Loose Ends
By
Juno Malabre
17/1/05
Hermione raised her wand against the cowering man in front of her. In the distance she could hear explosions and shouts, and screams. But where she was standing, there seemed to be calm. It was as if the sounds were reaching her through water; everything was clouded. All she could completely focus on was the quivering form of Peter Pettigrew, and that was with heightened perceptions. She could even hear his panicked breathing.
"Even though we spared your life, you turned against us again. If you had not returned to him, you would not be in this position. It is all your own fault!" Hermione's voice was surprisingly level. "And now it is all over."
With a shriek Peter threw himself at the feet of the young woman. She ignored the look of hope on his face, and could only view him with contempt and distaste as he pleaded for his life.
"Please! Kind girl, sweet girl, spare me! I'll change my ways! I'll start again! Save me," Hermione saw his eyes flick past her face for a second, then his tone changed. "And I'll save you."
Before Hermione could even say a word, strong arms snaked around her waist and grabbed her hands. She was pulled back, her body pressed flush against the man - and it was definitely a man - behind her.
"LET ME GO!" Hermione shrieked, as she writhed in the arms and tried to aim her wand at any part of his body. But the only body she could angle her wand towards was her own; he had such a tight grip.
"I think we shall be removing you from the action. A battle is no place for a lady." A softly spoken voice sneered. "So if you would be so kind as to come with me…"
But of course, she had no choice. The grip around her waist was tightened as she was dragged off struggling. She did not fail to notice that her tormenter seemed to be enjoying her struggle. She could not fail to notice. Desperate plans started forming in her brain, and she briefly entertained the idea of using his…enthusiasm of the situation to her advantage. However that was briefly pushed aside. He was obviously physically if not mentally stronger than her, and she would not have had a hope once she had let him get her down on the ground.
'I just have to keep fighting.' Hermione thought anxiously. ' He can't do anything if I'm still fighting!'
And maybe she could have continued fighting, had she been in control, but she was not. The man threw her down roughly behind a pile of rubble, and then straddled her, pinning her beneath him and bringing his face close to hers. It was only then that Hermione realised whom her captor was. Antonin Dolohov. The same Death Eater who had tried to kill her three years previously. The same Death Eater who had killed Mrs. Weasley's brothers. The same Death Eater who was Voldemort's right hand man. Hermione feared for her life.
"Now I'll finally shut you up you little mudblood." Dolohov's breath was rank, and Hermione screwed up her face as she tried to get away from the smell. The man gave a harsh chuckle.
"So you think you're too good for me?" He slapped her face so hard she thought her neck had broken. "You are so far beneath me you unclean brat, that I could do whatever I wanted with you."
Despite the pain she was in, Hermione's eyes flew open. This was not possible. She knew what was going to happen. He was going to force her to…to… It was too much, but at the same time it was just enough to make Hermione rebel against his strength. Forgetting about her wand, which lay too far out of her reach, she brought her knees up sharply, pitching Dolohov over her head, where he crashed into the floor. He rolled off her in pain and she scooted from underneath him, and grabbed her wand.
Several things happened at once. Dolohov let out a scream more horrible than Hermione had ever heard and clutched at his left arm. Hermione could see the flesh seem to boil around his hand, around the dark mark tattooed on his skin.
Gathering all the fear and anger and hatred she had felt mere seconds before at his suggestion, she raised her wand and uttered the killing curse. A jet of pure green light shot across the ground, leaving a scorched trail behind it, and hit Dolohov square in the chest. She turned away, refusing to look at his body.
The screams seemed to have died down, and Hermione gingerly stepped over parts of fallen houses and shops into the remains of what was once Diagon Alley. The body of Pettigrew lay off to the side.
'Someone else must have reached him then.' She thought shakily.
There were figures moving about the street, turning over bits of wood, examining the bodies that were strewn around. A sad, silent calm had settled with the early morning mist. The battle had gone on through the night. It was impossible to believe.
Too drained to even look for any of her friends, alive or dead, she sat down on the front step of what used to be Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The step was the only thing that was left of the shop. Hermione stared into the mist, wondering whether this was it, whether it was all over, or whether there was more to come. Which there certainly would be if Voldemort had won and Harry had…not.
Hermione suddenly focused on what seemed to be a very large figure emerging from the mist. It was Ron, and he was supporting…
"Harry!" Hermione leapt up, forgetting her fatigue and ran to the two boys.
"Calm down Hermione. He'll be OK." Ron looked at the half unconscious boy proudly. "He just killed You – Know – Who. It's all over."
Hermione pulled her two best friends into a hug, not bothering to hide the tears that were freely flowing down her cheeks. They could go home. They didn't have to worry now.
They turned, and started walking back down the street to where a raggedy group of wizards were clapping each other on the back. It was all over.