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The water in the Merpeople's village was frigid, not that Hermione could feel it. Hermione was in her enchanted sleep, perfectly unaware of her surroundings or anything else, exactly as she was meant to be.
Within her, however, something was happening that had not been intended. Something was awakening, something powerful.
When Viktor brought her to the surface and she awakened, it didn't register immediately. She was pulled out of the water and brought over to Madam Pomfrey, who wrapped her in a warm blanket and gave her a Wiggenweld Potion, which removed the lingering drowsiness from Dumbledore's enchantment. And as the potion took effect, she realized that she felt peculiar in a different way.
"Could ve talk?" She followed Viktor away without answering, focused on the strangeness within her.
"I haff never felt this vay about any other gorl."
She listened, but still didn't respond. Her thoughts searched relentlessly for an explanation of what she was feeling, what was different inside her.
"I think you should leave me alone for a while," she told him.
He did.
* * *
"Hey, Hermione, are you alright?" Dean Thomas asked her gently after yet another howler erupted in front of her at dinner.
"Fine," she replied brusquely, scowling at her hands, which were still wrapped up following the incident with the bubotuber pus. "Could you help me with my bag, please?"
He kindly did so.
* * *
It took months for her to realize the extent of the change, as more and more boys started to do whatever she asked without rebuke. She was used to Harry not making a fuss when she gave him advice, but when Ron stopped complaining about her bossiness, she knew something was very strange. That was when she noticed that all the boys she had made requests of over the past months seemed to linger around her, eager to fulfill more such requests.
She also, for some reason, attracted the ire of Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, who would watch her with narrow eyes whenever she was in sight. And she felt her own aversion to Fleur that was different from her previous envy; there was something about Fleur that was simply too warm, too dry, as though getting too close to the part-Veela would cause Hermione's very soul to dry up and wither.
"Don't let her win the tournament," she told Viktor, who nodded as obediently as he had over the past months. "And protect Harry," she added to Cedric.
She had no idea just how badly that command would backfire at his expense.
* * *
By Fifth Year, she was finding herself regularly drawn to bodies of water. She spent long evenings in the Prefects' Bathroom, swimming back and forth in the vast, pool-like bath and enjoying the grip of the water on her skin. She even snuck down to the lake on a few quiet nights, feeling the frigid water envelop her just as it had when she was unconscious during the Second Task. The water seemed to move with her, flowing around her however she desired it to, and clung to her skin after she emerged. She always felt reluctant to dry off, and often didn't, not minding when her clothes got damp beneath her robes.
* * *
"Listen to me," she urged Harry, "this is a trap. Voldemort is just making you see what he wants you to see."
"But what about Sirius?"
"It's too dangerous," she told him, and then something occurred to her. "Follow me."
He did so, as did Ron and Neville, with Ginny and Luna trailing behind more uncertainly. She led them down to the dungeons and barged into Snape's office.
"What do you think you are doing, Miss—"
"Be quiet," she snapped, and he shut his mouth. "You are to send word to Sirius Black immediately, tell him that Voldemort is attempting to use him to trick Harry, and to stay safe wherever he is."
Snape seized his wand and conjured a bright patronus in the shape of a doe, which immediately darted out of the office. Minutes later, a dog patronus appeared in its place, letting them know that Sirius was safe.
* * *
"Phlegm," Ginny muttered under her breath, frowning as Fleur traipsed around the kitchen at the Burrow.
Fleur, however, kept frowning at Hermione, who frowned back. The two were avoiding each other like each held a plague the other refused to risk contracting. And Bill was also avoiding Hermione; he, too, was giving off that same uncomfortable warmth that Fleur was giving, as though she had spread that heat over him along with her allure.
"Why don't we go for a swim in the stream?" she suggested to Ginny, feeling the need to get away from the heat and into the cool water.
Ginny agreed, but even the stream felt a little too warm beneath the summer sun. That changed when Hermione focused on the temperature of the water around her, and to her amazement, it cooled.
"What did you do?" Ginny asked, frowning at the water as the cold crept around her.
"I don't know." Hermione cupped her hand and lifted a tiny puddle out of the stream, watching it freeze at her silent command.
* * *
She waited at the back of the cemetery in Little Hangleton, her army of boys arrayed behind her and a dozen tubs full of water in front of her. "Morsmordre!" she cried, shooting the Dark Mark into the air to bait her trap.
"Hermione!" Fleur appeared, with Bill by her side, her eyes glowing like fire and her allure flaring outwards. Dozens of other men appeared behind her, all under her thrall.
She had built her own army.
"Don't interfere with this!" Hermione commanded. "I'm going to destroy Voldemort once and for all and free this country!"
"You don't understand the magic that you are unleashing!" Fleur countered.
"Oh, but I do." Raising her hand, Hermione summoned the water from the nearest tub and froze it into a ball of ice.
Fleur's eyes glowed brighter, and she raised her own hand. A ball of fire appeared in the air above it, and she hurled it at the ball of ice, melting it away.
"You've honed your powers, Veela," Hermione spat, feeling her rage start to freeze the water in the other tubs.
"I knew that I would need to stop you, Siren," Fleur replied, summoning another ball of fire.
A high, cold laugh echoed across the graveyard. Voldemort appeared in the air above them, slowly drifting down to the ground in a cloud of darkness. His Death Eaters appeared behind him.
"Well now, this is a fascinating display of old magic." His red eyes danced between Hermione and Fleur.
"Death Eaters," Hermione called, "you will turn against the Dark Lord!"
Voldemort laughed again. "Your powers are far too weak, Siren. All those who bear my mark cannot stray from my will."
"Have it your way, then," Hermione grumbled. With a sweep of her wand, the water shot out of one of the tubs and formed into an icicle that impaled the nearest Death Eater. "Defeat the Dark Lord!" she commanded her army.
At the same time, Fleur hurled her second fireball at another of the Death Eaters. "Liberté!" she cried, and her own thralls turned towards the Death Eaters.
Hermione's boys and the Veela's thralls were many, but the Death Eaters were powerful. Fire and ice and spells clashed against each other, and people fell on all sides.
Finally, Hermione and Fleur faced down the Dark Lord himself. They broke through his potent defenses and burned and froze him at the same time, until Hermione finally managed to blast an icicle through his chest. As his body hit the ground, the graveyard fell silent.
Hermione and Fleur faced each other, their breaths ragged. And then Fleur was approaching, and Hermione let her, and their lips crashed together in an intense battle of hot and cold. Their powers swirled around them, intensifying rather than negating each other.
The world would never be the same.