Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER!

Warnings: Character death, suicide, violence, and drug addiction.

Authors Note: I don't know what made me think of this. It just kind of evolved from the first sentence. Still I hope you all like it. It's a lot different from my other story and not something I ever thought I'd write, but there you are. Enjoy.

The Death of a Traitor

Slowly Harry moved down the street. With his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on the ground he wove his way through the passersby. Just a little longer and it would be over. A little more time and he could finally rest. Coming to a stop he looked around. Casually he headed towards a side alley.

Reaching it he slipped into the shadows and crouched behind some garbage cans. Good, he was here first. Checking his gun he looked at his watch. Seven minutes. Seven minutes and she would be here, like always.

He had spent months tracking her. Months. First following her from city to city till she settled on San Diego. Then he had to learn her ritual. He knew it know. He had known it for weeks. Still he hadn't made a move. He didn't want to make a mistake. He couldn't make a mistake. Who knew what would happen if he failed. Again.

He had been hasty last time. Sure of himself. Anger had clouded his senses and he could still taste his victory from Voldemort. He was sure he would taste it again soon. Along with the even sweeter taste of revenge.

How hard could it be after all? He knew her inside out. He had lived, laughed, and cried with her for seven years. Seven precious years. It was over now though. Last time he had made mistakes. This time he hadn't. Hopefully. No. No second-guessing. He had a job to do and he had to do it. If he stopped to think about it he might give up. That was one thing he couldn't do. Soon. Soon now. He had come here to kill. To kill a friend. To kill a death eater. To kill a traitor. Soon. Very soon.

Suddenly there was movement at the mouth of the alley. That would be her supplier. He was always here first. Her addiction made this all the easier. Her addiction to that bag of white powder. Every week the two people met and exchanged. Money for drugs. Drugs for money. The irony of it was enough to make him grin. The last death eater, addicted to a muggle drug. She had come from muggle roots and had done her best to discard them, to leave the muggle world behind and pretend it didn't exist. She had killed her parents. Joined a muggle killing madman. And she would die a muggle. Living in a muggle town, addicted to a muggle drug, and killed by a muggle weapon.

The movement came again as his target stepped into the shadows. Calmly he watched as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer alley light. Slowly she moved forward, careful to avoid the garbage littering the ground.

The exchange was made and her supplier left. Good. Sometimes he hung around to chat. He didn't want that today. He wanted to do this privately.

She sat down on a turned over box and pulled out a cigarette. Stuffing the cocaine into a pocket she lit her cigarette and took a drag. Slowly and silently he stood up and pointed his gun at her relaxed figure.

"Hermione," he said calmly.

She whirled around and stood up. Dropping the fag on the ground she crushed it with the heel of her boot.

"Harry," she replied. Then she sighed. "Ahh I knew you'd catch up sooner or later. Planning on killing me the muggle way? How crude. You know as well as I that if you fire that everyone will hear. The police will come running. Life in jail you know. Is that really how you want it to end? Don't you think you've humiliated me enough? I've suffered enough. I already live in a muggle city, I can't use any magic for fear of discovery, and I'm addicted to muggle drugs. How much lower can I sink? Kill me. I don't care. I'll be dead. You'll just spend the rest of your life in prison."

"You'll never have suffered enough. Never. You will die today. One way or another. Life in prison? I doubt it. I have orders from both the muggle and magic ministers ordering me to hunt you down and kill you. Prison. I think not." He smirked at her pale face. She had been bluffing. "However, I am not a death eater. I'm going to give you a way out, other than being shot." He watched, disgusted, as she dropped to her knees.

"Thank you, oh thank you Harry! Whatever you want me to do. Anything. I-I'll be your servant. I'll serve faithfully I-I…" she couldn't seem to get out the words.

"Get up," Harry snapped at her, "Get up! You're not going to be my servant. You're either going to be shot by me or," he tossed something at her feet, "you're going to take that knife and kill yourself. It's up to you."

"You, you wouldn't!" she gasped.

Harry just stared at her impassively. "Make your choice."

Slowly, as Harry knew she would, she bent down and picked up the knife. Death eater to the core she wouldn't give Harry the satisfaction of killing her. This way, also, she assumed, the ministry would never get her body. Harry would leave it their and when the local authorities found her they would write it off as a suicide. And she was right. Harry would leave. The ministry wouldn't get involved, and it would be over. Just a quite little affair between old friends. Ex-friends.

Taking the dagger she turned away so her back was to Harry. Still her movement told what she was doing. Quickly she slashed both her wrists before sheathing the dagger in her chest.

He turned away so he wouldn't see her fall. Wouldn't see the lifeblood run out of her body. Wouldn't see the last moments of a friend who he had confided in. A friend who had understood him. And a friend who had betrayed them. Betrayed him. She had betrayed so many. Ron, Ginny, George, Charlie, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Dobby. So many friends. Lost.

Turning around finally he bent over her cold, still form. He let his fingers search for a pulse. Almost hoping he would find one. Hoping the girl he had loved like a sister would be able to live again. But there was no pulse. Her heart no longer beat, her blood no longer flowed. She was dead.

Placing a kiss to her forehead he erased any signs that their had been a third person in the alley. As he reached the mouth he turned one last time.

"Rest in peace Hermione."

Authors Note: This is a one shot. There will be no more. None. You could still review though. Please.