Tom Riddle Jr / Hermione Granger

A Muggle Restaurant (location)

Lamp (word)

Prod (word)

Lord Voldemort sat in the restaurant chair; the plastic wood beneath him smooth and offering no comfort at all. He still made it look as if he was sitting on a throne, however, and he even managed to disguise the disgusted sneer on his face into one of disinterested blankness.

"My Lord," Antonin Dolohov started, "may I ask why we're situated in such a despicable location?" The toe of his boot gave a slight prod at a dead muggle, his whole demeanor acting as if it was a squashed bug on the floor. To him, it - she - was.

"You may ask, Antonin, but whether I may answer or not, is entirely dependent on my mood."

Antonin exchanged an uneasy look with Rabastan Lestrange; the wizard in question seemed to be completely at ease in the building that was crumbling around them; his feet were resting on the table and he was playing with the cutlery as if it was a foreign object.

"My Lord, why are we here?"

The fork that Rabastan was twirling between his fingers stilled. Antonin forgot to breathe.

"We're waiting for an acquaintance," their Lord answered. "They'll be here soon."

"May I ask why we're waiting here? Of all the places to meet, why choose a derelict food location? And one with such low hygiene levels at that."

"You are pushing your luck, Antonin," the Lord hissed, his face transforming from blank calm to one of pure anger. Antonin paled and stepped back, knocking a lamp off of the table, which had somehow managed to survive the previous attack, causing it to shatter on the floor. He winced at the sound, staring at the shards as if they were going to jump up and attack him.

"Oh, leave him alone," a female voice commented. "He's scared of getting infected by muggles."

The trio of wizards turned to face the new arrival, two of them raising their wands, whilst the other smiled with amusement.

"We're an infectious breed, didn't you know?"

"Hermione Granger," he chuckled. "I must admit, I was surprised that you actually turned up." He tapped a finger against his bottom lip. "I had even considered this to be an ambush."

"And yet you only brought three men." She raised a hand when Rabastan opened his mouth, his expression smug. "Into the building with you, I should add. Lucius and Rodolphus really don't look comfortable trying to look nonchalant and muggle on the pavement across the road and Draco looks like he's going to go insane on that rooftop."

Tom Riddle Junior laughed. "You're delightful," he commented. "Absolutely wonderful. Now, would you care to tell me why we're having this meeting?"

Hermione's eyes raked over his henchmen, his minions, both of whom were still poised to fire their wands whilst she was still unarmed. She reached for her back pocket, moving slower when their grips on their wands tightened.

She threw the parchment at Voldemort.

He caught it and stared at her for a few moments longer before breaking the wax, unravelling it and reading. His face turned blank, furious and then back to blank.

"How did this occur?"

"The Order," she answered with a shrug. "How else?"

"Why?" he asked. "Why did they do this?"

She hesitated before answering, "I began to doubt the war." She spoke softly, almost a whisper in the large room. "All this death and devastation was making me sick. I was tortured when I was eighteen, just for my existence."

"You know I would've stopped that," he reassured, "if I'd been told."

Antonin and Rabastan both looked confused.

"My Lord, we don't understand," Rabastan offered. "We'd be honoured if you could share."

"The Order killed Hermione Granger's parents, trying to frame myself for the action in a bid to tie her closely to them and their cause." The Death Eaters stared at her in shock. "But they didn't realise just who they were dealing with, did they?"

"Richard and Jean Granger are a couple that would never have been killed by you or your minions," she offered. "They may have given up their wands after the First Wizarding War, but they were still purebloods and were remaining neutral."

"Purebloods?" Dolohov questioned.

"Direct descendants from the famous potioneer, Dagworth-Granger," she offered, looking smug. Her amusement was wiped instantly as her thoughts returned to her. "Tom, I want them dead."

The Dark Lord rose from his throne and walked towards her, stopping right in front of her so that their chests brushed as they inhaled and exhaled.

"We'll watch the Order burn, my love," he vowed as he tucked a curl behind her ear. "But they won't rise from the ashes."

"Hermione!" Harry cried, staring at the girl he'd considered his little sister. "What have you done?"

"I've changed the war," she shouted back, arms spread wide so he could take in the destruction, just in case he hadn't noticed it beforehand. "The Order killed my parents, Harry," she told him. "I kill the Order."

"This isn't you," he told her. "You wouldn't betray me like this."

"There was a magical trace at my parents' home. For anyone less powerful than myself, they wouldn't have noticed it, but I did. It was a trace that I'm rather familiar with," she said, "considering I used to share a bedroom with her when I stayed at the Burrow."

"Ginny?" He shook his head in disbelief, and denial. "She wouldn't do that."

"But she did, Harry," she replied. "She killed my parents so that I'd think that Tom killed them to get to me. She did it on order of the Order in the hope to tie me closer to you and them." She smirked at her friend. "It didn't work."

"That wasn't me, Hermione. It was them!"

"It was," she confirmed. "I know that." She looked almost sad for a moment. "But I can't stand behind a group of people who would murder for no reason, just to ensure their alliance. Harry, that isn't me and, if you think about it, that isn't you either."

"He killed my parents, Hermione," he said to her, seeing where she was going. "I can't just forget that."

"Neither can I, Harry." She lowered her wand and stepped to the side, allowing Tom Riddle Junior to pass her. "Neither can I."