Disclaimer : All Harry Potter persons, places, and things are copyright of the one and only JK Rowling. I don't own a thing.

The Darkest of Wishes

Summary: Hermione has been writing in her diary since her second year at Hogwarts. (Don't worry, I've checked it for any possible Riddle peculiarities.) One night, while with the Order, she comes to terms with her fears about the impending war and wishes that things were different. A dark fairy with a flair for causing havoc and granting wishes in her own diabolical way overhears the wish. How will Hermione deal with her new position at school and in the war?

Author's Notes: If this story looks at all familiar to you, it's probably because it is. About two (or three?) years ago I came up with the idea for this. It was then put on hold and coming back made me realize that there is so much that I could do with this story. You could probably find the story on my other pen name, but I kind of want a new stab at it all together, so really, don't worry yourself about finding it. Most things have changed anyway. So... Hermione is in her 7th year; and things are very AU. Originally written in between OOtP and HBP, so if I don't change a few inconsistencies with the canon facts, it's because it works better with the story. There are hints towards a student/teacher relationship. Though during my re-writes it seems like that won't actually come to fruition. What with better ideas and all. Either way, don't like it… don't read it. Rated M for safety, just in case sexy things happen. And please do be aware that the M is mostly for violence and adult themes.

Chapter 1

And So I Wish...

Hermione trudged into the Gryffindor common room. The muscles in her back ached as she eyed the closest chair. It was only a few more steps away. If she had made it this far she could definitely make it to the chair. Easing herself down into the plush scarlet chair, she let out a sigh of relief. Her tired arms could barely grip the arm rests, so she settled for letting them hang loosely. The moment her body was somewhat at ease, she felt a deep sadness wash over her.

Why was it that the most wonderful people had to suffer? Harry, who had been marked Voldemort's equal when he was born, had suffered far more than his fair share of death, evil, and destruction. Dear Ron, being the one of many children, had suffered the loss of two siblings. One sibling to death, the other to Voldemort. Percy had joined with Fudge, who had been a Voldemort supporter the entire time, and Percy had seen to it that Charlie had been killed by what looked like an "accidental death due to dragon fire." At least, that was what the reports said. But everybody knew better than to believe that. Professor Lupin had to suffer through transformations once every month, no stable job, and throughout his years there had been plenty of death and sadness.

There were so many more people that could be added to the list. But continuing to think about these sorts of things only depressed her more. Looking around her, she realized that there was nothing remotely interesting enough to focus her attention away from the depressing thoughts. The fire was barely even a fire; the embers slowly fading with each passing second only made her feel cold and lonely. But she didn't know if she could even make it to the dormitory without passing out, and falling asleep in a chair was better than the prospect of falling asleep in the middle of the floor or on the winding stairs up to the girls' dormitory.

With a defeated sigh, Hermione knew that she had to make it up to her bed. Groaning, she pushed herself up, and staggered slowly up the stairs until she finally collapsed onto her bed. The moment her head hit the pillow she was sure she would fall asleep, but a busy mind and a tired body never mix well. The mind usually wins.

Hermione inched her hands underneath her pillow, fumbling around for the tiny book she knew was hidden there. Finally, with a small flourish, her small, black diary was free from the pillow's grasp. It was the only cure on hand for a busy mind. Writing out one's thoughts was therapeutic. She knew her handwriting would be completely awful, especially considering how tired she was. But she had to write something. Anything…

Dec 11

I went with Harry and Ron to Hogsmeade; using the Invisibility Cloak with three grown people is considerably a rough task, but we managed. We met with a few members of the Order and then we all Apparated or used a portkey to travel to another unknown location (Harry, Ron, and I used the portkey - Moody said that we shouldn't be Apparating - we might leave all our ears in Hogsmeade). From there we walked a few kilometers to a broken down shack. As soon as we walked in, the size of the shack grew on the inside and it was then we knew that we had our new headquarters. The past two headquarters for The Order had been breeched, and finally Dumbledore created the place himself. This feels much safer than the previous two places.

There was a lot of talk that we weren't allowed to be included in, but we are helping out with a few plans. For fear of this diary being read by prying eyes, I won't disclose any of the plans.

As we walked back the few kilometers from the shack; Harry, Ron, and I ... well ... Harry and Ron did most of the talking. They are both so strong, so brave. Even though they have both suffered considerably, they still want to keep fighting. Listening to their hushed voices, I knew that I wouldn't be able to speak to them. Surely if I had spoken they would be able to see how weak I am, how I don't believe that we can ever win this war. Who wants someone like me on their side? Someone who doesn't believe that we're all going to make it, much less succeed...

There is nothing really worth reading about in this entry, dear diary, I just feel it's wrong for people to suffer. Especially when it's no fault of their own. Why do others not suffer? Especially those on Voldemort's side? They cause all of this chaos, this heartache, and yet I doubt even one of them even knows what it feels like to cry themselves to sleep at night. Why do those of good stout heart, like Harry and Ron, suffer? I'll never understand why, I suppose. Magic will not cure such a thing as suffering. Not even a good tickling charm would do the trick.

I guess all one can do is hope and wish. And so I wish that those who suffer will not have to suffer any longer.

Hermione closed the tiny book and locked it with a charm that she had learned years and year ago. She stretched and shoved the little diary back underneath her pillow. The moment her head hit the pillow she dreamed that her wish came true…

x x x x x

Sable felt the growing unease. It was everywhere. In the Muggle word and in the Wizarding world. She loved the feeling, it gave her strength. Strength enough to finally make it past all of those ridiculous charms and enchantments that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was always bragging about. With the slightest pop she was in the same room with the bushy-haired witch that had been writing in the tiny little black diary for the majority of the night. The girl had definitely been in a sad and sorry state. Physically and emotionally.

Pain and suffering were delicious. They were beautiful and smelled tantalizing, especially when mixed. Sable craved the feeling and the taste of them both. And she knew exactly what needed to be done to get her fix.

Sable's long, dark tendrils slithered their way underneath the pillow, feeling the diary. Surely the girl must have mentioned something about what's been causing her pain. If only she could read a little of it, to get the full flavor of the girl's suffering. She wasn't worried about waking her or anyone else in the room. Ther ewas no need for any light, Sable had always been able to read better in complete darkness anyway.

'And so I wish that those who suffer will not have to suffer any longer.'

What kind of wish is that? Sable thought to herself. A wish for others? Oh, this will not do.

And then, with fiendish glee the dark fairy had an idea. She hadn't granted a wish in the longest time. Sable placed the diary in it's original spot underneath the pillow and while she was close to the sleeping girl, she felt the power in her expand. She filled every corner of the dormitory, making sure that nobody outside of the room, especially a pesky ghost or teacher, could hear the words she was about to speak.

"Though you may not wish for yourself, in your sad time. I'll take your wish, and make it mine. And so with my heart-filled gratitude and thanks, I'll swirl the bubbling brew. And when you awake... what once was, is now not with you. And the best part of this spell, little witch, is that you won't ever be able to break it."

With the faintest hiss, the evil fairy was gone, ready to feast on the impending pain.

x x x chapter end x x x

Author's Note : If you read, I'd love a review!

Chapter 2 Entitled:
Awakening Nightmare

Hermione wakes up in an awful place.