Someday Sunny Skies

by the Almighty Cheez It

Words this Chapter: 3,913

CHAPTER TWENTY

An Ultimate Decision

Hermione couldn't believe the encounter that had just happened. The natural Hermione, the feisty, logical part of her (which was the one part of her that remained in connection with her past) tried to think of a rational explanation for Tom's behavior. However, she could find none, as she knew that there was no excuse for what he had done, and tried to do. She was just utterly confused about his intentions – it was not a Tom-like thing at all.

Hermione was still furious despite her confusion, of course. While she was unable to think of any reason for Tom's actions, she was completely revolted and angry at everything that had just happened. How had their relationship, very short yet very strong as well, quickly turn into something he seemed to think was physical? She was not at all ready for that kind of stepping stone, especially not with all the emotional turmoil she felt while she was trapped in the forties.

Hermione's vision was ultimately blurred with angry and distressed sobs, so it was more of a blind run as she meandered through the castle, trying to find somewhere – anywhere – to go. She had to get as far away from Tom as she could, but she had no idea where to go, especially with her sight as unclear as it was.

She strongly considered the Room of Requirement, which had, of course, always been an ideal place to wallow in her thoughts or just relax where nobody could find her. However, she was in no mood to run up many a staircase just to shrink in self-pity and hate for the person – creature – she had thought she changed. This also crossed out the option of sinking into bed in her own chambers, or taking a fresh visit to the Astronomy Tower. Aside from the unappealing distance, she did not like the thought of meeting a ton of students, just to have them take one look at her current distraught state and go spreading rumors.

So Hermione continued her aimless running, not having a stable destination. She didn't care. All she could think about were memories – strong memories of her entire life.

She was four, and was starting Muggle kindergarten. She was sitting next to a girl named Kelly Greene. She turned, and said hi to Kelly. Kelly took one look at her scholarly outfit; the too-large-for-a-four-year-old book clutched in her hand, and said, "I don't talk to losers." Hermione's heart sank as the rest of the class laughed.

She was seven, and the boy across the street took her favorite book and threw it in the lake. She had stared at Aaron McKinley, teary-eyed, and asked him why he did that. "Because you're a stupid little book-loving nerd," he had answered with a sneer, before he ran away in giggles.

She was ten, and she was huddled in the corner of the classroom as a storm raged on outside. "Hermione's a chicken!" the other kids would tease as they jumped out from behind a desk to scare her. "Hermione's scared of everything! BOO!" Hermione had cried until the teacher came to ward off the offending kids.

She was thirteen, a good two years after she had made friends, but they were no longer with her as she sat alone in the corner with her time-turner. She was just about to twist it a few times when Draco Malfoy of all people came parading down the hallway. He saw her time-turner, with wide eyes, and threatened to hex her if she didn't let him play with it. Ten minutes later, she left the hallway with stinging bruises.

She was sixteen, battling many Death Eaters over twice her size in the Hogwarts hallways. She thought with a shudder about the extreme possibility that all of her friends could be dead. She survived the night relatively unharmed, but the scar that remained in her memory would never leave.

She was seventeen, fighting in the Final Battle. She was seventeen, being sent back in time. She was seventeen, having been super close to rape by men old enough to be her grandfather, even though their appearance didn't show that. She was seventeen; fighting Grindelwald and watching Harry go back to her home. She was seventeen; falling in love with Tom Riddle –

Her mind stopped there, as she no longer wanted to think of Tom. Here I am, with my thoughts looping back to him, she thought bitterly, as she continued to run to nowhere. Her legs hurt, they stung with tire, but she didn't stop. She had to get away. She couldn't take it anymore.

She found an open door and rushed inside, despite the fact that she didn't know where she was. Luckily for her, there was not a person in sight, and so she shut the door and let out a derisive scream. Would life ever give her a break? Why did she have to be tested so?

She crumpled into the corner, knees to her face, arms around them. Her face, red and tearstained, was warm and vulnerable. Hermione had had enough.

I'm done, she thought seriously, choking on sobs still. I am done with all of this bullshit.

"I'M DONE!"

Hermione stood as abruptly as she had sat down. She grabbed a book she saw from a shelf nearby and threw it at the wall, satisfied with the pang it made. "I've had it. I'm going home."

Hermione let that last thought take over as she left the unknown room, making her way toward the Transfiguration classroom.

Tom was in a panic. He had looked far and wide for Hermione, desperate to tell her what had happened; that whatever had happened to her was done by Abraxas and that he would never hurt her. Not after all he had already done in her life.

He set about to thinking. If he had never been such a pessimist, if he had learned to deal with life's cruelties instead of creating some of his own, Hermione could have been a normal witch. She could have lived life with parents, best friends, and peers. She could have been spared from experiencing war and death of those she loved. Tom could have saved the woman he loved.

But now, it was too late. Even if he did decide to change away from becoming Voldemort, Hermione's past was still there. She would still have to live with the memories, whether they occurred in the new future or not. Tom's guilt trip would never end.

He glanced out of a nearby window and noticed how dark it was. Had he really searched for her all day? It wasn't nearly as dark when he had first started looking for her. Suddenly, he had a horrible thought: What if she was still with Malfoy? He could be doing anything to her; he hated her! He could be raping her – Tom shuddered – or even performing the Cruciatus on her! Of course, Tom knew she would be able to defend herself, but the thought was still sickening.

After the basic panic wore away and he gained some of his logic back, Tom realized that the Polyjuice Potion's effects only lasted an hour and that Malfoy's ulterior motive would to brainwash Hermione's mind into thinking that whatever was going on was being done by Tom, so he wouldn't risk the Polyjuice wearing off.

Still, while that calmed Tom a bit, it still meant that Hermione had been wandering the castle for hours, while Tom was trailing off, looking for her. He wanted more than anything to find that large mane of bushy hair…

Knock. Knock.

"Excuse me," a voice could be heard saying through the door before it opened to reveal an auburn-haired Dumbledore that she was now used to seeing. He looked like he was slightly expecting her arrival, which Hermione knew she shouldn't have been surprised about. That man literally knew…everything.

"Professor?" she asked confidently, not even nervous about her decision. Dumbledore opened the door wider, stepping aside so Hermione could walk through the archway.

"To what do I owe this lovely encounter?" he asked in that pleasant Dumbledore voice. Hermione's eyes watered slightly; it had been so long since she'd seen him, and now after only a few months in his presence, she would have to leave him again.

Hermione glanced around the room and noticed that they were not alone. Professor Slughorn, who looked a little affronted that he was being ignored, was sitting in a large chair near Dumbledore's desk. She scoffed at him, never quite forgiving his little tirade about Muggle-born inequality.

"I was wondering if we could speak alone," she stressed, not even bothering to look at Slughorn. "This is of the utmost importance."

Dumbledore's twinkle in that crystal blue eye shifted a bit, but he nodded all the same, seeming to realize that the topic of discussion had to do with the future.

"Horace," he said softly, turning to the Potions Master, "May I have a word with Miss Broston?"

Hermione had forgotten that she was still referred to as Skylar Broston, and watched while wheels turned in Slughorn's head, most likely wondering why he was being ditched for a student.

"Albus," Slughorn tried to argue, "We were talking about very imperative things, I don't know if I'll have the time to reschedule this meeting, that quill supply needs attending to…"

"Listen, Slughorn," Hermione butted in, not hearing Dumbledore's sigh. Slughorn turned to her, dislike written clearly across his face. "I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore, whether you like it or not. I'm sorry to say it to your pudgy little face, but he values what I have to tell him more than something about a stupid quill. So why don't you take your bulging stomach and leave the room before I get angry?"

Slughorn's mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish. "I – you – complete disrespect –"

However, he angrily shoved his body out of the doorway, briskly saying, "Some other time, Albus" as he left.

Dumbledore looked at the raging teenager in front him, knowing that "teenager" was one of the most inaccurate words to describe her. She was a teenager by age, yes, but her mind, body, and soul were completely beyond her years. He saw himself in this young girl.

"That was not necessary," he began, noticing how Hermione's eyes moved to the floor. "I could have easily removed Horace from my classroom without the degrading words."

"I was upset," she responded lightly. "In fact, I still am. Professor, I've had – I want – I'm done with this. I want to go home. I've had enough, and I'm leaving."

Dumbledore, for the first time ever, looked extremely shocked. "You want to leave this time," he clarified, "and resume life in your own?"

"That's exactly what I want," she confirmed. "If Tom Riddle is man enough to keep his stupid promise to me, he won't become Voldemort, and I'll have all of my friends back." The bitterness in her tone, mixed with sadness, was not missed by Dumbledore, and he walked over her and pulled her into a grandfather-to-granddaughter hug.

"It will all be all right, Hermione," he said wisely. "Whatever happens when you get back was meant to happen. Everything happens for a reason."

"Yeah, I've heard that before," she responded angrily.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "we do, in fact, have a way for you to get home. It's very complicated, but it gets the job done."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he said. He gestured for her to stand right in front of his fireplace. Confused, she did so. "Listen to me, Hermione. This is vital."

Hermione nodded, her leg idly kicking the rug beneath her feet. She looked up at him and waited as he pulled out a thick and old-looking book. She distinctly saw Olde Magick of the Darkest Times engraved on the front.

"This book was from Rowena Ravenclaw's own library." Hermione's jaw dropped. "Yes, I'm telling the truth. In fact, Salazar Slytherin himself wrote an inscription inside of this book. It does, in fact, date beyond the founders of Hogwarts, though they updated it with wizened words of their own.

"Let me read Salazar's passage to you:

Time. Time is indeed a tricky element. Seconds, minutes, hours. Days, weeks, years. It is all the same as far as Time is concerned. Time has no feelings, only limits. There have always, and will continue to always be, moments where Time would cut our opportunities off. Yes, Time is a tricky element.

Recently, my own friend Esther Borheg found a way to mess with the ways of Time. This practice that she has created was named Time Traveling. I would call this a pretty accurate name, for meddling with the course of time by switching through time periods would be considered as traveling, as journeying or voyaging. More to the point, Esther noted that there multiple ways to travel through Time. see Gordon Turner's inscription, page 317.

There are dangerous consequences about messing with Time, which anyone hoping to participate in this activity should know. That is also in Gordon Turner's passage, but while I am here right now, let me share with you something that no other researcher about this topic has been able to discover. When one travels through Time, ruining the course of the past or future, one is stuck there, unable to return. I have found a way against this."

Dumbledore stopped reading there, watching Hermione closely to see her reaction. Her eyes looked slightly bigger, and her face was pale. "What – how do I get back home?" she asked in a small voice. "What did Slytherin discover?"

"My child," Dumbledore said importantly, "you will find that out in but a moment, though for right now, I have a favor to ask you.

"When you return, go straight to my office. If Mr. Riddle has indeed kept his promise to you, I will be there, with this book, prepared to give it to you. If I am for some reason unavailable, in the case of death or other, I want you to go to my office and retrieve this book from its shelter."

Hermione registered this information. "Sir," she began, "Why do you want me to have this book?"

"It will become very handy later in your life," he replied cryptically.

Hermione nodded, still unsure. "And, professor, I don't know what the password to your office will be when I get home…"

"Right!" Dumbledore said loudly. "I've always had a way with those gargoyles, you know," he said as a side note. Hermione couldn't help but giggle; this was the Dumbledore she knew. "I always told them…see, when I become Headmaster after Dippet retires, I plan on naming my passwords after candy…though, you would probably already know that. Anyway, I have talked to them before, Randy and Albert are nice fellows…and I told them that if ever anyone said the phrase, 'Under immediate and dire circumstances, I demand entrance to this office,' whether it was my password or not, to let them in."

Hermione rolled all of this information into her head. The gargoyles that guarded the Headmaster's quarters were named Randy and Albert, and he had a specific phrase to gain anyone entrance. Yes, Albus Dumbledore was a strange man.

"But sir," she said after her giggles subsided, "Where is the book hidden?"

"I plan to hide it…" his voice trailed off and Hermione had to strain to hear, but she got the message.

"I will get it, professor. Thank you." Hermione turned away for a moment, now slightly unsure if she really wanted to leave the past. She had grown so accustomed to this time; what would going home be like?

"Hermione…" Dumbledore started in a soothing voice, seemingly reading her mind like he so often did. "Are you ready, dear?"

Hermione looked back at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I just began being happy again," she said softly. "After my entire life of unhappiness, I finally found what I had been waiting for." Her eyes sought the window, where she looked outside into the gloomy-gray sky. "After Ron died, I didn't ever think I'd be able to love again. And…I did…

"Professor," she immediately changed the subject as she looked up into his blue eyes, "I want you to do whatever it takes to get me back into my own time. I have had enough of Tom Riddle."

Dumbledore looked at her, sadness written all over his old face. "Very well," he said regretfully, flipping through pages of Olde Magick of the Darkest Times. "Step by the fireplace, dear, and close your eyes."

Hermione did as she was told, curious, scared, and eager all at once. She would be able to escape Tom Riddle, once and for all! Her heart broke, but she was still extremely upset with him. She had had enough of 1944.

"Imagine your past, the exact position you left it in," Dumbledore's voice said.

Hermione, while not too happy to have to relive the Final Battle night again, tried to gather every last detail about the scene she had left 1997 in. The people in the dormitory and where they were; what Voldemort was doing; who was dead…

"When you have done that, whisper the words, Arctateus Manou Futura."

"Arctateus Manou Futura," Hermione whispered.

"Repeat that, only louder…" Dumbledore instructed.

"Arctateus Manou Futura," she repeated in her normal speaking voice.

"Repeat it once more, in as loud a voice as you can manage," Dumbledore urged, now looking away from the book and right at Hermione.

"Arctateus Manou Futura!" she yelled, and felt an extreme sensation. Dumbledore was flying in and out of sight and she felt as though she were floating and being spun in wide circles. The last thing she saw before blacking out was the door to Dumbledore's classroom opening and someone with beautiful wavy dark hair came hurtling in.

Tom was extremely tired, but he would not stop searching for Hermione until he found her. He was still completely clueless at where she could be. He contemplated going back to the Slytherin common room to interrogate Malfoy, but figured that no good would come out of the encounter.

He was starting to get very frustrated, and even more worried. What if Malfoy had killed her? Okay, get it together, Tom thought unhelpfully. He would not even attempt that after all the fuss on Shmoe. Speaking of Joe, Tom wondered if Hermione had cracked the case. That was something he would just have to ask her…once he found her.

Tom completely skipped dinner in his serious search for his girlfriend, and it was starting to reflect on him. His stomach was churning, begging for food, but Tom would not nourish or rest until he found her. He was at a loss of what to do; he had been searching for hours, and as each hour passed, his hope lessened.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. Who did Hermione trust beyond anybody, other than Harry? Dumbledore. If she was anywhere, it was probably with Dumbledore, retelling her side of the Malfoy event to him. After all, she had nobody else to turn to in such a distraught state, after all, since she thought it was all Tom's fault.

Tom was berating himself for not realizing this hours sooner, but didn't let it get to him as he sprinted to Dumbledore's office. He avoided teachers and maneuvered around curious students, begging his legs to take him to his needed destination. This was urgent. He had to get to her, before she did something drastic.

"Move!" he found himself yelling when someone happened to be passing by Dumbledore's classroom door. Tom shoved the girl and reached for the doorknob.

The door opened easily, and Tom felt a distinct whoosh as he stepped in. Dumbledore was looking at the spot near the fireplace, so he figured someone had just Flooed away. Dumbledore heard someone enter, and turned to Tom, and looked extremely confused; an expression that Tom could tell was not usually on his face.

"Mr. Riddle?" inquired Dumbledore, motioning Tom to sit, but he didn't. His eyes flashed around the room at an admirable pace, looking around every nook and cranny.

"Where is she?" he asked quietly, his hope vanishing fast. "She's not anywhere in the castle. Where is she?"

Dumbledore looked as though some major wheels were turning in his head. "Mr. Riddle, I must ask you something, and it is of the most importance."

"Go," Tom said impatiently, not looking at Dumbledore, though his eyes were still searching the room frantically, as though thinking Hermione would pop out of nowhere.

"Were you…by any chance…with Hermione sometime after lunch today?" Dumbledore asked cautiously, though he thought he already knew the answer.

"No!" Tom all but yelled. "That bastard Malfoy trapped me in a fucking closet with that slut Persia Black! And I don't know what happened after that, but Malfoy used Polyjuice Potion to look like me and he did something to Hermione! I need to know where she is, Dumbledore! I need to know what he did to her! I have to tell Hermione that it was all Malfoy; that I love her and would never hurt her! WHERE IS SHE?"

Realization dawned on Dumbledore, and regret washed over his face. Very slowly, he walked over to the enraged Tom Riddle and patted his shoulder, a gesture he never would have attempted before Harry and Hermione's arrival. He looked through his half-moon spectacles down at the boy who had finally found happiness in his life of remorse, and spoke slowly, in a tired, repentant voice.

"Mr. Riddle…" Dumbledore, for the first time in his life, did not know what to say. He had no words. "Tom," he decided on, capturing the boy's attention, "As you predicted, Hermione was under the impression that you were the one who attacked her, and not Mr. Malfoy."

"Attacked? What did he do to her?" Tom demanded in a panic. Dumbledore held up a hand.

"My boy, she did not reveal details of the day to me. Now, let me continue, please." Tom looked reluctant, but he didn't say any more. "She thought, of course, that Malfoy was you, because of the potion. She came to me, claiming to have 'had enough'." Dumbledore paused, not wanting to inform Tom of the next event.

"Well, what happened?" Tom asked impatiently.

Dumbledore sighed. "My dear boy," he said, looking away, "Hermione has returned to her time."

Tom's heart shattered. "What?" he asked incredulously. "No…no…"

She couldn't have left him. Not right when he fell in love. It was impossible. It was preposterous. No…

He looked up at Dumbledore, who was looking down at him gravely and sadly.

"I'm sorry, Tom," he said kindly.

"NO!" Tom screeched, jumping up from the chair he was sitting in. "No…"

She was his reason for becoming someone other than a monster. She taught him things that no book ever could. He had done so much with her, and now she was gone. Tom was unable to believe it. He hesitantly made a decision that would affect not only his life, but many others' as well.

Tom left Dumbledore's office abruptly, and Dumbledore immediately knew what he had done. He had just ultimately, in that ten minute conversation with Tom Riddle, created the monster that would someday ruin Hermione's life. He had turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort.

W00t! Sorry for the wait, everyone, but I hope this makes up for it. It's not my best, but meh. Please review!