Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N: The thought that sparked this story came to me back in November when I was struggling through NaNoWriMo. Desperate to add more words to my word count, I followed through with the idea and came up with the story below. Enjoy!
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A bright burst of light, a loud, almost apparation-like crack, and Hermione Granger appeared sprawled on the Hogwarts hall floor.
"Professor Granger!"
Hermione's eyes lifted a fraction of an inch, observing the fourth-year's feet rushing towards her, before giving into the blackness.
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Hermione's eyes fluttered open a crack at the voices nearby.
"How did she get there?"
"She's been missing for almost nine months now."
"Does Poppy know when she'll wake up?"
Hermione smiled as she slipped back into dreams of dark, silky hair and even darker eyes.
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"Time travel," she stated blandly, questioning it with her deadpan tone.
"Yes," Hermione replied, playing with her gold bracelet. "It was an accident. I was experimenting with something I found at Grimmauld Place some time ago. Somehow in the process it threw me back in time. I still don't know how." Her eyes darted away and she tried not to cringe at the lie.
"How far back?"
She hesitated. "Please, Minerva, I really don't want to talk about it."
Minerva gave her a searching look. "All right," she slowly agreed.
"I need," Hermione paused, "I need to know if I changed anything."
Minerva nodded, understanding what she meant. "All right, where do you want me to start?"
"The final battle," Hermione whispered, twisting her bracelet and unable to look Minerva in the eye, "did Harry . . ."
"Yes," Minerva finished for her. "Harry died in the final battle, a killing curse from the Dark Lord."
"And he . . ."
"The Dark Lord has taken over, attacking the pockets of active resistance and currently allowing the rest of us to live, though we live in fear of the day he'll change his mind."
She had not changed time. Hermione sighed. She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or not.
"Thank you," she gave a small smile. "Looks like nothing major has changed."
Minerva smiled back, her thoughts mirroring Hermione's. "Well then, when you're all rested up, we can talk about you taking over your classes again. Though you've only been teaching since the battle, you made quite the impression that first year; the students have missed you."
"I have missed them, too."
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Hermione wandered into the first staff meeting after her return. She wondered what staff meetings had been like before Voldemort's rise. They certainly had not been like this. She took her spot at the second table and glanced over at the first. The one where the purebloods, the supremacists, sat. Voldemort had gotten rid of the house system, but Hogwarts was now divided in two. Muggle-born professors and their supporters sat at her table, and the children were divided similarly.
Half of Hermione's job had been helping Muggle-born students decide whether escaping the dangers and prejudice of the wizarding world was worth a life without magic. And even then, who was to say that they were safe in the Muggle world, either? Attacks on Muggles were still as prominent as they had been before the battle, if not more so.
Hermione missed the days when Muggle-born students didn't have to walk the halls in packs, fearful of a hex or worse from a student - or professor.
Amycus Carrow began the meeting, and Hermione tuned him out, absently spinning the bracelet on her hand. She doubted the past nine months had changed his pointless speeches. Lost in thought, she almost didn't notice when the door was thrown open. Almost.
She forced herself not to look when the table of purebloods shot to their feet and murmurs of "my lord" filled the silence. There was only one person it could be. And she didn't think she could face him yet. She subtly moved her bracelet up into her sleeve and stared at the table with enough force to drill holes.
"My lord," Amycus began, "if I can somehow be of assistance-"
"Silence," he demanded tersely, his silvery voice cascading through the room.
Amycus cowered, backing away.
His voice . . . it was so much different than she remembered. She recognized the tone, of course - how could she forget that infuriating tone of voice he used when he wanted something? - but the sound was higher, somehow lighter and more dangerous all at once.
"I am here to see how Hogwarts is progressing under its new . . . leadership." Hermione heard the snide smile in his voice and felt professors all around the room uncomfortably shifting at his statement, trying to decide how long he would stay and how they could avoid his scrutiny if he did. "It wouldn't do for a school of such longstanding history to lower its standards in our new wizard order." Hermione had a feeling this meant the further separation of muggle-born students from the pureblood ones. Lost in thought, she missed what he said for a moment before jerking back into reality.
"It has also come to my attention," his silky voice echoed through the room, "that a certain missing professor is back among us."
It took her brain a few seconds to process that he was talking about her. Hermione felt her palms turn sweaty and focused on controlling her breathing. She had counted on him not recognizing her, not remembering her, at least initially. It was decades ago for him; he shouldn't have even known what part of the future she was from.
In retrospect, this seemed foolish; Voldemort was not known for forgetting things.
But what happens now? She felt the eyes of the room on her and forced herself to show defiance she didn't feel before slowly glancing at the front.
He was staring at her. What is he playing at?
"I'm sure you're all greatly relieved."
The world disappeared around her, and it felt as though she was the only one he was talking to. Hermione missed the concerned glances of the professors next to her, too intent on deciphering what purpose he had behind bringing this up.
Without another word, Voldemort started back toward the doorway.
"Amycus"
"Yes, my lord?"
"Come with me." Amycus began to follow as Voldemort swept out of the room and Hermione let out a breath, allowing herself to begin to relax. Until she heard his next words.
"Bring Miss Granger."
Too shocked to notice much besides a rough grip on her arm, Hermione complied.
Ten steps out of the door, Hermione remembered all the reasons why did not want to be following Voldemort down the hall and struggled to get out of Amycus's grip. Unfortunately, this only resulted in Amycus increasing his vice-like grasp on her arm. A small grunt left her: that was sure to leave a bruise. Voldemort didn't even turn at the scuffle.
Voldemort entered a nearby door and Amycus pulled her through after, shutting it on the way in. Voldemort stood with his back to them for a moment before turning around and studying them. Glancing at Amycus, he commanded, "Leave us."
Amycus looked shocked. He was probably disappointed that the honor of being singled out by his master was over so quickly, Hermione thought wryly.
"Y-Yes, my lord," he said, glancing at Hermione one last time as if trying to figure out what was so special about her before backing out of the room.
A flick of Voldemort's wand warded the room, and Hermione took a step backwards at his advance, eyeing his wand warily, but between her determination not to cower before him and his long strides, he was in front of her much faster than she was comfortable with.
His familiar long fingers slid along her cheek before she could protest. Startled, she looked up into his eyes.
"Hello, Hermione."
She almost closed her eyes at the familiarity of his hand brushing against her face, fingers twirling her hair. There was something different about it, but at the same time, it tugged at her memories and forced her into a place of relaxed compliance. His actions showed her that he remembered. He remembered everything. This was how the Tom she knew acted. But so much time had passed, he couldn't possibly want to pick up where they left off.
"T-Tom?" she questioned.
He scoffed. "If you insist, but only in private."
She was left speechless, opening her mouth in an attempt to speak and closing it just as quickly when nothing came out, only to open it once again.
"Your gaping isn't very appealing, Hermione."
She frowned. "I don't understand, how did you know-"
"That you were here?" he lifted her hand and spun her bracelet around her wrist. "You didn't really think there was no purpose behind this, did you?"
And she remembered. Remembered the spark she felt when Tom first gave it to her, remembered Poppy muttering about being unable to remove it, remembered taking it off herself only to clasp it back on a half hour later because she felt like something was inexplicably missing.
"What did you do to it?" she stared churlishly at the happy gold sparkling back at her.
He let out a short breath of air that could almost be called a laugh. "The gold is inherently connected to my person and charmed to secrete an addictive potion into your skin. If you take it off for long you'll become insane with worry until it is again wrapped around your wrist." He dropped her hand. "That was how I knew the moment you again appeared in Hogwarts."
Hermione's hand twitched with the effort of keeping still and not ripping the bracelet off. She felt its weight like a burning brand on her hand.
"Why . . ."
"You are useful, Hermione," he stated. "In the past it was because of your knowledge of the future - you let much more slip than you knew - and now it is because of your ability to research and use that brain of yours. It may surprise you that free thinking is something the majority of my followers find . . . challenging."
"I wonder why," she bit out.
He turned a slight glare on her. "Now, don't make this difficult. We've been partners before, the circumstances have just . . . changed some."
"You killed my friends," she accused.
"They were in my way."
"They were fighting for what they believed in."
This time he did let out a laugh.
"They were fighting for what is right!" she exclaimed.
"No, Hermione, the winners write history; the winners decide right and wrong, and now have the power to say: I am right. Your silly Order and pathetic stand against me will eventually be lost to history."
Hermione closed her eyes, staring into the bleakness of her future.
"What happened to you?" she whispered.
"I finally have what I want."
"Power? Authority? That can only last for so long. Every power eventually falls; every ruler makes a mistake."
"I assure you, I have planned for far too long to let that happen."
"You didn't used to be like this."
"What you know is a memory."
She looked up into his eyes, remembering what they used to look like before the red glow that now stared back at her. "Yes," she said, "Yes, I suppose it is."
His eyes blazed a slight triumph at her admission.
Hermione took a deep breath. "But I cannot help you."
The triumph was quickly stifled by anger. "What else is left for you? Teaching weak-minded mudbloods and prejudiced purebloods?"
She glared at him. "Yes. And I'd like to see your prejudiced purebloods after they find out what you're asking me to do."
"Ah, Hermione, you know that muggle hatred is only needed to keep our unity."
She scowled. "Yes, I know about your duplicity and hypocrisy."
His mouth curved into a smirk. "See, Hermione? This is why I need you: no one else would say that to my face."
"No." She hated how he kept saying her name.
He gave her a long, intense look before smiling eerily at her. "Think about it, Hermione," he said striding to the door, "I'll be back." She heard the faint click of the door shutting behind him and backed herself dazedly against the wall, pressing herself against the cool stone.
He would be back. He would not let this go.
It was a warning. A promise. And she counted on it.
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A/N: Somewhat open-ended, I know, but it felt like the right place to stop since I don't want this turning into a full-blown novel!
Thanks for reading; I would really appreciate reviews on this little bit of randomness! :)