Green Eyes
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Hermione/Voldemort
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
22,484
Reviews:
18
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
3
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Hermione/Voldemort
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
22,484
Reviews:
18
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
3
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from these writings.
Green Eyes
Hermione swore as she fumbled with the tiny Timeturner in her shaking hands. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, and tears obscured her vision. Slowly, she turned the tiny hourglass again and again. By the eighth turn, her hands were shaking so badly that the Timeturner slipped, but she caught it and continued turning. Sixteenth turn...seventeenth turn.... she doubted any witch or wizard had ever attempted what she was about to do, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Somewhere outside, birds announced the arrival of morning. Hermione was standing alone in the middle of the shattered Great Hall of Hogwarts - or rather, she was alone in the fact that she was standing. Littered around her where corpses of people she had once known and loved. A few hours ago, Voldemort had affected the greatest massacre ever known in the wizarding world at Hogwarts School. Hermione's befuddled brain mused on the consequences of this as she twisted the Turner. I suppose we've lost the war, haven’t we? The tired words fluttered across her brain. Yes, I suppose we have, she mused.
Two corpses lay at Hermione's feet. Harry Potter's glassy green eyes surveyed his disembowelled ribcage incredulously. Ron Weasley's threadbare Chudley Cannons t-shirt was his only mark of identification - his head, with its trademark shock of red hair, was missing.
Hermione was trying desperately hard not to look at them.
She knew she didn't have much time until the Death Eaters returned. Somehow in the final heat of battle she had escaped death, but seeing that she was alone in doing so, she had played dead until the Death Eaters had left to celebrate their victory. Surveying the carnage, Hermione's malfunctioning brain had screamed one thing at her repeatedly - Make it stop! Make it STOP! Immediately, she had reached for the Timeturner hanging around her neck, unable to accept a present reality where her two best friends were not alive.
Eighteen...nineteen...twenty.
Hermione stopped turning, and took a deep, shaky breath. Everything's going to be all right, Hermione, she told herself. You've just got to destroy seventeen-year old Tom Riddle, before he grows up and destroys your entire world.
Quickly, she voiced the spell that would take her back to the year 1944, her wand hand surprisingly steady. The last thing she remembered was being engulfed by what seemed to be a golden tornado as the spell hit her with the force of a speeding steam train.
Morning light streamed into the skeletal Great Hall, and spilled onto the remains of the fighters. All once again became still.
...
BAM!
Hermione was slammed knees first onto soft grass. She heard two distinct cracks as she fell awkwardly onto her stomach, but couldn't connect the sound with her now broken kneecaps. Surveying her surroundings from the ground, she knew immediately that she had reached her destination in time, because there, in front of her, lay a much smaller, non-renovated version of Hagrid's Hut. Hermione drifted out of consciousness giggling non-sensically at the thought of Hagrid attempting to bake rock cakes in the puny shack.
....
Hermione came to much later. She was still lying in front of Hagrid's hut, which seemed to be deserted, and which glinted in the light of the setting sun. She tried to move but found she couldn't - whether because of over exhaustion, pain, or the combination. However, her mind was clear for the first time since watching Harry and Ron die.
With this realization, the memory of all that she had just experienced hit her like a second steam train to the stomach. Cold rain began to fall as she curled into a ball, crying for the innocence she had lost in watching her world mowed down by pure evil.
Hermione finally stopped when she saw that she was coughing blood. She remembered that she was a seriously injured, unprotected girl who had just strayed into a completely alien time period on a mission to kill. Hope infused her - all she had to do was find young, unsuspecting Thomas Riddle now and do him in, ASAP.
But how to accomplish this? She was saved from figuring this out by the sound of soft footsteps. A hundred metres or so to her right, a young man wearing flowing Hogwarts student robes was slipping out of the Forbidden Forest, heading back to the castle. Seeing Hermione sprawled on the grass in the twilight, he halted.
"'Scuse m-me! Need - please help. Hos- Hospital wing?" Hermione croaked, as he began to approach.
However, her relief slowly turned into powerful unease as the man came closer. He was tall and pale, with dark, wavy hair. His wet Slytherin robes defined broad shoulders and powerful muscles, and he moved with a confident, silky grace that struck Hermione as dangerous.
Wait - Slytherin? A Forbidden Forest-lurking Slytherin coming to her aid? This cannot be good, Hermione's pain-addled brain whimpered.
The young man was close now, his powerful form blocking out the setting sun. Hermione breathed in sharply - his face, she saw, was absolutely perfect. Tousled waves of brown hair fell onto chiselled cheekbones and into searing, grey eyes that surveyed Hermione emotionlessly. For some reason, Hermione felt ashamed to be lying there, rasping and broken, under his perfect, stormy eyes.
He raised one mahogany eyebrow, then turned and unhurriedly walked away.
"W- Wait! Please!" Hermione groaned after him. She knew that she needed medical treatment, NOW. What kind of person would just leave her out here in the dark? "I need help - please!" The man pulled out his wand and, without slowing his pace or turning around, silenced her with a flick of his wand over his shoulder, and a muttered 'Silencio'. He disappeared into the castle.
Hermione did not see him go - her eyes had widened to golf balls at the sight of his wand. She'd seen it before - oh yes, she knew that dark, gnarled, and glossy thing all too well. This wand had kept her in torture and chains in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. This wand had sent Harry and Ron to their grizzly deaths. This wand had glinted against the moonlight, raised in victory in the closing moments of the Great Battle.
She had just had her first encounter with young Tom Marvolo Riddle.
It wasn't until three hours later that the gamekeeper Felicity Dorcas found the dieing girl lying in the rain, in a pool of glittering blood. She was hurried, unconscious, into the hospital wing.
Somewhere outside, birds announced the arrival of morning. Hermione was standing alone in the middle of the shattered Great Hall of Hogwarts - or rather, she was alone in the fact that she was standing. Littered around her where corpses of people she had once known and loved. A few hours ago, Voldemort had affected the greatest massacre ever known in the wizarding world at Hogwarts School. Hermione's befuddled brain mused on the consequences of this as she twisted the Turner. I suppose we've lost the war, haven’t we? The tired words fluttered across her brain. Yes, I suppose we have, she mused.
Two corpses lay at Hermione's feet. Harry Potter's glassy green eyes surveyed his disembowelled ribcage incredulously. Ron Weasley's threadbare Chudley Cannons t-shirt was his only mark of identification - his head, with its trademark shock of red hair, was missing.
Hermione was trying desperately hard not to look at them.
She knew she didn't have much time until the Death Eaters returned. Somehow in the final heat of battle she had escaped death, but seeing that she was alone in doing so, she had played dead until the Death Eaters had left to celebrate their victory. Surveying the carnage, Hermione's malfunctioning brain had screamed one thing at her repeatedly - Make it stop! Make it STOP! Immediately, she had reached for the Timeturner hanging around her neck, unable to accept a present reality where her two best friends were not alive.
Eighteen...nineteen...twenty.
Hermione stopped turning, and took a deep, shaky breath. Everything's going to be all right, Hermione, she told herself. You've just got to destroy seventeen-year old Tom Riddle, before he grows up and destroys your entire world.
Quickly, she voiced the spell that would take her back to the year 1944, her wand hand surprisingly steady. The last thing she remembered was being engulfed by what seemed to be a golden tornado as the spell hit her with the force of a speeding steam train.
Morning light streamed into the skeletal Great Hall, and spilled onto the remains of the fighters. All once again became still.
...
BAM!
Hermione was slammed knees first onto soft grass. She heard two distinct cracks as she fell awkwardly onto her stomach, but couldn't connect the sound with her now broken kneecaps. Surveying her surroundings from the ground, she knew immediately that she had reached her destination in time, because there, in front of her, lay a much smaller, non-renovated version of Hagrid's Hut. Hermione drifted out of consciousness giggling non-sensically at the thought of Hagrid attempting to bake rock cakes in the puny shack.
....
Hermione came to much later. She was still lying in front of Hagrid's hut, which seemed to be deserted, and which glinted in the light of the setting sun. She tried to move but found she couldn't - whether because of over exhaustion, pain, or the combination. However, her mind was clear for the first time since watching Harry and Ron die.
With this realization, the memory of all that she had just experienced hit her like a second steam train to the stomach. Cold rain began to fall as she curled into a ball, crying for the innocence she had lost in watching her world mowed down by pure evil.
Hermione finally stopped when she saw that she was coughing blood. She remembered that she was a seriously injured, unprotected girl who had just strayed into a completely alien time period on a mission to kill. Hope infused her - all she had to do was find young, unsuspecting Thomas Riddle now and do him in, ASAP.
But how to accomplish this? She was saved from figuring this out by the sound of soft footsteps. A hundred metres or so to her right, a young man wearing flowing Hogwarts student robes was slipping out of the Forbidden Forest, heading back to the castle. Seeing Hermione sprawled on the grass in the twilight, he halted.
"'Scuse m-me! Need - please help. Hos- Hospital wing?" Hermione croaked, as he began to approach.
However, her relief slowly turned into powerful unease as the man came closer. He was tall and pale, with dark, wavy hair. His wet Slytherin robes defined broad shoulders and powerful muscles, and he moved with a confident, silky grace that struck Hermione as dangerous.
Wait - Slytherin? A Forbidden Forest-lurking Slytherin coming to her aid? This cannot be good, Hermione's pain-addled brain whimpered.
The young man was close now, his powerful form blocking out the setting sun. Hermione breathed in sharply - his face, she saw, was absolutely perfect. Tousled waves of brown hair fell onto chiselled cheekbones and into searing, grey eyes that surveyed Hermione emotionlessly. For some reason, Hermione felt ashamed to be lying there, rasping and broken, under his perfect, stormy eyes.
He raised one mahogany eyebrow, then turned and unhurriedly walked away.
"W- Wait! Please!" Hermione groaned after him. She knew that she needed medical treatment, NOW. What kind of person would just leave her out here in the dark? "I need help - please!" The man pulled out his wand and, without slowing his pace or turning around, silenced her with a flick of his wand over his shoulder, and a muttered 'Silencio'. He disappeared into the castle.
Hermione did not see him go - her eyes had widened to golf balls at the sight of his wand. She'd seen it before - oh yes, she knew that dark, gnarled, and glossy thing all too well. This wand had kept her in torture and chains in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. This wand had sent Harry and Ron to their grizzly deaths. This wand had glinted against the moonlight, raised in victory in the closing moments of the Great Battle.
She had just had her first encounter with young Tom Marvolo Riddle.
It wasn't until three hours later that the gamekeeper Felicity Dorcas found the dieing girl lying in the rain, in a pool of glittering blood. She was hurried, unconscious, into the hospital wing.