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