Alpha Centauri
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Summary: What would you change if you could take a walk through time, taking a peek at many universes along the way? How would you manipulate things for good or ill? An HGxSS interdimensional, time-travel novel. As full of AU and Sci-fi as it gets. Rated 'M' for sexual situations. Romance/Adventure
Usual disclaimers apply: not mine, no money, etc.
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Ch. 1— Gone in a Flash
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This night had not gone according to plan.
She was supposed to have been ensconced safely at Shell Cottage with Harry and Ron. They had Bellatrix's wand, a sample of her hair, Ollivander, the bloody goblin… all of it. They had a PLAN! And it all hinged on going to Gringott's tomorrow to find the bloody horcrux in the bloody cup of Helga Hufflepuff's. The final battle was looming close now.
However… plans change.
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It is surprisingly easy to get captured by one's enemy when one wishes it.
One simple word: V-o-l-d-e-m-o-r-t
Three syllables which strike fear in the hearts and minds of all witches and wizards who hear it.
Hermione Granger had no compunction about saying it now.
Stepping just over the boundary of the secret-kept cottage, Hermione let the wind carry the whispered word out to sea and heard the resounding 'CRACK' of apparition as not one but five snatchers came to retrieve her.
"Well, who do we have here, dearie?" a squint-eyed witch said to her at once.
Hermione met the woman's stare without flinching and said, "I am Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter, and I demand to speak to the Dark Lord."
The cackles and guffaws her statement invoked were disbelieving, but that didn't stop them from snatching her up anyway and taking her once again to Malfoy Manor, twice in one day no less, where she knew for certain this was where Tom Riddle aka 'Lord Voldemort' now resided.
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The Dark Lord was ensconced in the ball room, his followers gathered en masse, in ceremony with their masks on, the sconces on the walls barely lit. Hermione rolled her eyes at the stereotypical image as she was ushered quite forcefully to kneel at the Dark Lord's feet.
"My Lord," the snatcher that had bound her groveled before the snake-headed beast, shoving Hermione to the floor. The snatcher made certain Hermione's forehead touched the tile.
"Did you miss us, poppet?" Bellatrix Lestrange's mad, cackling voice asked beside her.
"What's this then?" Lord Voldemort asked the group assembled. "One of Potter's friends getting caught again? You would think you would have learned from your mistake. Well, your ignorance will not be repeated. I guarantee it."
Suddenly Hermione's head was yanked from the floor by her hair, and her back bowed sharply as she looked straight up into the face of terror and megalomaniacal madness.
Hermione smiled sweetly. "Hello, Tom."
Those assembled gasped in shock; the room grown so silent one could hear a doxy wing drop.
Lord Voldemort was on his feet in an instant, the Elder wand in his spidery, long-fingered hand leveled straight at her. "How dare you address Lord Voldemort so? You are Potter's muggle-born friend. You will die for your lack of respect, child! However, first," he spat, "you will tell me where Potter is."
Shaking her head, Hermione looked straight into the Dark Lord's eyes and said, "Alpha- Centauri- Bravo- Victor- Five- Lima- Foxtrot- Alpha- Seven- Delta- Echo- Gamma- Eight- Echo- Three- Centauri- Seven- Seven- Seven- One- Delta- Echo- One- One- Centauri- Three- Two- Four- Tango- Eight- Six- Bravo- Nine- Nine- Four- Eight- Three. Lock."
Her words had a palpable effect on his very being. He seemed to diminish before her very eyes. "What's happened?" he asked, his much-muted tone filled with wonder and dread.
Trying to shrug off the hands that held her, she grunted as a particularly vicious snatcher wanted to make her stay 'humble' before the 'Dark Lord'. Hermione said, "Will you call 'em off?"
With a wave of his hands his followers dispersed leaving Hermione alone in the middle of the floor.
She had, it seemed, gotten her audience with 'm'lord' after all.
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"What's happened?" he asked again more insistently as she stood and began dusting herself off.
Her bushy hair had come undone in the struggle, and the strands were tickling her face.
Reaching to fix it, she explained, "It's Grieg. He's decided to scrap the whole timeline. You, me, Longbottom, Remus even. The only one not affected will be Lovegood, and even in this, she'll have to withstand one hell of a paradigm shift." Finished securing her hair, Hermione scrubbed her face tiredly and gestured expansively, "It's one hell of a clustered nightmare."
"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO OUR MASTER THIS WAY, MUD-BLOODED FILTH! CRUCIO—" Before the spell could leave her borrowed wand, Bellatrix Lestrange was wandlessly lifted off her feet and placed at Tom Riddle's right hand, his arm clamping tightly on her wand arm. He shook his head and said softly—dangerously, "Now, now, Bella. Mr. Potter's friend and I are having a lovely chat. You will get your turn with her momentarily."
Still holding her by the arm, the Dark Lord turned his slit-eyed gaze back to Hermione.
Hermione was unimpressed. "We've got…" holding up her hand and calculating rapidly with her fingers, "only fourteen minutes left in this construct before it's discontinued. I wanted to let you know in case you have someone you'd like to ferry across with you."
Looking around, she spied Death Eater after masked Death Eater before her and shook her head. It seemed unlikely.
She turned to go, and once more his followers sought to stop her.
"Riddle," Hermione growled, looking behind her. "Call 'em off."
"Alright, alright." He gestured. "Let her go! Let her go! She's not to be touched."
Almost to the hallway, she didn't get far before she heard her name being shouted. "Granger!"
"What?" she shouted back, her frustration apparent. This was not supposed to happen. Two years! Two goddamned years of her life wasted on this project, and now it was going to be so much slag down the continuum's drain.
"Do you have anyone you're taking with you?" he asked from across the room.
Shaking her head, she said, "No. I've opted the better part of expediency. There is no one I wish to take, and I plan to make it home twice as fast. So, if you'll excuse me, m'lord…" giving a mocking curtsey as she turned to go.
"Wait— wait!" For his followers, she was certain it was an unbelievable sight—their Dark Lord chasing the steps of a teenaged, muggle-born witch. It was laughable.
No one was laughing.
Not particularly giving a damn for social custom or propriety never mind property, Hermione searched the bottom level until she found the drawing room once more, and looking pointedly at the rug that still bore traces of her blood from having been tortured on it earlier in the day, she went to the sideboard and poured herself a stiff drink.
Tom followed along behind her. "When did you get the message?"
"Same as you," she answered. "I just bother to check my in-box religiously, preferring not to be caught off-guard. You know how Grieg is."
"Hmm, yes." Their handler was infamous for leaving his charges in the dust and left unknowing. Hermione couldn't count the times she had went to sleep only to wake with a different assignment, having to start from scratch. She had gotten the message at exactly 8:03 p.m. while she was in the bath.
By 8:05 p.m., she had been ready to depart without a backwards glance.
"Here, pour me one of those while you're at it." Tom asked, making his way into the room.
"Oh, bugger-off and pour it yourself," she snapped, and then sniffed respectfully, "My lord."
"Oh, that's not going to get old, quickly," he murmured as he poured himself a tall drink.
She perched on the over-stuffed chair by the fireplace, unsurprised when she saw a good portion of his 'followers' had followed them into the drawing room, some of them craning their necks from the doorway to see.
Hermione gestured to his flock. "Would you like to say any parting words to your sheep? You have just enough time to work up a good wind."
There was a small cough that sounded like a scoff that came from just beside her. There might be hope for this crowd yet.
He shoo'd them away, "Let 'em wonder in the absence of knowing." Sitting back, he gave her a long measured stare from his snake-like eyes and said, "I have two candidates I wish to recruit, Granger."
"Nuh-uh," she warded him off. "No way! It's not going to happen, Riddle. Absolutely not."
"Granger—"
"No. You always do this, Tom! There was Peru in fifty-eight, Ninevah in aught one, Xensei in twenty-nine. Absolutely not!"
"But, you're always accommodating… eventually, and that's why they group me with you, Granger," he led, giving her a boyish grin. The effect was somewhat diminished coming from the face of a man without a nose with a greyish complexion and red-rimmed, snake-like eyes.
She t'skd and crossed her arms. "What do I get out of the deal?"
"Besides my undying gratitude?"
"Considering you're undead, that hardly counts for much. What else?"
"I have a sixteenth century folio of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. It's yours… signed by the playwright himself."
She looked at him skeptically. "Which act?"
"Four, of course."
"Of course," she agreed. "What else?"
"Granger," he growled. "You're trying my patience."
She laughed and threw up her hands. "I have nothing but time, Tom. Whereas you… tick, tock." She smiled, knowing she had him just where she wanted him.
"Alright, Christ! Tea with Queen Bess. Giselle and I were supposed to go after this tour, but I'm willing to offer it in exchange in addition to the folio if you'll agree to ferry one."
Biting her lip, she looked at him, for the first time tempted. "Who'd you have in mind?"
"See was that so hard? Bellatrix, my dear. Come forward."
"You wanted to see me, my lord?" The sycophantic woman said, her eyes trained only for her Dark Lord as she bowed to the floor in front of him. "I will do whatever it is you wish."
Hermione pursed her lips and tried hard not to roll her eyes. The cover for them all was negligible now, but for these people, this was all they knew, all they would ever know, and so Tom Riddle aka the Dark Lord would stay the 'Dark Lord' to them.
"How would you like a chance, my dear, at another life? To undo a mistake you've made perhaps? Or explore a new world entirely? Would that be suitable to you?"
She bowed lowly, "I will do whatever my lord wishes."
Tom looked at Hermione, and Hermione shook her head. "Absolutely not. Abso-fucking-lutely not." The room gave a collective gasp at her expletive. She cheered the room with her glass and took a generous swallow. "She is deranged. She is certifiably insane. She did this—THIS!—to my goddamned arm not five hours ago—" she gestured to the bandage she wore. "She can agree to nothing as she is non compos mentis, Tom."
"Untrue, I evaluated her myself." He looked smug. "And she will get the treatment she needs at a place that can help her. She is integral to my research, Hermione." His eyes pled, "I have travelled through time searching for a subject like her. I really need this otherwise my funding will be cut." The last he said hurriedly out of the corner of his mouth, so low she barely heard it, and as it was so quiet, she was sure half the room heard it as well.
She crossed her arms and huffed, "Well, she's your patient; you're going to sign her."
"But that's just it…" Tom led, cajoling, "I have another I'd like to take as well."
Moving her fingers, Hermione did a rapid calculation. Seven minutes. They had seven minutes left before this temporal reality was no more. "Yes?" she stated absently, looking at the overlays on her iris's and blinking at what she saw.
If they were careful, they could probably do the trip to 2019 in three jumps, possibly two depending on the wherewithal of their passengers and crew.
"Severus Snape, come forward."
A movement to her left startled her as the Death Eater closest to her stepped forward in front of them.
Hermione looked up and up and up, and the familiar form of her potion's professor came into view. Tall tailored black robes perfectly immaculate, mounds of cloth and loads of buttons. He was fully revealed before her when he waved his wand and vanished his Death Eater's mask. His face was solemn. He did not say 'My Lord'. He did not address Tom with a bow or an acknowledging nod. Instead, he raised a single brow, his jaw locked, his eyes livid.
He was quick on the uptake, for certain, and Hermione was impressed.
"How would you like a chance at another life?" Tom asked directly, "To undo a mistake you've made perhaps? Or explore a new world entirely? Would that be suitable to you?"
"I heard your offer the first time," the man said in a clipped baritone. His eyes narrowed, "What would this entail?"
"For starters, professor," Hermione interjected, drawing his attention, "I would be your overseer. We would be spending every waking, and many sleeping moments together. Not desirable? Yes, I quite agree. Alright, we're done here. Tom, you have four minutes." Hermione got up to leave.
"Sit down, Miss Granger!" her professor ordered, his voice a whip-crack in the silent room.
Startled at his tone, a tone she knew commanded respect and of which she'd heard almost daily for the last two years, she unthinkingly did as she was told, looking up at him and blinking.
"Explain," he ordered.
Tom led, "It is a once in a life-time opportunity only offered once and never again. This reality will cease to exist when we leave it. I will no longer be the 'Dark Lord', Miss Granger—Hermione will no longer be the seventeen-year-old student you believe her to be. She will guide and train you until you are able to guide yourself through time."
"And once I accomplish this… training… what then? Will I be able to return here?"
"No," Hermione interjected, "You will not. This timeline is discontinued. The long and short of it is that it's too unstable to support the overall matrix and must be culled. The people as you know them now, and have known them previously, will cease to exist."
There was much exclamation and murmuring through the crowd. Hermione looked at Tom, and as one, they threw up shielding and silencing spells around the four of them.
Hermione did another calculation. Less than ninety seconds remained. "Tom…" Hermione led.
"We need an answer, Severus," Tom said implacably. "Honestly, from what I know of your history, what have you to lose? There is no family you are devoted to, no friendships for which to cling. You are single. The perfect fit for a traveler's way. And if you do not wish to continue, if you decide this isn't the life for you, you'll be restored to the natural continuum for which you would have progressed, this all seeming just a dream."
"Oh," again that eyebrow rose, "And is that what these people, everyone gathered here today and elsewhere, will be doing? Switching from one temporal paradox to another?"
"Construct," Hermione corrected. "We call them 'constructs', and yes, they will. They will still exist. All of those you know and have known still exist. Thirty-five seconds."
"Severus…" Tom cajoled.
"I… accept." A more reluctant response Hermione had never heard.
Locking onto their four life-signs and charting into place, she counted down, "Ten—Nine—Eight—" Her professor's eyes locked onto hers, and she felt the weight of his hostile stare like a brand. Three months, three months, at least, sequestered with him. God, this was going to be hell! "One."
In a flash, the four of them blinked away.
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A/N: Am I mad, perhaps, undertaking three writing projects at once? All I can say is I've read some Tom Riddle/Hermione fanfic over winter break, and it got me to thinking… what if Tom and Hermione were friends? How could that come about?
This AU interdimensional time-travel fic where SS and HG still end up HEA is an answer to that. I do hope, dear reader, you enjoy.
Drop me a line. Tell me what you think, and hopefully, this go-round, I will have time to respond in kind.
Cheers!
-K