Chapter One: Attack.
In a dark room, below ground level, a tall, hooded and cloaked man stood in front of a desk. Before this man, Lucius Malfoy bowed, a gesture of great respect. On the desk, there was a map of England.
By now, you may have realized that the man the high-and-mighty Lucius Malfoy bowed before… was Lord Voldemort. Voldemort and Lucius had a plot afoot. An evil plot. Concerning a certain Muggleborn Gryffindor in her sixth year at Hogwarts…
"Enlarge. Enlarge. Enlarge." Voldemort jabbed at the map with his wand, zooming in on a spot until it showed little squares – houses. The houses all had crosses through them. Green crosses, green crosses with a red dot in the centre where they joined, black crosses and red crosses. Each symbolised something. Green symbolised Muggles, green with a red dot represented Mudbloods and their families, and red was wizarding families. Black crosses were houses that had been attacked already.
"This house, Lucius. Tonight." He put a finger on a house with a green cross and a red dot.
"Forgive me, my Lord, but… whose house are we to attack?" Lucius straightened, gazing down in respect.
"We are trying to hurt Harry Potter, are we not, Lucius? Therefore, we must attack the thing most precious to him. Not the Weasleys, not yet. But his girlfriend, the Mudblood, Hermione Granger. Come, Lucius. We have much to organize."
"Alohomora." Voldemort opened the Granger's front door without a trouble. "Muggles." He muttered in disgust. "Lucius, you are to supervise the deaths of the Muggles. Take the younger two… Crabbe and Goyle. Let them… play with the Muggles first, but be sure there are silencing wards up."
"And the Mudblood, my Lord?"
Voldemort grinned evilly. "Leave her to me."
A man, hooded and cloaked, eased open Hermione's bedroom door.
Her room was fairly big, decorated in royal purple and a nearly red pink. In one corner there was a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. Another was the desk, another the bed and one wall contained books, books, and more books.
On the bed, under a thick purple doona (purple one side, reddish-pink underneath) a petite brunette lay, her head resting on one reddish-pink pillow.
Her hair, which had smoothed into silky waves, lay in a halo around her head. Her face was heart-shaped, her lips cherry-red, her skin, a very light tan.
Eyelashes fluttered as Hermione woke up. She stretched, and upon seeing the cloaked man, a smile lit her face.
"Harry!" She whispered joyously. "Oh, Harry, I wasn't expecting you for another week or so!" Hermione rolled out of bed and embraced the surprised man, capturing his lips in a fiery, passionate kiss.
Her lips tasted of strawberries, his of an odd, smoky chocolate flavour.
How odd. Hermione thought. Has he been smoking? That's all she had time to think as passion overtook her.
He kissed her sweetly on the mouth, his kisses growing more fervent down her neck.
Hermione gasped as he hit her 'sweet' spot. Her small hands clung to his shoulders, her arms around his neck. As his lips returned to hers, his hands slipped around her waist.
The door flung open. Hermione spun around, pulling the man behind her. Another cloaked, hooded and evilly masked man stood in the door.
"Harry, run! It's Voldemort, he's here to kill you, run!" Hermione cried.
The man behind her didn't move, and the other man gaped at her. Hermione felt two fingers tap her shoulder, and she turned to face him, alarmed.
He pulled back his hood, revealing red eyes with cat pupils, very white skin and snake-like slit nostrils.
Hermione felt like vomiting. Her eyes rolled back and everything was black.
"Shall I finish her off, my Lord?" Lucius, who stood in the doorway, bowed respectfully, raising his wand.
"No!" Voldemort flicked his wand at Lucius. Lucius's wand flew into the air, landing on the ground two metres to the Death Eater's left. "Lucius, you often say that your family can be traced back to the time of Merlin, correct?" Lucius nodded mutely. "When she kissed me, I tasted power. Raw, untrained, unfound, pure power. Your family goes back to Merlin, but the blood that pumps in her veins can be tracked to Merlin himself."
"My Lord?"
"Lucius, we've found the last descendant of Merlin." Voldemort looked down at the unconscious brunette. "I daresay that by tomorrow morning she'll no longer look like this… assuming, of course, the Muggles are dead?"
"Yes, my Lord, of course, my Lord."
"Good. She is not to be harmed. She will be coming with me. She will be your Queen. A Dark Lady for a Dark Lord."
"My Lord?"
"Yes, Lucius?"
"Permission to suggest?"
"Granted."
"Maybe… she might take more kindly to you, my Lord… if she did not remember?"
Voldemort fingered his chin. "Very good idea, Lucius."
"Also, my Lord? Perhaps if you made a copy of her chambers and kept her possessions, she might, uh, behave better?"
"Yes, yes, do what ever you think necessary."
"Yes, my Lord." Lucius bowed.
"And, Lucius?"
Lucius straightened from the bow.
Jealousy burned in Voldemort's red eyes as he replaced his hood. "We must make sure that Harry Potter does not see the dawn of his eighteenth birthday."