#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...
Her feet steady themselves beneath her, the dementors continuing their cold approach even as she closes her eyes. Hermione's cast back into the future, her Christmas time festivities at Grimmauld Place bursting out into colors of crimson, emerald, silver, and gold, surrounded by an adopted family as the War raged, yet they persevered in joy. Then, she's moving back, to the day in the library where Tom was made baffled by her sheer knowledge, that handsome gleam in his eye as if he adored her. It's a powerful thought--powerful memories--of friendship, sacrifice, holiday, and love. With her arm raised, it is only a matter of words.
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Tom was never one to cower under the pressures or abuses of others, a wizard and warrior since day one at the horrid orphanage in Muggle London. He is the best of his class, the Head Boy, and a Dark Lord who'd previously only known of darkness. Tom Riddle still has tasks to complete and death to destroy, and if this is his first task, so be it. But moreover, his only companion is in danger, the remembrance of Hermione caressing the Thestrals with such lively eyes. Her hand beneath his and her back to his chest. That laughter of potent joy and her honey eyes cast in light shadows via her lengthy lashes. She is the joy he never knew, and gods be dead if another of Tom's possessions is to be taken. His arm rises.
"Expecto Patronum!" their harmonized voices, perfectly overlaid in pronunciation, are the loudest sounds in the outside world of Hogwarts. With their eyes opening to the incantation, retinas powerful in intention, it comes as a beautiful shock to see two creatures swim from their wands. That playful otter is gone from her lessons, its conviction matching Hermione's as it powerfully shoves the dark creatures backwards with all intentions to destroy. And then there is the the Basilisk, its unearthly blue glow overpowering that of the cold dementors, pushing them away with less strength than the otter but more spread in force. Indeed, the small otter is dwarfed by the life-size serpent, the massive Patronus moving through the dementors like a shield, protecting Hermione's otter who provides the front of their vicious defense.
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Tom is the one to pull Hermione along this time, her eyes so widened in shock that she easily resembles a bush-baby of the African continent. She can only look to the Basilisk with its massive form over hers, Tom casting the two of them through the separated line of dementors before rushing them up to the Castle in full sprint. Eventually, she rediscovers her present, unhitching herself from the not-so-Dark Lord and moving ahead with her wand lighting the day. It's grown into night.
