Fatalities

"Missing"

Note: 'Sup guys! I have no idea where I'm going with this story, but I really like it so far. First chapter's only eight pages, but please REVIEW and let me know what you think and what your guesses are. I really want to know, guys! Sorry for grammar mistakes. Please read every author's note, just scan it really quick if you don't want to, but I might mention something important about the chapter. Please REVIEW!

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned and created solely by JK Rowling. The original characters are mine alone, however.

Warnings: Violence, character death, crude language, disturbing and graphic imagery, gore, slash.

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1998-2002

When thinking about the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, or what was often called the 'Final Battle', Hermione Jean Granger couldn't really remember what she'd been hoping for. Harry never returned from the forest, though most think he died while facing Voldemort. It was valiant, brave, even, but it was also like a giant chess game, much like the one from their First Year at Hogwarts while saving the Stone, but this one seemed much, much worse. Instead of playing rook in this one, Harry became the queen and sacrificed himself to his opponent. In doing so – being the most valuable piece – he'd practically ended the war for everyone in Voldemort's favor.

The Final Battle, a misnomer, technically, Hermione had originally thought, had not been as the name hinted at. There had been many more after, the majority of which grew to become failures to the Order, and at that point, it wasn't a war to the Death Eaters. It became 'let's-see-who-can-kill-the-most-blood-traitors-and-mudbloods'. A way to waste time. But the Final Battle was the one where Harry was . . . ended.

Even after all of these years, Hermione could not bring herself to say Harry James Potter, her lifelong friend, was dead. She liked to think there was a possibility, that he was still alive. After all, they'd never recovered his body. Sometimes she could hear him, practically feel him sitting next to her. But he was gone, not even returning as a ghost.

After the Battle, Hermione worked with the Order and parts of what remained of the Ministry to bring down Voldemort's rising forces. Sometime in between now and then the war became a fight to save as many innocent people as they could, and slow down the spread of Death Eaters. They managed most of their goal, saving millions, but not everyone. They killed their attackers, but only when provoked. They never even made it close to the Inner Circle, either. Those most dangerous and deadly were never seen again, but those who might've were long gone by the time Hermione or anyone else ever got there.

The death toll steadily rose. Around that time, there was a mad rush to leave the country, and later the continent. The Order logically assumed it was because they didn't want to be killed by Voldemort, and that was partially true; but it wasn't until it was too late did they realize that there was another reason entirely:

Voldemort was putting Europe on a lockdown. The people were leaving while they still could. The Order became desperate and made last-minute vicious attacks against the walls that were rapidly being built and reinforced with magic and guards around the continent.

For Hermione, it ended after a battle, which they'd lost spectacularly. Death Eater tactics had been brilliant, and spontaneous. They hit where it had already hurt, and while they were distracted, they attacked a new area entirely.

It was a big circle, but the deaths grew higher and higher, and people the Order needed, people Hermione needed, were suddenly at her feet, lying on the ground.

Or some, like Neville Longbottom, were ripped to shreds by werewolves. Or some were blown to bits with extremely strong simultaneous reductos. Or some, like Professor Flitwick , burned into a pile of ashes. Or some, like Ginerva Weasley, were killed the most common way, by the Killing Curse. And some by the simplest of ways, like Percival Weasley, were disarmed and pushed off a very high building.

In a muggle campground, a rather big one, at that, mixed with civilians and military who were allied with the Order (Voldemort took over the Ministry, and with the muggle deaths, they were discovered by muggles and worked with them.), had just finished a huge battle, in which someone who hadn't been spotted in years appeared. Bellatrix Lestrange led a pack of werewolves and Death Eaters alike.

The opposing forces had retreated after Hermione and Remus had called in reinforcements upon seeing the sheer mass and power they'd had. Somehow, they'd won. But not soon enough, as Bellatrix left, she shot a final Killing Curse at Ronald Weasley.

Then, the battle was over.

Hermione stared down at Ron, who was eagle-sprawled and dead. There was no color to his face, no rise to his chest as he breathed. His eyes were wide open and he didn't blink. Hermione didn't cry, not as she remembered everything they'd been through together.

She lay down on the half-burnt grass right next to him, resting her head on his chest and curling up into a little ball, clutching his cloak in one hand and running another through his bright red hair, and breathed heavily as hot, angry tears burned into her eyes and fell. She made no sound, but directed her attention to the bright blue morning sky, with hardly a cloud in the air and the sun rising over the horizon. Pleasant looking red and orange leaves fluttered across them, and one brushed across Hermione's cheek, as if it were saying farewell.

And then, out of that same horizon, she watched the sky grow darker. No, that wasn't quite right. She watched as the sky seemed to grow a shadow like figure, over taking its blue hue. The sun seemed to die down, and it appeared cloudier, dreary, like a day when it looked like it was going to rain, but just remained dark and stormy looking.

She watched and turned her head away to cry into Ron, her husband, married for almost a year then, and sobbed into his shoulder.

Then, the campground was on fire, and Remus, her dearest friend, ripped her off of Ron's dead body as the air got hot and smoky. Hermione Weasley, nee Granger, shrieked violently raking her hand into the air to grab Ron, but only managing to get his dark blue coat off of him. She held it close to her body and cried as Remus carried her away, as a widow, running as fast as he could.

It wasn't until later, when he finally set her onto the ground, did she realize they'd been attacked again, from above, and it had burned the camp to ashes. Everyone else was dead, and it was only because they'd been so close to the edge did they make it out alive. For a little bit longer, Hermione and Remus traveled together, in an attempt to find an Order camp.

When they did, it was chaos and already under another attack.

That was when the Order, after all of those years, bent to Voldemort and snapped into pieces, scattered across all of Europe, and they lost the war.

She was left alone.

Hermione Weasley was all alone.

-Hermione Granger-

November, 2006

London was blown up years ago. That was OK, she sometimes thought. Rubble was great to hide in. She briefly remembered muggle movies, taking place in a post apocalyptic world. That was kind of accurate for her, except, Voldemort had an order to his rule. As much as she hated to admit it, he was smart about it, and rebuilt structures.

She traveled in muggle places, where Voldemort didn't care nearly as much about as he did the Wizarding World. Muggles were captured regularly and turned into slaves and servants and workers, as were muggleborns. All were treated like scum. There were some, who managed to hide and act as halfbloods, though they were often dirt poor.

Many stayed in hiding, retreating to the forests, to small places that attracted little attention, which was what Hermione tried to do. However, she mostly spent her time wandering the forests. She mostly walked, because any spot she thought was safe was just as likely to be overflowing with Death Eaters, ready to snatch her away and kill her, or even enslave her.

If they ever did find her, she would kill herself first.

Only words from Remus, who she'd long ago been separated from, had helped her go on after Ron's death.

"Survive, Hermione Weasley. Work for today; be thankful for every single tomorrow you get. You don't have to live for it but you can get through the day without dying." He'd said, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

But being captured, becoming nothing more than dirt under the heel of their shoes, was not something Hermione could ever willingly live through. That was as far as she could go.

For now, things were OK.

Hermione trudged through the forest, the crunch of dead leaves under her black Converse were the most comforting sounds at the moment. It was cold, around zero degrees Celsius, and the winds were strong, at about twenty to thirty miles per hour, which made her hair whip across her face in the gusts. Her lips were chapped and her fingers were stuffed into the pockets of her muggle denim jacket and a pink jumper she'd knitted together herself, an old T-shirt underneath and Ron's dark blue cloak wrapped around her shoulders.

She'd applied a couple of warning charms, but they were very weak since – just in case – she was attacked.

The little beaded bag she had while hunting Horcruxes with Harry and Ron still existed, but it was well worn now, and held together with magic. Hermione was in the process of knitting herself a new bag and adding the same Undetectable Extension Charm, but didn't really have the time for it. Well, maybe she did, but there wasn't really a point in doing so anyway, since the old one worked just fine for her. And maybe she didn't give herself time to make it because the little beaded bag meant more to her than it really should, because it reminded her of Harry and Ron. So she kept it with her.

Her bag consisted more of food and clothes than books now, since it was difficult for her to actually go into populated muggle and wizarding areas that sold those. In order to be normal, you had to have some sort of idea or mark. Obviously, Death Eaters had access to everywhere just by showing their Dark Mark, but everybody else had to have IDs that classified them by blood status and level on the social chain, such as 'slave' or 'civilian', which was pretty much the equivalent to saying "you-can-kill-me-and-there's-nothing-I-can-do-about-it".

Everybody had to have one, and in order to do so there were buildings run by muggles and wizards alike. The job didn't pay much unless you were actually in charge of something, and they would put you into the giant book of names and copied IDs. When the card is held up, a wizard or witch would cast a simple revealing charm, and it would check for fake IDs and it'd also list background information. Muggles described them as holographic-looking, which, of course, purebloods didn't understand.

The making included several enchantments, which was why wizards were involved in such a mundane job. Hermione herself was actually quite skilled in creating them, and sometimes when passing through the darker parts of old muggle cities that were still partially inhabited, she created IDs in exchange for money, or perhaps just food or even an extra blanket.

She often spent her spare time setting up the cards so all that had to be done was insert the picture and information. This was all illegal, of course, so Hermione was very careful with where she showed up and who she offered her services to. Muggleborns were not allowed to have wands, and any spotted must be reported. 'Feel free to stop them in whatever way you deem necessary', or so the signs claimed.

These signs were posted everywhere; sometimes they just fluttered in the wind and Hermione would grab it out of the air and crumple it angrily into a ball. But there was really no use. The papers just . . . appeared. They were dumped into the air by officials on brooms; they were passed around by Voldemort supporters on the street.

She hated it. But there was really nothing she could do about it except rip them up.

Hermione glanced at her watch, another thing barely hanging on. The metal was badly scratched and the ticking made a funny sound, the leather strap torn and fraying. But watches were actually pretty expensive and hard to find on the streets, so she also didn't consider buying another one unless she somehow came across the money to pay for it. Not that she would waste it all on a petty little watch.

It wasn't that Hermione was poor. In fact, she had enough money to live comfortably, but it was in her Gringotts vault. Ron hadn't been exactly rich either, but when they married and opened a joint account, Harry had taken his own money and dumped some of it with them, partially as a wedding gift and partially because money was a resource they needed in a war.

Hermione often wondered if the money still existed, if Gringotts remained as untouchable as ever, barring their incident with the Cup and the dragon. It still made her smile just thinking about it.

The time was 4:39, and it was already very cloudy, making it darker. But she'd been doing a lot of walking and wanted to stop for the day. Hermione decided that the thick forest she was in was decent enough. The trees varied in height, making it hard for someone to come in on broom, and she still used the same enchantments from when she Harry, and Ron, had been camping on the hunt for Horcruxes.

So she set everything up, the task so routine for her, so normal, that she didn't even think twice about it, putting the tent up and saying the spells. She tossed her purse inside and started a little fire, brushing over the ground to move leaves and twigs and sit down on the ground.

"Incendio." She murmured. Instantly the branches and dried up leaves lit up and they crackled into the night air, not that anybody could see it through the charms. Hermione opened up her bag, pulling out the half-eaten can of cold soup that she heated up with a warming charm and scooped into her mouth with a plastic spoon. It wasn't really good, but she savored every bite of it, and took out a canteen of water that didn't have much left inside of it.

Sighing, she decided to take one sip now and one sip when she was done, and finish the rest off tomorrow morning. Hermione scraped her spoon on the inside of the can, eating as much as possible. She was fairly sure there was a stream of sorts nearby, and then she'd wash her face and her utensils there. Hermione practically ached for a nice bath, but that wasn't really an option right now. Maybe next time she sold an ID card, she'd make them pay with a bathtub and a hot spray of water.

Yes, she'd do that. Desperate people would do desperate things like letting complete strangers take a bath in their house. Well, Hermione wasn't really a stranger. Practically all of Europe knew her name from the wanted posters describing her name, appearance, and it even included a picture of her, an old one, that depicted her running away in the middle of the city, occasionally looking over her shoulder and throwing out a hex or two.

Hermione liked to crumple those up, too.

Speaking of wanted posters, she spotted another one just drifting in the wind, and she grabbed it as it came by, flipping it over and frowning at it. Hermione had been expecting her own name and face on it, as there weren't many wanted people left alive, or at least, none that were as important as her. As the last remainder of the Golden Trio and the smartest, she was the biggest threat to Voldemort.

Not that she was actually doing anything anymore, unless you wanted to count making illegal fake IDs, but that was hardly a good reason to put fifty million galleons on her head.

As the fire died out, Hermione slipped inside the tent and lit up a candle, this time with a match. Magic was limited to people nowadays.

It started with the shadow that seemed to cover the sky. It prevented people from leave the continent by air, but it also put an invisible pressure people's magical cores, including her own. The only way to relieve it was to either get the Dark Mark, or get the silver bracelet shaped like a snake entwining itself around her wrist, emeralds for eyes. It latched onto your skin and the jaw would open up and bite into your wrists, effectively relieving the pressure.

Hermione had attempted to mimic it, and was getting closer and closer. It was one of the things she did to pass time, other than making IDs and running from Death Eaters. The band was made of silver, but she had no emeralds. The only other possibility she could think of was to use the diamond from her wedding ring, or perhaps the gold, but she wasn't going to use that unless she was desperate.

For now, she was cutting two little holes into her wrist in the morning, which was only half as good as the actual thing. Using too much magic, however, was painful after awhile, and exhausting. Hermione had to limit her magic so she didn't end up accidently killing herself or passing out. The latter had happened once in the middle of a battle:

She gasped as she felt a pain spike from every part of her body, but continued to throw out spells while trying to figure out the source of her pain, which grew worse with every spell she cast. And then she lost her footing and fell down the hill. The spells kept buzzing by and it was a miracle she wasn't hit by anything. Instead, she rolled down the hill, twigs lodging themselves into skin, dirt smudging and flying up as she flailed. There was a horrifying moment where her back connected solidly into a very big oak, and she couldn't move.

The Death Eaters laughed from above the very steep hill she'd fallen, and one raised his hand, and she shot out one last desperate "Incendio!"

It lit up the dry thrush nearby and then the trees, and Hermione had started a wildfire. She hoped she was far enough away so that the fire wouldn't climb down, but the Gryffindor knew it was only a matter of time.

Her eyes closed as someone came running, the edge of a dark green cloak filling her vision and sweeping across her face in a way similar to that of the leaf from Ron's death.

It was with those thoughts did she finally fall asleep.

That next morning, Hermione packed up her belongings and tent, stuffed it away into her bag and made her way down to the stream. It was too small to even consider bathing in, but it was moving water and Hermione dipped her face inside. It might've been below freezing temperature and it was partially frozen but the water woke her up.

There was a crunch behind her, and Hermione reacted on instinct, pulling her face out of the stream and silently ducking behind a particularly thick tree and tall bushes, wiping her face on Ron's cloak that she wrapped around herself and clasped.

Hermione almost hexed the incoming figure on the spot. She could have recognized him from a mile away.

Draco Malfoy strode almost silently just past the spot she been crouching in earlier.

"Stupefy!" she shouted.

He jumped backwards and his wand seemed to come out of nowhere, and he put up a shield charm that she attacked and beat back. In retrospect, Hermione should've apparated away on the spot, because the Malfoys were rich and he had the Dark Mark, and even if he didn't he could have afforded the bracelet. He had full power and she hadn't even pierced her wrist yet.

Then, as she got more and more tired and her spells got weaker, she let out a flimsy disarming charm and he allowed it to pass through his shield and knock away his wand.

She stared, shocked as he kept his face cold and expressionless, looking down at her. His grey eyes scanned her appearance, and he held his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not here to fight you, Granger," he spat. He reached into his pocket, and she almost cursed him again, but he paused, and pulled out a piece of parchment. Malfoy held up her wanted poster, which she flinched at. And then he unfolded another piece of parchment with MISSING: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN? He had a picture of him looking just as cold as ever with steely grey eyes and his name below it.

"I left the Dark Lord." He said casually, as if he were saying it was about to snow.

"Why?" she spat, her wand trembled with the effort of holding it up for so long.

"Because I think the Dark Lord was hiding something. Something big that Mother and Father aren't telling me. And I need to find out why."

Hermione lowered her arm.

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Missing end.

Chapter Two to follow.

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