SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Title: An Inevitable Fate
Chapter Twenty Five: The Voice Within
Author: KissThis
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Rating: PG-13 - maybe later...if I feel like it.
Pairing: *giggles*
Setting: 6th year in Hogwarts.
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Disclaimer: Let's see…what could I trade for Harry Potter…well there's – wait no…umm…hey! I bet my soul might be worth somethin'!
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A/N: Wow, this one took forever for me to get started on. Just didn't really have any umph or urge to get cracking at it right away, but I guess I finally got over it Sorry – I don't mean to deprive you, luvs.
"Let every dawn be to you as the beginning of life, and every setting sun be to you as its close." (John Ruskin)
Hermione sat on her bed for a long time after Krum left, just staring out the ship's window. All manners of creatures past by, but Hermione paid them no mind and nothing more than a cursory glance. The tears had stopped falling quickly enough, but the feelings behind them were embedded within Hermione. As she rested her chin upon her sticky hands and felt the dampness in the sleeves of her blouse she knew a change of dress would be in order if she wanted to look presentable. But, really, her appearance was far from her immediate train of thought.
Dragging herself morosely from the bed's edge, upon which she had fallen into her reverie, she moved to stand before the window and pressed her forehead against the glass. She exhaled slowly and her hot breathe against the pane turned to fog, blocking out the creatures that followed the ship in primitive curiosity.
Hermione closed her eyes and turned away from her hidden reflection. Falling back against the wall, she didn't even flinch as the temperature in the room dropped several degrees and a wooshing sound filled the air.
"Sovereign." The nymph monotoned in greeting.
"Hello, Postvorta." Hermione replied half-heartedly. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips pursed as her stomach leapt into the back of her throat.
Cold hands on her shoulders propelled her forward and away from her steady support. She opened her eyes and allowed Postvorta to lead her to the vanity like a small child. Lifting her face she looked into the haunted amber eyes that stared back at her.
"You cannot arrive like this, Sovereign." Postvorta declared. "It is not befitting your status."
Normally, Hermione would have argued about Postvorta raising her up on a pedestal which she never want to be on in the first place, but she couldn't summon the mental strength. Icy fingers followed the strands of her hair to where it remained confined within a loose braid. Hermione refused to allow the nymph to demean herself to a servant-like status when she was with Hermione. She opened her mouth, but her stomach writhed and she could not find the words that could stop the determined hands of the nymph.
As deft fingers unwound her twisted strands of hair Hermione turned back to the mirror. Postvorta released her cinnamon locks and the curtain of hair fell down around her face and shoulders. Her hands twitched in her lap. She lifted up a hand to stroke the cool face of her reflection; hypnotized by the wonder in front of her.
The innocent seventeen year old was gone. She was looking into the face of a killer.
Her hand dropped to the vanity table, making the bottles and containers on its surface rattle. She couldn't bear to look at the image of what she had become. She was drained and hollow, feeling worse than she had before her conversation with Krum. Talking about her problem hadn't helped in the slightest and its effect left her prone and open. Her thoughts drifted back to Kylee and her resolve began to crumble, however, the persistent lurching in her stomach forced her to focus on Postvorta's cool touch across her hair.
If she weakened...Hope would take her again.
Hermione choked down the fear threatening to rise in her at the mere thought of becoming imprisoned once again. Her eyes flickered and the mirror shimmered at the sudden light. She felt the walls going up in her mind as she sealed away the painful memory of Kylee Rookwood. The brick-and-mortar walls blocked the traumatic images from Hermione's mind, but it wasn't until a fourth magical barrier formed around the memory that she could no longer hear her screams.
You can't hide from your memories forever... A voice whispered in her mind. More and more lives will be lost – would you block them as well? Death gravitates towards your destructive power. It. Will. Never. Stop.
I hold no delusions towards my fate...
Then you better find a way to deal with the lives you steal. One day they'll break free and bury you beneath their screams…
Go away! Hermione demanded. She thought she heard the apparition chuckle, and then, surprisingly, it faded away. Probably to prowl and probe the other corners of her mind, she muttered silently. The rhythmic patterns of Postvorta's fingers through her hair distracted her from her own inner turmoil and the contemplation of her inner voices. When she was a small child she'd always loved for her hair to be played with, and as the years passed the action had continued to comfort her.
"I am finished." Postvorta told her. Her fingers continued to stroke Hermione's long silky hair. Hermione's saffron eyes lifted to view the nymph's handiwork. She smiled. Waves of loose curls tumbled over her shoulders, bouncing against the curve of her neck.
"Thank you, Postvorta." Hermione told her with a smile. "I should change. We'll be at Hogwarts any minute."
She stood up from her vanity chair and Postvorta grudgingly extricated her watery hands from Hermione's curls. The nymph floated back and forth through the air lazily as Hermione darted behind the ornate, Indian changing screen spread across the corner of her room. Moments later, her tear-stained blouse was flung over top of one of the screen panels. The only sound was the rustling of cloth as Hermione changed.
"Not the yellow." Postvorta said.
Hermione cursed through a mouthful of cloth and the sound of fabric hitting the wall followed quickly after. As if the changing screen weren't even there, Postvorta seemed to know Hermione's every move. "The green neither. Black."
Hermione picked up the requested article and tugged it over her head, taking great care not to ruin Postvorta's careful work upon her hair. The black satin-like material reached just over her shoulders, like a t-shirt, before giving way to unnecessarily long black sleeves of fishnet gauze. The cuff was wide and the slits reaching to her elbow gave her a more free use of her limbs. The artistic top went well with her darkened jeans and chunky, black, heeled sandals.
When Hermione emerged from behind the screen, Postvorta was gone.
Picking up her wand from where she'd earlier discarded it beneath her bed; she set about gathering her things together from her comfortable perch atop her bedpillow. A murmured incantation and the old bristled broom leapt from its cobwebbed corner and, after months of disuse, danced lively across the wooden floor. Hermione laughed as the ancient broom bowed to her as it passed, shuffling more dust into an ever growing pile in the middle of the room.
"Come on; bucket, mop!" She coaxed. With a wave of her wand the mop jumped from its resting place inside the wooden bucket as its former bed was suddenly filled with icy water. The bucket wiggled and bounced into the middle of the room followed, less enthusiastically, by its counterpart. As it passed her, the mop shook its handle at her resentfully; much like a person would shake an angry fist, before jumping into the water-laden bucket.
Hermione laughed gaily, and clapped her hands in child-like amusement at the antics of her cleaners. The broom lifted into the air with a faint sparkle of golden stars and wrung itself out over the bucket, who only managed to stay put for a short time before resuming its bouncing trail across the room. The mop's handle shook again and it swooped down to clean up the wrung out water that had missed the antsy bucket.
The bucket bobbled around the broom guarding its pile of dirt protectively, as water sloshed out of the bumbling bucket. The mop chased its partner around, having to stop every few feet to clean up the spills, but when it finally caught up to the wayward bucket the mop gave it a swift kick and hard smack with its long handle. The bucket immediately rattled to a stop and allowed the mop to re-wet itself and begin washing the floor. The mop sashayed back and forth leaving a thin layer of quickly drying water. It bumped into the broom making it jump and quickly begin sweeping its hard-made pile of debris away from the treacherous mop.
Hermione's giggles only spurred the terrified broom on. It speed up its frantic sweeping and ran smack dab into the bucket making it quiver dangerously. The broom jumped and struggled to cover the dust from the threat of splashed water. Hermione, taking pity on the old broom's distress pointed her wand at its heavily guarded treasure. The pile disappeared with a crackle and the broom seemed to sag in relief.
"Well done, broom." She thanked it politely. "Now back to the corner, please."
The broom shuffled back to its corner, now devoid of its earlier arachnid weavings, and settle comfortably back into its nook. Hermione murmured the proper incantation under her breath and the magic that had served to animate the wooden broom disappeared, leaving the broom an ordinary inert object.
She turned back to the room to find that the bucket, growing bored with its forced immobility, had returned to its careless trek around the cabin; much to the mop's annoyance, as it now had to chase down the bucket each time it needed to rewet itself. Sparing the poor disgruntled mop a sympathetic look she turned back to what remained to be done.
"Oh, no. This bed won't do." She muttered to herself. With a wave and a tap of her wand the pillow beneath her rose into the air. Pulling her legs into a cross-legged position atop the levitating cushion, she re-situated herself and lifted her wand. A sweeping wave of her hand lifted the comforter up off her bed. Invisible hands worked to untangle the mass of fabric even as her wand directed her sheets up into the air.
She sighed softly and an unseen wind swept up her covers twisting them in blurred patterns unable to be followed by the human eye. Her wand tip bobbed and the wind dropped away. Her sheets flung themselves higher and snapped loudly as the magic pulled them straight. With another flick of her wand she left her sheets to drift lazily back down upon her bed and turned to other tasks.
The magically-levitated cushion drifted into the middle of the room, and Hermione laughed to see the mop nervously slide out from underneath her shadow. As her wand hand finished making her bed her left snapped its fingers at the opposite end of the room. In response, the changing screen rattled and folded shut with an audible bang revealing the piles of clothes it had been shielding from view.
Hermione's disgusted face was matched with a 'tsk'ing sound at her poor habits. "Back to the suitcases," she decided, turning her wand on the heaps of clothes. Golden dust drifted down atop the objects lifting them up into the air, and as the magic dust brought her clothes to life she aimed her wand at the suitcases stacked against the wall. A murmured summoning spell sent the suitcases toppling onto the floor and caused them to slide across the still-slick wood coming to a stop beneath Hermione's floating throne.
Clicking her tongue against her teeth, the clasps on her bags clicked and undid themselves only seconds before she let out a long hiss of breath; the suitcases unzipped. She flicked her wand forward and the lids flipped open -- just in time. The clothes she had left on their own had begun to dance around her in a large and humorous looking circle. But as she looked up to see a pair of her negligee go spinning around her she decided it wasn't that funny.
She snapped her fingers again to draw her clothes' attention and pointed it down at the waiting suitcases impatiently. Obligingly, her cashmere sweater broke off from the merry-go-round and floated bouncily downwards, trailing the rest of her clothing behind it. Each folded themselves neatly before packing each piece into their own respective baggage.
Suddenly, her bedroom door opened and she was mildly surprised to see Harry step inside. His wide emerald eyes took in the bed neatly tucking the corners of its sheets under, the mop chasing after a runaway bucket, the swirling hurricane of silk and cotton that surrounded Hermione's levitating form and his eyebrows shot up.
"Hermione?" He voiced in disbelief. "What's going on?"
"Just tidying up." Hermione replied, her voice innocent.
"I can see that."
He muttered something about 'crazy women' and stepped into the room. The mop went nuts.
It flung itself at Harry, giving the startled boy a face full of water. It then proceeded to knock its handle painfully against Harry's shins until he stumbled back out into the hallway. Quivering with outrage the mop flicked one last spurt of water at the baffled Gryffindor before it bustled over to clean up Harry's unintended footprints.
Harry looked up at Hermione, who was practically beside herself with laughter, his mouth flapping like a fish. "You're mop is insane!" He shouted.
Hermione managed to subdue her mirth. "I have noticed it's a bit resentful, yes." She teased. "You shouldn't act so surprised – coming in her with your shoes on!"
Harry grumbled and pushed the errant bangs from his eyes, "It wasn't intentional. It's not like I was trying to mess up the floor."
He took a step towards the doorway but was instantly intercepted by the mop. It poked him in the stomach and barred his way looking ready to pounce on its antagonizer.
"Stop mop!" Hermione ordered, pointing her wand at the cleaner. The mop ceased its threatening gestures and fell lifelessly to the floor. Harry let out a sigh of relief before turning an annoyed look at Hermione, innocently dangling her legs in the air.
"And you couldn't have cast a simple cleaning spell, why?" He asked, kicking off his tennis shoes and stepping inside. She shrugged.
"More fun this way." She told him in a cheeky tone. "Besides I haven't done magic for days. I thought I'd practice and get back into the swing of things."
"Only you, Hermione." He said through a chuckle. He walked over to her and smiled up at her levitating form. Reaching up, he grabbed a hold of her cushion and pulled her down to eye-level.
She nudged him in the knee with her toe, "What did you need?"
"I met up with Postvorta as I was leaving the Galley – she said we're nearly there. Krum confirmed it."
Hermione nodded. A wavy lock of cinnamon dropped over her shoulder. "So I heard."
He quirked his eyebrow and took another survey of the room as the various magical tasks completed themselves. "That explains why you've got an entire re-enactment of Fantasia going on in your cabin."
Hermione growled and nudged him a little harder. Harry just laughed, not her planned reaction, and batted her bare foot away. Well, since he didn't seem to mind, she began swinging her legs back and forth like a little girl on a swing. Every time her legs came forward, her feet would knock against his knees and thighs.
He just laughed louder. Hermione assumed it was like Chinese water torture and he'd crack, eventually.
"And how does this involve you floating, Miss Granger?" He asked coyly.
Hermione gave him a withering look that made him feel like he should know the reason. She let out a deep sigh of exasperation as if the answer was painfully obvious. "The floor was being moped, and I couldn't very well make my bed while I was sitting on it, now could I?" She told him in a condescending manor.
He rolled his eyes, "Of course." He muttered sarcastically. "That was the first thing that popped into my mind when I saw you floating on a blooming pillow!"
Hermione laughed and leaned forward to ruffle his raven locks playfully. "Watch your mouth, smart ass." She admonished. "I'm still a prefect ya know, I'll knock your head around so hard house points will start falling out!"
"But you won't 'cuz you love me, right?" he teased.
"You wish," she snorted. Her feet thunked against his leg. He pouted up at her crossing his arms over her knees and resting his chin upon them. Her knees were now digging rather uncomfortably, she imagined, into his chest, and his now-slouched form left her swinging feet hitting thin air. Harry closed his eyes looking, for all the world, as if he was about to take a nap. A comfortable, if awkward looking, silence settled over the pair as Hermione finished orchestrating her clothes and refastened her suitcases.
"Harry," Hermione said. Silence broken, she dropped her hands into her lap.
"Yeah?" He murmured without opening his eyes.
"I just wanted to thank you for the other day. Not many people would stand up to a deity to save their stupid friend who got themselves caught in the first place."
Harry chuckled; a vibration making her legs hum. "First of all, you're anything but stupid. Secondly, if they won't do all that they can to save you they shouldn't call themselves your 'friends'."
She brushed the bangs back from his forehead and smiled softly, "Thank you, Harry." She murmured.
Harry smiled as her fingers grazed his hairline; it seemed Harry liked for his hair to be stroked as well.
"What choice did I have?" He asked, trying to be serious. "It would have been rude to let you go without saying goodbye!"
Hermione's entangled fingers found a lock of hair and tugged. Hard. Harry let out a yelp of surprise and pain.
"Oh, is that the only reason?" She demanded.
He lifted up one of his arms and swatted away at her buried hand. He growled and was rewarded with the release of his hair. "Ow, woman!" He exclaimed rubbing his head. Glancing up at Hermione, he smiled weakly at her stony stare. "Uh, I love you?"
She snorted, "Who doesn't?!" She flicked his bangs back again and after a moment tapped the faint, characteristic scar on his forehead. "Of course, I do have a friend a little different than most."
He drummed his fingers in a rhythmic pattern across her leg, "Yeah, I'm like SuperHarry!"
He jumped – Hermione's sudden and boisterous laughter ringing in his ears. "SuperHarry?!" She managed to sputter. "That's a manly name..."
"Don't get too attached," He muttered lifting his head, "It was a spur of the moment thing."
"I understand." Hermione insisted, punctuated by a solemn nod. She patted his cheek and, without cracking a smile said: "Do you want me to get you some tights?"
The glare Harry turned on her could make and acromantula scurry away in fright, but on Hermione it only made her laugh harder than before.
"No." He said forcefully.
She covered her mouth and placed the hand still holding her wand to her chest. "No? What about...a cape?"
Harry's face softened and took on a thoughtful expression. "Maybe," He conceded. "A nice one."
Hermione's swinging feet connected with Harry's legs as he shifted positions in front of her pillow. "Ok, we'll hook SuperHarry up with a hot new cape." She promised faithfully.
Harry chuckled lightly and absently pulled a loose string from the side seam of Hermione's jeans. "We've been friends for a while now, right?"
"Yes, almost six years now," She tucked her hair behind her ears. "Though, I've heard so many stories and seen all your pictures that it's almost as if I've known you since you were diapers."
Harry laughed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, "Yeah..." He agreed. "And I've had to put up with you just as long!"
Hermione smacked him upside the head, "Ha. Ha. You are oh-so-witty, Harry James Potter." Was her sarcastic reply.
The face Harry made was reward enough; like he'd just stepped in something foul. "The full name?" He groaned, eliciting a small smile from his companion.
"Come on, 'Mione! You know I hate it when you call me that."
She smiled sweetly, "I know."
"That was a low card to play..." He tried his luck at a pout once more, and this time Hermione relented to it; ruffling his hair.
"We have been through a lot together, haven't we..." She mused – thinking back on their earlier strain of conversation.
He dragged a fingernail across the tough denim encasing her legs and created the desired scratching sound, "Yeah, sure have."
"Yes," She scolded. "Yes, not yeah." She told him, with the last word sounding bitter in her mouth. "And don't get me started on the poor grammar the rest of your sentence is filled with."
Harry's expression was weary, but lined with amusement, "Some things never change." He said smiling up at her.
"Like me?" She questioned – intrigued by Harry's claim.
"Like us."
Hermione's eyes glowed softly and Harry wondered what she was feeling. Then she laughed, "I don't think we'll ever change."
Harry's questioning face showed nothing of what was running through his mind. The words echoed in his ears. Emerald eyes, shining with curiosity, looked up at Hermione from her own lap.
"You don't think we'll ever change?"
Hermione missed the tone of his voice and mistook the meaning behind his question. "No, never." She insisted. "We'll always be together, Harry."
Harry smiled. At least that was something.
"I can't just leave you on your own – you're a danger to society."
"What?!" He exclaimed, jumping up.
"I said: 'We'll always be together'," She responded through a grin.
"Yes." He said, drawing out the "correct" term. "Another sweet confession completely overshadowed by your witty and biting remarks."
"Just for you, Harry." She laughed. She brushed her bangs back from her face, making Harry self-consciously swat at his own unruly hair.
"Do you really think we'll be together forever?" He asked jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Hermione scooted forward slightly on her cushion and it sunk a few inches.
"Wild thestrals couldn't drag me away from you." She answered truthfully. "I know you're worried; about me, about the war, but don't be – I'm not going anywhere."
Harry's response was a lopsided grin and he shook his head, "Becoming attached? I expected more from you, Hermione. You're the last person I thought would sink to the status of the crazed "fan-girl."
Hermione scoffed at such an idea, "Attached?! I don't see anything holding us together, do you?"
"Always with your crazy notion of 'logic'," he huffed. "Ya know, some people find that really annoying."
Hermione grabbed a hold of his robes and pulled him closer so that she could better smile into his face. All Harry saw was her soft, coral lips slowly curve upwards revealing startling white teeth, magically resized in their younger school days.
"But you find all my qualities charming and endearing." She insisted.
…full and inviting, shining with a recent goat of gloss. He smelled strawberries...
"Hermione..." Harry whispered.
"Yes, Harry?" Hermione, though perplexed at Harry's odd tone, continued to smile.
A loud, repetitive clicking sound kept Harry from replying. A muted 'THUNK'! The ship pitched forward before slamming to an abrupt stop. Jarred from the sudden change in velocity, Hermione was flung from her perch and straight into Harry.
Her knee connected with his stomach and her elbow with his chest; leaving Hermione relatively unharmed as they toppled to the ground. After her body connected with the hardwood floor, however, that was no longer the case. The only plus side was that she hadn't been in Harry's position.
Her knees ached terribly from where they'd connected with the hard wood and she allowed herself a moment to curse the bruises she knew would appear within the day. Harry groaned beneath her, and Hermione obligingly rolled off to the side, relieving him of her upper body's weight. Hermione opened her eyes as the sound of wood on wood reached her other senses.
The water bucket, though frantically trying to stop its motion, was careening towards them.
"STOP, BUCKET!" She shouted lifting her wand. The bucket slid to wobbly stop, turning precariously around and around on it's bottom rim. Then it tipped over.
Letting out a startled cry, Hermione jumped for her levitated cushion. Fingernails digging into the periwinkle material, she clung as if for dear life to the pillow, looking utterly ridiculous hanging half on-half off as the dirty water rushed just beneath her toes. Harry was not so lucky.
He managed to sit up just as the water surged over his legs, completely soaking his lower body. As the water quickly spread out across the floor leaving Harry sitting in less than a centimeter of water, he slowly looked up at Hermione, "That did not just happen."
Hermione flung her leg over the cushion and scooted around so that she was hanging over the pillow under her stomach. Folding her arms underneath her, she swung her legs idly back and forth above the flooded floor. "Either that or you just had a serious accident that you'll have trouble explaining to your friends once we get off the ship."
Harry made a face, "Ha. Ha." He griped sarcastically, struggling to his feet. His jeans were crinkled and bunched and clung to his legs making it difficult for him too stand. Hermione could scarcely contain her laughter.
Someone was knocking on the door.
"Come in." Hermione called out.
The door swung open identifying Krum as their visitor. He looked down as murky water trickled out into the hallway. He glanced at Harry and then up at Hermione. "Herm-own-ninny?" He inquired. He pulled his wand from inside his robes and cleaned up the mess.
"Hi, Viktor." Hermione replied, sliding off her perch. "Thank you." She added as her bare feet hit the dry floor. Grabbing her own wand, she quickly dried off Harry and banished the bucket back to its corner.
Krum nodded gruffly, "We're here."
As if an alarm had suddenly gone off in their minds, the residents of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were jerked into wakefulness by an unseen force. Blinking blearily in the pre-dawn light they groggily tried to adjust to their sudden change of state. Most just lay in bed trying to figure out what had awoken them; some even tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but that same nagging insistence returned forcing them from their beds. Cursing insomnia or that second helping they knew they shouldn't have eaten the night before, they all pulled themselves from their beds. Finding the rest of their dormitory to be awake as well the puzzled students stumbled into their common rooms all at once. Not a single person remained asleep.
It was then, just as they all started to talk at once, that a loud sound vibrated throughout the castle silencing all within. Dread and confusion filled the half-asleep students and they hesitantly gathered around the windows. As they watched the lake bubble and roll and rise up over the banks, the students scattered – some running for their dormitories, others running out into the hallway trying to get a better view of the scene out on the grounds.
Four monstrous and skeletal ships rose out of the chaotic waters. The sand and muck slurched, the waters sucked, and the unnatural symphony was directed by the animated screeching of the mer. Water dripped off the riggings in torrents that sent giant ripples across the lake surface, wooden boards creaked and groaned as the nippy air assailed their damp surfaces, and bursts of water shot up into the air as a dozen anchors were dropped over the side.
Only one ship remained completely silent, appearing as dead as the ebony wood from which it was fashioned, and no tiny figures appeared on deck.
One of these things is not like the other...
Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's go."
Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she straightened out her outfit while she waited for Harry to banish her cushion back upon her now neatly made bed. She smiled up at him as he walked to her side, "Thank you, Ha-"
"Quiet!" Krum barked, holding up a hand. Hermione's voice died away and she looked up at the older boy expectantly.
"Twelve anchors dropped – that's too many." He told her.
"There's another ship out there?" Harry asked, dreading the answer. Krum nodded quickly lifting his wand.
"Shit!" Hermione cursed, pushing past them and into the hallway. And then they heard what she had. Screams.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted tearing after her. Sprinting to catch up, he managed to grab her arm and pulled her to a stop. The face she turned on him was absolutely terrifying. Brightly blazing eyes sliced straight through his heart. She snarled angrily at him, baring her teeth menacingly and he felt it stop altogether.
Summoning his quickly failing courage, he pulled the gold chain from around his neck, "I'm not going to lose you again, Hermione!" He shouted, quickly fastening it around her throat. He released her and she shoved him off, her sword appearing in her hand.
"Don't let her take you!" He yelled desperately after her as she dashed the final few feet to the hatchway. Sliding into a crouch, her muscles coiled and she jumped straight up as the golden aura around her exploded in a blinding burst of amber light.
Her screams echoed across the grounds as her wings burst forcefully from her shoulder blades and unfurled swiftly turning her gravity-defying leap into flight. The unlucky Death Eater who had been poised to climb into the hold couldn't even scream as her explosive supernova of light touched him. In the span of 1.6 seconds his clothes evaporated, his skin burned away, his muscles melted off his bones, and his writhing skeletal form turned to ash and collapsed into a heap upon the scorched deck.
Members of both schools were pouring onto the decks of the ships as Voldemort's dark warship continued to spew its masked warriors. Shouts and curses mixed together in the roar of battle, as Hermione burst from the belly of the ship killing a Death Eater without lifting a finger. As the Death Eaters saw their prey they became more frenzied as the fought their way to the lead ship.
Rising up into the air, Hermione raised her free hand into the overcast sky. She shouted a spell in an alien language, foreign even to her, and a pink burst of light appeared in her hand. Flinging it downwards the swirling energy separated into multiple entities and spread towards each ship. They enveloped the hatch doors and slammed them shut, fusing them closed with crackling pink energy – keeping the remaining Durmstrangs and Beauxbatons from becoming part of the raging battle.
As the gathered Order moved to aid the students, a faint circle traced its way around them and the pink energy soared upwards trapping them within a dome of magic. Leaving them to their vain attempts to break free, Hermione swooped back down into the fray.
As a Death Eater attempted to jump to her ship he found himself skewered on her glittering sword. Pointing her weapon downwards, she watched with a sickening detachment as his body slid free from her blade and crumpled to the deck. She closed her eyes and turned away from the blood oozing out across the wood.
Don't block it out – don't turn away from your creation. Embrace the power of death you hold and break free from the chains of mortal feelings. Become the warrior.
Hermione's mind began to grow dim, and she felt herself begin to slip away; Hope's laughter shaking her to her core. She looked into the blank eyes of the man she had killed, and fought to feel something at his murder.
His name was Michael Lenning. He had a wife – Christina. She's eight months pregnant.
Hermione tried to block out the voice in her mind. Another Death Eater jumped onto the ship. Lashing out, she kicked him square in the chest mid-leap and he toppled into the churning waters. Screeching merfolk surfaced around him. Hissing angrily and clawing at his body, they dragged him beneath the water.
No more bubbles…
Hermione whirled around to block the rushing killing curse aimed at her turned back. As the wave of green matter hit the flat of her blade, she absorbed it into her body with a sinister smile as she turned the powerful magic into her own arsenal. Blackness crackled around her blade like lightening.
She spun, bring her leg with her and kicking at her attacker's outstretched wand hand with immense velocity and dead-on accuracy. A loud and sickening snapping sound, followed by the sound of wood-on-wood as his wand clattered to the deck, signified that she had broken his wrist, and most likely the majority of the bones in his hand.
His screams of pain only fueled Hope's cries for death. His mask clattered to the ground and he cradled his twisted hand to his chest. Hermione reached out and grabbed the petrified man by the throat. Calling up her recently acquired power, she swung her sword around to point at the black ship.
"Incendio!" She shouted, relishing the surge of power through her body as the warship burst into flames.
"Thank you," She laughed; mocking the death eater, but he couldn't hear her. She had strangled him.
In shock, her fingers released their deadly grip on his throat and she watched the purple-faced man hit the deck. His face was slightly swollen and his bulging eyes looked straight through her. She shivered, the euphoria of destruction quickly ebbing. Her gaze drifted down to his neck. She could see clearly where she had gripped him, the dark bruises standing out against his pale skin. Tiny rivulets of blood seeped steadily from several cuts along the sides of his neck.
Hermione lifted her hand into the sky, and stared at its shaking image – her nails were stained red.
Jason Price. His granddaughter has a brain tumor. He was recruited by Voldemort after he was arrested for threatening a Muggle neurologist to help his granddaughter.
"I can't do this," she whispered taking to the air.
You can and you must.
"Maybe you can, but I'm not letting Hope out again."
Look at the carnage beneath you. You were given the power to fight – if you don't...they die.
"But who am I to say my friends' lives are worth more than people I don't even know."
There's only one thing you need to know in war: who's on your side, and who isn't. Now make the choice – their lives, or your friends'?
Tears streaming down her face, Hermione tucked her wings against her back and plummeted back down to the fight.
REVIEW!
I was writing this over the weekend and when I hit page 26 without a reasonable stopping point in sight I decided to cut it into two chapters. Here's the first part, and when I finished the last part of the other half I'll run on up here super fast. Shouldn't take more than a few days. Much love!
KissThis