bigger than us [dramione]

six

HERMIONE WAS LIVID. She wasn't sure quite what it was about Malfoy's comments that pushed her to this point, though she suspected that they poked a little too hard at a very sore Harry-and-Ron-shaped bruise forming over her heart.

She stormed through the forest, her feet stamping against twigs and leaves, crushing them angrily beneath her. She was upset with herself for letting his words get to her, for spending so much time dwelling on them and then being so cruel to him back in the tent. She knew that she was being over dramatic, but she just missed Harry and Ron so dearly. More than anything, she was so afraid that something had happened to them.

After a few minutes of stalking far away from the tent, Hermione finally found herself in a small clearing. She reached into her bag, dug around for a moment until she felt cool metal press against her fingertips, and fished out Slytherin's locket. The moment she touched it, clutched it in her hand and let it seep into her skin, Hermione felt the sharp prick of its magic pouring gas upon the flames of her anger. She felt it deep in her veins, rushing through like a burning poison, igniting the anger that lived there already — anger caused by Malfoy. She almost enjoyed the way it felt; the way it allowed her to simply let go and relish in her feelings.

Yanking herself back into reality, Hermione placed the locket on a bed of grass before her and took two calculated steps back from it. She had known for some time now that the Sword of Godric Gryffindor was the most sure-fire way to defeat a Horcrux, however she just felt so angry that she needed some way to release it — and what better way than to attempt to destroy a piece of the dark wizard who was the source of all her problems?

Hermione raised her wand, pointed it straight at the locket and fired a silent spell. Light flashed, the locket stirred, but nothing more happened. She flicked through spells in her mind, trying each one after the other, but with no avail. Finally, reluctantly, she turned to her knowledge of darker magic.

As she fired hex after hex, Hermione grew more and more angry. Almost as if the locket was fighting back, it surfaced images in her mind of Malfoy's sneer, his most awful comments in school, the word 'Mudblood' over and over again. Harry and Ron came next, smiling and laughing at first, forcing a pain in her heart at how dearly she missed them, before erecting images of the both of them in severe pain. Harry with his scar, writhing on the ground as Voldemort attempted to pry forth into his mind. Ron, splinched after their infiltration at the Ministry, his arm severed so deeply it was almost removed entirely, crying out in pain as Hermione tried to fix it. Fix it. Something she could never quite do entirely. She had been close on so many occasions — providing help and knowledge where need be, but never quite what would solve their problems.

Then she saw her parents. Standing before her, smiling at her like they recognised her but weren't sure where from. A jolt of pain ran straight to Hermione's heart, but instead of tearing her down as it typically would, it only furthered her rage impossibly more. Crying out now, she continued to fire hex after hex, each one stronger than the last, watching in glee as the locket was tossed up from the ground despite not being harmed in any way. If there was one thing that she hated most about the war, it was what she had been forced to do to her parents. Erasing herself from their lives, watching her face vanish from the pictures in their home — their home, not hers any longer — and wondering if she might ever be able to restore the memories was worse than any torture she might endure. The more time that passed by, the more difficult it would be to bring them back — Hermione knew this, and it placed a looming clock over every aspect of the war, counting down the days until she might never have her parents back again.

Suddenly, the light shot from Hermione's wand flashed blindingly bright on the locket, rebounding off one of its angles and aiming straight back at her. She wasn't quick enough to move, though she attempted to dodge the rebounded hex, and it shot her straight in her splinched arm. Hermione cried out in pain, falling to the ground and clutching her arm. She felt a sticky substance coat her fingers, and when she looked across at the wound she saw that blood was pouring out at a concerning rate. The sight of it made the pain feel one hundred times worse, and Hermione had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from screaming.