With My Dying Breath

A/N: Hey guys, so this story is a time-travel fic, a Tom Riddle one, of course! Read and review :)

                Hermione watched in muted horror as Harry Potter's lifeless body fell to the ground with a flash of green light. With a wave of Voldemort's wand, her hope had been shattered. The-Boy-Who-Lived, had been murdered by the man that had started all of this madness.

                In that instant, it was over.

                She stood there in the rubble of the castle, her posture stiff and rigid from the shock of seeing her best friend fall to the floor, her mind still not fully comprehending what horrid thing had just happened.  Time seemed to have slowed to a sluggish crawl, and the earth itself seemed to have stopped spinning because of it. Harry Potter was dead. Harry James Potter, her best friend, the Chosen One, lay dead on the ground in front of her.Hermione gasped and clutched at her chest. She stared at his limp body, his still face, his disheveled black hair, and was knocked to her knees from the pain.

                Her gaze switched to the man who had done this, and for a mere moment, she just stared in disbelief. How could someone be this cruel, this evil? How could he kill an innocent boy, and smile merrily afterwards? How could he be so, so...heartless? Pure hatred bubbled up into her chest, and she launched herself at him, screaming with immeasurable fury.

                Hermione was only ten feet away from Voldemort and his followers when a pair of lanky arms wrapped around her small waist, lifting her up into the air. She shrieked, thrashing her legs and arms about, trying to get free from the bonds holding her away from  the murderer in front of her. Her eyes never left Voldemort's as she was dragged back into the crushed remains of Hogwarts, her eyes speaking the words that her mouth couldn't quite form.

                He would pay. He would pay for what he's done to them.

                "Hermione! Hermione!" His quiet, wavering voice brought her back into the gruesome reality that surrounded her. She sobbed into a red shirt, then lifted her head to meet the vivid blue eyes of Ronald Weasley. He was crying as well, and his miserable expression broke what was left of her already shattered heart.

                "Her...Hermione...," he cried, trying to speak through the pain of his friend's death. He gripped her shoulder's tightly in his grimy hands, and pulled her into an embrace. They were no longer a trio; no longer were they the three best friends that had united to kill Voldemort. No longer were they the friends that had become some sort of a makeshift family. The sounds of their obvious distress caused the other survivors to gather around them and stare in horror at the scene that lay before them.

                "No!!" She could hear the sound of Ginny's heartbreaking scream, and Hermione knew how the red-head felt. Through her tear stained eyes, she could see Mr. Weasley hold back Ginny's tiny form, his head shaking slowly back and forth.  Voldemort laughed with glee, and held his arms out around him like a child.

                "Harry Potter is dead!" More of the survivors were forming at the entrance to the castle, hoping that by some miracle, Harry would jump up and be okay. That there would still be a chance to win the war, that they would still be able to go home to their friends and families.

                "And now the time has come for you to join us!" He stepped forward and motioned back at Harry's lifeless body.

                "You have no hope left, other than to join our ranks, and feel my mercy! Step forward, and be rewarded!" His words were heard by everyone, and yet there was no movement. No betrayal.