Ship: Severus Snape and Hermione Granger
A/n: If you don't like dramatic SS/HG fics, do not cross the lines below . . . ~_^
Summary: Hermione learns the truth about her bloodlines. Harry and Ron reject her for her heritage. She turns to her father and the Dark Side. Can anyone bring her back, even a man who also needs to sort out his life? [SSHG]
::~/\~::
A Heart of Stone
Chapter 1
Blood's True Colours
::~/\~::
Once I had a heart of stone
For it had surely lost its home
It could not love or wanted too
But in my life, then came you . . .
::~/\~::
Hermione Granger sat on her bed looking at a picture of her friends and her in their first year. They had been so oblivious to the fact of the impending fate encircling them for an eternity. They were so carefree back then. Now they were fully aware of the danger and were at risk of it striking every day. Their lives were filled with fear and longing for happier days. It was almost the beginning of their seventh year of school together. Harry, Ron, and Hermione's friendship lasted through thick and thin. Little did they know that the doom of their 'everlasting' relationship was looming over them ominously like a vulture waiting for a kill.
She brought her thoughts back to her packing. Tomorrow was the day that she left for her last year. She packed everything she needed including the hundred some books she got for Chanukah and Christmas. Some of them were books beyond her years in study. Most of them landed in the category of Transfiguration and Potions, the subjects she enjoyed the most. They included Moste Potente Potions, Animaguses: Bring Out the Animal Within, Advanced Copy, One Thousand and One Most Powerful Ingredients for Very Advanced Potions, and Transformation the Sister Subject of Transfiguration. There were so many books in the world to read with so many long titles. She stuffed the moving picture of her first year into her trunk. She moved over onto her bed and collapsed.
She was going to be Head Girl along with Draco Malfoy as Head Boy. It was going to be a very, very long year, she thought wearily. Her eyes began to droop. Her arms were splayed out on her bed. She was about to fall asleep. The peaceful silence around her that she loved was interrupted to her disappointment.
A small knock came from the doorway. The person rapped three more times upon the door. It was clearly her mother's signature knock that she had made just for Hermione. It usually meant that she had something important to say. She slowly got up and moved towards the door. She reached out one hand to the handle. It was cold. She shivered slightly as she turned the doorknob. The door creaked as it slid open. Her mother was standing behind it with a look of urgency on her face. She shuffled into Hermione's room and sat upon the canopy bed. There was something really important she had to say to Hermione.
"Please sit down dear," her mother said too quickly for what she had to say to be good. Hermione obediently sat beside the black haired woman.
"Yes, mama?" Hermione asked wanting to know what her mother had to say. Her eyes twinkled with happiness despite the fact that she knew the news was bad.
"There is something that I have to tell you, angle cakes," her mother replied. It was definitely not good news. Hopefully it wasn't too bad or life altering.
"Please, by all means, continue, mama." Her mother swallowed harshly and put a comforting arm around her daughter.
"This is about your father," she said hoarsely; Hermione nodded, "I am a, well, was a witch." Hermione's eyes widened. Her eyebrows disappeared into a bushy brown mass she called hair. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mother held a hand up. She was silenced immediately.
"I stopped wanting to be a witch when I met your father. I only preformed one spell afterwards. I was the top of my class as of the exception of Lily Evans. I met your father and my world went upside down. I'm sorry I've never told you this before, child, but I thought it would be better until you were old enough to understand. I came from the noble pureblood family of, Destiny. All of my blood kin had passed away. All my friends too, so I had no world in the Wizarding world." Hermione opened and closed her mouth in surprise. All Draco Malfoy said about her being a 'mudblood' was wrong. This is where she got her magical abilities. Her mother had gone to school with Harry's mother! All this information at once overwhelmed her. Wow, was all she could think.
"Really? W-wow. What does this have to do with dad though?" She asked in confusion. Her mother looked directly into her eyes. Her mother's eyes were full of sympathy and exhaustion. They were a dark brown colour that seemed to draw you in through magic. She shook her head slightly.
"No, not your Papa." Hermione looked at her puzzled. She didn't have two fathers, that wasn't humanly possible, even in the Wizarding world.
"But Papa is my father. Right? I'm so confused, mother," she said looking into her mother's eyes. A ghost of a smile appeared on her mother's face. Hermione's brows furrowed in thought.
"There is something else that I have to tell you about your father. Biological, that is. I'm not sure if you're old enough. I don't want to hurt you with the truth," she said in a very motherly fashion. Hermione rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Her mother ran her fingers over Hermione's hair. Hermione sat there pondering for a small moment.
"I think I'm ready, mama," she whispered into her mother's ear. Her mother kissed the top of her head affectionately.
"Where to start from . . . hmmm. Ah yes. I met your father a while before, about two years. I was going steady with him when I was . . . well . . . chosen. I was chosen to mother the child of a powerful man. I will leave your imagination to the rest of that part of the story. I didn't want to let your father know so I made it appear as if it was his child. I had to plan everything perfectly. Right up to the day that he and I would die. I had to make you look like him. That was when I preformed my last spell. A Concealment Charm. I didn't and I still don't want them to come for you. I don't have my wand so I can not take it off. You will have to do that if you want to." Hermione could tell her mother was trying to keep one fact from her, 'Who her father was'. They sat there for a few minutes until Hermione's mother moved to get up. When she was walking to the door Hermione grabbed her mother's wrist. Her mother turned to look at her daughter.
"Wait mother," Hermione said urgently.
"Yes, dear?"
"Who was my father?" Her mother looked as though she was suffering from an internal battle. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she said rather disappointedly.
"No, I'll tell you. You have the right to know. You won't like the answer I'm going to give you though," she said sitting back down on the bed by her restless daughter.
"Who?" She asked impatiently, rocking back.
"Thomas, was his first name," Hermione nodded, her eyes filled up with tears after she remembered her father wasn't her biological father. Her mother continued, "He was a wizard also. His middle name was . . . hmmm . . . let me remember," There was an awkward silence as Hermione stared at her musing mother. " . . . Marvalo. Last was Riddle. Yes Thomas Marvalo Riddle. Usually called Tom. He wanted for you to be called Destiny, I do not know why though."
Destiny? Hermione gawked at her mother. Then the puzzle pieces fell into place, "V-Vol-Voldemort is my father?" she asked. Dry sobs racked her body. What would her friends think of her now that her father was a dark lord that tried to kill Harry's parents and him? Her mother's arms wrapped around her, rocking her back and forth gently say soft words of comfort. She slowly closed her eyes welcoming the succumbing darkness with open arms.
::~/\~::
Hermione awoke to the peaceful chirping of birds. All her thoughts had seemed to drift off in her sleep. The air smelt of salty tears. Her eyes stung dully from the salt that had creeped into her eyes along with the tears that she had shed. She got up from her bed. She stepped down tenderly and walked to her window. She pulled the cord of her shade letting the sunlight fill her room. A call from her mother told her that she had to get ready. After taking a quick shower and getting dressed she ran down the stairs.
She quickly ate breakfast wanting to go as soon as possible. She rushed back and forth from the upstairs to the downstairs. All of her stuff was packed up in a small muggle car. She fell onto her couch in the living room. It was an old velvety couch. Her body shivered slightly from recalling last night's events. Her trembling grew. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly hoping that what was about to happen didn't. She couldn't help it.
The dam broke.
Tears streamed down her face in a mad torrent. Her body shook with great tremors. The soft blue velvet material below her was soaked in a salty rush of tears. Her tears ran dry after about ten minutes, which seemed more like a decade to her. One last tear fell slowly. It shown in the sunlight from a window. She blinked once and it fell upon the floor making a little wet circle. Why him of all people to be her father?
::~/\~::
The morning and a part of the train ride past her in a blur of colours, mostly red (Weasley). She stared out the window at the passing scenery. She was in the Head's carriage. She was going to have to face Malfoy. She groaned Not Malfoy. Harry and Ron wanted to stay and chat with her, but they were supposed to go back to their own carriages. An open book lay besides her resting on its front. A movement from the door caught her attention. It opened slowly to reveal a silvery-haired Malfoy junior. She had to face him now.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little mudblood. Seems like I'll have to spend a long while with this worthless piece of shit. Oh well, it doesn't matter as long as she respects me and doesn't speak to me," He said in mock thought. Hermione gave him a death glare. If glares could kill, Malfoy would be six-feet-under a few seconds ago.
"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm in no mood for your disrespectful chitter-chatter," she snapped at him annoyed. He clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock-shame.
"My, my, now we have an attitude today." He clicked his tongue a few more times and sat besides her, looking at her in mock-interest. This is going to be a very long trip, she thought.
[So much mock with people these days, **says in mock-amazement**]
::~/\~::
People were chatting away at the feast. Everyone wanted the sorting to be over with so they could get to their food that awaited them in the kitchens below. The talking grew and grew until Professor Dumbledore stood and held up his hand, then everyone silenced at once. Some people looked around impatiently waiting for some action. Some just stared at the Headmaster. The heavy creaking coming drew everyone's attention to the great oak doors. A stiff Professor McGonagall followed by a line of nervous first years waiting to be sorted walked down the isle between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Hermione took great interest in watching a girl that looked very anxious and excited, much like she was when she first came.
Her gaze was drawn to the head table when McGonagall began to read names off a scroll. She scanned the teachers one by one. Hooch and Sprout were smiling contentedly at the small eleven-year-olds being sorted. Vector, Sinstra, and Binns were looking bored as if they had seen this scene too many times. All the other teachers were staring solemn faced at the students. Someone was missing though. Professor Snape wasn't there. How odd, she thought.
"Earth to Hermioneeeeeeeeeee!" Ron said in a falsetto voice, "We thought we lost you there!" Hermione sighed impatiently. Ron took a large bite of his baked potato and began to speak with a full mouth, "Ifsh veare anshing shou fwanth tho thfell usfth?" he swallowed.
"Again please in English," she said irritably and quickly. Harry chuckled. His eyes twinkled in a very Dumbledore fashion. Hermione smiled briefly.
"I think he said, 'Is there anything you want to tell us?' Right, Ron?" He translated. Ron looked at him in awe.
"You should be a translator, Harry! Is there anything wrong Hermione? Is something eating at you? It sure looks like. You look terrible." Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Well aren't you just a little ray of sunshine! Actually there is something I would like to tell you, guys," she snapped. Ron began to stuff his mouth in excitement. Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Yes Hermione?" Harry prompted.
"Yesh Ferfmynee?" Ron also prompted through a mouth full of food. Hermione fake-gagged. It was disgusting though. Little bits of food flew out of his mouth.
"Please swallow, Ron," she pleaded; he swallowed, "You might not believe this, so please believe me? Ok," they nodded in unison. Ron was still eating a roll and butter, "My mother is a witch, so I am considered a pureblood." Harry looked at her surprised. Ron stopped shoveling food into his open mouth.
"Pureblood? Wouldn't you be a halfblood, Hermione?" Harry asked as he was the only one who noticed, Ron was too busy staring, "Wouldn't your dad have to be a pure too?"
"There is something else," she said to them in a hushed voice, "My dad isn't my biological father. My real father is actually a halfblood, but is considered a pure. My father is Tom Riddle."
"Tom Riddle . . . Tom Marvalo Riddle. That's . . . Voldemort?" Harry figured out. Ron winced at the name.
"Don't say that name," he hissed, "You've got to be kidding me! You-know-who's your father?"
"Yes." She raised an eyebrow, "I wouldn't lie to you guys." Harry's eye twitched, which wasn't a good sign. Hermione had only seen him have that reaction in their fifth year, it ended with him yelling his head off. He was clearly pissed off. His eyes hardened with anger and hate. Hate so strong that even Voldemort would be scared.
"Your father?" he began through gritted teeth, "Your father killed my parents. How do I know that you won't try to hurt me? Well Hermione Granger or should I say Hermione Riddle?" Hermione looked him puzzled with an eyebrow raised. Ron was looking back and forth at the two wondering who would win the battle of tongues.
"Just because he's my father doesn't mean that I think and act like him. I would never, I repeat never, try to hurt you, Harry James Potter. You are like a brother to me and I would do anything to keep our friendship going," Hermione retorted. Harry stood up his face reddening in anger. Heads turned towards them. The Hall turned into a deadly silence. Hermione stood up and looked Harry in the eyes. His eyes narrowed menacingly. A maniacal glint appeared in the depths of his emerald eyes.
"I don't care. You are still his flesh and blood. Every time I turn my back you could be trying something on me. I don't think I can trust you." Tears formed in Hermione's eyes. Teachers were looking on with deep concern and confusion upon their faces. Ron looked at Harry and then at Hermione in anger.
"Harry, but I woul . . ." Hermione began, but she was interrupted by Harry's voice which was shaking in anger and rage.
"No Buts! I don't care. Get out of my sight. I don't want to speak to you ever again so just GO!" Harry yelled. The tears Hermione had been trying to keep back fell in a mad torrent. She moved from her seat and ran blindly out the hall. Professor McGonagall made a move to go stop her, but was stopped by Professor Dumbledore. Many students just stared in shock at were Hermione had been and Harry stood.
::~/\~::
Hermione sat on her bed in the Head Girl's room shaking madly. Her friends had rejected her. What was life worth living for now? She asked herself. The tears had run dry when she looked into the mirror. She wanted to not be herself. Not look the way she did. Not to be the way she was. To be another, but to still be herself. Not to look like Hermione Eloise Granger. Something popped back into her mind all of a sudden. She had a concealment charm over her looks and her real name should have been Destiny Riddle.
Since her friends had betrayed her and left her all alone she could seek revenge. Revenge with her father. Sweet revenge. Maybe she should show them how they had hurt her so. Show them what they did to her and get them back. If they didn't want her nobody did. If she were just a daughter of a freak then nobody would stand to look at her.
Death was a nice simple answer for revenge's call. She picked her wand up and pulled out a stick of wood she had found. Saying a simple incantation the stick transformed into a small blade that gleamed in the wavering light of the fire. She brought the cold blade to the skin of her wrist. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain.
It never came.
She plucked up the courage to look down at her wrist. She saw a thin cut that ran across her flawless wrist. Small drops of crimson blood made its way down her pale fingers. She looked closer at the falling blood. Gold, green, silver, blue and all the other colours you could ever imagine. Her last thoughts would be of the true colour of blood. It was Voldemort's blood and her mother's. She should just give up. She squeezed her eyes shut again. When they opened she found that her thin cut had healed and all that was left was a pale scar. Her eyes widened and tears threatened to fall once more.
If she couldn't kill herself, she had one option left. Voldemort. She would join her father. Revenge is sweeter with company, she thought. Where did that come from? Must be the genes. The concealment charm and how to take it off . . . She got up and rummaged through her pile of books. At last she found the book she had been searching for. Charms for the Charmed. Such an interesting name, she thought as she ran a finger through the many pages.
Ah yes. The Revealing Charm, I should have known. She stood up in front of the mirror and said her little incantation of revealing, "Revealo". It was very simple, but the revealing was hard. Her skin began to bubble and it felt hot. After a minute of agonizing pain she opened her eyes and looked in the mirror to find a pair of deep onyx eyes flecked with gold and blue. Definitely not her eyes, she thought. Her hair was wavy and cascaded down her back. It was Black with glints of red. It was smooth and was not frizzy unlike her head of hair before. She was taller and more feminine looking than she had ever been. She seemed to radiate power. An aura that probably was more powerful than Dumbledore's she felt perfect.
I would have to make a good first impression on my father, she thought as she looked through her closet of robes. One stood out in her eyes. A pure white robe that glowed in the fire's light. She put on the soft silk robe and pulled the hood over her head of black curls. It shadowed her face making her look as sinister as ever. I read somewhere that you could apparate and disapparate at Hogwarts despite the fact that everyone said that they couldn't. Books couldn't be that accurate, she thought. She could get splinched, but she didn't care. With a quick wave of her wand and a mumble of disoriented words she was being pulled instantaneously to another land. She was exactly where she wanted to be. Voldemort's ring. She landed right in front of the monster. She stood there staring at him. Many of the Death Eaters gasped at the fact that someone would interrupt the Dark Lord as he spoke.
"Young one. Little child. Why have you interrupted I, Lord Voldemort? You will pay for it. Maybe a little death will do you good," a cold voice rang out from in front of her. It was her father, the bastard, she thought.
"You wouldn't want to kill your own flesh and blood? Now would you father?"
::~/\~::
SUSPENSE! MWAHAHAHA! Sorry . . . I feel evil today! Do you like it? I assure you it will be SS/HG! Do not fear for Rose-Bob is here! Sorry I need to channel my craziness somewhere. After all I do have a stomach virus . . . :( I feel sick.
-Rose-Bob