Burn

Burn

The cold wind sweeped across the city, the ripples of rain splattering on the ground. Need there be much people, for the thunderstorm was awakening once again, lightning growing more thunderous than ever, it's sound booming.

Eighteen year old Hermione Granger watched from the window as this happend, keeping the window a bit open so she could put her hand out and feel the raindrops drown in her hands.

"'Mione, stop being foolish, and close that damn window."

That began the mercy, the pain, and the death of the Wizarding World.

She sighed and obeyed, turning around. Her best friend, Ronald Weasley, watched her as she collapsed in her bed, folding her arms across her chest.

He sat at the corner of her bed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Mione? Are you okay? Should I call the docter?" asked Ron worriedly. His hand was running through his hair in panic. He knew everything was not okay. After Voldemort had risen, Harry Potter and his loyal supporters were in hiding, protecting all muggleborn witches nearby. Hermione was one of their target victims, as she was a mudblood, not to mention, one of Harry's most prized treasures.

"No, Ron. No need. It's the Imperius Curse. I can't seem to fight it anymore..." she croaked, clenching her fists as she bit her lip worriedly. Her voice came out cold, hard, and weak. Her knees swung foward and hit the base of the bed, making her shriek with pain.

"You have to be strong, Hermione. Harry's gone to Bethesda, the small village in London, to get the potion from Severus. He'll be back tomorrow. Just fight it, until then, please, for me?" Ron looked like a cross between hopeful and determince. It made Hermione sick to her stomach, she was about to faint, and he was telling her to be strong. Son of a bitch, she thought bitterly. The curse was already getting to her, and she knew the few seconds she had left to spare, it would be the last precious moments she would ever be herself ever again.

Hermione grinded her teeth, the stinging pain that was surrounding her body hurt so badly that she bit her lip so hard it seeped with blood. Her lungs were breaking slowly within her, she could feel it. Her whole body was shaking, and her teeth were immensely clattering in the cold.

"I can't fight it anymore!" she screamed, her hands pushing Ron away, who fell to the floor in shock.

"Damn you! Can't you understand the kind of pain I am in? What the hell is wrong with you! I am not fighting it, Ron, I am not godamn Harry Potter, okay?"

Ron backed away, his eyes bloating with fear.

Hermione was looking simply horrid, her hair thrown about her face, her face red with anger, and her arms clenched to the side.

"I am sorry, Ron. I love you, so much, your like a brother to me. But if you refuse to kill me yourself, and save myself the misery, then I am so sorry." Her voice was full of warning, praise, and hopelessness. Vurnability grounding against her words.

Those were the last words spoken, before Hermione picked up her wand and acidily pointed at him. Her arm was shaking with nervousness, her heart beating against the brim of her chest, and terror bloating her eyes.

"Hermione, don't do this," Ron pleaded.

Hermione's eyes welled with tears. Pain was surfacing, hardening, pressuring her to continue, as her best friend was on the floor, begging for mercy.

"Avada Kedrava!"

There was a beam of green light striking from the wand, and he lay, emotionless, dead.

Hermione sighed as she felt the pain going away slowly. At least for now.

The cold wind sweeped across the city, the ripples of rain splattering on the ground. Need there be much people, for the thunderstorm was awakening once again, lightning growing more thunderous than ever, it's sound booming.

Eighteen year old Hermione Granger watched from the window as this happend, keeping the window a bit open so she could put her hand out and feel the raindrops drown in her hands.

"'Mione, stop being foolish, and close that damn window."

That began the mercy, the pain, and the death of the Wizarding World.