Second
"The boy's still alive! You… you must finish him, my Lord".
Although Narcissa Malfoy's trembling voice was barely more than a whisper, it cut through the heavy silence that permeated the air of the Forbidden Forest and reached the bystanders' ears within seconds.
Joined gasps of surprise and fearful murmurs rose from the crowd as Harry surged forward and grabbed his wand in an attempt of ending the battle in the Order's favor. But there was no time. The Expelliarmus died on his lips when Voldemort's killing curse meandered its way through the dying trees and hit Harry right in the chest.
Hermione just stood there, powerless, while his best friends' eyes went blank and lifeless, and roars and cheers erupted from The Death Eater's front lines.
Her agonizing shrieks filled the Forest with despair and tore her lungs apart as the wizarding world collapsed around her.
She woke with a start. Jolting forward and gasping for air, Hermione raked her fingers through her curls and sucked in a shaky breath to slow down her hammering heart. Countless times had she relieved Harry's excruciating death when the sun went down, but this time the nightmare had been particularly vivid and frightening. The sound of loud snoring and rambled sleep talk brought her back to reality, and Hermione started whipping her head around, suddenly aware of her surroundings. A jolt of electricity ran through her veins as she spotted the familiar red curtains and wooden floors under the dim light of the enchanted candles, and the yellow carpet with the proud Gryffindor house crest lying at the center of the room. She was back in her dormitory. Back at Hogwarts.
She blinked a couple of times and rubbed her eyes frantically, almost expecting the suite to vanish and the golden bubble in her dreams to burst, but seconds kept flowing and clocks kept ticking, and Hogwarts had never felt more real. Just a few minutes later, a shrill feminine voice broke the peaceful silence lingering in the room.
"Hermione, what's going on? I heard you scream. Are you okay?"
Never had Lavender Brown's voice touched her so deeply and sounded more musical to her ears.
"Yes, Lavender. Everything is fine, thank you for checking on me. I-I hope I didn't wake you."
Hermione answered, her voice shaking with emotions so intense she couldn't describe.
"No worries. I'm sure I don't need to remind you of our Potions class tomorrow morning."
If Lavender noticed anything off, she didn't show it. Her words were tinged with a pinch of tension and acrimony, and she knew full well it was due to their old rivalry over Ron's romantic attentions. But, this time, the matter didn't bother her in the slightest. After all, she was no longer sixteen…. was she?
This and many other interrogatives flooded her mind like an endless stream, but she fluttered her heavy lids and shook them off as Hogwarts's sweet winds lulled her to sleep and her eyes clenched shut. She would think about her problems tomorrow. For now, it was enough to be back and alive once again.
She was finally home.
Hermione always thought like everyone else, that lost time could never be found again. But, as she splashed cold water on her younger-looking face, letting her fingers trail over her delicate features while she looked in the bathroom mirror, she realized that she had been wrong all this time.
Yes, her lost years had been found again, and her sixteen-year-old reflection in the mirror was living proof of it. However, her appearance was just a deceptive golden façade concealing who she really was, or rather who she had become in a timeline that she no longer belonged to. And so, behind her well-rested, eye-bag-free hazel eyes and rounder cheeks characterizing her juvenile Hogwarts years, Hermione saw much more than a lighthearted teenager. She recognized the torment of a young woman who had lived through very dark and wicked times, and she could spot it in the melancholic and mature light in her gaze. She might have regained the looks of her younger self, but had she really recovered her lost time? She didn't have an answer to that.
Tucking her shorter but equally wild curls behind her ear and sucking in a deep breath to clear her thoughts, she mumbled a couple of distracted words to Parvati and Lavender and quickly made her way out, taking long strides over the corridors as expectation and euphoric anticipation came over her.
The Great Hall was exactly as she remembered: gleaming and majestic, with thousands of aristocratic floating candles that lit the wide space like shiny stars, and cheerful chattering coming from the four long wooden tables where students ate their meals. Her heart almost shot out of her chest when her eyes landed on the two figures walking and waving toward her.
"Good morning 'Mione! When Harry told me you were late for breakfast I almost choked on my pumpkin juice. What happened?"
Oh Ron, if you only knew…
She thought she might have forgotten what her two best friends' faces looked like, but, as Harry and Ron appeared in her line of sight, all the beautiful memories flooded her mind and overwhelmed her with intense emotions. Large tears of joy started rolling down her cheeks as she rushed through the Great Hall and greeted her friends with a tight and almost desperate hug.
"I have never been better." She answered in a trembling voice, almost choking on her words.
At the sight of her odd reaction, Harry and Ron's brows creased up with confusion and they exchanged a brief strange look.
"Are you sure you are feeling well? Did Malfoy call you names again?" Said Ron with a worried tone.
At the mention of the Death Eater's name, Harry's posture went taut and tense.
"We should keep a closer eye on him this year. I just know he's up to something." He stated, lowering his voice so that only Ron and Hermione would hear.
"No, Harry, it wasn't Malfoy. I just overslept this morning, that's all. I stayed up late finishing our Transfiguration essay, and you should think about it too."
She pointed her finger at him, knowing that attack is often the best defense. As expected, Harry and Ron dropped the conversation and invited her to take her seat as usual, discussing the upcoming Quidditch match. This gave her some time to tilt her head and direct her glare toward the Slytherin table.
Her eyes found the pale wizard with white blonde hair and took time to study him, gathering every detail that might be relevant to her plan. His pointy facial features were gaunt, sharper than she remembered, and deep, dark circles lined his silver eyes. A flicker of anguish darkened his gaze; Hermione immediately spotted it. After all, she knew that look full well herself. His usual arrogant and pompous stance was now replaced by gloom and pensiveness.
Draco Malfoy looked exhausted and tormented, with his lost, blank expression that made him look like a ghost. But Hermione had no sympathy to spare for him: he was nothing but a fearful bully that had made her life hell. And a bully with a Dark Mark on his forearm, too.
Almost like he felt her heavy look on him, Malfoy snapped out of his trance state, and his ice-cold stare swept across the room and came resting on her. As their eyes met for what seemed to be the longest heartbeat, something twinged in her stomach; something like disgust or revulsion, but she wasn't really sure.
Hermione lost herself in thoughts once again, wandering the possible paths she could take to make sure Dumbledore's death, just a few months ahead, wouldn't happen. This time, both knowledge and odds were in her favor: she knew exactly how events would unfold and who the parties involved were. She was well aware that Malfoy was working on repairing the Vanishing Cabinet to open a passage for Death Eaters, and she also knew that he would soon obtain the cursed Opal necklace that would almost lead to Katie Bell's death.
Her classmate was going to be found unconscious on November 2nd, right after the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. This meant that she had about a week to come up with a plan that would allow her to neutralize the effects of the curse. Monitoring the Malfoy and taking action when needed had to be her priority, and she had to be subtle and clever in doing so, to avoid raising any suspicions. She also had a lot to discuss with Dumbledore, Hermione considered. It was imperative to talk to him soon…
"Good morning, Hermione, Ron! Merlin Harry, you look like hell today!"
Her flow of thoughts trailed off when Neville, Dean, and Ginny made their way to the Gryffindor table, greeting the Trio with their usual warmth and cheerfulness that almost made her heart melt with commotion. She felt her vision blur once again as their friends jovially talked about classes, new spells, and Merlin, even love stories. Being a teenager had never been as wonderful.
Draco's current life and emotions were clouded by a thick cloak of darkness. As he soared through the air with his broom and felt the chilly autumn breeze tousling his silky hair like the gentlest caress, he couldn't help but wonder whether this was going to be his last Quidditch match.
The euphoria that had pervaded him for being chosen by Voldemort for this task a few months ago had abruptly simmered down, and all that was left now was crippling fear. It was like, all of a sudden, the gravity of what he had to do had crashed down on him. Most of all, he knew what fate awaited him and his family in the likely event that he wasn't going to be successful. Knowing his odds weren't high against one of the most resourceful and skilled wizards of all time was eroding him from the inside. His body must have sensed this because it seemed to have shut down any feeling that could further burden him and increase the weight on his shoulders.
None of the things that had brought him enthusiasm before were now sorting any effect on his psyche. Not potions class, not practice. Salazar, not even picking up fights with Potter, Weasel, and the Mudblood interested him anymore. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, or focus on anything else other than the Vanishing Cabinet and his mission. Every day was the same and tangled with the previous ones: he would stare at the ceiling all night, work on repairing the Cabinet, plan the next move, and then repeat.
Draco was jolted back to reality when the shrill sound signaling the start of the match rippled through the stadium, and the crowd erupted into animated cheers and chants. A headache was pounding at the back of his head, but he ignored it and hurled himself into the center of the field, his eyes frantically scanning the area in search of the Golden Snitch. Potter was always on his tail, as they were both gliding and twirling in the air to dodge the Bludgers. Although the Boy Who Lived had always been hostile towards him, just as much as he was, this year his enmity seemed to be exacerbated: Draco hadn't missed his suspicious glares in the Great Hall and his incessant whispering in the corridors. Was this only because of his father's imprisonment and involvement with the Dark Lord or did he suspect something more?
"What Potter, are you scared of your own shadow? Do you need me to carry you to the snitch?" Or maybe you need a drawing to recognize it?" He provoked with a half-grin meant to irritate his rattled rival.
"You are the only coward here Malfoy!"
His taunt proved effective, as Potter's shoves intensified, and he retorted with a tripping that almost threw the Gryffindor out of his broom. Around them, green and red players were tempestuously darting in the air and mingling in chaotic blasts of color. He ducked into one of the big slits in the lower edges of the stadium while one of the Bludgers missed him by mere inches. He could see the Golden Snitch now: glistening and zipping around at the speed of light. Both he and Potter spotted the flying object and surged up, sprinting through the wind and racing frenziedly to catch it first.
The cheering and clapping escalated from both Gryffindor and Slytherin's sides when the two seekers drew nearer the grandstands and slithered their way through the wooden structures. With a final spurt that required much of the energy he had left, Draco reached the whizzing golden sphere and whirled around to touch it, not caring about the strand of ruffled hair blurring his view.
But, as his arm extended and barely brushed against the small wings of the Snitch, his body was struck by a strong and thunderous electric shock, so powerful that he lost control of the broom and violently crashed against the Ravenclaw stand. Breakthrough pain flooded him, and he heard a snap somewhere around his ribcage while he slid across the cornerstones and plummeted to the ground with a dull thud. Snape's Cushioning Charm engulfed him too late to stifle his free fall completely and avoid significant damage.
Loud gasps rose from the mob, but he couldn't see what was happening around him: he felt forces abandoning him and his limbs shake uncontrollably while the pain took over.
"Stop the match, STOP IT NOW!"
McGonagall's rushed voice was the last thing Draco heard before blackness descended upon him.
Hermione's muttered incantation hit the snitch just seconds before Malfoy reached it. She had cast the spell last minute to avoid accidentally striking Harry instead of her target, and she felt victory and a sense of satisfaction swell in her chest as her move was successful. Her plan was to debilitate Malfoy and make sure his stay in the Hospital Wing would prevent him from placing the cursed necklace into the hands of an Imperiused Katie Bell.
She knew the risk of severely injuring Malfoy was high, and her past self might have never acted in such a way. But the need to slow down the Death Eater's plans had prevailed and flashing images of a peaceful future with her loved ones gave her the strength to carry out the task.
But, at the sight of Malfoy slamming on the field and spasmodically shaking before going limp, she couldn't help but flinch, while a feeling of heavy guilt came clutching and burdening her heart. Had she killed him? As much as Hermione despised her Slytherin classmate and was willing to do anything to hinder his plans, she didn't wish death upon him, nor was she willing to take reckless measures unless it was absolutely necessary.
She did not enjoy killing. Every wizard fallen by her wand came tormenting her in her sleep, and the dread on their faces right before the killing curse struck would forever be imprinted in her memory. Although Hermione briefly considered, she wasn't technically a killer anymore, at least not in this timeline.
When a rather flustered McGonagall ordered the end of the match and rushed into the field, followed by Snape and Madam Pomfrey, Hermione found herself holding her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene. This time, she was not in control. She had no idea how events would play out and what the potential repercussions could be.
"He's breathing! Leave it to me, he's going to be okay in a couple of weeks."
She let out a sigh of relief at Madam Pomfrey's words. Everything was fine.
"Stupid git. I bet he's making up this scene because he knew he was going lose!"
Sat right beside her, Dean and Neville were protesting fervently and stirring up the Gryffindor crowd, which was now expressing dissent and advocating for the match to resume. Hermione couldn't hear them, though. Her mind was set on one single concern: what if Malfoy had already obtained the necklace from Borgin and Burkes? If this was the case, she wouldn't be able to get it while he was still injured and destroy it so that there was no way to retrieve it.
The spoiled coward could potentially wait for his recovery and use the necklace on a different day, which could lead to much worse repercussions than the previous timeline. This way round, if done at a different time, the curse could strike and kill the target that the pendant was intended for.
Not only would Hermione's efforts to perform the Extermina Tempore Spell and erase time be futile, but Dumbledore's preliminary death could have disastrous, unprecedented consequences that she wasn't able to foresee. Her world might turn out, after all, to be even darker than the one she had lived through. It didn't take much for Hermione to realize she couldn't afford to take that risk. She had to check if Malfoy had the necklace, and she had to do it as soon as possible.
Notes: If you enjoy my story, I would really appreciate it if you left me some feedback :) I am writing for my readers after all, and any suggestions would help me improve as well!
-Ari