i She looked at the sky overhead, hearing the thunder rumble and watching a strike of lightning fly through the sky. The clouds overhead swirled slowly, rain stinging the bare flesh of her arms.
Her bushy hair fell in a mess down to the middle of her spine, the spots under her eyes nearly black. Her chocolate-like eyes swerved around the field before her, breathing in the hills and yellowish grass.
Cold wind bit at her bare ankles and arms. But she tried to ignore it. Pain should not matter. She was on a task. For thirty hours she had worked and tried, and now the final cards would be played. She only hoped it would work out her way.
A dark figure stood some feet away from her. It was nothing but that: darkness. You could see the outline of a body, but there were no features on the face or anywhere else. Of course, Hermione knew who this was. /i Death. i
The figure moved its skinny legs, creeping slowly towards her. The rain falling through him seemed to slightly disfigure his appearance, as if he were made of air. She heard the grass rustle under his feet however, and knew immediately that he was more solid than she was.
"Are you ready?" his voice made shivers slide down her spine, cold and heartless. His bonny hand reached for her, its palm pointing towards the sky.
She stared at him, disgust etched on her face. "I will never be ready for what you have asked me to do." She kept her arms to her side, not moving an inch as she spoke. She heard a bird chirp in the distance and shut her eyes tight, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.
Death laughed, but it sounded more like a grunt. "Have you discovered the truth then, love? Have you found your murderer?" he stepped closer, his stretched out hand threatening to grasp her flesh.
"It doesn't matter. I'm not ready to let somebody else die for me, and you know it." She felt the tears actually begging to slip from under her eyelid and slid down her cheek. Feeling the coldness that he was scratch her arm, she pulled back slightly.
"Does that mean you prefer to die?" From his voice, she was sure he would have been smiling had he had a mouth. The cold hand grasped her arm, holding tight this time. He stepped close to her, their bodies pressing together, his head against her ear. "You played quite a game. I cannot believe you are ready to do this."
"I will not be a murderer." She smelt his breath, putrid and cold, upon her ear and tried to pull back. But his grip was to tight. Tears now falling freely from her eyes, she opened them and looked at him with determination.
Death laughed once again. "It has been a tough thirty hours for you. Should we just get this over with?" his voice shook with glee and excitement, his hands trembling slightly.
Hermione shut her eyes once again, this time in a giving up gesture. Slowly, feeling the rain biting her skin and this time allowing the pain to run through her body, she nodded.