Chapter 1:

"Ron!" Hermione screamed running up to the lifeless boy, and collapsed down beside him. She placed her head against his chest, searching for the thumping sound she was supposed to hear, but instead was met with silence.

"Ron, wake up, please!"

She was crying; tears streaking down her face in a desperate attempt to escape her eyes, causing her line of version to blur on the edges. The world wasn't worth seeing without him anyway.

Draco watched as Hermione sobbed into the Weasels' robes and felt an unsettling bout of guilt. He hadn't been the one to kill him, but he had not fought to save him either.

He hadn't been the most pleasant person to Hermione at school, furthermore he was probably the last person she probably would want to see, however he felt morally obligated in going to ask if she was okay. He could finally start trying to make amends

He walked closer carefully towards her; traitorous tears threatening to run down his cheeks, and he fought to keep them at bay. He felt unworthy to be among the students who were still breathing; all saying un-heard goodbyes to their loved ones, and holding on to each other to stay sane. He had no-one to say good-bye to. He had no-one to hold. Instead he walked further and further away from his mother and father; trying not to turn around. How strange was it to feel empowered and stronger with their deaths instead of needing to mourn.

When Draco finally got close enough, he could hear Hermione softly mumbling meaningless words into the Weasels' chest.

"Gr-Granger?" he whispered, but she heard and her thin frame jumped as she was snapped back to reality, facing a boy she probably didn't want to ever come across again.

"Malfoy," she whispered back as she looked up into his eyes from where she was sitting down, a new batch of tears gathering.

"Is it okay it I sit with you?" he asked, and was relieved with she nodded squeezing her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," he said with a small and weak voice, and she nodded again. He didn't know what he was apologising for, so of course she would have no idea herself, however her acceptance was enough for him to let the cold air flood back in to his lungs. It felt wrong to feel liberated; especially as he heard the soft sobs coming from the girl beside him, yet he couldn't help it.

•THREE WEEKS LATER•

"Hermione, are you sure you want to do this?" Dumbledore asked softly looking down at her trembling form. They both knew that there was no way anyone could ever be ready to what she was about to do, however they also both knew that she would lie.

"Yes, yes I'm ready."

There was no point in hiding the fact that she was scared, but she knew she had to do this. Yes, she was going to play around with the timeline, which was a dangerous thing to do. But some future version of herself was going to go to Hogwarts, and be best friends with Harry and Ron, with only the pressure of her grades, her OWLS, and her NEWTS weighing down on her shoulders.

She would not have to worry about the constant threat of Voldemort. Harry would have a normal life growing up with his parents. And hopefully Ron and herself would fall in love.

Dumbledore lifted a book that's pages were now glowing, and one touch would take her back to the year 1945 to complete her 7th year, the same year that Tom Riddle would be in. She was going to change him, with no idea how she would do; knowing only she would do anything. And if all else failed, she would have to kill him.

"Okay, let's repeat the story," Dumbledore said bringing her attention back to him again.

"I was fighting in the front line against Grindelwald, which is why I have so many injuries, curse marks, and cuts. Both of my parents are dead, my dad being killed a year ago and my mum just recently. My name is Hermione Granger and I'm a Pureblood. I don't know how I got here, but I remember grabbing something that looked like a key of some kind. It must have been a portkey, but I don't remember," Hermione answered back, having gone over the story numerous times.

"Yes that's good," Dumbledore muttered, a sad smile now showing on his face.

"It's unfortunate that such drastic matters now need to be taken, but I know if anyone is going to succeed with the almost-impossible job of changing Tom Riddle, it would be you Hermione."

"Thank you Dumbledore."

"And you must not strain yourself. Tom Riddle is an interesting puzzle to try and solve, and I would know because I've tried myself. But the boy thinks with his brain; never his heart. You must not fall in to the trap of assuming he hasn't got one, because you are not dealing with Voldemort here but instead merely a strong minded boy. No challenge is impossible, and I have faith in you." Dumbledore stopped and pondered on that thought, reaching into his robes to pull out an envelope.

"I want you to give this to my past self when you arrive, and it should explain enough. You must never tell anyone the real reason you are there though Hermione, do you understand?"

"Yes Dumbledore," Hermione replied, accepting the envelope and tucking it into her robes.

"Well I think you're ready Hermione. Best of luck, and take care of yourself," Dumbledore said, slowly moving the book towards her.

"Thank you sir," Hermione said taking in deep breaths to prepare herself. Her fingers inched closer to the book, until finally they made contact.

Hermione felt like she was being plunged into darkness, and opened her eyes a second before a marble floor collided with her face. Her eyelids began to feel heavy, and her head throbbed, but the pain was somehow comforting. Pain was a feeling she had grown familiar with.