A/N: Before you start reading my new novel length fiction, there are several background information you ought to know. First of all, this will be an AU, and will contain very heavy spoilers for the seventh book. So be warned. This will be Post Deathly Hallows, up until chapter 34, and then turn AU. Instead of surviving the Avada Kedavra curse once more, Harry will die, and Ron will be killed by Bellatrix. Voldemort will 'win' the battle, and we start the story from there. This will be a time-turner story, with Hermione as the leading lady. This will certainly NOT follow any cliché. It will be like something you have never read before.
Title: The Black Trio
Disclaimer: I most certainly do not own the Potter books, if I did, then the seventh book would be called 'The Black Trio'.
Summary: Saved by Hermione from the inferi, Regulus and Hermione form a close bond. Their determination to bring down Voldemort becomes the glue that holds the two together. But what happens when his older brother wants to join in the quest for hunting down the Horcruxes? Sirius/Hermione/Regulus
Rating: T, but that might change.
Warnings: Some dark material, some violence, suggestive humor, and crude language.
Chapter 1 – The Necklace
The great hall was silhouetted in despair, anger, and agony beyond belief. Every corner of the once extravagant great hall was tainted. Tainted with blood, gore, humiliation, and pain. It felt as if a heavy hatchet was hacking away at her heart, and she could do nothing to stop the unbearably sadistic pain. Her chocolate eyes, that were filled with tears, roamed the remaining of the great hall. On the far end of the corner she saw the Weasley's crowded over three limp bodies. Again, she felt the same agonizing pain as she watched her surrogate mother weeping at the feet of her youngest son.
She couldn't bring herself to join them, she couldn't bring herself to weep like the rest. She didn't have anything left in her, she felt like an empty shell. There was nothing worth living for. The boy who she loved like a brother, and had protected fiercely for the past seven years had just sacrificed himself for the rest of the wizarding world. The boy who she had loved since he had saved her from a mountain troll jumped in front of a killing curse for her. They both gave their lives to protect, but in the end, it was all for nothing.
As selfish as the thought was, Hermione somehow knew that she would be able to recover if Harry died, but the pain of Ron's death was excruciatingly painful. She had no feelings left inside her, she was nothing more than an empty shell, her soul was ripped out from her, and she had nothing to live for anymore. There were still two Horcruxes left, and with Harry and Ron both gone, defeating Voldemort seemed more impossible than ever. The world was doomed for her now, even if she did find the strength to live her life, she could never live a compromising one with Voldemort reigning over them.
Being isolated, alone, and lost. She had no one anymore. No parents, no brother, nor the love of her life. It seemed as her will to live had been snatched so cruelly from her. If only Harry hadn't sacrificed himself, then maybe, just maybe, they would have had the chance to finish Voldemort.
They were so close, just two god damned Horcruxes were left. But no, fate had other plans for them. Fate was cruel and unreasonable, and decided to kill her only source of comfort. Fate diminished the future, fate killed Harry, fate murdered Ron, but most of all fate shattered her.
Why couldn't she die too, surely it would make no difference. Why did she have to survive while her best friends perished an early death? Tears oozed from her eyes, and Hermione was unable to stop them. Emotions seemed to be flooding back under her skin, igniting her insides with gut wrenching pain. And only then did she hear her own shrill sobs echoing across the great hall.
Without even realizing she moved, her feet miraculously sprinted toward the limp bodies of her two best friends. She collapsed on Ron's body first, clutching his torn robes, and her face buried on the crook of his cold neck. She inhaled his spicy scent and realized that it was the last time she would ever smell him. Salty tears oozed from her eyes and landed on Ron's stangely pale face. Hermione couldn't find the strength to wipe them away. Seeing him up close was more unbearable than she had thought. Seeing his lifeless form made her want to die right then and there. Death would have been served better for her, seeing Ron like this was more than she could take. Even though it hurt her to admit it she thought that Ron actually looked much at peace. All the strain seemed ebb away from his face, leaving him looking peaceful and serene. He was beautiful; even in his death, and she cursed herself for not taking the time to realize it before now. Hermione had the sudden urge to laugh at the irony. She had always loved Ron, and for some weird godforsaken reason, she had never took the time to see what a brave, intelligent, and thoughtful man he truly was.
Ron was breathtaking, inside and out, and Hermione couldn't stop the sob that escaped her lips as she realized how much he was truly worth. He never received any recognition for anything he did. And truth be told, she never gave him any. Hermione knew that she had always underestimated him, never fully took the time to appreciate him, nor had she ever expressed her deep attraction to him. Her heart clenched painfully with guilt; she had always given her extra attention to Harry, only because she thought Harry was in more need of it. If she had realized that one day she would be laying on top of a lifeless Ron, she would have never done it. Hermione had always taken Ron for granted and thought that he would always be there regardless of what happened. Hermione's main focus in her seven years of Hogwarts was to keep Harry safe, and her second priority was Ron. Always second best. Those words would forever haunt her. She gripped his shoulder blades tighter, not wanting to let go. She couldn't. It was way too soon. They were supposed to defeat Voldemort, Ron was supposed to declare his love to her, they were supposed to get married! Hermione wasn't supposed to be weeping over his dead body. Sobs continued to extricate from her, and she couldn't stop them. She had wasted seven years, if only she had told him a bit sooner, they would have had more time. But no, her stubbornness, her jealousy, and her cowardice stopped her. She was supposed to be a Gryffindor, but she wasn't. She was wasted woman.
After what seemed like hours, Hermione finally pulled herself away from Ron's chest. Her cheeks were burned and soaked with tears. Her brown eyes found his face one last time, and slowly she brought her lips down to brush against his cold ones. She felt numb, it wasn't like the fierce kiss they had shared only moments before Ron died. This was cold, numb, and unfeeling. One last tear escaped her eyes, and the stray tear landed straight on Ron's closed eyelids. Kissing his closed mouth one last time, she finally released Ron's limp body.
Her brown eyes then darted toward Harry. She felt a stabbing pain in her chest as she watched her best friend lying on the bed lifeless. Harry's body stood limb and immobile, but unlike Ron, his face was contorted in pain. She edged near Harry, tears streaming silently from her eyes. With all her heart she wished it was she who died instead of her best friend. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed that Ginny was on the other side of Harry. Ginny's eyes were swollen and puffy, but no traces of tears were in her eyes. Her eyes had a hard blazing look on them, full of determination and stride.
Hermione could tell just by looking at Ginny that the younger girl would keep fighting. No matter how many more people die, Ginny would continue to fight. She would continuously fight for Harry, Fred, and Ron. Nothing could break Ginny's thirst for revenge, she would only stop when death crosses her path, as they did for her lover and brothers.
Hermione couldn't help but stare at the girl in awe. After all the things that Ginny had been through, she had still remained strong and passive. Hermione finally understood why Harry was so deeply in love with Ginny, he knew that Ginny would never give up. A small look of understanding passed between the two girls, both understanding the intensity of each others pain.
Slowly nodding her head, Hermione pressed her lips against Harry's forehead, her lips touching his scar. Hesitantly she pulled back, and made to stand up. Before she even had the time to sigh, she was engulfed by a hug from Mrs. Weasley. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the gesture, but she couldn't stand the sobbing anymore. All she wanted was quiet, she wanted to get away from the bodies, especially Ron's because Hermione didn't know what she was liable of doing to herself, if she was around Ron's dead body for too long. Suicidal urges will come but she didn't want them so soon. She wanted to fight as much as she could before she claimed her own life.
The hug that Mrs. Weasley gave her no sense of comfort, but only enhanced her pain. It seemed as if Mrs. Weasley was pouring her own pain into her embrace, and Hermione couldn't stand the feel of more pain. Unable to stay in Mrs. Weasley's embrace any longer, Hermione pulled back.
Mrs. Weasley's face was more gaunt than she had ever seen it, she had been though hell and back, lost her two sons, and yet here she was trying her best to comfort Hermione who wasn't even her daughter. Another serge of guilt went through her, Hermione had never giving Mrs. Weasley credit at all for nurturing her, Hermione had always had her parents, so Mrs. Weasley's affections didn't seem much of a big deal, considering the fact that she received the same treatment at home. Mrs. Weasley was truly a remarkable woman, as was Ginny. Hermione squeezed the elder woman's hand, trying to sympathize with her loss, which seemed so much greater and deeper than her own. Mrs. Weasley sadly smiled back at her and ran her chubby motherly hands through Hermione tangled blood soaked hair.
Tears prickled Hermione's eyes as she removed her hand from the elder woman's grasp. Slowly and inevitably she extricated herself from her presence. She wanted to be alone, she wanted the pain to consume her whole, she wanted the true sobs of agony to be released, and she couldn't do it here.
Her head held in a defiant gesture Hermione walked out of the great hall, her feet gliding her aimlessly up the marble stone steps. Her footsteps echoed around the empty staircase. The smell of blood and fiend fire still lingered in the air, she shivered but continued walking nonetheless. Without having the slightest clue where her two feet were taking her, she landed across the portrait of Barbabus the Barmy.
Hermione didn't understand what happened at first. It happened so quickly, she had almost missed it. In front of her stood the Room of Requirement and as soon as her brown eyes came in contact with the plain stone wall, it began to emerge. Several seconds later a great mahogany door stood in front of her, with a sliver handle coated with serpentine emeralds. She gasped as she watched the magnificent door appear in front of her and for some odd reason, she was staring at the door transfixed, almost trancelike.
Without having the slightest clue on where her feet was taking her, she felt herself automatically walk inside the mysterious door. If she had been in her right mind she would have never went inside the unknown room. But something else was stirring inside her now. A peaceful like serenity that lightened her suffering, euphoria was leading her towards the door. It was as if a musical force was constructing her every move, carefully pulling at her insides, she felt it within herself, basic instinct was leading her in.
She walked inside, her eyes circled the room. She was surprised to see that the room was no bigger than a broom closet. Behind her the opening of the Room of Requirement bolted closed, but somehow Hermione failed to realize just how alarming that must be. A tiny wave of shock spread through her, and quite suddenly she indeed understood that she was stuck.
Her senses seemed to be coming back, fear and panic overwhelmed her. The feeling of claustrophobia captured her. She felt sick, sick to her stomach. She knew she shouldn't have come in here, but something led her in, and whatever it was, she didn't trust it. Breathing heavily, Hermione remembered that she had her wand, quickly reaching into her robe pocket, she pulled it out.
"Lumos" she muttered into the dark. Light emanated the small room, and her brown eyes widened in shock. Hermione felt her heart rate increase, and her blood was pumping in her veins violently. Ancient runes scattered the dirty walls in the minuscule room and in the middle of the dark room stood a desk that was about three feet in length. The desk was battered and grime covered mostly every inch of the desk. But one thing was quite noticeable on the desk, which was a clear crisp parchment.
She felt suddenly scared, her bravery had flown out the window, and coldness seemed to intertwine itself with her. She was cold, very cold, even the iciness of dementors seemed warmer compared to this. She wanted to scream, shout, she wanted to yell for help, but no sound came out of her mouth. She felt her body begin to shake, her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, and her breath came in shaky gasps. As quickly as the iciness came, it vanished. The color around her face returned, her breathing became steady, and the pounding in her chest seemed to ease considerably. She slowly opened her eyes, fearing the worst.
A completely different sight captured her. No longer was dirt covering every inch of the unknown room. She could now clearly see the ancient runes that are scattered on the walls. She also noted that the desk that was covered in filthy grime just seconds ago, now stood in front of her shining in golden ray. Hermione realized that the desk wasn't made of wood, but pure gold. The light that was emanating from the desk almost unsteadied her balance. It was too bright, too pure, she couldn't care to stare at it to long. The crumpled up parchment that she saw before disappeared as well, and in it's place lay a sliver chain.
Again, she felt the air change around her, it was almost as if something very seductive was pushing her toward the sliver ornament. Not being able to stop herself, Hermione edged toward the desk. The nearer she got the warmer she felt. The strange thing was that she felt the warmth spread through her, even down to her finger tips. It was unlike anything she ever felt before. Finally her feet stopped without her consent and her eyes grasped the sliver chain in it'd depths. It was beautifully sculptured, even more beautiful than goblin made ornaments. The chain was simple, but so elegant. She yearned to touch it, to hold it, to wear it around her neck. But something in the back of her mind stopped her. Hermione felt herself breaking out of the abstraction, her mind felt clearer, and fear gripped her.
In a startling realization, Hermione realized that she had stumbled upon an ancient room, that had magic beyond anything she'd ever seen. The room of requirement had always been mysterious and unknown, and that much she had always knew. But the realms of magic that were hidden in deep inside it, she would have never guessed. The room wasn't as simple as others had made it out to be. It was clever, and had a mind of its own. It saw through people's souls, emotions, and everything the heart can desire. And she wondered if there was a reason, she was here.
Had the room placed her here for a reason? Was she supposed to be locked in here forever? Was her body supposed to decay here? Is she supposed to die here? Was that it? Her deepest desire now would probably be to end her life, was that why the room put her in here? She didn't know. Hermione, who usually had answers to every difficult problem, had no answer to this. No solution came her way. She was blank.
One thing she did know was the fact that the sliver chain had a lot to do with the future. An animal insistent was leading her to the chain. She had a savage urge to touch the chain, hold it in her palm, kiss the hem of the collar. As soon as the thoughts entered her head, she saw a vivid image of herself retrieving the sliver chain from the table.
Pushing the clawing fear away from her mind, Hermione edged towards the chain, it seemed to glow brighter as Hermione approached. Her eyes began to water, but she couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful ornament. It was as if one blink would rid the necklace of it's uncharacteristic beauty. She felt safer, warmer, and her heart lighter as she neared it. Her thoughts of Harry and Ron seemed so far away, almost as if it happened in an another life. And then quite suddenly her feet stopped right in front of the golden desk, her hand was near reach of the chain.
Without pondering to think what she was doing, Hermione snatched the chain from the desk, and everything went dark.
"Take this," he croaked, as he tried to grasp Kreacher's dirty tea cozy.
"Master, no. Please, Kreacher can't." sobbed the frantic house elf as he held the collar of Regulus' shirt refusing to let go.
"It's an order Kreacher! Do as I say. Destroy the blasted thing!" Regulus croaked again, but this time his voice was stronger than before.
He was weakening by the second. "The inferi will pull me into the water Kreacher, I need you to leave. Save yourself and destroy the locket." ordered Regulus.
The elf sobbed harder than ever, his fingers clenched and unclenched in fury and pain. "Mas-ter, ple-ase! Think about my poor Mistress. Master Regulus can't do this to my poor Mistress" wailed Kreacher.
Quite suddenly an awful sound emanated from the water. Gaunt, frail, and pale, the inferis rose from the lake. Regulus suddenly found his voice. "KREACHER GO NOW! NOW!"
He heard the last sob of his dear house elf, before it disappeared with a sickening crack. Regulus watched unmoving as the manipulated dead bodies approached him. He had not a fear in the world. The edged closer, and Regulus still stood defiant as ever, his Black arrogance never leaving his face. He felt the icy arms of inferies grip his own, still his face remained as passive as ever. They hauled his body up almost as if he didn't weigh a thing and dragged him towards the water. A smile curved in his face as he welcomed death, and his only one regret in life was never apologizing to his brother. Soon darkness enveloped him, and Regulus remembered no more.
A/N: Before any of you automatically conclude that this fic will be a cliché like the rest, I will take the time to reveal parts of my plot to you. This idea had been swarming in my head for ages now. Six months to be exact. The funny thing is that I had been writing this chapter for a while now, and it had been done for ages, but it always felt as if something was missing. It didn't feel right. But now, I am successfully finished the chapter, and the second one is almost done as well. Taking the title and brief title into consideration, I am sure most of you have indeed figured out the basic plot of the story. Hermione will go back in time before Regulus' death, not to the Marauders Era to stop everything from happening. I am sick of that. I still do not know whether I want to keep the Potter's alive or not. Most likely I will have them die, only because it serves a purpose for Sirius in the plot. And if I decide to keep them alive, it will turn the plot more complex than it already is. So I am still undecided on that. But seriously, take the time to give me feedback. Tell me what you like and don't like, and constructive criticism is always accepted by me.