Not Emotionless to Me

Prologue

The thought that we wouldn’t win the war never really occurred to me. I always assumed that the “good guys” would prevail. Light would conquer dark and we would all live happily ever after, that kind of thing. For the first time in my life, I was utterly mistaken. I, Hermione Granger, renowned Know-It-All, was as wrong as a person can be.

Voldemort won the war. Everyone else in the Order is either dead or insane. Everyone but him. I never thought he was capable of such betrayal. Never thought I would watch as he handed Harry Potter over to the dark. But he did, and I did watch. Voldemort himself held me back as I watched the man I loved torture my best friend to the brink of death…

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The final battle was getting closer everyday. We all knew it. Every morning I woke up in my husband’s arms we both knew it could be the final time. Together since my sixth year, we married as soon as I graduated. Harry was furious, as was Ron. We didn’t talk for six months. Only after my love saved them from Voldemort yet again did they come around. Soon our little trio was one again. We were inseparable… that is until Ron died.

I remember that day so clearly. Harry’s scar never stopped prickling and it was always bright red right before something happened. All week he had been bedridden. Luckily, he had finally learned Occlumency. Or maybe not so lucky, a warning would have been nice. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have let Ron go out alone. Even though we had graduated and were fully trained Aurors, we lived at Hogwarts. Living on the outside was just too dangerous for the three of us.

We’re not sure how he died. All we know was that it was some kind of curse combined with a Muggle hunting knife. The look on his face was incredible; I’ll never forget it. It was a mixture of shock, fear, anger, and acceptance. My husband carried him up the front steps and into the Great Hall before collapsing. He told us the Death Eaters killed him, though he didn’t know how. I knew he was lying because he couldn’t look me in the eyes.

His eyes told me all I ever needed to know about him. Harry and Ron insisted that you couldn’t tell anything from them, but they didn’t know him as I did. To the outside world, they were nothing more than obsidian orbs trained to show no emotion. But to me they were like a well of endless information about his very soul. His eyes look black to everyone else, but to me they are two totally different colors. The left one is dark, dark brown, the right a deep hazel. But they do flash black when he is feeling some kind of strong emotion. Or when he’s lying. The day Ron died I’m sure they were darker than they’d ever been. It wasn’t until that final battle that I found out how right I was.

I woke up in his arms, as always. Combined with what he picked up from Death Eater meetings and Harry’s scar hurting, we knew a confrontation was near. We didn’t have to wait long. Voldemort attacked at lunch. Dumbledore was the first to fall. It was a surprise attack, though we knew it was coming eventually. Voldemort used Polyjuice to look like a student and walked right up to the Head table. Two little words and our leader was gone. It wasn’t until Pot Potion wore off that all hell broke loose.

Death Eaters popped up all over, killing half-bloods and Muggle-borns all around. By the time the rest of the Order arrived, half the school had fallen. When I saw my husband walk over to Harry, I assumed it was to rush him to safety. Another example of me being wrong. I immediately followed them into the entrance of the school, only to be grabbed from behind by the Dark Lord himself. My wand dropped to the ground and all I could do was rely on my love to save me. But he had other things on his mind. Before I knew what was happening his wand was out and pointed at Harry.

I assumed it was some kind of protection spell, and then he would come for me. He always told me that his true loyalties would come out in the final battle. Come out they did, and I could not have been more shocked. When he first used the Cruciatus on Harry, I assumed it was a ruse and that any minute he would turn his wand on Voldemort and hex him into oblivion. It was then that I noticed his eyes. Not a speck of black in them. He was being honest for what was apparently the first time in our marriage. It was not an act. He never stopped working for Voldemort, he betrayed the Order. Betrayed Dumbledore. Betrayed me.

Soon Harry’s screams of pain were drowned out by my own. If Voldemort had not been holding me, I swear I would have strangled him with my bare hands. But he was holding me, so there was nothing I could do. I just settled for screaming. I still don’t know what I was screaming, or if it made any sense. All I knew at that moment was that my love had betrayed me. The man I had given my heart to had possibly never loved me at all.

Voldemort’s maniacal laugh soon drowned out all other sound, stunning me into silence. Harry stopped screaming, finally driven insane. Only when he could no longer move did Voldemort toss me aside. My husband caught me and made me watch as Voldemort killed Harry. One by one, the remaining Death Eaters came out of the Great Hall. Many were covered in blood that I’m sure was not their own. They formed a circle around us. I was released, only to be grabbed by Lucius Malfoy. My husband was given the job of disposing of the only remaining \"Mudblood.”

I remember it all so clearly. He mumbled the curse I coI collapsed to the floor. Just before my head hit the bricks, I saw his eyes. They weren’t black, but they were full of regret. He had really meant to kill me. Obviously it didn’t work. Only I was so lucky. I awoke hours later and surveyed the damage done to the school. All the purebloods, students and teachers alike, had eateeated to their rooms unscathed. All the purebloods but one.

The youngest Weasley lay on the ground in a bloody heap. I rushed over to her. Just like her brother, Ginny had been attacked with a Muggle hunting knife. It was just above her heart. She cried and begged me to take it out, so I did. I held her head in my lap and she bled to death. For the first time I felt truly alone. So I did what anyone would do in my situation. I cried. I cried until the sun fell and rose. I had long since run out of tears, but I kept screaming anyway. Until I realized no one could hear me.

Of all the Order members, only I was left alive and sane.

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So you can understand why I’m a little bitter. Perhaps bitter isn’t even the right word. Hurt, miserable, alone, they might work. Hell bent on revenge? Yeah, that’s it. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I will make Severus Snape pay.

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Okay, what did you think? I\'m debating about how to write this. Should I keep it in the first person? Let me knConsConstructive Criticism more than welcome!
Note: All the Potterverse belongs to JKR.