A/N: Hey, guys! I know it's been a while, a lot had happened during the time since my last update, but know that I fully intend finishing this story, even when I take long breaks like this.
I will say that I have a few future chapters written, and I'll try to go back to a normal update schedule (And you can thank quarantine for that)
Without further ado, here we go!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural.
December 2008.
It was with an almost ecstatic expression that Alistair walked towards Hermione, the knife she previously used now held in his hand. Hermione tried fighting against the chains, but all it did was make them tighten around her.
She couldn't overpower him, and they both knew that. If she had her wand, she might have been able to hold him back long enough to escape, but it was all the way across the room and her attempt at a wandless Protego didn't as much as tickle him.
"I thought you already figured it these sort of things don't work the same on us," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Brady taught you that pretty efficiently, didn't he?"
At the mention of the Demon who possessed her and made her kill her friend, Hermione felt anger rise in her. Alistair laughed. His hand made a sharp movement and she could feel a burning in her abdomen and blood dripping from the wound.
"You got a lot to learn, girl," he said, slashing the knife once more and creating a second cut to mirror the first. "So I'll see you back in class, bright and early, Monday morning."
The knife plunged into her and she choked for a moment as Alistair started to push it deeper, only for a hand to grab him from behind and a second knife to plunge into his chest.
For a moment, Hermione thought that was it – that he was finally dead – but as soon as she got a closer look she could see Castiel missed - by barely an inch, but he still missed.
"Well, Alistair said, looking at the knife with a wicked smile, "almost. Looks like God is on my side today."
A fierce right hook sent Castiel back, and soon enough Alistair had him held by his neck, propped up against the wall. Relieved that his attention was no longer solely on her, and all too aware of the bleeding wound that was sure to kill her if she didn't act quickly, Hermione started trying to summon her wand to her.
"Like roaches, you celestials," she could hear Alistair saying to Castiel, knowing that as soon as the two of them were done, he'd turn back to her. "Now, I really wish I knew how to kill you. But all I can do is send you back to heaven."
He started chanting, words that Hermione couldn't have understood even if she could have comprehended what was going on around her. She was barely aware of the two men barging into the warehouse, only managing to realize that one of them headed straight to her while the other pushed Alistair away from Cas.
"Hermione? Mya, can you hear me?"
Dean.
It was no sooner than she realized it was Dean and Sam were the ones who arrived that her wand flew to her hand and the chains that held her loosened their grip. It was also at that exact moment that Hermione knew she had to get away.
She couldn't stay. Couldn't let them know what she'd done. They could barely look at her as it was, knowing what she did in Hell – to find out that she was the one who started the Apocalypse…
She had to get away.
"Mya – Hermione, wait!"
Before another word could leave Dean's lips, Hermione already Apparated away from the room and to the first place that came to her mind. She could vaguely register Gabriel's cry of shock and fear and realized by the burning in her thigh that she had been splinched, albeit a very tame one.
Only there, as she was slowly bleeding out before Gabriel, did she finally let the darkness that threatened to overcome her win the fight.
She could rest now, she knew. It was okay.
She was safe here.
When she finally woke up, Hermione found herself in a bed, wearing not the ripped and bloodied clothes she arrived with, but a soft nightgown. Moving hurt, and sitting down was practically impossible with the way she felt like she was being torn apart with every movement of her muscles, so she gave that up fairly quickly, choosing to look at her surrounding instead.
She was in a bedroom, that much was clear, though not one she had seen before. She knew it must be Gabriel's – she vaguely remembered apparating to him before losing consciousness – though she didn't know why he would have one, seeing as he had no need for sleep.
At the thought of what else he may have been doing in this bed, Hermione scrunched her nose.
As though summoned by her thoughts of him – and, perhaps, he was – Gabriel appeared in the doorway. Seeing him made some of the tension leave Hermione's shoulders, tension she wasn't even aware she was holding.
Upon seeing her awake, Gabriel let out a sigh of relief, and Hermione had only just allowed herself to smile when his expression darkened. She had never seen him that angry.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, storming into the room. "Do you have any idea what you did?"
"I…" Hermione muttered, taken back by his rage. "I just… I needed somewhere safe to be."
"That's not what I'm, talking about and you know it!" Gabriel all but yelled. "I'm talking about you, deciding to give up everything you believe in to go torture Alistair!"
"It was necessary –"
"It was selfish!" Gabriel cut her off. "Just like everything else you've done recently! You know, I've seen some selfish people during my life – but you make them look like saints!"
"Look who's talking!" Hermione snapped back. "Running away because you couldn't stand to see your brothers fight!"
"When my brothers fight, continents burn!" Gabriel bit out. "You, on the other hand, decided to throw every bit of progress you made over the past months because of some petty revenge –"
"It's not petty!" This time it was Hermione's turn to cut him off. "It's not!" she repeated, her voice breaking ever so slightly. "The things he did to me… the things he made me do…"
When Gabriel spoke again, his voice held no pity.
"You chose it knowingly," he said, cold and unforgiving. "You knew the terms of the Deal you made, knew that it would mean you torture others, and you chose to do it anyway just like you chose to torture Alistair this time, just like every rotten choice you made over the past year!"
"I did what I had to do!"
"No! You did what you wanted to do, with not a moment taken to consider anybody but yourself!"
Hermione was taken aback at the raw anger in his voice, but if Gabriel noticed, he certainly didn't care.
"You sold your soul, knowing how it would affect everyone around you, because you couldn't stand the thought of Dean dying! You decided to keep hunting with the Winchesters, rather than spending time with your family – who, I might add, thought you were dead – because you can't let go of your stupid schoolgirl crush! And you decided to go torture Alistair because you wanted revenge! And not because it was 'needed'."
He didn't use his hands to mark the air quotes in his words, but he didn't really need to. Hermione heard it loud and clear.
Pushing the blanket away, she reached out into the air, her wand flying towards her open palm with barely a conscious effort.
"What a surprise," Gabriel snarled. "Running away from your problems, again."
"Oh, shut up!" Hermione snapped, standing up even as she swayed on what felt like the after-effect of a particularly nasty jelly-legs hex. "You don't get to lecture me!"
"Oh, no, who am I to judge?" Gabriel asked poisonously. "I'm only the guy you come running to whenever you nearly get your stupid self killed. No need for a warning or – God forbid – a friggin' thank you!"
"Oh, fuck off!" Hermione called as she regained her balance, looking her ex-boyfriend right in the eyes, anger waves all but drowning everything around her.
"Go!" Gabriel all but dared her. "Go back to your little death-seeking adventure! Just don't come running back to me when you inevitably nearly die again!"
"Don't worry," Hermione bit out. "I won't."
And with that, she Apparated away.
She landed just on the outskirts of the wards around her father's house, but when she moved to make the first step she found something holding her back. Nothing physical, of course, that would have been too easy.
With tears rising to her eyes, Hermione found herself knowing the one thing she was trying to deny with everything she had.
Gabriel was right.
She was selfish – oh, so selfish and she wouldn't even admit it. She tortured Alistair and liked it. She sold her soul, leaving her daughter – of, god, how could she leave her daughter?
The fits of sobbing that drowned everything she was over the next few minutes were punishing, unforgiving, and more hurtful than anything Alistair had ever done to her.
What had she done?
She left her child. She caused pain to her friends, her family. She broke the first seal.
She started Armageddon.
When she could breathe normally again, Hermione knew she couldn't go into the house she saw, not far away from where she stood. She couldn't tell them, and she couldn't lie to them. She was unstable, unsafe, and it was a bad idea for her to go hunting until she was better.
Grabbing her wand again, Hermione Apparated, this time with a clearer destination in mind.
She knew what she was going to do next. And while it was not going to be easy, she knew she had to do it.