to know where I was, what had happened. I asked the tall older man. I didn't like the younger one.

He wouldn't tell me, but the younger one wanted to, maybe he wasn't so bad.

They shook their heads and told me not to worry, to go back to sleep and to rest.

A large, motherly woman bustled over to us and forced some liquid down my throat. It made me cough and splutter. The younger man laughed and took my hand. He has hands of ice.

I recognise his face, but it's the only familiar thing in this surgically bright room, and even then it's hazy. Like a memory from long ago. I feel that I should remember this room and the people in it, but I don't.

The high vaulting arches of this room seem to hold secrets of my past, and it is fitting that as the old, silvery haired man explains to me that the younger one, Tom, is my father, something clicks. I have been living a lie for sixteen years. A lie that I have believed with every fibre of my being; with every part of my soul.

The secrets and lies come pouring out of the old man's mouth, and I share a glance with Tom. It's a strange, boring name, for one so unusual… and amazing. Apparently the old 'me' would have been disgusted with this sentiment, at least that's what this old fool is trying to lead me to believe.

All I remember are the lies; lies with no real form; abstract lies, silhouetted against a night black as pitch.

He wants to stop Tom from taking me from this place; expects me to agree to this idiocy; tells me that my friends will be worried.

I don't recognize the people he mentions; a flaming red head and a scarred young man, one who my father hates.

I refuse to believe that my father is possible of harbouring hatred for anyone. It's unclear, but all I remember is love at this man's hands.

Dumbledore; that's who he is. The one who's been feeding me lies all these years. Somehow I don't feel the urge to have him punished for it. Possibly I learnt something in the years he's had me under this spell. It remains to be seen if that 'something' is beneficial or not.

So, what did you think? Am I heading in totaly the wrong direction, or is this working?

Review and tell me!

Pixie

xx