Hi everyone! Hyaci here! I've recently become a fan of Tom x Hermione, so I decided to cook this up XD

1: Enigmatic Me

"NO!"

Hermione's voice rung through the crowd, raw and loud, as Harry began to slowly fall back towards the ground, a green light still reflected on his glasses, his face still in an expectantly triumphant expression. At Hermione's primal yell of sorrow, the whole crowd erupted with loud murmurs, confused and disappointed. Harry Potter- the boy who lived- had just faced off with an elder wand bearing Voldemort- and died.

"What were you thinking, Harry," she sobbed, more to herself than anything, although Ginny was beside her, resting her shell shocked face on Hermione's shoulder. Left and right, people were being shot down by the death eaters, but Hermione was too numb to care. Distantly, she heard screams and people pushing each other out of the way. It was not until a death eater had advanced and pointed a wand at Ginny that Hermione snapped herself out of it.

She wordlessly pointed her wand at the death eater, and a red jet propelled him back into a tree, where he slumped down quietly.

Grabbing Ginny by the arm, Hermione dashed through the grounds and up the front steps of Hogwarts castle, not caring how many mangled bodies she trampled. More than once, she thought she saw a flash of Weasley red hair on the ground, and heard a shrill scream behind her, but she never slowed down, not when she saw a pitiful Neville being overwhelmed in a duel, not when she spotted a Lucius Malfoy and his wife crying over the mutilated body of their son, not when she saw a glassy eyed Mrs. Weasley rocking on her heels, muttering to herself on the castle floor, not until she reached the seventh floor corridor, permanent residence of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

It seemed she was not alone in thinking of this to be the place to go, as in front of a slowly forming door stood a disheveled and serenely calm Luna Lovegood, wand in the air, and an unconscious Ronald Weasley floating beside her. Hermione felt a rush of emotion as she looked at the boy with whom she had shared something special, quite sorrowful at the thought that their love would never truly come to be. There was too much between them now- too much had changed. It hurt to look at him, and Hermione looked away, transferring her attention to the girl beside him. Luna's eyes were not dreamy for a change- they seemed furious, contrasting quite spectacularly with her smile.

Luna turned, and kicked the door open, muttering slowly to herself in a voice so completely unlike herself that Hermione thought, perhaps, it was someone else. Ron floated in after the Ravenclaw girl, and Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. Quickly, they rushed in before the door to the Room of Requirement had a chance to disappear.

As the wall smoothed over behind them, Hermione began to dust off her robe, when Luna's voice- back to its normal state- said, in a wholly despairing manner- "So it's all over now. He's won."

She felt her throat clench up, and she found tears running down her face as she nodded. "Yes."

Ginny- who, although she had cried, now began to show the true extent of her grief as the tears poured out of her eyes, seemingly endless. "Expelliarmus?" she wept, "What has he thinking? Facing off against the deadliest dark lord in history with- with expelliarmus?"

"He put too much reliance on wand theory," Hermione said bitterly. "He thought that his ownership over the wand would save him." She paused. "The wand must have changed allegiances sometime before the duel. When?"

"Perhaps he'd been disarmed?" Luna suggested her voice carefully neutral.

Hermione tilted her head to the side, considering the possibility. There was no way; she'd been with him the whole time from the time they'd left Malfoy Manor until the final battle- he'd never been disarmed under her watch. Slowly, she shook her head.

"How long can we last in here?" she asked in a soft voice.

"About two weeks," Luna said slowly, previous line of inquiry all but forgotten. "Good thing we restocked our food supply just prior to the battle." Luna paused. "And I made sure to close all the loopholes, so…"

All was silent save for Ginny's sobbing afterward. Slowly, unsure of herself, Hermione reached over and patted Ginny on the back comfortingly, only to have her hand swatted away angrily by the redhead.

"Don't touch me," she spat, her voice bitter and venomous, like a snake bite. "Don't comfort me, don't pretend you know how it feels."

"Ginny!" Hermione cried, shocked. "What's wrong with- how dare you insinuate-"

"GO AHEAD!" Ginny screamed, her voice scratchy. "PRETEND YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS! TO HAVE TO SIT ON THE SIDE AND… AND WAIT, WAIT FOR HIM TO RETURN!" A long, pregnant pause, after which Ginny started up again, her voice softer, more muted. "And- and when he does, he just- poof, like that-" She broke down again, tears streaming down the same tracks they had been on not a moment earlier, "I- sorry, j-just let me wallow."

Hermione surveyed the redhead frostily for a minute, before inclining her head, conceding to her friend's request. She then turned to Luna, her voice shaky, but still as businesslike as it had been before Ginny's outburst.

"Let's see how long we can make those two weeks of food last," Hermione sighed.

"Dead?"

"Dead," Hermione affirmed, her voice emotionless, her mind- her heart far too numbed to feel anything, even when speaking about the death of one of her closest friends. It was something that should have torn her up- ripped her to pieces and left her shattered, unable to comprehend her unfortunate life- but it didn't. Hermione was strong like that.

Ron wasn't.

After twenty minutes of explanation, and about ten of repeated affirmations of Harry's death, the information had still not sunk in to his dense head. He looked at ease, as if at any time, Hermione would break out into a grin and say, "Gotcha!"

But she didn't, and he sat there, continually asking for another confirmation of Harry's death.

"Really dead?"

"Dead as they come," Hermione said patiently, her voice still sounding quite pleasant- too pleasant, even to her own cynical, jaded self.

"Really, really dead?"

"Dead."

It seemed that this was the breaking point for Ron. His eyes began to widen, and his mouth quivered slightly, before he began to stammer nonsensically. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, before he steeled himself, and nodded in an abrupt manner. Hermione smiled a soft smile; she knew he was putting on a show for his own benefit. He'd always needed to seem strong to be strong.

Soon, his face was stoic, and his wavering voice was the only thing that made it obvious- at least, to Hermione- that he was dying inside. Another friend- one who had been like a brother to him, close enough to be a brother- was gone. Like leaves were blown apart in the wind, so had the golden trio. It had been inevitable- if not by death, undoubtedly something else would have split them- all close bonds were made to be broken, after all.

Hermione smiled to herself. She was perversely glad knowing that it had been death- and not something petty, something shallow- that had put an eternal end to the golden trio.

"Our food supply isn't going to last much longer," Ron said, his voice as harsh as it had been ever since Harry's death had been revealed to him. Perhaps it was his way of hiding his emotions, but Hermione always bristled at that abrasive tone. He didn't need to be angry all the time. All of them were angry enough on any given minute of any given day. It took all she had to bite back a retort.

Ginny apparently, didn't have enough willpower to resist.

"Maybe it would if you weren't such a pig," she sneered, "If you didn't eat all the time, we'd have more to eat."

"You eat just as much as I do," Ron roared defensively.

"DON'T YELL AT ME!"

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, utterly exhausted just by listening to the argument. She wasn't sure how much longer she could survive these Weasley shouting matches.

Opening her eyes, she saw Luna, looking at the fighting redheads in her usual dreamy demeanor. Since that day that they entered the room, looking for a safe place to hide, she had drifted back to her usual odd- but kind and dreamy- disposition. She, out of all of them, was the least affected by the turn of events- Harry's loss, Voldemort's victory. Or perhaps she was merely stronger than the rest of them- she had shown a clear mind when she'd sought out the room, after all- maybe it was because she had weathered out the experiences?

Or it had yet to sink in with her.

She was broken out of her reverie when a vase smashed behind Ron. Hermione winced- Ginny had taken on violent tendencies recently.

When Ron drew his wand, Hermione knew things had gone too far. With a flick of her wand, his came sailing through the air, landing at her feet when she made no effort to catch it. He glared at her, and she stared blankly at him. In the end, he silently strode over to pick up his wand, before stowing it into his pockets.

"We need to take a more proactive stance," Ginny stated, pacing furiously around the room. Hermione was reading- she'd taken to reading about advanced spells she had no hope of performing in order to pass the time- and only spared the redheaded girl the briefest of glances.

"There's nothing we can do," Hermione stated, her eyes once again glued on Magic of the Highest Calibre.

"We could try to- I don't know, send a message?"

"How?" It was Luna this time, evidenced by the soft ethereal tone of the voice.

"I don't know… obviously not Owl Post… not Floo either…"

"Patronus?" Ron suggested.

"We'd have to leave the room to send one," Hermione reasoned, "And if the Order sends a patronus back to us, it wouldn't be able to get into the room." She paused. "Not that they would send one- it could reveal their position, compromise their safety."

And that was that- none of them had any other ideas.

It all started inauspiciously, on a day when all of them cut back, to preserve their resources. Their food supply was already wearing thin, and Ron and Ginny had slept the day through, preferring to become sedentary as opposed to feeling themselves slowly succumb to the wretched hunger that coursed through their gut every few minutes.

Hermione was busy reading another book full of advanced spells- A Tome of Moste Feared Enchantments- totally absorbed in the intense theories behind each of the complex spells and incantations, while Luna was doing what she did best- stare wistfully into space, face unreadable and eyes twinkling in a way that would put Dumbledore to shame.

The four of them were merely riding out the situation the best they could, for as long as possible. Deep in her gut, Hermione knew that eventually, they would have to choose between leaving to obtain more food, or to starve to death within the Room of Requirement, and it was not a decision she wanted to have to make.

Ginny awoke quietly, rubbing her red eyes with balled up fists. She glanced around the room, surveying the inhabitants with a critical eye. Luna looked as unkempt as ever; while Hermione's usually bushy hair looked like an out of control afro. Ron had so much dirt on his face that he looked like a pig, and she… well, Ginny wasn't doing well either. Her normally glossy red hair seemed greasy, and when she looked in the mirror, she couldn't help but notice that she had gotten extremely out of shape.

She contemplated asking the room for a treadmill, and perhaps a stairmaster or elliptical trainer, before deciding that she would probably be too hungry and exhausted to utilize exercise equipment of any kind.

Sighing, she made her way over to the cabinet that housed their food supply in order to fill her famished belly with her daily meal. Slowly and deliberately, she unlatched the cabinet door and peered inside.

"AAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

Ron jerked in his sleep at the scream, before rolling over and mumbling to himself irritably. Hermione was on her feet, visibly shaken, and Luna merely held her hands over her ears, seemingly unaffected.

"What's wrong Ginny?"

"The food- cockroaches!"

Hermione looked at Ginny sharply. "Is that all?"

The redhead could not believe her ears. "Cockroaches, Mione, cockroaches."

"If push comes to shove, we'll probably end up eating those roaches, Ginny."

Making a face, Ginny turned back to the cabinet, to stare at the food that the horrid insects were currently feasting on- food she and the others had been squirreling away, carefully saving, trying to make last as long as possible- all ruined by cockroaches. For her, anyway.

Her face grim with resolve, Ginny pulled back her sleeve, to allow her arm to delve into the writhing mass, to search for any edible remnants of food.

Hermione pulled Luna back in through the door as fast as she could, hurling curses out at the Death eaters just outside. Quickly, she willed the doors of the room to close, and as if obeying her thought- her whim- it did, albeit creakily, reluctantly.

She turned back to the others, her face an unreadable mask.

"All the loopholes had been closed," she said, her voice crackling with authority. "It can't be opened from the outside. Which of us did it? Who opened it?"

A snort of derisive laughter drew the attention of the others to Ginny, who was grinning, looking insanely pleased with herself. Her eyes were tinted with madness- insanity, brought about by temporary belief in one's one invincibility, infallibility.

"What did you do?" Hermione whispered. "Why are you so pleased with yourself?"

"Obviously, Granger," Ginny said with a sneer that closely resembled a certain blonde pureblood Slytherin bigot that all of them were utterly well acquainted with- all unpleasantly so. "The infested food- I threw it all out."

SLAP!

Ron winced as he watched the whole scenario- beginning with Hermione furiously raising her hand, swinging it with full force, and culminating in his sister, glaring and nursing pained cheek with a red handprint marking it. Luna, as usual, was staring off into space, totally above such mundane happenings, so he was the only spectator.

He felt a righteous anger at the sight of his sister's blotchy, teary face, but he knew she had deserved exactly what Hermione had given her. Ron himself had wanted to strike her after he had found out what she'd done. Granted, he would have lost his resolve, but the simple fact that he had intended to- well, it testified to just how horrific Ginny's misdeed had been.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley! We were saving that food, trying to make it last for another week- and you just threw it out?" Hermione got into the redhead's face, poking a trembling, furious finger at her chest- "How dare you! If not you, someone else would have eaten it… I could have…" she was struck by an epiphany, "… multiplied it, kept us going forever…"

Ron averted his gaze as Hermione closed in to add another handprint to his sister's face.

Silent tears poured down Ginny's face as she held one of those vile, disgusting creatures in her hand- it's black shell crinkling under the force exerted by her fingers, disgusting fluid covering them, from the tips to the cuticles to the knuckles. Shakily, she lifted it up to her face….

Immobilized. It wasn't dead- she was eating it alive. She wondered how it felt- awake but unable to defend itself as it was lowered into the moist, toothy cavern of death that was her mouth. Repulsed, Ginny shut her eyes tightly; willing herself to empty her mind, fill it with a blank canvas. She shouldn't have thrown out the infested food, she now knew. Silently, in the confines of her minds, she berated herself a thousand times, a million times.

"Eat, Ginny." A concerned voice- that of Hermione Granger, her best friend ever since they'd met and instantly developed a bond. They got miffed at each other every now and then, but more often than not, it was a quiet, muted affection that dominated the friendship between the two. And now, Hermione was expressing that affection by encouraging her to ravenously devour the insect, limp in the vicelike grip of her fingers- claws that held closed more tightly than a snitch that would only ever open for the first one to catch it.

"I can't." So simple, the truth.

An almost pitying look filled Hermione's face- but Ginny supposed that it wasn't. Her friend was simply too hardened by the war to have any use for such feelings anymore.

"Then starve."

True hunger was much worse- a hundred times, a thousand times worse- than they had thought. Up until now, they'd only had a taste of what it was capable of- what it could do were it given high authority- free reign over a person. Now, they knew- knew intimately the horrors of starvation and hunger.

They'd eaten up the nest- but kept a few couples to hopefully breed more to assist them in their fight for survival. But breeding wouldn't take place for another two weeks, and Hermione was unsure if they could last in the interim.

They'd all become shells of themselves- well, except Luna, perhaps, who was more herself than ever. Ginny- once the school's pretty sweetheart- now almost ugly with her stringy, sticky, greasy hair, dull eyes, and severe acne- caused by bouts of malnourishment and poor nutrition.

Tentatively, they'd tried the passage to the Hog's Head- only to bid a hasty retreat once they saw the rubble on the other side. Aberforth- Hermione wished she knew what had happened to the last remaining Dumbledore. It would be a waste if the genes for twinkling blue eyes were lost forever, a victim of both time and circumstance. Never was there to be another Dumbledore- the line of the greatest wizard the world had ever known, was irrevocably gone if Aberforth had not survived the final battle.

It hurt too much to see the ruins- they'd been unable to search for any food that may have been spared. They did try an accio- that, however, turned up nothing.

Ron was the first to collapse from the hunger- knocked unconscious by his growling digestive organs. Ginny had been the pampered baby of the Weasley family- and regardless of financial situation, she'd always been well fed. It made sense therefore, that she would be the second to fall.

Luna had outlasted the other two for a day- nourished, Hermione half-heartedly suspected, by her own imagination. She was sure she'd heard Luna mumble deliriously about eating Wrackspurts and Snorkacks- creatures that the girl admired, and if she was seriously contemplating eating these imaginary companions of hers, Hermione knew she had to be hungry.

Hermione herself simply hadn't used too much energy up until recently. All she'd done in the past few weeks was reading up on spells and curses she was sure she'd never get the chance to even attempt, let alone practice and use. Even if she had the opportunity, her focus and magical ability had been affected to such a degree that she probably wouldn't even be able to cast a simple Lumos without filling herself up a bit.

Now, she was the only one even remotely awake, weak and dazed, laying sluggishly on a squishy chair, her stomach in a perpetual state of emptiness. All she could hear were the growls of her belly, overpowering her senses, dominating her thoughts.

I wish there were a painless way to end this all.

It was like a mantra to her- wishing for an easy way out. She didn't know how many times she repeated it quietly to herself in her mind. How many times the words slid out from between her cerebral folds, out into the arena that was her mind, a champion against the hunger that was knocking down all the other contestants like sacks of sand- even reciting the multiplication table could no longer distract her, and it had been her go-to for such situations in the past. No, the mantra was the only…

It was then that she noticed it, a shining archway of hope, somehow carving itself from the solid stone around it. An archway with many colors- blue, green, red, yellow, all at once. Hogwarts colors, Hermione noted, her mind far away from the thought, but anchored to it, coming closer all the time, accelerating.

It was then that she was struck with a clear mind, her cleverness- her intelligence somehow instilling itself back within her, even if only for a moment. Gathering her wits together, she reached for her wand- laid out uselessly on the dressing table beside her- and grasped it. Rising, she walked over to each of her companions on the floor, and one by one, resuscitated them.

"Rennervate… rennervate… rennervate…" she hoped it would work, have the same effect it did as a counter.

Eyes fluttered open, like butterflies emerging from their chrysalises, ready to spread their wings and fly, completing the transformation, the flight, at once. Luna's eyes, bright and in a slightly trancelike state. Ginny's, bright and clever- not great in either degree, but proficient in both. Ron's eyes, filled with an innocent, endearing simplicity that was unique in and of itself.

"Get up, get up."

"What's up, 'Mione?" Ron, yawning, one eye closed and being rubbed by his fist, the other slipping away like sand in a strainer.

"No- no, stay up."

"Er…" his voice was already so distant…

"We're saved!" Blurted out, a hope that was, as of yet, unconfirmed.

It was a stable, a dark, foul smelling stable, with four stalls. Within each was a different horse- an Abraxan, a Heliopath, a Pegasus, and a Thestral. Perhaps, at one point in all of their lives, there would have been only three horses present. But for the four of them, there were four horses, one for each person.

"Food!" Ron cried, something what would have inevitably happened. He rushed at the horses with a hungry look on his face, distressing them and causing Hermione to grasp his collar, and bring him back with more force than either of them would have liked. He glared at her sullenly, as she slowly approached the four equines.

She found herself attracted to the thestral- it was an animal as misunderstood and misinterpreted as she was. Slowly, she reached out a hand to place on its face, and it inclined its head ever so slightly, as if open to the idea. Stroking it caused a shiver to rise up from its spine to its head, and as a consequence, to Hermione.

A connection had been formed- weak and temporary, but a connection nevertheless.

She swung herself onto it effortlessly- something she normally would have been unable to do. A quick survey of her surroundings assured her that her friends had managed to do the same.

A sudden movement caught her unawares, and she found herself clinging for dear life to her steed. It had broken into a gallop, straight for the walls of the stable, a brick wall, held together by mortar. She squeezed her eyes shut; bracing herself for what would obviously be a disfiguring impact. The speed tore her frizzy hair loose from its normal position, clinging to her scalp, and she could feel soft tendrils of hair falling lightly onto her shoulders, brushing past her neck.

"No- NO!"

And she was out of the castle, as the winged horse glided through a thick mist, a fog that hung low over the land, shrouding the air in complete and utter darkness- or rather, dark grayness. The air was wet, humid, and clung to her skin, making her feel unpleasantly warm and clammy. Wind was blowing in her face so quickly that she felt her eyes drying out, causing her body to overcompensate with fat tears. These could only lubricate her eyes for a second before they too, were pulled by the wind down her cheeks, and inevitably were lost in her bushy hair.

Hermione pressed her face to the thestral, comforting herself in its soft boniness. She hugged the neck, and the bones that bulged out from it, her nose able to sniff out the smell of damp, matted fur. Involuntarily, her mouth opened, and some loose skin was sucked into her vacuum of a mouth, before she spat it out again. The taste was not unlike blood, she was disgusted to find and note.

So, in this manner, the ride lasted for several hours, and, as with all ordeals, she was caused to forget all else, and live for the moment, clinging on for dear life, willing to taste the foul skin of the horse in order to keep herself safely on its back. When the velocity of the thestral finally slowed, Hermione found she was once again herself- calm and composed- the very ideal of a clearheaded girl in the face of adversary. It was as if some switch had been flicked to make her cowardly for the duration of the ride.

She dismounted, and turned around, glancing up at the sky to look for her friends. For the longest time, she saw nothing- then, a heliopath flew down from the sun, its rider's hair as fiery as its own mane. Ginny, safe and sound, if a bit dazed and drowsy, but definitely in no danger of passing out from lack of food.

Abraxan and Pegasus approached side by side from the distance, riders calm and ready. Luna was, as always, in some dreamlike state, while Ron- though looking considerably pale- seemed quite capable for a change. As they flew by the ground, Ron simply slid off, while Luna twisted from the side of her steed, and managed to land- very catlike- on her feet.

"Where are we?" Ron's voice was toneless, his eyes boring into that of the other three. Hermione lent their surroundings an eye, and turned back to the group to deliver her report.

"It seems we are on Hogwarts grounds."

It was true- that was where they were. As in their memories, the woods looked every bit as intimidating and inviting as they remembered, the lake as inky and black as it had ever been. The grass had never looked greener, and the banners fluttered from the winds, hung on turrets.

But there were differences- both great and subtle. The Hogwarts the quartet remembered was in a sad state of disrepair, shattered by the brute forces of the dark side, whereas this version was intact- a great deal more so, even, than when they had first seen it. The whomping willow had obviously been uprooted- it was no longer there, a patch of brown dirt in its place. The tentacles of the giant squid no longer tickled the surface of the waters, only emerging once or twice, a great deal smaller than what they remembered.

But there was no mistaking it- it was Hogwarts.

"Home away from home," Luna said, awe evident in her voice.

"Did the death eaters do this?"

"Fix Hogwarts up like that? Unlikely."

"Bloody hell, it's fixed good and proper, isn't it?"

Hesitantly, Hermione took a step towards the castle. There was no response- no detection charm had been activated, and she found herself taking another step, and another… till she was striding up at full speed to the castle.

As they approached, the doors to the castle opened, and they could see inside. No decorations had been put up- no paintings, no portraits, nothing. Hermione quietly seethed in anger- so Voldemort thought he could just up and remove the things he didn't like about the castle?

She'd see about that.

Breaking her out of her train of thought was a light tugging on her sleeve. She turned, and looked down, and at seeing a piteous house elf, eyes bulging and wide, bulbous and shiny. At once, her ambitions for S.P.E.W. started up again, angered at the injustice the poor creature must have felt.

"Madame is expecting you, Miss, sirs."

They all exchanged glances, but it was Hermione who spoke.

"Where?"

"In the Ravenclaw tower."

The stood in front of the brass eagle door knocker, all staring intently into its beady, brass eyes, eyes that held no personality at all. And, in a mechanical voice, came the riddle that they were all expecting.

"I see witch and wizard, but only those that you describe may pass. One word please."

Hermione slowly turned around, just in time to see the others begin to squabble amongst themselves.

"We have more witches than wizards," Ginny argued.

"Let me go first," Ron said stubbornly, with his misguided sense of chivalry. "If nothing happens to me, you can come up after."

"Say witch," Ginny ordered, almost queenlike in her command.

"Wizard," Ron begged, his eyes imploring Hermione.

Luna caught Hermione's eye, and the two sent each other quick, almost imperceptible nods.

The brown bushy mane, whipped itself back around so that Hermione was once again face to face with the door knocker that was barring their entry.

"People."

And they were in- in the Ravenclaw tower, up the steps, and into a room Hermione was sure had not been there in the past. She barely had the time to register her surroundings- she'd been pushed along by the others.

The first thing she saw was a bed of ebony, carved intricately, masterfully, and decked with sheets colored a brilliant blue. Then, wrapped up in the soft bedding was a slight figure- thinner than any of them, coughing slightly. As they advanced, Hermione could see who it was- an impossibility. Rowena Ravenclaw, brilliant Hogwarts founder, her face beautiful and austere- but at the same time, thin, gaunt, and pale. One bony hand grasped a letter- marked with blood.

It all made sense now- the squid, the willow (or lack thereof), the missing paintings and portraits. The little differences...

And the stables. It must have been the last protective measure the founders could give Hogwarts.

It seemed forever- an eternity, before the deceptively shabby witch before them mustered up the strength to say anything. But when she did, her voice came out broken, sorrowful, deep and rich, magnetic and powerful. It was a woman's voice, but with a timbre of a man's. A beautiful baritone sound, with a delicate feminine intonation, graced with a raspiness that came only with debilitating sickness.

"I have just been told that my daughter has died."

The time travelers- for that was what they had to be- exchanged glances, before returning their gazes respectfully to the woman on the bed.

"There is nothing for me to hold onto," Ravenclaw said hesitantly, dejectedly. "Nothing."

"I-I'm sorry to hear that."

It had been Hermione that had spoken, her voice pitifully thin beside that of the legendary figure. So small, so helplessly weak- the brightest witch of the future in comparison to the brightest witch of all time.

Ravenclaw fixed her gaze on Hermione. It was a sharp gaze- that of a bird of prey, a harrier, a hawk. Hermione looked up, and caught her gaze, staring into those dark, hypnotic eyes- eyes with watchfulness, a knowing quality to them.

"Hermione Granger, is it?"

"How did-"

"I am a leglimens, Miss Granger. I know all about you now." A deep rumbling chuckle arose from the sickly chest of Rowena Ravenclaw, quickly followed by a badly congested cough. "And about your… situation."

Hermione made a quick note to study up on occlumency.

"We did not mean to trouble you with-"

"It is a pity," Ravenclaw cut Hermione off, "That as I die, my powers will die with me."

"Where are you going with this conversation?" Ginny had never been one for manners, speaking up whenever it struck her fancy. She had just voiced the question that most of them were dying to ask.

The raven haired founder merely tilted her head at the question.

"I think," Luna said slowly, "That she's offering us a chance- just once chance- to use her powers to change everything."

Ravenclaw beamed. "One of my own house, are you?"

Luna blushed. "Yes."

"It shows."

"Thank you."

Hermione looked at the sickly founder wonderingly. "One chance?" They had been given once chance to use Rowena Ravenclaw's powers to fix everything- the future would rest entirely on the outcome of what they asked for.

"Just one," Ravenclaw said- a disclaimer, a warning. "Choose wisely."

With a swish of her hair, Hermione had turned around to face the others, her expression the very mask of solemnity. She opened her mouth to confer with them, but no words came out. Slowly, she closed her mouth and tried again, but found that, although her mind had recovered from the shock of being gifted the possibility of fixing the world, her body was still surprised, speechless.

"What should we ask for?" she finally eked out.

"Let us fix everything," Hermione said anxiously, staring imploringly at Ravenclaw.

"Everything?"

"Yes."

Ravenclaw took a moment to study her hands- pale and transparent, like aged parchment. There were perhaps, more lines on her wrists than her vanity would have liked, but it wasn't as if she would have to see them much longer anyway.

"That's a tall order, fixing everything."

Hermione began to feel nervous, her mind spinning with the various possible ways the Hogwarts founder could have misinterpreted her words. "I didn't mean for you to take us literally, I meant-"

The older witch held out a hand, that only moments earlier had been under her penetrating gaze. "You've already said all you need to. You wanted to fix everything? I'll…." She paused for a moment, her eyes shining. "I'll make it happen.

And then, she grasped her wand in her veiny hand, thin fingers curling around the wood, caressing it as if it were some sort of lifeline she could use to extend her life- and waved it, wordlessly, her eyes never leaving Hermione's.

Suddenly, all the wind was knocked out of her, and she collapsed, eyes bulging, chest rising and falling rapidly, onto the bed. Hermione reached over in concern, but shrank back when the world began to spin around her, blurring into a mass of unsightly colors, as if a rainbow had been melted and mixed….

She lifted herself up, raised one hand to her cheek.

Alive, she was alive. Hope coursed through her, and she rose unsteadily to her feet.

The first thing she noticed was that her surroundings were different. She was in a dimly lit room, filled with only a badly made bunk bed (she was sitting on the bottom bunk), two trunks- school trunks, she noticed- a small desk, and a floor length mirror, shining with all the light that the cheap lamps could muster.

"Why am I here?" she spoke aloud. Her voice was different too- more melodious, and sweeter- perhaps sickeningly sweet, akin to the way that Pansy Parkinson spoke to Draco.

"What happened?" Panic, which she had been feeling for a while now, had seeped into her voice. She felt her feet propel her to the mirror, to see if anything else about her had changed.

Her eyes were darker- too dark for her liking, evil-looking. Her hair had slightly straightened, a rich, glossy black that tumbled down in waves. Her skin was paler, no longer the rosy glow of health that she used to have. Her features were completely different- nobler, more beautiful- but at the same time, her new looks instilled a sense of terror into her mind.

"What am I?" Hermione whispered to herself, removing her trembling hand from her face.

As if on cue, a boy- handsome, with nearly the same features as she, rolled over in his bed, his eyes opening, flashing a dark look at her.

"Hermione?" he asked, his voice soft and imperceptible.

And familiar.

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