Rebirth

Title: Rebirth
Author: Avalon

Rating: PG?
Summary: Part of Hermione begged her to be logical, to cast the charm, to make the dementors go away. But another part of her, the part that always won, the part that would follow him to the ends of the Earth, decided to deliver him from hell if she could. Ship: H/Hr

A/N: This was written for the wonderful new LJ community http://www.livejournal.com/community/darkside_hphg/ Please visit them if you are into dark! Harry/Hermione. Also please note I'm looking at writing a sequel. Oh, And of course, I do not own them. If I did, I would have made my anvils a little easier to see...

Rebirth 1:

She sat in their room, enjoying the iron stench that a good session would leave behind. It made her giddy. The screams that they'd hear, the begging and the crying were music to her ears. She relished the darkness, the way in enveloped her senses in a way that nothing else could. She knew a part of her had always loved the dark. The secrets it hid. The memories it invoked.

She clung to him, holding her breath as the cold came washing over them. Awing them with its power. This was what death felt like. This is what birth felt like…

She did things the old fashioned way. She was an old fashioned sort of girl. In school, god that was so long ago, people always thought she was a prude, not one to indulge in the latest makeup or fashion trends. But Hermione Granger knew what she was about, and knew that she may be the Queen of this castle, she knew that people may fear her, but she also knew he was her Lord. And people definitely feared him. How could they not? He was supposed to be their savior. He was supposed to stand for all that was good and right in the world. He was supposed to prove that the wizarding race was not doomed to fail miserably. At least that had been Dumbledore's wish. But Dumbledore was gone, just like the others. And while they had gotten their wish, they had not realized just what it would mean.

Part of Hermione begged her to be logical, to cast the charm, to make the dementors go away. But another part of her, the part that always won, the part that would follow him to the ends of the Earth, decided to deliver him from hell if she could. He couldn't go alone, he wouldn't make it without her. After all, the Deatheaters had not been wrong in thinking she was his source of power. Harry Potter was nothing with out Hermione Granger.

Her life was to follow his will. And so was the will of his life to follow hers. Together they'd forged a new order. No one could ever be Voldemort again, because they were the guardians of light. They were the guardians of death. They were the guardians, they were supposed to be the Angels of Light. But than again, just as Lucifer (the brightest angel of them all, if her memory was correct) was a fallen angel, so to were they fallen angels. Justice was his to control, and he gave it to her. What had started as retribution for their friends, oh Ron (it's all in your name), had become a river of blood. Hermione washed her hands in it daily. This was what they had chosen her for, this is what they wanted from Harry. They wanted justice. Dementors wouldn't do, as they had fallen to the will of Voldemort. They wanted someone whose will would never falter, someone who knew the price of injustice. They wanted someone soft, someone who knew what humanity was. They thought they wanted Harry…

Just as she had helped him with a plan to kill Voldemort, she also found a way to strip the dementors of their power, to gain their ability to find guilty souls, and become unstoppable. She gripped him tighter, her fear coming fully to the front, he had already passed out. That's why she came. He couldn't stay awake in the presence of the dementors, not with all the horrors he'd lived through. She could be strong enough for him. She could feel her soul leaving. The love she had for her family, for morals, for life. She could feel the warmth leaving her chest. The only warmth she could feel was her unyielding devotion to Harry, her unyielding love for her tragic hero, her unyielding need to free him.

But they didn't know that they would be asking the Boy-who-lived to give up all that was good in him. And once the keys of justice were handed to them, there was nothing they could do to stop him and his Queen. They would make sure that retribution was served. You didn't want to come to Lord Potter's house. He did not have pity for anyone, and for that you were grateful, unless you wanted to visit him again. You would never see him, his wrath was reserved for those who truly were beyond redemption. You were graced with her presence (oh, she knew what they said about her). She understood the beauties of physical torture, the pain that wizards (to soft with their use of magic) were not used to feeling. And her soul was more gone than his, but don't say that in his presence, lest you want to face his wrath (Or at least that is what her servants whispered). But they did not acknowledge such gossip. When she was with him, she was with him in their own world, if only for five minutes. The worst offense you could do was utter anything against her. He was her protection, just as she was his salvation.

She muttered the spell as the last of her soul left her body. A purple as dark as the deepest night shot from her wand, closing around the dementors, causing them to melt away, all the while their ashes fell into hers and Harry's mouth. This is was birth felt like. Truly this is what birth felt like. She embodied the great phoenix. They now knew justice, they now knew immortality.

~~~~~

Interlude:

I used to know her Ladyship. She was a friend of mine. She was a Gryffindor like me, though few remember it. The ones that do, well, they are the ones who fear her the most. We knew her, she was one of us, and that knowledge is power, that knowledge is her vulnerability. We learned that the day she tortured and executed Luna Lovegood. Supposedly, his Lordship had heard about us (though I dare not mention who we are, lest you be drawn into this hell); about our fight to remind the people what had become of them. Luna, and her poor paper. She knew few believed it, and yet she still published the truth as she saw fit. Poor Luna, the one time it was the truth, would be the one time she was not rewarded for it.

“The so-called justice performed by his Lord and Lady is what will be the downfall of our kind. Fear is not peace. Peace is not the fear of retribution. Peace is knowing that you fear no one. Handing the power of judgment to our heroes, letting Harry Potter's soul die, just for the sake of so-called `safety' was the biggest mistake we could have ever made. ”

Her Ladyship, the voice, the figure of justice, had arrested Luna that day for traitorous action against Britain's Wizardry. It was meant to be a safety action. “The minute we allow our authority to be questioned,” she spoke with clarity from her thrown of justice. “Is the minute we allow Voldemort to rule again. Absolutes are the only way to prevent chaos.” And so she was put on trial. Poor Luna never stood a chance. She said what she believed. She believed what she said. And in the end regardless of right or wrong, the Ladyship and his Lordship did not believe in her truths.

“His Lord, Harry Potter, has made his ruling after her Lady, Hermione Granger, presented the evidence against the enemy of state, Luna Lovegood. The prisoner shall be made example of, and put to death. May the God of our fathers be with you. May the souls of those fallen be your redemption…”

Her Ladyship (I fear to even think of her as Hermione Granger) is the only one we ever see. We are told that it is for the sake of his divine justice. If his Lordship were to walk among us, well, he'd be tainted. Like the first inhabitants of Eden, he is our forbidden fruit, the key to knowledge. If we want to remain in this Eden they have so kindly given, we must stay away from that tree. We now know peace, we fear no one, we fear two…

Rebirth 2:

She locks herself in the dinning room every day at 6pm. She doesn't like to be served, she asks that the food be brought in and that the servants leave, per his Lordship's wish. House-elves (the poor creature exploited in the war) are no longer numerous enough to serve in any household. She smiles inwardly at this knowledge, knowing that this is an example of what death is. Freedom. She is an emancipator.

He met her at six, this was their last supper. Almost as if they were ready for their execution. But neither of them said those words. They were doing what they had to do for others. Tonight though, belonged to them.

She warded the room every day at 6:06pm just minutes after they would leave her Ladyship alone with his Lordship. It wasn't their duty to question. Questions were for judgment, judgment was theirs. If anyone asked, they were having dinner. If anyone asks, they will be hanged (her Ladyship made that much clear).

He kissed her and begged. He wanted there to be another way. He wanted to save the world, he wanted to save himself. “All the more reason I should come love.” She argued so well. How could he say no? Harry Potter didn't know the word no. That was what the world counted on. That was what she counted on.

By 7pm they would be finished with their meals. She would magic their empty dishes to the kitchen. He didn't eat much, though no one would say so. Information was only theirs to possess, not to understand. They would discuss their plans. No one would see them until the next day. Her Ladyship would meet with her secretary and go over the days events. Almost like she was truly just any other CEO, but her company's product was not concrete, her company's product was fear. Hermione Granger was always a strategist.

At 8pm the time when infinity is called upon, they would loose their souls, but now they would loose themselves in each other. Tonight they would become one.

They didn't understand what they had done to her Harry. They didn't understand what she had to do to save him. He couldn't do this job. He would never have been able to be their justice. He was weak, he loved this world too much to understand that evil was much more than a man with the face of a snake. No, Harry Potter couldn't understand evil. He was too noble for that. But Hermione knew evil, just as she knew darkness. Evil was the world that asked a boy to save them. Evil killed their best friend. Evil brought them together. Hermione loved evil, Hermione hated evil. Hermione saved him from evil.

When the time came, they gave each other one last kiss. He had resigned himself to his fate. She knew he would. The hero was always predictable, she loved his predictability. She clung to him, holding her breath as the cold came washing over them. Awing them with its power. This was what death felt like. This is what birth felt like, she was being born through the power. It whispered to her. Told her that she need to let him go. "Freedom is death. Death is justice. Justice is his legacy…"

Every night at 8pm, she kisses him goodnight. She knows he's aware of her presences. She knows he knows she did this for him. She knows he's free. She carries his burden. She delivers the justice he never could. Her kiss could not save him, but the kiss of a dementor could. She'll continue the tortures, she'll continue the deaths.

She moves to her chamber. She loves the smell of blood. It reminds her of life, it reminds her of death. Death reminds her of darkness. Darkness, Hermione Granger had always loved darkness. It hid secrets well. Hiding secrets gave her power. Power was retribution. Retribution was his legacy.

A/N: Well hope you enjoyed. Sequel Coming...

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