imprisonment

Chapter 49; H

Dumbledore's old office was destroyed, it was like an earthquake had knocked all of the trinkets and artifacts straight off the walls. She didn't know why her feet lead her here. She just hoped that the sword would show up, because damnit she needed it to.

There was a lump in her throat from just being there. Her heart ached for her professor. It ached for the years when her biggest fear was getting sent to his office for being in trouble, not rummaging through his things trying to find the only salvation of the order.

"Fuck," she gasped out, pulling her hair in distress. She was coming up empty handed and she was running out of time. The sword wasn't coming for her.

Maybe she was damned, no longy worthy to possess the sword of Gryffindor. After these past months, she barely held any attachment to the word anymore. Slytherin coursed through her veins, tainting her. She had fallen from grace, no longer the Golden Girl who was Harry's right hand. 

She shook her head, pleading under her breath for a miracle. She scanned the room one last time, before making the decision to leave. She was of no help just standing there. If the sword was going to come to her, it would have already. She just had to hope there was another way out of this mess.

She took one last look at the office, reminiscing about her childhood spent at the castle, closing the door to that portion of her life.

As she ran down the stairs, her legs became accustomed to the dull ache and burning sensation that once spread like fire. With every step, her heart thumped in her chest, until it felt like she could hear it. She prepared herself the best she could, but who could ever prepare themselves for this? She occluded, removing herself from the present moment. Her body existed to serve a purpose, but her mind existed buried deep in the ocean of her consciousness.

Time couldn't have gone any slower as she reached the courtyard. Every second was agonizing, like a knife being slowly twisted in her chest. This was the second worst pain she had ever felt.

The first being dragged away from him.

She cleared that thought from her head the best she could.

Ruble surrounded her feet when she reached what was left of the courtyard. It was in worse condition than the last time she had been there. 

Screaming seemed to fill her ears, piercing them as if she was the one who was dying at that moment.

She suddenly became aware, as a curse shot inches from her face. She quickly dodged it, sending one straight back to her opponent. She implemented everything she learned from sparring with Draco.

They are aiming to kill.

You can't be vulnerable Granger, you will die.

His words rang in her head clear as day. So she mustered up any Gryffindor left in her, along with the Slytherin she had grown so accustomed to, and fought to survive.

She pointed her wand straight at her opponent, firing curses and hexes, causing light to shine around her so brightly that it was almost blinding until he became incapacitated to fight back. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to ground herself.

She had to find someone, anyone from the order in the sea of chaos surrounding her. She searched, looking for anyone to help her figure out what the fuck to do without the sword.

That's when the whole world seemed to rattle.

"You'd all be smart to just give up," his eerie voice snaked its way into her mind—into all their minds. She soon was able to spot all the remaining order members, because they all grasped at their heads in pain from the assault.

She fought through it, making her way across the courtyard to them. She bit the inside of her cheek hoping for the pain to subside. She ran towards them, ducking and avoiding any dark magic that was being sent her way.

When she finally reached them, she stood up strong, looking him straight in the eyes. "I would rather fucking die trying," her words filled with venom wards the Dark Lord.

Neville straightened out, standing tall, along with Ginny, George, and Luna. Ron was across the yard, along with Kingsley. They stood ready.

"Very well then," he said moving his arm out as if beckoning something. His dark cloak draped onto the ground, and the sky darkened. 

Nagini slithered towards them, her teeth ready to strike. Her dark scales rippled against the debris, dark magic coursing through her veins along with a portion of his soul. She rose high into the air, looming above them all. All of their wands pointed at her, ready to strike back.

Every after that happened in slow motion.

 In a split moment, right when it seemed like the snake would take Neville out, a glinting gold seemed to shine from the pocket of the satchel he was wearing. Neville reached into the garment that resided against his waist, gripping the handle, pulling out the sword, and slicing her head clean off.

They all seemed to gasp in unison as a cloud of black smoke filled the air around them and a screech filled the air.  

"Hermione!" Neville called, tossing the sword through the air. It moved so slowly, shining in the air. For a moment it almost seemed like she wouldn't catch it. This sword symbolized everything to her.

She was worthy. And she was going to kick some arse.

Heavy mental collided with her hand and she grabbed the fang from her pouch and collided it with the sword of Gryffindor—destroying it with the symbol of Slytherin.

Voldemort lunged forward, caught off guard by her discovery, along with the rest of the order who hadn't believed that the sword was a Horcrux. The Dark Lord's hand rose to his chest, in response to becoming weakened from the last portion of his soul being destroyed. He was now the only one left. 

Then she saw him.

Their eyes lined for a moment, causing an eclipse of memories to flood her brain. Everything seemed to stop, and she was the same girl who she was months ago, unable to move at the sight of her friend dead.

Her body shook, unable to process what was happening. She saw him in his black cloak, his death eaters mask fading to reveal his face. He didn't look like the same man she fell in love with in her cell. He was dressed like a prince—his hair combed back and his face strong and chiseled. There was no emotion behind his dark grey eyes.

"You—" the Lord said motioning to him, "Draco, kill her. NOW."

Her eyes looked blankly into his—almost begging. His expression didn't change.

They always tell you love can kill, but you never expect it to. She stood at the point of her death before the person she loved, and still wouldn't take back the time they had spent together. A love like theirs was worth dying for. It was worth spending her last breath thinking about the ways his lips once felt against hers, even if she was to die at his hands.

His wand lifted, pointing towards her chest. Everything was quiet, you could've heard a pin drop in the courtyard. A single tear found its way down her cheek. She refused to close her eyes. If his eyes were going to be the last she looked into, then he had to look into hers as he killed her.

"Go ahead. Do it," she managed to choke out. Her lower jaw shook and her body rattled. Her legs felt too weak to hold her body up. The air constricted from her chest as his aim didn't falter. 

She wondered if she would die slow, or if it would be like going to sleep. She prayed that it would be like the visions he gave her, peaceful and welcoming. That was all she could ask for. 

Lucifer always found a way to make you pay in the end. A love so passionate came with costs. And the price was her life.

"Avada Kedavra," his voice sounded so angelic.

Green light shot through the air like lightning.

A/N

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