Chosen One

The sound of the striking match and the sudden smell of burning sulfur were quickly followed by a faint burning sound and the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. Hermione inhaled deeply and sighed, looking out over the war-torn landscape. She rest her head against the window frame and sighed again before taking another drag.

She blew out the smoke through the open window as she crossed her arms in front of her. It had all been for nothing, she'd realized. Every bit of death, pain, and loss...it was all worthless. With tears in her eyes, she brought the fag back up to her lips and inhaled deeply, wishing the cancerous stick would end her life quickly but knowing that it was highly unlikely.

Magic could cure nearly anything after all.

Taking another drag, Hermione closed her eyes, wishing for the pain to end.

"Why do you insist on smoking those things?" a voice asked from the shadows.

Hermione sighed, blowing the smoke out of her lungs through her nose. "Because you're not here anymore," she said softly. "And the smoking keeps me calm...reminds me of what it used to be...."

"It'll kill you, you know."

Hermione looked out over the sky and saw the faint green glow. "No," she said softly, taking another drag. "They will. After all, they've taken everything else from me, why not take my life as well?"

"You have more on the inside, you know," the speaker said softly.

Hermione shook her head, smoking more of the fag. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I have nothing." She exhaled. "They've taken my parents, my friends, my heart, and my soul. It's a wonder I'm not one of them."

"You wouldn't be stupid enough to do something like that," the person in the shadows said softly.

Hermione chuckled before taking yet another drag. "And yet, here I stand, smoking my life away. No matter where I go, I'll be giving myself a death sentence. I stay here and they kill me, I go and you kill me, I do nothing, and this kills me," she said, looking at the almost-gone cigarette accusingly before she brought it to her lips again. She flicked the fag through the open window and pushed herself away from the window frame. "Or I'll take my life in some other way," she said softly.

"Why?"

"Because I have no reason to live," Hermione confessed, still looking out through the window at the cold, dark night. The green in the distance seemed to light up a part of the sky with its eerie green glow. Hermione knew someone else had been killed tonight.

"You have me," the speaker said, stepping into the light at long last.

Hermione turned towards her. "You're not here," she said again. She shook her head slightly. "You're never here."

The girl sighed as she reached out to brush a lock of Hermione's hair behind her ear. "I am now," she said softly.

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said softly. "No one's here, not anymore."

Lighting up another fag, Hermione walked away.