This piece of work does not belong to me. I do not intend to make profit from this work; it is purely for my and the readers on this website's entertainment. All characters (except for Isla) and the general plot line belong to J.K. Rowling and the story is loosely based off Derek Landy's Skulduggery Pleasant series (which I definitely recommend for anyone who has not read them yet). Please review and criticise as much as you want so I can improve.

x Schmexynerdgirl

Obliviate

A sword of light cut through the suffocating darkness of the room as the door opened, falling onto toys and the other debris of a 15-month-old's playtime. The door widened, followed by a cascade of caramel curls and honey eyes. Hermione Granger's face was streaked with tears and her eyes were an angry red and puffy. Though she was usually a very beautiful young woman, tears did not suit her at all. Her wand held securely at her side, she stood there for a few moments, just gazing at the innocent cot.

You're pathetic.

"Shut up," she gritted out from between her teeth.

You think I'm the evil one? Look at what you're doing, by your own will, and tell me again. Go on.

"I said, shut up," her voice rising.

The voice just laughed.

As she made her way to the cot, she refocussed on the infant wrapped in white blankets. Slowly, carefully, she reached out her hand, the one without her wand, and stroked little Isla's forehead.

"I love you," she whispered, flinching and as the voice snorted in disbelief.

You hypocrite. As if saying that excuses what you're about to do.

"I love you…so…much," she choked as a fresh wave of sobs wracked her body.

Hermione fell to her knees, wand dropped and forgotten, the other hand gripping the barrier of the cot. Great waves of salty tears ran through her entire body, spilling over through her eyes. The beautiful baby's bedding had a great, and spreading, dark patch.

The pain in her chest was unbearable. Crying out, her hand flew to her heart and pressed. Her black coat was restraining her, drowning her so she shrugged it off. But nothing would stop the waterfall of guilty tears.

In a way, she was glad. Good, she thought. You deserve this pain. How could you? How could you rid her of the one thing you've wanted your whole life? You're evil and a hypocrite and you deserve of suffer.

All throughout this ordeal, the voice laughed softly.

But she needed to calm down. She had to calm down for she couldn't risk waking Isla or her parents. If her parents – former parents – ran in to see what seemed to them a strange, young woman standing over their baby's cot, chaos would ensue. No, she couldn't let that happen or all this would be for naught.

So, gathering up her Gryffindor strength and bravery, Hermione wiped her eyes, scooped up her travelling coat and stood. Tears threatening to reappear, she kissed her own fingers and gently pressed them to little, innocent Isla's forehead. Isla smiled and shifted in her sleep.

"I'm so sorry."

Yeah, you keep on telling her that.

"I love you," she whispered with a sad smile, for a final time, even as she raised her wand.

"Obliviate."