Title: Dark Hermione
Prompt: after dying during the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry finds himself in the future... where Hermione Granger is the new Dark Lord because the only person she ever loved, Harry Potter, had died.
Summary:
Hermione Granger sat with her feet up at the head of a long table, dressed slimly in tight black leather, and tall dark heels. Her brown curly hair was sleek with pomade, she was twirling her wand through it and casually chewing on liquorice gum as she stared down the line of her delinquent Ministry Officials, who were all cowering in her presence.
'Where's Weasley?' she sneered into the empty silence, blowing a black bubble that popped and made everyone jump.
A very plump, very sweaty looking Ron Weasley waddled towards his mistress, who rolled her eyes and took the parchment of today's roster from his greasy hands.
'Out!' Hermione swished her wand, shooting red lightening bolts at Ron's backside, which burst into flames as he ran yelling from the room. 'Bring in the prisoner!'
Her voice echoed off the high ceilings, another door at the opposite end of the room opened, and a snatcher dragged in an unkempt, unshaven man with uncut jet-black hair and untidy robes.
'Some simpleton, ma'am,' the snatcher said, 'pretendin' to be 'Arry Potter.'
The snatcher threw the man forwards, who collapsed in a heap at the foot of the table, before he collected himself and staggered to his feet. Hermione, who was bored by now of people claiming to be Harry, watched as the man pulled a pair of cracked wire-rimmed glasses from his pocket and put them on.
For the first time in years, Hermione did a double-take from her position at the head of the table, as those piercing green eyes stared unblinkingly back at her, horrified at what they were looking at. Whispers began to carry up and down the length of the table, as the heads swivelled from Harry, to Hermione and back again.
'It can't be.'
'Hermione? Is that you?'
There was a flash of green that filled the room. The bodies of the Ministry Officials went limp in their chairs, including the snatcher behind Harry. Hermione had risen from her throne and was marching towards him. He was instinctively scared, he took a couple of steps backwards before she was upon him, her worried face was inspecting him intently, and she pushed away his fringe, spotting the unmistakable scar that lay beneath.
'You're supposed to be dead!' she hissed at him in a whisper, her eyes wide in disbelief.
'I was,' Harry said with a gasp, looking her up and down. 'Hermione… what have you become?'
Hermione whimpered, flung her arms around him and began to cry. 'Harry. Please. Save me.'