Disclaimer: I do not own Harry potter or the True blood series/ Southern Vampire mysteries- All rights reserved to those whom own each of the series ( J.K Rowling and Charlaine Harris.)

Warning- Contains mature content which includes foul language, violence and sexual content. There also may be some spoilers for the HP and True blood series.

This fan fiction is mostly going to follow the True blood timeline and will be mostly based on this timeline with certain dates in the Harry Potter series changed to match the dates.

A:N Big thanks to my beta TheMisfitToy who had made sure this story is readable

They had lost.

The war did not end at the grounds of Hogwarts the way it should have, with good triumphing over evil. Everyone living happily ever after like in the fairy tales told to children. But life is not a fairy tail its hard and filled with pain and darkness that can outshine the happiest of memories.

Life is not easy and never can be, so why should war be? Why would good triumph over evil when they pinned all their hopes on a seventeen year old boy that without his best friend would have flunked out of school.

So no, the light lost when Voldemort's killing curse hit Harry Potter, the saviour of the light, making his form crumple on the to the blood covered grounds of the school he once thought of as his home.

His gaunt figure covered in blood, sweat, tears and mud. His once brilliant green eyes wear staring lifelessly into the night sky. With him the light lost its hope, they knew that this time it was different to the last time. He was not coming back. And for good measure the Dark lord sent a powerful slicing curse at his neck, causing the raven haired teens head to roll down the grounds of Hogwarts.

It did not take long for the Death eaters to gather the rest of the students , teachers and resistance members, they were in shock to caught up in the death of their saviour to put up a fight until it was too late.

They were pushed to their knees in the destroyed courtyard of the once magnificent school. At the front of the resistance where the other two thirds of the Golden Trio.

A boy no older than seventeen, called Ron. He had vibrant ginger hair,that was always associated with his family, that reached his shoulders matted with dirt. His stature was gaunt, looking like he had lost too much weight too fast, leaving his cheeks hollow and his brilliant blue eyes sunken into his skull.

He was too pale to be healthy, and what could be seen of his skin, under the blood covered clothes, was covered in blood and dirt. His eyes that where the colour of the ocean were devoid of all life as he stared at the remains of the boy that he had been in love with since third year.

Next to him was a girl not much older than him. She had too had lost too much weight too fast, leaving her features sunken and hollow. Her hair was a mass of unruly curls in a deep chocolate brown with natural blonde highlights covered in grime and pulled in to a ponytail.

Her skin was pale and covered in scars, the most noticeable were the one's on her neck, which looked like someone had tried to slice her throat, while the second was on her arm, where the word MUDBLOOD had been crudely carved in to her pale skin.

It was a brand of her unworthiness as a witch, the Dark Lord and his followers thought that she was weaker than them all because she had no magical family.

Her eyes though were so unlike the others in the courtyard that it took the Dark Lord by surprise, because even though blood slid down her arms and soaked the cloth material of her once white tank top, and her face twisted with fluctuating pain. Pain of her torture a week prior and loosing the boy she thought of as a brother, the defiant stance and angry crease through her forehead indicated that she wasn't about to go down without a fight.

It made the Dark Lord curious, he knew who she was. Potter's Mudblood, she was regularly called the Brightest Witch of Her Age and praised for her intelligence, but as the Dark Lord stared into her caramel brown eyes he saw that intelligence but what he saw more of was power, raw and undiluted power and that made him nervous.

More so than the Potter boy had, because even though the boy was powerful he lacked the intelligence to use it correctly. He was too hot headed. Too much of a Gryffindor for his own good and that was what had gotten him killed in the end.

But as he looked at the girl kneeling at his feet he saw a real enemy someone that could potentially kill him.

He had heard many things from his followers, especially from the Malfoy heir. She was intelligent. She was powerful. And she was cunning like any Slytherin should be. And had the bravery of the lions.

Dolohov had ranted for weeks after the ministry fiasco about how she had survived his signature curse.

She was the only person to ever live through that curse. It did not matter that the curse was done silently, she still should not have survived, it should have burned her from the inside out killing her in seconds.

Yet here she sat, the fire in her eyes not extinguished by the piles of dead bodies surrounding her, the stench of burning flesh that hung in the air, not even his boisterous followers loudly celebrating their win was enough to crush that look.

The Dark Lord looked up from the younger witch dismissing what he thought about her, she was a worthless mudblood and he was the Heir of Slytherin and the now ruler and Lord of the British Wizarding Community, and soon to be Lord of Wizarding Europe also, and they did not have time to duel with Mudbloods with fire in their eyes, she would die soon anyway.

And so by turning his back, to address his followers, he did not see the girl he dismissed so easily because of her blood, pull out a knife and he did not feel it until it plunged into his back piercing his body.

The knife met flesh, soft and pudgy, and made a satisfying squish as the tip of the blade sank deep enough to make the dark Lord scream.

Hermione twisted the blade in her dainty palm, all the while sinking it deeper and deeper. His pale reptilian skin was tearing to shreds as the knife rotated, the sound of his muscles and nerves being cut growing louder, as the cheers of his followers were silenced as they all watched in morbid fascination as the Dark Lord was killed in a muggle fashion by a Muggleborn witch.

The Order watched her with eyes that were filled with glee as they saw the brightest witch of her age kill the Dark Lord with a knife she was given by her muggle parents .

Death eaters eyes were filled with disbelief as they watched their Dark Lord scream, like he had made them do so many times.

Then, without warning, Hermione forced the knife all the way into the Dark Lords back, until the shiny metal had disappeared inside his cold colourless skin and the black and silver engraved handle was pushing against his flesh

Voldemort's cry was a brilliant sound, guttural chokes mixed with an agonised roar. The younger witch smirked a vicious smirk, and pulled the blade out.

The Dark Lord sank to his knees into the mud and blood of the battlefield , continuing to scream, convulsing and trembling like a rabid animal as thick black blood flowed freely from the gaping hole in his back.

It was over quickly, he fell head first into the mud and it was not long before his body disintegrated, floating into the atmosphere.

And with that the war was over, or so they all thought.

It happened so quickly that she did not understand what happened. One moment she was basking in the fact that she had done it, she had killed Voldemort. She had finished the war, she had done it for Harry, Fred, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore and all the others that had died in the battle.

Her heart was breaking for the people that had fallen in a war caused by a mad man. But she was happy for a single second thinking that the war was over. But then it happened Ron fell from next to her, no one had touched him but he was bleeding, from his eyes, mouth, nose and ears.

Hermione rushed to him, pulling his head in to her lap, cradling him whist checking his pulse and she sighed in defeat when she felt that there was no pulse. Feeling her eyes well up with tears as she stared into the cold unblinking dead eyes of her best friend, her brother in all but blood. Her body was racked with great sobs that shook her frame making her gasp for air.

Some time later when she had cried all the tears that she could possibly cry she noticed it. Everyone was dead. No matter their gender, their age or what side they were on they had fallen to the ground and bled from all their orifices and then they had died.

Everyone she cared about what dead.

She was alone. Surrounded by death.

She could not understand it, she was not supposed to be alive, that much was clear. Why would everyone else die but her. Harry was supposed to be here, he was always supposed to survive with Ron at his side. It was always Harry and Ron or Ron and Harry.

The world saw them as best friends thinking that she and Ron would get together and Harry would get with Ginny. But that could not be farther from the truth.

Ron and Harry have Loved each other from sixth year but kept their feelings hidden, with Lavender Brown and Ginny. One the run , they had to admitted that they loved each other as more than friends and that they were gay.

They planned to spend the rest of their lives together and have a family even to go so far as to ask her to carry their child. It kept Ron and Harry sane to talk about the future, it made their eyes light up and made them hope that they would survive the war and have a life outside fighting megalomaniacs.

They were meant to be here not her. She should have died instead.

Taking a deep breath and dropping a light kiss on her brother in all but bloods forehead and closing his eyes. He would at least be with Harry now. She put his head back on to the ground and apparated away, not being able to bare the thought of seeing the people she loved dead whilst she survived.

She needed answers.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO Harry Potter - True Blood OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It had taken four months for her to find the answer, she had gone to Grimmauld Place to look over the extensive dark magic books in the Black family library which was made easier, since the wards that Professor Mcgonagall put up to keep the dark books separated had fallen when she died with the rest of the order at Hogwarts.

It had taken extensive researching and hardly any sleep but she had found it in a book over a thousand years old and written in Coptic runes, which had taken her another solid month to translate to Latin and then a further two weeks for that to be translated into something she could read.

'Goddess Hecate, Hear my plea. Give all witches and wizards death

With my life I curse them

Make them die in pain as I die

Take their magic and make them pay for my death

I give you the gift of the dead

Rule them

I give this sacrifice for the life I have lost

Punish them'

So mote it be.

The curse was an old and ancient one that when paired with the goddess summoning spell had to be fulfilled, once summoned Hecate had to grant the summoner one wish.

Voldemort had wished for all the magical people to die when he did. It seemed that he did not want the light to win at any cost and so had tied his life to the curse and to all those with magic in their blood.

Magical creatures were different, they had different forms of magic from witches and wizards, which did not help her understand why she was alive. For as far as she was concerned she was witch and was not a magical creature.

But then again, she could not remember anything from the before the age of five, her parents said that she got into a car accident and lost her memory.

She needed to know what happened during the first five years of her life, and so she begun researching again.

For a memory finding spell.