Dark Passion Play Chapter 1: Consign to Oblivion, a harry potter fanfic

Dark Passion Play

By EchoDeltaNine

Chapter 1: Consign to Oblivion

Boom! Shring! Bang!

She covered her head as another wave of dust and shrapnel rained down from the floor above. She could barely see through the haze hanging in the air, but she plowed through the rubble; the unknown was much better than waiting for the known.

"Impedimenta!" She ducked the spell, throwing herself behind a half-destroyed marble column. "Reducto!" The column shook with the curse, several cracks branching over its pearly surface, but it held.

She peeked around the corner of her shield. There were several of them, all hooded in black cloaks.

"If you come out, perhaps we won't have to kill you," one of them sneered. She couldn't place the voice with a face, but she recognized it; it was a voice she had heard jeering at her during the six years she had spent at Hogwarts.

She sucked in several gasps of air, trying desperately to think her way out of her predicament. She could take them, right? She was the best witch of her age!

But several things happened at once that left that one fact irrelevant and forgotten.

First, Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom scampered into sight, voices loud and spells raining down on the stand of death eaters that had her trapped.

Second, the cloaked idiots were taken completely unaware and a fierce battle ensued that caused several screams and one very broken leg.

The Light won, of course. Ginny, Neville, and Hermione took out all six of the death eaters with little effort, though it left each of them exhausted.

"Come on," Neville panted, taking Ginny by the sleeve of her shirt. "Harry's in the Great Hall. He needs our help." The girls nodded and began to follow him, but there was one event that had been vastly overlooked: one of those cloaked men had gotten lucky and tripped on an untied shoe just as Hermione Granger tossed a very damaging spell into the fray. And, in a corner of the hall, clutching a stitch in his side, was said death eater, watching the three of them converse.

Something made Hermione pause as she watched her two friends sprint down the stairs at the end of the hall. She turned, gazing at the destruction that the battle had caused. Bodies littered the floor, some beginning to stir as she watched.

Suddenly she felt eyes on her. It was a feeling she was not used to, but one she had most certainly experienced, and one she did not like. She tightened her hand around her wand, rehearsing a mantra of curses in her head, ready to use one at even the slightest sign of danger.

But even she was not prepared for him. He walked like death, only raising small clouds of dust as he strode silently through the carnage. And then his hands were on her, forcing her arm away from him, her wand disappearing with the clatter of wood on stone, a scream locked in her throat as she was thrown roughly against a wall.

"Don't." The voice was harsh as he pinned her to the stone, a wand shoved into her throat. "Get the hell out of here," he hissed, his voice urgent. "Get out and run. Do you hear me?" He shook her roughly, his hood falling back to reveal stormy silver eyes and severely pointed features. "Run and don't you ever look back." He shook her again and she nodded quickly, swallowing hard as he jabbed her again with his wand. "You're losing. Don't get caught in the aftermath." He looked around them quickly and stepped away, throwing her towards the main stair case.

"Go!" he yelled and she only looked back once, to kneel and search blindly for her wand, and to catch him sweeping away into the gloom.

She didn't need much more encouragement.

She descended the stairs as quickly as she could, stunning two death eaters on her way across the entrance hall. But how could she just abandon Harry? How could she leave Ron and Ginny and Neville? All her friends, all those people who would die trying to protect them all?

On a sigh of frustration she dashed back to the doors of the Great Hall, and she immediately wished she hadn't.

In the center of the hall, a tall, snake-like figure circled around a young, dark-haired boy. The two were snarling at each other, but she couldn't understand a word that was being said. There were several different battles happening throughout the hall, and she watched her friends and family fall one by one.

Tears streaked her face when she heard the words. Avada Kadavra. One flash of green light and Harry Potter slumped to the ground and lay still.

A sob caught in her throat as the hall went silent, every eye turned towards her fallen friend and the victorious form of Lord Voldemort. Several moments passed and then the quiet was cut by a vicious, mirthless laugh, and her heart sank in her chest.

She wanted to stay, to go and take out the man for her friend, but the death eaters were already swarming around their leader and his prize. She would have no chance.

She tried to find Ginny and Neville, Ron, and anybody else but she saw no one.

"I told you to get out." A voice beside her made her jump and a small yelp escaped her lips. His frigid grey eyes were like daggers as she met his gaze. He did not speak again and instead pushed her towards the doors before turning his back on her once again, entering the hall to participate in the celebration.

She did not want to be told again, so she took off running as fast as she could across the grounds. Even as she did, she had little hope of getting out. There were so many of Voldemort's followers in the grounds that the likelihood of her escaping was a million to one.

She was lucky. She nearly made it to the gates, they weren't 200 yards away when the spell hit her.

"Stupefy!" Her breath released in a gasp and Hermione Granger fell face-first onto the ground, her only hope of escape gone before it really even began.

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The noise around her was deafening. Everyone was screaming and crying, shouting profanities, shaking the chains that anchored them in the room. The woman next to her had streaks of blood across her face and she kept sobbing about her missing children. The man on her left had lashed out in a fit of rage and had been removed several hours ago.

Hermione herself kept quiet, pressing herself into the wall trying to appear as insignificant as possible. The whole getup reminded her of a history lesson on the slave trade from Africa; all those people had been packaged like sardines in over-stuffed boats and taken to a place in which there were people who thought they were better than the others.

This was no different, except each of the enslaved were muggle-born witches and wizards. The smell was terrible: all human sweat; though, admittedly, the captors had allowed them to use a proper bathroom.

In any case, Hermione had not been fed in at least two days, and the little water she had been given had not lasted very long at all. It was panic time, now. What, exactly, were the purebloods going to do with them? Were they going to murder them all as an example to the blood traitors and anyone who thought that the purebloods were wrong? Was it going to result in a magical Holocaust?

She didn't much like to think about it, but as the hours passed, she didn't have much else to consider. She had already counted the number of floorboards in the room (one hundred and three), the number of seconds between the guards' rounds (one thousand eight hundred seventy six), and also the number of freckles on the red-headed girl across from her (three hundred and forty seven), and her brain was finally sulking to more intellectual matters.

However, today, a new tension was in the air. The guards were harsher than normal, setting silencing spells on those prisoners who were rowdy, and they even went around scorgifying everyone. Even though the object of the spell was to clean, she felt disgusting afterwards. Her hair was a frizzy mess and her skin too dry, her clothes missing the smell and feeling of using a dryer sheet.

Several hours passed before it happened. The door banged open and the supreme guard shouted for silence.

"Quiet!" he yelled, brandishing his wand as he strode into the room. "Get up, all of you! And stay quiet!" Grumbles sounded in a wave followed by several yelps of pain as the guard flicked his wand. "I said silence!"

Hermione stood silently, her head bowed. Whatever was coming didn't sound very appealing, and she hoped that if she just did what she was told then she would be ignored.

"Don't move, any of you," the guard snapped before leaving them to themselves once again.

"What do you think is going to happen?" The girl next to Hermione asked. Hermione shrugged noncommittally. Silence was protection here.

They didn't have to wait long before the guard returned with a pack of wealthy men behind him. Hermione tried to keep her eyes on the floor. She didn't like this one bit. But when she heard a voice she recognized, she couldn't help but look up.

"What is this?" Draco Malfoy's voice was full of disgust. All those people with their hands chained together and tethered to the floor…it disgusted him! "What the hell is this?"

"This, son," Lucius replied, leading the group up a row, "is all of the prisoners taken after the Dark Lord's triumph." He sneered at several of the prisoners, jerking the hem of his cloak away from a desperate-looking man who had fallen to his knees. "In his gratitude, he has granted his most loyal followers their pick of the lot." He looked down his nose as they started down another row. "Not very impressive, it seems…."

"I don't want slaves," Draco said disgustedly. "What is the point?"

"The Dark Lord has given us a high honor, Draco. Do not question his bequest." Draco narrowed his eyes and glared at the prisoners they passed. Not one of them stood out to him; they all looked malnourished and weak, filthy even. Besides, they were all mudbloods. What use could they be to him?

Draco stalked the aisles, looking into every face as he passed. He saw a blonde-haired, freckled face that he thought looked like Lavender Brown; and there was that raven-haired boy from Hufflepuff that Draco had once punched on the Quidditch pitch.

He was beginning to believe that Voldemort was an old crackpot that needed to rethink his gifts when he saw her. Her face was hidden by her massive amounts of hair, but there was something about her. Perhaps it was that she stood ramrod straight and that she didn't seem fearful, but rather as if she were trying to appear invisible. Perhaps it was that when she raked her eyes over the group come to claim them and her bright, intelligent brown eyes stared loathingly into his own, she jutted her chin into the air defiantly.

And, perhaps it was the fact that he had told her to run. To get the fuck out of there and away from Hogwarts and England and magic in general. But she had not listened; and though he knew she had tried to heed his warning, it did not change the fact that she hated him and that he loathed her.

She bared her teeth as he paused in front of her. If he wasn't sure that she was restrained, he would have been fearful of being attacked. But instead she held her ground, glaring balefully from under all of her hair.

"I've changed my mind." Draco turned towards his father, but his eyes never left hers. "I want her." He pointed once at Hermione and then swept gracefully from the room.

A/N: So, new story guys. I'm really pleased with what I have so far, so let me know what you all think! I will read a fanfic from every reviewer and I will review those fanfics too! Let me know what you think :)