Chapterone

Fuck yeah, crack plots!

This story is half for my pleasure, but also to help me develop my writing skills and storytelling. What a fun way to do so!

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Hermione gripped her spell casting arm tightly, hoping to alleviate the intense flames of pain that engulfed it. It could be worse, she could be dead-at least she thought that in the beginning of the pain. Or, well, she was supposed to be. She looked to her aggressor. The unmasked man in flowing black robes-a remaining death eater presumably, lay on the ground paralyzed and rigid. They had exchanged their spells hastily; Hermione was reluctant to do so but found it was do or die as her hexes proved to be of no use and her stamina draining rapidly.

The spell had been heavily laced with magic, and it him solidly on the chest. Within seconds, he was on the ground and unable to move at all.

Hermione was hit on her hand by his killing curse- it was a potent cast curse, a bright glowing green filled with dark intention. The curse was sudden death, but she found it to be less potent than expected to her joy. Using willpower and clenching her teeth, she tried her best to make the pain recede, however it only spread and grew almost exponentially. Soon enough she was not even able to clamp down her teeth, muscles like putty.

She fell to the ground, body shuddering heavily, face contorting in the unimaginable pain that was suddenly real. Muscles contracted and detracted rapidly, body shuddering as seizures rippled through.

"Fuck!" She managed to somehow squeak, as her whole body was enveloped with sheer pain. She kicked her legs, trying to find some sort of outlet for the excruciating pain, but found that she was not even able to wiggle her toes. The numbness crept up her arm slowly, despite her fighting. Hermione was fighting a losing battle. But she had a chance most witches and wizards never had when it came to Avada Kedavra- the chance to fight it back, and so her will remained ironclad as she endured the pain.

She could only think one thing- this was a hundred times worse than being crucio'd. She had been able to scream, when tortured. She was able to kick and scream and plead. But with this, there was no outlet. Hermione was barely able to speak, and every internal organ feeling as if it was dipped in a vat of boiling water. No, that was too pleasant. Her organs were being burned by hot coals, stabbed with dull and rusty and serrated blades, pulled apart and stretched and crushed. Her head felt as if it were repeatedly bashed against sharp and ragged rocks, and it burned horribly, impeding her thoughts. The nerves in her body starting shutting down, and Hermione began to no longer feel. It was not a relief, but a heavy concern. In fact, her whole back was numb, so she felt like she was floating, no longer on the ground. It was spreading all over her back which also explained why she could no longer move anything- the spell must have attacked her spine and either severed or put to sleep her nerves. Death, though not instant, would probably soon follow once it spread to her head.

Still grasping heavily onto her conscious, Hermione managed to think about how likely anyone would rescue would be, and her logic soon dashed her hopes. As the numbness crept upon her, she somehow managed a grin. It was not a happy grin.

No one would find her. No one knew where she was. Breaking the rules had lead to her untimely demise.

The bushy red tinted brunette walked merrily down the stone path that winded down the grounds of Hogwarts and lead to Hagrid's hut, dead set on retrieving her Advanced Potions textbook that she had left on the gentle man's table during a visit earlier today. No one else in the Gryffindor dorm took the class, and in total only ten students in the whole school took the rigorous class. Being the 'insufferable know-it-all', she HAD to have her book to study for the test coming up in a week.

"I'm a bloody idiot to forget something this important. It is not like I own an owl either, so I can not send it to Hagrid's hut. And Lavender and Parvati's owls are off god knows where delivering god knows what, so I could not ask them." Lavender. The girl's name rolled off her tongue odd. Hermione had decided to take it easy with her relationship with Ron and keep it friends until they graduated before anything became official, but he was so desperate that only a few days later Hermione had caught the two snogging in the halls.

It did not really hurt that bad, Hermione found out. She was not livid with jealousy. Hermione felt like the two… deserved each other, watching them snog each other until they were both purple in the face. It was funny, she had been livid before, but now she did not really… care. It kind of almost scared her how much she had changed.

Lavender wanted someone who would make her feel beautiful; someone she could dote constantly upon and kiss and hug and express her undying love to. Ron wanted someone who would make him feel like a king; someone who he could joke with, kiss madly, talk about Quidditch with, and just have fun with. While Lavender a few years ago was a little too stuck on Ron and immature to love, the older Lavender had matured. She was less clingy, and more considerate. She was just the girl Ron liked. And she knew what she wanted, whereas Hermione was uncertain- she wanted Ron, and only Ron.

Hermione accepted the couple. They had not made it 'official' yet, but it was probably because Ron did not want to upset her. But Hermione was no longer the temperamental little girl she had been. She had been changed by war. Scars littered her back, arms, and legs. They could easily have been removed with a glamour or potion, but she decided to keep them so every time she saw them she remembered the sacrifices made. She no longer cried. She no longer moped. Everything up until now, she realized she had taken for granted.

Hermione had snuck out of school easily, aided by the Marauder's Map that she held onto for Ron and Harry. A few professors, like the nearly fully recovered Snape would stalk the halls, but otherwise no other ways of monitoring the students were present. Hermione was the craftiest of the golden trio after all, employing her knowledge wherever needed, and after the war had become more bold and a little impulsive even. It would seem like her and the Marauder's Map combined would mean her success in sneaking from her room and back was almost fully expected.

Besides, she was only sneaking off to get her textbook. What was the harm in being a diligent student?

It would have been nice for Hermione to have Harry's invisibility cloak, but that was wishful thinking at best- he had stored it in Gringotts in order to preserve it for his future son. The son, most likely, to be mothered by Ginny Weasley. The youngest Weasley and only daughter had seemingly come from no where and caught the heart of the Boy-Who-Lived. They would always be seen hand and hand, Ginny giving affection to the shy Harry. She was experienced with boys and more comfortable; Harry was just happy to be with someone who loved him.

So Hermione had been on her merry way down the beat up rocky trail that lead to Hagrid's hut. Her feet, clad in black flats, kicked up rocks and the only sound around was her footsteps. She looked around, feeling as though it was almost a bit too quiet, however. There usually were owls about, mostly wild but some pets let out to enjoy the night before returning to their masters in the morning to sleep, that chattered and swooped about.

The silence was unnerving, and made her more keen to her surroundings. While this often would have been her downfall, helping her succumb to her paranoia, this night was a night different than any other.

There, in the woods, she had noticed something. It was black, but a different black than the surroundings. While the black around the shape hinted the color of either brown or green- the trees, this shape was simply black. And shaped like the silhouette of a human.

Hermione's breath hitched, and she froze where she stood. Her eyes blinked twice, a cold sweat forming as she made sure her imagination was not fooling with her as it did many times before. As she focused her sights upon the possible mere product of her imagination and paranoia, it moved about. Coming closer.

It seemed as though it did not notice her. At first, at least. However, as it got dangerously close- only ten yards away at most, it stopped. It was no longer an it, however. Hermione's eyes picked up on the shadowed pale face, partially obscured by the black hood upon his long black robe. HIS jaw was square, framed with dark stubble, and his complexion struck heavily against his attire, a pale and pure white. Those lips he possessed were a neutral shade of peach, and pursed. At least they were, until the sides curved into a wicked grin directed towards Hermione herself.

His mouth moved. Hermione faintly heard the words, in a cruel voice that made her feel as though the temperature dropped. "Incendio."

Bright flames of orange and yellow burst forward, and she was aware of a great increase of temperature. Hermione gritted her teeth, casting off a spell of her own to quench the angry flames. "Aguamenti!"

A great amount of water blasted out of the tip of Hermione's wand, overcoming the harsh flames and dousing her unprepared attacker. He wasted none of his time to set up a shield with his magic to protect him from the water, and cast a hot-air charm to dry himself off. Hermione opted for a more destructive spell to destroy his shield. "Confringo!"

The shield stood no chance for the blasting curse, and it was destroyed on the spot, flames lingering in its spot for a few moments. The man sent out a hex of his own, non verbally, and Hermione blocked it quickly, not wishing to find out first what spell it was. It looked to be an unforgivable curse, and as she had trouble blocking it, the spell was more than likely one,

'Oh Merlin! This is dangerous. Is he a remaining death eater? I thought the ministry had caught them all… or at least most of them. Bloody hell, this man means business. He wants to bloody murder me!' Hermione's legs started to shake, before her courage swelled up in her chest. She might have had the brains of a Ravenclaw, the cunning of a Slytherin, and the work ethic and friendliness that any Hufflepuff had, but what really stood out was her unbending courage. It easily willed away the insecurities she might have. The shaking in her legs ceased.

The man had stopped his spells, and seemed to be wondering why she was standing there. In doing so, it became obvious he seemed confident, that he could easily dispose of her. She duly noted this, so she would no underestimate him at any moment.

And then, Hermione took in her position. She was in the open, an easy sitting duck. That had to change.

There was a sizable boulder to her left, and if she ran full speed, she could reach it and use it as a cover. It seemed like a plan. One second, she stood there dumbly, the next she dashed madly, rolling behind it to dodge a hex that nearly hit her square in the chest. Once there, she crouched and sent a few spells his way.

The difference in their intentions, however, was becoming glaringly obvious.

Hermione was fighting a defensive war. He was trying to harm her, make her suffer. Hermione had inhibitions and no killing intent. He was tossing dangerous spell after spell, many not very pleasant at all. In fact, Hermione was sure he had at one point tossed a Crucio or two, but had not heard him clear enough to tell for sure.

Needless to say, Hermione was starting to lose. He advanced upon her position slowly, and she kept shooting spells to slow his pace down. But it was evident they were on two different skill levels. He came so close upon her position, and she dashed from behind the boulder, knowing her place was no longer safe nor wise to stay at.

Hermione expected to make it to the woods, hoping to use the element of surprise to allow her to escape. Wishful thinking, but not realistic.

A smirk crossed his features as he promptly thought of just the spell to use.

He cast a sectum sepra with the flick of a wrist, and invisible blades began to slice at her. They focused around her torso, but also licked at her arms, a light slice to her throat, and one gash across her cheek. 'Bloody hell, oh merlin, great gods!' Hermione thought incoherently, gritting her teeth and moaning in the pain that spread like a wildfire. She forced herself to remain standing strong like a pole, and was battered by slice after slice, body swaying slightly.

While this would have been a good chance for the male to finish her off, his obscene confidence once again shone through. He merely watched her resist the urge to writhe like an unearthed worm, his grin becoming toothy. He was a vicious cat, playing with her until she grew boring, and when the mouse outlived her entertainment factor he would sweep down upon her and deliver the killing blow.

Such was the entitlement of any predator.

"Vulnera Sanentur." Hermione croaked, and she felt the blood clot on her wounds and bleeding stop, as a soft song seemed to flow out from her wand. She would have cast it again to further heal the wounds, but it took a lot of time to use the spell to heal, and she noticed her attacker readying himself. Instead, she cast a different spell to numb the pain of the wounds, and did what came first in her head.

She ran backwards towards the woods, watching the black clothed assailant. 'I will not let him catch me off guard again… that was a bad idea.' He shot a spell her way, but she was prepared.

"Protego!" The spell he had sent bounced off the shielding charm, hitting the ground. He sent a volley of spells at her, and she used the spell again and again to reflect them away. She never stopped her backpedaling, and soon found herself almost hitting a tree. 'I have more cover now… but nowhere to run or hide. I can only hope I stumble upon something. I hope.'

She ducked into said cover behind a thick tree trunk of an older tree, before casting a stronger shield that covered herself. "Protego Totalum!"

A protective bubble shield fell over her, ready to protect her from anything. Hermione heard a strong spell hit the tree, and then saw flames creep upon the wood, flushing her face with heat. In moments, the whole tree would be charcoal. If she were unlucky, the trunk would collapse before the whole tree burned, and it would fall upon her. No further notice was needed for Hermione to start her mad dash into the woods. Adrenaline pumped through her body.

"Maybe I can lose him. If I outrun him, and find somewhere to hide."

A spell hit her shield soundly, and she glanced over her shoulder. The damn crazy potential death eater was starting to chase after her. She somehow, despite her growing need for air as she ran, managed to sigh. "Again, with the wishful thinking!"

"ITS NOT THAT EASY!" The sick thrill within the voice of the man currently pursuing her almost made Hermione freeze in place like a raindrop in absolute zero. Shivers rolled down her back like thunderous waves, and the hairs on the back of her neck were suddenly standing needles. 'He is completely mental! A loon!'

Needless to say, her running sped up.

She could hear hex after hex wizz by- and she felt a few hit the shield solidly. Panic began to rise in her mind. "I am SO screwed. SO SCREWED!" Hermione said to herself, messily jumping over a rock in her way. She zigzagged between trees- thankful that this was a normal forest, not the forbidden one. To her knowledge, the only thing she needed to worry about was the crazy bastard behind her. No giant spiders, no centaurs, no magical creatures with an acquired taste for human blood.

It was only a matter of time before Hermione came upon a clearing in the forest. She had no where to zig zag behind or between, but she tried it anyways. A strong hex was launched, shattering her shield, and she fell due to the brute force, landing oddly on her ankle.

The man, feeling like the fun was coming to an end, licked his wand sinisterly as he caught up with the fallen witch. He decided to end it there and then.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione never had moved so quickly before in her life.

"AH!" Hermione shouted as she rolled out of the way of the killing curse, pupils dilating, heart pounding. Her face flushed even redder than it had been before.

'DID HE JUST CAST THAT!' She thought to herself with wide eyes and a wide mouth, squeaking softly. Panic settled in quickly as it was a common guest, and she cast an extra strong Protego Totalum, feeling her magic dwindle away. She used the shield as a buffer so she could get herself out of her vulnerable position. As Hermione staggered up from the ground, ankle twisted at an odd angle, the strange man had caught up and faced her. His hood had been pulled back. Short, trimmed curly locks of ebony framed his ivory face. His eyes were a sickening green, the color of foul stagnant water.

And his expression. He was bloody happy, no giddy. In a sickening, perverted sense. The sadist was more than happy to have cornered his prey. Those eyes of his glanced at her foot and then back at her, and they burned the sense of hopelessness into her.

And then, he went to break her last defense.

"Crucio!" He shouted, his voice deep and commanding. Hermione desperately moved to dodge it and save her shield, but her ankle screamed in pain and the spell clipped the shield, shattering it. The magic shield shattered and its bits dissolved into nothing, leaving her defenseless and weak. Her magic was almost completely drained as well. She had dueled early in school, and while it had not taken much of a toll at the time, it was now evident that her magic was sapped away.

His features became even more snaky, grin spreading, as he realized his victory was so blatant and easy to fullfill. With the unmerciful eyes of a predator, he pointed his wand at her and taunted her to draw her own.

'I know no deadly or extremely strong spells…but if I exert more magic than usual, maybe I can create an extra strong stupefy…' Hermione thought. Wishfully. Perhaps, for once, this wish would come true.

Hermione drew her wand and shouted, in sync with her attacker.

It was funny how things worked themselves out.

Hermione was in a fog, laying down, crumpled on the forest floor. Her thoughts? Almost non existent, like the odds of her getting out of this alive. Had she known her fate, Hermione would not have broken the rules. That much was obvious. Instead, she would have went to sleep like a good Gryffindor and retrieved her book in the morning. But there was no time turner around her neck to change that.

Impulsive decisions seemed to be her reckoning.

So she lay there, eyes beginning to fog like a window on a cold winter morning. Her heart was slowing down, and color drained from her face. Her lung had given out thirty seconds ago, and she was living on borrowed time, as her body began to crave sweet oxygen. The night sky shone above her, a dark gray speckled with tiny little lights.

'mmmmm so nice so prettyyyyy' she drawled within her thoughts, slowly succumbing. It was hard to think straight, or hard, but basic things came out easily. It was like learning to bike. Once you got accustomed to it, you slipped into it and forgot how hard it had been. In this case, Hermione was forgetting that she was dying, and accepting it.

Ignorance in this case was bliss.

But that acceptance did not last, for something stirred within her, awoke from its long slumber. It was something strange that she never knew was in her, something ever so dark and mysterious that had been asleep before. It pushed at her, urging her not to succumb. It was strong, she felt, and It was her. But at the same time, It was not her. At least, not yet. She accepted It with wide arms. It crept upon her, clearing her mind and allowing her to think clearly.

Hermione's emotions began to swell up, and her courage seemed to burst out angrily.

'AM I JUST GOING TO BLOODY GIVE UP!' Hermione thought with indignation. And that thought changed everything.

She willed herself, and pushed for it, and tried her best. She strained, and strained. And then, the sound of air rushing down her wind pipes filled her ears, and sweet air her lungs. It was a beautiful sound. The sweet, soothing, pleasant, god sent sound that meant she was going to live.

With that breath, life seemed to return to her. Hermione's mind cast off the residual fog that had been driven to the corners of her mind. Her fingers and toes began to tingle, as they awoke from their sleep. To her delight, she could wiggle them. Color rushed back to her face, and she went from sheet white one moment to soft peach and then to a flushed dark pink. Her eyes became their deep chocolate color once again.

Euphoria rushed her senses as everything became clear, her head buzzing. She found her hand easily curling into a fist. But the residual ache of her deep gashes from the sectum sepra w starting to come back, the spell she cast to relieve the pain failing. Her ankle also started to protest, and she was almost certain it was either sprained or worse. The strange angle it sat at was… concerning.

Hermione tried to get up, and found she was able to pull her upper body up. Her heart fluttered in joy, and her body cried out softly in pain. She supported herself with slightly shaking hands that lay on the ground and splayed hands.

"Bloody 'ell," She murmured softly, blinking rapidly and taking deep breaths to calm herself, "he must have cast it incorrectly. Yeah, must be it. He must have done something wrong. That is the only thing I can think of."

With a push of will and the strain of her muscles, Hermione slowly got up, body creaky and tired.

She swallowed down any other doubts about the unforgivable curse, pushing them away. It was bothering her how much stamina he had left and how un-pressured he had been to cast the curse. Any experienced Death Eater could cast Avada Kedavra easily while under the stress and pressure of battle, and this man had her right in front of her!

It was just easier to dismiss it as a mistake.

'This is just great! Bloody git nearly took my life. McGonagall will turn this bastard in to the ministry and then he can rot in Azkaban where complete arses like him belong!' Hermione thought, wincing in pain as she straine herself getting worked up. She glanced towards the man with her brown eyes, reaffirming that he was in deed stiffly laying down due to her curse. He was completely frozen, save for his sickening eyes which were completely movable and currently fixed upon her. Emotions freely swirled about them, mucking in their sick color. Whether it was in surprise or anger, she was not sure. Maybe both. Hermione broke her gaze from him, thinking about how close he was to killing her.

"…you cast a horrid killing curse. You must be inexperienced…" Hermione spoke, facing away from him, eyes glancing down at her shoes. She tried her best to level her voice and make it sound like she was composed, not worried and in disbelief that she managed to come out alive.

Her shoes were slightly scuffed and had collected dirt and mud, as well as a few leaves. But she almost could not break her gaze from them. Something about looking away from the man, and trying her best to forget the pain she had just gone through, had enticed her fully and so her gaze was fixated upon those shoes. She could have gone on for hours.

The slash wounds that marred her flesh and clothing. Her gashes from sectum sepra were starting to weep, and if she left them unhealed they might get infected and kill her. One of the luckily shallow cuts, which she felt through the rip of the once white cloth of her white shirt, was right above her heart.

"First, signal for help, then lightly heal the wounds. I'm not too great with healing magic," Hermione spoke softly to herself, wondering absentmindedly if her shoes were a dark brown or a black.

She figured they were dark brown. Now, she had to focus on what was going on around her.

Forcing herself to look up, Hermione pointed her wand above her head to cast a signal flare. "Periculum." She rasped.

Nothing happened.

"Periculum!" She called out again, growing impatient.

Not even the smallest spark emitted from her wand. Nothing.

Hermione sighed, and looked for a small object so she could check her wand out. A small rock the size of her fist worked fine. "Wingardium Leviosa." She swish and flicked elegantly, performing the spell she had mastered within two minutes of learning on her first day of Hogwarts. The rock remained perfectly still.

Just freaking perfect. Hermione brought her palm to her forehead, sighing angrily.

She had either busted her wand, or over exerted her magic. Either way, there was a long trail leading back to the castle that she HAD to limp back up with her twisted right ankle. Otherwise, she was stuck here until the man naturally eased out of her curse or she died from the internal bleeding that she was sure was starting to occur. A soft trickle of blood rolled down her belly.

She froze, realizing the wounds were re-opening.

"Blast! My healing spell was shoddy. Stupid, I knew I should have tried harder to master healing spells, even if Ron and Harry are more than capable of casting the bloody spells instead of me! I should have paid more attention to them, rather than shield and offensive charms! I'm a bloody idiot." Her hand drew back and then once again hit her forehead, this time repeatedly, as she vented her frustration.

The wounds on her upper arm screamed. Hermione instantly returned the arm to her side, expression becoming serious. She glanced up at the walk she had to make and inwardly groaned, before forcing her body to move.

'The residual ache is only a hint of what is to come by the time I make it,' She thought, 'I am sure by the time I get up there I will be half dead.'

As if to prove her right, the deep wound on her side cried out as she stepped with her left leg, and wept tears of red that dribbled down her flesh.

Ok. This gets much more... out there.

I have no actual idea for any pairings. My SSHG fangirls wants to add it, but I really know my characterization of Snape would be horribly off.

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