Title: Hell In A Handbasket
~~~~~~
Intro: The Second War had come and gone. Losses on both sides were heavy, and the Dark Lord failed to regain power, but he didn't fail in his most desired mission. Harry Potter now rested in peace with several friends and colleagues. So many had gone, so much bloodshed and pain. So many sacrifices. Those who survived lived with the memories, the nightmares, and they were left to pick up the pieces of their lives with weary spirits and heavy hearts.
There were those of course who become so broken down they couldn't find the courage to move on. Some took their own lives, and still more ended up with a permanent residency in St. Mungos. The trauma was just too much. And the hate, it lingered. Those on opposite sides of the fray still looked upon each other with bitter loathing.
And here our story continues, on a dark alley, in the middle of a bitterly cold winters night.
Dark brown eyes peered from under the hood of a cloak. All the features hidden from sight by the heavy black material. The person walked slowly among the shadows, unnoticed by most all the others stragglers on the street. Soon the person reached their destination and slipped silently into an inky little shop.
The figure stopped before the counter, and though it seemed no one was around, a greasy sales-man soon appeared. He narrowed his small eyes suspiciously at the figure. "How may I help you this evening?"
The person also narrowed their eyes underneath the cloak. "A pint of dementors blood, that is, assuming you still carry it." Came a smooth female voice from the protection of the hood.
The salesman smiled, a nasty twisted one that showed some of his crooked, yellowing teeth. "And what would make you think I have anything like that?"
"Don't play games with me. I know you've sold it here before, and a reliable source tells me you still do. Now, get me the vial so I can be on my way." She spoke sharply, leaving no room for argument.
"Alright. Wait here." He spoke irritably.
A moment later he was back with a small, purple vial, filled with a bluish- black liquid. "A hundred Galleons."
"Eighty, or I can go elsewhere. Besides, I don't believe this sells too often." she said fingering the bottle that now stood on the counter between them. Her long, perfectly manicured finger soon slipped back out of view.
"Fine." the slimy sales-man spat, clearly irritated at the mysterious woman.
A velvety black satchel was thrown on the counter. It clinked as it hit due to the large amount of gold coins it contained. The feminine hand then snatched up the vial and it disappeared from view as did she when she apparated out.
The sales-man stood staring at the now empty space ahead of him, before turning and making his way to the back of his shop again.
~*~*~ Hermione sat calmly behind her desk. It had been two years now since she had been made Headmistress at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not really to anyone's surprise, but it hadn't been a happy day. It took place a week after the final battle against Voldemort and his DeathEaters. Most people felt she was the best person for the job. She also taught a few DADA classes, seeing as she had faught in the war to the bitter end and lived to tell about it, though she never did. She never spoke a single word about it. She had returned terribly quiet, never speaking to most people unless it was necessary.
As she sat she began to tick off the names off all the people on she knew personally that died all that same day:
'Minerva McGonagall
Albus Dumbledore
Severus Snape
Neville Longbottom
Lavender Brown
Parvati Patil
Dean Thomas
Molly Weasly
Arthur Weasly
Bill Weasly
Charlie Weasly
Percy Weasly
Fred Weasly
George Weasly
Ron Weasly
Harry Potter....'
The list went on and on and as she ticked them off there was a knock at the door. "Headmistress?" the voice sounded at the other side of the door.
"Come in." Hermione replied quietly, but her voice carried to the person waiting.
In stepped the red-headed Charms teacher. She gave the Headmistress a small smile, and stood before her desk.
"Gin, how many times have I told you not to use titles with me? Sit down."
"Sorry 'Mione, but I don't want to slip up around the students." Ginny replied as she took the offered seat. Hermione waved a dismissive hand as she herself stood, as if to say, 'doesn't matter.' "So, what's wrong? You don't usually pay me a visit at this hour of the night unless something's wrong." All the sparkle had faded from Hermione's eyes years ago, and she was forever serious, never a smile escaping her, but she remained kind at heart. She looked at her good friend as she twiddled her fingers and a frown marred her otherwise pretty face. With that particular expression she seemed to have aged much more than 23 years. "Ginny? What's wrong?"
The young professor sighed and looked up into her friends brown eyes, "It's just... I know it's silly, but, tomorrow is the second anniversary, since.... you know."
Hermione nodded, with now a more solemn expression on her face.
"Yes, well, I wanted to know if you could come with me, you know, to visit them. I know you don't like to, but I don't think I can do it alone again." Her eyes pleaded with Hermione even as she sat perfectly still, and collected. Hermione turned away from her best friend for the last couple of years, and she looked out the window. She watched as the snow fell softly on the already coated surfaces of the grounds. "Sure Gin. Just send me an owl when you're ready to go." Tomorrow was Saturday, and she would leave Professor Finnigan in charge of the school while she was gone. After the war he had also gotten a position at Hogwarts, seeing as the school was in such desperate need of instructors. The Ministry volunteered most of them because they were the most qualified. He was now teaching Herbology.
Hermione sighed as she heard the door of her office open and close, notifying her that Ginny had left. 'Some things are yet to be put to peace Gin...' She thought sadly as she pulled a small purple vial from the folds of her robes. 'But not for long...'
~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you all enjoyed it. I don't know if I should leave it as a one-shot or not. Please review and let me know what you think.
Love, AngelicEmpress
~~~~~~
Intro: The Second War had come and gone. Losses on both sides were heavy, and the Dark Lord failed to regain power, but he didn't fail in his most desired mission. Harry Potter now rested in peace with several friends and colleagues. So many had gone, so much bloodshed and pain. So many sacrifices. Those who survived lived with the memories, the nightmares, and they were left to pick up the pieces of their lives with weary spirits and heavy hearts.
There were those of course who become so broken down they couldn't find the courage to move on. Some took their own lives, and still more ended up with a permanent residency in St. Mungos. The trauma was just too much. And the hate, it lingered. Those on opposite sides of the fray still looked upon each other with bitter loathing.
And here our story continues, on a dark alley, in the middle of a bitterly cold winters night.
Dark brown eyes peered from under the hood of a cloak. All the features hidden from sight by the heavy black material. The person walked slowly among the shadows, unnoticed by most all the others stragglers on the street. Soon the person reached their destination and slipped silently into an inky little shop.
The figure stopped before the counter, and though it seemed no one was around, a greasy sales-man soon appeared. He narrowed his small eyes suspiciously at the figure. "How may I help you this evening?"
The person also narrowed their eyes underneath the cloak. "A pint of dementors blood, that is, assuming you still carry it." Came a smooth female voice from the protection of the hood.
The salesman smiled, a nasty twisted one that showed some of his crooked, yellowing teeth. "And what would make you think I have anything like that?"
"Don't play games with me. I know you've sold it here before, and a reliable source tells me you still do. Now, get me the vial so I can be on my way." She spoke sharply, leaving no room for argument.
"Alright. Wait here." He spoke irritably.
A moment later he was back with a small, purple vial, filled with a bluish- black liquid. "A hundred Galleons."
"Eighty, or I can go elsewhere. Besides, I don't believe this sells too often." she said fingering the bottle that now stood on the counter between them. Her long, perfectly manicured finger soon slipped back out of view.
"Fine." the slimy sales-man spat, clearly irritated at the mysterious woman.
A velvety black satchel was thrown on the counter. It clinked as it hit due to the large amount of gold coins it contained. The feminine hand then snatched up the vial and it disappeared from view as did she when she apparated out.
The sales-man stood staring at the now empty space ahead of him, before turning and making his way to the back of his shop again.
~*~*~ Hermione sat calmly behind her desk. It had been two years now since she had been made Headmistress at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not really to anyone's surprise, but it hadn't been a happy day. It took place a week after the final battle against Voldemort and his DeathEaters. Most people felt she was the best person for the job. She also taught a few DADA classes, seeing as she had faught in the war to the bitter end and lived to tell about it, though she never did. She never spoke a single word about it. She had returned terribly quiet, never speaking to most people unless it was necessary.
As she sat she began to tick off the names off all the people on she knew personally that died all that same day:
'Minerva McGonagall
Albus Dumbledore
Severus Snape
Neville Longbottom
Lavender Brown
Parvati Patil
Dean Thomas
Molly Weasly
Arthur Weasly
Bill Weasly
Charlie Weasly
Percy Weasly
Fred Weasly
George Weasly
Ron Weasly
Harry Potter....'
The list went on and on and as she ticked them off there was a knock at the door. "Headmistress?" the voice sounded at the other side of the door.
"Come in." Hermione replied quietly, but her voice carried to the person waiting.
In stepped the red-headed Charms teacher. She gave the Headmistress a small smile, and stood before her desk.
"Gin, how many times have I told you not to use titles with me? Sit down."
"Sorry 'Mione, but I don't want to slip up around the students." Ginny replied as she took the offered seat. Hermione waved a dismissive hand as she herself stood, as if to say, 'doesn't matter.' "So, what's wrong? You don't usually pay me a visit at this hour of the night unless something's wrong." All the sparkle had faded from Hermione's eyes years ago, and she was forever serious, never a smile escaping her, but she remained kind at heart. She looked at her good friend as she twiddled her fingers and a frown marred her otherwise pretty face. With that particular expression she seemed to have aged much more than 23 years. "Ginny? What's wrong?"
The young professor sighed and looked up into her friends brown eyes, "It's just... I know it's silly, but, tomorrow is the second anniversary, since.... you know."
Hermione nodded, with now a more solemn expression on her face.
"Yes, well, I wanted to know if you could come with me, you know, to visit them. I know you don't like to, but I don't think I can do it alone again." Her eyes pleaded with Hermione even as she sat perfectly still, and collected. Hermione turned away from her best friend for the last couple of years, and she looked out the window. She watched as the snow fell softly on the already coated surfaces of the grounds. "Sure Gin. Just send me an owl when you're ready to go." Tomorrow was Saturday, and she would leave Professor Finnigan in charge of the school while she was gone. After the war he had also gotten a position at Hogwarts, seeing as the school was in such desperate need of instructors. The Ministry volunteered most of them because they were the most qualified. He was now teaching Herbology.
Hermione sighed as she heard the door of her office open and close, notifying her that Ginny had left. 'Some things are yet to be put to peace Gin...' She thought sadly as she pulled a small purple vial from the folds of her robes. 'But not for long...'
~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you all enjoyed it. I don't know if I should leave it as a one-shot or not. Please review and let me know what you think.
Love, AngelicEmpress