Edited

Hermione's first few weeks at Hogwarts were uneventful. She found herself bored, more often than not, with her classes and her dorm mates. She was sitting in an armchair in the Slytherin commons, reading another obnoxiously long letter from her mother, who was apparently worried beyond belief at Hermione's lack of communication. The blonde scoffed as she dipped her quill in the ink pot on the small side table near her chair. She scribbled out a short response before rolling her letter and elegantly tying a ribbon around it. She need someone to deliver the letter to the owlery, conveniently, she caught sight of twin mops of red fidgeting in her peripheral.

"Why do the two of you find it necessary to hover?" The red headed nuisances made it into Slytherin somehow and Hermione wanted nothing more than to strangle them each and every time they came near her. Their favourite pastime seemed to be pestering her every chance they got. They always wanted to carry her tomes or fetch her quills, bring her a goblet of pumpkin juice or tie back her hair before flying practices. Her patience was wearing thinner with them, but regardless of how many times she insulted their family, their hair, and their poverty, they never seemed to get the hint. They were irritating, but they were also useful.

"We just want to-" One started.

"-make sure you're comfortable." The other finished.

She grit her teeth and massaged her temples. One hand from each twin took the position of both of hers, rubbing in circles and fluffing sofa pillows with their other hands. She tried to keep them as busy as she possibly could. They never did anything alone, so if she ordered one away they would both go scuttling off together. She waved the rolled up parchment in front of them, there was no verbal command needed for them to take it from her and scurry off to the owlery. She smirked as the common room entrance closed and she was once again immersed in silence. She found that her favourite thing about life before Hogwarts was that she had ample time to delve into her mind and simply enjoy being alone. Here at Hogwarts the populous, regardless of their house or year, was far more interested in her than even she was. She opened the tome she had been neglecting for days and finally began reading the last chapter.

"Hello Hermione." She had to resist the urge to hex the foolish interloper. Her temper was nearly at its peak and person after person felt it necessary to test her. She prayed, to whichever deity would listen, for enough patience to finish the night.

"What is it Greengrass? I'm quite sure you can see how busy I am." The pure irritation in Hermione's tone made the other blonde squirm as grey eyes fell upon her. It wasn't that Hermione hated the girl, but these past few weeks had been nothing but annoyances and the Black house heir had little tolerance for it. Most of the interruptions were just to waste her time with meaningless banter. It seemed that all of her classmates were simpleminded and if she didn't speak slowly they wouldn't be able to keep up. If she wasn't speaking about pureblood supremacy or how many new robes her mother and aunt had gotten for her, they wouldn't be able to understand a single word she said.

"What are you reading?" The Greengrass heir stared intently at Hermione, true interest shone in her dark blue eyes. She wasn't interested in the text really, but she was interested in listening to Hermione's voice.

"Everyday Charms: The Dark Arts Edition, Volume 4." She turned her attention back to page 1134, which gave an extensive explanation of the pros and cons to cooking with dark magic. Hermione scoffed, she couldn't imagine someone like her Aunt Cissy wasting the energy to make breakfast, magic or no, cooking spells were for elves.

"That's really interesting, would you be willing-"

"Haven't you anything else to do?" Hermione cut the other blonde off without even sparing her a second glance. She was rereading the same sentence for the fifth time in twice as many minutes.

"Oh yeah, Adrian wanted me to-"

"Don't tell me, just do it." Hermione dismissed the Greengrass girl with the wave of her hand before returning to the theory of cooking in magically crafted pots vs. muggle-crafted pots. She saw no difference other than having to take a short trip to muggle London for a new pot when they could simply get one in Diagon Alley. Getting the pots from Diagon Alley was far more convenient than sullying one's robes to travel through muggle crowds.

"Black, what d'you got there?" The Black house heir huffed irritably and glanced up. She glared at the halfblood Bulstrode girl as she sauntered in and took a seat near Hermione's chair. "I've never seen that one before. Where'd you find it?" She had finally had it, she drew her wand and with a wordless wave the tall brunette was running for the medical wing with a face covered in warts and trail of slugs being left behind each time she opened her mouth. She smiled softly as she returned, happily, to her reading.

Azkaban

A frail emaciated figure rocked back and forth in a small cell. The stone walls had claw like indentions from the woman's fits of rage, and blood stains covered the floors from the woman's despair. She whispered to herself as her thin fingers rubbed together in an attempt to create some form of heat. Her body looked like bones covered in tight leathery flesh; hallow face with sunken eyes and black rotting teeth. Her long tresses were once pristine, but years of mistreatment had turned them to dull matted locks. She could hear foot steps nearing her cell, each step excited her, she hardly received visitors. If she had known someone would be dropping by she would have tidied up.

"Hey 93! How's the gruel?" They liked to check on her twice a year, each time with hope that her spirit had been broken or she had finally died. She never let them win though, she would never be broken, especially not by the cowardice scum that ran this place.

"Delectable, absolutely scrumptious!" The dark witch rose quickly to her feet, her hands wrapping around the bars of her cell. Her tongue hung from her mouth like a feral animal as she gave the warden a deranged grin. "You should have told me you were coming, I would have whipped something up for you." She threw her empty food bowl at the bars before spitting at the warden's feet. The man looked scandalised as he stepped away from the cell just to have another pair of hands attempt to grab him from behind. "Keep your hands to yourself Lestrange! He's mine." Bellatrix hissed at the dirty man who was chained to the wall in the cell across from hers. The man sneered at her, but he released the warden as she commanded. "Do tell the good news, 'ittle baby warden. You only come up here when the family sends a message, do tell." She licked her dry lips, their usual red was now a dull pink.

"The girl, Regulus's child. She was sorted into Slytherin." Sorrow passed through the witches eyes, but was gone so quickly the warden didn't notice. She missed her darling little Hermione, she knew the girl wasn't the young child she remembered anymore, but imaging her as anything older than the three year old she left behind made her realise just how long the two of them had been apart.

"Splendid!" She clapped her hands and cackled wildly before her face was stone again, she stared the man down, her nearly black eyes boring into him. "Have you been sending my death threats down the hall to my cousin? He mustn't be surprised when I get out of here and he wakes up dead." She knew the man was, he was a friend of the filthy Potter's mudblood, as much as he hated Bellatrix, he hated Sirius more and would take advantage of every opportunity to make the dark haired man squirm. The warden looked absolutely terrified as he scurried out of the maximum security wing. Bellatrix didn't understand why the man always swaggered in when he knew he would be wetting his trousers as he left. Some people never learned, a lesson could only be taught so many times before the teacher became irritated and the student was given red knuckles.

The warden didn't fear Sirius as he did the dark witch. The quivering child that Bellatrix reduced him to was easily forgotten when he made it to Sirius Black's cell. He pushed a piece of moulded and soggy bread between the bars and laughed as the thin man crawled from the shadows to retrieve it. Sirius didn't even acknowledge the warden as he hastily devoured the blue, green, and white haired lump. The dark haired man watched as his water bowl was filled with a strong scented yellow liquid. As the warden finished he stuffed himself back into his trousers and smiled wickedly at the man.

"Drink up Black, we can't have you die of dehydration. You've got many years of suffering left." Sirius crawled back into his dark corner and waited, he would drink, but not while the man watched. He couldn't bear the additional ridicule. The warden knew that the grey eyed man would drink what he was given because the bowl was always empty upon his return each day. He eventually grew impatient and left the dirty man to continue rotting as he would for the rest of his life.

Malfoy Manor

Josephine Black paced, her eyes planted firmly to the drawing room's floor. She was a worried mess, she had always been and her daughter wasn't helping matters. She read over the letter that she received again and again. Perhaps the girl was busy, she reassured herself. Or her sweet child was ill and the school was withholding that information from her. Her breathing grew shallow as her eyes skimmed the letter once again.

I'm fine mother, stop hassling me.

Hermione Black

She hated when the girl brushed her off. It wasn't like she was a needy woman, she just required reassurance now and again. She couldn't help that she "hassled" her child, Hermione was away from home for the first time. It was different when Hermione spent a few months here and there at Malfoy Manor or with the Malfoys in one of their many vacation homes, Josephine could easily apparate or floo to any of those locations. Hogwarts was a guarded sanctuary and without approval from the headmaster she wouldn't be allowed in when ever she pleased. Who would ensure Hermione was eating properly? Dressing warm enough for the cold season? Keeping up with her studies? Who would protect her fragile angel if not herself?

"She is fine Josephine." Lucius watched his sister drive herself nearly mad over Hermione. The eldest had far too much free time on her hands, if she were engaged in some sort of activity she wouldn't be nearly as stressed. Lucius tried to attach his sister to his wife's hip, but pulling her from his side grew harder and harder. Narcissa was an event planner, she worked with the most prestigious of wizards and witches to plan anything from immaculate weddings to small family gatherings. The cold woman often invited her bothersome sister-in-law, on the request of her husband of course, but Josephine never seemed to be interested in anything other than tearing her hair out over insignificant things. Regulus' death took a greater toll on her than anyone originally thought. She would go for days without sleeping a single minute because she feared that she would wake to the death of another loved one.

"How do you know Lucius? The other children could be bullying her." Her fingers threaded themselves into her long blonde tresses. "She could never tolerate being around any children other than Draco." She yanked viciously at her hair. "She must be miserable." Tears welled in her bright blue eyes as she fell to her knees. Lucius rushed to her side and gathered her in his arms. He never knew how to calm her, he feared that one day she would harm herself irreversibly and he would be left to just watch as it happened. Regulus was exactly what Josephine needed, from the moment they met at Hogwarts, he had been her stability. Though he had his adulterous faults, he was a good man where his family, friends, and their Lord were concerned. Everything Josephine did revolved around her deceased husband and suddenly the world felt like it was no longer turning because she was alone.

"She will be alright, I promise." He whispered as his sister sobbed in his arms. He rocked her as if he was consoling an infant. His sister was the only living person in the world that knew the true Lucius, Regulus was the only other. Narcissa and Draco didn't even know of the kindness that the Lord of the Manor contained. His violent rage for his father was often taken out on his wife and son. His mind was slipping from him, even this early in life, his eyes held the same lost glances and defensive anger that Narcissa often saw from her eldest sister. His episodes were short, but an hour of crazed fury could beat his wife and kill their first born child before she was old enough to wean.

Hogwarts

The chamber of secrets is a exactly as the name would have you believe. A chamber that only one person, besides Salazar Slytherin himself, could ever open. There are many myths pertaining to the chamber and what could be in it, anything from untold riches guarded by beasts that lurk only in nightmares to the resting place of all the truths left unsaid by the Founders themselves.

Hermione scoffed and quietly closed the text. She wasn't a descendant of Slytherin, but if their Lord, halfblood and all, could get in she could too. Firstly, she needed to pinpoint all the possible places that the entrance could be. Then she needed to figure out how to get in. There were hundreds of secret passages and it could take her weeks to check them all, but she really didn't have anything better to do. With all of the assignments that Snape and McGonagall gave out she thought she would be busy for at least the rest of the week. When all of her assignments were complete within the first 48 hours, she was more than just a little disappointed.

Hermione watched the sun set through the lake. The water turned it into a shapeless glowing mass as it slowly sank below the horizon. A chestnut complected boy caught her attention as he made his way from the boy's dormitory toward the exit. He subtly glanced into each of the dark corners of the commons as he passed. A smirk slowly curled the corner of her mouth as she stood and quickly caught up to the sixth year Prefect.

"Zabini, mind if I walk with you?" He watched her with a cold and unyielding mask of indifference. Brys Zabini was the eldest of three and the most Slytherin as well. He saw through every plot before it began and avoided confrontation simply because he was one of the few intelligent snakes in the dungeon. He could tell that she was up to something, but Hermione would make sure he never found out what exactly. She wasn't one of the lesser purebloods, the sorts that Zabini read like an open book, she was the heir of the most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

"Curfew." His Italian accent was thick and she noticed even with his one worded reply. She smiled up at the boy and turned on the charm that had been bred into every Black since the beginning of time. At twelve, she was nothing of interest to any boy, but to a pureblood boy, her name alone could send any of them into a lovestruck trance.

"I know." Any boy would be elated to find themselves at the centre of Hermione's attention, but Zabini remained as uninterested as he always was. She grew irritated the longer he stared into her eyes. He wasn't much for talking, neither was his younger brother, who spent all of his time at the Malfoy Manor with Draco. Something flickered through his eyes before he dipped his head minutely and continued walking. She didn't expect the boy to kneel and kiss her boot, but he could have at least spoken. Hermione nearly ran into the Italian boy as he stopped abruptly. He glanced over his shoulder at her, a quiet fire burning in his eyes.

"I know what you desire most." He whispered to her in the darkness. His hand reached into his robe and he pulled out a tome. The cover was made of leather and was obviously ancient, but its binding was of magical origin. The title was in Latin, Infinitae Cognitionis. "Everything you wish to know lives within its pages." She took the tome from his hand and caressed the spine, her mind working to translate the title.

"Infinite knowledge." She whispered. He nodded slowly his dark eyes watching her closely. "I assume this isn't free." Her expression steeled as he slowly shook his head.

His hand took her free one gently. His fingers traced over her veins before stoping at her wrist. His index finger pressed firmly into her skin and his mouth fell open as soft almost musical Latin phrases crossed his lips. She couldn't decipher their meaning, but she could feel the strength of the spell. He slide his finger down her wrist until their hands met and as their hands touched a red thread of magic wove around them before breaking in two and fastening around their necks. As the magic dimmed and solidified it fell heavily against her chest. A black and dark purple crest hung from the chain; the Zabini crest.

"What exactly have I agreed to?" He chuckled as he began walking again.

"I will come to collect in four years time. I have given you what you desire most and soon you will return the favour." Hermione pondered that statement for many nights after that. Brys transferred to Durnstrang for some mysterious reason not even a week later. The eldest Zabini's transfer wouldn't be so odd if it weren't for his younger brother sitting next to her on the way to Hogwarts the following year. She was so focused on the eldest Zabini that by the time the year ended she had only checked half of the places on her list.

l..l

"Hermione, try to write a little more often and take care of your cousin, dear." Hermione stood stoically as her mother fussed over her; dusting away nonexistent lint and grooming her already perfect hair. Her cousin and she made eye contact as it seemed their mothers' actions mirrored each other, the only difference being the cold of Narcissa's expression and the warmth of Josephine's.

"Mother, Draco knows how to take care of himself. I would like to get on the train now." She brushed her mother off coolly and motioned for Diffy, their house elf, to load her luggage onto the train. Her mother watched bravely as her daughter once again left the safety of her arms for Hogwarts.

Draco caught up to his older cousin as she stepped onto the magical red machine. His eyes were alight with excitement, though he tried his best to remain as stone faced as his cousin. Hermione walk briskly, an innate confidence in her gait. Her nose was upturned as she held her head high and sneered down at each of the new additions to Hogwarts. Her cousin followed her lead, glaring at those that Hermione considered the "filthy sort." She prided herself on the influence she had on the young boy. If he ever wished to go anywhere in pureblood society, Hermione was a perfect example to follow, or so her aunt always said.

They found an empty compartment near the back of the train and took their seats.

"Do you think I'll be sorted into Slytherin?" Draco was always an insecure child, he stared nervously at his cousin. His need for reassurance was disgusting and Hermione made sure to tell him. She took note of the dejection that passed through his eyes and smirked.

"No Malfoy has ever been sorted anywhere else, are you a Malfoy?" His expression brightened and they fell into a comfortable silence. Hermione was fond of the boy, he was smarter than he looked and quite resilient when the need arose. With more practise, he could one day be a great wizard and a perfect pureblood man.

Their car door slid open and revealed a fairly tall boy with chestnut skin and a very familiar pair of dark brown eyes. His dark hair was longer than his brother's, curlier as well, but the resemblance was obvious. The brother's didn't share a father, but they could be twins, the only difference being the shape of their noses and the texture of their hair.

"Blaise Zabini." Hermione greeted.

"Hermione Black."' He replied, their eyes locked for a long moment. The necklace began to heat and almost vibrate against her skin, the longer she stared. "My brother sends his regards." He spoke in nearly a whisper, the same darkness she had see in his brother's eyes swirling in the brown depths. She felt pressure in her chest, almost like she was suffocating. Her breaths grew shallow and her vision began to blur around the edges.

"Zabini have a seat." Draco smirked at his friend, mischief dancing in the grey orbs. Suddenly the pressure was gone and she gasped softly, ignoring her cousin's chuckle. Blaise forwent the spot near Draco and took the one near Hermione. Every so often she would catch his gaze as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She sat silently, zoning in and out of a conversation the two first years were having.

Eventually Daphne Greengrass wondered in, her blue eyes lit the moment she saw Hermione. She nudged Blaise out of her way and claimed the seat next to the Black House heir.

"How was your holiday, Hermione? Did you do anything special?" She had directed all of her attention to the other girl; her hands crossed in her lap and an excited smile on her face. Hermione had nearly forgotten the girl's existence over the summer.

Their trip continued just as uneventfully, Daphne talked Hermione to sleep while Draco and Blaise argued about quidditch.

The week was dull, that is until Hermione found the Potter boy alone with the youngest male Weasley near the lake. She couldn't help the malicious thoughts that filled her head. The twins had chosen to tag along on her little walk and she thought now would be the perfect time to test their loyalty. The little Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, just like all of the Weasleys before him, excluding the twins of course. Their relation to the loud mouth twerp wouldn't save him from her sharp tongue.

"Are you love birds enjoying yourselves?" The "Chose One" seemed distressed and his red headed pal was nearly as frazzled. Potter's poorly made robes hung off of his thin frame and his hair was a mess that she couldn't begin to comprehend. The little Weasley wore hand-me-down robes, similar to the twins, though his were adorned with the red and gold of Griffindor rather than the mighty green and silver of Slytherin.

"Leave us alone Black." Potter whispered. He looked exhausted, but his sullen expression only made Hermione hungrier for his suffering.

"And why should she?" George laughed as Fred pushed an angry Ronald Weasley to the ground.

"She doesn't have to listen to a dirty halfblood." Fred grabbed Potter by the back of his collar and dragged him to the edge of the lake. With a swift push the green eyed boy was soaked through and resembled a drowned cat.

"Hey! Get away from him or I'll tell mum!" The little Weasley tried to get around George, but his brother was much stronger than him after spending the previous school year playing lackey for Hermione.

"Keep your blood traitor mouth shut!" Fred yelled.

"You shouldn't be making friends with filth." George sneered as he dragged his younger brother to the water's edge as well. He dropped him into the deepest part and laughed as his head broke the surface. The little Weasley sputtered and wheezed as he tried to paddle back to shore and keep his hair out of his face.

Hermione didn't need to say a word, the twins were her loyal servants and she would treat them as such from now on. She loved the melancholy expression on the two first years' faces, there was nothing worse than being betrayed by your flesh and blood.

"Good job boys." The red heads beamed at the praise and followed after her like loyal dogs.