Disclaimer : I am just playing in the magical wizarding world. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
A/N: This begins during the final battle. This is a plunny I've given life to, and so far it's a one shot. I'm not sure if anything else will come of it. If you're interested more, please drop me a line and let me know. Enjoy! See below for some mood music. -VerdeVeritas
"The Battle Cry" – Imagine Dragons
"You Want A Battle? (Here's a War)" – Bullet For My Valentine
It was chaos. The smell of blood permeated the air. Screams and grunts when someone succumbed to a curse, a hex, or their immediate death for failing to throw up a shield quickly enough. Hermione was no stranger to pain, and she was accustomed to living in filth having spent the better part of the last year on the run living in a tent. She had never imagined this. She never wanted to imagine this. She'd seen war movies before she'd come to Hogwarts. She'd watched them on Friday nights with her Dad, because he loved them and she was happy to spend time with him. They didn't prepare her for this. This was chaos.
Hermione was flanked by Ron and Luna, trying to make their way to through the castle. She knew they had to kill the snake. The damn thing needed to die, or Tom motherfucking Riddle never would. Hermione knew Harry would do whatever he had to, and that was terrifying. She knew he would die to kill the murderous bastard who had ended his parents' lives, the cause of his godfather Sirius' death, the reason Tonks and Remus were dead now, too. He would do anything and everything to avenge them. He would fight to the end to make sure Dumbledore hadn't died in vain finding those fucking Horcruxes. She had to get to him before he did something stupid, like confront the snake-nosed bastard before Nagini was dead. She had to, had to, had to.
Spurred on by fear and anxiety, Hermione tugged Ron and Luna along with her, casting shield charms every which direction. The three of them operated well together having spent time in the D.A., and they watched one another's backs. They made their way through the courtyard, finding a grouping of rocks to settle behind while they caught their breath. It was a long way to the Forbidden Forest, and they wouldn't have much cover.
"Luna, watch our backs yeah? I need to heal these before we try to run for it," Hermione commanded.
"I've got you," Luna replied, immediately turning to keep eyes on the battleground around them. Her soft and lilting voice held none of the musical notes she was so used to, and it was disconcerting.
Hermione took Ron's arm in hers and healed the burns with some dittany from her beaded bag. He'd been clipped by an incendio he hadn't been able to deflect. "Thanks, Hermione," Ron grunted. He turned to help Luna.
Hermione pulled up her jumper to reveal her stomach. The curse scar left by Dolohov was still red and angry, and Hermione doubted it would ever be anything else. She skipped over it with her eyes, not wanting to remember that night. She didn't have time. She applied some bruise salve to her ribs where she'd been hit with some falling rubble from a bombarda. She'd managed to shield herself from the majority of it, else she'd have been dead already. She cast a diagnostic spell over the three of them. Aside from minor scrapes, Hermione was the only one in poor shape. She had three broken ribs. Quickly, she cast a brackium emendo to slot her ribs back into place and cast a stamina charm on all three of them before affirming they were ready to go.
None of them had had much sleep in months, and the stamina charm was a necessity at this point. They had a long way to go if they were going to catch up with Harry before the tosser got himself killed for no purpose.
"Alright, we're good to go. Let's get a move on before we're surrounded by Death Eaters. Voldemort said he would keep them off Hogwarts grounds, but I don't trust the fucker," Hermione said acerbically. She wouldn't put it past Moldy Shorts to have this Death Eaters come into the castle and kill them all in cold blood if he managed to kill Harry. They had to go.
Taking their cues from Hermione, Ron and Luna stood when she did. "Disillusion yourselves. It might give us a better chance of getting into the Foreset," Hermione ordered. With a quick nod of affirmation, all three of them were mostly invisible to the naked eye. They stayed together with a tethering charm, so they could easily feel one another even though they couldn't see.
Hermione lead them to the Forest without incident, and she negated her charm. The others followed suit. She and McGonagall decided it would be best if they went searching in teams of three, to make it harder to be caught. Hermione cast a silencing and featherweight charm on their three sets of feet before deciding to go further into the forest. It would be best if they were able to sneak up on the psychopath and his sycophants, maybe they'd be able to get close enough to kill the snake.
They snuck quietly on high alert through the underbrush of the Forest. Unfortunately, it wasn't just insane murders they had to be on the lookout for here. All manner of creatures in the forest wouldn't balk at doing them harm, and they really didn't need the extra hassle right now. They were busy enough without having to contend with a troop of acromantulas or centaurs. Hermione was moving forward solely on instinct, and more than once her instincts had lead her to the best possible answer. That was not true today. After about ten minutes of searching for Harry, the trio stumbled into a copse with seven Death Eaters waiting for their Lord's orders.
"Fuck!" Ron hissed.
They immediately jumped into action, casting any and all curses, hexes, and enchantments they could think of against the Death Eaters. They fought hard, and they were better. The problem with using children to fight a war was the opposing soldiers knew more and had more experience than they did. Hermione reflected she often bitched about this exact thing to Moody, pointing out that no matter how they tried to protect the students of Hogwarts there would come a time when they would inevitably need to fight, and they would be woefully unprepared. She hated it when she was right. They should have been taught to defend themselves better. They should have taken proper dueling classes. They shouldn't have had to die because of the politics of tired men and the insanity of zealots.
Hermione, Luna, and Ron stayed back to back, throwing everything they could at the Death Eaters before them. Hermione took down two before she saw green light fly towards Luna's back, and she hadn't even thought about jumping in front of it to protect the witch. She knew she would die, but she didn't have time for a shield. Without thinking, Hermione Granger ended her own life in an attempt to save that of her friends. At least they'll have one another, was all she could think before the Avada hit her in the side, and she blacked out.
Hermione didn't die immediately, she could hear snippets of voices, though they sounded as if they were underwater.
"…must have been wandless…"
"Does that mean…"
"No, I'm sorry…"
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S NOTHING?"
"I'm so sorry…"
Hermione roused a little more when she heard singing. It was a sweet melody, and she could feel warmth enveloping her. It's okay, that's okay. I can go now. I can stop fighting. I can't do anything else, and Hermione's consciousness faded to black again.
When Hermione woke, she was extremely disoriented. Why am I awake at all? She struggled out of the bed in a room she didn't recognize. It was definitely not a hospital. There wasn't an acrid smell of death and detergent in the air which always accompanied a hospital or infirmary. There was no decay in the air, no feeling of grief hanging about like a ghost threatening to suffocate her.
She struggled to a bathroom, desperately needing the loo. The lights came up as soon as she entered, and Hermione found the water closet. Relieved, she went to wash her hands. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, stopping cold.
She didn't recognize this person. It was her, but it was not her at all. She recognized her face, and her eyes. She was wearing a silk chemise in the deepest green, which complemented her warm skin and chestnut hair wonderfully. Her hair was not the usual rat nest she had become accustomed to seeing. Gone was the frizzy, bushy mess, replaced with sleek, healthy ringlets falling down past her waist to tickle the tops of her bum.
"What is that!?" Hermione whisper shrieked to no one. She turned halfway in the mirror to get a better look. She found a tattoo of a phoenix beginning on her shoulder and gracefully slinking to her should blade and across her back. The phoenix's head sat on her shoulder, looking at her in the mirror just as surely as she looked at it. Hermione frowned, not understanding anything.
Hermione died in the final battle, or at least she thought she had. What had happened, and how did she end up in Malfoy Manor of all places? She had not recognized it, at first. The dingy and cloying air of death and Dark magic was missing, and the Manor felt lighter and airier than she had ever personally witnessed. As she ventured out of the bedroom she'd awoken in, clad in a dressing gown and padding on bare feet, she came to recognize the architecture she'd seen only once before.
Hermione wandered through the hall, looking for anyone who might explain how she'd come to be here. No one she knew would have brought her to Malfoy Manor…not since the Drawing Room. She looked down at the ugly scar scrawled across her forearm; "Mudblood," and suppressed a shudder. You can do this, you can be here long enough to find out what happened. You can find out what happened to Harry and everyone else and then you can leave. It's okay, you can do this.
So lost in thought, Hermione hadn't realized her feet were chasing the sounds of voices, seeking them out with so many questions whirring in her mind and on the tip of her tongue that she'd no hope of articulating them all. She was around the corner, the voices had gotten louder. It sounded like a man, and a little boy? What?
Hermione rounded the corner to see none other than Draco Malfoy, and a toddler around four years old with blond curly hair in the sitting room. It looked like they were playing a game with stuffed toy dragons Malfoy was hovering in the air for the tot.
"What the fuck?!" Hermione hissed through her teeth.
"Hermione, love? Are you alright? It's half ten, you never sleep that late!" Draco Malfoy sounded concerned, and he called her love. Draco fucking Malfoy was calling her love?
Malfoy finally turned to look her full in the face, and took in her state of shock. She was dishevelled, and out of sorts. Her usually soft chocolate eyes narrowed at him with suspicion and fear, and they kept darting past him to the little boy.
"Are you quite alright? Do I need to call the healer?" Draco questioned, his deep voice was laced with concern. A concern Hermione Granger had never heard in her life.
"Why the he- why am I here, Malfoy?" Hermione took into account there was a child in the room. Nevermind it was Draco Malfoy's child, she would watch her language. She watched Malfoy's face fall, fear and concern replacing the slight smile he might have had moments ago.
"Scorpius, please go with Winky for a little while, okay son?" Seemingly from nowhere, an elf popped into existence. Once the little boy was safely away from them and in the elf's care. Draco began to speak.
"Hermione, you're my wife. What do you mean, why are you here? Have you had another relapse?"
"No. NO! No, no, no, no. That can't be right, that can't be. What have you done? What did you do? Why am I here?! Where's Harry?" Draco took a step towards Hermione, who was shaking her head. She had tears falling down her face, and he didn't think she knew she was crying. Hermione leaped back, shaking her head in disbelief. She was gasping for air, she was going to pass out if she wasn't careful. Draco had become used to seeing her panic attacks, but this was something else. He had never seen her like this before.
"Love, love look at me! Look at me! You're okay, you're safe here. It's okay!" Draco stepped forward slowly, hands up in supplication trying not to spook her. She was hiccoughing now, muttering something under her breath that didn't make any sense. He couldn't make it out, he couldn't get near her. Usually, when this happened he was the only one she would let near her.
"Tilly!" he called. The elf popped in next to him, took one look at her Mistress, and snapped her fingers. Hermione began to fall to the floor, now unconscious thanks to the elf's magical ability to cause sleep. Draco cast a quick cushioning charm to catch her, before addressing the elf.
"Tilly, go to Potter Manor and collect Harry. Then go to St. Mungo's and have a Healer brought here. Tell them only that Hermione needs them," he ordered. Draco levitated Hermione into their bedroom and tucked her in. Dreading what would happen if she woke to find him near her, he pulled a chair up at the end of the bed to keep an eye on her in case she should wake.
"What the fuck is going on?" he asked himself in irritation. He sure as fuck didn't know. Hermione hadn't been this bad since right after the war had ended, and even then, she'd always known who he was to her. Hopefully, the Healer's and Harry could help.