CHAPTER ONE

Summary: The summer after her fifth year, Hermione is attacked in Diagon Alley. As a result she learns more about herself than she ever thought possible. Like how her parents aren't really her parents and her biological father is actually the feared Dark Lord.

Disclaimer: I do not own canon characters or events, they belong to J.K Rowling. I am not making a profit from posting this fanfic.

AN

Alright, the same goes for this one, just as 'I Will Protect You.' I have been working on this for over two years, -since the posting of Soul Bonded, in fact- and I've had several viewers request this paring from the very start of 'Soul Bonded'. The muse has been a little bit difficult with this one, and I'm hoping that since I'm now posting, it will push me into cranking out the chapters, since I have the goal of finishing the fic, and I have the first few chapters written so far.

So, this will also be updated sporadically, and there is no update schedule. This does not mean I've abandoned the others, I'm just trying to get the muse to cooperate by working on some new ideas.

Page count: 11

Malfoy Manor

She lay on the floor in a pool of her own sweat and tears. Her tongue and bottom lip throbbing from holding back the sounds that threatened to escape. Her throat burning from the screams that finally broke free. She looked up from the cold marble floor to the throne like chair, raised several feet off the ground in front of her.

It was where Lord Voldemort was lounging, looking down at her with a smirk on his uncharacteristically pale and wax like face. His red eyes glinted with promises of pain and death, his two slits for a nose, remarkably similar to that of a reptile's. His skeleton like fingers held his ash wand in one hand and the other tapped against the arm rest.

She was surrounded by Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange gripping her wand and cackling after the last Cruciatus Curse Hermione had endured.

One thought entered her mind. 'How did I get here?'

12 Grimmauld Place

A pounding headache. Aching muscles. Sore joints. Heavy limbs. She felt awful.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, before shutting tightly against the harsh, blinding light in the room and she groaned in pain.

"SHE'S AWAKE!" she winced.

"Sorry, 'Mione," a voice muttered. Footsteps clambered against the wooden floorboards and suddenly came to a stop.

"HERMIONE!" several voices yelled. She winced again and groaned.

"Shut up, you idiots," the first voice hissed. Hermione recognised it to be Harry's.

She slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times, getting used to the light in the room. She looked around to see the room filled with Harry and Weasleys, by her count, everyone except the three eldest sons.

A glass of water was lifted to her mouth and she drank it down greedily.

"What happened?" her voice came out hoarse; it was obvious that she had been out for a while.

"The best we can tell, you were attacked, multiple attackers," Harry spoke softly. She looked around the room to see everyone looking at her sadly. "Fred and George found you."

She looked up at them and they gave her small smiles, nothing like their usual contagious, joyous ones.

"Thank you," she said to them.

"Don't mention it, Granger, we just wish we could've gotten to you sooner," Fred spoke; she was still the only person that could tell them apart.

"This could've been prevented," George spoke quietly.

"Do you remember what happened?" Mrs. Weasley asked her worriedly.

Hermione frowned. "I was walking down Diagon Alley; I needed to get a book for a side project I'm working on. I was making my way towards The Leaky Cauldron and then...everything goes black."

"You can't remember anything after that?" Mr. Weasley spoke.

She shook her head. "No, nothing."

"We found you in an alley way between two shops in Knockturn Alley," Fred piped up.

"Knockturn Alley?"

George nodded. "Yeah, some of the ingredients we need for our products aren't exactly legal," he said sheepishly as his mother glared at him.

"We heard a noise and followed it, we found you on the floor, you were barely breathing," Fred spoke. "We apparated you back to our shop and we flooed you here. That was a week ago."

"I've been out for a week?" they nodded. "How badly was I injured?" They all shared a look, obviously they didn't want to tell her. "You either tell me or I set Kreacher on you, he would do it you know?"

"She plays dirty," George commented with a laugh.

"I like it," Fred grinned; Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the small smile from playing at her lips.

"Your injuries were extensive," Mr. Weasley provided. "As the twins said, when you arrived you were barely breathing. Madame Pomphrey was floo called and she informed us of your injuries. You had a broken left arm and a broken right leg, along with a broken collar bone. They should be healed now. You had several cracked ribs and a punctured left lung, you had internal bleeding and your spleen was ruptured."

Hermione stared in horror and disbelief.

"How?"

"We're not entirely sure. From the diagnostic spells only minor uses of magic were used, simply a Stunning Charm and a Binding Spell. We believe that everything else was caused the muggle way."

Hermione frowned. "Why would someone not use magic to hurt me?"

"That's a good question. Firstly, your duelling and magical capabilities surpass anyone far older than yourself; it would be foolish to go up against you using magical methods. Secondly, not using magic makes this attack seem more personal, the injuries inflicted upon you were meant to cause you pain and shock the rest of us. Using muggle methods is far more brutal. Thirdly, we believe that beater's bats were used."

"Beater's bats?"

"You have several bruises; the shapes match that of a beater's bat."

"Bruises?"

A mirror was summoned and she looked at herself and gasped in horror. Her entire left cheek was covered in yellow-green bruises, her arms had bruises in the shape of hand prints, she looked at her stomach to see several large bruises that did look to be in the shape of a beater's bat and she had several bruises and scrapes on her legs.

"We have some paste that'll clear those bruises up for you in a day or two," George offered.

"We would've given it to you sooner except we weren't sure if you were allergic to anything," Fred said.

"Yeah, it wouldn't be good to give you something to help you, only to accidentally kill you from anaphylactic shock," George grinned.

"Thank you, I'm not allergic to anything."

"In that case," Fred pulled out a white tub from his robe pocket and put it on the bed side table. "The pain will fade immediately but the bruises will take a good two to three days to heal, your bruises are quite nasty deep tissue bruises, we haven't seen anything like them since that Quidditch match our fourth year."

George winced. "That must've hurt."

"I'd say so, Wood was unconscious for two days," Fred rolled his eyes at his twin and Hermione gave a small laugh.

"Do we know who did this to me?"

"No, but we don't have a single doubt it was Death Eaters, there were multiple attackers, the extent of your injuries couldn't be caused by only one person," Mr. Weasley spoke. "We have The Order looking for leads as we speak."

"Clear the room, Merlin, Miss. Granger, keep going this way and you'll have your own section in the hospital wing."

"It's nice to see you too, Madame Pomphrey," Hermione replied.

"You children are going to send me to an early grave," she muttered and Hermione chuckled. "Didn't I say for you to clear the room?" Madame Pomphrey glared at everyone and the room was quickly vacated.

Two weeks past of bed rest. Her injuries healed nicely, but Madam Pomphrey didn't allow Hermione to leave her room until two weeks later.

In those two weeks she had weird dreams every night. A woman with long blonde hair and grass green eyes. In her dreams she knew this woman; she spoke to her, whispered things, stories about how she was her mother, her real mother. About who her biological father was. But Hermione knew they were just dreams, her biological parents were Jean and Richard Granger. Not this flawless, beautiful woman she saw every night in her slumber.

Each night a small amount of doubt started niggling at her. Like a small part of her believed the dream woman's words to be true. Each night it grew. Until one night she couldn't sleep and she decided to head down to the library to find a good book to calm her.

As she walked down the stairs she heard whispering, hisses. She stopped, shook her head and then continued walking. She heard it again. She frowned and decided to follow the sound of the hissing. It brought her to a door that opened up to a small cupboard.

The cupboard had dirty blankets littering the floor, many odd trinkets and broken items, but what caught her attention was the silver locket hanging from a hook on the wall.

She reached out and removed it, holding it in her hands. It was a locket with an engraving of two snakes entwined with a large 'S' on either side. She ran her hand over the locket and her finger tips tingled. It was whispering to her, she didn't know what possessed her to take the locket, but she did.

She slipped it on over her head and it rested in the valley of her breasts. With her previous destination forgotten she headed back to her room and fell asleep, having one more dream that would change the course of her future forever.

Malfoy Manor

"Why did you come here, Miss. Granger?" Voldemort asked in a voice that sounded far more charming than she expected it to. "I have heard many things regarding your intelligence." His eyes flickered over to Draco Malfoy, who stood beside his mother. He refused to look at her, though he didn't look to be in much better condition than herself, to be honest.

"For someone so bright, you did a tremendously stupid thing in coming here this night."

"I had to talk to you," she rasped, her throat sore from the screams that been pulled from her. He raised a nonexistent eyebrow. "I have something important to discuss with you."

"Is that so? And what could you, a Mudblood, wish to discuss with me?"

"I'm not a Muggleborn," she muttered, but he heard her.

"Your parents are Muggles are they not?"

"I thought they were, I've recently discovered that I was adopted. My mother was a witch and my father a wizard, I don't know his blood status; at the very least I'm a Half-blood," she said, her voice shaky from all the screaming.

"No matter," he waved his hand. "What is it you wish to discuss with me?"

"I suggest you cast a Silencing Charm, you're not going to want others hearing what I have to tell you."

He looked at her with a bored expression, but simply flicked his wand and she felt a tingle wash over her.

"It is done, now speak."

"Well..." she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, when she did her locket slipped out from underneath her clothing, coming into full view of Voldemort.

His eyes widened before a look of pure fury overtook him. Before she even saw it coming he was up from his throne, pulling her up from the ground and gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Where did you get that locket?" he hissed in her face, his grip on her shoulders tightening and sure to leave bruises.

"It's mine," she replied, her voice shook.

"No, it's not, it's mine, where did you get it?"

"No, I swear it's mine, it told me," she said fearfully, he brutally dropped her back to the floor and headed to his throne, as fell in a pile of aching limbs on the marble ground.

He made a series of hisses and the doors slammed open, a large snake bigger than anything Hermione had ever seen slithered into the room. A few more hisses from Voldemort and the snake slowly made its way towards Hermione. She looked around in a panic to see everyone staring at her with evil smiles on their faces; it was obvious that no one was going to help her. Despite the Silencing Charm around them, it was clear to the Death Eaters that she had said something that their feared Master didn't like.

The snake lunged for her and she panicked. Just before the snake could give her the fatal bite, she opened her mouth to scream, but rather than a scream, a series of hisses left her. The snake immediately backed away from her, retreating and stopping at the side of Voldemort's throne.

The Death Eaters were watching in confusion; why would their Master stop his pet from killing the girl?

Voldemort, however, was looking at Hermione in complete disbelief; he gripped the arm rests on his throne, feeling his fingernails biting into the wood, proving it wasn't a dream. The girl had just spoken Parseltongue!

He immediately shot out of his seat and stalked towards her. Uncharacteristically, he squatted down in front of her, much to the surprise of everyone; their Master had never so much as nodded in greeting to them, let alone gotten onto his knees.

He put his hand under her chin and forced her to look at him, tears were flowing down her face, but that didn't faze him; he wouldn't be The Dark Lord if tears made him merciful.

"Who are you? How did you get my locket? Why can you speak Parseltongue?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you before you sent that thing you call a pet to kill me," she sniffled and she looked into his eyes. "The locket told me it was mine, it spoke to me, I can hear it now, whispering, hissing." He watched her for any tells of lying, but he could see none.

"Let me see it," he ordered. She moved her hands to her locket, slipped it over her head and handed it to him. He looked it over, scrutinising it, looking for anything that would prove it wasn't his locket, the locket he had encased part of his soul into decades ago. But it was.

"This is my locket."

"Maybe it was once before, but now it's mine."

She reached up to touch it. When she did he felt a tingle go through the locket and it went straight through him, making him shiver. It felt as though it were pulling at his magic, nudging at the very core of his power.

"When I touch it my magic tingles. I feel free...powerful...understood. It speaks to me, I feel calm, I feel like I'm home," she spoke quietly. She then pulled her hand away. "I wasn't entirely sure I could speak Parseltongue, I just thought it was a dream, that I was imagining things," she frowned. "But I remember my second year, the time of the basilisk attacks, I could sometimes hear hissing coming from the pipes."

"I will ask you one last time, who are you?"

"Do you even have to ask?" she asked softly. "Look at me, really look at me."

He did. He looked at her face. She had porcelain skin, almost flawless if it wasn't for the small scar on her right temple. When she had been brought to him, her mahogany hair fell down to the middle of her back in sleek curls, but they were now stuck to her neck with sweat after her torture session. Her thin pink lips were pulled into a straight line and he didn't doubt she had a perfect white smile. She was petite but not at the same time, her confidence, intelligence and magical capability more than made up for her five-foot-six small frame, making her seem bigger than she actually was. Even he had to admit she was rather pretty, but what had him mesmerised were her eyes. Her deep, dark chocolate brown eyes, he had seen those eyes before, staring back at him in the mirror all those years ago, when he, himself, was a teenager.

He pulled back from her, stood up and cancelled the Silencing Charm. When he did he heard murmurs and whispers, his followers were obviously very confused with his strange behaviour.

"Leave now," he ordered in a dark tone.

Without hesitation they all turned and fled out of the ballroom, but making sure to stay close by in case they were called.

The doors shut and he flicked his wand again, casting another Silencing Charm to give them privacy.

"You have similar traits as I when I was a teenager," he commented nonchalantly.

"If that's your way of admitting that I look like you, then yes, I agree."

He eyed her carefully. "You mentioned that you were adopted, your mother and father both magical?"

She nodded. "I didn't know I was adopted, no one ever told me. I've recently been having strange dreams. Dreams in which a woman was claiming to be my biological mother, and she explained that she met my biological father on a trip to Albania." His eyes widened a fraction, but he otherwise remained unfazed. "She showed me what he looked like; of course I just thought it was a figment of my imagination. That was until one night I couldn't sleep and I decided to go to the library and retrieve a book. I heard whispers and followed them; they lead me to the locket. I headed back to bed and had another dream, this time I was given a name. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

His eyes widened further.

"I had heard this name before, but I wasn't sure where and so I asked Dumbledore. He stared at me in horror, as if just realising something. He looked like he wanted to murder me, before he left the room. He refuses to speak to me, to even look at me, as if I'm an abomination. I found an old Hogwarts year book in the library and I found the name and saw the photo that was attached, and I wasn't blind to the fact we shared certain characteristics. That coupled with the locket and the apparent Parseltongue had me worried, worried that my dreams weren't actually dreams, but the truth. The truth that Tom Marvolo Riddle is my birth father."

"How old are you?"

"I will be seventeen in September," she answered. "Eighteen if you count the use of a timer turner for an entire school year."

He looked intrigued by her words, but didn't ask her to elaborate further.

"I do not have any children."

"What about the trip to Albania? This woman in my dream told me all about it, about you."

"Describer her appearance to me. Did she divulge a name?" he asked her quickly.

"Blonde hair, pale skin and green eyes with high cheek bones. She said her name was Clarissa."

"She would've told me."

"So it's true? I'm not just losing my mind? Besides, she told me she tried to find you, she tried to contact you, but the owls she sent always returned with the letters unopened. In the end she travelled to Britain because that's where she knew you resided. She was seven months pregnant when she came here. She spent a month trying to track you down but failed. A month later she went into labour, there were some complications and she died, I was put up for adoption in the Muggle World, apparently it was safer in the Muggle World in 1979."

"It's not possible."

"We could cast a Lineage Detecting Charm, with your magical knowledge and capabilities, I don't doubt you know one, or have access to a book that contains one."

He watched her carefully, before slowly raising his wand and waving it in a complicated motion and muttering something under his breath.

There was an orange glow before it disappeared and he stared at her in disbelief, and she mimicked his actions.

"They match, you're my biological father and, I, your daughter," she whispered and he just stared at her.

A few minutes of uncomfortable silence and Hermione was getting nervous.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked quietly.

His eyes shot up to her. "No."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"You're not?"

"No, it appears you are my daughter, the only living family I have left, my heir as it would seem."

"The Heir of Slytherin?" she asked with a small smirk.

He matched her smirk with a bigger one. "It would appear so."

"I did say the locket belonged to me."

"It would appear so," he replied.

"Is that going to be your answer from now on?"

"It would appear so."

Hermione gave a small laugh.

"I have to get back, they'll be wondering where I am."

He frowned. "You did not say where you found the locket."

"That's because I can't. The residence that I'm staying in is under the Fidelius, I'm not the Secret Keeper, and therefore I cannot reveal the location."

"Who is the Secret Keeper?"

"I'm not sure, but an educated guess would be Dumbledore."

"We need to talk about your involvement in this war."

"We will, I promise, but I have to get back as soon as I can." He frowned again. "I forgive you."

"Excuse me?"

"I forgive you for the last six years, for all the death attempts on my life. I forgive you for everything you have done, well except for all the murder, but still," she said softly. "May I have my locket back?" she asked him.

He looked down at the locket held in his hand and then back up to her hopeful expression. It was a part of his soul, but she had said that it had spoken to her. It seemed it would be safer with her than it would be locked away in a cave surrounded by Inferi and all the other protective wards he enclosed it with. Someone had obviously found it and luckily she had come across it before it was destroyed.

He stepped forward, placing the locket over her head and she tucked it back into her jumper.

"What am I? Half-blood or Pureblood?"

"Pureblood," he answered, his red eyes daring her to argue, she merely nodded. "You were limping." He said, changing the subject completely.

"Sorry?"

"When you were escorted into the room, you were limping."

"I still haven't fully healed from the attack," she shrugged.

"Attack? What attack?" he asked quickly.

She frowned in confusion. "A couple of weeks ago I was attacked in Diagon Alley. Apparently it was by multiple attackers and they decided they would use beater's bats instead of magic. I can't remember what happened, just that I had bought a book and was heading to The Leaky Cauldron, then everything went black. I haven't remembered anything yet."

"Injuries?" he ground out.

She found it odd he was asking these questions; she had been tortured in front of him, under his orders, not even thirty minutes prior. And he was the one that ordered the attack, right?

"Mr. Weasley said that I had a broken right leg, a broken left arm and a broken collar bone. I had several cracked ribs and a punctured lung, with internal bleeding and a ruptured spleen. I also had many deep tissue bruises covering my face, arms, stomach and legs. When Fred and George Weasley found me I was in Knockturn Alley and barely breathing, they saved my life."

He looked furious, more so than when he discovered she had the locket.

"Who did it?"

"We don't know, we just know that my injuries were caused by multiple attackers. The Order were working on leads, but they dropped the case after a week, claiming they had more important things to deal with. They are certain of one thing though, it was Death Eaters."

"I did not give orders for your attack."

"They're adamant it was Death Eaters, who else would hate me so much that they would attack me in such a violent manner? Besides, I'm sure your followers do things all the time without your orders or backing," she shrugged.

He turned around and moved to sit in his throne. He motioned for her to stand next to him and she did so, nervously.

"We are not informing anyone of our new found relationship as of yet, soon enough, but not yet," he informed her and she nodded slowly.

He flicked his wand and within moments the large ballroom began to fill with figures, some wearing dark robes and masks, others not. The members of the inner circle were at the front of the crowd, along with The Lestranges and Malfoys. The Lestranges were sneering at her and Draco Malfoy was watching her with tired eyes. She avoided eye contact with anyone.

"It has come to my attention that Miss. Granger has recently been assaulted by multiple attackers. Her friends seem to believe that some of you are involved." Murmurs broke out. "I wish to know if it is true," he looked around the room to see people shuffling their feet nervously or refusing eye contact. "I assure you, if any of you are involved and you do not come forward, the punishment will be far greater." No one moved. "Hmm," he hummed.

"Miss. Granger is under my protection." Every single pair of eyes shot up to her in shock and disbelief. "She is not to be harmed, if she as so much as gets a scratch, the punishment will be severe." He turned his head towards Hermione. "Go, My Child, for we will speak soon." She nodded and gave a little curtsey and his mouth twitched.

She walked down the steps that lead to the throne and made her way to the door. The crowd of Death Eaters parted for her and she walked down the middle, keeping her head down.

"Mudblood whore," she heard a whispered sneer.

Suddenly there was a "Crucio" and a blood curdling scream. She whipped around to see a robed figure thrashing around on the floor before it stopped. She looked up to see Voldemort standing and his wand held tightly in his hand.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to mention that also includes hurtful language," he said lightly.

He looked up at Hermione who had gone pale. He was her father, The Dark Lord! He had Crucioed someone for two hurtful words sent her way.

"Hurry along, My Child, we wouldn't want anyone getting suspicious." She nodded and barely restrained herself from running out of the room.

12 Grimmauld Place

"Hermione, where in the name of Circe have you been? You've been gone hours," Ginny asked as she entered the house.

Hermione shrugged. "I wanted some fresh air and went for a walk."

"You're not supposed to leave the house, or have you forgotten what happened?"

"How could I forget when The Order gave up after only a week? I needed some fresh air."

"You are forbidden from leaving the house."

"You're not my mother, I can do as I please," she snapped, before walking up the stairs, leaving behind a shocked Ginny. Maybe her father was wearing off on her already.

Her father.

The Dark Lord.

Shit!

What had she gotten herself into?