Disclaimer: i don't own Harry Potter or the Hunchback music
This was a song fic that jumped in my head and took about 45mins to write (if even) at 1 in the morning. so be nice.
This is Hermione's point of view during the 7th book, during that time when Ron was gone and everything looked bleak.
GOD HELP THE OUTCASTS
The cold hit her hard. But nothing was as cold as the night he had left her crying out after him. She would stand by Harry, of course. It wasn't just because she had no where else to go. Something had to be done. Voldemort had to be stopped. All witches and wizards deserved to learn magic. Muggle-borns like herself included.
Still she felt so helpless. Moving from spot to spot, just trying not to get caught. Soon she knew they would have to go to Godric's Hollow, though she still thought it a bad idea. As the wind and rain poured outside, she was grateful and a little guilty to not be on watch or wearing that cursed locket.
That locket made her feel just awful. It made her, if she was honest with herself, scared and ashamed that they seemed to be hiding when so many of her kind were being hunted and brought before the Ministry. Maybe that's what made her do it. That's why she found herself kneeling hoping Harry wouldn't see her crying as she prayed.
I don't know if You can hear me
Or if You're even there
I don't know if You would listen
To a gypsies' prayer
Did God listen to wizards or witches? They still celebrated Christmas. Heh, even to God she was an outcast.
Yes, I know I'm just an outcast
I shouldn't speak to you
Still I see Your face and wonder...
Were You once an outcast too?
After that, she took to praying ever night during Harry's watch. Sleep only brought nightmares anyway. But she didn't pray for herself, she prayed for those who had no choice but to run.
God help the outcasts
Hungry from birth
Show them the mercy
They don't find on earth
She asked for help for those she had always fought so hard to help. Those same people she thought of now as she prepared to apparate with Harry the place of his birth. But mostly for people like her. Dean Thomas, the Creevy brothers, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Tonk's father, Ted.
God help my people
We look to You still
God help the outcasts
Or nobody will
They past the church and stepped into the cemetery. She hadn't known it would be Christmas Eve. As they walked amongst the graves, she could hear the parishioners inside with their holiday wishes and favors they asked.
I ask for wealth
I ask for fame
I ask for glory to shine on my name
I ask for love
I can possess
I ask for God and His angels to bless me
She wanted nothing for herself as she watched her best friend read his parents graves. The war to end. That would be enough of a gift. To help those families that had been hurt and torn apart by the hatred that Voldemort created.
I ask for nothing
I can get by
But I know so many
Less lucky than I
Please help my people
The poor and downtrod
I thought we all were
The children of God
God help the outcasts
Children of God