Death Becomes Her

by C

A young woman left her family and friends ten years ago to become a (drum roll....) HIT-WITCH! Now she is offered a job to murder one of her friends. And now her world is turned upside-down as she re-enters the world that she left so long ago. A tale of

1. The Courtyard in Paris

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There is a Disclaimer to this story. It is that the characters that I am using are of JK Rowling's property. The story was, interestingly enough, inspired by the film "Grosse Point Blank" and some of my dialogue is loosely taken from the film. I have no idea how it came to this. But I'll tell you that I'm not intending on having a reunion or anything – just some dialogue and, er, scenes have been taken and altered from the film. Also the Silver Arrow is a restaurant in Verrtick Alley, which was invented by A. Spinnet and I have her permission to use it. But I think the plot is mine. At least I hope that I claim it as mine.

This is my very first piece of Fanfiction. But I'm not going to go off and say that you must be gentle because I'm just a beginner. To be honest, I don't mind whether I get a Flame or a Brilliant Review, though a brilliant review is much preferred. In my opinion; Flames are useless. But if you have something good to say, like my grammars all-wrong, or that the story is too vague and you have a suggestion on how to improve it. Then the constructive criticism is welcomed with opened arms.

Ladies' and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls. Welcome to my story…

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Chapter O1 – The Courtyard in Paris

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"After all, to the well-organised mind,

death is but the next great adventure"

            – JK Rowling. Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone, Page 215, Paragraph 16, Line 3-4.

I aimed my wand expertly at the pompous looking man in the hotel courtyard. He took a sip from his whiskey glass and settled back in his chair opening the evening paper. He seemed completely harmless and it was a shame he had to die. I glanced quickly around him to make sure that the area was clear. You had to be a sharp shot from this distance and you didn't want any extra bodies. I squinted at him, making sure that he was within the aim of my wand; it wasn't hard considering his size. I took several deep breaths. Now for the hard bit.

'Three. Two. One.' I counted. 'Avada Kedavra'

Immediately, I felt my wand shake and a surge of deadly power shot out the end of it. And invisible death raced towards the man and engulfed him. For a split-second his eyes grew wide in terror as he realised that the sharp gasp of shock he took was his last. He slumped in the chair, the paper floating to the ground. I silently congratulated myself on applying the Incognito charm on my wand that morning. No one would have been able to see the source of the curse.

I quickly pocketed my wand and walked back into my hotel room. I swiftly grabbed my coat and walked downstairs into the lobby.

'Could I please use your Floo Fire?' I asked the receptionist, smiling sweetly.

The receptionist nodded. 'Of course, Madame! Where are you intending on going?'

'Diagon Alley in London.'

She opened a jar on the desk and measured out five grams of floo powder. 'That will be fourteen sickles and two knuts, please.'

My eyes must've widened in surprise because she then added. 'The fare is very high when you are crossing borders and the Channel.'

I hastily opened my purse and counted out the money in exchange for the bag of powder.

'Zee furnace is down the corridor and to the left.'

I thanked her and walked to the furnace. As I stepped into furnace and said my destination, I heard a blood-curdling scream. A scream of a waitress finding a dead body in the courtyard of a small hotel in Paris.

* * * *

I lit a cigarette as I walked into my office in Diagon Alley. I don't usually smoke, it's a dreadful habit, and I know the consequences of it. But sometimes I just needed to relax, unwind – which is pretty hard considering my job. I walked to the desk of my secretary, Fiona.

'Good Morning, Miss!' she said cheerfully. 'Did the job go well?'

I nodded. 'Yup. Clean as a whistle. He didn't know what was coming to him.'

'That's good. You have three messages.'

'Oh?' I said. 'And what might they be?'

Fiona ruffled through some papers and found a list. 'Someone wants you to delete the owner of the Silver Arrow, and then there's an offer for Graham Chambers – you know, the new conductor for the symphony choir.'

I raised my eyebrows. People wanted people dead for such petty things these days. 'Who's the last one?'

She bit her lip. 'I don't think you'll like this one.' She said. 'It's pretty weird.'

I shrugged. 'So? Who's the person that someone wants dead?'

'The Minister of Magic. Percy Weasley.'

'Ouch.' I sighed. 'That's a toughie. He's got protection 24/7… How do they want him done?'

'It's pretty sickening, Miss. They want the Cruciatus curse and the Imperius curse combined. They want to torture him into killing himself.' Fiona said, looking green at the very thought of it.

I myself felt ill too. That was the most horrible way to die. I took a deep breath. 'What are they offering me?'

           

Fiona turned very pale. 'Oh, Miss! You're surely not thinking of taking the job!'

'I don't know.'

'Well, they're offering big money.' She gulped. 'Twenty three thousand galleons to be precise.'

I stubbed out the cigarette. 'Tell them that I'll take it.'

Fiona began to look very sick. 'But I thought that you knew him when you were younger!'

'I did. But it's not me who wants him dead. It's my potential client. I do it for the money… I honestly don't realise why people think it's personal.'

She looked at me sympathetically. 'Don't you think it's time that you stop doing this?' She said. 'Isn't the job beginning to get to you?'

'Yeah. It always does. But it doesn't make me feel ill. I'm just the hand that's being made to do the dirty work. It's not me.'

Fiona looked at me incredulously. 'Go home, Miss. Take a rest. Clean your wand. Just take a few days off from popping people off..'

I thought about it for a moment. 'Okay then, Fiona. I'll take a bit of a break. Two days. Maybe three.' I picked up my wand from the table and headed for the door.

'Oh! And Miss!' She called out after me.

I turned.

'Maybe you should get back into contact with Weasley.'

'Why?'

'So you can see the pointlessness in killing him.'

I shrugged again. 'Goodbye Fiona.'

'Bye Miss!'

* * * *

My flat was empty. Just a bed, a kitchen and a table. I never had time to decorate. It was always country and county hopping to erase people. Normally people who had been up to bad business, but sometimes I got the odd client who wanted to get rid of an old enemy. Sad really. I never had time to have friends for dinner or to go out and enjoy myself. I had a shelf life. It was always work – office – sleep. That was my life in a nutshell. It hadn't always been like that. But I ended up leaving my happy life for a sad one. How stupid. And I wasn't even popular in my job. Since I was female, it was regarded horrible to be a – oh I can't say it. Life was in shatters for me. And I couldn't pick up the pieces.

If anyone had told me when I was fifteen that I was going to be a – oh well, I'd better say it – professional killer when I left school, I would've told them that they where mad and should be submitted into an asylum. I would've told them that I was going to become a worker for the Ministry or have some top earning job, get married to my school sweetheart, have a few children and settle down for a happy life in a happy house with a white picket fence. If I had been told that I left school in my second last term to be trained to eliminate someone, I would've told them that they missed their medication. If I had been told that I joined the Ministry in the Hit-Wizard department but left because I would've earned more in a self-ran firm, I would've told them to go and jump off a cliff.

But they would've been telling the truth. In my second last term of school, I decided to take a chance and leave everything behind. I would leave my friends, family, professors, enemies and lovers. And I would sign up to learn how to kill someone effectively without getting caught. Well, I actually went to learn Army Intelligence, but when I took the test, it proved that I had a certain talent in popping people off. Lovely, isn't it?

And everyone I knew thought I died or disappeared. They never realised that I was the person on the balcony watching them live their lives. They never realised that I was the first person to buy a ticket to they're first Quidditch game. And they certainly never realised that I was the odd looking woman standing next to them in the line at Florean Fortescues. I was watching them grow and glow, while I slowly mastered the art of aiming and uttering and leaving un noticed.

Yes, the job was getting to me. It was slowly eating away at me. And I have no idea why I accepted to murder Weasley. I suppose I've grown cold and only care about money. But I hope that I can stop myself from saying the two most dreaded curses on this earth.

* * * *

I never liked sleeping. It took up too much time. When I was younger, I would read instead of sleep. Now I would stay awake to carefully aim at the victim. And my discovery of caffeine had been a Godsend. But, that day, 'my day off', I actually slept quite a bit. It was very disturbing. I had dreams that were horrible. People I knew appearing and telling me to come back. But mostly Percy was appearing telling me not to kill him. It made feel uneasy that morning. Terribly uneasy. And it made me think of Fiona. I recalled something she told me a few weeks ago.

"You have to have closure before you die. Otherwise you'll come back as a ghost. Ghost's always have unfinished business and they have to go around doing things they forgot to do when they were alive, but it takes longer time...You should really go and say sorry to the families of those people you killed. And get in touch with a few old friends. I'd hate to come back as a ghost – they're so transparent. I'd prefer to go straight to the other side."

Perhaps I should go and get my closure, whatever that is. But saying sorry? That's like giving someone the axe to chop off my head. I'd like to keep my head, I quite value it. And I'd die before I went around as a headless ghost.

So this morning, when I woke up sweaty from my stressful sleep, I decided to go and find Percy. Maybe a professional killer should have a few guidelines. I will not accept an offer to murder a friend. As if. You do it for the money. And killers don't have morals. We don't. At least. I haven't been told we have them.

Huh, I just thought of the funniest thing. I'm unlisted. That's why no one could find me. I'm an unplottable person. If I weren't, I would be back at the stupid Ministry punching numbers. I just think it's weird. I could find anyone but they couldn't find me. Not even the Ministry Intelligence Agency (MIA) could find me. And I worked for the MIA; I would've thought they knew me enough to find me. But maybe they don't want to find me. Maybe they've given up.

* * * *

Alcohol. It's a sin to drink it then apparate away to another place. That's why I use the Floo Network. It's private. The stupid Ministry could find me if I apparated a centimetre. They have to monitor all apparations. Just incase some idiot gets splinched. I've been lucky; I've never gotten splinched. And I'm lucky that I get jobs overseas. I can at least apparate overseas. I'm not classified as a missing person there. I'm just classified as a tourist.

That got me thinking, as I walked down Diagon Alley and into Gringotts, what if I got a different passport? A different citizenship? Then I could be a tourist here and not use the Floo Network. That would be heaven.

I gave my Gringotts key to the goblin. I personally love Gringotts as a place. It's the only place where I'm still not 'missing' and the Ministry couldn't find out if I came in here once a month for a withdrawal if they tried. It's like a Swiss Bank Account. Very hush hush and trustworthy. The goblin led me to the cart and drove us down to my vault. When it was open, it was a great deal fuller than it was when I had first opened my account, and a great deal golder. I picked a few handfuls of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts and put them in my sack. Then we rose back above ground and I walked out calmly.

But on the inside I was shaking. My bleeding legs were leading me to the Ministry building. Stupid legs. I pushed the door open and walked over to the woman at the desk.

'Can I be of service, Miss?' She asked, looking thoroughly bored.

I coughed. 'Yes please. I would like to see the Minister of Magic.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Do you have an appointment?'

            I shook my head truthfully.

            'Well then,' She said smugly. 'No appointment, No Minister.'

            'Please!' I protested. 'It's very important.'

            She shook her head briskly. 'No. But perhaps I can take your name and contact address so he can call you.'

            I bit my lip. 'Hermione Granger.' I sighed.

            Immediately, her face changed to shock. 'I think you can go right in.' She mumbled, pressing an intercom. 'Mr. Weasley. I have a guest for you.'

            'Now, Ms. Baxendale. You know what I said. No visitors until the end of the meeting.' Came an annoyed voice from the speakers. I smiled inwardly, that was Percy.

            'But Sir,' She protested, lowering her voice. 'It's Hermione Granger.'

            I could hear Percy making a choking sound, and several other people who were perhaps in the room gasping. One of them swearing loudly that this couldn't be true. My stomach did a flip-flop. Other people that I knew were there. This was the last thing I wanted. To see the faces of people who would be crying within a few weeks that Percy was killed. By me. But they wouldn't know that.

            'Bring her up.' Said a parched voice that belonged to Percy.

            The young woman switched off the intercom and hit a bell that was on the desk. Instantly a large, buff security guard came. 'Take her to the Minister's meeting room. Make sure that no one talks to her until you get there.' She said, authoritively.

            The guard nodded and motioned for me to follow him. I sighed loudly and followed him up the winding stairs and passing several departments. I looked down at my shoes as I walked; I knew that people were staring at me – the missing girl. I felt a pang of guilt as I passed the reference library. The smell of books filled my nostrils and I truly regretted leaving the force. Finally, after several minutes, we arrived.

            'In here, Miss.' said the guard, opening the door for me.

            I took a deep breath and stepped in. I looked around me. It couldn't get any worse. Why did everyone have to work for the Ministry? Not only was Percy in the room, but also there was also Harry, Neville, Oliver, Eleanor and Ginny. They were looking at me, their jaws on the floor.

            Then Ginny rushed from her seat and embraced me, tears beginning to make stains on my robes. And by chain reaction – everyone followed in suit.

            'Where have you been?' Sobbed Ginny. 'It's been ten years.'

            Then the questions began to fly. From only three people.

Oliver, Ginny and Eleanor.

Percy, Harry and Neville looked like they were about to kill me. They were eyeing me dangerously. And I noticed they had not left their seats.

I bit my lip and walked over to Harry. 'Hey Harry.' I said, smiling weakly. 'How you been?'

He looked at me in the eye and scowled. 'Cut the crap, Granger.' He said acidly. 'Where have you been for the past ten years?'

This took me by surprise. Since when had he ever called me Granger?

'Oh… around.' I replied vaguely. I flashed a smile to Neville. 'I need to speak with Percy.' I said.

Neville smiled softly at me while Percy puffed out his chest in his usual manner and walked over to me. And I suspect that the others heard my saying so as they all left the room, Ginny, Harry and Neville being the last. Ginny was still sobbing, Neville still being unusually quiet and Harry – well – he was still being very sour.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Percy turned to me, concern all over his face.

'Where have you been and what have you been doing?' He asked.

I bit my lip, debating with myself whether to tell him. 'I can't tell you.' I said finally.

Percy sighed. Defeated.

I silently told myself to deduct a bit of Fiona's pay. I definitely shouldn't have listened to her.

'Well, at least you could tell me what you've been doing.' He said, giving it another go.

I sighed. 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you.' I said, silently wishing that I hadn't said that ridiculous pun.

He looked at me seriously. 'Hermione,' He said gently. 'No one knows about you being a part of the MIA for a few of those years when you disappeared. Not even Harry and Ron… I kept my promise to conceal you, but, Hermione, can you please tell me where you have been, what you have been doing and why you are here, just to put one mind at ease?'

I took another deep breath. If I kept that going I could end up being an expert at giving birth.

'Okay.' I whispered. 'But you're not going to like it.'

* * * *

            I think I'm an expert at screaming. And pointing. And making a racket. And bawling like no tomorrow. I actually have no idea why I never became an actress. I would've been a hit. Huh, another pun. I'm honestly becoming unbearable. But there I was, my wand back in my pocket, telling the authorities that the spark came from the window in the building opposite. And then Harry was there, with his arm around my shoulders telling me to calm down. I think he's forgiven me. And I'm laughing all the way to the bank.

            My job isn't exactly horrible. In fact, I think I'm beginning to like it. But when you apply for something you can't put; Professional Killer and proud of it, on the line. It's ridiculous. But I get my pay.

            And now, disappearing is harder than ever.

            And so is going to Percy's funeral.

            What a riot. They put on his grave; Died through a window. May he rest in peace. I really can't think why they put that. It's just weird. And untrue.

            Percy never died through a window.

            He died through me.

* * * *

There we go. My first bit of warped humour. How lovely.

And I'd like to thank A. Spinnet for allowing me to use the Silver Arrow from her fic: "To Love is a Crime", which is the prequel to: "To Love a Weasley", both of which are excellent. Also, many thanks to her for giving this fic a good, long hard look before saying that it was ready for the public.

Thanks.

You don't have to review. I'd like you to. But it's not an obligation.

And remember to tip your waitresses.

And as the secretary named Fiona says:

"Death is me middle name. That's why I signed up for the job."

And as the founder of the MIA and the Hit-Magicians Anonymous says:

"We kill quick and easy and never get caught!"

Isn't that lovely?

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