You saw me before I saw you.
It was the last time we met in the flesh, many many years ago when you were Tom and I was Hermione, but I remember it quite clearly. It was midday, the sky was clearer than it had been for years, and the smell of different herbs lingered in the air. It was a strange place, the Botanical Garden, but it was nothing less than beautiful. I was sat on a wooden park bench in a secluded area when I felt the usual tingle of your gaze behind me - it never failed to send shivers down my spine. You always liked that.
I love the way your skin shudders when I touch it.
After a slight pause you came and sat beside me, not turning your head to look at me. You stared ahead, blankly, even when my gaze flicks to observe you. You were impeccably dressed, as usual, in a dark blue shirt and black dress trousers. I had thought you would wear green, I always told you that it was your best colour. I suppose the change signified something.
These shirts look better on you, my love.
A breeze rolled over the high hedges and tickled the outside of my bare calves. We sat in silence for a moment, and, after shutting my eyes, I can almost believe that we are back -
- back in Hogwarts. Sat outside, watching the Giant Squid fight with the overhanging branches of the Whomping Willow. Your arm is slung around my shoulders in a gesture of protectiveness, your lips are at my ears, whispering stories of what could be, of how we will be forever and a day-
It seems we have reached tomorrow. The silence between us is broken then by the clinking of metal on metal. You flinched and finally turned to look at me. There is a hatred in your eyes like I have never seen. Not even when you looked at Harry, all those years in the future, did I see such rage. But behind that, there is a desperation driving your anger.
"I would rather kill you," you hissed. "Than let you leave."
I nodded, tearing my gaze from yours. It was getting harder and harder to breathe easily. You sighed, air rattling noisily through your nostrils. From the corner of my eye, I noticed your hands wringing together, long pale fingers lacing, stroking over the knuckles.
"You know I cannot stay," I replied, hearing the words echo, as if someone very far away were saying them, not me. These were not the words I wanted so badly to say. I wanted to turn to you, wrap my arms around your shoulders and pull you tightly against my chest. I wanted to blurt apologies, to tell you that it was my fault, that I wanted to stay with you forever, despite what you would become. But no - this was not right. I could not fail my former life, my friends, my family - I could not give up a thousand lives for the sake of love.
There was silence again. You reached across and placed a hand on top of mine. One finger traced my knuckles, then moved down to play with the Time-Turner I held in my palms. I clenched my fists tightly around the metal, for fear you might snatch the precious item from me. The movement made you flinch.
I hate weakness, my Hermione. I will do anything to keep it from my arsenal of emotions.
It must have been this hate that drove your hand upwards, to clench around my throat. You shifted closer to me on the seat, so close that I could feel your nose touching my cheek. The grip on my windpipe tightened painfully, and I began to wheeze.
"You cannot leave. I will not let you," you snapped.
I panicked and began to wind the handle that activated the Time-Turner, but you ripped it from my hands and dashed it to the floor instantly. My eyes widened as the glass shattered at my feet and I felt your fingers dig further into my throat. I grabbed onto your hand at scrabbled at the skin with my nails, desperate to remove it.
"T-Tom, stop. I can't br-."
"I will not let you. You're mine, you're mine," you growled.
Spots began to blacken my vision. After another second of agony, you released my throat and stood, running the same hand through your dark hair. I sucked in a breath. It rattled through my crushed windpipe with a whistle. As the precious air filled my lungs, I caught sight of the broken Time-Turner, shattered on the gravel path, and immediately I began to cough violently, panic causing me to shudder. I looked up at you then, eyes filling with tears.
"I'm not yours, Tom. I'll never be yours," I said, voice barely more a whisper.
You turned back to look at me, hand dropping from your hair to retrieve your wand from your pocket. You raised it up and I shuddered at the bone white tip that pointed was now levelled with my eyes.
"You'll be mine. Mine always, forever," you said, tone hollow. You muttered something in that strange, serpentine language and a burst of purple light spat from your wand, blinding me momentarily.
The spell's effect was slow. It was agony. Sheer, utter agony, worse than anything the Cruciatus could ever have produced. It felt as if my skin was being torn from my body, my blood ran cold, each hair plucked or ripped out. I tried to scream, but my vocal chords snapped before any sound could be made. Eventually, after what felt like an eon, the pain subsided. My body felt limp, awkward, I could barely move. When I opened my eyes, I saw you standing above me, a relieved smile pulling at your lips.
"My love," you whispered, reaching down as if to stroke my face.
I noticed your voice sounded strange, it hissed and flickered, just as it did when you spoke in your role as the Heir. I found myself able to understand you and as you knelt and smoothed a hand down my body, I realised what you had done.
.0.0.0.
I followed you for years. I remained loyal. I was yours.
Not out of love for you, no, but to guarantee your destruction in the future. I played the role exactly as intended, I had to, I couldn't risk upsetting or disturbing the future.
I allowed you to inhabit my body the first time you died. We shared thoughts, feelings, you spoke to me with the same passion as you ever had. When I became your horcrux, I bore your soul within me and for a short while I became enamoured with you, I forgot my mission. I blindly followed you, attacked Arthur Weasley, I murdered Charity Babbage, all at your command.
But the day came, Christmas Eve of 1997, when my mind forced your influence out. I saw myself, brown eyes wide and frightened, haggard by war. The girl that was once me blasted me from the house in Godric's Hollow and I remembered. I remembered who you were, I saw what you had done to me, what I had become.
I waited patiently, oh so patiently. When the day of the Battle of Hogwarts finally arrived and Neville swung the sword towards my head, you corrupted me no longer, I was free. I heard your manic cry. I felt little pain.
And the last thing I saw was Hermione Granger, fading slowly, a gleaming Time-Turner still spinning in her hands.