[FFML] [Spamfic][HP x Over] Death Of Hermione, Birth Of A Hero

StudioPC studiopc at sbcglobal.net
Thu Jul 24 01:55:45 PDT 2008

It came to me as I was fixing dinner. I couldn't help it.

Disclaimer moved to end to avoid spoilers. Not that it won't be  
patently obvious three-qaurters in anyways.


Hermione Granger-Weasley was dying.

One week previous a mechanical assassin, marked with the symbol of  
the Death Eaters, a notorious organization of Dark Wizards and  
Witches had stabbed her in the arm with a poison extracted from the  
Salfransassa root. Normally fatal within twenty-four hours, the  
lethal effects could be held off for a week or so by a combination of  
drugs and Charms, but in the end, the victim still died in a most  
painful fashion as the poison attacked and destroyed the heart.

"I can't let you do this, Hermione," Harry Potter insisted, fingering  
his Auror's badge. "Its . . . illegal in every sense of the word."

"Saving my own life is illegal?" Hermione asked, her fingers moving  
as wand and soldering iron worked together in harmony.

"No, but this . . . thing you're building is!" Harry waved a hand at  
the next table.

Hermione shook her head. "Then arrest me afterwards, Harry. I did not  
spend seven years fighting Voldemort only to be done in later on by a  
coward with an Articifer's skills!"

"You don't even know where to look!"

"Actually, I do."

"Where then, you crazy bint?" Harry demanded. Few people could get  
away with speaking to Hermione so, but she, her husband Ron  
(currently at the house of his parents with their daughter Rose), and  
Harry were bound together by a bond of shared experiences. A bond  
that went deeper, and was far stronger than any bond of blood. It was  
because of that bond that Hermione had sent Ron and their daughter  
away, to spare them additional grief if she failed. Harry had been  
away in Bulgaria, or so Hermione had thought, but he had turned up  
shortly after she'd said goodbye to her family.

"Honestly, Harry, you're --" Hermione broke off, breath coming in  
short gasps, eyes wide. Wand and iron clattered to the floor as she  
fumbled for the bottle of pills, tossing back several of them before  
sinking onto a stool, one hand pressed to her chest. "God!"

"Hermione?" Harry asked, frightened. He pressed his fingers to her  
throat. Her pulse was racing, her skin ashen gray. "Hermione?" he  
asked again, his voice a soft whisper.

"Harry," she said, looking at him. "It's the final stages. I  
don't . . ." she clenched her fingers into her skin, teeth gritted.  
"Minutes left. If that."

Harry removed his badge and slid it across the room. His duty as an  
Auror or saving his best friend. It wasn't much of a choice. "Tell me  
what you need me to do."

They exchanged a smile.

Two Days later . . .

The second youngest of seven children, Ron Weasley knew how to throw  
a punch and he exercised that knowledge by leaving a fair sized  
bruise on Harry's arm.

"She died?" Ron demanded.

"Almost died, Ronald," Hermione corrected from the easy chair. "But  
the procedure was a success." She removed her jumper to reveal that  
under the tank top she had on,  the left side of her chest was  
covered with glowing blue runes surrounding circuitry. Tattoos  
spelling out more runes were mixed in with the glowing ones.

"Oh, a success, is it?" Ron hollered. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"No, because as far as anyone knows, I'm dead." Hermione's tone was  
grim and she got up from her armchair and staggered towards the  
basement. "Which brings us to phase two."

"Phase two. Oh thank God, she has a phase two!" Ron exclaimed, even  
as he helped his wife down the stairs. "I feel so much better now  
that I know there's a phase two."

Harry smothered a grin as he followed them down.

In the middle of the basement, gleaming in the colors of Gryffindor  
Scarlet and Gold, was phase two.

"This is phase two?" Ron gasped.

"Quite," Hermione replied simply and turned to Harry. "And yes, you  
can tell Ginny. I'm going to need her help with flying anyway."

"It flies? Ron shouted. Hermione nodded. "I need a drink," Ron groaned.

Hermione tossed her jumper aside. "Harry, while Ron is being a  
useless lump, help me with this would you?"

Sure, Hermione," Harry said, and reached for the tool box.

Whoever had sent that mechanical bug, whoever had made this attempt,  
had overlooked or been unaware of three key facts about their target:

Hermione Granger-Weasley might work to rehabilitate Magical  
Creatures, but she was also the cleverest Witch Hogwarts School of  
Witchcraft and Wizardry had seen in over a century.

She was a Muggleborn, with an understanding of Muggle machines and ways.

Most importantly, she was a Gryffindor, the warrior house, and did  
not roll over and accept anything. Including death.

As the last pieces slotted into place, Ron came over and laid his  
hands on Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione, I . . ."

"I know." She kissed him and then rested her forehead against his.  
"You have some dirt on your nose," she said softly and brushed his  
nose with her metal clad fingertip. "Right there." They smiled and  
then she straightened. "The helmet, Harry." Harry placed it into her  
hands and she looked at it for a moment.

"Hermione Granger is dead," she said, and pulled on the helmet, the  
eye slits glowing blue. "Long live the Iron Witch."


Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, Iron Man is owned by  
Marvel Comics. No money is being made from this, and no such intent  
should be inferred.

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