Treacherous Angels

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, i do not own. I am not, nor affiliated with J.K Rowling or Bloomsbury Publishing. I do not get profit from this writing only satisfaction.

Author's notes: I f by chance you lose your way in this story and need to know what's going on, please email me at cameron_diaz_82@hotmail.com as this story may get quite confusing. Thank You.

To begin, it is necessary to pause for a moment and reflect on one's own attitude in relation to death and dying. Undoubtedly, we are programmed to accept the 'passing' of others as natural. Yet, even then, when death 'threatens' us personally, or anyone for whom we hold great affection, the emotional component comes into play and the objective 'death' becomes a very real and intense experience. This story is intended to address the concept of death on three separate, yet connecting levels. First of all, the inevitability of death, although intellectually known, meets with resistance and constant denial. Secondly, 'types' of denial and resistance in relation to typical thoughts and actions by the dying and the 'survivor’, will be addressed.
Thirdly, 'planning', both the need for and methods of, will be the natural progression. The intent in this place, will be to incorporate benefits to both Self, and others….

The constant crying and screaming could be heard from Hogsmeade. Jets of light filled the sky like a fantastic fireworks display of death and pain. It was so unexpected, so unprepared for. Not even Dumbledore was aware of the many Death Eaters that had surrounded the castle, destroyed Hogsmeade station and blocked off any way of retreating from the castle.

“Run! Run now!” Hermione screamed at Ron.

He nodded and ran for dear life. Bellatrix was unarmed and she had an extremely angry red head on her tail. Ron aimed for her legs, putting her in a leg lock. She fell to the ground, squirming like a lizards severed tail. Ron slowly walked over to her, sneering down at her with a body full of revenge.

“You killed my mother…you killed my father…you killed my sister…you even killed my owl…now I’m gonna kill you…” He snarled, aiming again and screaming, “Avada Kedarva!”

A jet of green light instantly shot out of the tip of his wand and collided with her heaving chest. A distant scream was heard, coming from the back of her throat. He turned around and ran back to Hermione.

Finishing the bottle of Whisky, Harry Potter, slammed it down on the hard oak table, shattering the bottle. He looked at the blood running from his hand. He snorted and pegged the remaining glass bottle at the wall.

“Harry! Help me!”

“Heeeellllpppp mmmeeeee!”

“Look out, Ron! Move!”

“Harry! Where are you? Harry!”

She shook his head and stood from the chair. Looking around the room, he noticed how many guests he had. Spider webs covered the tables, chairs, cracks and frames.

He stormed out of the room and down the stairs. There she was. Still sitting at the dinner table – if you could call it that – staring at it. He walked past her and into the lounge room where another was still recovering.

“Oh, hi Harry…didn’t see you there.” The red head said, realizing Harry was standing there for just under five minutes.

“That’s okay…how you holding up?” Harry replied.

“Fine…I suppose.” Ron replied, sitting up.

Harry walked over and sat beside him, “Still not talking?”

“I tried talking to her before…but she didn’t respond.” Ron said, looking over to Hermione.

“It’s been eight months and no progress…how are we going to snap her out of it?” Harry wondered aloud.

“A spell maybe? But…it’d be dangerous. Messing with peoples minds is outlawed. I’m sure even Dumbledore wouldn’t allow it…”

“No more magic…not until it’s necessary. We can’t risk being caught again.”

“Good idea…”

Soft footsteps could be heard above them. Harry looked up as crumbs of roof fell into his glasses. He looked to Ron.

“What’s with him?” he asked.

“Dunno…he’s been doing it all night. Back and forth, back and forth…he never quits.” Ron replied, shaking his head.

“Better go see what’s up with him…” Harry whined, going back up the stairs.

He walked down the hallway to the end wooden door. He sighed and knocked three times. The door opened and he walked in.

“What’s wrong now?” Harry asked.

“Nothings wrong – why would you say that? Is Granger awake? What about Weasley? What’s happened? TELL ME POTTER!” screamed a paranoid blond haired boy.

“Shut up Malfoy…nothings wrong. I came up here to ask you why you keep pacing.” Harry said.

“I’m hungry…” he said simply.

“I’m Harry. Shut up and go to sleep. you’re annoying me.” Harry replied, turning on his heel.

“Wait…is Hermione awake yet?” Draco asked concerned.

“Why do you care?”

“My mother used to do the same thing…the continuous curses did it to her. My father used to get her out of it…maybe we could use the same method on her?”

“Maybe…how does it work?”

“Well, with my mother, it was being really nice to her – because my father never was. Sort of the opposite reaction from the people she knows. Like me, for instance, I would be really nice to her, but you and Weasley would be absolutely horrible to her. Her confusion would reanimate her.”

“Sounds alright…okay, let’s try it.”

……..

“This better work Malfoy.” Harry warned, sitting opposite Hermione.

“I’ll start…” Draco said, clearing his throat. “Hermione? Babe are you awake? Answer me Hermione. I miss you. I want you to speak to me, hold me.” He said in the nicest way possible.

Ron snorted, “As if that Mudblood would wanna hold a reject like you! Stupid bitch always thinks she’s right.” He flinched at his words.

“I reckon so. She always thinks she’s perfect and knows what to do. My ass! When she wakes up I’m gonna give her the biggest flogging of her life!” Harry said, feeling just as horrible as Ron.

“Don’t listen to them Hermione. You’re a wonderful person! And to me, you are perfect! And that word should not be used in my presence! It’s the most foul thing to come out of a wizards mouth.” Draco lied convincingly.

Her fingers twitched and so did her eyebrows, “Oh, pull your head in Malfoy! She’s a pathetic, try-hard, wannabe, prat, egg headed mudblood! She couldn’t tell her asshole from her elbow!” Harry exclaimed, mentally slapping himself.

But that wasn’t necessary. Hermione gave him the most painful uppercut he’d ever felt. The blow sent him off his chair and onto the floor. Then, she burst into tears, falling to her knees in a heart broken heap.

“My work here is done.” Draco said, standing and leaving the room.

They shook their heads and rushed to her side, “It’s okay ‘Mione. You’re awake…you’re safe with us.” Ron said, pulling her to him.

“Exactly. Don’t ever think we’d leave you alone! Ever!” Harry added, also adding himself to the hug.

Draco peered in and looked at the three of them. He closed his eyes briefly before walking back in. they looked up at him in a mixture of emotions. He bent down in front of Hermione and looked deep into her eyes, as if trying to search for the answer to life. Instead of saying something hurtful, he slowly stretched out his arms and wrapped them around her tiny frame, making the warmth grow between the four bodies.


Author's Notes: First Chapter. That little speech at the beginning of the chapter was read by my grandmother at Marilyn Monroes funeral. Pretty neat huh? If youw ant details on that, like a said, email me.