WHY HELLO, THERE! SO, I FOUND THIS ONE LURKING IN THE RECESSES OF MY OLD COMPUTER AND WANTED TO PUBLISH IT. I FEEL LIKE IT NEEDS A LITTLE WORK, THOUGH, IT'S NOT QUITE AS SMOOTH AS I'D LIKE. SO IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS, I'D MUCH APPRECIATE IT. AND YES, THIS IS ANOTHER SONG FIC. WHAT CAN I SAY, THEY ALWAYS END UP BEING THE MOST SUCCINCT OF MY WORK! ENJOY! ~BOMBSHELL9
Song: Lucifer's Angel by The Rasmus
XXX
He killed him.
He was dead. And it was his fault.
And now, he would pay for it.
Hermione Granger turned on them, the fatigue of combat left in the dust, wand forgotten. The pure fury coursing through her body indisputably shattered all of Dumbledore's carefully maintained barriers on her powers, meant to restrain her from attaining her full potential before Harry could take down the Dark Lord. Well, that wasn't exactly an option now.
Because he was dead.
Behind those eyes lies the truth
And grief
Behind those beautiful smiles
I've seen tragedy
The flawless skin hides
The secrets within
The silent forces that secretly ignite
Your sins
In retrospect, it was kind of funny. The prophecy had been entirely true. He had possessed a power he knew not. And one of the reasons he'd been killed was because of one tired old man's chauvinism.
Dumbledore hadn't allowed Hermione to train with her other two thirds. She'd been kept away, busy with menial tasks while Harry and Ron had learned all the skills she now desperately needed.
Because the power that Harry hadn't known about? That was his best friend, the diminutive but never demure Hermione. And now she was going to finish where he'd left off.
Fly away
Fly away
From the torch of blame
They hunt you
Lucifer's Angel
Her small form was whipped up in a fierce wind as the Death Eaters slowly closed in on her. Some staggered back, some simply fell down by the force of the gale. Her black dress stood in sharp contrast to her now pulsing white eyes. They'd been attending Ron's funeral when the attack began. The gown was ripped practically to shreds and the bared skin of her shoulders and thighs was splattered with blood that was most definitely not hers.
She was terrifying.
"Stand forth, dearest Tom." She whispered, knowing he could hear her. "You wouldn't want your devoted servants to see their omnipotent Master hiding from one little girl, now would you?"
Never lived
You never died
Your life has been denied
They call you
Lucifer's Angel
"Darling, you hold me in too high esteem." The Dark Lord separated himself from the throng of Death Eaters, successfully masking the shakes in his voice to all but the "little girl" who was currently floating not ten feet away from him. The shreds of her dress flapped wildly in the raving winds, her hair following suit. She didn't seem to notice. "I never claimed to be omnipotent. I am simply more intelligent."
"I see." She paused, her eyes taking a slightly honeyed tone. "Why, Tom?"
He knew what she meant, but could not give her the answer she wanted. For he did not know what drove him to this fate. And he would never know, for he would die tonight. That, he knew.
Beyond these clouds you can
Hide all your tears
Beyond this world you'll be safe
From there wicked fears
And in their hearts they fear
Your demands
You know their minds
Won't accept you, they'll never
Understand
Hermione stared at him for a moment, already comprehending that which he had just realized. And, in some twisted way, she envied him his death. Because he would be with Harry and Ron, while she must suffer on in the Mortal Realm for a long time before Atropos deigned to cut her string.
Fly away
Fly away
From the torch of blame
They hunt you
Lucifer's Angels
Calmly, and with some small amount of pity, Hermione glided to hang above Tomas Riddle, still a boy, yet so many years past manhood. She saw him draw his wand, and pitied him all the more for it. He still held on to the delusion that he had control over his fate. He clung to it, because if he let go, he would never…
You never lived
You never died
Your life has been denied
They call you
Lucifer's Angel
Without thought, her hand rose and she sent a bolt of raw energy through her palm and into his chest. While he attempted to battle the thing that gripped his heart so harshly, she glanced around the circle. When the first Death Eater met her eyes, he and the group around him, almost a score, flew back thirty feet, then lay still. This caused a chain reaction and within seconds there was no possibility of reinforcements for young Tom.
Her hand reached out again, her fingers curling about his throat, still ten feet away. She lifted him effortlessly from his place, curled on the bloodstained field, leaving him hanging there for a moment.
And then she dropped him. He fell twenty feet before colliding painfully with the Earth. Her eyes pulsed with overpowering rage, and she smirked slightly. She was rejoicing at the chance to so thoroughly destroy the so-called Dark Lord, who was at the moment squealing like a stuck pig.
He flew again into one of the clumps of unconscious Death Eaters, only to be picked up and tossed carelessly into the air again. The screaming wind muffled his wails of pain. Now both his arms were broken, and his right leg utterly shattered. It was obvious that Hermione would not let him die honorably.
She meant to annihilate him beyond any shadow of a doubt.
On your own
I know you can make it
Truth or bone
I know you can shake it
Survive alone
I know you can take it
Fly away
Fly away
From the torch of blame
They hunt you
Lucifer's Angel
And then he was on the ground again, and there was complete silence. The wind no longer shrieked, no spectator dared cough. He was painfully aware of how intent they all were watching them.
And death incarnate drifted over to stand next to him, pulling him to a full standing position. Her hand floated up to rest gently on the side of his jaw. Their eyes met, his red and reptilian, hers an ethereal white. He whispered something, and she smiled weakly.
And then he died.
You never lived, you never died
Your life has been denied
They call you
Lucifer's Angel
As his limp form collapsed to the ground, his flesh melting off his bones in front of her eyes, she stepped back and let him drop.
And then her posture sagged, and she too collapsed, her eyes returning to their normal honey gold color.
After a moment she rose to her knees, looking around her. She saw her friends and family staring at her, lying amid a circle of unconscious men and women, next to the stripped skeleton of the most powerful Dark Lord to ever walk the planet. And all of the events that had just transpired were fully realized in Hermione's mind.
She screamed.
They scattered.
Fly away
Fly away
Run away
Run away
Hide away
Hide away
Lucifer's Angel
Hermione Granger never returned to England. She moved to America after a brief stint in Australia, but wherever she went in the magical world, no matter what her name was, someone always identified her. Eventually she dyed her hair a startling blonde, rented an apartment in Muggle New York, and shut herself away.
Her solitude was marred only by occasional trips to the CVS down the street, and when she took the subway to her favorite little arts supply store, purchasing paints, canvas, and brushes.
Eight years, three months, and nine days after that fateful night, she was found in a dumpster outside Central Park, her skull in twenty-six pieces.
The new tenants of her apartment eventually found a surprising stash of acrylic and oil paintings hidden in the ceilings all throughout the apartment. They depicted violent occurrences beyond all belief:
A skeleton hanging from a gallows, a rose still clutched in his teeth as the battle raged on beyond him.
A pair of maroon eyes sunken into the illusion of a face, staring out from the blackest night.
A man and a woman holding each other close, even though their bodies had been hacked and mangled until barely recognizable.
A young girl and boy curled together on a couch in front of a roaring fire, except his eyes were gray and empty, and hers glowed with a fierce white light.
And each painting was signed in an intense blood red:
Lucifer's Angel