#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
Apparating to Hogsmeade is no different from the Apparition a day before, and yet, this one leaves both Hermione and Tom queasy. Perhaps it is the sight they just witnessed--an easy explanation--but both silently agree it is Hermione's saving of Tom Riddle that has them nauseous to the unfelt swaying of the earth, faces blanched white. In her ponytail, Hermione's hair frizzes into thick curls, not recognized by the observant Tom and Hermione herself. Rather, they focus solely on walking straight, inches from one another and moving out of Hogsmeade quickly, only to more silence.
Meandering back to Hogwarts takes some time, but it is reached by the nine o'clock hour. People look at their clothing and their states with curiosity, but neither Tom nor Hermione spare them a glance or word, eyes stuck to the ground until they reach the Slytherin Common Room. And even then, the two only look at one another, exchanging uneasy glances before parting for their single rooms, refuge for thoughts and expression.
Tom perches himself on his desk chair, quick to rejuvenate and distract himself through school work. But to the extent that he is brilliant, Tom really does not need to think to ace his homework, his mind lapsing back into the last hours as he writes a Potions essay on Felix Felicis. Tom Riddle thinks about Hermione Granger with a new light basking her continued presence in his mind. And further, he thinks about caring, something scoff-worthy before hours ago but now a truly promising notion. The Dark Lord was saved because Hermione Granger cared for him. This 'caring' for another did not kill Hermione like it had killed Merope Gaunt and destroyed Tom Riddle. No, the care of Hermione Granger saved Tom Riddle from a life strung onward by horcruxes.
Down the hall, through the Common Room, and down another hall, Hermione is curled up with a book in her lap, head resting against her knees as sobs wrack her body. Today, Hermione could have saved her adopted family from pain. She should have saved Harry, the Weasleys, and Remus from agony. She could have saved Cedric, Sirius, Mad-Eye, and Dumbledore from death. Hermione could have saved her future self. And yet, Hermione does not regret saving Tom Riddle from death. The heroine is a true believer in fate: that everything happens for a reason. Voldemort was meant to rise and kill, so that the corrupted Wizarding World might be purged and renewed in light. It was all meant to be, and Hermione does not desire to change that for herself or her friends.
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And yet, she cannot help her pleading cries of apology to Harry, her best friend. They string her together, her lungs heaving and heart beating, mind screaming and bones aching. All she knows is battle, so these feelings are not far removed.
She's sorry, Harry. She can't give you your parents, or your godfather, or your mentor, or your protectors. She is going to kill more of the people that they love before this mission is over. She's sorry Harry, but she will do it without regret.
