A/N: This is the first fanfic I have written in a while. I can not guarantee that this will ever be finished or that it will be updated frequently, but if you do read this, please review. I decided to write this because I'm tired of reading fanfics about Hermione being a pureblood that are not quite up to par with my expectations. It's a difficult subject to write about, but I find the results fascinating. So on with the show!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Harry Potter. I just own the plot
Prelude
The lights were dim in the cavern that night. Hermione shivered as she descended down the dew blanketed stone stairs; the cold draft from the cavern came up at her. She donned only a nightgown-like dress: it cut right below the curve of her bum and, while it was held up by two spaghetti straps, it dipped low enough to see some cleavage, not to mention that it was nearly sheer. A small, silver knife hung by her right thigh as a constant reminder of why she was there.
At the bottom, her attendants left her and the lights grew a pinch brighter. There, in the middle of the cavern was a pond. She could see the depths from where she stood and the green-blue water looked serene in contrast to its surroundings.
"Angelus" She bowed low and held the position. "Rise"
Hermione did as she was told and rose to face the speaker: the Dark Lord.
"Descend," he commanded and she obeyed. She began to walk into the water until she reached the center. The water pooled around her and a bit above her waist. She shivered.
Around the pond were a scarce few, those to witness the ceremony and trial.
"Angelus, you are now of age. We've allowed your silly games to go on long enough. You will embrace who you are and join your family in their ranks. You will accept your duty and be who you were meant to be."
"Yes," Hermione whispered. She felt no dread, no fear. She knew this day would come and she accepted her fate, who she was meant to be: a killer, a healer, an Angelus, the right hand of the Dark Lord.
"Prepare"
She took the dagger out of its sheath. The silver blade shone a blue-green, crimson color as it reflected the torch light and the water.
"Begin"
The silver blade found its place on her right thigh. She gasped in pain as she began drawing the runes which would make up her crest. Those around her chanted the spells and she became detached from the world. So much blood, she realized as the water around her filled with a rust tint.
In one final word the binding was complete.
"Welcome Daughter, our Angelus…"
Hermione sat up in her bed awake and covered in sweat. That dream...
She had always known she was different, that she was not what she seemed, and she did the only thing she could do; she cried.
She knew she was living a lie: a secret that she could not part with…a secret she could not bare to remember. All of it, related to that one word…
Angelus
That's it for now Please Read and Review
