A/N: This is my first story and this is just the prologue of it. It is extremely short and there is not much going on but there will be longer ones coming. I will try my best to keep them in character but I can't be perfect. Special thanks to my beta: demonbarber14, because without her I think this would've been a mess of grammar mistakes.

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing characters from J.K. Rowling, I promise to give them back…maybe.

"I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart." - Yann Martel, Life of Pi

Prologue: Nightmares

15th of October 1998

There was nothing but darkness. I was falling into a black hole of despair and I couldn't breathe. Abruptly, there was a bubbling ache in my chest and I started screaming. The voice beside my ear was full of contempt, the speaker watching me, helpless and feeble on the floor of the drawing room.

"I'm going to ask you again! This time, you will tell me the TRUTH! Where did you find this sword? WHERE?" the voice shrieked with impatience in my ear. My fragile form of on the floor whimpered and screamed in reply.

"I-It's just a duplicate. We just found it- PLEASE!"

Bellatrix Lestrange rose her wand from her tattered dress, she pinned me to the cold hard marble floor and leaned down slowly, menacingly.

"You stupid, filthy little mudblood, you're LYING! YOU TOOK THIS FROM MY VAULT!" She screeched with pure venom and impatience in her voice.

"CRUCIO!" she shouted. At first, I felt a sense of numbness that washed past me before a wave of pain came crashing down on me. I screamed, thrashed, shrieked, and clawed at the side of the floor helplessly. Bellatrix looked down on me with two black pools of nothing but revulsion, then she leaned closer.

"TELL ME THE TRUTH NOW, MUDBLOOD!" she spat, but her words were a blur to me; I suddenly couldn't feel or hear anything. There was nothing but pain; my body was aching everywhere as if someone had broken every piece of me. Then the process was repeated. She started speaking or shouting, I don't know; all I knew was that this torture would never end.

Unexpectedly, someone grabbed my arms and I felt someone's thick hair tickling me. I finally stopped screaming, I realised that calling for help was futile and no one was there to save me. Then there was the pain again, physical pain. Bellatrix was carving a word on my arm. Tears streamed down my face when I recognised her "work". Written into my flesh was the word that labeled me and brought me to tears once before: Mudblood. Furious with myself for being so weak, I tried not to cry, but my fingers were numb and my head throbbed; I was beginning to lose it, my own sanity. Tentatively, I glanced up. Bellatrix rose eventually and I thought I heard her yelling, "Bring me the dirty globin, NOW! I WANT TO KNOW IF THIS LYING MUDBLOOD IS ACTUALLY 'TELLING THE TRUTH'!"

Staring at an empty space, I felt my body shaking, weakening and being sucked into a black hole again. I was slowly losing myself until the voice in my head screamed I needed to stay strong for Harry, for Ron and for everyone in the Order. I tried to shake my head at the voice and give into the pain, but my weary eyes stumbled upon a tall, lean figure. Draco Malfoy stood, unmoving and unemotional, beside a grand emerald engraved armchair. His pale blond hair and figure were a blur to me, but I could clearly see his indifferent pale grey eyes staring straight at me, as if he were silently sending me a message, urging me to get up or to simply do something. His expression was unreadable and indifferent, yet I knew there was a message behind those eyes.

"Granger, get up. Potter and the Weasel need you, don't do this. Get up now." For the first time, his voice was soft and encouraging. Tired of fighting, I closed my tear-filled, tired eyes, but Malfoy's voice was still whispering words of encouragement, urging me to get up. His voice sounded as if he was unconcerned, though I can't help but think he was whispering to me with a tone of anguish, desperation, and…fear.

Right before I tried to rise, a ball of pain collided with me. I could barely feel my arms and legs. I was stuck, numb and falling, watching everything in my mind as nothing but obscured images. I watched myself from a distance, struggling and screaming to get the pain off my head, but as the screams increased, the more agonising it became. I watched myself, paralysed and exposed on the hard marble floor.

The broken girl on the floor can't move, can't feel anything, can't think, and the worst part is, she can't even scream anymore.

A soft gentle wind blew from the open window. The midnight air was cold but fresh. The young girl snuggled closer to her comforter and sighed dreamily. The dream was full of colours and fireworks; her family was praising and embracing her for winning the Holyhead Harpies' Quidditch game. Everybody was congratulating her, shaking her hand, and the crowd in the pitch was cheering her name in a constant roar of approval. She couldn't help but smile brightly and cheer in return. It was truly gratifying until a piercing scream pulled her out of her sweet dream. She opened her eyes and the screams continued to ricocheted to her ears. She scrambled out from her bed without even throwing a cloak to keep warmth and quickly ran to the next room to the source of the anguished screams.

The girl in the bed was shrieking agonizingly. She thrashed wildly around the bed and sweat trickled down her pale face. Her hair was messy and even wilder than the usual. Ginny grasped the girl's freezing hand and shook her gently awake.

"Hermione, Hermione, please. Wake up, it's just a nightmare." The girl did not respond, but continued to scream and shout incoherently. Tears were streaming down the brunette's face as she relentlessly shook her head. Frustrated, Ginny shook her harder until Hermione sat up and gasped for air as if she was underwater holding her breath, startling the ginger beside her.

"Oh Merlin, G-Ginny. I can't- I-It was horrible." Hermione was shaking; hands gripping the duvet cover tightly.

"Hermione, it's okay. It's over." Ginny soothed, patting Hermione's brown wavy wild hair but the poor, frightened, frozen girl was still shaking to her core. Ginny continued to comfort the terrified girl until she decided that Hermione was calm and composed enough to be left alone for the remainder of the night.

Suddenly, Hermione flung of her arms around her friend. Ginny gave a small start, but quickly recovered and patted her trembling friend's head and stroked her hair until Hermione spoke again in her quavering voice.

"Oh Ginny, it was h-horrible. It was the same nightmare again. B-Bellatrix, she was t-t-torturing me and calling me m-m-ud-"

"Hermione, no." Ginny silenced the quivering Hermione with her index finger.

"Don't say that word. It's over, that was during the war. Lestrange is gone." Hermione was still shaking and unsettled and suddenly, Ginny softened her tone of voice.

"Really, you have nothing to worry about." Hermione nodded gradually, but still seemed uncertain. She broke out from her reverie, wiped her tears away and tried hard not to stutter this time, "Thanks G-Ginny, I am really sorry that I woke you, though."

Ginny smiled in return, patted her friend's hair lightly. "It's all right Hermione, I'm your friend. You can tell me all about the nightmare again tomorrow. For now, go to sleep, alright?" She slowly stood up, walked out of the room, and shut the door with a click that made Hermione jump.

"I cannot believe this. I am most definitely not afraid of a silly nightmare, considering everything I've been through," Hermione muttered to herself before she sighed in defeat and lay back down.

Hermione closed her eyelids and slept peacefully without the aforementioned nightmare disrupting her sleep again. After a short while, a flash of white light shone in her mind, but fortunately it was not the nightmare. A hooded figure materialised in the dream, facing away from her as she stood and watched from a distance. The dream was vivid, the blinding white color illuminating the hooded figure's presence. Hermione craned her neck in order to distinguish this unusual form, but was slightly afraid of going near it. As it slowly turned, she still could not identify the figure due to the thick black cloak wrapped firmly around it. She caught a glimpse of the figure's eyes as it lifted its head slightly. Hermione squinted, and gasped at what she saw. Those eyes…those eyes staring right back at her brown chocolate eyes were the pale luminous grey eyes that belonged to a certain blond she had come to know.

A/N: So this is the POV of Hermione's interrogation with Bellatrix. Yes, i did change parts of Bellatrix's dialogue because I don't want anyone to sue me. Ahh plagiarism. *ducks* Do tell me what you think of it and promise full chapters later. Note: Yes, I spelled "realized" with a 's' rather than a 'z', it's British spelling the whole way through.