This is just a one-shot that struck me after listening to Guns N' Roses' Civil War. It doesn't have much plot, its just a jumble of thoughts from one Hermione Granger. Enjoy, and R&R.
It was a civil war. That was what it was. A deadly, terrible civil war. She had pondered it many times before, and always came away with the same answer. But she always came back to ponder it some more, sitting at the window with her knees pulled up to her chin, tears running down her face.
The window had changed a lot over the three years she had been doing this. Sometime near the beginning of the fighting, it had been a grand, beautiful window which looked over a pretty, perfect village. Then the village had been attacked, and she had been able to see the charred rubble of the houses which had been knocked down. Months later, the view had been of an abandoned battlefield and she had stared out in horror at the bodies. Now the window was smeared and cracked, and the view was one of a large army preparing to leave.
So many wizards, witches... she wondered if any of them would return. People of all ages were standing out there, some she would bet had lied about their age to be allowed to go. They would certainly not return. There were children out there of fourteen years old.
She wasn't going this time. She had went with them the last time, and attained a broken arm. It prickled painfully as she looked at it briefly. She longed to go with them. She could help, she was probably the most talented witch they had. A tear rolled down her cheek.
All of her friends were out there. Dearest Harry, darling Ron, sweetheart Ginny... if anything happened to them, she would be beside herself with grief. Her heart ached just thinking about it.
Yes, all this pain, caused by a war. And it was a civil war, she knew. Wizards fighting other wizards, fighting their own kind. It was stupid, there was no need for it, none at all. The same blood ran in all of their veins.
She held out her wrist and looked at it. Did the same blood run in her veins as in, say, the Malfoys'? No, it didn't. She was Muggle-born, different to half-bloods and full-bloods. And yet, Harry's blood was different to the Malfoys' as well.
But it was still a civil war. So the magical world had its differences, but the wizards and witches were still all of the same kind. Their bloods might be different, but the same ancient gift was inside of them. Yes, that was it, that was what made it a civil war. It was just like two sides of a family fighting to the death.
The door opened behind her, and she turned her head quickly. Her haunted eyes took in the form of Harry Potter. His face was worn and exhausted, but his eyes were bright as he regarded her. He did not say anything, but crossed over to her and pulled her into a hug.
"I want to come," she said automatically. He stiffened, and released her, stepping back to examine her.
He shook his head, and she felt anger burn inside of her. She opened her mouth to say something heateadly, then quickly checked herself, turning back to the window, panting. Harry left without saying a word to her. She chewed her lip, then stood up and prepared to sneak off with the army.
Yes, it was a civil war, and it would kill her.