Can't run from time

A day passes. The Riddle House was quiet that evening. As always...

Tom had secluded himself in his studied that evening. His obsession with power and immortality had consumed him, leaving Hermione free to slip into the shadows.

She took a steadying breath as she approached his private office. The door was cracked open just enough for her to see inside. A single lamp cast flickering light across the desk, where Tom's wedding ring rested next to a pile of dark, leather-bound books. The Time Turner lay beside it, the delicate chain catching the light like a web spun from pure gold.

Her heart pounded as she inched closer, careful not to make a sound.

It wasn't the first time she had seen the Time Turner since Tom had taken it. He had flaunted it on occasion, spinning it idly between his fingers as if daring her to try to take it back. But tonight, he wasn't in the room. Tonight, she had a chance.

Hermione slipped inside, her eyes darting to the hallway behind her. She knew the wards Tom had placed on the house, and she had spent weeks subtly tweaking them, ensuring they wouldn't alert him to her presence.

She moved quickly, her hands trembling as she reached for the Time Turner. The moment her fingers closed around the cool metal, a rush of guilt flooded her chest. She hesitated, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions.

He'll never forgive you.

But he can't know.

Hermione wrapped the chain around her fingers, shoving the thought aside. The clock was ticking, and she couldn't afford to waste a second.

As she turned to leave, a faint creak echoed down the hall. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. Footsteps. Steady, deliberate, growing louder.

Tom.

Panic surged through her, but she forced herself to stay calm. She slipped the Time Turner into the pocket of her robes and darted to the far side of the room, pressing herself against the wall. 

The footsteps stopped just outside the door, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he might come inside.

Instead, the door swung open an inch further, and Tom's voice broke the silence.

"Hermione?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She clenched her fists, willing herself to stay silent.

He lingered in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the room. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the sharp line of his jaw. After what felt like an eternity, he stepped back and closed the door, his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Hermione let out a shaky breath, her legs trembling beneath her. She didn't waste another second. She slipped out of the room, navigating the corridors like a ghost.

When she reached the library, she retrieved the small package she had prepared earlier—a carefully sealed envelope addressed to Albus Dumbledore. She slipped the Time Turner inside, along with a hastily written note:*Headmaster, I found it. im ready to go. please repair this.*

She tied the package securely to the leg of an owl, whispering a soft command before sending it into the night. Watching the owl disappear into the darkness, she felt a pang of regret.

Tom will figure it out eventually. But she would deal with that when the time came.

For now, she had bought herself a sliver of hope—and perhaps a bit of time.