Summery: Hermione Granger has a secret. A secret that could tear apart the wizarding world as she knows it. Will she be all alone in the world? Or will she find the strength to fight for what she knows is right?

Authors Note: Okay, guys! I'm Ever and this is my first fic. I was trying to get up the courage to post something when I came along this. It is older and unfinished, so it's kind of tarnished but I will do my best to salvage it. Any criticism is welcomed within reason. I was going to find a beta to help me out with this since I'm rusty, but I'm honestly brand new to this site, so no beta.

This is a HG/SS fanfic. Please no, flaming. You have been warned. If you don't like it, don't read it. :D

I hope you enjoy it!

WARNING!: Rated M for a reason! Mostly for blood and language.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, nothing in JK's wonderful world is mine. I just take them out to play once in a while.

Prologue - My Father

My name is Hermione Jean Granger, and I am not a Muggle-born. Shocked? You aren't the only one. So many people in my life even now have issues with wrapping their heads around this elementary fact. As if even I, the know-it-all of the famous Golden Trio, had any control over her parentage. I have known about my father ever since my second year at Hogwarts. I am taken aback even now that I was able to piece all of the evidence that surrounded me together. I was merely thirteen at the time, so innocent and naive. I had only spent a little over a year in the wizarding world and the gravity of my situation could not have been appreciated by such a young witch, no matter how clever. I had only an inkling of how serious the situation was, even then. Now that I have reached adulthood I have a full understanding of what is expected of me. What I must do. I have been told by many that I am the most intelligent and talented witch my age. Maybe I got it from my father. I wouldn't be surprised.

I had heard my father's name mentioned in hushed tones among my peers ever since I had arrived on the Hogwarts Express. The fact that the Boy-Who-Lived was on the train for the first time, doubtless had something to do with this. My father's name had been whispered, especially by the Slytherin's. His true name was not the one being murmured among the students, however. My father, struck fear into all, even then. Most didn't even speak his name and when they did it wasn't his given name. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, Voldemort. These were the names I was introduced to. I had heard horrible stories about him murdering and torturing innocents, magical and Muggle alike. I learned that he killed my best friend's parents the fateful night he was "destroyed," and had turned his wand on Harry, destroying himself. I hated and feared him then. As I should have. It was not my place to know Tom Riddle just yet.

It was as the year went on that I began to wonder how I could do things the others couldn't. I was very powerful with my wand and with potions. I was the best, out doing everyone in the class. No one ever had known a thirteen year old, second year that could brew a pollyjuice potion. I began to appear as if I was studying with all I had, trying to prove that a Muggle-born was up to the terrifying challenge of being thrust into the wizarding world as I was. The truth was that I had never put much into my schooling. It all just came so naturally to me.

My talent's began to truly scare me when I discovered that I could speak parsle-tongue. I had been attending a dueling club when Harry spoke to the snake Draco Malfoy had conjured. I remember reading about the snake language and the looks on Snape and Lockhart's face's when they heard Harry speak the dreaded language terrified me. I never spoke of it, keeping the horrid secret to myself. I heard the voices Harry spoke of too. Later we would find that a basilisk had been slithering around the school and that it had been it's voice that Harry and I had heard.

During that year I had felt a strong presence that I was drawn to awake and asleep. Now that I look back on it, it was like I was an addict, I just had not known then what my addiction was. However the pull of the addiction was strong. It was almost too strong, but in the end I prevailed, figuring out what was attacking the students in the halls. I wound up risking my life to catch a glimpse of the creature so that I might end my pain. Again I would discover later what I had been feeling, and why I could barely sleep. When I had heard the story from Dumbledore and Harry, I learned that the presence I had felt had been Tom Riddle's; Voldemort's. After some extensive searching on why I had been wanting to practically kill to get to a memory, I found the answer in an ancient text that I had found in the darkest corner of the Hogwarts library. The book looked as if it had not been touched in centuries. I can, even now years later, remember what the text stated.

It is rare when one is compelled by magic to be at another's side. The first, is when the two people in question are soul mates. In most case's after a period of time they can even speak to each other telepathically. This is only after wizarding wedding vows have bonded them together with the most ancient of magic. This magic however is more subtle, it is not painful to the two in question. Some do not even know that they are being affected by such magic at all. This is very powerful Light magic.

The second, and extremely rare circumstance is when a parent is separated from a child in a gruesome, life altering way. In the three cases that have been documented, the parent's soul was ripped from their body and every time the soul or presence came close to the child (it's always an only child) the child is effected, and is pulled toward their parent, and vice versa. If they resist they will experience excruciating emotional and mental pain until they make the final connection that is needed to break the is one of the Darkest forms of magic documented in wizarding history...

At that point I had known he was my father. I had known that Lord Voldemort, that Tom Riddle, were still alive and could return to the world with a body. I prepared myself, knowing it would have to happen soon. My father wouldn't be able to bear living without me by his side, now that he had tasted my presence after being away for so long. He was getting stronger even then.

I was right, in my fourth year, an hour into the final task I felt it. I felt that irresistible pull inside me telling me, Go be with your father. Go. Now. I resisted, and found out later what I already knew from Harry, from Dumbledore. My father had returned.

The following night I could not control myself. It was like I was possessed, but I remember everything. Right down to the smell of the air.

**Flashback**

I grabbed my wand, making it down to the deserted common room. I was still in my school robes, not bothering to try and sleep. My senses were humming. I couldn't stop moving, twirling my curly hair as I walked purposefully down the stairs.

When I reached the fireplace, my hand reached out to grip the clock on the mantle. I didn't care anymore. I needed to end my pain. I knew that if I could just touch him, my pain would end. That this dark, ancient magic would release it's hold from my throat. If I didn't complete the connection I would die of insanity. I just wished that I knew what I would do once I made the connection I so desperately wanted.

Not realizing what I was doing, I took the small clock and tapped it with my wand. Before I knew it, I was being transported by portkey in a whirlwind of color and sound. Almost feline like, I landed on my feet steadily. Dusting off my robes, I placed the clock on a little table by my side. I looked up, my long, curly hair framing my face.

A spidery white hand held out a silver mask, not even a foot in front of me. I took it instinctively and held it to my face. I sensed more than his presence in the room, and I was wary, averting my eyes from them, keeping my eyes at my father's feet.

I felt his hand on the small of my back, and his voice hissed in my ear. "You are still innocent, my daughter. You should not be looked upon by such eyes yet."

I shivered. His voice made my skin crawl and yet it made my spirit calm. I would finally be at peace. I cleared my throat. The air in the room was stuffy, and it felt like I was gulping down soup instead of actual air.

"Leave me." my father ordered. "I have much to discuss with my daughter. Go."

I heard the whispers of four different sets of robes, and then a door closed. I looked up at the man that I had been so desperate to be with. Looking at his body he was horrifying. The pale skin, the cat like red eyes, the snake like nose, the spidery fingers, the feeling that he was towering over me. He reached out and barely brushed the pads of his finger to the hand that was now holding up the silver mask to my face. I shuddered with a sigh of relief and fear. That was all I needed. I could feel my soul beginning to quiet and calm. It was if someone was pouring hot liquid all over my body, calming every muscle, every nerve. The sensation started where he touched me and gradually spread throughout my tense body. My mind slowed, no longer reaching out for his. My soul and mind were no longer jittery.

I took in another gulp of the thick air. I smiled at him, removing the mask and bowing, not yet making eye contact with the man in front of me. Though, out of the corner of my eye I could see the tremor in his hand. He was feeling the relief I was. The serenity that was soul deep.

"Father." I whispered.

"Daughter." he replied. His voice had the tiniest hint of compassion. Compassion that only I would ever see. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders. "Come," he said, motioning towards two chairs in front of a fire place. "We must talk."

**Flashback ends**

I was fifteen then. For almost three years I kept him and our meetings secret. Our meetings consisted mostly of my training in the Dark Arts, Occlumency, and Legilimency, with some pure-blood history thrown in, especially of my family's; the Slytherin's. I never saw or heard anyone when I met with him. And I began to think of him as a father, pushing the thoughts of my adoptive parents aside. He provided for me, he protected me. He even loved me in a strange kind of way that only he could. I began to love him, and it was hard for me to go back to school after our Saturday meetings and hear what others said about him and his Death Eaters. But I was the only one that would see the good in him.

The years past, and I had become more powerful than I had ever dreamed possible. I knew spells and curses that would make Albus Dumbledore himself cringe. I knew secrets of the Dark Arts that many only dreamed in their worst nightmares. But for all of my darkness, I remained the innocent little know-it-all that everyone loved when I wasn't around my father. I had to keep my power secret. Yes, I was still the know-it-all Miss Granger, but no one ever suspected who I truly was and what my talents were or even the fact that I saw the darkest wizard to ever live every week for private lessons. I was amused even then that I had so many members of the Order of the Pheonix around me, I was even trusted enough to spend a summer in their headquarters. Yet no one ever suspected the bloodline of the Gryffindor prefect, best friend of Harry Potter. To my knowledge, not even Severus Snape had known, and I had been in his presence more than once with my silver mask securely placed.

Part of me wished I could have just told the world of my father and my abilities. But I knew it was too dangerous. Father had engrained this into my memory from our very first lesson, and I would never go against his word like that. At least, while I remained a child anyway.

In the last month of my seventh year, Father called upon me as usual for my lessons, but that was not all he wished to discuss with his daughter. He had news.

**Flashback**

"Hermione," Father called to me from his private library.

I turned from the potion I had been working on, closing Blood Potions For the Dark with a snap. I wiped my hands on a rag that had been laying next to my cauldron, quickly tossing it back to it's place on the bench as I made my way toward his voice and stood in the doorway of the library.

"Yes, father?" I asked.

Father looked up at me, closing the book that he had been reading and beckoning me to cross the enormous room to him. "Come in, my daughter. I have something to tell you."

He was sitting in front of the fire in a black leather armchair, gazing at me over laced, white fingers. In seconds I was before him with a puff of smoke. He smirked at me.

"Well done."

"I have been taught by the best, Father." I said smiling at his praise.

He had been teaching me of other forms of transportation, besides Apperition and Portkeys. They weren't always possible due to most wards and other magical barriers. Iterfumo, was his favorite out of the many others, and therefore was the one he had chosen to train me in.

Silence descended upon us. "If anyone was to figure out a way to transport oneself despite wards it would be you, sir."

"Hmm..." he murmured, only acknowledging my compliment with a fraction of a nod. "Hermione, you graduate in a month, correct?"

"Yes, sir. Right after I complete my N. E. W. T's." I replied, my eyebrows together.

"Hermione..." he said. His red eyes were fixed on something behind me, gazing off at something distant. "How would you like it if you joined me and became second in command of my Death Eaters?" I stared at him. "You and I have already discussed that you will take the Dark Mark, but I want you to be at my side, my daughter. You need to meet the Death Eater's and be prepared to rule over them should I die at Dumbledore's or Potter's hand."

"Father!" I gasped. The thought had crossed my mind previously, but to have him speak her fears aloud was a shock. "Don't-!"

"It is inevitable that I will be killed by that old fool or that boy in the future, Hermione," he said, standing. "And I need someone of my bloodline that will lead my Death Eaters to victory and rule them with the strength I, myself, have taught them. That leaves you, daughter. I can trust no other."

I nodded, averting my eyes. I did not know what to say. Father approached me and took my chin in his icy fingers. "Hermione, look at me," he said. I could tell it was not an order, but a request. That made me look up. "I want you to meet with my Death Eaters and finish your training in the open," he said. "I am holding a celebration ball on the night of you graduation, welcoming the new Death Eater's to our ranks. I would like to introduce you then."

I looked up into his red eyes, not a hint of fear in my emotions. I nodded. "Of course, Father." I replied. Lord Voldemort smiled.

**Flashback ends**

It is three days until I will be introduced to my father's men. Three days until I have to bear the Dark Mark against my skin. Three days until my deepest, darkest secret will be revealed to the world. I don't know how Harry, Ron, Dumbledore or the rest of Hogwarts School will take this news. The news that their brightest, most talented student and promising Head Girl is the daughter of the most feared man alive and is going to stand by his side. I don't know how I will take it, but I have three days to be with them, before my life changes forever.

How on earth will I survive this? I have to choose between my friends and my father. And I have three days left to decide. How I wish I could have them both.

Author's Note: So, how did you like it? I can't wait to get some feedback soon. Next chapter will be up ASAP.