Demented
A/N: Constructive criticism and reviews are appreciated.
It was over.
It was over.
It was all over. He struck—and they were too blind to see it.
He had her caged up—caged up like a little bird. And what did he call her? Oh, yes, his 'little lover'.
It was ironic, actually.
Here he was, standing above them all as they crumbled beneath him and he talks about how love makes people weak—how it was nothing but a frivolous human endeavour pursued in false hopes. And then he calls her his little lover.
His. Little.
Lover.
..
How did it end like this?
"Time Lore," he spoke, "such a funny thing, isn't it?"
….
They were sitting in the Great Hall, chatting amongst themselves. It had been a year since Voldemort was defeated and the Wizarding World couldn't be happier. One last year at Hogwarts, finally in peace.
Harry and Ginny had gotten together again. And Ron and Hermione…well…it didn't really work out. It wasn't Ron's fault she couldn't commit to the relationship.
Because deep down, he was still in her mind.
And she hated herself for it.
….
She woke up. Her head was throbbing.
She was on the ground while the rest of Hogwarts was chained around the room. Harry and Ron were behind her.
She heard a velvety voice. 'No, please don't tell me it's….'
"Well, well, well," a cold voice drawled "you're finally awake. I couldn't kill Potter without you watching, could I?"
"Leave her alone!" she heard Harry shout behind her.
"Quiet, Potter. The adults are talking."
Ron spat out blood.
…..
"He's back! H-he's back!"
McGonagall went down.
He struck them—he struck them all.
They were sitting in the Great Hall for what was supposed to be their last day at Hogwarts—their Graduation Ceremony. It was supposed to be a happy day with all the students of their year. With Harry and Ginny, with Ron and Lavender, with her as the Head Girl. They were supposed to be done with the War. They were supposed to be happy.
But it's never that way, is it?"
There he stood, devilishly handsome wearing a suit in the midst of it all. Like the blood around him was just to add to his amusement.
People were running left and right. And just when they'd finally thought they'd find peace, when they finally thought they would live their lives—he struck. Like a snake circling on its unsuspecting prey, he struck.
And then he caught her gaze.
Run.
She didn't look back. She couldn't look back. 'How—how—'
Harry and Ron were on her sides. They were running, striking, running, striking. And then she froze. The whole world froze.
"Hermione…" he cooed "You should be more careful, love…." And to my horror, I saw him standing there—standing in front of with the Time-Turner.
Dumbledore's Time-Turner.
..
Fuck.
….
"Professor Dumbledore, is there really no other way?"
"I'm afraid not, Harry. Time is of the essence." At Dumbledore's prodding, McGonagall reached into his desk and took out a wooden box which contained a very precious Time-Turner. The only Time-Turner of that kind.
"Now, remember that you won't just be using any Time-Turner. Ms. Granger, I entrust this to you. You know the laws."
Dumbledore looked at them gravely from his portrait. They stood in his office, bags packed. They were ready.
'No, we're not.'
….
We went back. We went back to stop him. We went back so that we could figure out the location of his last Horcrux, the one we didn't know.
At least, we thought we could.
We were fools.
"Oh, Hermione," he drew her name out, making a fool out of her, mocking her. She wanted nothing more than to kill me. Obliterate him.
Destroy him.
She clenched her fists and glared at him with all the hate she had for him in her heart.
"You know, your antics never ceased to amuse me. To think that you, a little mudblood, could actually defeat me, the Greatest Wizard of all kind?"
Yet it killed her to see him like that.
"Guilt." He spoke, looking amused. "You feel guilty."
…
They were at Dippet's Office. Quite different from Dumbledore's. It was more organized, neater and tidier—Hermione hated it. She may like things organized, but just seeing that Dumbledore's—no—Dippet's office resembled nothing of Dumbledore's was enough to raise her hate. She wanted something to remind her of her time at Hogwarts—anything.
Harry had his fist clenched. Ron was clenching his jaw so hard she was sure it would break.
They were put in Slytherin. Not that they had a choice, really. They had asked the Sorting Hat to put them there because it was where they needed to be.
At least they would be able to go back to their time when this nightmare was over.
Thank God.
"Now, since you're new here we'll have to have someone show you to your rooms."
No.
"Our Head Boy will be showing you around. He should be coming any minute, actually."
No.
"Ah! Mr. Riddle, dear,"
NO.
"Professor," he walks in, clad in white shirt and black trousers, looking innocent, charming, like the prefect student.
Harry was right.
They knew Riddle was everything but.
"Remember, do not fall for his antics. In the end, his act is as much of a façade as yours." Dumbledore had told them.
"Mr. Riddle, I've called you here so that you may see to our new students. They came here escaping from Grindelwald. We have Mr. Harry Potter, Ms. Hermione Potter and Mr. Ron Miller."
Harry put up a perfect polite smile. Ron was harder to contain. She held is hand to pull him back and he eased.
Riddle smiled at them. She smiled back.
…..
Dumbledore put her and Harry as brother and sister simply because it was the easiest thing to do. Ron, on the other hand, couldn't pass off as a sibling. "It's my red hair isn't it?" he had laughed it off. At least he had found humor in a situation like this.
That was something she always envied in Ron, she supposed. How he could just let things so. She naturally overthought everything so it never worked for her.
…
"So, Ms. Potter, please do not mind me asking but why exactly did you, your brother and Mr. Miller come here?" he was digging. She knew.
They were heading to Arithmancy. She shared the same schedule as Riddle—God knows why she was being punished like this—so Harry and Ron deemed it appropriate for her to start, well, honestly, she didn't know what she was supposed to start.
They came here to figure out where he put—or would put—his horcruxes. They knew they had to do it before school ended, so they were in his 6th year.
'Well, as Professor Dippet said, we were running away from Grindelwald. Harry and I lost our parents—they were Aurors—" she paused for an effect. If he needed to know that she was genuine then she was going to have to act like it. She looked like she was about to cry. He stopped walking and looked at her.
"I truly am sorry for your loss." The way he spoke was so pure, so genuine. And his face, his face…….. His face was aristocratic, perfect in every conceivable way. She bit her inner cheek in annoyance. 'How could someone so evil be so…...' The word was beautiful. Handsome somehow felt wrong. It wasn't strong enough.
Painstakingly beautiful. But she would never admit that.
If she hadn't looked into his eyes, she might have almost bought the act.
But his eyes.
His eyes.
The eyes are the one part of our body that open up to our soul, no matter how much we want to hide it. And when she looked into the pools of forest green, she could see the darkness. Could see the evil lurking underneath all that beauty, all that grace.
It wasn't going to fool her.
…..
He was sitting on Dumbledore's chair without a care in the world, like he didn't just chain everyone to the ground, save Professor Binns. Well, with the way he sat in it, it was more of a throne than anything else, really.
"Why, Granger? Why do you feel guilty? Did I hurt you?" he asked in mock care. His legs were crossed as his arms rested on the armrests. Harry and Ron were chained right behind her. And she was magically bound right in front of him.
She closed her eyes.
It hurt to look at him.
…
They competed in classes.
He'd answer, then she'd answer, then he'd answer. A battle of wit. A battle to see who'd win.
He was first taken aback in their first class together. He saw her answer again an again. It satisfied him a little to see that he finally had somewhat-worthy competition.
"I didn't know you had such knowledge on Arithmancy, Ms. Granger." He raised a brow.
"Not only Arithmancy." He heard the undertone. It was a competition.
…..
"I feel guilty. Guilty because your past ruined you." She slowly spoke out. He sneered.
"So, you pity me, is more like it?"
"Your past, your parents, everything, everything ruined you. And the worst part is that, if you had been raised differently, you could've been great." Hermione's head throbbed again before she fell into unconsciousness once more.
He said nothing.
….
She spent more and more time with him.
It just started off as coincidental meetings in the library. He'd come and sit next to her. To the untrained eye, it may seem like he's trying to get to know her. But she knew better.
He was digging for information.
Despite him being an evil sociopath, she enjoyed her conversations with him. Each of them challenged her mind someway. He was the only one who she could actually have intellectual conversations with—the only one who could actually keep up with her train of thought.
He always tended to put a twist on her morals, though. On what's right and what's wrong. She'd never fall for it, though.
They had come here for a purpose—to find out the location of his last Horcrux, the one they couldn't find. And hell be damned if he thought that he could twist her to the dark side, no matter how seductive his velvet words were, no matter how they caressed her, urged her to take his side, to give into the dark.
She wouldn't fall for it.
All their times in the library were like this, were the same, were just as the last—until they weren't.
"You can't possibly thing that using Dark Magic is right! How could something so evil—"
"That's what I mean, Granger. There is no such thing as Evil Magic. All magic can harm in some way or the other, regardless of it's form."
"I understand that, but—"
"Let's put it this way." He interrupted her. He had a tendency to do that when he was annoyed. She let out a breath and leaned back in her chair, crossing her hands.
They were sitting in the Muggle History section of the library. He'd always bring her here, saying he wanted privacy.
'Privacy so that he can kill me.' She thought bitterly. It wasn't too far off. His immoral ideas did just that.
"You know the levitating spell, right?"
"Of course, I do! I'm not a first—"
"Let's take that spell for an example." She groaned into her palms. She hated when he cut her off condescendingly like a little kid. He raised a brow but said nothing. "Would your morally strongmind—" he sneered "—consider that evil magic?"
"No."
"Now let's say that I used that spell and threw a child in the lake. The child can't swim, he dies. But does that make the spell evil? No. Magic itself isn't evil, Granger. The way you use it makes a large difference."
She finally looked up.
"You have a point, yes—" he looked pleased "—but has your brilliant mind considered the fact that the reason Dark Magic is called evil is because the spells themselves are directly intended to cause harm?"
She waited for him to speak but he didn't reply, so she went on.
"'Wingardium Leviosa' can cause harm depending on how it's used, but it wasn't intentionally created to cause harm, whereas the killing curse was made to kill. It is what it's meant for. You may not use it that way—well, it's not like you can use it any other way either, but for Dark spells in general you get the idea—but it's made for that."
He looked at her—no, he bore his eyes into her soul. She felt like was on fire under his gaze. It was suffocating her, trapping her, mesmerizing her—she hated it. And when she saw that look in his eyes, that look that made her feel like fresh meat, she should have run. At that moment, she should have run. But she didn't.
And she regretted it like hell.
He pushed her to the shelf and kissed her.
She ran out.
…
"Where—what—" She finally completely regained consciousness. She turned her head back to where she heard Harry before.
"Harry! Ron!"
Harry was on the floor in the middle of the room. The Death Eaters were circled around him. His leg was bleeding violently and his left arm looked broken. Right behind him she saw Ron being held by the Death Eaters. At least they were alive.
….
They found the horcrux—the last one. How fitting that it was another book, of all. It was hidden in the very cave that the Salazar Slytherin's Locket was in, right under the pot with the liquid.
"He was—he was—Dumbledore was tortured here when-when he drank it." Harry was sitting in front of the cave, head in his hands. Ron put a hand on his shoulder.
"Harry..." Hermione trailed off.
They couldn't destroy the horcrux in this time, no. They'd have to get it from the cave in their time because if they destroyed it now, he'd know.
Now that they knew where the last Horcrux was, they could finally return to their time. And Hermione would never have to see him again.
Or so she thought.
…
Harry had defeated Voldemort. It was finally over.
And now, they could spend their last year in peace.
…
He rose from the chair and began walking to her.
He bent down to where she was kneeling on the floor, dragging his thumb on her bottom lip. She tried to move away but she couldn't. She was still bound by magic. So, she bit his thumb. He pulled away and smirked.
"Don't touch her—" the Death Eater kicked Ron. He howled in pain.
"How—how did you—" she was lost. So, so lost. And to say she was furious was an understatement. She wanted to kill the son of a—.
"How did I what?" he asked innocently.
"How did you get here?" Harry finished for her. She grit her teeth.
"Ah, finally begun asking the right questions, have we….." he walked behind her to get to Harry. She felt the magic that held her captive push her back to kneel in front of Dumbledore's Throne. She refused to call it Riddle's.
"Well, you so were foolish enough to think that that you could actually defeat me, of all people—" he laughed mirthlessly. It was a hollow, empty laugh. 'Just like him.' "—that you didn't actually consider the fact that I wouldn't let you go back to your time so easily."
"What are you saying, Riddle?"
"I'm saying that you didn't bother to notice that I had come in with you to the future…or rather…...the present…" He was smirking above Harry as he slowly bled to death. And that was when Hermione realized.
"The Time-Turner!" his eyes snapped to her in what could only be called desire. "But how—how did you—that spell is so complicated—"
"Dumbledore underestimated me, the fool…" he sneered.
"Dumbledore is not a fool—" Harry began.
"The spell Dumbledore cast on the Time-Turner to allow you to return to the present was a rather tough one, and it took me some time to get it right, I must admit." He shied away in faux embarrassment.
"But where did you get another Time-Turner to cast the spell on?" Harry only grew more agitated and though he knew that this might anger Riddle, but Harry didn't care. He wasn't afraid anymore.
Riddle turned to Hermione.
"Well, I may have been able to get it from Hermione's neck when I was kissing her—"
"NO!" Hermione screamed.
"Her—Hermione?" Harry and Ron looked at her in betrayal. Riddle turned back to Harry.
"Oh, don't be horrified Weasley. I can assure you that she pushed me away and ran." Harry's eyes softened and so did Ron's. "Now, I think it's time that we end this once and for all, Potter. Rise."
Harry pushed himself off the ground. His leg was still bleeding violently but he was thankful that he hadn't broken his wand hand.
"We duel, Potter."
Sparks flew from both wands. It was at this moment that Harry wished he hadn't destroyed the Elder Wand. He knows he doesn't stand a chance. He can feel his magic slipping, he can feel himself slipping.
"Harry, NO!" Ginny screamed and kicked the Death Eaters to try and reach him. "HARRY!" Hermione and Ron shouted. Ron clawed at the Death Eaters and Hermione tried to move, but she couldn't.
Harry fell the ground, barely conscious. His wand was in Riddle's hand.
"Now, now, we can't have you die yet, Potter. I want Granger to watch, watch as everything around her burns."
"NO! NO DON'T—" Hermione willed herself to move. She couldn't. He was really going to win.
And they couldn't stop him this time.
Ginny finally managed to escape from the Death Eaters grip but the moment she was three steps away from her, Riddle sent her flying against the wall with a flick of his hand.
"Don't—don't hurt her…." Harry choked out. His vision was blurry.
Riddle turned away from them and slowly walked to Hermione.
"Look at me."
She didn't open her eyes.
"Look at me." He took her face in his palm and made her look at him. To any on-looker it may have looked like a loving gesture—one those deeply in love would share. But that wasn't it.
It would never be.
He was a cold, cruel, heartless monster. A murderder. And he could never love anyone.
Ever.
He lifted the spell off her and she immediately tried to claw her way to Harry, but he had her pinned against him with one hand. "I want you to watch as they die."
He slowly lifted his hand and pointed it at Ginny.
"Her first, love." He whispered in her ear.
"No, Ginny, NO—" Hermione, Ron and Harry screamed.
Just as the jet of green light hit her, she and Harry mouthed to each other. "I love you."
She fell to the ground in a thud.
Riddle sneered.
"Pathetic sentiments. Even before dying that's all you can think about."
"A heartless bastard like you would never know what love is!" Hermione screamed. He only chuckled. '
Harry slowly crawled over to Ginny. He was holding her in his arms. Ron kicked away from the Death Eater to get to Ginny but just as the Death Eater was about to grab him again, Riddle spoke nonchalantly. "Let him go. Let them grieve before they ultimately die."
Hermione struggled against him. "Not you, though." He breathed.
"You BASTARD! You won't win!" Ron screamed at Riddle. His head was bleeding, but he didn't care anymore.
He lazily pointed his wand at Ron.
"Ron, NO—"
She was sobbing now. Her friends were dying. They were all dying.
This is the end.
This is the end.
This is the end.
"And now, Harry Potter."
He raised his wand. "Please…." Riddle's eyes snapped to the meek voice he heard.
"Please, Tom…" he looked at her. She was pleading him, tears in her doe eyes, begging him not to take Potter's life. For a moment, just for the slightest moment, he felt guilty for what he was about to do.
He frowned at her.
"How do you make me feel things…..." she didn't hear him. She was looking at Harry.
He looked at her again before raising his hand.
"No—"
He pointed his wand.
Harry gave her a smile. A weak smile. For a split second, she wondered if he was right, if everything would be okay, because she knew that was what he was trying to tell her.
Harry.
"NO—"
The spell left his mouth.
"NO! HARRY—HARRY NO!" she fought him to death to get away from him. She clawed, scratched, hit—did everything she could to try and get away while he muttered sweet words into her ear.
They meant nothing to her.
It was over. She knew it was over. And he'd keep her alive to show her what he did to her world. Her precious world. And all his words, all the sweet words he whispered into her ear as she watched everyone die, all he ever said meant nothing to her.
She knew that his words meant nothing.
She knew that the kiss he gave when she cried meant nothing.
She knew they meant nothing.
He destroyed her life.
'Because In the end, his act is as much of a façade as yours.'
….
Or was it, really?
Fin.
A/N: Constructive criticism and reviews are appreciated.