Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

_Madness...as you know...is like gravity. All it takes is a little...push._- Joker, "The Dark Knight"

**--oo00MWTM00oo--**

Hogsmeade was in ruins. Buildings, once quaint and cozy, lay as no more than heaps of scrap metal, wood and glass as the smoke from multiple fires billowed into the blue sky. Screams of the frightened and dying filled the air. Cries of pain and anguish tore at the heartstrings of most. Most, that is, excepting the horde of black-cloaked figures that marched down the main street.

Death Eaters. The followers of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. These sadistic criminals took a sick pleasure from the pain they were causing. Torture curses. Killing curses. Blasting curses. Cutting curses. These and more flew from their wands as they laughed mercilessly.

Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire, dove behind a particularly thick pile of wreckage to avoid another Avada Kedavra. Blindly casting curses over the top of her cover, she growled in disgust at her shitty luck.

Ever since the end of her fourth year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, her life had taken a definitive turn down up shit creek. It started with the travesty that was the Triwizard tournament. Her best friend, Harry Potter, had been drafted into the life-threatening competition because of some sycophant death eater in disguise.

If she was honest with herself, she'd admit that her life had actually improved during that cluster fuck. After Ron Weasley, the prick, had stormed away from her and Harry in a fit of jealousy that had made her, as a pubescent girl proud, she'd become much closer to her long time crush. Ever since the troll incident in her first year, Hermione had been crazy about the raven-haired youth. With out the dumb ass of a third wheel, she'd finally been able to fully interact with her friend. It didn't take her long at all to see that Harry was the one she wanted for the rest of her life.

After the first task and that fucking dragon, the moron had returned. Harry, being the kind hearted young man desperate for friendship, had accepted the prick without thought. With the idiotic filter back in place, Harry had steadily reverted back to the boy he'd been before. Just her luck, the Yule ball was announced not long after. That was the turn onto the aforementioned creek. No matter what she had tried. No matter how heavily she'd hinted, Harry would not ask her to go with him.

When Victor Krum **had** asked her, she'd accepted out of pure desperation. When she'd walked down into the entrance hall on the night of the ball, she'd seen the look on Harry's face. She knew that he'd figured it out. He felt same the about her. That boy was an open book to the smartest witch of her age so, the moment he realized his feelings, she'd known. However, the ginger idiot had **had** to stick his freakishly large nose in it.

Admittedly, when he'd started in on her after the ball, she might have over reacted. But, COME ON!! Harry had been approaching her with a look in he eyes that she'd wanted to see for years. He was going to admit his feelings, and Ron ruined it. As soon as the red head had started whining, Harry's eyes had changed. The look of determination had shifted to one of acquiescence. He'd decided to step aside so that Ron could get together with her. As if! Scratch one paddle.

After the final task, she'd finally snapped. The official story was that, once Harry returned with Cedric Diggory's body, the impostor Mad-eye Moody had snuck the broken boy up to his office. This was actually true. Once there, however, things changed. Dumbledore, McGonnagall, and Snape had not burst in just before 'Moody' could curse Harry. No...in fact, she had seen the pair leaving the quidditich pitch and followed them. Reaching the office, she'd eavesdropped on the conversation until Moody had said enough for her to put everything together.

A high-pitched squeal had erupted from within the office. Unknown to her, the noise had emanated from the foe-glass behind Moody's desk. The magical instrument, which had been shifting between several cloudy figures had stopped on one. One image that had never shown on the device before. One image of crystal clear quality. One image of and incredibly pissed off...

"Granger?"

With that, she'd wandlessly shattered the office door. Brown eyes glowing with sheer fury, she'd stomped in to see Moody holding a wand on Harry. A series of wince-worthy cracks emanated from the the old 'auror's' arm as it bent in three different directions. Both men inside had stared at her in awe before Moody's flesh began to ripple. In her anger, her magic canceled the affects of the polyjuice potion that held the grizzled old form.

By the time the professors had arrived, the freshly revealed Barty Crouch Jr. was screaming in fear. In the hospital wing after all was said and done, her and Harry had finally had the talk she'd been wanting. They'd left the wing three days later as a couple. Krum was pissed, but he eventually relented after pushing her too far. The berk had had the gall to try and drag her into a broom closet. This had led to her beating him into a bloody pulp. The prick, on the other hand, was constantly bitching. The final days of term and the **entire** fucking train ride home were filled with his whining.

Before she'd left with her parents, she'd stormed up to Harry's uncle and verbally accosted the bloody walrus. It had been rather amusing to see that a man of his girth was so afraid of a girl that was not even half his size. Once she'd finished her rant, she'd planted a passionate kiss on her new boyfriend's lips before parting ways.

That had been the last time she, or anyone, had seen him. Harry hadn't even reached his home before he was kidnapped. His relatives had been brutally murdered and he'd vanished with out a trace. That was when her vessel upon the river shit had capsized. Nobody knew where the boy-who-lived had gone. The possibility of death eaters was discussed, but the fact that the ministry was adamantly denying news of Voldemort's return and that the Dursleys had been killed with muggle weaponry had negated that.

Everyone searched for her love, but it was all for naught. Eventually, they'd all written his disappearance off as a stunt to get more attention. When Dumbledore himself had come to inform her of the forgone search, she'd broken down into desperate tears. The previously joyful girl had degraded into a pathetic mass of broken-hearted teen. In an attempt to help her, the headmaster had insisted that she be taken to the burrow to be with her friends.

Not smart.

As soon as the youngest Weasley male had seen her state, he'd immediately started in on her with Ginny glaring her the entire time. Why was so she sad that Harry'd let his head get too big and run off? Who cared if he couldn't be found? That was what she got for getting together with the bloody prat in the first place. With him gone, she could finally be with him like should have been in the first place.

That was the exact moment that she'd lost it. Fuck the boat...Hermione'd pulled her self from the creek and began storming across the surface. Hermione Granger, the timid little bookworm had died that day. What rose from the ashes was Hermione Granger, ball-busting **ass**-kicking bookworm.

Ron, none the wiser about her instantaneous transformation, was shocked into unconsciousness as a fist was planted right between his eyes. When Ginny'd started yelling at her, she'd backhanded the little bitch with her already bruised hand. Without a word, she'd stormed out of the house amidst the cheering of Fred and George and called the Knight Bus.

That summer had been the hardest of her life. When not doing homework, she'd thrown herself into almost any physical activity she could find. Soccer. Running. Hell, even Wushu. Through all of her effort, her body changed. Where a mousy little nerd had once hovered, a fucking amazon stood tall...proud...and incredibly hot if she said so herself. Her parents couldn't believe the change in their daughter, but they were happy that she'd seemed to have begun healing.

The fifth year was a bloody nightmare. The ministry, in a fit of on par intelligence, had deemed it necessary to try and take over the school. Delores Umbridge had been a terrible DADA teacher at first, then a god-awful headmistress when she'd finally managed to drive Dumbledore out. Throughout it all, the bitch had made Hermione to suffer through countless 'dententions' where she was forced to write "_I will not tell lies _I will respect my betters" in her own blood. The scars were permanantly etched into the flesh on the back of her hand.

It'd all come to a head when the toad had attempted to use the Cruciatus on her to gather information. She'd quickly dropped the old hag, obviated her, and dragged the hideous body out into the Forbidden forest for the centaurs to find. Or the Acromantulas. Or what the-fuck-ever else found her.

Come summer, she'd immediately restarted her exercise routines. All in all, the vacation was bland compared with those previous. While she refused ever invite to the burrow, her and Harry's godfather had spent many an hour grieving over their loss. Through their mutual grief, the pair had become good friends.

For the most part, her sixth year had been quiet. The only real major event came early in the year. Apparently, the ponce Malfoy had decided to 'honor' her. That honor being to waste five seconds of her life in his bed. Of course, she'd said no, but the moron decided to try and force her.

Madame Pomphrey had been able to reattach his dick...but only just.

After that, nobody messed with her. Sure, there were still verbal assaults, but it ended there. She'd become the ice queen of Gryffindor. In fact, the only people to talk to her at school were Neville and Luna Lovegood, who she'd met no long into her fifth year.

Her musing was interrupted as an explosion blasted apart her cover, sending her sprawling across the cobblestone street of Hogsmeade. Once her vision cleared, she was staring down four wands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that her own wand was way out of reach. None of the death eaters were close enough for any of her minuscule martial arts training to be of much help. This was it. Hermione let loose a relieved sigh and closed her eyes...

Only to be drenched in a thick fluid that contained the coppery scent of blood.

Raising her lids, she gasped at the headless man in front of her. She looked down to see chunks of flesh, bone, and brain matter scattered across her clothes. The other death eaters were frozen in awe as their eyes followed the corpse on its short journey to the ground.

A split-second later, another one of the masked and hooded heads erupted into a fountain of gore. Panicked, the remaining two death eaters began whipping around in a vain attempt to locate whatever was picking them off. A strangled gurgle brought Hermione's attention to the ear-to-ear slit that appeared on one of the shrouded throats.

"Sorry to cut in..." the voice held a note of manic enjoyment as a red arm encircled the last death eater's neck. With a resounding crack, the dark wizard's head was wrenched to the left. "But I thought this story could use a twist."

Hermione watched the body as it fell to the ground. As the corpse landed, her eyes were drawn to a pair of leanly muscled legs covered in a vibrant red and black material. Slowly, her eyes traveled up the legs to a brown belt that was covered in pockets. Hanging on either hip was some kind of gun. Past a defined stomach were two bandoleers full of rather intimidating bullets. Strapped to a broad back were a pair of intricate katanas.

At long last, her eyes reached the man's head. An almost solid red, excepting the black areas on either side, full-head mask hid any facial features. All she could tell was that he had an almost impossibly square jaw. White patches on the mask indicated where his eyes were. As they locked gazes, the area of fabric over the mouth lifted in an unmistakable facsimile of a smile.

"I'll be back." he said in a over exagerated German accent before dashing off towards the other death eaters. Laughing uproariously the entire way.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** At long last...an update. A few of you are aware of my busy schedule, so I won't go into it. I'll try to keep the update time shorter for the next chapter, but I make no promises. I hope you all enjoy.

**--oo00MWTM00oo--**

_Lights flare up to reveal a smartly dressed man. He lightly brushes off the shoulder of his obviously expensive tuxedo before looking out at the reader. Under the red and black mask obscuring his face, a huge smile appears._

"_Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I am-"_

"_Uh...D?"_

"_Yes, mister author?"_

"_I have no idea when people will actually read this. It might not be evening."_

"_You mean the one person who actually enjoys the crap you write?"_

"_...words hurt, man."_

"_Ah, quit bitching. How about this? 'Good (enter your local time period here) ladies and gentlemen.' Does that work for you?"_

"_...whatever."_

"_Writers and their sensitive egos. Gotta coddle the lot of them, I swear." Mumbles the man before smiling at the reader. "As I was saying before the 'author' so rudely interrupted me, I am Deadpool. Aka, the 'Merc with a mouth'. Hence the title of the story. Great job, dumb ass. Really original."_

"_I thought it was pretty good."_

"_You thought wrong."_

"_Ass hole."_

"_Fat ass."_

"_Just get back to work."_

"_What was I doing? Oh yeah...recap. Last chapter, which can not be constituted as a prologue, by the way."_

"_I know, I know."_

"_What was the deal with that, anyway? Everyone was expecting a short little teaser, and they get some stupidly long back story on how Hermione had changed."_

"_Does mister author man have a small crush on a fictional character?"_

"_Not a crush, per say. She's just a powerful character whose potential was obliterated by Rowling."_

"_Whatever, loser."_

"_He...damn."_

"_What."_

"_I just lost the game."_

"_...You dick."_

"_Am not!"_

"_Are too!"_

"_Are Not!"_

"_Are Too!"_

"_Are n-SMACK-ow!" Thoraxe turns to see an imposing older man. The man stares for all of two seconds before Thoraxe cracks._

"_Right boss. Deadpool...recap. Now." Thoraxe sighs in relief as the man leaves._

"_What the fuck was __**he**__ doing here?"_

"_Never question the gut."_

"_You are a total nerd, you know that?"_

"_...maaaaybe."_

"_As I was saying...Last chapter we were told of Hermione's years at Hogwarts after her boy-toy, Harry, was kidnapped before fifth year. All that reminiscing during a battle too. Hmmm...Not very smart on her part, but at least it gave me the chance for a dramatic entrance. This week, I get introduced to the school. I can't wait."_

**--oo00MWTM00oo--**

Hermione watched in awe from her position on the ground as the man obliterated the death eater forces. Metal flashed left and right, carving flesh as the sharp staccato of gunfire flooded the ruined street. She gasped as a familiar purple curse grazed the man's neck. Her hope began flowed from her heart as quickly as the brilliant red blood that flowed from the wound.

"See?! That's what I'm talking about!" Hermione was shocked to hear the strength in the man's voice. By all rights, he should've been gasping and gurgling. "You wizards obsess over your spells and wands. Which is a bit disturbing if you think about it. Of course, I do too, but that's me. I mean, look at Gandalf! Never see him just waving his a wand aro-"

The monologue was **literally** cut short when another purple curse connected squarely with his throat. As he collapsed, the death eaters turned their attention back to the village. Even against the dwindled numbers, the defenders scrambled in an effort to escape.

"Seriously...Guys? **So** not cool. I was just trying to enlighten you. It was very rude to interrupt."

Hearing the voice behind them, the death eaters froze.

"I mean, there are so many things that you are missing out on. The Internet and all of its wonders. A whole world of cool toys. Duct tape. Ah...duct tape...truly a marvelous invention."

Before the death eaters could move, the report of an automatic weapon echoed across the shattered street. One by one, the cloaked men crumpled as their bodies were pierced by unforgiving projectiles.

"Enchiladas, Wiis, spatulas (which is a funny word), hot ma-" the man seemed surprised to see his dead adversaries. "Oh...well...yeah...take that."

With one final glance at the destruction around him, the victor turned and dashed off. Slowly, Hermione laid back down and closed her eyes. As the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body faded, exhaustion forced her brilliant brain to shut down for a much needed reboot.

**--oo00MWTM00oo--**

"Students! I have an announcement to make."

Hermione locked her eyes on the headmaster as he rose from his seat at the teachers' table. She'd awaken in the Hogwarts infirmary after passing out on the cobblestone street of Hogsmeade. Madame Pomphrey had told her that none of the attacking death eaters had survived the battle, though no one seemed to know who or what had killed them. Fearing for her sanity at apparently having been the only one to witness the fight, she decided to keep the details to herself for the time being. Now, four hours and a clean bill of health later, she was sitting across form Neville and Luna at the end of the Gryffindor table at dinner.

"As you may or may not know..." the headmaster smiled at the pairs of rolling eyes throughout the hall. "earlier today, there was an attack on Hogsmeade. I'm glad to report that, while there were fatalities, none of your classmates were seriously injured. However, many of you may have noticed the person responsible for our continued good health."

It was at this point that the majority of the students straightened in curiosity. Even Hermione, who was pretty much the only one to see their hero.

"I have recently been in contact with a man who has agreed to stay at Hogwarts to act as defender of the castle. I ask that none of you impede him in his protection of the school and greet him with the hospitality that makes this institution so great. With that said, I'd like to introduce you to the man known as Deadpool!"

A loud crash reverberated around the great hall as one of the large windows shattered. Sitting in the window sill was the same red and black clad man that Hermione had seen in the village. With the elegant grace of an Olympic gymnast, he sprung from the window toward the head podium. After executing a series of flips and rotations that seemed to defy gravity, he landed in a low crouch beside the headmaster.

"Aaaaannnnddddd..." His voice still held that hint of insanity as he slowly stood to his full height. "Strike a POOOOSSSSEEEE!" with the final exclamation, one of the swords on his broad back slid from its sheath and rested across his shoulder as his other hand planted itself on his hip.

The entire hall remained silent as 'Deadpool' held his pose for a full minute. Eventually, the strange man re-sheathed his sword and dropped off the stage. As he began walking up and down the tables, Dumbledore cleared his throat to get every one's attention.

"Ahem. Yes...welcome, Mr. Deadpool. I ho-"

"Please headmaster, call me Wade. 'Mr. Deadpool' sounds pretty dumb, doncha think?"

"Um...yes, yes. As I was saying...Welcome! Students, please help our guest to feel welcome."

With that, the headmaster sat down to watch as the mercenary strode around the great hall. Deadpool seemed to be on a mission as he inspected every person. Occasionally he would tap a student, much to their fear, with the barrel of his pistol and look at the aged wizard.

"Albus?!" whispered his deputy headmistress in a harsh tone. "What is he doing?"

"Merely confirming my own suspicions, Minerva."

"Suspicions? He's brandishing that muggle weapon around the students with little care. What suspicions could possibly warrant that?"

Dumbledore didn't say a word. He didn't want to agitate his colleague even further by admitting that the mercenary was somehow identifying every student that bore the dark mark. His stoic face remained plastered as more and more children from the Slytherin table were tapped. He knew that a majority of the house of 'cunning' would follow Tom, but the number was rather disconcerting. The impassive mask slipped only slightly as the number spread from the green and silver table to the others. His old heart ached as the masked mercenary identified at least six students from the other houses before taking a seat beside young Miss Granger.

"I fear that it is far worse than I had hoped." whispered Albus in quiet sorrow as he looked down into his dinner plate.

McGonagall just looked at her mentor and friend.

**--oo00MWTM00oo--**

Feeling the weight descend onto the bench beside her, Hermione looked up to see the black and red outfit. She sighed as a big smile blossomed under the mask and a hand raised in a jaunty little wave.

"What's up, guys?"

"Deadpool, right?"

"Yup. So, who do we have here?"

"I'm Neville Longbottom. This is Luna Lovegood. And the rather attractive brunette beside you that looks like she's been sucking on lemons is Hermione Granger."

"Longbottom? Seriously, dude, Rowling must have hated you to name you Longbottom."

"Not really. Not if you think about it." retorted Neville with a smug grin. In the two years since Harry Potter's disappearance, he'd finally grown into himself. While he wasn't yet the biggest or strongest or the most powerful in his year, confidence seemed to roll off of him in waves.

"How's that, Mr. Longbottom?"

"She must have seen the truth."

"Which is?"

"That I'm long...and I have a fantastic bottom."

"Its true." All three heads turned to look at Luna, who was leaning back and glancing down at Neville's rear. After a good laugh and several looks sent their way, the group turned to the food in front of them. Deadpool lifted his mask until the edge rested on the bridge of his nose. Hermione could only stare at the Mercenary's mouth until the white eye holes locked onto her.

"Like what you see?"

The Brunette blushed before lowering her eyes, several thoughts running through her mind. She'd seen that mouth somewhere before. There was something incredibly familiar about Deadpool.

"You do know that your secret is doomed, don't you Wade?" asked Luna, drawing the man's attention.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah...yeah. I know, but it'll be fun while it lasts.

"What are you talking about?" asked Neville.

"You'll see eventually."

**--oo00MWTM00oo--**

"Oi! Granger!"

Hermione sighed in frustration as the voice of Ronald Weasley washed over her. Dinner had just ended, and all she wanted was to get some sleep. She paused momentarily then, deciding that bed was more important, began walking again. She made it ten steps before a hand closed on her arm.

"You deaf or something? I was talking to you."

"No, I'm not deaf. What I am is exhausted. I want to go to bed."

"Look, Hermione. Can't I just say something?"

"Hermione? What happened to Granger? Or mudblood? Where are all of those oh-so-original insults you've become so accustomed to using over the last two years?"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry Hermione."

"What?"

"I said that I'm sorry. I know I've been a right arse for a while now, and I wanted to apologize. It's jut that, after Harry vanished, I was really upset."

"Upset? You were bad-mouthing him up and down."

"I know. That's just me, you know? 'Emotional range of a teaspoon'? I've done some thinking..."

"That explains the smell of something over heating."

"Heh. Yeah. Anyway...as I was saying. I've done some thinking, and I realized why I was so terrible."

"I await with bated breath." Hermione caught a flash of anger in the red head's eyes before he schooled his expression.

"I was just jealous."

"-gasp- Really?"

"Yeah. You must have realized that I've had a crush on you. When you and Harry started dating, I thought I'd lost my chance. Then, when he vanished. I was just so upset that I...I just want a chance to prove myself, Hermione. Please."

"You know what, Ron? Three years ago, I really would've forgiven you. Two years ago, I probably still would have if I'm being honest with myself. Maybe I still should..."

The quick look of smug victory that passed across Ron's face was exactly what she was looking for. Keeping her expression schooled to recompense, she opened her arms wide. As Ron approached, however, she stuck out her palm to stop him.

"Wait. There's one thing I want you to do first."

"Anything."

"Close you eyes and pucker up."

The red head eagerly complied, his thoughts swarming with thoughts of victory.

"Good. Now, with all the passion that you can muster, I want you to kiss my tanned, toned, and incredibly tight ass."

"W-what?"

"Honestly! Did you really expect me to forgive you? While we did have good times years ago, you are nothing but an arrogant prick. I mean, your sole quality is a freakish talent at chess. You're selfish. You're whiny, and you have the I.Q. of a damn brick. In all honestly...and with all due respect...get the fuck out of my face."

With her tirade over, the young woman turned and confidently strode down the corridor. Ron could only stare, slack-jawed, at her back for a couple of seconds. Eventually, he regained enough composure for one final attempt at an insult.

"Y-you...you stuck-up MUDBLOOD!"

All the answer he got was a hearty 'fuck you' finger. Ears red, he made to follow her until a leanly muscled arm dropped itself around his shoulders.

"Duuude. Burn, dude...burn." Ron looked up to see that the arm belonged to that 'Deadpool' character. He made to wrench it off, only to feel five fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulder. As he grunted in pain, a cold object slid up his front until the tip rested on his collar bone.

"What a-"

"shhhh..."

"What are you doing?"

"Standing here. Why?"

"What about the bloody knife?"

"Oh that! Hmm...doesn't look bloody. Looks pretty clean in point of fact. As for why its there...? Simple really. You looked like you had some less-than-pleasant intentions for Miss Granger."

"What do you care?"

The hand tightened on Ron's shoulder again as he was wrenched around to stare into the featureless read and black mask. Under the material, it was easily discernible that there was a angry scowl. The emotionless white eye-patches were what drew his focus, however. Behind the blank cloth, there seemed to be a intimidating green glow. Without warning, the shrouded scowl shifted to a smile as the mercenary's cheek bones lifted.

"Wouldn't **you** like to know?" Humming a peppy tune, Deadpool released the teen and walked off.


End file.

Harry Potter, Humor