What can I say? Inspiration.
Harry/Hermione
Disclaimer: And Lo, the Gods of Fanfiction speaketh thus: "It's fanfiction, you fools! By definition, nobody except the published author owns any part of this!"
He had never been betrayed before.
(He could feel the dagger in his heart.)
He'd been lied to. Deceived. Led around like a dog on a leash. But never betrayed.
You have to trust for that.
(The most painful and freeing thing he'd ever felt.)
She'd been his best friend since the moment she'd first stepped into his compartment on the train.
(It was almost a shame it wasn't a real one.)
They'd stood side by side against their detractors. Sometimes, against the whole school.
Throughout it all, her resolve never wavered. Never cracked.
(She was already broken.)
Dumbledore had said the Dark Lord had an agent in the school. So he'd used the map to spy on them.
He knew it was Malfoy, of course. Who else could it be?
He wished he'd asked.
He was glad he didn't.
(He was broken as well.)
As the black cloaks filled the hallway, all she'd said was,
"I'm sorry it had to be you."
She stood in front of the door to the Room of Requirement, sad but determined.
She didn't apologize. She didn't regret what she'd done.
She had her reasons.
(But she had no excuse.)
He ran.
He'd been in enough deadly situations to know that you did not need to think to move.
He doubted she'd ever be able to do the same. He doubted...
He doubted.
(Was she ever the person he thought he knew?)
His feet carried him where he needed to go, running on instinct and subconscious memory.
His brain was useless, his heart was about to burst.
He couldn't think. He didn't want to think.
(It didn't matter. He'd always thought too much, anyway.)
The walls were wet and slimy before his brain started working again. Pondering the path his feet had already set him on.
The Plan. The Weapon.
(Death was coming for her.)
A silvery shape shot out of his wand. A magnificent stag stood in front of him. A messenger, awaiting its message.
(Kin would strike kin.)
"Lock the doors to the Great Hall. No one is to leave the feast. The pipes are being cleaned."
(Snake would strike Snake.)
The silver animal shot up through the roof of the filthy pipe he stood in.
(Irony was always his favorite type of humor.)
Torches flared to life as he stood in front of the narcissism of wizards. One wizard in particular, really.
::Speak to me.::
(Why had he not killed it?)
Poisonous green scales gleamed in the torchlight. A powerful body uncoiled from the stone mouth.
::I Speak. I Serve.::
(The temptation was too great.)
He placed his hands on the snout of the Tyrant Snake. He looked it in the eye.
Ever since he found out that Parselmouths were immune to its killing gaze, he'd come back again and again, to sate his need.
His need to stare into the face of Death, as he'd done so often.
(The sheer power of it made him giddy.)
Unbidden memories flashed before his mind's eye.
"There are strange likenesses between us..."
(To hold her life in the palm of his hand.)
"Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"
(He began to see how power could corrupt.)
He forced himself back to the present. He forced himself to say what he had to say.
(How it could corrupt her.)
What she forced him to say.
(He stood at the top of a mountain.)
::Enemies of the School walk Its halls. They wear black, and reek of Dark Magic.::
(To wield that power, to start the rockslide.)
The Monster responded eagerly.
::What would you have me do, Master?::
(All he had to do)
::Kill them.::
(was kick a pebble.)
AN: I've got a number of ideas that I will never have the time to flesh out, so into the obligatory plot bunny fic they go.
Of course, it will also feature drabbles like this one for when I get all dramatic and emo, like now. What can I say? Badass dramatic moments are a guilty pleasure of mine.
The sentences in parentheses were bolded to make it easier to distinguish. Otherwise it might be difficult to keep the two... POV? Lines? The two lines seperate.
As for why she betrayed him, well... who can say? :)
