It wasn't a consequence that Hermione had expected.
There were so many possibilities! So many ways this could have gone wrong, but it was something that had been done before, been studied in detail… something that she had taken the greatest care with.
Now, she wished that she had never touched the blasted thing. That she had never met the man (could he even be called that, alien as he was?) that had lead these creatures to her.
The Doctor and the Ponds.
They had led them here.
And Hermione, as the person that had travelled in time more than any other in her world (Harry was also of interest, but not nearly to such a degree), was the focus of their hunger.
The Weeping Angels had come for her.
And she could only run.
A/N: January saps me of my motivation. Don't hate me for it, please. See, I'm trying to get back on the horse and write again!