Summary: AU Hermione had suppressed the memories of her other self for 9 years. But now, her memories are coming back with a vengeance and without her past, there will be no future. Maybe she'll also find out the identity of the mysterious boy that haunts her dreams…
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Prolougue
Click. It was a nice suburban house, with sky blue weatherboards and a brown tiled roof.
Click. Flowers were planted around the perimeter of the property, though the actual lawn was empty save a lone shrub on the right side of the front of the house.
Holding the camera, he crept out from behind the oak tree across from their house and walked across the street carelessly, knowing that no mortal eyes could see him. The pitter-patter of his feet was the only sound in the desolate street, but the unobservant occupants of the houses would never think to look outside to investigate the noise, even if it wasn't two in the morning.
Click. The left side of their house held one window. The curtains were drawn tightly, and like every other window in the neighbourhood, it betrayed no indication whether the inhabitants were awake or asleep. As he walked towards the back garden, his ears picked up a sound from inside, heading towards the back door. He shrunk into the shadows, slinking against the fence, feet gracefully avoiding the flowers planted into the soft soil. Flipping over the back fence and into the branches of a pine tree in the forest behind their property, he took out the camera from within the folds of his black ninja style uniform, which was marked with a red 'Z' encircled over the left breast. He held the camera up, and positioned the red cross on the middle of the back door, waiting.
The rear doorknob clicked hesitantly, and the door opened a fraction, enough for the small girl of seven years to slip through. Click. She was of below average height for her age, with dark hair, and was dressed in black pants and over robe. Slung over one shoulder was a heavy bag, definitely more weight than a girl of her age should be carrying.
Click. Click. Click. She looked to and fro, rampant curls escaping her ponytail and cascading around her face with every movement. Click. Apparently satisfied that there was no one around, she stepped fully out of the door and closed the door gently behind her. Click. Her bare feet tread across the lush grass and brought her to the gate, mere metres away from the tree he crouched in, camera following her every move.
Click. The clinking of the gate as she struggled to undo the pesky clasp seemed louder than it should. Click. The wooden gate swung open, hinges creaking as it admitted its lone guest. She stood directly under the tree as she closed the gate softly, and then began rummaging through her bag. He dared not take any more photographs; though the gentle clicking of the camera was masked by several concealing spells, it wasn't completely inaudible. He swore in his head. Such a high tech camera and the producers didn't think to make it silent. Of course, he thought with a smile, the camera's purpose wasn't for stakeouts of potential threats. Stroking his thin moustache, he observed her actions, her head bent down, and hair obscuring the opening of the bag. She tossed her loose hair suddenly, and a glint of silver from inside her bag caught his eye.
With a flourish she closed her bag, swung it on her shoulder and moved on. The camera clicked furiously after her as she walked through the forest, weaving between the trees with ease. It was apparent that she had taken this route before. When he was sure that she was out of earshot, he dropped down from the tree, camera still clutched in one hand. He set off after her, always keeping her in sight, using the zoom function of his camera.
Click. Click. She had started running, fallen autumn leaves and twigs crunching under her feet. Gritting his teeth, he mentally prepared himself for the chase. He checked his watch, which marked him as a pulsing green dot nearing a green circle, and the girl as another green dot, closer to the circumference of the circle. Almost stumbling, he realised that she was indeed, one of them, and once she entered the circle he would have lost his target, and months of meticulous plotting and photographing would have gone to waste. Increasing speed suddenly, his feet flew across he ground, displacing the forest floor.
Metres away from the target, his palms tingled, a sure sign that the sensors surrounding their fortress had detected him. Damn. That meant less time for him to apprehend the target. The girl was sprinting now; the same signal that had detected him had probably just informed her of his presence. He threw his camera high up the in air, an eagle swooping to catch its strap within its clawed feet. With a loud caw, the eagle flew off to the safety of their headquarters, protected much like the fortress that was less than one hundred metres in front of him.
The girl was within his grasp, he could hear her quiet breathing in the eerie silent of the forest. Animals always knew when to stay away. He saw his opening as the left strap on her bag slipped slightly. Lunging forward, his hand grabbed the narrow strap in a vice grip and pulled it back sharply, the momentum causing the girl to lose her balance and fall backwards, the bottom of the bag's strap cutting into her armpits. She raised her arms and slipped free of the bag, with the intention of running to her freedom. However, she did not anticipate the she would fall ungracefully on her backside, as there was nothing to support her anymore. He swung the bag forcefully, making her head snap to the side as the heavy books collided.
Despite the dull throb and uncoordination that usually followed a blow to the head, she pushed herself off the ground and onto her feet, only to fall flat on her face as that wretched bag contacted with her skull again. Lying with her hands above her head, the two massive bumps pounded her brain and slowed her usually incessant train of thought, leaving her only able to take ragged breaths of the chilly early morning air. The sharp smell of damp dirt and crushed leaves perforated her senses and she slowly became aware of a crushing weight pinning down her arms and legs. Her hands curled around some of the maple leaves littering the ground, nails digging into the dirt as she vainly tried to formulate a plan of escape.
He was not a big man, of average height and build for a typical twenty nine year old. Rather on the scrawny side actually. However, his uniform hid his muscles, though not bulging out like that of a macho, macho man, impressive nonetheless. Had his pint sized captive been, at most, twice her current age, she would have most definitely had the upper hand, instead of being forced down on the ground, her elbows held down by his large hands and the rest of her body squashed as well, as he was sitting on her thighs, knees bent in, squeezing her ribcage tightly.
She was the brightest student to be trained in the fortress, already on her second to last year of magical studies, though she would have been finishing this year at the rate she was going. Athletically, she could defend herself from every type of your ordinary run of the mill baddies, though her current opponent was anything but normal. Flips, twists and turns that would take months for the best gymnasts to perfect came to her like instinct. The loss of such a brilliant young thing was detrimental to their side.
He dragged her right arm to her side by the elbow and crushed it between his knee and the side of her ribcage. That left him with a free arm. Grabbing her mess of hair, he yanked her head back, causing a shriek of pain, and turned it around to face him. What little moonlight there was could not penetrate the thick forest canopy, so neither could make out the other's features. He wasn't worried about this; he had enough photos of her to map every freckle on her face. She, however, scoured his face with frenzy, looking for that unique scar or mole that would mark him.
"How is the fortress protected?" he asked gruffly, using Occlumency.
She sneered silently. She had experienced more forceful brain probes from three month old babies. Her contempt must have been felt by him, as he promptly slapped her across the face, her neck twisting awkwardly with the action.
There. The collar of his clothing shifted slightly, coinciding with a sudden burst of weak moonlight. But it was enough for her to see a scar, running down his left collarbone, descending into the darkness below the open neckline.
He slapped her again, a second red handprint appearing on her right cheek. She wondered, smiling at her brief victory, if he did it out of fear, for she saw his eyes widen as he registered that she had noticed the healed gash.
"How is the fortress protected?" he asked again.
Her incompliance was rewarded with another painful sting to her cheek. She could feel his anger rising, starting to cloud his judgement. Her time to escape would come soon.
The same question came again, irritation creeping into his voice. She stared at him blankly, knowing that it annoyed him so. Slap. Across the other cheek this time, the force pushing her face into the hard ground, her lip splitting in the process. She lifted her head, spitting out dirt, leaves and blood. A rough hand seized her chin and turned her back to original position, nails digging into her skin.
"You tell me how the fortress is protected, girly, and I might spare your life," he barked, so focused on getting an answer out of her that he subconsciously loosened his grip on her other arm. Next thing he knew, pain exploded in the middle of his face, and he was pushed to the side. Roaring with anger, he reached out towards her, clutching his bloody nose with the other hand. Her flight was stilted as her left ankle flew into his outstretched hand. He dangled her in midair, waiting for the red to subside from his vision. Acting in anger never did him any good.
She squirmed and wriggled uselessly, trying to use her fists and foot to cause him some type of pain. He avoided her kicks and blows with ease, apparently deep in thought. Then, without warning he flung her out to the side, hitting a tree trunk. She fell to the ground, curled into a foetal position, winded and helpless. To make matters worse, the roots of the tree were digging into her back, causing her even more discomfort. Thick smooth cords wrapped around her body, restricting what little breath she had. Eyelids fluttering, she groggily focused on the cords wrapping her head to toe, arms flexing to test their strength. A gasp escaped her lips as she was suddenly in midair again, scalp burning as he held her up by her thick hair.
This time he was much more careful. She was stronger than any of them had expected.
Again he laid her face down, pinning her down. In one quick action, he freed her left arm, arranged it in a new position and bound it again.
She cursed herself for not paying closer attention.
"How is the fortress protected?" he asked once more, a satisfied smirk on his face. He was holding her forearm and hand.
Too stubborn to answer, she wondered if it was worth her time to explain to him that there was more than one charm on the fortress and to describe them all would take at least a week, and someone with his mental capabilities would never understand. Not that she would tell him.
"Alright, I'll take your silence as a no," he laughed, cold and merciless. Without warning he bent her index finger back, chuckling even more when the snap rang out in the soundless forest.
She bit her lip, determined not give him the upper hand by crying like a little girl, even though that was exactly what she was. Remember the breathing techniques taught to her by her masters, she retreated into a state of semi-consciousness, where the pain could not be felt.
With a mocking tone in his voice, again he asked, "How is the fortress protected?"
Again she remained mute.
This torture went on with neither budging. He moved onto her right hand.
She did not open her lips once, even as she felt two, or maybe more, of her ribs crack from his weight.
The pain was unbearable, and though she would never betray her kind, she feared that he would take advantage of her weakened state to force the answers out of her by Occlumency. There was only one thing she could do.
She starting breathing in rhythm, the same rhythm that trees breathe through winter. In. One. Two. Three. Four. Out. One. Two. In. One. Two. Out. One.
Retreating within her mind, she found her special place. She had activated it back when she was at the tree, for she had forseen danger. Now, she crawled into it, fitting snugly. She pulled in all her memories of their resistance with her, all the spells, people and plans. Her eyes glazed over and all her bodily functions slowed, to the point where it seemed like she was dead. Hoping that he would believe that and then leave, she started closing the clasp, shutting it off from the rest of her thoughts. She would remember in time.
The small silver locket, in which she had fled, was strewn on the ground when her bag was dropped. It disappeared.
He stalked away angrily. Before he disapparated, he gathered up her things. Maybe they could learn something from them.
As she lay bruised and battered, her old self took time to leave just one memory. Of the boy with sunshine hair and mercury eyes, the only one that could help. Her last though, before her conscious slipped away, was that today was her birthday. Born at two pm, on March 29th.
She was already eight years old when one of the search parties found her.
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A/N You like? You no like? Review anyways, I get discouraged if I don't get review. Now I'm not threatening you, just saying that I would like it if you reviewed. Now. :)