I'm trying something a bit different with this fic. ;v;/
So there's going to be mostly Tom/Hermione with a bunch of Draco/Hermione.
Also, English is not my first (or second) language, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes.
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Please REVIEW.
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Hermione had never put much stock into things like divination, things like fate and crystal balls were for people who were too afraid to see the world for what it was: a place where messed up things happen for no reason. People who believed in a high power were fools, but Hermione Jean Granger was no fool. She didn't buy into tessomancy, tarot cards or chiromancy it was all woolly and ridiculous at best. She was much too logical to buy into the discombobulated guess work that was divination- so it came as no surprise that she didn't read into Sybill Trelawney's warning, but what sane person would?
Trelawney had pulled her away from her friends an hour before the finale battle to tell her some rubbish about trusting fate and that everything happens for a reason. A bunch of teenagers were about to fight an army of blood thirsty death eaters and she wanted to tell Hermione to go with the flow? Hermione had scoffed at the advice and walked away without asking for an explanation. There were too many things to do in preparation. Too many important things… things that people relied on being done with their lives and to Hermione that outweighed the mental ramblings of a madwoman.
However, Hermione now found herself wishing she had followed up on the blasted woman's warning, because apparently fate hated her and was determined to ruin her life every which way. At least that's all she could think of as she lay on the crisp white sheets on one of the infirmary's cots- that fate was working against her favor that is. Correction the fates were working against her and her best friend, Harry Potter.
This had to be karma calling for payment for Hermione being such a terrible daughter or something of the sort. If Hermione believed in karma, which she didn't, she would admit that it's quite the bitch. Wither it was for when she stole a five dollar bill from her mother's purse a week before her tenth birthday or her haste in removing her parents' memories, karma had come to collect it's dues.
However, regardless of how bitchy karma may or may not be, Hermione still firmly believed that divination was a bunch of nonsense people made up by people who needed to hide from their own mistakes and the young witch had to admit, she had made a mistake in her plan. Well… a rather huge miscalculation.
A blunder of rather gigantic proportions, but to be fair she had only done what she did as a last resort. It was just a slight mispronunciation that landed her here, not an agent of fate. Unless you consider Draco Malfoy to be an agent of fate, somehow the young pureblood had seemingly channeled his inner Gryffindor and thrown his body at her kneeling figure. He had knocked her to the ground for the purpose of moving her out of the way of a rather nasty dark curse. An action she was truly grateful for, but it had caused her to falter in her recitation of the spell's incantation. A mistake that had lead to the ancient spell reacting with her blasted time turner instead of her best friend's barely breathing body.
She supposed that she deserved as much for using such an archaic untested spell. She pledged that she would never use a spell written by Salazar Slytherin after this day, especially now that she had seen the penalty of a mistake. Regardless of the consequences she was honestly happy she had used the spell, but was sincerely disappointed that she had made such a big slip-up in her haste. As an example, she had saved Harry's life, but now they were in deep, deep shit.
As in potentially paradoxical shit.