Written for #SSC. Join us on facebook: Hogwarts - Great Hall
Prompt: This Is War - 30 Seconds to Mars
Hermione desperately clutched to her wand, her body shaking in fatigue. She let herself fall to the ground, behind one of the many broken walls of her dear Hogwarts, her only defense against the storm of spells raging in and around the castle. She closed her eyes and breathed, the choking smell of blood and smoke in her nostrils. She moaned, complaining, protesting, but Merlin, she needed air.
In her mind's eye she pictured herself, Harry, and Ron finally having a quiet year at Hogwarts, their housemates singing songs and fooling around in the common room, everyone smiling again—until she was finally breathing evenly. She was picturing herself reuniting with her parents when something hit her foot. A soft gasp escaped her lips—a gasp that slowly turned into sobs. It was the hand of a student who laid dead across her. Which house? She couldn't tell. His house patch had been partly burned and too dirty to tell, smeared in mud and blood.
"Mud and blood," she whispered sardonically as she lifted herself up. She dried her tears and ran straight back to the battle.
When Voldemort fell, she watched his body closely as it crumpled and cooled on the ground. "Gone. He's finally gone," she told herself, her wand still held tight in her hand. She prayed for the first time in a long, long time. She prayed for the battles to come, the battles they'd have to fight to keep a semblance of peace. She prayed they'd never come, but she was too pragmatic to be naive.
Everyone, able-bodied, searched the grounds for bodies of the fallen, both friend and enemy. She went to pick up the boy she left by the wall earlier. His body was cold, but she squeezed his hand and told him it was over, that they've won, and how badly she wished he was there.
"You paid for this," she told him, "This is just unfair."
Later, she found out he was a Slytherin. A fifth year. A pure-blood. He was planning to join their house's quidditch team next year. He fell fighting a death eater. He fought protecting his younger brother.
"He didn't want to fight," his brother said, "but in my being stubborn, I didn't give him a choice, and I… I killed him." She hugged him, letting him cry his heart out, told him that he didn't kill him, that the death eaters did, that Godric would've been proud.
"He fought bravely until the end and so should you. Be brave; this isn't the end," she said, squeezing his hand. He nodded through his tears, reminded of what he was and what was to come. They'd won, but he had to be bold to live in the new world his brother died for.