A/N: I am too lazy to come up with my own author's notes, so I am forcing the other half of my brain to do so.
Neither half owns any part of the Harry Potter universe, and one half doesn't even own this story
Very, very AU.
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Sometimes Hermione remembered a time when she hadn't had to hide and almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea. It had been years now, and no matter how far she went, she kept brushing against death. A week ago, she had gone home to find her landlady dead on the yellowing linoleum floor, and the forces of the law standing silently, wands out at the ready. Things hadn't stayed silent long. Luckily, she'd ducked back out of the doorway quickly, and dropped her bag of groceries in time to pull out her wand and kill them as they followed her. It was three more deaths added to the total, and it hit her once again that she had better not die, because she was going to hell. The she grabbed some money and ran, because reinforcements would come any moment.
There was a time when Hermione had balked at using the Killing Curse. There were more pleasant ways, she had thought, of dispatching an enemy. More ethical ways. After all, a curse for killing couldn't be anything but evil. If she had used Reducto or Incendio or even Wingardium Leviosa, she could pretend that she wasn't aiming to kill, that she could disable them. She killed her first ten by burning. Then she'd washed the stink off her clothes and out of her hair, and thought, to hell with this, and AK'd the next hundred or two hundred or however many it was now. She hadn't looked back, except for those first ten.
Betty, she was calling herself. Or had been, until her landlady died. She shed names like a snake. As she walked to her car, she took out an apple and took a bite from it. It was best to look inconspicuous for a while, until she got away. She thought of new names as she drove away. Hermione, she thought to herself. The wards on the car were old, and bound to fail soon. She would have to replace them or get a new car.
Hermione was no good-she'd used it before. Harriet, that was better. Or Eve. Something that she hadn't done before.
Hell, she though as she stopped suddenly for a teen crossing the road too carelessly. He had black hair and glasses. For a moment, she was reminded a little of Harry, who had died when she was fifteen and he was fourteen, and Dumbledore's protection had finally failed. It was the first death she'd ever seen and though now all she could think was, casualty of war, it had been upsetting at the time. She'd been tempted over the years to count it as her first kill-it was her fault, after all, all her fault-but always opted not to. The Death Eater that had done it though, he was one of the first for sure. Incendio to the head, and it had stunk to high heaven. Harry's death hadn't hurt so much then. Or so she told herself.
She still wondered, sometimes, what had happened to Ron. Probably he was dead. He'd been a blood traitor, after all, and had been Harry's friend. There was a chance he was alive, but she wouldn't bet on it. Hermione did not bet often. True love died, and friendships were even less resilient. Everything went to hell in the end.
The next Death Eater was not as lucky as the teen. Hermione saw him wander into the road and hit the accelerator.
She would have to get another car now. Nothing ruined them like smashing into people. She'd learned that lesson a while ago. She hated stealing cars, though. It left one hell of a paper trail, because they had to get left behind, and the police found them. She left a lot of things behind. Dead bodies, cars, apple cores. Her cat-she hoped he'd gotten away. But she was alive even if Harry and Ronald, and Tony-dear-Tony-to-death-do-us-part were gone-
She ditched the car once she got to the city and cast Imperius on a middle aged man and his family. They had a new houseguest, she told them. Her name was Jane, and they would not mention her to anyone.
She bit into another apple and wondered if it was bad that she no longer felt guilty when she should feel guilty as hell.
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A/N: Well, then. I hope that that didn't creep you out as badly as it did me. Once again, I have no idea where the stories come from. I don't know who Tony is either.
-R&d