When Faith and Fear Collide

Chapter One

There was something indescribably satisfying about being able to vanish into a crowd of people and none of them being none the wiser to what stalked amongst them. With the sun shining upon her head, heating the curly, untamed mess of brown-black hair, Hermione was content to know that she was able to walk through the streets of Muggle America without anyone knowing who she was. Bottle in hand, the caramel-skinned witch was content to observe the throngs of people as they went about their business.

She still had an hour before her parents met up with her, at any rate. Hermione checked the watch adorning her left wrist, the silver metal gleaming against tanned skin, before her gaze rose to the streets once again. What did a teenager in America do with an hour of freedom, anyway? Her brows furrowed as the thought glided across the surface of her thoughts, plump lips pressing into a thin line as she stood.

There were several stores in the surrounding area. Grandview was open and inviting in all that it seemed to offer, a town filled with history that called to her from museums and old, multi-floored libraries. Hermione wondered what it would have been like to grow up here, in the States in this tranquil town, instead of London, England. Would she have grown up with more friends, happy in her differences instead of shunned by the children who went to primary school with her?

Did American even have a Wizarding School for magical children?

She circled the monument resting in the center of the shopping district, a tribute to fallen soldiers and their families. Hermione shielded her eyes as she peered up at it, taking in the picture of a group of soldiers clustered together, their struggle to survive, to return home to their families, forever carved into stone. The smile that spread across her face was an honest one.

Hermione let her feet carry her across the street, the few cars gliding down the lanes slowing, and then stopping, to let her by. Citizens on the sidewalks greeted with warm smiles, the women dressed in summer dresses and the men in jeans and nice shirts. A few children darted around tall, stone lampposts and between the legs of the adults, carefree and laughing.

'I think I would have liked growing up here,' Hermione browsed the windows of the shops she walked past, taking in the knickknacks and the salons and the small restaurants presented to her. She passed a used bookstore with a fond smile – these days, eBooks were all the rage. It was nice to see a bookstore, even a used bookstore, up and running in such a small town. 'Yes, I would have liked it here. It's so calm. It's like the worries of the war brewing in England doesn't exist…

'I wonder how Harry's doing,' Hermione's attention shifted to the raven-haired, green-eyed teen and his contagious determination come to the forefront of her mind. They had parted ways, her off to her family and he to the Dursleys. She could still recall the shadow in his gaze, the troubling turn of his lips. The TriWizard Tournament had left a mark on him, cut him deeply. 'I should find him a gift, something to cheer him up. Hopefully Ronald owled him over these last few weeks.'

Knowing Ron, the redhead likely hadn't sent their imprisoned, verdant-eyed friend a letter.

She'd have to remind him, then. Hermione paused in the window of one store, thoughts derailed as the antiques within gleamed and shimmered under the natural, summertime light. Her feet carried her past the window and through the door, warmth tingling in her veins as the bell let out a soft, gentle chime. Her presence announced, Hermione stepped into the warmth of the shop and let her gaze shift to cloth-covered tables decorated with curios and furniture from a time long ago.

There was a lot to look at, and Hermione let herself get swept away as she inspected everything she could get her hands on. So entranced by the history presented, the bushy-haired witch didn't notice the tall, robust woman approaching until she sat a stone egg on its pedestal and turned to find herself face-to-face with the woman.

Hermione yelped, backing into the table with a startling burst of speed. The woman steadied her before anything was knocked from its resting place, softly laughing as Hermione flushed from embarrassment. The woman grinned, voice light as she said, "It's not every day I see someone so engrossed with the past that they don't notice what's happening in the present. Are you staying in Grandview for a while or just passing through?"

"A bit of both, actually," Hermione smoothed out her skirt, the knee-long fabric swaying around her spandex-enclosed thighs. She brushed a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear, offering a white smile as she said, "You have a lovely store. I've always had a fondness for the old, forgotten things people tend to overlook. I'm Hermione, by the way."

"Delia," the woman made a gesture towards the side of the room where a table was set up with a cup of something steaming and what looked to be a plate of cookies. Hermione turned her attention back to Delia as the older woman said, "I was getting ready to have a quick snack and saw you. I bought too much, today. The store's owner isn't here. Want to help me clear the plate?"

"I'd like that," Hermione followed the shopkeeper across the room, easing herself into the upholstered chair with a well-deserved groaned. She slid her feet out of the flats she had worn, toes digging into the braided rug. "How long has the shop been here for, Delia?"

"A long time," Delia was making another cup of what Hermione realized was tea, offering a gentle smile when the warming cup was passed into her waiting hands. "I started working here about ten years ago after the last shopkeeper died in an accident. I tend to run the shop myself. The boss, it's not often she finds herself here."

"Why not?"

"Lots of people need her help around here," Delia offered a smile, head cocking to the side as she added, "I think she'd like you, Hermione. That's why I offered the tea and cookies."

They spoke for a while more, touching, lightly, upon Hermione's home in England, her thoughts about getting into the government and helping those who have fewer rights than others. Delia's eyes had widened, there, and then she smiled so wide Hermione felt another flush of warmth spread across her cheeks. Hermione turned the conversation to their shared love of books and the history which lurked all around them.

"And he nearly got expelled for defending his mother?" Delia was saying as Hermione recounted an altered version of Harry inflating his aunt. While the events weren't the exact same, she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as she replied, "He almost got expelled. She was always saying nasty things about his parents and how he was lucky his aunt took him in. When she insulted his mum, he lost his temper – one moment they were yelling at each other and the next she was outside, as good as flying away, while he threw whatever he could get his hands on at her."

Hermione sipped at her third cup of tea, enjoying the bitter taste as it rolled across her tongue. She nibbled at a lone cookie, mindful of the disapproval her parents had for all things sweet and sugary. She didn't want to get another lecture about cavities and rotting gums. Not when the day was going so well, not when the air was warm and the muggles friendly – Hermione didn't want this good day to end, not when she was feeling so welcomed among a community of strangers.

It was only keen senses attuned to anything magical that drew Hermione's attention from the conversation they were having to their surroundings. She sat up a bit straighter, brows furrowing as she felt the shift in the air. It was suddenly colder, her skin breaking out into a layer of pimpled skin. Her hair seemed to lift as if a current of energy surged through the room.

Across from her, Delia swore. "I swear, I have to get the electric company in here. If it's not bad enough I keep having these issues, so is everyone else on this side of town!"

"Is this normal?"

Delia snorted. "No, honey, it's not. This kicked up about…three months ago. Power shutting off, cold spots, restless sleepers. Some of the younger folk are saying we have a ghost in town."

Hermione knew it was a possibility, but no ghost she had ever encountered made her skin crawl and her stomach churn with unease. Whatever entity that had decided to shake itself off and wake up was a force of darkness, the air as heavy and sickening as a Dementor's presence. A quick look at her watch told Hermione she was late – at least three hours had passed, and her parents were likely upset that she was the one who was keeping them waiting.

Hermione stood, thanking Delia for the conversation and the tea. The woman walked her to the door, smiling. Hermione bowed once before turning and running towards the square, her gaze on the distant figures of her parents waiting, feet tapping impatiently on the ground, at the base of the memorial. As she closed the distance, Hermione slowed as she noticed the shadow and how the darkness in the air was thicker and intent upon her.

Her gaze slowly lifted, rising to the top of the statue, where something she had never seen, on TV or in a book, perched. Her backpack fell from her shoulder, hitting the ground as she stared up at this glowing, yellowed-eyed beast regarded her with a cruel, fanged grin. Her parents were looking a tad alarmed, their pale skin showing hints of a sunburn as they took a step away from the stone monument and reached for her.

The following explosions were what Hermione knew to be apparition, the telltale cracks of loud noise accompanied by suddenly-there witches and wizards dressed in black robes. She knew they were aurors, knew the way their wands were coming up were anything but friendly. She wasn't sure, however, if those wands were aimed at her, at her parents, or at the creature hysterically howling with laughter from where it was perched. She only knew that, as her parents yelled her name, the creature pushed from its perch and came at her with claws unsheathed.

The flare of red magic that sailed over her shoulder, smashing into this golemesque creature, forced her into action. Her wand fell into her hand, a ready protego flying past her lips. A shimmering wall of magic rose in front of her, catching the second attack seconds before it would have hit. The spells slipped through her lips, one after another, as she wedged herself between her parents and the creature and American aurors. When the creature slapped a wizard across the square and turned its gaze on her, Hermione's blood turned to ice.

'It's targeting me,' She eased to the left, watching as it followed her movement. It was unfazed by the multitude of spells slamming into it, as was common with many creatures. Normal spells held little sway over them. Hermione took another step, shield still a shimmering wall between them. 'I have to get it away from my parents. The aurors can get them to safety.'

Hermione took a step backward, heart pounding as the creature slinked forward. When its jaws opened, saliva pooled around its fangs and splattered across the ground. Hermione watched, horrified, as the stones blackened and crumbled away – acid, she knew. It had acid saliva.

With a final exhale, Hermione cast a blasting charm and, as it dunked its head to bear the force of the attack, the bushy-haired teenager turned and fled. Behind her, her parents screamed her names as aurors shouted for her to come back. Then she heard the beast roar, the sound drowning out all other noise before she felt the ground tremble and groan. It shuddered, cracking, underneath her feet.

She knew, then, that it was in hot pursuit.

The beast was the hunter…

And she the prey.

Author's Note

For those who are pulling at their hair and screaming, take a moment to breathe. Relax your muscles, calm your turbulent mind. There's quite a bit to say about the story which you have just read. Or the first chapter of a story you just read. Before all of you start sending me reviews stating, 'Continue Blood of the Serpent!', let me get a few words out. These are important and I think they have to be said.

First: Don't send me reviews telling me to update or continue another story in this story! I can't even begin to say how much that irritates me. This story isn't BOTS, nor any of the other stories I have on here. It is 'When Faith and Fear Collide,' a different sort of story I never thought I would try and write. For those who know me well enough, my preferred "pairing" is readily obvious. Yet this story came from nowhere, demanding my momentary attention, and its call was one I could not ignore.

Second: Hermione is going to be a bit OOC. This is intentional because of the fact that I have an entirely different take on how I want her to be in this story and how she will evolve. I was never a fan of the entire 'know-it-all-girl-with-a-book-in-her-hands' who just happens to suddenly befriend Harry and Ron because of the fact she has to save their asses in almost EVERY book! The Golden Trio would be 'Golden and Dead' if not for her and her intelligence. She's also going to look a bit differently because of the fact her origins are different in this story - so for those who are going to "Hate" on me for changing her skin tone...just stop while you're in the lead. The changes I make are intentional and for a good reason, all which will be explained later in the story.

Third: There's going to be a few people who think Tom/Hermione/Voldemort could never happen; in canon, that's very true (though, at the same time, pairing him with Harry Potter {who he's distantly related to} is about as hard to swallow for others) but, at the same time, Tom Riddle/Voldemort wasn't given much of a chance in the books to shine as anything other than a snake-faced, megalomaniac, psychopathic, bigoted, insane, hypocritial asshat who looked like a love child between a snake and a corpse. Just throwing that out there. It's the truth and we all know it! I still love Tom Riddle/Voldemort, though, because his unspoken story holds a great deal of story that tugs at my heartstrings.

For all of you who read all of the above, I congratulate you. Not many will read through an author's note unless they asked a question earlier in a review and are looking to see if I answered their question - and, more often than not, when I do answer those questions...some people aren't happy. All of the above is stated because I know there's going to be quite a stir about what I'm going to do and the changes I intend to make. I can't bring myself to care beyond what I just said above. It's too bothersome.

On a personal level, I think Hermione and Tom/Voldemort could bond if they were given the opportunity. And that's what I intend to do, though it's not going to be an instant, sudden, 'we can't look at anyone and we're ripping each other's clothes off and getting funky against a wall/floor/hard surface because we can' sort of thing. I find that sort of thing to be unbelievable and repulsive (because that sounds like something that would happen when someone was under the influence of a love potion and a compulsion charm by a sadistic asshole who wants to blackmail them both) and I tend to leave those sort of things out.

Now that everything is done and said, I'll leave this extremely long, Author's Rant with one last comment:

I love to know what you all think about the story in question. So, with that said: Favorite, Follow, and Review!