A/N: THIS HAS BEEN EDITED
I know a lot of people have written Tom Riddle/Hermione stories, especially ones concerning timetravel of some sort. I will admit that the basic plotline here is not that creative... but I will attempt to make this more interesting that some of those that I have read. Maybe a few more evil twists or indepth personality assessments of Tom.
Enjoy and Review! You should know how much I'd appreciate it if you clicked that lavender button down there to give me a review...
Chapter 1 - The Beginning and The End
Smiling grotesquely, Voldemort glided, along with his most trusted Death Eaters towards the Headmistress' Office.
There was nothing they could do to stop him now… All but that room up there had fallen to him. And if he was correct, The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Soon-Would-Die, along with his Mudblood friend and Minerva McGonagall was up there.
Murmuring a spell, the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the Office were blasted from its foundations, letting down the same spiral staircase he remembered so well.
Ascending the stairs, he could see the curses and hexes flying his way. Fools… he thought, as he simply placed up a powerful Shield. Potter was focusing hard on him, and with a careless flick of Voldemort's wand, was flung to the wall.
The bushy-haired Mudblood was still there, and Bellatrix threw a nasty slicing hex at her, causing her to scream and collapse, bleeding profusely at the abdomen.
Minerva, ever still vigilant, fought on. But she would not win this fight. A well-aimed curse hit the old lady, and she crumpled behind the desk.
Surveying the room, Voldemort emitted a cold, calculating laugh. No one would stand in his way now – Potter was unconscious, and his Mudblood was slowly bleeding to death. He advanced towards the raven-haired boy, wand drawn, ready to deliver the final blow, when a weak voice stopped him.
"No… Tom…" groaned the Mudblood, "Don't do it, Tom."
Something in him clicked. A familiar voice?
But Bellatrix had already snuffed out her life, a green light from her wand, before he could ask her any further. Glaring evilly at Black, he screeched, "CRUCIO!"
He didn't know why he cursed his most loyal servant. He just wanted to know why the Mudblood sounded so familiar. And Bella had taken the chance away. Removing the curse, he noticed the portrait of Albus Dumbledore looking sadly at the girl.
"You old codger!" hissed Voldemort, "Who is she?" He pointed at the girl, dead on the floor.
"Look at her ring," the portrait stated simply, sighing.
Voldemort finally noticed the golden band on her left hand, marred by the blood. Removing it from her finger, he read the engraving.
A name makes no matter to me, as long as I can call you my own.
It had to be a lie. The bastard was still playing tricks on him, even when he was dead.
"I won't fall for this, Dumbledore," he spat, "Just you and your pathetic little tricks."
Albus shook his head sadly. "She is Anaïs, Tom. She was pregnant with a boy." He signaled to her bleeding abdomen.
It was at that point, Voldemort let out an unearthly wail, the ring falling from his hand, and in his fury, pointed his wand at a frightened Bellatrix. He kept the Crucio on her, wanting her to suffer his pain many times over. It did not matter to him whether she was driven to insanity or died. She had killed his Anaïs and his heir.
Amid Bellatrix's screams, Voldemort could hear Dumbledore say something to him, as if to console him of sorts.
"She knew what she was getting into, Tom."
He had heard them. Hurtful words that festered his reopened wound.
He had promised to protect her, no matter what happened. And now she had died, because of him. Not only her, but his son. Their son.
Turning to his remaining Death Eaters, he screamed, "GET OUT!" No one dared to take a demented, babbling Bellatrix back down.
"You disgust me," he growled at what remained of Bellatrix Black, "Avada Kedavara."
Left to his own devices in the office, Voldemort bent over to the girl's face, and with his skeletal hand, caressed it. It was cold – dead cold, and the tell-tale sign of a deathly blue hue appeared on her lips.
After what seemed like an eternity to him, he whispered to her, as if she was still alive.
"Anaïs, I spent forever wondering where you went. They promised to help me find you and our child with all their resources, as long as I would lead them with my power on with their Pureblood mania. To kill people like you."
Pausing, he saw the portrait of Dumbledore disappear into nothingness.
"Remember that night? I promised I would never join them. And look at me now," he spat spitefully, "You would be sickened by me."
He could feel something warm sliding down his cheeks. Touching them, he knew they were tears. Something he had not shed for years. "I love you, Anaïs, and I'm sorry."
Suddenly, a voice, albeit hoarse, but firm, sounded behind him, "Get off her, you bastard. Get off Hermione."
So she was the Hermione. "No."
For once since a very long time, Harry Potter was confused about his opponent. His greatest enemy, and his best friend, together? "Get off Hermione, or I will kill you."
Voldemort looked up at Harry, his human features rapidly unfurling; revealing the old Tom Riddle. "Kill me then."
Hesitating, Harry pointed his wand at the man who killed his parents, his friends, and all he held dear. Including Hermione.
Glowering at Tom Riddle, Harry growled, "I want you to know how it feels like, to have your loved one killed. And you killed her yourself."
Tom Riddle glanced at the wand in his hand. "If you're not going to do it, I'm going to have to do this myself. Your precious Order Members are coming soon," he snarled, point his wand at his temple, "Avada Kedavara."
The last thoughts running through his mind were about Anaïs… or to be more correct, Hermione. The words that he had engraved on her wedding ring were running through his head… A name makes no matter to me, as long as I can call you my own.
And with that, he collapsed, onto the carpet, next to his beloved.
Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Killed-Voldemort was the only one who really knew about the events inside that room. People would speculate, and wonder what spell he had used. But he would not reply them, and became a hermit himself.
All the remaining Death Eaters were hunted down, and the people who died given burials that reflected their heroic deeds. Harry himself ordered that Tom Riddle's body be left in peace – and secretly buried Hermione and him together on Hogwarts Grounds, near Dumbledore's tomb. The only marker of their graves is an obsidian gravestone, marking:
Tom Riddle Jr. & Hermione 'Anaïs' Riddle-Granger
In omni adversitate fortunae, infelicissimum genus est infortunii fuisse felicem
Before he left the Wizarding World forever, Harry stumbled upon a Pensive in the Headmistress' Office, and examined it. It was not Dumbledore's, instead, it contained Hermione's memories during the time she was Anaïs – her story with Tom Riddle.
By the time he left though, he was a changed man, with a different opinion of Tom Riddle. He left the Pensive there, for anyone who wanted to see their story, which eventually ended in tragedy, and headed back to the Muggle World.
It all started with a certain bushy-haired girl inside the Headmistress' Office, three weeks before the attack on Hogwarts happened...
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but this is our last chance," came the Headmistress' voice, pitying her young ward for the choice she had to make, "It's the last resort that Dumbledore left to us."
Her chocolate eyes brimming with tears, Hermione questioned, "To change the future by going in the past? What if I change something and then Harry will never be born? I could..."
"There, there, Hermione," murmured Minerva McGonagall, as she enveloped the 18 year old girl in a hug. She had been placed in her care after the massacre of her relatives at a family party, and despite treatment, found it hard to cope.
Dumbledore's portrait popped back - a rare occasion, and in a fatherly way, spoke to Hermione, "I know this may not seem to be right, but the Wizarding World and Harry's success rests in your hands. We will send you back to the time when Tom Riddle was in Seventh Year, and we will need to alter your age."
Minerva stared at the portrait. "I thought... we didn't need to alter her age!"
Glumly, the portrait replied, "Just tweaking two years, Minerva. She is nineteen, and we need to get to him before he graduates.."
Hermione nodded, putting on a brave face. "Bring it on."
Snape, who was in the corner, handed her a foul-smelling, blue potion. She took a swig, her face scrunched from the horrible taste, and finished it, dropping the flask on the floor with a shattering clash. Hermione shrunk slightly, her body more petite than usual - but her robes still fit her.
Minerva strode forwards and gave her another suffocating hug, before stating, "You will by known as Anaïs Burke, only surviving daughter of Belvina Black and Herbert Burke. Your two brothers, Balthazar and Crius, along with your parents, died during an attack from Grindelwald. Albus has planned all of this, and anything that you need, you may ask Albus. I will be there too..."
She had told Harry of this plan, but she never told him she would be leaving today. With tears still in her eyes, she watched as the people she loved froze as she turned the Time-Turner back and forth, jumping decades from her current time.
The Latin quote on the gravestone means 'At every blow of fate, the cruelest kind of misfortune is to have been happy'.
And for those who are curious, Anaïs is pronounced A-na-ees.