Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word count - 1848

Warning - Character Death

The Losing Side

The battle was horrific. Spells were flying through the air, and she had no idea who had even cast them. Smoke in the corridors meant that visibility was awful, and Hermione was almost hit with a green flash more than once.

She was scared of using stronger spells in case they hit the people she was fighting with, instead of those she was fighting against.

Eventually she found her way to the Great Hall. As she entered the battle there, a high, horrible voice interrupted them, ordering them to dispose of their dead with dignity.

Lord Voldemort was giving them an hour to lay down their wands and accept defeat.

How magnanimous of him.

Hermione quickly found the Weasleys, and Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders. This was a mess, and there was no end in sight. Ever since Harry had gone missing, the light had fallen into dire straits. Even this battle was proof of that; never would Hermione have expected Dumbledore to allow the students of Hogwarts to be put in such danger.

He stood at the head table with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, their heads low and their whispers urgent.

Hermione watched them for a long moment before she shook her head. Never before had he seemed so human to her.

Madam Pomfrey, with a group of students and a few adults Hermione didn't recognise, bustled around the hall, treating the injured as best she could in the time they had. Hermione knew they wouldn't be bowing to Voldemort, even if that meant they would all die here this eve.

She wondered how many others knew the truth of that.

She wondered how many people in this hall knew it was their own fault that this was happening in the first place.

If they'd only treated Harry better… if they'd only paid more attention to him, without believing every last word the Prophet wrote about him… maybe he'd still be here to protect them from this.

Maybe he'd still be here to give them hope.

Instead he'd been caught over the summer, when they'd all been living their lives happily. He'd been caught and killed from the one place Dumbledore had assured them all he was safe.

Hermione looked back at the Headmaster and sighed. She knew she couldn't lump all of the blame on his shoulders, and she was sure that she couldn't make him feel any guiltier than he already felt.

She'd seen it in his eyes when he'd informed them of Harry's capture and subsequent death.

If only one of them had been paying more attention…

Hermione pressed her face against Ron's shoulder and his arms tightened around her on reflex. 'If only' wouldn't get them anywhere.

The clock ticked down to dawn, and a rumbling outside told them of the army marching towards them. All around her, people were preparing themselves to fight.

When the doors opened, she gripped her wand tightly and raised it, as ready as she would ever be.

Except. Except, she wasn't ready for what she saw. Voldemort led his army, and he stepped into the Great Hall like he belonged there; like he wasn't there to destroy the lives of so many people.

At his side though…

"Harry?"

"Harry!"

"HARRY!"

He looked in their direction, and Hermione froze as she met his emerald eyes. Once upon a time, they'd looked upon her with warmth and fondness. They'd sparkled when he laughed.

Now though, they were colder than she'd ever seen before. He only looked at her for a moment, before he turned his attention to the Headmaster, who was staring at him from his place at the top of the hall. He looked paralysed, even as the teachers and the remaining Order members seemed to flock around him, all wanting to know how this changed things.

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of Harry though. He looked… he looked powerful. He looked like a leader, a ruler. He looked… like a prince. His robes were made of what looked like the finest material, a dark purple that looked almost black until he moved. He no longer wore glasses, and his eyes were even greener without the barrier they provided. He stood straight and tall, his every movement graceful.

She didn't know what had happened to him, what he'd been through since the last time she'd seen him, but she couldn't help but think it suited him.

In the few moments of shock, the Death Eaters had flooded the hall, and everywhere Hermione looked, there was one close by, their wands trained on the people closest to them.

The defenders of Hogwarts were woefully outnumbered.

"Harry?" Dumbledore questioned quietly, his voice carrying in the silence of the hall.

Harry's head tilted, and he looked back at Dumbledore. "Headmaster."

A flash of green took them all by surprise. Harry simply moved to the side of the rapidly approaching spell, and it smashed harmlessly into the wall.

"And here, we all thought the light side of the war was above reproach," Voldemort mocked, shaking his head. "We haven't attacked, have we? That was unnecessary, Albus, you should train your dogs better."

Hermione watched Harry even as Voldemort spoke. His eyes were on the offending caster, and she wasn't surprised to see Snape glaring back at him.

Harry raised his hand, and Hermione frowned when she realised that he wasn't even holding his wand. Slowly, he closed it into a fist, his eyes never leaving Snape.

Snape's face contorted with discomfort, until he actually let out a whimper of pain. Harry's fist squeezed tighter, and Snape fell to the floor, screaming in anguish.

Voldemort laid a hand on Harry's shoulder gently, and as simple as that, Harry relinquished whatever savage spell he'd been using, leaving Snape face down on the floor, panting harshly.

Bellatrix cackled madly to the side. "Well done, Little Lord," she murmured, her appreciation and approval clear for everyone to hear.

Harry's lips tilted in amusement as he glanced at her.

"Are you planning to continue the fight, Albus?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes alight with glee. "Are you too proud to admit defeat? Will you truly allow these people who look up to you, who worship you, to die for you?"

His words were spoken quietly enough, but there was an aggressive edge to his tone that Hermione couldn't quite place.

"I cannot allow you to win, Tom. You know that," Dumbledore replied solemnly, his blue eyes never leaving Harry.

"It's not really a matter of what you'll allow, any longer, Albus."

"I'm tired of the fighting, Tom," Harry murmured softly. "I know you like a production, but can we get on with this?"

"Harry, this is not you," Dumbledore said, his tone calming, as though speaking to a spooked animal. "I do not know what Tom has said to you, what he's promised you, but you must know he is using you. He doesn't care about you, Harry, he doesn't know how."

"You mean like you care?" Harry asked, his eyebrow arching.

"I do care about you, Harry," Dumbledore replied firmly. "All I ever wanted for you was a normal life, a life that wasn't filled with violence and pain. I tried to shield you from that for as long as I could."

"You left him with abusive muggles," a voice sneered from behind a mask, close to Tom's side. "You left him to be beaten and starved and ignored for years without ever checking on him. If that is your way of caring, I believe Harry is more assuredly better off with us. We will look after him."

Hermione was surprised by the protective tone of the voice. She knew the voice, of course she did, Lucius Malfoy was unmistakable, but to hear him speak like that about Harry… it was unfathomable.

"If that is how it must be…" Voldemort shook his head and his wand slipped into his hand. "Then so be it."

The words seemed to be what he Death Eaters were waiting for. Around the room, people were slumping to the floor, dead or stunned. Hermione didn't know what to do for the best. She didn't want to let Harry down again, but…

She couldn't fight for Voldemort. She wouldn't.

"Protego."

It was said quietly, but a spell bounced off the shield Hermione hadn't cast. She looked around wildly and realised she, along with the Weasleys, were in a protective bubble. Never before had she seen the shielding charm do that, but when she looked up and saw Harry staring at them, his eyes gleaming, she realised it was his doing.

After what he'd done to Snape, she fully believed him capable of just about whatever he wanted to do.

She watched, her hand covering her mouth and tears streaming from her eyes, as the Death Eater's systematically took the light side apart. Voldemort and Dumbledore battled in the middle of the hall, Harry watching on critically.

Dumbledore was still talking, practically begging Harry for help now, but Harry stared on impassively at his every word.

Hermione knew the moment Voldemort took the advantage, and she couldn't stop her whimper when Dumbledore eventually fell, eyes rolling back in his head and his wand soaring into Voldemort's hand.

He caught it, victorious and stared down at the wand for a long moment, before he turned, and presented it to Harry.

Harry took it, inspecting it carefully and then looked up to meet Voldemort's eyes.

Then, without a word, he snapped the wand in half.

"What would you have us do with them, Little Lord?" Lucius asked, nodding to the bubble holding Hermione and the Weasleys.

Harry tilted his head and the bubble released. They all gripped their wands, unsure as to what was going to come next.

"I don't want to kill you," Harry said quietly, watching them. "You showed me kindness, at least for a few years. You were the first to do so."

"How could you join him, Harry. He murdered your parents!" Molly shouted, her voice choked as she cried. "How could you?"

"My reasons are my own," Harry said simply. "If you agree to leave the castle, to keep your heads down and live your lives, you'll be free to go."

"And if we don't?" Arthur asked, his voice impressively flat.

"Then you will be killed," Harry replied.

"You bring shame to your family, Harry Potter," Molly snarled, raising her wand. "I won't support a murderer!"

Her family nodded, and Ron's hand squeezed Hermione's. She knew she could separate herself from him, could choose to live, but…

Her feet were frozen to the floor.

Harry nodded slowly. "Then you've made your choice. Bellatrix? Make it quick please, I'd like to go home."

He turned away and stepped back, taking his place at Voldemort's side.

"Harry," Hermione whimpered. "Don't do this."

He didn't even look back. Hermione's last thought was a wonder if she'd made the right choice. She'd picked the losing side, and for what?

The green spell struck her chest and she knew no more.

Written for;

Disney; T3. Write about being on the losing side.

Showtime; 9. Protego

Arcade; Ganondorf - Dark Purple / Aggressive / Savage

Around The World - Ramadan Lantern - Dawn

365. 39. Flock

1000. 920. Protective