Summary: Another time travel story, but not your typical one. This time, it's not your regular Harry that goes back in time because everything's gone wrong; this time, it's Harry Potter, the new Dark Lord that goes back, because he's finally realized the one thing he was missing: Hermione Granger. HHr

Dreaded Author's notes:

So you all probably want to kill me for not updating Second Chance. I swear I do not plan on abandoning it, but I've come to a standstill, and I've got this new idea in my head that just NEEDED to be set free. Don't worry, I will update this one story much more regularly than I did for Second Chance, and I've already gotten ahead a few chapters.

This is AU, and there are no horcruxes. The concept never really appealed to me, so it follows canon up to fifth year, and then the timeline diverged drastically, which will be explained later on. There will be some Dumbledore and Ron bashing as well, so you've been warned.

I like to read stories where Harry goes back in time, but he always acts all concerned about not changing the timeline, not showing how powerful he is, hiding his knowledge; and it gets tiring. So in this one, Harry the Dark Lord comes back, so he actually has a backbone, won't hesitate to act to get what he wants, and relishes in having people see just how powerful he is.

(BTW- I apologize for any errors in grammar. As I've mentioned before, English isn't my first language.)


It had been a few months now, since Harry had commissioned the job to that wannabee death eater, Johnston, and he was getting impatient. It was supposedly going to be finished by today, he'd been assured of it. But then again, people would always tell lies to save their own skin, to buy some time…

Really, how long did it take to brew a simple potion, anyway? Granted, it had never been done before, but still…

Now, if Hermione had been there; she would've finished it in a matter of days, if not hours. But really, no one could compare with her, no one. Like so many other times, the ghost of a tear tried to appear upon his face, but he wouldn't let it. No, he would be strong. He would go on until he finished his task, and then everything would be all right. He'd be back with her, no worries, and no one would ever take her away again.

One of the lesser minions knocked on the door and approached Harry.

It'd better be good news thought Harry Or else a cruciatus may be in order.

"Mmaa… maa-master" stammered the idiotic little man "The potion… it's, it's ready, sir."

"Good" answered Harry, his tone neutral, as always "Tell that Johnston idiot I'll be there in a second. I just need to… do a few things."

"Y…yes, sir" cried the little man, as he hurriedly made his way out.

Finally ,thought Harry, The day has finally come. And for the first time in six years, four months and seven days, a smile lit his face.

He was twenty-four years old, and already, the most powerful and feared man in England.

He had killed Voldemort at nineteen, as well as his closest followers, then went on to take full control of the ministry of magic, without any trouble at all. The people hailed him as the defeater of Voldemort, as their savior; and Voldemort's former followers, fearful for their own lives, all turned to his side.

He had absolute power and riches. Women threw themselves at his feet. So why did he not enjoy it? Why was it that no matter how much he had, he could never smile? The answer was simple: Hermione Granger was not by his side.

It had taken him long to realize it, far too long. But as the months had passed by during the War, and he'd watched all of his friends die or betray him; he'd become increasingly aware of just how much he appreciated having Hermione remain by his side. How much he needed her. It had not taken long for Ron to betray them, being lured by power and a chance to save his own hide, just like Wormtail had once been. But Hermione had remained by his side, through thick and thin, and one day, as he'd woken up beside her, in the dingy, tiny room that they shared in hiding, he'd realized that he had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with her.

But he'd been too weak then, too puny and scared of rejection. He'd let life go on, without ever revealing his feelings… and then she had been killed.

He'd watched thousands others die by then, had become insensitive to their screams, their suffering. But Hermione's death pushed him over the edge.

From that day on, he hated himself for being weak, for not being strong enough to protect her, and most of all, for not telling her how he really felt.

From that point on, everything had changed, and, within months, Voldemort was defeated. Dumbledore had been wrong. It wasn't love that would help him defeat Voldemort, it was hatred.

His first act as minister of magic had then been to pass forward a law that increased the rights of house elves and other magical creatures. With these laws, most house elves now had more power than their former owners. He then fired every single pureblood from any position of even relative power, and replaced them all with half-bloods and muggleborns.

He longed to satisfy the growing loneliness he felt, the growing hole in his heart, by honoring her wishes, all that which she once sought to achieve. But as time went on, he discovered that he couldn't. That no matter what he did, that loneliness he felt would only increase. He really could not live without her. So he'd devised a plan.

During her last months of life, and because of all the people they had lost, Hermione had turned to reading books on dark magic. A few of them gave her an idea, and she sought to do what no one other had ever done before: revive the dead. After months of research and work, however, they concluded that it just couldn't be done. Nonetheless, inadvertently, they'd created a ritual that, according to their calculations, with a few minor changes, could reverse back time, but allowing them to keep their memories intact. But they'd been too stupid, too noble to do so.

It could have terrible consequences. It's not right to mess with time, he'd said back then; and she'd agreed.

He regretted this decision every day now, but it didn't matter. Now that he was in power, he could do whatever he wished. He'd finished the modifications for the ritual, perfected it completely. His only problem had been getting a good potions brewer. It had to be the very best. Johnston had come in then, and everything was set. Granted, it had taken much longer than he'd hoped for, but soon, he'd have all the time he needed.

As Harry made his way down the marble staircase, he reviewed his plan in his head, already anxious to see his Hermione again. But really, it was a simple plan. He would go back in time to the beginning of his fourth year, enjoy life, get Hermione as his girlfriend, wait until he won the Triwizards Tournament, and then kill Voldemort when he portkeyed to the cemetery with Cedric. Really, as if Wormtail and that cheap little imitation of a human could subdue him now. Granted, it was not the most complex of plans, but it didn't matter; either way, it would be easy enough to kill Voldemort; it was the least of his worries; all he cared about was seeing Hermione again. Would she accept being his girlfriend? Did she care for him that way? That's been the only reason he chose fourth year to go back, really. It would have been easier to just go back to his first year and kill Voldemort straight out before he had the least bit of power, but then he'd have to go through the whole process of befriending Hermione again, and frankly, he didn't have the patience for that. This way, they would already have three years of friendship behind them, and it would make it that much easier to win her heart.

She would be his. Hopefully willingly, and if not… well, there were plenty of ways to make her love him.

Harry stopped his musings as he reached the door to Johnston's study. It was time.

He opened the door and the pudgy little man stood there, looking obviously pleased with himself, as well as relieved. Harry approached the cauldron that stood in a corner. He had no way of telling whether the potion had been brewed properly or not, but it didn't matter. In the worst of cases, he would die, instead of traveling back, but a life without his Hermione was not worth it anyway. Although he did enjoy his power, and making people cower beneath him. It was a welcome change from all those years of abuse, all those years being a weakling… but no, it wasn't worth it without his Hermione.

"It's… it's ready, master" stated Johnston.

Harry rolled his eyes, "I can see that, Johnston. And it better work."

"Oh, yes it will, master, I made sure of it. I followed your instructions perfectly, word for word."

Harry smiled sardonically "Good, then. Everything is set. There's only one thing missing." As he said these words, he turned towards Johnston, the grin upon his face now menacing.

"Wha….what is it, master?"

"As if you didn't know" smirked the young man, and aimed his wife at his lackey.


Johnston fell to the floor, wheezing and gasping for breath, in a pool of his own blood. Unmoved, Harry proceeded to use this blood to draw a circle on the floor. He grabbed a flask of the potion and stepped right in the middle, over the struggling man's body. He wasn't dead just yet, and was begging for mercy. As if it would do him any good. Thinking of the time he wanted to go back to, he drank the foul liquid, fighting the urge to gag. Soon, he'd be with her again.

"Tempus a priori!" Harry exclaimed, and vanished into thin air.

A voice was calling to him. The sweetest voice. For a moment, he even wondered whether he had died and gone to heaven… he really should go to hell, he knew, after all the atrocities he had commited; but surely this voice could only belong to an angel?

"Harry! Harry! What's wrong with you?"

And it was so familiar too. So melodic. He could listen to it, forever. He was so calm, so peaceful... until a pair of strong, rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders, and he was unceremoniously shaken. Really, the nerve of his subordinates! And just as he was having such a pleasant dream! Oh, the cruciatus would come in handy tonight. How dare anybody touch him! He hadn't let anybody touch him in years. Not since she'd been gone.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, but was taken aback by his surroundings. What was this? This wasn't Potter Manor. It seemed strangely familiar, though, like a memory from a dream…

"Harry, my boy! Thank God you're all right!" the voice startled him; a deep, male voice he hadn't heard in years. He turned around, and gasped at what he saw. There was Arthur Weasley, surrounded by the whole Weasley crew. Ron, Ginny, the twins… But instead of feeling happiness, an emotion that was now foreign to him anyways, he felt a deep anger. Ron had betrayed him… Ginny had once tried to douse him with a love potion…It took all of his self-control not to grab his wand and give them what they deserved. But no, he'd learned not to act rashly. He would leave them alive… for now; and then he would make them pay. Slowly, torturously.

And that's when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, making it almost painful to breathe. A nest of bushy brown hair clouded his vision, and suddenly, like a flash, everything came back to him. It had worked! He was back! Back where he belonged. A lonely tear made its way down his cheek, the first one in seven years. Wiping it away quickly, he held on tight to the girl in his arms, never wanting to let go.

Hermione was just as beautiful as he remembered her to be, if not more so. Her beautiful chocolate eyes, that soft complexion, those lips that were just begging to be kissed by him. He wondered how he'd never noticed it before, and felt a newfound respect for Viktor Krum. He'd been the first one to approach Hermione, and that made him a genius in Harry's eyes. Not that this would matter, though. Hermione was his, and if Viktor dear tried to interfere… well, Quidditch accidents were not all that uncommon.

An unwelcome shrilly voice startled him from his moment of ecstasy, and he was once again tempted to kill everybody just so he could have a few moments alone with his Hermione.

"Harry, I am so glad you're okay!" cried out Ginny, approaching him, almost as if expecting a hug as well. As if he would dirty himself with her! No one was allowed to touch him except his Hermione.

Quickly catching on, Harry tried to act the part of the confused teenager "Wha… where am I? What happened?"

Hermione began to extract herself from his, as if planning to explain, but he would not let her. Taking advantage of his supposed confusion, Harry pretended to stand up and stumble, grabbing unto Hermione forcefully and falling down with her on top of him. She then proceeded to stand up, but allowed him to rest up against him. Then, facing towards him (her face was only inches from his, and he could swear he saw a tiny blush appear. He smiled inwardly. This was a good sign).

"We're at the Quidditch Cup, Harry. We just arrived here by Portkey, and it seems that it didn't suit all that well with you. You passed out shortly after landing… we were worried, you know."

His heart beat just a bit faster at the mention of her, worrying over him. He grabbed on to her just a little tighter.

"Yeah, mate!" interrupted Ron "We were bloody scared! Good thing you're all right now, and you can let go of Hermione if you want to. No need to cling on to her, you know."

Shut your bloody mouth or I'll do it for you! , hissed Harry mentally, but limited himself to saying, "Umm… I'm still not feeling all that well, mate. I think I'll hold on to her just a bit more. If you don't mind, Hermione, that is."

"Of course not, Harry. We can't have you falling down again, can we?" she stated in that bossy tone that he loved so much. Oh, how he'd missed her.

"Are you sure, Harry? I mean, I could help you too, you know. So that it won't be as hard on Hermione." This was stated by the little redhead whore, as Harry liked to call her, but was thankfully saved by Hermione's reply, "Nonsense, Ginny. I am more than capable of helping Harry along, so don't trouble yourself."

Harry could swear that, as she said this, she tightened his hold on him, almost possessively, and this was a very welcome action on her part. It was enough encouragement for him. He was assertive now, the most powerful man in England… at least in a few years' time he would be, and he would always get what he wanted. Starting today, he would commence to woo Hermione. And really, what girl wouldn't fall at his feet? Not that any other girl actually mattered, of course. All he wanted was Hermione.

A few minutes later they had arrived at the camping site, and settled in the magical tent. Arthur told everyone they could go out and see the stands until the game began, and everybody soon took him up on the offer. Harry claimed he wanted to spend a bit more time unpacking and stayed behind, and he took the opportunity to think and sit by himself. The first thing he did was look at himself in the mirror, and did not like what he saw. He was a short and scrawny fourteen-year old, product of years of malnourishment at the Dursley's. Coming from a future where he was tall and ripped after years of intense exercise, it came as quite a shock. He'd forgotten just how much of a weakling he used to be; and he refused to remain like this. He wanted Hermione to fall dead at his feet, after all. And he hated appearing weak.

During their time on the run, Hermione had developed a modification for a rare spell. Using it, they were able to accelerate their physical appearance, without actually subtracting years from their biological clock. This came in quite handy when they traveled in the muggle world, with no identification, and being underaged.

Harry concentrated, feeling the waves of magic surge inside him. He'd been doing wandless and silent magic for years now, but he wondered whether he would be capable of it in his "new" body. It took a bit more effort than usual, but he started to feel a change, and saw his body visibly enlarge, until his trousers became a few inches too small for him. Outwardly, he was now sixteen years old, bordering on seventeen. He'd had a big growth spurt that year, so he was now much taller. Inspecting his body in the mirror, he frowned at his lack of muscle mass. He would have to start training again as soon as he could, but meanwhile, he concentrated again, and felt his muscles develop a bit. He was nowhere near as ripped as he used to be… or would soon be (depending on how you saw it), but he now had a very decent, athletic body.

Transfiguring his clothes to make them fit him more appropriately, and then counting the money he had on him, he left the tent, intent on finding Hermione. As he walked, though, it occurred to him that it might look a bit strange for a teenage boy to grow several inches in a few minutes, so he cast a charm on himself that would affect people's memories. The Weasleys and Hermione would not remember having seen him as a little boy just moments before, and would assume that he'd had a considerable growth spurt during the summer.

It did not take him long to find Hermione, or the rest. Much to his chagrin, though, she was with Ginny, admiring a magical rose from one of the vendors. Harry silently cast a compelling charm on the redhead whore, causing her to leave abruptly, insisting that Hermione should stay, instead of going with her. Shrugging, the bushy-haired girl did just that, and looked wistfully at the rose.

"Hey there, Hermione" his voice had changed as well, he now noticed. It was deeper, huskier. He liked it.

She glanced up, startled, and, for a moment, seemed confused to see him, but soon relaxed; a very noticeable blush unable to leave her face, though. "Oh, Harry, you gave me a fright! I could barely recognize you, you know. You grew so much during the summer, you look much older now."

He laughed and replied "I could say the same about you. Although in your case, it doesn't matter, you're still as beautiful as ever."

Harry had to struggle not to laugh at Hermione's reaction, for she'd opened her mouth wide, and was blinking rapidly, "You didn't mean that."

He frowned, "Au contraire, ma Cherie. Of course I do", he leaned in closer, until he was able to smell the faint scent of strawberries, courtesy of whatever shampoo she used "Now, tell me; what is that?"

She allowed the vendor to explain, instead of answering herself, "This" stated the man "Is a very rare enchanted rose. It shall never wilt, nor does it require water or anything of the sort. It feeds off a person's emotions. If it is held by someone who is feeling sad, it shall turn blue, pink is happy, red passionate, green is jealous, white is peaceful, black is angry and revengeful… and if each of its petals turns a different color, then it means that person is in love. It has… other uses as well, but those, you must discover for yourselves. As I told you, and as you can see for yourself, it is very very rare, which is why its price is so high."

"Do you like it then, Hermione?" asked Harry, his face an expressionless mask.

Her smile faded a little, "Oh yes, Harry, it's very nice, but it's much too expensive; more than my parents have me for this whole trip!"

"How much?"

"50 galleons. I accept muggle money as well, and I believe that would be the equivalent of 750 pounds."

Harry did a quick mental math. He had a total of 100 pounds with him, which, he supposed, his younger counterpart had taken out for the whole school year. But he didn't plan on surviving on that meager amount alone. He was planning on apparating the next day to Gringotts, and reclaiming his inheritance as heir of the House of Potter. As he'd reached the legal age of seventeen, he'd learned that the vault he always got money from was his trust vault alone. He had enough wealth on the main Potter vault to last a lifetime, enough to be emancipated; something which he would have loved to know about before, so that he wouldn't have had to endure all those years with the Dursleys. 50 pounds was a pittance. He received more money daily from interest alone. Not to mention all the businesses that he owned, which continued to operate despite having no Potter in command.

"Wrap it up, I'll take it" he said without flinching.

The man's eyes glowed with greed, and he eagerly accepted the golden coins. Hermione, for her part, was rendered speechless, and Harry could not help but smirk. Just wait, my queen, this is nothing compared to all that I will give you. You will never want for anything, as long as you're by my side. And you will be by my side. You will always be by my side.

And of course, Hermione, being who she is, started to adamantly protest, stating that it was much too expensive, that he couldn't possible spend that amount on her. Harry was quick to shush her, of course.

"Hermione, you do not know this, but I have more wealth than I could possibly need in my life. For me, 50 pounds is a pittance, and I would willingly spend much more to make you happy. So please take it, will you?"

Even with these reassurances, it was hard to get Hermione to accept the darn rose, which frustrated Harry to no end. Threatening that she had to take it, or else he would just buy it anyways and throw it away, she relented, and thanked him profusely afterward.

"Thank you so much, Harry! I... I don't know how to thank you, really. Anything I can do for you, anything. Just tell me and I'll do it, okay?"

Don't say those kinds of things, Hermione, thought Harry, or I might take you up on the offer. And believe me, what I want to do with you is very naughty. But who could blame the boy, really? Despite being the most sought-after bachelor in the wizarding world, he refused to get close to any girl after the death of Hermione. He would not sullen himself with anyone else. As such, he had years of repressed sexual frustration that needed to be released. He hadn't ever had a decent kiss, for crying out loud! Cho did NOT count. He was glad, though, because then he could lose his virginity with Hermione. And he would take hers, of course. He would be her very first everything. He would make sure of that. Nobody else could ever touch her.

The vendor handed her the rose, wrapped up in delicate paper, and advised her not to open it until she was alone. It could be embarrassing to reveal her feelings so openly.

Once this was done, the two teens walked around. Deciding that, after so many years of contact-deprivation he deserved to at least hold Hermione's hand, he did just that. She was startled, but did not let go, and limited herself to wondering just what was wrong with him. Not that he cared, as long as he could touch her. And then, of course, the idiotic duo (eg- Ron backstabber and Ginny Whore Weasley) arrived, and Harry had to cast a notice-me not charm on them so that they wouldn't notice. Hermione was obviously very confused because of their lack of reaction, but let it slide.

Unfortunately, the idiotic and very much unwelcome duo stuck to them the whole time, until the match finally began. Of course, as soon as the veelas appeared, Ron had to be practically bound to his chair to keep from falling off and chasing after them. It seemed that every single male had some sort of reaction, at least a small one, except for Harry, something which amazed both Hermione and Ginny to no end.

"Harry, how is it that you don't seem affected by them?" asked Hermione, bewildered.

"Not interested" he answered simply "I've got my eyes set on a much more beautiful girl than all of them combined. Heck, they don't even deserve to be classified in the same category as her."

"Really? Oh… I didn't know you were so much in love. It's… it's Cho, isn't it? Don't worry, I'll help you with her. Shouldn't be a problem, though, I mean, with how you look and all that…"

Harry could see the dejection in her eyes; and could not tell whether to be happy, amused, or irritated. Really, for the smartest witch in her year, she could be surprisingly dense at times. And really, what was with the low self-confidence? Couldn't she see just how beautiful she was? Sighing, he decided to let it be, for now, and let the comment slide. But then, of course, out came Krum and the whole team, and the quidditch match began. And Harry, focusing on Hermione instead of the game, managed to notice the tiniest, practically invincible, but nonetheless very much present, glint in her eyes as Krum was announced; and this, believe it or not, was more than enough to spark his jealousy. Really! He'd always believed Krum had sought her out with no encouragement on her part, but this… perhaps she had not been immune to his charm and fine, as he'd always assumed she was. Hermione was just better at hiding it than the rest of the girls. Not from him, though. The nerve of the girl! To sigh over anyone other than himself! He'd show her!

Casting another silent notice-me not charm, this one enveloping them completely, he literally hauled Hermione off the stands, and outside the pitch, finding a secluded spot amidst the woods.

Hermione, of course, not appreciating the rather rough way she was handled, snatched her hand away as soon as she could, and proceeded to shout, "What the hell is wrong with you, Harry! Dragging me off in the middle of the match! And without telling anyone! What has gotten into you?"

Having no patience for her ramblings, especially after seeing her sigh over another man that wasn't him, he calmly answered, his voice completely even "Hermione, what do you think of Viktor Krum?"

She obviously did not expect this question, and blushed almost imperceptibly; but Harry noticed, of course. "I…I, well, I don't know him or anything, but he is pretty charming, I guess. There must be a reason so many girls go after him, right? And he is rather handsome.

Rather handsome? RATHER HANDSOME?! CHARMING!?!? Oh, she was in for it. Screw all his good intentions of wooing her or whatever. She was HIS! And she would be his, whether she wanted it or not.

"Wrong answer, Hermione" he hissed, and with this; he pressed her up against a tree and roughly pressed her lips against his own, wasting no time in demanding entrance. He was not gentle, and did not intend to be. This was her first kiss, and technically his first as well, but he did not care about being romantic and tender. He just wanted to mark her as his own. If his feelings had been a tiny bit less than they were, he would have even raped her then and there. Unfortunately, he was much too in love with her to do so. She was the only person he would show consideration to, and as such, he settled for ravaging her mouth, giving her a taste of what was to come.

Hermione, frozen in shock at first, took several seconds to react. But she did not push him away, like he'd expected her to. He wanted to believe that she was attracted to him, but he still was not prepared for her to actually respond. She was hesitant at first, but she soon began moaning against his mouth… which made him assume he was doing something right. It wasn't like he had much experience, after all. But there was an instinct guiding him; a thirst he did not know he possessed. Unable to stop his wandering hand, he let it slide under her shirt, and caressed the sensitive skin on her belly, making her cry out. He smirked against her lips. Innocent little Hermione wasn't as innocent as she appeared, or else, she wouldn't be encouraging him this way. Growing tired of her lips, he made his way down, pressing his lips against her neck. He kept on his rough handling; not caring if he let a hickey. On the contrary, he wanted to. It would be his mark over her. Something to tell the world to back off. Hermione was his, and only his.

"Oh…oh Harry!" she gasped, and this encouraged him enough to let his hand wander up even more, until it came dangerously close to her chest. The half-time whistle that resounded across the woods shocked him back to reality, and while he could care less for social decorum and other people, he did respect Hermione, and wanted their first time to be special. If he continued, especially with the way she kept encouraging him, he wouldn't stop even if she begged him to, and the thought bothered him. He'd wait a few weeks, and then the room of requirement would come in handy. Besides, they didn't have enough time right now for him to do everything he wanted to do to her. He needed several hours for that, if not all night. He smiled inwardly, already picturing all the things they would do together.

So, rather reluctantly, he pulled away, encountering a heaving Hermione, whose eyes were glazed over; and who, after the daze wore off, looked thoroughly confused.

"What… what just happened between us?"

Harry smirked, pressing his mouth against her ear and whispering to her "You shouldn't tease me this way, Hermione. Talking that way of other men. It makes me jealous, don't you see?"

"What… what do you mean?"

"It means, Hermione" explained Harry "That I want you to be mine and only mine. I want you to be my girlfriend. Will you?"

"This… this is all so sudden, Harry. I mean, we've always been best friends. To be something more…"

Not in the mood for games (he was still disappointed for having to cut short his ever so pleasant make-out session; really, he cursed that tiny little noble side of him that was still left. Well, at least it only showed itself with Hermione; he could care less what happened to the rest of the world), Harry cut her off, "Hermione, we've known each other for three years; I trust you more than anybody else, and I know you feel the same for me. And really, if all you had to me were platonic feelings, you wouldn't have kissed me back like that. Cause if that was a platonic kiss to you, I really hope you don't have any brothers or sisters, cause that, my dear Hermione, is called incest, and it is frowned upon on most civilized parts of the world…"


"It's the truth, Hermione!" he answered defensively. He leaned down once again, staring intently into her eyes. Hermione shivered slightly, at having a pair of emerald eyes regarding her with such intensity. "Tell me you didn't feel anything, Hermione" his breath tickled her lips, "Tell me you don't want me to kiss you again. Tell me you didn't like it, and we'll just go on as friends. Nothing will change. Just tell you didn't feel anything."

Seeing her lack of response, Harry grinned, "I thought so" and kissed her again.