Oblivion

„Hello Mudblood."

She had watched the world fall apart around her The final battle had taken away everything. She had never been prepared to lose, had never considered the possibility. She had only been prepared to die.

"Get up!"

Only the fate that had awaited her was so much worse. Her day was filled with never-ending agony in the forsaken hole they had dragged her into...long ago – she had no way of knowing for sure, for night and day were now merged as one.

"Get on your feet, filthy mudblood."

A slap to her face. Hard. Making her fall.

"Be grateful they forbade us to kill you, bitch."

All her friends had been killed or captured. Lupin, lying in a heap of his own blood, seeping from gashes on his chest. Fred and George – a blast of green light. And Harry... with foolish courage falling, Ginny, being dragged away from his body screaming. War in the magical world was not very different from its muggle twins – kill the men, capture the women to dispose of slowly.

"Pay attention!"

A kick to her lying form – coward – another one.

"Get up!"

The worst had been Ron's death. They had been madly in love those last days, sneaking away at every opportunity to savour their time together. Fortunately, his death had been quick, unlike so many others.

"Stop it, Pettigrew. No point in killing her. I'll take it from here."

She startled, she knew that voice. It didn't scare her. But she had to be scared. Enemies were all she had left. Still...

"Granger!"

He wasn't going to hurt her? He had grey eyes, she remembered. They had looked at her in the strangest ways. How was he looking now? Did she actually want to know?

"Granger! … Hermione, can you hear me?"

With great effort, she forced herself back to consciousness, shedding the protective cloak of memories she had woven around herself. He was still handsome – not that it mattered.

"Mal… Draco", she stated with a voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Hermione", he acknowledged her, crouching down beside her. "How bad is it?"

She hadn't felt her body in months, now she could only identify one feeling: pain.

"Everything hurts", she sobbed, her eyes showing emotion she had believed well and truly lost after all they had done to her – made her do.

"Follow me, Hermione, please. I need you to. Can you walk?" he demanded gently.

"I suppose", she mumbled, scrambling to her feet awkwardly. She did not trust him in the least, having lost the ability to trust anyone, including herself.

Passing through the bars beside him, she snapped in a brief moment of lucidity. Without thought, the girl bolted and dashed down the dark corridors along cells containing girls with similar fates. When she turned around the corner without being hit by a curse, for an instant, an almost forgotten feeling filled her. Tiny tendrils of light cleansing her darkened soul... hope. Only to bump into someone much taller than her seconds later. A pair of blazing red eyes met hers, a hand stretched out towards her. Then there was a flash of green light, a moment of fear and nothing – oblivion.

Hermione Granger died at the hands of Lord Voldemort exactly six months after the final battle. With her disappeared the last of the light.

The war's final magical victim, however, was someone more unlikely. Accepting the possible consquences of becoming a blood-traitor, Draco Malfoy gave his life trying to fulfill one Ginevra Weasley's last wish: To save Hermione and set her free.

With his failure, the world would never become as it once had been. The future...

...was darkness.