Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don't sue. Not that this disclaimer would stop you.

Prologue

She carved into his skin with practiced ease. A few years ago she might have balked at the idea of using human blood for any magical purpose, but knowing why it was being used, her hands never shook once.

Across from her the man, her partner for lack of a better term, knelt by the altar. His wand was lit blue as he used it to carve glyphs into the stone of the altar, adding layers above that which was already there. He worked quickly, moving with a speed and precision that may have made some think that he knew what he was doing, but she knew him well enough to know that he didn't understand a word of what he was writing. To him it was just a mixture of funny signs and squiggles. Apparently being 'highborn' did not correlate with understanding advanced magical theory.

"I'm done." She said stepping back from the body.

Her partner didn't look up from his work but responded quietly, "Take a break, you'll need your strength."

She stifled the urge to scold him for daring to tell her what to do. He was right this time. Unfortunately their present location didn't offer much in terms of a relaxing atmosphere. She might have sought out comfort in the stars, as she often had in the past, but only blackness greeted her when she cast her eyes skywards. The roof of the cave was so high that what little light her spell had produced was lost before it even got close to touching it. In another place, another time, the water could have stilled her nerves and slowed her heart, bought her the illusion of peace and tranquility for a time. But here, the stillness of it was unnerving, its darkness depressing, and its dwellers terrifying. She truly regretted asking what lay beneath the surface.

So, in her own typical fashion, she settled for watching and inspecting her partner work, and reciting the words of the ritual she was about to perform.

DRACO

As he began copying the final sequence of wards and runes, Draco chanced a glance at her. Her lingering presence was a clear response to his earlier suggestion that she rest. And now she seemed even more upset than she had before when they rowed across the lake to reach this accursed island.

It annoyed him more than he cared to admit. Who was she to stand there, glaring disapprovingly at him as if he were a muggle child playing in the dirt? And earlier, she'd had the gall to comment on his sour mood. As if walking to your impending murder was something to look forward to!

Sure he'd been overjoyed when he first learnt of his prophecy all those months ago. It had been a sign to him. A sign that fate and destiny themselves were sure of his importance in the grand scheme. And though he wasn't wrong about that, it certainly was not how he had envisioned his great contribution to the tomes of history.

Draco Malfoy, scion of a Noble House that championed the virtues of Blood Supremacy. Led like a lamb to the slaughter into a dark cave, to die, at the hands of a mudblood. He couldn't imagine anything worse really, but at least he still had his wit.

"Really, Granger" he said, "I know I'm handsome but must you stare like some kind of dumb animal? Its unbecoming of my murderer."

She blinked slowly a couple of times before scowling. "First of all, it's not murder. You volunteered. And secondly, I wasn't looking at you, I was observing your poor attempt at runescaping to make sure you don't muck it up."

He scoffed, "And I suppose you can do better?"

"Of course! I spent yea-"

"Then I wonder why he chose me, to do this instead of you?"

He saw her expression almost turn apoplectic and changed tact.

"Besides, I really don't think it matters a great deal who does what at this point. It's not going to work."

He was thankful that she took the bait. He couldn't endure another lecture. Not now.

"That's ridiculous. Professor Riddle is the greatest wizard to have ever lived. A master of the runic practices and the only thing that stands between us and oblivion!"

"Yeah. But he couldn't stop Madara could he." He muttered.

That stopped her in her tracks.

"I'm done" he said.

Silence suddenly stretched between them. It seemed neither quite knew how to go about their next task. They weren't friends. He neither liked nor respected her. He would have been happy having almost anyone else by his side at that moment. As it was, he felt more alone than he had at any point in his life.

Draco kept his gaze fixed on the altar, scrutinizing the man to whom he had sworn the oath which was to end with his death. Granger had marked out his spot next to the altar, positioned close enough that his blood, oh so pure, would splash onto the body.

"Well?" she asked, looking at everything but him. The mudblood did have a conscious after all.

He shot her a withering glare, "Forgive me for not being in a rush to die."

She regarded him with a narrowed brow. "You swore an oath. Don't forget that. There's more riding on this than just your life."

"Considering just how enthusiastic you seem to be about this manslaughter business, it's a shame that it can't be you about to have your soul torn out of your body and your blood spilt like some cow."

Abruptly, an explosion sounded in the distance and the world around them seemed to shudder in anticipation. Granger's face blanched as she spun to look out into the darkness, where the shore must have been.

"That's impossible." She whispered, "They shouldn't know where we are. How did they find us?"

She turned to him, and quicker than he would have thought her wand was out and his consciousness was fading.

Hermione

Hermione quickly levitated his body into position. As loathe as she was to do this to him whilst he was unconscious he'd given her no choice. There was no time to waste.

With a deep breath, she pointed her wand at Malfoy's throat and closed her eyes. She didn't need to watch it.

"Diffindo."

She opened her eyes for just a second, and shut them immediately after as she glimpsed his body bathed in blood. She now wished that she had used a spell that was a tad more, delicate.

The cave shook again, closer, and this time a few stalagmites descended from the unseen roof, plunging into the dead surface of the lake and sending ripples to lap at the shore of the island like a hound at the heels of its prey.

She began enchanting the words she had been taught, letting her magic reach out and grasp what lingered of Draco's magic, and combine it with the body on the altar. Surprisingly, it wasn't a very long incantation and she was soon finished, sealing the spell with a swish and a flick of her wand.

As she opened her eyes again and stepped away from the alter she observed the altar and felt the first inklings of doubt creep into her mind. She had the utmost confidence in Riddle's abilities and estimations, but was it really so simple? A few uttered words and a slit throat was all it took to traverse the fabrics of time?

She had hoped that sending him back in time would mean that the world she knew would cease to exist. But here she was, the lone survivor in a sacrificial ritual. Either it hadn't worked and she had just murdered someone for nothing, or the multiverse theory was correct and she was doomed to die here regardless of his actions in the past. What a way to discover that nugget of information.

Another sound rang out from the entrance. A deep explosion, like the falling of a door, it wouldn't be long now. They were through.

Whether or not the ritual worked, her part was done. Now, she could only try to take as many of them down with her as possible.

She conjured a levitating ball of light and set it high above the island, illuminating much of the water around her, but still not reaching the entrance. For a moment, she didn't really know how long, she stood and waited, wand at the ready. And just as she was beginning to think that maybe they had failed to break through the last gate, that maybe she had misheard or miscounted, she heard them.

The quiet echoes of feet upon water reached across the surface of the lake. So quiet that they would have been silent were it not for their location. Within moments she saw them emerge from the darkness at the edge of her field of vision. Masked, armed, and fast.

The great enemy wouldn't be far behind. So she waited and watched, watched as pale hands rose out of the depths and dragged many of the incoming men down.

'Inferi,' she thought, 'Coming to the aid of a muggleborn, how Malfoy must be rolling in his…'

After the initial surprise, the men began to evade them with ease.

'So much for that.'

She flicked her wand and summoned a hale that screeched through the cave, creating waves that revealed the sullen creatures that dwelled beneath the water. It also had the added benefit of disturbing the invaders, allowing for more inferi to pounce. As more and more of the soldiers arrived, she began firing off curses into their ranks. Killing curses, cutting curses, bombardments. Anything she could muster or imagine. Conjured beasts ran amok, tearing into her adversaries, but too soon they were taken down.

Then, he arrived. At first, a warrior clad in blood red armor, wielding a sword that visibly shuddered with unkempt power, but with his every step, he changed. Magic poured from his flesh. So dense that it took physical form, enshrouding him until he could no longer be seen. It molded and grew, grew until he was a demon, a wraith, tall enough that his face was hidden in the darkness high above the reach of her light. A swing of his arm and the surface of the lake was set ablaze with black flames that she knew would burn forever. The screams of the immolated Inferi shook her out of her stupor.

She cast the killing curse at the demon, and it thundered against the fiend's chest, but it did not falter. Closer and closer it came. Its long strides devouring the distance between them as it bore down on her.

Every spell she knew, she cast. It had no effect. Not for the first time in her life, but most certainly the last, Hermione cursed herself for never learning and mastering combat magic. Riddle had always said it was her greatest failing. He was never wrong.

Then, he was upon her. Her wand shriveled in her hand, blowing away into dust as she faced the demon, alone, and unarmed. It bent the knee before her, bringing its head from the dark depths of the ceiling until it hovered right above her. Her light spell had died out by then, so she was left standing in the glow of the demon's shroud.

She couldn't see the man inside the magical shroud, but she could feel his stare piercing her. It filled her with the kind of physical numbness one could only experience when truly out of their depth. And since he didn't kill her immediately, it was of no surprise when he spoke.

"Where?" he said in a deep broken voice, "Where, is, he?"

It was only then that she glanced back and realized that his body was gone from the altar. For a moment that lifted her spirits, but then she turned back to face it. Hermione stood, as tall as she dared, and forced herself to look into its eyes.

"Somewhere you'll never find him."

It stared at her for a while longer. As if it thought that it could wait her out. But she stood and glared, never giving an inch.

"So be it."

Its magic reached out and the color drained from the world, shattering open the gates to her mind, leaving nothing unscathed.

AN: This prologue is not in line with much of the beginning of the story. It alludes to things farther down the line, but I felt it needed to be here. Thanks for reading, please review.