A/N: My god, you all need to control yourselves! I promised you that this fic would have a happy ending, so why would I just kill off Tom and leave it there? Anyway, you need to have faith in me! Trust thy author!

Disclaimer: Harry: Mione's back!

Ginny: Yay!

Hermione: -Sob-

Hermione's Inner Malfoy: -Smirk-

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Chapter 15: A Girl-Who-Lived

The first thing Hermione felt when she woke up was her head. It was roaring with fire and she really thought the Knight bus had hit her. She groaned and raised a hand to her forehead to touch the sensitive area, before wincing and pulling it away.

She realized with a jolt that she wasn't lying outside in the snow where she had passed out, but inside on what felt like a soft bed. Her eyes wouldn't open, so she blindly groped around next to her. Yup, cotton. Her fingers snagged a mess head of hair, and she blindly opened an eye. Someone giggled. A boy with shaggy black hair smiled back at her, pretending not to see her hand entwined in his hair. He waved to her and she tried to prop herself up on her elbows.

"No, no, stay down. It will keep your scar from hurting." She complied, wondering what he was talking about. He was the one with the scar and the past week had just been a dream. Tom was Voldemort, and she was in 2nd year after being woken up from being petrified. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. She didn't fall in love with Tom Riddle because Tom Riddle couldn't die. She blinked and looked back at Harry. Sitting next to him was Ginny.

"Wha- wha happed?" she mumbled as her head tinged with pain. "Was rog wif my hed?" Harry gulped and reached for something on her nightstand. He gave her a mirror, and she feebly took it, positioning it so she could see her head. On her forehead was a lightening bolt scar. She looked at Harry. His face was unmarked.

She was the girl-who-lived. Rosier had tried to kill her, but since Tom had sacrificed himself for her, she didn't die. It had rebounded onto Rosier and since he didn't have any horcruxes, he had died instead. That meant it had been real. And Tom really was gone. She gave Harry the mirror back and picked up her left hand. She still wore her engagement ring. It twinkled warmly, but she felt colder than before. She shivered, but there was no Tom to fetch her a blanket. It was over, she had done her job.

She closed her eyes.

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When she woke again, the weight on her head had been lifted. She sat up and looked about the room, half expecting Tom to be hovering over her, anxiously looking her over for bruises. She was alone, back in the modern infirmary. It no longer felt like home. Everything felt like it was in black and white, all different shades of gray.

"Feeling lost, Ms. Granger?" She turned to see Professor Dumbledore sitting in the chair Harry had been in earlier, appearing as if from no where. He didn't surprise her, she was sure nothing ever would surprise her again.

"Just a tad." He nodded.

"Well, first I must ask you to recount what happened that night in the forbidden forest over 50 years ago, before I can give you any answers to your own questions." She winced. No, I don't want to think about that.

Don't start that again, you have to keep going, a new voice from the back of her mind told her. That voice almost made her cry.

"I decided to go for a walk in the forest, most unwisely," she started, looking down at her ring. Why was it still twinkling? "Rosier cornered me, but Tom stepped in. Rosier told Tom to step aside so he could kill me, but Tom refused. They went back and forth until Rosier lost his temper and killed Tom." She glared at the ring. It was mocking her. It had some nerve. "Then Rosier tried to kill me, but it wouldn't work. Rosier died instead and I panicked and used the timeturner to come back to the present." She looked up, ashamed, and met his gaze. To her anger, but not surprise, he smiled, eyes glittering with imaginary stars like that damn ring.

"I'm afraid that I see a flaw in your story, Ms. Granger."

"And what would that be?" He pressed the tips of his fingers together and peered at her over his spectacles.

"Because, my dear, Tom Riddle is not dead." Ok, now that surprised her.

"Excuse me?" No, this is a joke. A very cruel joke. No one survives Avada Kedavra if they aren't protected!

But you said it yourself; I'm not a normal wizard, that new voice whispered. Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"No, Tom Riddle is not dead, and I have no idea why. For the past half century he has been residing in a non-responsive coma in a private room off the hospital wing.

Told you so, whispered the other voice. He wasn't dead! She had left him in the snow, alone. He had gone into a coma!

"But… how?"

"Well, I don't know how he survived, but I believe I know how you survived, if you're interested. In my opinion that is the most striking detail." She nodded, wondering herself, though she had a hunch she already knew why. "It is my belief that when tom sacrificed himself to protect you, he made it so that no one could harm you. That seems to be the cause of Mr. Rosier's demise. What puzzles me is why young Tom didn't die as well, as there was nothing protecting him…" he tapered off as Hermione dissected this information. She had a vague hunch as to why he had lived now. She had sacrificed herself for him, trusting him and going back in time with no one to support her at all. She had given up everything for him. And now she was the girl-who-lived. She had taken Harry's place taken his scar even. Tom had protected her. Tom! She had to see him!

"May I see Tom?" she asked, and he gave her a small smile.

"Of course. But I must warn you that 50 years have passed since you've seen him last."

"So he's 70 years old?" Dumbledore grinned, his twinkle seeming to say, I know something you don't know.

"You would think, wouldn't you?"

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Hermione peeked her fluffy head around the door, wondering what she would find. It would be a horrible ending to a horrible tale if Tom were a 70-year-old non-responsive old man when she saw him.

"I'll leave you two alone," Dumbledore told her as she stepped into the room. It was dark, lit by a single flickering candle on the table beside the bed. The professor gave her a gentle push towards it, before closing the door.

She took a deep breath before sitting down in an armchair beside him and opening her eyes. He looked just as he had when she'd left him, minus the blue lips. She gasped. He still looked seventeen, his hair slightly coiffed and his eyes closed. His mouth was partly open, revealing tow rows of perfect white teeth.

"Oh Tom," she breathed. This was amazing, this had never happened before! It couldn't be real, she had to be dreaming. She pinched herself, but the world stayed the same. "Bloody hell, you're real." Without realizing what she was doing, she moved onto the bed beside him, sitting with her legs bent underneath her.

Don't just sit there, you fool, help him, her Malfoy conscience drawled.

"What am I supposed to do?" she said aloud.

Think rationally, her Tom conscience observed. What haven't I had for 50 years?

"Me?"

Duh, the Malfoy voice added. She wiped a small tear from her eye before pushing his hair off his face. He didn't move.

"It didn't work."

Well of course not, Granger, hairs don't have nerve endings! His hand rested above the white quilt by her knee. She closed her eyes and rested her palm over his knuckles. The bed shifted.

"Hermione?" a small voice mumbled. It had worked. She opened one eye and saw a very confused, but very much awake Tom staring up at her. "Bloody hell, what's that scar?" She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and threw herself down on top of him, resting her head between his shoulder and his neck.

"Thank Merlin you're okay," she stammered hopelessly as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Of course I'm ok. Sh, I'm here."

"I really thought I'd lost you." He kissed her temple lovingly.

"You could never lose me, because to lose me I would have to leave you, and I will never ever leave you." She blinked against his skin, just enjoying feeling close to him.

"Welcome to the future, Tom," she whispered softly. "People are a lot more open these days." He stiffened unconsciously, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh?"

"And I doubt Mme. Pomphrey or Dumbledore will be coming back any time soon," she added as she moved to straddle his stomach. He looked up at her anxiously; understand what she was hinting at. But he didn't stop her.

"We can always just lock the door," he whispered innocently, before breaking into a full on Riddle smirk.

"That sounds good to me," she responded, before leaning down to kiss him. He didn't even have time to lock the door, nor did they silence the room.

Not that anyone would dare interrupt Tom Riddle as he lost his innocence, so to speak.

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A/N: HAHA, I loved that last line. Why do I always use that clichéd line, you ask? Cause it's fun! Anyway, all that's left this epilogue now. I know! -Sob- It's gone so fast! And I won't give you a teaser, cause it's the epilogue, and it's tacky to teaser an epilogue, right? Anyway, did I totally blow your mind with the whole girl-who-lived thing? Comments? REVIEW! I STILL WANT TO GET TO 200! And check out my new fan fic, Where White Meets Black, it's Dramione, but I'm proud of it!

Final word Count: 1727