Can't run from time

A sharp pain throbbed at the back of Hermione's head as she stirred, the scent of damp grass filling her senses. Her body felt heavy, as if she had been dropped from the sky. Did it work? Where am I?

  Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, the grey, cloudy sky of Scotland looming above her. The air was cold. The ground beneath her was soft but freezing. She blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim light, and then— "Hermione!"" Before she could even sit up, two pairs of arms wrapped around her, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

 "Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron's voice was thick with emotion, his grip on her tighter than ever. "Where the hell have you been?" "We thought—we thought you were dead." Harry's voice wavered, his hands trembling as he clutched her shoulders. His green eyes were rimmed with dark circles beneath them. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. 

 Hermione gasped, barely processing their words. "What—what do you mean?" Her voice came out hoarse. She swallowed, glancing at the courtyard. The familiar stone walls of Hogwarts surrounded her. "I—how long have I been gone?" 

 Harry pulled back, still gripping her arms. "Three days," he said, almost breathless. "Three entire days, Hermione." 

 Her heart stopped. Only three days? She had spent many many months in the past—lived and breathed another life with Tom. But here, in this timeline, only three days had passed. She could barely comprehend it. "I—I wasn't feeling well," she stammered, forcing a small, weak smile. "Madam Pomfrey took care of me." 

Neither of them seemed convinced, but Ron let out a heavy breath of relief. "Thank Merlin," he muttered, shaking his head. "We were losing our minds, Hermione. No one knew where you were." Harry let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "You really scared us," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

  Something inside Hermione twisted. She had missed them more than words could explain, but the second she saw Harry—really looked at him—her stomach dropped. The scar. It was still there. Her breath caught in her throat. *No...* She had begged Tom. Begged him not to become this. Yet, here Harry stood, the lightning bolt scar still carved into his forehead, proof that Lord Voldemort still existed. Proof that nothing had changed. Her hands trembled slightly, but she forced them still. 

"How is—how is everything?" she asked carefully, trying to sound casual. Ron snorted, shaking his head. "You've only been gone three days, Hermione, not three years. What do you mean how is everything?" But Harry didn't laugh. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching. "You mean the war," he said darkly. Hermione felt her stomach churn. "Yes." Ron sighed, running a hand down his face. "It's worse than ever," he muttered, his voice strained. She watched as harry and Ron both shared a sad glance. Harry put an arm around Ron as Ron broke out into tears.

 She barely had time to process what was happening when movement caught her attention. A group of Hogwarts professors strode across the courtyard, their expressions grim. Three long, black coffins hovered behind them, carried by magic. A chill ran down Hermione's spine. Her mouth went dry. "Who—" Harry closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Dean. Seamus...and Ginny" The world stopped. The blood in her veins turned to ice. 

 She turned to him, her voice shaking. "No," she whispered. "They're gone, mione....my little sister is gone..." Ron said, his voice hollow. A wave of nausea hit her so hard she thought she might collapse. Her hands covered her mouth. "No, no, no—what happened?" 

 Harry swallowed, his jaw clenching so tight it looked painful. "It was Voldemort," he said, venom in his voice. "Four days ago." Hermione barely registered Ron's words as he explained. Grimmauld Place. A late-night attack. Harry had barely escaped. Voldemort hadn't come for him—he had come for the others. And he killed them. 

 Tom. Hermione's vision blurred. Her chest ached, her stomach twisting. She had begged him to be better. To listen to her. He hadn't. He never would. A sudden, unbearable rage burned through her veins, hotter than anything she had ever felt before. And before she even realised what she was doing, she turned on her heel and stormed off. 

 "Hermione!" Harry called after her. "Where are you going?" She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mind was already made up. — The second she stepped into the Headmaster's office, she didn't even hesitate. Her fingers grabbed the small glass pot of Floo Powder by the fireplace. With a sharp inhale, she threw the powder into the flames, turning them emerald green. "The Ministry of Magic!" The spinning made her dizzy, but the second she stumbled into the Ministry's atrium, she was already moving. 

 She didn't care if she was seen. She didn't care if it was reckless. She was furious. She spent months there with him. Caring for him, helping him.. all to keep harry alive and yet now, in her alternate future ginny was gone instead.  Her feet carried her straight to the lower levels, where  the "punished" Death Eaters were kept. And that's where she found him. A captured Death Eater, chained to a chair, his head slumped forward. He had probably annoyed Voldemort and that's why he was down there.

She stepped into the cell, slamming the door behind her. The noise startled him awake, his eyes widening when he saw her. "You," he spat. "What do you want, little girl?" Hermione didn't speak. Didn't hesitate. She flicked her wand. Crucio. The Death Eater let out a strangled gasp, his body convulsing. "Where is he?" she demanded, her voice low, shaking with fury. "I—" Crucio. A scream tore through the cell. She didn't flinch. Didn't blink. She had done this too many times to care now. She had plenty of practice with Tom. "Where. Is. Voldemort?" she hissed. The Death Eater whimpered, panting. "The house," he finally gasped. "Little Hangleton." 

 Hermione lowered her wand. She had what she needed. She strode out of the cell, ignoring the way her hands trembled. She was going to face him. And this time—this time she wouldn't let him go without a fight.