AU where there aren't any Horcruxes, so there's no Horcrux hunt.
Written For:
The "One Character Only" Competition: Round 4
Because you all have free reign on what you want to write about, except you MUST choose five of the prompts.
Prompts - Cursed (word) / Drunk (word) / stars (word) / Moonlight (word) / Your character must be in a cross-gen pairing (random prompt)
Are You Crazy Enough to Do It:
95. (AU!) Dark!Hermione
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: Crystals & Gemstones Club
Turquoise: Expert: Write about unwavering loyalty or protection for another person.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: Writing Club
Book Club: Evangeline Samos: (word) magnetic, (word) haughty, (word) weapon
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry: Writing Club
Showtime: Night Surgeon - (word) Remember
Not So Light
Eighteen-year-old Hermione woke up to a long crash. She sat up in her bed. She swallowed nervously. "Mum? Dad?" she called.
There was no answer.
She slowly got out of bed and inched towards her bedroom door. She breathed quietly as she pulled it open, trying to look out in the hallway without opening the door fully.
She screamed when a face appeared.
She stumbled back as the door flung open. "Who are you?" she screamed at the intruder.
The man smiled sinisterly as he gripped a weapon—a knife—and she noticed something on his shirt. Dark red splotches.
"Is that blood?" she fearfully asked.
"Your parents screamed so sweetly, and you'll soon join them. Not before I have a little fun first." He looked her body up and down, and for the first time in her life, she felt dirty.
She ran for her bed and grabbed her wand from underneath her pillow. She had never used magic on a Muggle before, but what could she do? This monster already killed her parents; she couldn't let him hurt her. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Her hand shook as she raised the wand threateningly in front of her.
The man laughed darkly. "What are you going to do with a stick? Throw it at me?"
"Stay away from me," she growled.
He unzipped his pants and touched himself through the fabric.
"You're feisty, Girl. I am going to have so much fun with you."
She cursed him without thinking. She didn't think about what spell it was. Her only thought was getting away from him and making him pay for what he did to her mum and dad.
She was blinded by her rage. And before she realized what she was doing, she shouted a curse she never thought she would. "Avada Kedavra!"
And with her distant eyes, she watched the Muggle—the Murderer—fall down. Dead.
Her vision cleared, and she remembered where she was. "I killed him," she muttered dispassionately. She couldn't bring herself to care. Not when he killed her mum and dad and was planning to do worse to her before finishing her off.
What she did care about was whether she went to Azkaban. It wouldn't matter that it was in self-defense. The only thing everyone in the Wizarding world would care about was she not only cast an Unforgivable, but she did it on a Muggle.
She quickly gathered a few things she couldn't bear to leave behind. She then stepped over the dead body and stopped in the hallway.
She took a deep breath and crept to her parents' room. The two of them laid in a puddle of blood, their throats slashed.
Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Mum. I'm sorry, Dad. I should have been able to save you."
And then she ran downstairs and out of the front door. She looked around at her surroundings, knowing she'd never see this familiar place again. And then under the moonlight and stars, she disappeared from her neighborhood with a loud pop.
X
Hermione sat in a dingy bar, nursing a bottle of alcohol. It wasn't easy to get it. She might be of age in the magical world, but the Muggle world was a different story. Still, with magic, anything was possible.
She knew she was drunk, but she didn't care. She had nothing to live for. She was all alone. When she wasn't drunk, she spent all of her time thinking about things she missed. Harry, Ron, the magical world. She thought about things she feared. Her friends hating her. Going to Azkaban. Dealing with Dementors on a daily basis.
She was better off drinking so much that she couldn't think. Thinking was highly overrated anyways. The know-it-all within her cringed at the very idea.
"Well, well, well, I never thought I'd see you in a bar of all places."
Hermione looked through blurry eyes and recognized the wizard that wore a haughty expression, despite them never having spoken to each other. "Rabastan Lestrange," she slurred.
"And drunk as well. The Muggle-born bookworm is just full of surprises."
"Muggle-born? Don't you mean Mudblood? That's what your kind likes to call me, right?"
"Believe it or not, not all Death Eaters think Muggle-borns are beneath them."
She blinked. She never thought there might be another reason, besides thinking Pure-bloods are superior, for a person to become a Death Eater. "Then enlighten me."
"Why don't you tell me why you're in a bar instead?"
She took another gulp of beer. "I've got a better idea. Why don't you tell me why you're in a Muggle bar?" She didn't know why she was engaging him in conversation, but he had such a magnetic personality that she couldn't help herself.
He looked away. "I knew you were here."
She narrowed her eyes. "You've been following me? For how long?"
He snuck a look at her. "Long enough to know the reason you're here. I was just asking for the reason because I didn't know what else to say." He paused for a moment before he said the damning statement. "You killed a Muggle."
"I doubt you care about something as insignificant as murder, but he killed my parents. He deserved it."
"I'm not arguing with you, but if you want to go back to your life, you can."
"What?"
"I cleaned up the scene. I made it look like a Death Eater killed everyone."
"Why would you do that?"
"Why ask? Just be thankful that you can act like your still the innocent Gryffindor bookworm. Everyone will probably believe you ran away when confronted by the Death Eater and went into hiding for safety."
She stared at him. "You said not everyone joined in the Death Eaters because they think of Muggle-borns as Mudbloods. Why did you become a Death Eater?"
"The light side isn't so great."
She looked at the bottle of beer and pushed it away. The conversation was sobering her up, and there was no reason to keep trying to get drunk. "I don't understand."
"My parents both considered themselves to be on the light side."
"And?" she asked uncomprehendingly.
"And they were abusive bastards. Rodolphus did his best to shield me from them, but he couldn't always be there. They beat up both of us, though Rodolphus got it worse because he took beatings meant for me. We decided at a young age that if our parents were light, we wanted to be dark."
"Not everyone light is like that, though."
"I know, but at least with the Death Eaters, we know to watch our backs. We could never know who to trust on the light side."
"Why did you help me?"
"You're just full of questions, aren't you?"
She didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she remained silent, waiting for an answer.
"Fine. I wanted to help you because you're special. Satisfied now?"
"Yes, I am."
X
"Why are you following me?" Rabastan asked as he walked down the sidewalk.
"I'm not following you. I just happen to be going in the same direction as you."
"Shouldn't you get back to your life?"
"Maybe I don't want to."
He stopped short. "You won't go to Azkaban. I made sure you can't be connected to any death."
She stopped as well, standing just behind him. "I believe you. I'm just thinking about what you said. About how the light side isn't so great. I've seen hints of prejudice the light side has. The reason why Harry went into Gryffindor was because he was told that all Slytherins are dark wizards before he even got to Hogwarts. It doesn't matter that there are wizards and witches from other houses that also became Death Eaters. They only focus on Slytherins, and I'm sure there are plenty of Slytherin who didn't become a Death Eater or aren't currently thinking about becoming a Death Eater. And..."
He turned around to face her. "And?"
"If I hadn't left, if I had stayed and told them what happened, I would have been in Azkaban. In the Muggle world, if you kill someone and it can be proved that it was in self-defense, you're not punished. Unfortunately, the Wizarding world doesn't treat killing in self-defense the same way. So maybe, maybe I don't want to be part of the light side any longer."
"I said not all Death Eaters are the same in the fact they believe in blood superiority, but there are still plenty that hate you because of your blood, so please tell me you're not thinking about becoming a Death Eater."
"I'm not. I just don't feel quite as light as I used to. Maybe using the Killing Curse changed me."
"You shouldn't be on your own," Rabastan warned her.
Hermione tilted her head and she walked a step closer so they were toe-to-toe, their bodies almost touching. "Who says I'm going to be alone? I don't think such a loyal person, such as yourself, would leave me alone. In fact, I think you will do everything you have to in order to protect me."
He gulped. "What you're doing is dangerous. You should take a step back."
"Or what?" she whispered.
"Or I might kiss you."
"I'm not walking away." Hermione knew this was dangerous, but there was something about Rabastan.
She had no reason to trust him at his word, but there was something about him that drew her like a moth to a flame.
Everything else would figure itself out, but she wanted and needed to be near him. And she just knew Rabastan wouldn't turn her away.
xXx
(word count: 1,609)