A/N: I am aware of the problem which has occurred with my first upload of this story and I am working on finding out what happened. For those who seen that at first and actually came back to check on the story to see if it was fixed, I thank you.
This is a short Chapter, I know that. But hang with me here. It might be rather Mary Sue, and my apologies for it. This will end up being Hermione Granger/Legolas, I have weighed out the options of Hermione/Thranduil, but that didn't see, right for me. Hermione couldn't just sweep in and thaw Thranduil's heart. I like the idea of Hermione/Thranduil, it is a rather rare pair and I like rare pairs, but Hermione/Legolas will be the way to go here.
Pairings: Hermione Granger/Legolas, (maybe) Hermione Granger/Thorin Oakenshield.
Warnings: Major Character Death, Glitter, Smut, Language, Slight Mary-Sue, Elemental Magic, Drama, Asshole Thorin at first, Rude Legolas, Meddling Gandalf, Jealous Thorin, and probably more.
The Second Chance
Chapter One: A Day of Death, A Day of Birth
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, for that belongs to J.K Rowling. Nor do I own Middle Earth and the creatures within, that belongs to J.R.R Tolkien. Though, the OC which you do not know are mine.
The day was a day of battle, a battle which many would not leave from. This battle was to be called the Battle of Hogwarts. Both good and bad were lost, light and dark, all colors of grey. The worst death for one Harry Potter to witness out of all, was his best friend's death, Hermione Granger. She was captured then brought to the courtyard, tortured by one crazed Bellatrix Lestrange, then killed personally by Voldemort. The bloody muggle way of death caused everyone to cringe except the killer itself and its loyal servant who was madder than the hatter himself. To Hermione herself, her death happened in slow motion.
She wanted to beg for death, to meet the peaceful place beyond the darkness that was clouding her eyesight. For she did not want this, who in the right state of mind would want such a thing? It happened slowly, she watched the knife run across her skin as he teased the petite witch, his red eyes seeping into her doe brown ones, it felt as if he could see her life which was flashing before her eyes. Hermione could see her parent's, the happy memories, learning Elvish with her mother, baking in the kitchen with her mother, coming to Hogwarts, meeting Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the whole lot.
This was the end, she knew it, as did everyone else. For the darkness had won, Hermione could vaguely hear the shouts of her friends who were witnessing this. She felt pity, pity for them, herself, but most importantly, she felt pity for the Half Blooded man who stood in front of her. For he was the weakest of them all, he had nothing to live for, he did not have friends, a wife or children. He was nothing compared to those on the light side and those very few like the Malfoy's which had something which was worth fighting for. Hermione pitied the man whose name was Tom, and if it be the last thing she say, she would tell him. For she did not mean to speak in the language she was raised on, but she did anyway, and the vile creature who was carving into her flesh understood. Her words caused fate, and her two older sisters to write a new path for her in a new life.
"I pity you, for you have nothing. You are nothing but an heir to a man who was so weak he had to leave because his pride was wounded. As you once said, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it, and you Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. a filthy half-blood, are too weak to seek the true power. The power of love, friendship, and a real life which is not lived in fear, but in harmony. Kill me, because I will see you on the other side Tommy." There were few, very, very few who understood, and the ones on the side of the light translated the melodic language for the others to hear the truth. It was Lucius Malfoy who translated, loudest of them all. For him, his wife, and his son were standing on the side of the light, holding back Harry Potter so he would not get killed for his recklessness.
Then, with a snarl, Voldemort slit the throat of Hermione Granger, her blood coating him in warmth and wetness. There were many screams, but Hermione, who was choking on her blood, could not hear the sound, for she heard the call of her home. Her true home within another world, another time far before Christ, a home which promised love, laughter, and family; but only after another battle and war. She caught fate's eye, who then gave her a second chance in life to prevent the life which she once lived within. It would seem like another world, but it was all but so. The world which felt so far from her own, would be her world many millennials later after the success of Sauron within Middle Earth. Voldemort was the heir of Sauron, for he and Hermione were destined to meet.
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month die… and the Dark Lord will mark her as his equal, but she will have the power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the darkness shall be born as the seventh month dies.'
August 3rdst TA 111, Middle Earth
Seeing an elfling was rare, but seeing one abandoned, bloodied, and half alive on the borders of Rivendell was something one did not simply see every thousand years. Lord Elrond was patrolling the borders of his kingdom when the wails came from in between the mountain pass and caught his keen ear's attention. When Lord Elrond turned the corner he almost lost his breakfast, for he was a healer and was used to gruesome scenes, but this was beyond what he could handle. A mere babe, no older than 3 or 4 days old, bloody, skinny, battered, and weak. With such ease, he picked up the child and ran, for the young ellon did not stop, he ran to his study where his best herbs for healing were hidden. Busting open the door, his wife who was reading in a chair, began to cry as she watched her husband heal the child.
It was hours later when in a nursery that Celebrían finally settled the child to sleep, getting a good look at the peaceful child in the crib. When the child was awake, she had golden eyes with flecks of brown, blue, and silver within. Her hair, though not much, looked like pure gold, it was bright, had a shine to it, and was already lengthy for her age, but like a Hobbit, it was a curly mass. Both Celebrían and Lord Elrond decided that her birthdate would be on July 31st, born as the seventh month dies.
Days later is when the newlywed couple of two years decided to raise the little girl as their own. Lord Elrond came up with the name, for they could not simply call the healing elfling, 'baby' or 'little one' all her life. Lord Elrond was watching the child, who was watching her surroundings like a hawk, her small mind seemed to analyze everything around her. So together they agreed.
Hermione Elarinya, meaning that she is a Goddess of War, a warrior, knowledgeable, and beautiful beyond measure. The name fit.