Chapter 02

• Vengeance •

There were days that Hermione just cried, burying her head beneath the blankets of her bed. She didn't even bother to put up a silencing spell anymore. Her work had degraded to such a point that the teachers quite assigning it to her. All of them understood her loss, even the unforgiving Snape. All of them felt for her.

She was rarely seen outside the confines of the Gryffindor tower anymore, and then it was only in the library. No one was sure how she got around without being seen, but she would simply appear in one place, do what she would have to do and disappear again. Lately she'd been doing nothing but study the dark arts, trying to discover a way to destroy Voldemort.

Her faith had gone with Harry's death, and the only thing that drove her was the death of Voldemort and all of his followers. She wanted revenge, she wanted them to pay. No matter how much the other teachers tried to consol her she ignored them, she no longer believe that the teachers were powerful enough, even Dumbledore had let him die.

Hermione blamed him too, he'd let Harry go, he'd been the one that hadn't prepare Harry enough.

On this particular day Hermione was sitting in the corner of the library, a place that no one dared go anymore, a corner that was reserved for her. Tears still fell from her face, but they were silent tears, they came and went with the wind. Now she was too focused on the research to even wipe them away.

A breeze tickled her ear, shattering her deep state of mind. It felt as if he were there, whispering her name. Since it had happened she'd often felt as if he were there whispering in her ear, and she ignored it, but it happened a second time and she looked up. Harry was not around as she suspected, but Ron was fast approaching.

If the death had affected anyone else as much as Hermione it was Ron. Part of it was physical, the gangly youth had grown a full six inches in only a month he looked slightly untidy but he had an air about him that said he was smooth. He had taken up the position Hermione had once filled, constantly studying to keep his grades up. He couldn't make up for the previous years he'd not paid attention, but it sure seemed he was trying.

Somehow he also managed to bring the woman in by droves - driving them away just as fast. It seemed he'd gone through a woman for every day of the week, never finding any particular enjoyment of them being around. But still they came and still he allowed it. It had started even before Harry had disappeared but it had become worse since then. He didn't act the same, he didn't even talk the same. Hermione barely noticed though, it wasn't something she cared about anymore.

"What are you doing in the library at this hour?" Ron asked when he reached Hermione. "You're not trying to raise Harry again are you?"

"Leave me alone," Hermione muttered, flipping the page angrily and trying to gain her concentration again. Ron had been the source and the vent for a good deal of her anger lately.

Bending over, Ron tried to snatch the book from her hands. "Look Hermione, he's dead, there's nothing we can do about it. Deal with it."

"Like you do?!?" Hermione screamed, her temper flaring up to unusual heights. "Going through a different woman every day, dragging them around with you as if you can find some comfort for his death? Harry's not dead! And you're a pig, you know that? I hate you, now leave me alone!"

It seemed as if a knowing smile passed over his lips as he turned away from her. He simply walked away, avoiding a confrontation with the wand that had somehow slipped into her hand without him noticing.

"Hermione!" a voice said sharply only a moment after the door had shut behind Ron. "Really, this is a library, I expect better from you. If you're going to make a ruckus, leave," a familiar sarcastic voice echoed through the room.

The voice reminded her of Harry that this time her head snapped to the side to locate it. No one was there. "No," the voice continued, softer, much more like the times Harry had been with her when they were alone. "You're not about to take on Voldemort by yourself, that's my job," it said as the book at her feet disappeared. Hermione's sharp eyes searched the darkened library but could see no one still.

"You know, he's got a thing for you. Maybe you and he should explore a relationship," the voice said slightly sarcastically, tickling her ears again. Hermione looked behind her again and when she found no one her tears came again, heavier than usual. She knew he was dead, and yet somehow he was there, speaking to her. She'd never seen the body, but then after what had happened they expected it was because he'd used a curse that destroyed it.

Having Harry speak to her was new to her, but she knew that it was a sign her mind was breaking down. She couldn't handle it anymore, she couldn't live without him and she almost decided to take her life right then.

A cool wind blew past her, making her shiver and her light flickered and died. Then something touched her face, running a finger down the side of it. It was cold, but comforting and she knew without a doubt who it was, only one person had ever done that to her. "Harry?" she asked softly, holding her breath in hope, the tears still rolling down her face.

"Yes, in a twisted way," it whispered in her ear again hauntingly.

"No," the voice said firmly as Hermione started to turn to him. "Don't turn around or I won't be there."

She stopped, wiping away the wet tears that still remained. "You died."

"Yes," it whispered softly, only this time, in her mind.

"But you're still alive?" she questioned, faltering.

"In a manner of speaking," it whispered in her mind again. "I exist if that's what you're worried about."

Hermione's caught her breath, and her eyes watered. Her heart began to beat faster almost fluttering with excitement and fear. "Good," Harry purred in her ear. "You know now. The last night we saw each other I made a promise, do you remember? I will forever hold true to that oath."

"But…"

"This is what I had to do to keep that promise," he said. The voice, which had been no more than a whisper, now betrayed a hint of sadness.

"Harry!" A voice choked as the room was filled with light again, originating from the doorway. He made it twelve steps into the room before he was stopped.

"And Ron has returned," responded Harry. He'd already moved into the shadows and once again his voice echoed through the room. "Aren't we just the happy little trio?" Harry said sarcastically, looking towards the third member whose eyes grew wide. "It's hard isn't it, knowing that Hermione was right yet again?"

"But you…" he gasped, stepping backwards. "you…"

"Died? Yes," he said, a grin filled the voice and it whispered of something else, something that Hermione didn't understand.

"Was betrayed? Yes," he continued almost hissing this time. Confusing as it was Hermione couldn't speak at all, the voice and the fact that he was alive had thrown her completely off balance, she was falling fast.

"And by a person I thought was my friend. But it is not true. I can feel it now, I can smell it."

Ron backed away, his eyes glancing from side to side trying to find his former friend. "No, no, you're not thinking straight."

"No, no, no," came a sarcastic whisper from every different direction. "Oh, but I am," came the voice, stronger this time, and right behind Ron. "I am thinking so much clearer now and all thanks to you, you and your friends."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, her eyes still searching for Harry. They found him, he was wearing a cloak of black that completely encompassed his body from his head to toe. The face was not visible in the shadows but she could make out the sparkle of his teeth and an evil smile.

"Do you remember?" he asked, and instantly he was behind Ron again, a gloved hand resting on Ron's shoulders, bringing Ron to his knees, whimpering. "Last year Ron acted a bit strange for a while? You thought perhaps it was because he was just loosing direction. I thought maybe he'd fallen in love. We were wrong. The Marauders Map was stolen right about that time, remember?"

"This," Harry's grip tightened, crushing the shoulder he held, "is not Ron."

"He's gone mad," Ron whimpered, his eyes filling with tears. "Really Hermione. Who are you going to believe? He's the one that's supposed to be dead."

"I am dead," Harry said as he released the shoulder and moved between the two so fast neither could follow him until he stopped. "Can you not see it, what you've done for me? What you've forced me to become?"

"Come now... Peter, you're the reason this came to pass. I have wondered if I should thank you for this, but that was when I thought you were Ron. Now, well I have a debt to fulfill."

Ron shook his head violently back and forth, looking around for some escape. "No, I'm not Peter, I'm Ron. Please believe me."

"You sold me," Harry bellowed, but quickly gained control of himself. "You sold me just like you sold my parents," Harry said sullenly his eyes lingered on Hermione, she could see them beneath the cloak. He didn't move, he didn't even breathe, it was as though he were dead again, dead where he stood.

For an instant Harry had a flashback, he remember the winy Peter Pettigrew kneeling at his feet begging for his life. He remembered every emotion as the poor wretch of a man had burst into tears when faced with Death, when faced with the penalties of the things he done. Then he saw Sirius being thrown through the door, the last time Harry would ever see him. Then, his mind snapped into place again and he moved once more, breaking eye contact from Hermione.

"Do you deny it?" Harry asked his voice perfectly imitation Sirius. He paused, letting the words sink in. But he didn't let Peter confess. "Do you deny it Peter?" he asked again, his voice returning to a perfect imitation of his old voice a little unsure about himself and still confident at the same time. "You couldn't before. Last time I was the one who saved your life because I felt the need to. Are you going to beg Hermione to save you?"

Peter sank to the floor like child. "Please…" he begged, looking up with Ron's eyes. "Please don't kill me. I can help you."

"Help me?" Harry laughed mockingly and Ron shuddered at the voice he was beginning to feel more than just fear. "You killed my best friend and replaced him, didn't you. How you maintain the form, I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter. You are ultimately responsible for nearly every bad memory I have. Can you beg me for forgiveness and expect to live?"

Hermione shifted her weight and stepped forward. Harry could hear the tears rolling down her face and plop to the ground. "Ron's... dead?" she asked as her hand touched Harry's shoulder. "He's really dead?"

"I didn't have a choice," Ron cried, "he made me do it, he said he'd kill me."

"You should have realized," said Harry quietly this time imitation Lupin's voice perfectly, "that no matter how much you want to live someone will kill you eventually. Good-bye, Peter."

"Wait," Ron whined, "I can help, I can give you information that will stop him. I'll turn myself in... please."

Harry paused, feeling Hermione's grip on him tighten. He didn't want to do this in front of her if she didn't want it done, nevertheless Peter wasn't leaving alive.

Then, amazingly enough Ron jumped up with a quickness Harry hadn't expected. Still, he felt the movement even before Ron had moved. "Ron died like a stuck pig!" Ron shouted, his wand appearing from his crumpled figure, pointing at Harry. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted as loud as possible.

The spell was no match for Harry's speed and Peter watched is it continued past where Harry and Hermione had just stood, striking a wall of books and setting them on fire. He gasped as his wand clattered to the floor, his hand crushed.

A laugh trickled across his spine and he turned to find Hermione in Harry's arms, her mouth agape and gripping Harry as if she would never let go. "Peter, Peter, Peter," he laughed and the room filled with a sharp feeling, as if Peter was being stabbed repeatedly with knives. "Do you think that a spell is fast enough to catch me? Do you think that those spells would even hurt me?"

The arm he had across Hermione tightened as he felt Peter tighten, ready to move. He didn't however, and Harry shuddered as he felt the fear of living pass through Peter. "Yes Peter," he whispered mockingly. "I can show you what they did to me, help you understand the experience. Would you like to know before you die, would you like to know what betrayal feels like?"

"Don't kill me…" Peter pleaded, "don't let him do it," he begged, looking to Hermione who was staring at him without emotion.

Hermione released her grip on Harry and stepped towards Peter with Harry at her back walking as quietly as death.

She changed course before she reached him, heading towards the doorway that lay beyond. "Don't leave without talking to me Harry, I'll be waiting outside until you finish," she said formally and then disappeared through the door.

"It's just you and I, Peter," Harry said, running his finger along the back of Peter's neck in a suggestive manner. He could feel the fear emanating from the rat and he was already feeding off of it. "Hungry?" he asked smirking, "I am. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse, or a fat rat, even... a person. People do seem to taste so much more... satisfying."

Peter began to sob again but Harry held him up insuring he didn't collapse. He hated to eat his food off the floor.

"That silver hand of yours can't help you now, can it?" he asked mockingly and laughing so richly that he could feel Peters bones shake. "The life debt you owe me never will be repaid, will it? It's too bad, I was so hoping that I could refuse it before I kill you, but I couldn't find you amongst the Death Eaters I've killed lately, and now I know why."

Leaning over Harry sniffed him, exaggeratedly. The fire behind them jumped to a separate bookcase. "You're afraid Peter. You're afraid for your life, I can smell it. It makes this so hard to prolong," he shuddered trying to keep himself in check. He was young still and hadn't acquired full control of his thirst.

"Please…" Peter whimpered one last time.

It was hard to ignore his protests, they fed his hunger and he had a hard time not letting it consume him. Grabbing a hold of his other hand he crushed it, continuing to the arms. When both upper limbs were completely disabled Harry picked up Peter by the neck, his hand closing tighter and tighter around it. "You Peter will live, but only for a short while longer. Sirius was never cleared and if you want your life to end easily I suggest you confess to a jury and have them take your life," he said as his eyes bore into Peters.

Then, Harry threw him like a rag doll at the doors, which popped open. His limp body was only stopped by the other side of the hallway. The body slowly started to transform as Harry stood in front of it.

"Oh Peter. Your neck's broken, you wont be going anywhere for a while," he said carelessly, then he reached down, picked up Peter one last time and again stared into his eyes. "You will tell the world about everything you've done. You will not remember me, and you will never see freedom again," he said with an air of finality, dropping Peter back to the ground.

Then he turned to Hermione. "What is it?" he asked softly.

"Take me with you," Hermione murmured, staring down at Peter. Behind her a fourth bookshelf began to catch flame. It wouldn't be long before someone appeared to put it out.

"I won't."

Hermione's eyes shifted between Harry and Peter. "I've got nothing left," she said gently. "Please take me with you."

"You have life. I won't put you through what I've been through. You can live on and die, I will not. I will see everyone I've ever known die and I will not change. The world will evolve, Voldemort will be defeated, another Dark Lord will spring up in some distant future and I will remain unchanged. Your children's children's children will die and I will do nothing but watch."

"Our children Harry, our children," she said, holding his cold hand to her belly. "Before you left you gave me a gift."

A shout from the halls revealed someone else was coming. And then, Harry was gone leaving Hermione holding nothing but air and weeping.

-