I own nothing. I earn nothing from this. Author does not claim ownership to the franchise or other known characters thereof. This is to include Harry Potter.

Rated M.

Thank you reviewers! I am glad I could creep you out... I think. :)

Also someone said something about a post of this on another fanfic site? Was that a comment? Or did someone put up my story?

Hermione is more 'accepting' because she is being magically controlled by the trinket that Draco gave her.

OoOoOo

Katie Bell had always considered the Dark Lord something crafted out of the worst wizarding kind had to offer.

She had never felt quite so wrong before. Her eyes, clouded with bitter tears from being disillusioned, could only widen in stark terror as the thing before her spouted on about destroying Lord Voldermort as if it were an everyday task.

And, some terrified part of her -that was still capable of rational thought-, believed him. Truly and utterly believed the words that vile creature spewed so easily. What Harry Potter had never been able to accomplish...

'Oh Harry!' Katie thought with mounting sorrow and a sense of defeat. She had carefully stacked all her eggs in Granger's basket... but...

What good was any of it now? The one that could not die, clearly could not begin to go against a sea of endless horrors.

Her mouth felt dry, except for the bile that was building in her throat. She shook, and shivered, feeling repulsed by the hideous creatures all around her. Though Marcus Flint had violated her body, looking at the ghastly faces and knowing their evil... that felt like a violation of the soul. She felt small and was keenly aware of her own mortality.

She clenched her jaw, to stem the urge to vomit upon the ground. In the back of her mind, she could sense Flint there. Probing, like a snake looking for a place to warm its scales. Her hand was still stuck fast to his strange skin. She would have made an attempt to struggle, but it was utterly useless. Hopeless.

Something was decidedly wrong with Granger.

The Witch had to be captured in the throes of some sort of spell or potion. There was no bloody way she'd make calf eyes as Draco Malfoy. No matter what form he was in. Katie did not look up, she wasn't sure she could keep from screaming if she did. The darkened sky paid her no favors in keeping Katie from the worst thoughts of her life.

Thoughts of self-harm and suicide. If she could not help, could not stop this... then perhaps it was best to end it all. Quietly.

Flint, snarled in a half-neigh, at her thought. She could feel his presence, must stronger now and heavy with rage.

Do not even think it. You belong to me.

That was exactly what she was so dearly afraid of. Katie stifled a sob, as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. Her heart cried out against the horrible sort of hell her life was doomed to become. She didn't want this. She did not want Flint. Even if he was the only thing keeping her from being ripped open and devoured.

Katie shivered at the thought, feeling light-headed. The wild magic seemed to dance across her and she hated it still. Loathed it so fiercely, that she pushed back at Flint's presence in her mind.

You are mine.

The voice that was his, seemed to shout in her thoughts. He was so angry, and vicious. Katie could sense it. She did not need to look at his unholy eyes, to know they were trained upon her. She could feel the weight of them like a brand upon her skin.

She knew, or at least had a very good idea, what Flint would do if she refused him again. He was worst than a beast or creature. He was evil. Against her will, Katie's eyes flickered to Draco's form once more and her blood chilled in her veins.

No, Flint was awful, but Draco was pure evil. There was nothing redeeming about these...things. The same twisted and gnarled faces that proudly proclaimed themselves to be pure bloods. Katie shuddered in disgust. She had never been so pleased not to be in their 'lofty' status in the entirely of her short life.

Woman. Flint's voice hissed across her thoughts. Yet, buried beneath the furious hiss, was a note of pleasure.

She felt compelled to be at his side, as much as his hide forced her to stay next to him.

'I can't... I can't watch this,' her mind rebelled, 'This is..-'

Only the beginning.

Katie could feel the mocking amusement that seemed to exude from every part of the monster that was Marcus Flint. Her stomach clenched painfully, and she could hold back her bile no longer. Even though there was nothing to bring up, Katie doubled over and started heaving.

She could sense Flint in her thoughts, probing. Her vivid imagination supplied what she thought might happen once the pure bloods were let loose upon the world. Flashes and bits. Images of utter and undeniable annihilation of millions. If not Billions.

The world shifted beneath her feet as Katie fell to her knees with a breathless cry. Her hand was still stuck to the watery pelt of Flint, but she could not suppress the groan of true distress that welled in her throat as crystalline tears cascaded down her cheeks.

No. Dear Merlin... No.

How could they not see? This was utter madness! How could Hermoine-?

Blood and lifeless corpses were burned into every single mental image she could conjure. Frantic thoughts never quite formed as she shuddered, dry heaving sobs wracked her fragile frame. Any of them. They could end her life in countless ways.

This is what Flint had meant. His insidious whispers across her skin. Violated and tormented the young witch would have howled to the skies that churned darkly above her, but the fear had tightened her throat. She was nearly choking on her own terror.

Anticipation lit the space around her, from the vile monsters that listened to their leader with open loyalty and fascination.

"Now," Draco stated with an air of superiority as his sharp teeth gleamed menacingly. "I do think we are late for a meeting with the dark 'Lord'."

The words themselves nearly dripped with distain and evil amusement. There was nothing to suppress the shiver that ran down Bell's spine at his proclamation. Some part of her, hidden beneath the sudden waves of nausea and regret for surviving this long.

Cold fingers, like the faintest touch of death upon skin, shook violently as Katie pressed them over her mouth. It was to keep for screaming, wailing, and begging for the end of an existence she knew was spiraling into the abyss before her very eyes.

Eyes that were tightly shut as she attempted to drown out the soul-violating laughter of the sinful creatures that reveled in their chaos all around her.

Briefly, she wondered if she might be able to pray for Death. Perhaps, Merlin, or the Dark Lord himself might take pity upon her and grant her the swift and nearly painless method to reach the afterlife. Death, she realized with disturbing and heart-wrenching clarity, was going to be found in every nook and cranny of the world.

Katie Bell would have begged to die, instead of being forced to live this existence that even the concept of 'Hell' did not fully cover.

Unholy eyes gleamed with a vast array of negative emotions and amusement. Flint was there, his wretched presence tainted her thoughts. He shifted through her mind, akin to a toddler playing in a sandbox. It was unending, the defilement she endured, for she comprehended that not even her thoughts were wholly her own.

He was forever listening and feeding off her struggles. He had a twisted sense that this was some sort of... of...she did not even know what to call it.

However, she knew with bone-deep certainty, that he would never permit her death. And, that terrified Katie Bell even more. Because it meant that she was doomed to see this destruction from beginning to end. To see the world...

Under the rule of true monsters.

Compared to that, the 'Dark Lord' truly seemed like nothing more than a passing nuisance . A person she had once considered to personify evil and darkness, was nothing when compared to the creature that used to wear the face of Draco Malfoy. Or that had always been Malfoy.

OoOoOo

Perhaps, in the darkest corners of her mind, Hermione had always assumed that the world would end from something large and cosmic. Or there was always the distinct possibility of the destruction coming from man-made atrocities. Indeed, that always seemed the most likely... of unlikely scenarios.

However, as she was cocooned in the warmth of Draco's embrace, she noticed nothing. Not the tug of magic as it moved them across a vast amount of distance.

She was, therefore, highly fortunate not to see how exactly the end of the world as the muggles knew it; came to pass. Even the half-blooded wizards were wholly unprepared for the quickness in which the veritable slaughter began.

They descended on wings that must have been crafted in the darkest pit in hell. As if the sky had been wrenched open to pour out the creatures that descended upon the unsuspecting mortal and muggle population of the world. An endless night in the middle of the day, aided by the rolling and looming clouds that almost gave the impression they were heralding what was swiftly coming.

By wind, sea, and earth, they surged forward. The embodiment of death and destruction held buoyant upon wave after wave of human blood. Many of whom, were unaware of their very deaths, until their eyes glazed over with lifelessness.

Some were not even permitted the time to scream in horror, as creatures of so long ago -a time of myth and legend- wreaked havoc as if it were a passing fancy. Cries of now orphaned children tore at the remaining hearts that still beat. For the time being.

The Wizards had a term for the dark, and the evil sorcery that laced every move the twisting masses of scale, teeth, and claws; made. The russet evidence of slaughter covered them, making some seem to glow in corrupt delight. Nearly rapturous abandon was visible on their features. Nearly endless sets of eyes glistened in obvious mirth.

The maleficent creatures, some easily recalled as being 'Harpies', appeared to be led by one particular vicious looking female. The gender of her was given by the legends, and the feathers that twisted like thorn-barbs over what should have been breasts.

Screams that were the symphony of music to the ears of the creatures. So achingly beautiful! They delighted in it, nearly endlessly.

Claws rent, like a scissors through paper, into human flesh. Beaks and wicked tongues greedily gobbled at the coppery tang of the sally blood. Horrid screeches, of monsters previously unknown or forgotten echoed across the landscapes. Bestial creatures, crafted from the worst of human nightmares poured forth and ended lives quicker than the average person was capable of blinking.

Some were spared, but not due to any form of kindness. Merely the whims of the purebloods that danced in the wake of the death they caused. It was sickeningly, and hauntingly beautiful as it was mentally scarring.

Large snake-like Nagas swallowed some people whole. Eerily howls of triumph followed the wet squelching of snapping bone. Tendons and ripped muscles hung from the gaping smiles of werewolves, whose wild eyes eagerly sought out the next victims.

In the scant time it took for some people to check their e-mails, thousands were dead. When conventional weapons proved useless against the magical might of the ghoulish horde, many gave way to running. Even those that had proudly served their armed forces, were powerless against what could only be described as 'incredible' strength of the monsters.

Though, even those that ran could never quite get far.

Gleaming and sharp claws dug into victims, as the harpies laughed in pure excitement to haul struggling victims into the sky. When they were far enough up... they were then let go. Some bodies hit other muggles on the ground. The splatter of body matter against the pavement was akin to music for the wicked creatures.

Even the most detailed of legends could not have prepared anyone for what occurred.

Crimson rivers flowed, drenching the soil in the copper-rich fluid. It stained the very Earth an eerie, if not surreal, burnished coat of essence.

The lead Harpy, with cold and black eyes, dipped her head slightly. Her jagged feathers nearly seemed to curl more in delight. The spines that protruded from her head were dyed red with human blood.

"As Lord Draco commands," She screeched across the skies, urging her pure-blooded brethren on, "spare only a few."

Various roars, hisses, and growls of approval met her declaration. Fanged creatures returned to their prey with renewed gusto.

She titled her head back, as Daphne cackled madly.

"Restore the balance!" She decreed, as her sister harpies once more descended from the sky, to 'play' with the muggles below.

Those simple words, regurgitated from a lifetime of Pureblood ideals, heralded the end of human advances. History, irreplaceable and precious, would be lost. The grand accomplishments, would not even make it back into legend.

OoOoOo

Hermione was tucked away, in the room of a mansion that was the epitome of decadence and class. Her hair was artfully coiffed and arranged to enhance her lovely features. She was completely in the dark of what happening as every inch of humanity was forcibly slaughtered into the past. Technology would be lost, and it would be as it had been back in the glory days of old.

The walls glistened, and her ears could not hear the screams nor the weeping. The elves tended to her as if she were a precious treasure. She did not see the horrors. She saw nothing, but the beauty of the room and the finery.

She had been bathed, and a gown chosen. A wide smile painted her delicate features, as she gazed at herself in the mirror. Hermione, on a small and very deep level, could sense that something was not quite right about this. However, it was cast aside as the charm around her neck glowed with warmth.

Her eyes glistened over once more, and the worry or strange passing thought was instantly forgotten.

Like a doll, she was made to look perfect. For her beloved would be returning soon. The elves hummed to themselves, closing the curtains in front of her innocent eyes, as she willingly waited for her Groom.

Draco was gone, and she would eagerly await his return. After all, he had to get rid of that pesky Dark Lord. Hermione's s kin glowed with a maidenly appearance of innocent adoration.