When Did it Come to This? -- A Ficlet; One-shot
Title: When Did it Come to This
Word Count: 718
Rating: PG, for minor graphical depictions of gore
Characters: Hermioine Granger, Severus Snape, Bill Weasley
Authors Notes: This is the first thing I've ever posted. I can't believe I actually... well, you'll see, won't you?
Hermione noticed the Death Eater in an instant. ‘Thought he could trip me up by slinking around in the shadows?’ she said to herself, watching him beneath lowered lashes as she continued blocking and volleying hexes. She noted his movements carefully, cataloging each spell and block as she moved strategically along the battlefield, automatically firing curses at all the right targets. In an instant, her opportunity presented itself; he was staggering slightly from a poorly blocked Expelliarmus, courtesy of Bill Weasley.
“Destrugere!” she cried, an orange flash of light streaking across the field and to the ground directly before him. The earth beneath the Death Eater’s feet erupted into chunks of soil and rock, sending him flying. Several cracks of bone resounded across the field; she noted each pop with grim satisfaction.
She stalked over to him as she mindlessly hurled curses over the ruckus of the battle. She smirked as she crouched down next to him, casting a clever Do-Not-Notice charm of her own devising. “Doesn’t feel so nice when it happens to you, does it?” she said nastily. She drew her wand down his neck, prodding in spots that were probably not the best to prod in. “My parents died this way, you know,” she said conversationally. “Necks cracked and then abandoned… I might not know who the true killer is, but at least I can be satisfied in knowing I killed one of their more skilled followers.”
He rasped in reply, his words garbled as he breathed hoarsely. She couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.
“Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you,” she said, nudging his mask with her wand.
“He- Herm- Hermione…” he hissed, turning his head and spluttering blood onto her robes and the grass.
Hermione’s eyes widened, staring down at him in shock. “Wh- what?” she stuttered, confusion and surprise written across her face.
Even through the mask, she saw the “you dimwit” stare. Immediately, she ripped off his mask; not just anyone stared like that.
“Professor!” she gasped in horror, her mind reeling in bewilderment. When her wits finally recollected themselves, she stared down at him with a stony glare. “You deserve this and much, much more,” she sneered at him, disgust riddling her voice.
He let out a pathetic noise as he tried to shake his head. “N-no, you-” he spluttered again, the blood dribbling down his chin. He stared at her hard. “Legilimens.”
Hermione was thrown into a whirlwind of thoughts, a sharp pain stinging her neck as they flew past her. ‘These aren’t mine,’ she said to herself, catching glimpses as they ran by.
‘No, Miss Granger, they are not,’ a weak voice said inside her head.
‘Professor?’ she asked again. ‘What are you doing?’
‘These are my memories. I am showing you,’ he said faintly.
‘What? What could you possibly have to show me?’
‘Watch!’ he wheezed.
She did. Scenes flew across her mind’s eye; Snape fighting with Dumbledore; his Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa; Dumbledore forcing him to take an Unbreakable Vow to end the headmaster’s life if the time came; Snape’s legilimancy conversation with Dumbledore, begging him to not make him do it; his grief afterwards.
Hermione was out as soon as she was in. She stared at him in disbelief. “He made you,” she said quietly. “He… he forced you to!”
He gritted his teeth in reply.
“Professor, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry!” she cried, rushing to test the damage on his neck.
“No,” he rasped, closing his eyes. “T- tell,” he murmured.
“I will,” she vowed. “I’ll tell everyone, those who will listen and those who won’t. You will be honored as a hero,” she said.
“Doubt,” he gasped in what sounded to be a chuckle. “Thank…” he breathed .
“You’re welcome, of course, sir,” she said softly, wiping the blood off his face with her sleeve. “Is there anything to be done?”
“Stupe…” he hissed, shaking slightly.
“Stupefy… why…?” she wondered aloud. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You… you won’t… feel it, then,” she finished lamely.
He wheezed in reply.
“You will be honored for your efforts, sir, if it is the last thing I do.”
He stared at her critically but said nothing else.
She nodded at him. “Farewell, professor,” she whispered.
A tight smile graced his lips.
“Stupefy.”
Word Count: 718
Rating: PG, for minor graphical depictions of gore
Characters: Hermioine Granger, Severus Snape, Bill Weasley
Authors Notes: This is the first thing I've ever posted. I can't believe I actually... well, you'll see, won't you?
Hermione noticed the Death Eater in an instant. ‘Thought he could trip me up by slinking around in the shadows?’ she said to herself, watching him beneath lowered lashes as she continued blocking and volleying hexes. She noted his movements carefully, cataloging each spell and block as she moved strategically along the battlefield, automatically firing curses at all the right targets. In an instant, her opportunity presented itself; he was staggering slightly from a poorly blocked Expelliarmus, courtesy of Bill Weasley.
“Destrugere!” she cried, an orange flash of light streaking across the field and to the ground directly before him. The earth beneath the Death Eater’s feet erupted into chunks of soil and rock, sending him flying. Several cracks of bone resounded across the field; she noted each pop with grim satisfaction.
She stalked over to him as she mindlessly hurled curses over the ruckus of the battle. She smirked as she crouched down next to him, casting a clever Do-Not-Notice charm of her own devising. “Doesn’t feel so nice when it happens to you, does it?” she said nastily. She drew her wand down his neck, prodding in spots that were probably not the best to prod in. “My parents died this way, you know,” she said conversationally. “Necks cracked and then abandoned… I might not know who the true killer is, but at least I can be satisfied in knowing I killed one of their more skilled followers.”
He rasped in reply, his words garbled as he breathed hoarsely. She couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.
“Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you,” she said, nudging his mask with her wand.
“He- Herm- Hermione…” he hissed, turning his head and spluttering blood onto her robes and the grass.
Hermione’s eyes widened, staring down at him in shock. “Wh- what?” she stuttered, confusion and surprise written across her face.
Even through the mask, she saw the “you dimwit” stare. Immediately, she ripped off his mask; not just anyone stared like that.
“Professor!” she gasped in horror, her mind reeling in bewilderment. When her wits finally recollected themselves, she stared down at him with a stony glare. “You deserve this and much, much more,” she sneered at him, disgust riddling her voice.
He let out a pathetic noise as he tried to shake his head. “N-no, you-” he spluttered again, the blood dribbling down his chin. He stared at her hard. “Legilimens.”
Hermione was thrown into a whirlwind of thoughts, a sharp pain stinging her neck as they flew past her. ‘These aren’t mine,’ she said to herself, catching glimpses as they ran by.
‘No, Miss Granger, they are not,’ a weak voice said inside her head.
‘Professor?’ she asked again. ‘What are you doing?’
‘These are my memories. I am showing you,’ he said faintly.
‘What? What could you possibly have to show me?’
‘Watch!’ he wheezed.
She did. Scenes flew across her mind’s eye; Snape fighting with Dumbledore; his Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa; Dumbledore forcing him to take an Unbreakable Vow to end the headmaster’s life if the time came; Snape’s legilimancy conversation with Dumbledore, begging him to not make him do it; his grief afterwards.
Hermione was out as soon as she was in. She stared at him in disbelief. “He made you,” she said quietly. “He… he forced you to!”
He gritted his teeth in reply.
“Professor, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry!” she cried, rushing to test the damage on his neck.
“No,” he rasped, closing his eyes. “T- tell,” he murmured.
“I will,” she vowed. “I’ll tell everyone, those who will listen and those who won’t. You will be honored as a hero,” she said.
“Doubt,” he gasped in what sounded to be a chuckle. “Thank…” he breathed .
“You’re welcome, of course, sir,” she said softly, wiping the blood off his face with her sleeve. “Is there anything to be done?”
“Stupe…” he hissed, shaking slightly.
“Stupefy… why…?” she wondered aloud. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You… you won’t… feel it, then,” she finished lamely.
He wheezed in reply.
“You will be honored for your efforts, sir, if it is the last thing I do.”
He stared at her critically but said nothing else.
She nodded at him. “Farewell, professor,” she whispered.
A tight smile graced his lips.
“Stupefy.”