Hey there! I'm Miso, and this is my first work, so bear with me! I've always seemed to have a knack for writing, and so I thought, why the hell not? Anyway, enough about me-you're here for the story. This takes place after the battle at Hogwarts, post-voldemort. However, Dumbledore is still alive. A new threat has arisen from the ashes, a threat that has been there this whole time. The unholy offspring of fear and a frantic need to survive, a need for predictability. This is the worst case scenario. This is the end.
He sat alone in the library. There were only two people that would ever find him here, one of which was already on his way. The other...No. He daren't think about, it was too horrible. Even more horrible, it was all he could think about. A cold finger traced his steps on the Marauder's Map, shivering in the wind. He was growing closer, and Harry figured he had about a minute before he was no longer alone. Green eyes cut through the orange glow of the sunset. He swung his legs around the ledge, feet dangling into the abyss. A lean figure strode purposefully toward him, a shock of platinum blonde hair almost glowing in the dark. "Draco." Harry whispered, his voice light and melodic, yet raspy with cold. The figure stepped up onto the ledge and sat himself mere millimetres away from Harry in one fluid movement. "Harry." The two sat there, staring at the sun for what felt like ages to Draco. They were nice ages, though. A perfectly good way to spend one's time, however lacking in productivity. Harry sighed and rested his head on Draco's shoulder. A single tear left the corner of Draco's eye and trailed down his gaunt face unhindered. They were alone here, they were safe.
And that was exactly the problem. A small whimper left Harry's lips as he his whole body shuddered with sobs. Never had either of them been this broken. Never had either of them felt such loss, such detachment. It was all they could do not to fall into the void, the blackness that threatened to swallow them, and the world with it. At least if they did, they were together. It was the only constant in their lives, the only thing that remained strong, unhindered through the changes that shook their worlds. They were protected by a wall of hate, around a molten core of pure anger so violent, it nearly cracked those walls to burst through. A fiery hot rage burned in the absence of someone who had held them both together, someone who filled their many cracks with her love and intrigue. She was gone, and so was their restraint. They were going to fall apart or explode; either way, they'd be destroyed in the process.
8 Hours Earlier
"RON!" Hermione's lithe body glittered in the red light as blood splattered the sky. She casted a spell and caught Ronald's body with a net of glowing purple light. He grinned stupidly, and she rolled her chocolate eyes. Rebounding off the net, Ron's body was thrown upward, and he shouted something obscure as he neatly tied up their assailants with their own neckties. He felt pretty badass about it, especially the entirely unnecessary battle cry and flight time.
Hermione waved her wand along the length of her torso, and the tattered evening gown she'd been fighting in was replaced by a fresh pair of jeans, red striped boat-neck and grey hoodie. She frowned at the stripes and with a swish of her trusted magical instrument, the stripes turned to a deep indigo. She'd had enough red for the day. Leather combat boots kicked aside four machine guns, and she picked up a fifth. Ron shot her a worried look, and she reassured him by tossing it aside with a disgusted look. "I've got these four. Go and assist Draco and Harry; they should be back by now." Ron thundered down the stairs to find the couple in the kitchen, against a wall with knives at their throats. A priest paced before them, but not for long, as Ron delightfully knocked him out with a meat tenderizer. Harry and Draco took this opportunity fight off their captors and Ron flipped the knives against the enemy, just to tenderise them with as much enthusiasm as he did the priest. Draco fetched the stolen wands while Harry wondered at how disgustingly peaceful the robed man looked.
A head of disheveled brown hair dropped as he bent over to pick up the bible. He had the feeling it would later offer a bit more than prayer. The three ran back up to meet Hermione. She had her wand pointed at the four men and women tied up on the balcony. One of the women chuckled, patronisingly. "Foolish girl, have you any idea what's to come?" Hermione truly didn't, but she was annoyed by this person's brazen attitude while in such a perilous situation. It also meant trouble. Whoever they were and whatever they wanted, there had to be more of them. After all, this woman had to have a purpose for gambling with her life so dangerously. She was not alone, and she knew it. Was is that, or was she that full of confidence she'd get away? How? What did the woman have up her sleeve? Hermione pondered the idea of hitting her with a few hexes when her three young companions emerged from the doorway.
"We took care of the others."said Draco. Hermione nodded, and lowered her wand.
Suddenly, Draco's eyes widened. The restrained woman began laughing maniacally, and Hermione was afraid her suspicions had been confirmed. "HERMIONE, RUN!" Ron raised his wand, but he was too late. A single shot was fired, Hermione's eyes fluttered. I should have known…Her wand fell with a clatter heard around the world as blood rushed through Harry's ears. He ran to catch her as she fell in his arms. He couldn't believe it, no. She wasn't gone. She couldn't be gone. It simply wasn't possible. There was nothing without Hermione. She was not his love, but she was his life. She was his light. A horrible, guttural scream came from Ron as he stumbled towards her. He screamed of pain, of loss, of how much of him was gone.
Gone, forever. What was he now? What would he be? Would he be at all? Cries of anguish came from the very depths of Ron's soul, screaming out until his voice was shot, rasping with all his might after. Harry just stared at her body, limp in his arms. "Hermione? Hermione? Come back!" He muttered frantically. She was dead...she couldn't be...how? What monster could have done this? Draco kept his distance; Ron and Harry were closest to her. Hermione never really trusted him. After the war, Draco and Harry began to bond. Enemies turned acquaintances, acquaintances to friends, and friends blossomed into something more. Blossoming like the blood around Hermione's head, like a crown of death. Ruby red, bleeding out to infect the world with evil. They were tight friends, although not like Harry and Ron.
Hermione never completely trusted Draco, even to the day she...died. She died. He couldn't believe she was dead. No, he could. He'd seen ugly things, ugly, obscene things, enough to drive a man mad. And he probably was at this point, or at least, he would be.
He strode carefully toward her body, and that's where he lost it. Harry and Ron crumpled, Draco all but exploded. With a scream, he obliterated everything around them. A storm brewed, and Draco didn't need his wand any longer.
He searched wildly for her killer. A man was on the roof of the building across the street, on the phone with someone. Draco tore Harry's invisibility cloak out of his bag and sped toward the skyscraper on his broom. Angrily, he screamed at the sniper. The man grinned at him. "CRUCIO!" Draco boomed, with all the strength he had left.
Watching the shooter writhe on the concrete, a flame burned in his eyes and made its home in his heart.
Eventually, it would be known as the "Flame that Killed God."