Never Would Have Thought
By Misha

Disclaimer- Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and is not mine, however much I might wish differently. However, I am not making any money off of this, so please do not sue me!

Author's Notes- Okay, this is about as dark and depressing as they can get. If you don't like that sort of thing, then I'd avoid this one. It was written after reading OotP. So, big spoilers. I just got thinking about the prophecy. We all know how it'll end, but what if it went the other way? What if Voldemort won? What would the world be like, especially for Harry's friends. So, this was born. It's not a nice fic, sorry, I'm in a dark place right now. Well, that's all for now, enjoy.

Pairing- Harry/Hermione, implied Draco/Harry.

Summary- She never once thought that it would be this way in the end.

Spoilers- All five books, but big ones for Order of the Phoenix.

Rating- Mild R for mature themes. Probably too harsh, but just to be on the safe side.

I heard the prophecy and assumed, with the innocence of youth, that it could only end one way. I never thought that Harry could lose and that all hope would be lost with him.

But that's what happened.

Harry is dead, Voldemort reigns supreme and Hell has opened up on Earth. I rot away in a prison camp, wishing with each day that the Death Eaters would kill me like they killed the others.

So many of the people that I love are dead. The Weasleys, Neville, Remus...

It's strange, but I envy them now. Especially the ones who died from the Killing Curse, a nice quick, merciful death. The purebloods all got that, at least the ones killed after the war was over.

That's not for me. When they choose to finally end my misery, it'll be painful and long. I wish for it at night, when I doze off to a restless, tormented sleep.

I don't even have peace in my dreams.

I don't have nightmares exactly, though I'm amazed sometimes that I don't, with all the torture I've withstood, you'd think it would visit me at night. It doesn't.

I think I'd rather endure that than what I do dream of.

You see, at night, I dream of Harry. I don't let myself think of him during the day, the idea is too painful.

Harry the hero. Harry my friend. Harry who I loved. Harry who failed. Harry, who is the reason I endure this Hell.

He's the reason they torture me. I'm the woman Harry Potter loved, that makes me an object of hatred and ridicule.

They've all enjoyed me now. They take great pleasure in taking Harry Potter's lover as their own.

They resent that he died quickly, in battle as a hero should. They never had a chance to torture and demean him like they would loved to, so they do it to me instead.

Everything they do to me, they're doing to him in their minds.

If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have caught their attention. I'm only a worthless mudblood, after all. No, if I was anyone else, I would have died quickly.

But I'm not. I may be a mudblood, but I was his mudblood and that makes me special.

When I sleep I see him and when I wake, I'm in pieces. It breaks me to remember Harry. Remember his face, his voice, his touch. I hate remembering that he loved me, because I'm no longer the girl he loved.

He loved me when I was young and innocent, a schoolgirl so full of dreams and ideals.

It was a perfect time. It was a fairy tale. We were so much in love, the way you can only be when you're young and in love for the first time.

The world was falling apart, but all that mattered was the two of us. I loved him, so I believed that it would be all right. That he would triumph and we would be happy, but it doesn't work like that.

Instead, the whole world fell apart and this is what I was left with. Sometimes, when I think back, one thing that stands out in my memory was how foolish we were with our House prejudices.

Gryffindors were the best and the Slytherins were all evil. That's not true.

The few Gryffindors that still live have joined them. While some Slytherins died for our cause and there are a few, still, who try to help.

Draco Malfoy is one of those.

I never thought it possible. Malfoy, Harry's enemy, trying to help. He can't save me, of course. No one can.

But he has attempted to make my life more bearable.

He slips me Potions too numb me, so that I won't feel the pain when they torture me or especially when they use me for... other things. He also tries to interfere when it gets too much.

He's high enough ranking that he can even get me out of my cell for a day by claiming that he wants me for some 'fun'.

He never touches me, it's not me he wants. It was never me.

Instead he feeds me and feeds me Sleeping Drought, so I can have a night of dreamless sleep. He can't treat me too well, or people would notice, but he does what he can.

He's never told me why he does it, but I have my suspicions... After all, love and hate are two sides of the same coin.

Looking back, I think I understand Draco better now, than I ever did before.

It's interesting. The idea doesn't bother me now, like it would have years ago.

There's too much wrong in the world for something like that to bother me. All my nightmares have come true and my dreams have forsaken me, for all I ever dreamed of was Harry and he is lost to me forever.

Yet, at the same time, he lingers all around me.

No one has forgotten him, certainly not me.

I suffer because of him and I still can't hate him. I loved him for as long as I can remember and though, I no longer think I'm capable of love, I did love him once. But that was a long time ago, when I was young and the world still had hope.

Now there is no hope, no love, there is only acceptance. I know I will never escape this Hell and all I can do is pray that death comes sooner rather than later.

The End