Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter. This is just for fun and for fans to enjoy.

"Time is making fools of us again."
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

The wet cobblestone streets of London were difficult to navigate since they were slippery and littered with large murky puddles, products of last night's downpour and today's light drizzle. Though it was almost noon, the sun was completely blocked out by thick dark clouds that covered the sky in an ominous gray. The brick buildings she passed were dilapidated and run-down, many windows broken and shutters hanging on their hinges. The second muggle world war will soon take its toll and add to the distressed look of this part of town.

Many of the people in the street were homeless. They huddled in alleys and corners she passed, desperately trying to keep warm. Those who weren't homeless went about their daily business and did not glance at her as they passed. Their faces were set in grim expressions, eyes staring at the ground unseeing. They avoided her even if they did not know why. It was only a natural, subconscious reaction to what she was. Witch. Hermione held back a derisive laugh. It was almost too perfect a setting for what she was about to do, the crime that she was sent to commit.

No matter how many times she tried to justify it, in the back of her mind she knew better. Whether the target was an innocent young child or a bloodthirsty, merciless leader with extremist goals and ideals, it didn't matter. Murder was murder. To kill… made her no better than the monster that the Order was counting on her to destroy. It was hypocrisy and it was sickening. And she was about to do both. Kill a boy, almost at his eighth birthday, who would one day become the most feared dark wizard of all time.

"You'll be saving countless lives, Hermione. Killing him would end all this suffering! He killed your parents! He killed Harry, damn it! Can't you see? It's for the greater good!" Ron shouted angrily at her when she refused Dumbledore outright. She vocalized the first thought that came to mind, "Are you insane?" The old wizard probably was in many ways, but still, this particular plan was... just wrong.

Now her best friend was driven by Dumbledore's mad idea, asking her to do something unforgivable. Hermione turned her head to narrow her eyes at the Headmaster, the corner of her lip twisted in a grim smile.

Did you hear that, Albus? For the greater good, he says. This notion was the cause of two wizarding wars and was the motto of Gellert Grindelwald himself. She knew it, Albus knew it - and he knew it better than anyone. But the longer the war dragged on, the blurrier the lines became. What was once white and black was now a muddled gray. Whether an action merited a sliver shade at most or a decidedly dark charcoal shade, it didn't bloody matter. It was still horribly gray - white tainted with various amounts of black, good intentions poisoned by the idea that the end justifies the means - and Hermione began to question everything. What was her purpose? What exactly did the Order stand for? And most important of all, what was she willing to do to accomplish the goals of those she pledged allegiance to?

'The greater good…' the phrase echoed in her mind and her teeth clenched in disgust… She hated the fact that those words were now coming from the lips of her dear friend. Her eyes darkened, burning with a fury and disappointment.

"Hermione, please," the ancient wizard whispered, pleading with his eyes. "We have no other option."

She noticed his blue orbs had lost their twinkle.

A harsh gust of wind interrupted her thoughts and dragged her back to reality: his past… her present. It was a paradox in itself that was painful to contemplate, so she didn't bother. It only lead her to wonder if getting back to her time was even possible. The idea that her life as she knew it was forever gone was unthinkable. Hermione pulled her fallen hood back over her head, not bothering to wipe the rain drops that ran down her face. They hid the frustrated tears. She brought her hand to her chest, where she felt the weight of the gold time-turner underneath the thick layers of clothing. It hung on a chain around her neck ever since she had received it in her third year at Hogwarts. It used to be a source of comfort, knowing that if something went horribly wrong, she could – they could – always go back and fix it, like when she, Harry, and Ron had saved Buckbeak and Sirius. Now however, that chain felt like a noose and as she got closer to her destination, Hermione could feel that noose tightening mercilessly. She was alone in this foreign time period, an executioner making her way to the gallows whilst trying not to question her duties.

"Why me!" She demanded, absolutely livid.

"So everyone here thought it was a brilliant idea, did they?" The others looked away guiltily, not meeting her eyes. Not Ginny, not Ron.

"Then why haven't any of you volunteered to do it, hmm? Why is everyone looking at me? Why is it that whenever there's a problem, you come to me? God damn you cowards! The lot of you! This war has already robbed me of my best friend and my family and you wish me to sacrifice my morals and integrity as well?"

She looked disgustedly at the people in front of her. She didn't think she could call them her friends any longer. Her respect for many of them, gone. Molly Weasley sobbed into her hands silently and Arthur's face was contorted with internal agony, but it only incensed Hermione more.

"You wish for an innocent young woman to bloody her hands? To lower herself to the very cruel actions that define our enemies? How could you? Shame on you." Hermione burst into angry tears of frustration.

"Why me?" she repeated brokenly, when no one answered. Their guilt was heavy, but apparently not enough to change their minds or volunteer to the daunting task themselves. No one wanted to face Voldemort alone, young or otherwise. Her hands shook uncontrollably in fists at her side and the attempts to keep her ragged breath steady was a losing battle. She didn't know whether the painful clench in her chest was born of anger or hurt. At the moment, she could not separate the two.

Dumbledore broke the silence, "No one knows the rules better than you do, Miss Granger." It was a compliment meant to placate her but its emptiness and context infuriated Hermione once again. No, what he must have meant to say was that no one had as little to lose as she did. The intensity of the words that came out of her mouth next startled everyone.

"Fuck the rules! This goes against every bloody time travel rule in existence! A death like Riddle's would drastically alter everything and you can't know it will be 'for the greater good'! You may not ever even be born! Those of you who are alive now could be the ones who are dead instead! This is… this is giving into desperation driven by guilt and despair. This is not a solution, it is selfishness! Can't you be grateful with what you have now?" But how could George be happy without Fred? Would Teddy be happy growing up without parents? Could we ever get over the pain of losing Harry? The hollow ache in her heart and in their eyes said no. She didn't even want to think about her parents; such selfish thoughts would be her undoing.

And in the end, it was. Her parents deserved nothing less than to live long, peaceful lives. Not burn to death by fiendfyre in their own home. It was all unfair. Accepting the mission broke her. Hermione began to understand the pressure Harry was constantly under and she felt more and more envious of the dead. They did not have to live with the weight of their deeds. Harry once wisely said that there was light and dark inside everyone. For once, she let the darkness grow and comfort her. It would allow her to accomplish the task without descending into complete and utter insanity.

Hermione let out a shaky breath that left her cold lips in a fog. The rusty metal numbers on the nearest complex indicated that she was close now. Sure enough, at the end of the street, a small yet foreboding establishment came into view. Being government funded, it was in better shape than the residential buildings in the area – but only just. The walls surrounding the building were tall and the black iron gate, menacing. Thick black curtains that hung in the windows of the two-story brick building, hiding the interior from prying eyes. If it weren't for the sign arching across the gate and the lack of guards, Hermione would have thought it was a prison.

It was no surprise really, that the Dark Lord himself grew up in such a place. Hermione never believed that people were born good or evil. She always believed that how a person was raised would determine what choices they would make later in life. Wool's Orphanage, she realized then, played a larger role in shaping the future than anyone gave it credit for. It had turned a human being into a monster.

The iron-wrought gates groaned loudly at the hinges as Hermione pushed one gate open and stepped onto the grounds. The sudden, suffocating claustrophobia she felt prevented her from politely closing the gates behind her entrance. The act had a feeling of finality which she could not stomach. Instead, she determinedly made her way to the steps leading up the front door. The light rain gradually stopped minutes ago while she was lost in thought and the damp air was now deathly still. Her heavy, worn boots sunk a few inches into the muddy path with each step, but it was not enough. Hermione wished the ground would swallow her whole. She didn't believe in destiny, but it felt like life had given her no other options and she was now at the mercy of some cruel divine being.

Finding herself standing directly in front of the door, Hermione raised a trembling hand to the simple knocker and tapped it thrice. Her other hand slipped into the coat pocket where her wand was concealed. As she waited, she tried to refocus thoughts on the mission.

'Go in, find Riddle, kill, return home. If possible. Simple, uncomplicated.' When she heard the sounds of slow footsteps approaching, Hermione took a deep breath of cold air and prayed to any and every deity in existence for the forgiveness of murder.

A/N: I've always wanted to do an upset Hermione. I think people take her for granted sometimes, she has a right to blow up once in a while, haha. I hope this story has a novel plot. I don't know if anyone has written a story in the direction I want to take... but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.