A/N: Hi everyone! So this is the prequel to 'If Life Was Normal, What Would We Do For Fun?'. It's a bit more serious and intense than my other fic, and sets up the background for the Remus/Hermione relationship, as well as explains a bit about Hermione's history with Snape. I hope everyone enjoys it, I'd love feedback, and I'll tell you right now, that this wasn't intended to be a literary masterpiece, so don't expect it to be!
--Aimes
Hermione Jane Granger awoke with a start. She lay in her bed for a moment, waiting for the feeling of unease to pass when she heard voices. Voices? Lots of voices. And they're not mum and daddy. Hermione rose quietly from her bed and tried to think about where her wand was. In the closet locked in my trunk at the back. Brilliant. She edged toward her desk. Switchblade in the top drawer, courtesy of dad, better than nothing I suppose. She opened the drawer silently and picked up the knife, clipping it onto the waistband of her pajamas. She straightened and froze.
From downstairs there was a feminine scream. "HERMIONE! RUN!" And then a bloodcurdling shriek of pain and suffering. Footsteps pounded up the stairs and Hermione snapped into action, fumbling for a remote control and clicking several buttons. Her radio switched on, blaring at top volume, and Hermione struggled with the latch on her window. Really should've oiled this bugger. She got it open as three individuals forced open her bedroom door. Without waiting to see who it was, Hermione jumped.
"You come on like a drug, I just can't get enough, I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more. And there's so much at stake, I can't afford to wait, I never needed anybody like this before…"
And caught the branch of the oak tree outside her window. She swung a few times, tearing into her palms with the tree bark, then dropped to the ground and took off, hearing the strains of Garbage blasting through her window. Come on Hermione, think. Dad's motorcycle, on the curb, keys in the secret compartment near the fuselage. Go. Lights in other houses were beginning to turn on as Hermione hopped the motorcycle and took off. She swerved instinctively as she heard the hex fired off behind her. Bloody hell there's no gas. Thanks dad. I've just got to make it to the park, though. That's all I need. She'd made it the three blocks to the park when the motorcycle stalled. Hermione let it coast, then ditched it and ran into the dense copse of trees. She could hear them behind her and she put on more speed. Her legs were hurting from the drop from the tree and her hands were bleeding freely. Must've hit my head on the window sill a bit harder than I thought. Gods my head hurts.
She skidded to a stop at the edge of the small canyon in the park. Not too far to jump, I can make it.
"You could probably make it, but do you want to risk it?" Hermione spun and faced the Deatheater before her. He was tall and imposing, his wand out and aimed at her.
"Don't you people give up?" Knife might hit him if I aim well enough…I'm buggered.
"Funny, I was wondering the same of you. Your head must be pounding. You slammed it on the window hard enough to get at least a moderate concussion, I should think. Yet you managed to start and drive the motorcycle and run at least two miles into this forest. Impressive."
"How'd you follow?"
"Tracking spell."
"Damn. Unfair advantage."
"Deatheater, my dear. If we played by the rules we'd hardly inspire fear."
"Fair enough. So we're at an impasse. I'm pretty sure I could dodge whatever spell you're thinking of firing, and you could probably tackle me or peg me before I made it across the gap."
"All things considered, I think I have the advantage. Surrender, now." His voice lowered to barely audible tones. "I'm here to help you, Hermione. Trust me."
"Yes, and my parents are alive and having tea with your colleagues. I hit my head but I'm not an idiot."
The Deatheater sighed.
"Is the Mudblood Princess giving you trouble? I would be more than happy to help."
Hermione was distracted by the new voice, and the Deatheater facing her fired off a binding spell. She hit the ground, unable to do anything but look around. Ah hell, you're screwed, Mya. Good one. Fell for the oldest trick in the book: distract and disable. Pathetic.
The Deatheater strode forward and lifted her as though she were weightless.
"I have it under control. You know the Dark Lord's orders for her."
"Yes, yes, release her to her friends when you've finished your fun with her, she'll be more useful later. Pity, though." Fun with me? Oh that's not good.
"Indeed." The Deatheater holding her disapparated.
And apparated in a small glen near…The headquarters of the Order? Snape? He released the binding spell but did not put her down. "You are actually quite badly injured, Miss Granger. I shall carry you the rest of the way."
He carried her into the headquarters and set her down on the couch. Remus Lupin entered and sat next to her.
"You can't go to sleep Hermione."
"I know, concussion."
"Severus is making a potion that will deal with that. Hermione…"
"Yes, I know. They're dead. I'm shocked Snape was able to save me."
He hugged her tightly and stroked her hair as she began to tremble. "You have made it this far, Miss Granger. Do not turn into a blubbering mass now." Snape's tone was sharp.
"Too late, Professor. I promise not to cry on your robes, take what you can get."
He handed her a potion. "Drink this, Miss Granger. It will heal your concussion and make you sleep. Lupin and I will carry you to your bedroom. We shall deal with everything else in the morning."
"Best idea I've heard from you tonight." She drank it quickly and settled back against the couch cushions, letting the potion wash over her and ease her into a gentle, dreamless sleep.
A/N: The song is Temptation Waits by Garbage from the Version 2.0 album.
