Death Sat and Hell Followed

Chapter One: Apocalypse

A piercing shriek wailed through the eerie silence of the battleground, accompanied only two seconds previously by a chant and the sickening sound of body hitting earth. The scream itself was so painful, so heart wrenching, that it was enough to chill anyone's bones. But not that of a monster. Not that of Voldemort.

A small figure fell to her knees in despair, covering her face with bloodied and shaking hands, desperate for the agony to end…desperate for this to be a dream. This wasn't happening…this couldn't be happening…she would wake up soon…but she never did. She faultily dragged her worn hands from her normally pretty face, which was now swept over with a ragged layer of dirt, sweat, and bloodshed.

Her usual glittering brown eyes held nothing, nothing except death and peril entwined inside them forever and for eternity, never leaving, the once-happiness never returning. She stared fearlessly into the face of the murderer who so brutally massacred the only people she had grown to love without a second thought. To him, they were just the next number on his growing hit list. To him, they were but mere checkmarks next to names. Ron and Harry. She could just envision their names on a piece of parchment, the evil laugh echoing inside her brain, ticking off his latest kill.

She would not cry, she was past that. She could not do anything at this point. She didn't even think she could scream, but after that final body fell, she could do nothing else. She had single-handedly watched everyone she had ever loved, everyone she had grown up with, fall to the ground, the light vanishing from their eyes, never to be seen again. It was this final body that wracked her body with more sadness. Not that the others hadn't been painful—they had been excruciating. But she knew she had to grieve later and care for herself and everyone else at that moment instead of dwell. Now, she reflected miserably, she could do nothing.

Her eyelids fluttered, not of fatigue, but of emotional slaying after emotional slaying she had endured. Bitterly, a feeble, nagging thought at the back of her head was telling her that this was far from the life of a normal seventeen-year-old. She couldn't believe there were still people in the world smiling, playing, being happy. Not when there was so much death and despair standing right in front of her—correction, lying right in front of her.

"You…bastard…" she managed, her breath coming in weak but stable. Not leaving his cruel, blood red stare, she stood up, caring not of the ripped, once-white blouse she was wearing, now caked with dried blood, dirt and new grime. She was sickened at the man's smirking, bleached face kicking his latest kill across the face.

"Ah, a survivor," he cackled mercilessly.

She felt the immense anger rising in her, unlike anything she had ever felt before. The adrenaline was rushing through her veins, all senses put on indefinite hold, her vision tunneled onto that one inhuman figure in front of her. "You…will…pay…" she threatened harshly, all of her fury focused in on him.

"Oh, yes, I am so afraid. But what is a small, unimportant Mudblood going to do to me? Me being the all-powerful Dark Lord? I do believe you so intimidate me," he said, his decaying teeth glinting in the dying sun.

Her face became devoid of any emotion once again; not even anger was showing. She vaguely noticed a flicker of intrigue flash in his pupil-less, crimson eyes, but couldn't honestly care less. She could not think well, and she felt as if her brain was both on fire and buzzed at the same time. Her eyes were starting to glaze over, and her limbs seemed to no longer work. Idly, her gaze drifted to the body nearest her. The one of her sometimes dim-witted, but otherwise best friend, Ron Weasley. Her face contorted into one of overpowering pain as she took in his mud-streaked, deathly pale face and flaming red hair.

Even that was fading, though. His green eyes were opened; shocked. His mouth was open slightly in surprise, and she could almost sense the fear radiating off of him in his final moments. He had fought so well. Even their best friend, Harry, was surprised at him. He was selfless, he shot curse after curse, not aware of the consequences. He was just protecting his baby sister when a spiteful laugh came near him. He looked the owner in the eyes, and that was the last thing he saw—the greedy, scarlet eyes of the mass assassin that had ruined all their lives.

"He was just protecting his sister…" she whispered, not aware it was audible.

"So she speaks," the man in front of her mocked.

Now she looked at him, at his pleased face. "HE WAS JUST PROTECTING HIS SISTER!" she yelled, her words reverberating off of the countless bodies scattered over the now red-tinted hill.

"Aww…now that just warms my heart."

"You have no heart! You are a cruel murderer who never should have been born in the first place! You have no part in this world!" she continued, her deathful stare streaking into his. Though in some deep-seeded part of her knew it was impossible, she in that moment felt as if the anger of everyone good who had perished had infused into her body, joining her own.

"Ouch. That hurts, Miss Mudblood. Say, why are you still around, anyway?" he asked, and he would have raised his eyebrows…if he had any.

"Because I'm not fucking afraid of you! Because I am stronger than you in many more ways than one, and because I am a damn good friend, you evil son of a bitch!" she screamed at him, her words piercing the air in every crevice possible.

The savage entity in front of her almost showed amazement in the obviously weakened witch, but did not show it much, if at all. "Congratulations, witch. Is that the first profanity you've uttered in your lifetime? My, my, you have been sheltered."

"Shut up, you foul, sadistic coward! You have no idea the HELL you've put me through! But then again, you get your little laughs out of that, don't you? You get kicks out of other people's pain, don't you? Could that possibly be because your cowardice is too steep to face your own? Hmm? I do not have the strength to give you a psychoanalysis, though you desperately need one. But what are you waiting for? Why don't you just go ahead and kill me? I'll just be a bonus on your Kill Bill knockoff list, won't I? I'll just be your early birthday present, shall I?"

"Oh no, I won't kill you. I want you to live with the 'agony,' as you proclaim. Take a good look, Mudblood. Take a look at the glorious death in front of you. And once you're done with the once-over, tell me and I'll show you this little prize in front of me. Shall I tell you now? It's too good to resist. I have finally killed the famous Harry Potter. The stupid, idiotic little boy who was supposed to be my downfall. Hah! Like they thought an immature minor could really dispose of me just like that? My God, the Ministry's really gone to the dogs, haven't th—"

He was cut off by a particularly gruesome curse she sent after him, hitting him square in the chest. "That is for Harry, you sick asshole! And this—Sectumsempra!—is for Ron! And, lastly, Voldemort, I would like you to eat your own words…AVADA KEDAVRA!" she shouted as loud as her shredded vocal cords were able, as if willing the whole world to listen to her anguished hexes.

However, much to her sorry dismay, he dodged her final Killing Curse at the right moment. Although, with the tiniest bit of gratification, his arm was singed by it, and, as if it were splashed with scalding acid and burned with iron, his skin turned a sickly red-and-brown color, dormant bubbles under the surface. She cringed in spite of herself, but was also, frankly, pissed off that he did not die as she wished. She mentally apologized to Harry and she promised she would kill the man that apocalypsed her whole life.

"You…bitch!" Voldemort cursed, and for the first time since Hermione had ever heard of him, he actually portrayed emotion, anger as it were.

Shit, she thought to herself, I've pissed of the Dark Lord…not good.

"Ouch. That hurts, Mr. Hellfire. I'm so frightened of you." Truth was, she was in some ways, not that she'd let him know. He shot a hex at her, but she ducked just in time. "That's the best you have? You are seriously overrated, my dear," she said in a mock-baby voice.

At the onslaught of a particularly brutal curse, she hid behind a tree, fingering the necklace she had. "Is this where it will end? Is this where I am to die?" she said softly to herself, the severity of her situation finally kicking in. "Well, I can't stay in hiding forever. I will avenge you, Harry. I will avenge all of you!"

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" she heard his out of breath voice call to her.

"My name is Hermione Granger, you killed my friends, prepare to die…YOU BASTARD!"

She once again aimed the Avada Kedavra at him, and this time, in the split second it took for him to snap his head to look at her, it was a split second too late. The fiery green jet of light originating in her wand entered him straight in the heart, the evil light vanishing from his fathomless eyes. She stood, her hand outstretched, shocked as she witnessed his chalky body fall to the ground, bent out of shape, but joining the endless mortality count nonetheless. She could not believe it. His reign of terror had ended, bringing with it an almost…peaceful silence. She had sought and found the murderer that killed everyone she knew and slain him. She killed Lord Voldemort.

Still in shock and walking in a trance-like state, she made her way over to the milky white corpse of the once-powerful Lord Lucifer. With her blood-dripping shoe, she kicked his head over to one side, just to make sure he was dead. After all, if one baby wizard could survive the Killing Curse, who's to say the most "successful" Dark Wizard couldn't? He didn't stir. His chest didn't rise and fall like someone who was alive would have done. His open, scarlet-but-now-fading eyes were still, and as she bent down and pressed her fingers to his impossibly frigid neck, there was no heartbeat whatsoever. It certainly seemed like he was dead forever.

Slowly, her joints screaming in protest, she got up from the ground, taking in the gruesome surroundings. The sun was setting, its pink and orange colors shining over the battlefield, shimmering of the coppery, sticky blood that littered the grassy floor. She gazed into it, and watched until she saw the mythological green flash as it set over the horizon. Her eyebrows rose feebly as she witnessed that miracle, and somehow, some way, she believed that the threat was finally over. It just seemed anticlimactic, she supposed. Harry was the one who was supposed to defeat the Dark Lord, not his know-it-all friend! She didn't understand it.

Suddenly, she felt a freezing hand close around her neck, and her heart started racing as her eyes widened. No, she thought, it can't be…he's dead! I killed him!

"Clever little witch, aren't you. Too bad you only killed my Horcrux, bitch!" he whispered scathingly into her ear.

She closed her brown eyes in realization. Of course. His seventh and final bit of soul…it means he's mortal now, but then again…he is the one with the power to end my life right now, and I can't do anything about it. Fantastic.

"Kill me, Voldemort, I don't care. You can't hide anymore. You're mortal! You'll be found! You're not going anywhere! But if you'd like to continue your massacre here, go ahead…add me to your final body count. At least I will die in the honor that I killed you. That your stupid, nine-lives imitation is finally defeated. That you are defeated!"

With her final ounces of strength, she elbowed him where any male human being would hurt, and then kicked him in the chest, sending him stumbling a few steps back. He stared at her. "Nice parlor trick, Mudblood. I commend you."

"Sure you do. And, by the way? That whole 'Mudblood' thing? Getting old, Voldie, getting old. With your inflated head, I assume you can come up with something cleverer? Or were Mudblood and bitch the only two you could think of? Sad, really."

He sent a death glare at her, but she visually deflected it, her neutral stare killing the overall effectiveness of his. "You think you can outsmart me? It is true, I do applaud you for your killing my final soul, but that doesn't change the fact that I am not only almost thirty years older than you, but I have thirty years more experience than you. You have no idea who you're dealing with."

"Oh, sure I do. The ever-powerful Dark Lord whose mother died in childbirth and whose father left her because he was under a love potion, leaving the young and stupid Tom Riddle at an orphanage…an outcast but teacher's pet at Hogwarts, killed Myrtle, came to power and tried to kill Harry but it rebounded and but he had split his soul seven ways, yadda yadda yadda…" she recited in a bored, monotonous voice.

His dulled eyes narrowed in fury, and his abnormally long, white fingers tightened around his wand. "You'll pay for that."

"Why?" she asked tonelessly. "Why? What does it matter? It's all true, you know it, I know it, lots of people know it. Everyone felt sorry for you except for Dumbledore, isn't that right? And you turned evil because you were—well, are—a coward. Same story for every evil being that has come to sovereignty. And you'll fit the same, sticking end."

"Oh I will, will I?"

"Yep," she replied, faking happiness.

"You know what, I've changed my mind."

"Oh?"

"I will kill you."

"Now I feel special. How should I pose? Afraid of you, I assume? Or should I die gallantly, with a mock heroic expression on my face? Really, how would you like me?"

"You dare mock me now, witch? When I have the upper hand?"

"Ah, so he does add a word to his vocabulary. Witch. How exciting."

His eyes flashed, almost literally red, as he raised his wand. His anger level rose as he watched her idly fidgeting with her nails, her total focus all on them. He had no choice, he reasoned. He was weakened, and he acknowledged it. He'd have to kill her. "Avada—"

It was as if she was watching and listening to the scene in slow motion. She noticed his colorless lips forming the Killing Curse, his words slowed and tunneled in her ears. Indolently, but quickly and for no apparent reason, her hand moved again to the odd necklace she wore. She toyed with it in the mere nanoseconds she possessed before the curse hit her, and to her unwilling and unnoticing surprise, she had accidentally turned the dial on her Time Turner backwards instead of forwards. It was not supposed to work that way; it was only meant to be turned forwards.

Her eyes widened as she flicked her gaze up to him, only to see his surprised expression turning into an angry one, his wand backing down, and his lips forming odd words, as if speaking them backwards. As she watched the scene before her, she observed the battle taking place, but the kills were now in reverse order. She saw Voldemort cackling over Harry, then Mrs. Weasley killed, then Ginny, then Ron…she lost track of all the bodies that fell to the now brightening earth. Finally, she succumbed to the numbness but nauseas feeling in her stomach, and she felt herself passing out. Or, at least, she assumed that's what happened.

In what seemed like hours, she felt as if she was being sucked out of a vacuum, and she plummeted towards a grassy earth below her. Apathetically, she thought, this is going to hurt.

And, indeed, it did. She crashed to the ground on her hands and knees, though her already fragile bones gave in to the renewed force. She felt her carpals break, and she crumpled beneath herself, her knees feeling bruised, cut up, and now fractured. She hit her head hard on a rock, and she could vaguely feel the blood trickling down her face before her vision this time really did go black.

This idea somehow just came to me, and the James/Hermione pairing was requested to me by my favorite author (you know who you are), and so this will eventually fall under that category. PM me with any suggestions, complaints, comments, whatever. By the way, I love reviews if y'all want to drop by and give me some. =)