Anyone reading my other fics, this right here is the reason I haven't updated recently. This idea has been running through my head obsessively - I simply had to write it.

I'm really excited about this story. It has a lot of potential to be something great. I hope everyone enjoys reading as much as I thoroughly enjoyed writing.

Slow updates. No Beta.

Disclaimer: I'm sure you already know, but I'll say it anyways: I do not own Harry Potter. Credit to the definition below - and any other ones I may use - goes to Dictionary/./com.

Chapter One - Silent Endings

Silence (sahy-luh-ns) - noun - 1. absence of any sound or noise; stillness. 2. the state or fact of being silent; muteness.

Hermione used to enjoy the silence - cherished it even. Hogwarts hadn't been somewhere the presence of such stillness could be easily found. Even the library, though certainty quiet, had not quite had pure and utter silence; page's in tombs turning and disturbing the air; quiet murmurs from those studying as a group; stifled laughter and the odd snort; bird chirps traveling through the windows; leaves rustling.

The Burrow had - unquestionably - not been silent. Nor Grimmauld Place. The Weasley family had never been known as a quiet bunch - an extreme understatement if there ever was one. And as for number twelve, Walburga Black had squashed any blessed peace achieved - irritatingly beyond the grave.

The once curly haired teen had not known why she enjoyed silence so. True silence, such stillness that one is sure time had frozen in place, was a delicacy the witch had craved.

She had been sure it had not even existed once upon a time. The Golden Trio's fifth year had brought true meaning to the useless word - the key having been undisturbed meditation. With Umbridge tainting the joy she experienced from simply being one of the hundreds residing inside the old stone structure, Hermione had had great need of a reprieve

Harry had given her the idea - the fact it was unintentional did not matter. With Occlumency lessons every week trained by Professor Snape and Harry and Ron's need to complain about said Potion's Master, the phrase - mocked in a completely inaccurate impression - clear your mind, had stuck.

When not with her two best friends or the DA, Hermione had been locked in a cozy room in the Room of Requirments studying Occlumency books. Of course, the act of blocking Legilimency was a useful ability, but truthfully, it had only been a perk. The true goal was ultimate silence - a goal which, like every other one established by the dedicated teen, had been successful.

Hermione did not know when such an obsession began, nor did it particularly matter - but she knew the exact day it had ended.

October 30, 2002. Ironically, and tragically, the day before Samhian. A new Witch's Year indeed.

Two years and three months after the Battle of Hogwarts, the Wizardry World discovered that war, it seemed, was not quite forgotten. It began simple enough - acts that which had been brushed off as an inconvenience and something easily fixed. That is until witches and wizards realized the true, horrifying cause of the cumbersome events.

Muggles who had been exposed to large amounts of obliviates had began to adapt.

Suddenly dozens of non-magical folk had knowledge of a world they had been seperate from for centuries. And then dozens turned to hundreds. And then to thousands. When the number reached millions, only sixth months had passed and the Wizardry World was officially dragged into another war.

The Order of the Phoenix had tried to negotiate; to explain and show that they were not a danger - as a whole - like the panicked muggles believed.

They had not been successful.

When it - the impossiblity, the hopeless cause and attempt - had thoroughly sunk in, a quarter of all witches and wizards had been exterminated.

Most had been muggleborns. Neighborhoods remembering odd happenings occurring around certain children; families betraying their own - whether by their hand or simply with the act of giving up their child or member; attacks in muggle cities on those who stupidly could not blend in with non-magicals. Even Hermione had found herself in danger around those she had fought to protect, though being the brilliant witch she was known for, she managed to escape unscathed

The Order had lost five members only a month into the war: Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, and Fleur Delacour. The French Veela had been the final provocation for the Weasley family - thus Harry Potter and Hermione Granger as well.

The world had gone down hill from there.

On October 30, 2002, the muggle governments had obtusely launched a nuclear bomb at the largest, populated wizardry camp in Asia - if it could even be called a 'camp'. Housing over ten thousand magical beings, the area had been spotted via satellite. Everyone was instantly, and thankfully, painlessly killed.

The consequences of the act had been much more severe than the muggles had accounted for though. In their recklessness, panic, and fear, the non-magical humans had not considered the backlash of radiation - enough that which would have made more than half of Asia inhabitable.

One important variable had not been calculated however.

The laws and expectations in regards of magic were different than that of muggles. Gravity, if wanted, could be discarded. Atoms in an object could be manipulated to form something entirely different than from before. Electricity was useless in a heavily concentrated magical area, fizzling out without a fight or exploding in protest.

A nuclear bomb set on the largest population of witches and wizards had dire consequences that no one had foreseen. Reacting to the chaotic energy living in the 'abominations', the same energy alive in charmed artifacts and wards surrounding the area, the nuclear weapon destroyed almost all of Asia in seconds. And the radiation, mingling with magic to form a new deadly solution, crept over the world in an unforgiving storm.

Thus, all species had been eradicated.

And then there was only silence.

Cursing, she threw the useless book across the room, something her younger self would have been horrified by. But Hermione Granger was no longer an eleven-year-old child or an eighteen-year-old young adult. At the age of thirty six, she was a woman who, quite frankly, did not give a damn.

About anything.

That was not quite true, she corrected. She cared, but about one thing and one thing only - finding a way, anyway, to turn back time and change the present. Or if she had her way, the future.

Fifteen years and she still had not found anything remotely relevant. Though since she literally had all the time in the world, her hopes did not dissipate in the slightest.

Her mind was another matter.

The last human - correction: the last living being on earth was not all that it was cracked out to be.

...and that statement was a wonderful example of her lapsing sanity.

Not that anyone - if there was a person alive, that is - could blame her. Fifteen years of nothing but herself for company was bound to effect her 'sound' mind (she snickered at the horrible pun). And with losing everyone she cared for - Merlin, everyone she loathed, was indifferent to, or didn't even know - only stretched the thin line of her mind even more.

It was a wonder she hadn't offed herself already.

Oh - that's right. Immortality. Not quite as grand as many had thought. If only Voldemort could see her now - or perhaps he could...was every dead being watching her, the lone survivor of earth? Though if such a thing were possible, it was probably only those who had magical abilities doing so. She hoped muggles were, though, and she flipped off the ceiling for good measure.

Then paused at the thought of Harry or the Weasley's - or, gods forbid, her parents! - getting such a greeting after so long. Sheepishly lowering her finger, she was about to apologize before realizing just what she was doing.

Insanity was not a pretty thing. Though she would argue - to herself, of course - that she wasn't quite insane. Yet. Only a little...unhinged. Just a little of course. Any more than that and she would be worried.

Sighing and lowering her head, she rubbed her temples as if that would dispel the rubbish thoughts littering her mind. No such luck.

Rolling her eyes, she relaxed back in her nice, plush chair (emerald green, and in her longing, she briefly mused at the possibility of sitting on Harry's bright iris'. Then she cringed and pushed the bizarre thought away). Licking her lips, she took a sip of water out of her wine glass. Hey, if she couldn't have aged grape juice, she would just have to pretend.

Right - where was she?

Oh yes, immortality. What a brilliant accident that had been (sarcasm was coming much easier these days). After the final battle - dubbed the Battle of Hogwarts. Original, isn't it? - Harry had, just to be safe, requested both Hermione and Ron accio a Deathly Hallow of their choice - sans invincibility cloak. Her best friend had not wanted to take the chance of acquiring the rumored - and as she now knows: true - immortality that came with being the Master of Death.

With the elder wand in her possession, and the cloak and stone magically willed to her incase of death, Hermione had become said master. Though she still wasn't quite sure how this event had occurred...of course Ron had died before the bombing thus the stone (her friend having wanted to see Fred after his death) had been rightfully her's, but she and Harry had both been in the same camp when the bombing had taken place...

She shrugged, pushing these musings away. She had already spent days thinking of reasons why Harry had somehow died before her, but couldn't find a logical enough answer.

And die she did.

Hermione did not know how long had passed before she had 'awoken'. Long enough for radiation to vanish, that much she knew. The time was irrelevant regardless. It changed nothing.

Biting her lip roughly, she picked up another book from her pile and prepared herself for a long night.

Who was she kidding? (Only herself, obviously. Trying, that is.)

Every night was a long one.

The time alone from others had done wonders for her magical abilities - and, perhaps most importantly, her affinity.

Before the bombing, Hermione had been the optimum of a Light witch. Bright magic only, easily controlled and bringing feelings of a gentle breeze - nothing that overwhelmed her or could be felt thrumming throughout her whole body. In all honesty, Hermione had never tried any other magic but Light so did not know if such strong feelings even existed. (Except from an excellent orgasm, of course.)

The first few years - oh, who was she trying to kid? The first few months after Armageddon, she had stuck to her beliefs of Light Magic only. But without anyone to rein in her curiosity - and desperation. Trying to save her old world before tragedy hit, remember? - can she really be blamed for picking up a Dark book? No, she didn't think so.

Hermione only used the excuse of saving the world for her new reading material for the first few books. And then she simply couldn't be bothered.

Very interesting discoveries indeed.

Even before Voldemort had been killed, Hermione's opinion of Albus Dumbledore had diminished incredibly. And it honestly had nothing to do with Rita Seeker and more of raising her best friend to be a sacrificial lamb. First it was sending a boy to find the madman's Horcruxes; and then it was knowing said boy was a human Horcrux.

So she hadn't been Dumbledore's biggest fan for awhile - to the chagrin of her inner child, who, quite annoyingly now, had practically worshiped authority.

And then upon discovering that Dark Magic was not, in fact, evil at all, completely destroyed any respect she had for the late Headmaster.

Hermione had always wondered why she hadn't been as good at Defense Against the Dark Arts compared to any other class. Because an E on her exams had never been 'brilliant' despite what her friends had said - at least considering her other grades (all O's of course).

With a Neutral ritual, Hermione had found the answer to why.

The affinity of one's magic heavily influenced the spells a witch or wizard could cast with ease. While every witch was capable of performing any type of magic, those with certain affinities could only cast naturally if those spells were imbued in properties that matched their core.

It wasn't a difficult concept to understand - at least for Hermione - so what she didn't understand was the prejudiced against different branches of magic. Didn't the wizardry world recognize that they were limiting those who didn't have a Light affinity? It was maddening.

And Hermione herself was of those who had been confined. Because, as she found out, her affinity was not Light like the world had so assumed - but Dark.

The only reason she was able to perform Light Magic so easily was the simple fact that her core was so large. If she had been an average witch in terms of magical powers, her grades at Hogwarts - of the practical intent - would not have been so perfect. Because while Charms and Transfiguration were of Neutral Magic, the spells taught leaned more towards the Light than the Dark. Defense Against the Dark Art's was another story altogether. Obviously the whole course was defensive Light Magic, thus explaining her grades in the class. Which also explained why Potion's - despite what others had believed - had been her favorite class at Hogwarts.

Potion's as a whole was Neutral. Though wizard's didn't need to actively cast magic when brewing a potion, their magic was still involved in the process - otherwise muggles would easily be able to brew a potion as well. That being said, one's affinity of magic effected the potion they were making just as it would with spells. Because the branch was Neutral, any magical being could make an adequate potion. But while Charms and Transfiguration leaned towards Light Magic (at least at Hogwarts), Potion's was more in the Dark spectrum than any other course taught at the school. If the class wasn't a necessity, Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore had cut the course altogether.

So on top of searching for a way to change time, Hermione had begun honing her Dark Magic abilities. After fifteen years and with a photographic memory to boot, she would say she was up to par with Lucius Malfoy at his best. Perhaps higher, though she really had no way of testing this theory.

With the knowledge of where she was planning on going (and she would, no matter if it took centuries), she also worked on her dueling. Since Hermione had always been an excellent dueler - one couldn't survive a war if they weren't - her skills now in the area were...spectacular. (Modesty seemed to be a thing of the past.)

Incorporating muggle defense - such as hand-to-hand combat - and daily excercises had left Hemione's youthful body (she supposed immortality did have it's perks) very fit. Which she thought said something as her body pre-apocalypse had not been bad at all.

Her appearance wasn't the reason for her ruthless determination, though. Because when Hermione found a way, she would be traveling to the year 1944 - Tom Riddle's seventh year at Hogwart's.

During Hermione's - well, obsessive was an apt word to use - search for all things Dark, she had stumbled upon an innocent looking pamphlet. And it was the innocence that had shocked her to the core.

Hermione was well aware that Lord Voldemort had been a madman, a sociopath if there ever was one. But that one little pamphlet had changed her entire world (or past world, since the one she identified with now was of the Dark variety, but she digressed).

Voldemort was a raving lunatic, yes, but - to her very loud surprise - Tom Riddle was not.

Somehow, between losing his - brilliant - mind and the First War, the man with too many damn names had changed his goals. Where they once had been good intended - if radical - plans of changing the wizardry world, in his madness, they had developed into the sinister ideals Hermione was familiar with. Kill the mudbloods; ruler of the world; "Bow before me, servants!"

Though to be fair, world domination was involved in both - but while it had only been a perk with the first set of goals, it had been the reason for the latter.

Tom Riddle - a completely different person than ol' snake-face - had plan's to revitalize the Wizardry World. Merging Muggleborn's by taking the infants from their families while erasing any memories of the child as soon as they were magically written in the system. Completely and utterly cutting off from the muggle world. Re-introducing magical traditions.

What Hermione had not known - what nobody had told her - was the fact that the Wizardry World as a whole was considered pagan. And paganism was very different than Christianity.

Her years of absorbing as much information on the Dark Art's had been enlightening on the ways of the Wizardry World. For example: holiday's such as Halloween and Christmas were really Sahmian and Yuletide; day's to honor the dead and the birth and gift of magic; days to honor the Dark Mother and Dark Father.

Hermione had wanted to feel confused when first discovering this. Wanted to be ignorant of why the Ministry - why Dumbledore - had celebrated and followed muggle traditions rather than their own. But Hermione had always been intelligent (her IQ was genius level, after all) so she could not bury her head under the sand, so to speak. It was obvious why those considered Light had not upheld the traditions of their ancestors.

Prejudice. It was as simple and as complex as that.

To know that she had been on the wrong side her whole life - for her life really began at age eleven - had caused a severe mental break down that lasted for months. Though it could be said she had never really had a choice as she had never known, as her side had been corrupted by madness. Nevertheless, she had felt like a traitor to her own self.

When realizing it had never truly been her fault, and when realizing she had a chance to change - herself, the world, magic - that was when true determination set in. And that was when she focused her all on only two things - magic and time.

Very interesting discoveries indeed.

A few clarifications:

I am not a scientist. I have no real idea what would happen if a large nuclear bomb had been set on a fairly big area. For the sake of this story, world wide radiation is the result. Please don't complain about how unrealistic the idea is - as this is fanfiction, I frankly don't give a damn, my dear.

No, Hermione is not insane. I know it seems that way, but she isn't. Hermione has been alone for a very long time; she is extremely bored and lonely. Of course her thoughts won't be normal, just as she won't be completely in character. Would you be in her position? I think not.

Witch's Year: this is the Celtic new year which takes place on Samhain, October 31.

This isn't really relevant to the story, but to those who wonder, I will tell you as Hermione never really knows. Harry died before she did because the coordinates the muggles used were slightly skewed because of magical disturbance. Instead of bombing the very center of the camp, the left side (where Harry had been) was targeted, and Hermione was on the very right. She died only mere seconds behind Harry, but it was enough for magic. So no, it wasn't Fate or any other higher power that made this decision. Only chance (note the lack of capitalization).

Yes, this is a Tom/Hermione story. I'm still not sure how long it will be before they get together, but it will eventually happen. There may be questions on Hermione's age and how it will effect her relationship with Tom. I just want to say: Hermione is physically and - pretty much - mentally a twenty-ish year old witch with issues.

Anyways, reviews are appreciated. I would enjoy knowing what others think so far, if there are any ideas, and even complaints - though of the polite variety, please. I'm not perfect and I have no Beta, but I tried my best with the editing. I probably missed many mistakes, so if anyone finds large ones, feel free to tell me.

Thank you for reading, and next time, the A/N won't be so long. Promise.