Time's Toll

Remembering is the Worst Part

   Hermione cowered underneath the stairs. Crashes and booms and thuds of people falling over dead fill the air.
  She couldn't fight back, not even if she tried. In her eyes Voldemort still looked like the same Tom Riddle she met and fell in love with.

   After a few more minutes she gathered her courage and stepped out.
His black, slightly curled hair was visible in the open courtyard.
He was speaking to the Death Eaters.

"Tom!" She called, shaking in fear and hot tears rolling down her face.
He turned. He still wore his Slytherin robe and his eyes were still as beautiful as she remembered.
  "H-Hermione?" He stuttered. His face was full of sadness, regret, guilt, anger and happiness all at once.
  "Tom." That was all the young witch could get out.
   Walking up to him she grabbed his hand. Time had done awful things to him.
  
   "Tom, let's go back." She said. He nodded. Hermione flicked her Time Turner fifty times for each year.
  They would be happy. Hermione knew it.

****

Harry stepped into the office.
"Who's that?" He asked, pointing to the portrait of a couple. One had dark hair and a solemn look. The other had curly hair and a soft smile. A young girl sat on her lap. The girl had curly black hair and, presumably the woman was her mother, her mother's eyes.
  "That? Oh, that is Tom and Hermione Riddle and their little girl Violet. Why do ask?" Dumbledore replied.
  "I don't know. The girl, Hermione, just looked familiar." Harry said, bearing a look of confusion.
Albus chuckled. "Well, they have your name, Harry Riddle. Violet had a little brother, Albus Riddle. He married and had your father, James. That girl is yojr great-grandmother."
"Huh. Interesting!"
******

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