Hermione had always prided herself on her logic, intuition and intelligence, but even with a combination of all three of these... She could not solve her current problem.
Hermione could race through several books a week, keep up with nearly double the amount of subjects in her third year as anybody else or even have the foresight to of kept her beaded bag packed at all times in their would be final year at Hogwarts. As a young girl still in muggle school, she had worked out equations that her teachers could sometimes struggle with, and was always reading ahead of the class on the Shakespearean texts.
It was a general fact that she was brainy, and everybody expected great things from her.
"Where much is given, much is required!" her mother had always said to her whenever she complained that others were not having to work so hard.
So it was therefore a shock to everybody when Hermione finished school, and began working at Borgin and Burkes. Nobody asked her directly why she did this... But they muttered, rather audibly at that, about how she was losing her way. When she completely updated and revamped the store, adding in a specialist book section (she was Hermione Granger after all!) signed partnership deals with stores all over the world, people began to shift uncomfortably. The general thought running through peoples minds was that she was toying with the "dark side", but again nobody voiced this.
When the unpopular oily shopkeeper died, it was written in his will that Miss Granger should now possess the store, as he had no children himself. This caused more mutters than ever, and a few raised eyebrows as to how such a seemingly sweet and innocent girl had gotten into such a mans good books. Exactly how had she done so well off a man not famed for generosity? Nothing, as you can probably guess by now, was said aloud though.
It was after this event, that Miss Granger's current problem arose. Walking in with out the usual tinkle of a bell that normally announced a customer. Hermione was perusing one of the large, once dusty, books in the back of the store. It was after all break time, and she was making the most of it.
The young man that walked in appeared around her own age, his dark hair and clothes making his pale skin appear almost translucent. He walked steadily to the desk, his legs striding confidently towards her. Placing a slip of paper in the page she was reading before closing it, Hermione turned to greet him.
He spoke barely a word other than to declare he was looking for work. After an interview and a brief glance at his grades and intellect, it was clear he could have received any high position in the wizarding world he wished for. When she asked him about it, he merely shrugged and said she ought to understand, which caused her to bristle so much she considered denying him the post. However, he was quite insistent, and with his qualifications, it was clear he was more than up to the job and willing to fight for it.
People around town noticed that soon after this employment was announced, Miss Granger became even more distant with her friends and past acquaintances, growing increasingly introverted. Spending hours holed up in her office, some whispered she was thinking up some mastermind plan... Others muttered that she was working on something. Fewer still murmured that it was some secret she knew. Yet nobody ever spoke up.
Nobody knew of the frequent meetings she held with her new employee. Then again, nobody asked. Each night he walked to her rooms, to see her.
If anybody had of seen him climbing the staircase in darkness, shrouded in his cloak, the rumour mill would have gone wild. But stimulating conversations, of matters most dare not consider, was the only kind of "forbidden fruit" the pair partook of under the cover of night.
An unspoken arrangement was made between them to keep there relationship secret. Hermione discovered several things from him as they talked late into the nights each day. And each fact made it seem prudent to keep this between just the two of them.
First was the fact he was not from this time. He never stated exactly where he was from, but Hermione was the smartest witch of her age... And she narrowed it down a lot to several possible dates.
Then there was the time he let slip his "followers" would be waiting for him back home. Though he hastily covered this up with a cough and switched to the more conventional "friends," the damage was done.
The time he said he was on a special mission, made the scars on her arm tingle.
Then he spoke of how his teachers loved him as a student. All but one, who never seemed to trust him.
Over time, they grew closer, and he confessed deeper things all the time... Like how he wished people could see past the typical Tom he always felt. How he wanted to change his name if that's what it took.
Not being slow in anyway, Hermione pieced things together. She knew, or rather subconsciously she knew, what was going on. Every night she planned to confront him, to demand he answer her questions, but when he listened to her ideas, and considered them... Challenged them with arguments equally as demanding... It made her heart race. Nobody had ever understood her desire for more knowledge constantly, how she wanted people to see past the typical muggleborn. How she had the approval of teachers, apart from one. More than once she even ruminated on the fact her "friends" were more "followers" to her intellect, seeking her out only for help with a forgotten homework or the easy route to obtaining an answer to a question.
He completely understood her. Maybe it was that made her not realise how everything else was falling into place. Or maybe she did, but just as her subconscious knew... It ignored.
Then one day he cast a spell, one which meant she could no longer ignore the facts. She got it into her head to tell him, to confront him once and for all. When he came round later, she broached the subject of how close they had become and how he could tell her ANYTHING.
Perhaps mistaking the meaning, he leaned across and kissed her. His lips cold against hers, hard and pressed firmly against her mouth. Yet not unpleasant... It sent warmth flooding to her, made her feel more alive than she had in the past few years, even including their chats.
After a while they broke apart, slightly breathless, and she completely forgot what she planned to say. Or did she? She now felt she set out to instigate this. It was what she wanted, and all seemed perfect.
Still nobody said anything on the matter, at least not to the couples themselves anyway, and this secret relationship made everything all the more exciting. The official word was that they were discussing "business" on the 23rd of March, late at night as that was when the store closed at last.
It was on that night that the recently appointed shop assistant to Miss Granger, put the "closed" sign up early in the shop window, and headed to her rooms.
After knocking, he promptly entered of his own accord and walked (as was his way) purposefully inside.
That was all anybody outside could see, anybody inside would of seen him slowly walk up the stairs to find a sobbing Hermione clutching a bottle in one hand. But of course, nobody did. Because nobody spoke or questioned them. If they had though, if they had only just bothered...
He sat down carefully beside her, trying to pry the bottle from her hands. To no avail, as she clung onto it tighter, refusing to release it.
His handsome face was twisted in confusion, as he lifted her head up gently, trying to kiss her. It always seemed to help her in the past. Calmed her. Soothed her. Today though she held up a hand to stop him.
"I know who you are!" she slurred, splashing the drink over herself in the process. Its brown liquid spilling onto her grey skirt, and if anybody outside had smelt its contents they would have declared it far too strong for such an "innocent girl."
"Hermione... I love you, whats wrong? I don't understand..."
Then, as suddenly as if nothing happened, she leaned forward and kissed him. A role reversal perhaps, but he hardly going to complain. As she pulled away,he caught a whisper.
"Voldemort." He froze, did she care? Had she decided that was it now then... Would she demand he leave? Kill him? Hand him to the Dementors?
"Look... I know it's ... You have to understand..."
Trembling, she pulled her top off over her head. Exposing herself, as she stood there in the dining room dimly lit by candles.
"What are y-" She held her arm out in silence, a word shone in red.
Mudblood.