Introduction: Hermione risks her life to save Harry and Ron during the final battle against Voldemort, but is grievously hurt. As life slips away from her, she reveals what she has felt awkward to say all these years.

Things you should know: This is set in their seventh and final year. All of them are seventeen. That is why Harry and the others will be able to fight this well. And if it seems overdone, remember, the battle isn't the most important thing. This is my first HP drama story, heck, it's my first drama altogether, so please don't flame me!

Plans for the future: This fic will probably be two or three chapters. No more than that. Though the chapters are probably going to be a bit longer than my other stories.

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Losing Hermione

By Phire Phoenix

Chapter One

For Whom The Spells Toll

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Hermione screamed out in pain as the curse hit her. Collapsing on the ground, she clutched her chest in a feeble attempt to stop the hurting. For the first time, she truly understood why the Cruciatus was Unforgivable. It left the victim crippled, scarred and traumatized for life. Moody, or rather, Crouch, had been wrong. The Imperius and the Cruciatus curses were a lot worse than Avada Kedavra could ever be. As the thousands of invisible knives continued to plunge into her body, she said a prayer, what she believed to be her last. "Oh God." She thought desperately, trying not to give the Death Eater hanging over her, cackling, the satisfactions of hearing her scream again. "Let me at least say goodbye to my friends. Please."

Miraculously, it stopped. The pain, the stabbing, the whipping, it was all gone. She sat up, gasping for breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry hit the Death Eater who had placed the curse on her repeatedly. Though the Minion tried to defend himself, Harry had grown into a full- fledged and powerful wizard. Soon, he was lying at his feet. Hermione almost smiled, but Ron's cry of anguish brought her attention to the battle that was raging to her left. Harry sprang away, as Voldemort advanced on Professor McGonagall.

She focused her attention on Ron, who was trying to defend and attack at the same time. Around them, the Hogwarts teachers and various magical creatures, including unicorns, giants, some werewolves and a small group of centaurs were battling alongside the three friends against the Dark Lord and his gigantic group of Death Eaters. Despite their efforts since their fourth year, Voldemort managed to assemble Dark Wizards from all around the world. As if the Death Eaters weren't enough, harder still to beat were the Dementors. Five or six snarling werewolves have surrounded two of them. Thank goodness it was full moon when Voldemort decided to launch his attach.

With horror, Hermione recognized Lupin, who had a very grave looking cut on his shoulder and another across his muzzle. Sirius leapt over some fallen Death Eaters, transforming in mid-air, and joined his injured friend, barking instructions to the other werewolves.

Ron cried again, more urgent this time, and Hermione, with a jolt of terror, that Dumbledore, who had been fighting with him, seemed to be in pain. He was kneeling on the ground, struggling to raise his wand, his beard dotted with bloodstains. Lucius Malfoy was advancing on him, with a smirk of triumph on his face. Hermione pulled herself together and hurried towards them, as fast as her wobbly legs would carry her.

"Stupefy!!!" She yelled, the spell hitting Malfoy on the chest. He staggered, appearing barely affected, a look of fury replacing the smirk. "Foolish girl!" He snapped, and turned to her instead. The smirk returned. There was killing to be done. It didn't really matter whom. Hermione darted out of reach, hoping to lead him away from Dumbledore.

"Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!" She shouted, but these spells barely grazed him. Instead of stopping him, they simply left a small cut, wherever they hit. Hermione panicked. He must have built up immunity to these spells. The smirk on his pale face, even whiter in the moonlight, widened. He raised his wand, and prepared to say the deadly words. "Avada Ked-"

A figure jumped across, knocking him to the floor. The person halted, panting and looking at the Death Eater sprawled on the grass. Then it turned to her, making her yelp. It was Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Lucius yelled, but Draco held up a hand to silence him. "She's mine." The boy whispered. All hopes of him turning good, all hopes of him being on their side were dashed inside Hermione's mind as he, too, walked towards her with his wand outstretched. Hermione raised her own wand, about to shout a curse, when -

Suddenly, Draco turned, catching his father, who'd been observing the scene with amusement, completely off guard. "Finite Incantatem!" and then "Stupefy!" He watched coolly as the limp form of his father slumped forward, unconscious. "You didn't think I would break the Imperius curse, did you?" He asked the motionless form of his father coldly. "And do get well soon." He added with mock concern. "So you can spend a lifetime in Azkaban!" He spared Hermione a soft, whispered apology before jumping off to the next battle, cackling. Hermione attempted a feeble retort concerning the credibility of the Azkaban guards after this battle, but thought better of it.

She glanced around again. It seemed a close wager. A giant was down, and a werewolf (not Lupin, she noted with relief) was badly injured, but quite a few Death Eaters were out for the count as well. More help from the Ministry had arrived. Ten of them positioned themselves close to the remaining giants. At the signal of Arthur Weasley, the new minister, these magicians began chanting the Patronus spell. Hermione remembered, as she always did, Flitwick telling them last year about the powers of combined spells. The more wizards, the higher the strength. Some Dementors were already faling back.

A sudden movement to her right caught her eye, and she whipped around just in time to deflect the curse shot at her by Wormtail. The once pathetic wreck of a wizard was now malevolent and rather confident of himself, but he didn't seem to have acquired much power through even Voldemort's teaching. Hermione raised her wand, but another distressed cry from Ron jerked her away from the traitor who resided with them for three years. Wormtail made to follow, but Sirius cut through, transforming in mid0air and keeling Wormtail over. A second later, the godfather was towering over the unworthy member of the Marauders, a satisfied sneer on his face.

Hermione hurried to Ron's side, calling at Harry. Voldemort was temporarily distracted as Lupin tore away from his fellows and snapped at him, dancing about agilely.

Harry whistled. A small group of young centaurs darted out of the forest, led by Harry's friend, Firenze. The latter had told Bane he would not interfere unless absolutely necessary: and now that Dumbledore had been hurt; the time had come. They galloped around the Death Eaters, carrying their bows and arrows. From deeper within the forest, Bane looked on with apparent indifference.

Firenze swirled around in mid-gallop and broke away from the circle of centaurs, who were shooting arrows at the confused Dark Wizards. He leapt over a pile of heap of unconscious Death Eaters and landed next to Ron. Dobby was already wringing his hands, doing all he could, which wasn't much. But the house-elf was able to gently lift Dumbledore up and hand him to Firenze. He cantered to the castle, using the little magic he had to protect himself.

Of new hope, Ron stood up straighter and started sending curses and blockers, fighting side by side with Harry. Hermione moved to help Draco, a deed that would not have crossed her mind mere minutes ago The ministry allowed only Death Eaters, such as Wormtal and Malfoy, and the Dark Lord himself to be killed, and that only in extreme cases. Arthur Weasley had taken much after Dumbledore, if not in power, then in moral, to no protest at all. Fudge had slipped into a trance when his parents, his children and his wife were killed a year ago. He was now in a state of delusion, not being able to tell the past from the future.

Draco was fighting splendidly, pushing down his urge to kill. Even with Dumbledore gone, they were wonderfully organized. The centaurs, the enforcements from the Ministry, and the cloudless night, which gave the werewolves a free reign, filled their hearts with joy. The battle seemed to be turning, and for the better.

As yet two other Death Eaters fell they started to relax. Malfoy had a laid- back smirk of triumph on his face, and was taunting his opponents instead of seizing every chance he had. Voldemort seemed exhausted, after warding off Lupin, who had proved to be very adept at dodging curses in his wolf form, and the few curses that the Dark Lord did send their way were very easy to evade. Although the remaining Death Eaters and Dementors were putting up a rigorous fight, there were more Dark Wizards down than there were on Harry's side.

That's when they struck.

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I hope you enjoyed that. That is one of the better stories I've written, although you're more than welcome to check out some of my other ones. In the meantime, I'm open to any suggestions, however cynical and any criticism, however aggravating, as long as they are constructive. I don't think I need to tell you that a flame is purely to build up the flamer's ego, as they think that they can destroy my confidence with one simple review. And I would also like to mention that I don't appreciate flames, although that is self-explanatory.

Thank you for taking your time to read Losing Hermione, Chapter One. Check back in a couple of days, maybe a week, for Chapter Two: On The Segregation of the Queen.

PS: For all of you who have read Laurie King's book, the Beekeeper's Apprentice, this is a disclaimer on the title. But it seemed like the most appropriate title for Chapter Two. In any case, I don't own On the Segregation Of The Queen, aka, the Beekeeper's Apprentice.