~.~.~.~.~.~

July, 1997

The Granger Home, Lingfield, Surrey

.~.~.~.~.~

The next pass into unconsciousness came the night Hermione had been made to cast a Memory Charm on her parents.

After she set Monica and Wendell Wilkins' packed bags by the door and placed the one-way tickets she'd purchased to Australia in her mum's purse, she'd said her good-byes from a distance, not willing to get any closer to them to avoid leaving any trace of herself (her scent or her magical resonance) on their person. She'd whispered her wishes for a good, long life to them, told them she'd always love them while holding back tears, and then she'd walked out the front door, locking it behind and leaving their unconscious forms on the sofa.

As she walked to the Lingfield railway station now, careful to stay out from under the street lamps and sticking to the shadows, Hermione tried to keep up a brave face to avoid from calling any unwanted attention should anyone pass her by. Crippling regret and a deep, lonely ache burrowed into her soul, and with every step away from her home that she took, she felt more and more like one of those panicked, lost children in a department store, worried of being completely abandoned by her parents and stricken with the knowledge that she would be forever alone.

She was now utterly without family in the world. Her parents would be alive, yes, but they would not remember her as being theirs. The False Memory Charm she'd used wasn't an Obliviation spell – it didn't permanently erase memories. Instead, it simply stored new ones on top of old ones, covering up the old memories and replacing them with the false memories. It was reversible, thank heavens, but the problem with it was the longer it was allowed to stay in place, the more irate and confused the victim would be later when the false memories were removed and they were faced with the fact that what they'd believed so strongly was all a lie. As she had no way of knowing how long the war would drag on, Hermione wondered if it wouldn't just be kinder to her parents when the war ended to leave the charm in place and to never see them again. Perhaps the life they would lead as 'Monica' and 'Wendell' would be a better, happier one than the one they had lead as Helen and Richard Granger.

The sadness that thought conjured overwhelmed her, and by the time she'd made it to the station, she'd had to walk around the side of the brick building to hide her tears. The scent of cigarette smoke was strong here, and she noted a small stainless steel receptacle placed to the side that was filled with sand and crushed fags. The tobacco scent reminded her a bit of Ral, and how their last episode had ended.

He was real, wasn't he? She wasn't going insane, was she? This last time she hadn't woken up in a bed or sleeping against the wall in a stairwell. Instead, she'd been awake, sitting in the same position, never having moved from her spot on the grass, so that had to mean he wasn't a product of dreams, didn't it?

If it had been real, then Ral was a Death Eater – a soldier in Voldemort's army. A man who'd vowed to wipe her and her family off the face of the Earth. He was her sworn enemy.

That awful truth made her cry even harder.

As she hugged her arms around her middle to hold back the worst of her sobs, she suddenly felt rather dizzy. Leaning against the brick, she wiped a hand across her eyes.

~.~.~

Hermione blinked.

~.~.~

The familiar statues of winged boars situated atop two columns to either side of a tall, wrought-iron gate sent her into 'panic mode'. How in the name of Merlin's white beard had she gotten outside the Main Entrance of Hogwarts?

"Shit, it worked!"

She turned about, recognising the voice behind her. "Ral? What did you do?" she asked, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a shaky hand.

Before she could understand his intent and dodge it, Ral had her up in his arms and was spinning her around, whooping in triumph. Hermione clung to his strong shoulders and dropped her face into the cradle of his throat, closing her eyes tight against the dizzying blurring of the landscape. His skin and clothing smelled of his habitual liquorice and sweet cloves.

"Stop," she commanded him. "Please, put me down."

Immediately, the twirling ended, and she was set on her feet. Ral continued to hold her to him, however, hugging her with great enthusiasm. "I woke up from a sound sleep in my bed at home tonight after dreaming about us meeting out here, Hermione. I just knew I was supposed to come, no matter that it's the middle of the night. I got dressed, and Disapparated from my home in Corsham. I've been hanging around waiting for you to show – just finished a clove in fact." He let out a deep, contented sigh. "It's just like I dreamed. You're with me again."

His summer coat was scratchy against her cheek, but he was warm against the chilly night air. "I was at a Muggle train station in Surrey. I don't understand this at all. I'm not Disapparating or Porting over. There's no feeling of being squeezed, no crack of thunder. I blink, and suddenly I'm transported over five-hundred miles away." She shivered with a strange dread. "How is this possible? It defies every law of magic and Muggle science."

Ral tenderly ran his fingers through her long hair, careful not to get his fingers snagged. "I don't care how it happened. You're with me again. That's all I need to get through this."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her sixth sense tingling. Leaning back, she met his eye. "What's going on?"

His smiled dropped away.

"Tell me," she gently prompted.

It took Ral two stops and starts before the truth came out. "Two nights ago, my father was killed by a member of your Order."

Hermione went stone still, shocked by the news.

"That's why I was home. I've been helping Mother arrange things." Ral nervously ran his hands up and down her arms, as if assuring himself she was really there with him in that moment. "They said someone named Longbottom killed him. They're talking revenge, and they all expect my brother and me to carry it out."

"Longbottom? As in Neville?" True, she hadn't kept tabs on all of the Order members since Dumbledore's funeral the month before, but surely she would have heard something through the grapevine about Neville killing, wouldn't she? Or maybe it had been his grandmother instead? The woman was known to have a wicked temper and a fast wand, despite her advanced age and poor eyesight. "Wait, who's 'all'?"

When Ral didn't explain further, Hermione instinctively knew what he wasn't saying.

"You haven't taken the deal yet, have you?"

He let her go, stepping back and wiping at his eyes. "No, I haven't taken the bloody deal, Hermione," he said, glowering at her.

"Why not?" she demanded.

His hands visibly shook as he pushed his bangs off his face. His hair was longer than when they'd first met, and needed a cut. "I'm not sure I can. It's not as easy a situation as you think."

She threw her hands into the air. "Why are you at all conflicted? You admitted you didn't share You-Know-Who's world view, and that he's evil. It's obviously in your best interests to leave him. So, what's keeping you from saying 'yes' to the deal, Ral? Why are you holding back?" As he wavered in giving a response, Hermione attempted a softer approach to coax the answers from him. "Please help me to understand why we can't be together."

Some of the tension left him and he seemed to open up, encouraged by her willingness to listen to his side. Taking her hands, he drew her close and finally shared his secrets with her.

"It's my big brother," he admitted, for the first time being completely forthright. "There's six years between Rolph and me, but we were close growing up. He'd always watch over me, keep others from bullying me, and he stood up for me when no one else would. For years and years, I looked up to him, Hermione. When I got into Hogwarts, though, he was in his seventh year and already mixed-up with the Death Eaters. He took the Mark the night of his graduation. I was there, watched what he'd become after that and... well, we drifted apart."

He dropped one of her hands and rubbed the back of his neck. "But here's the thing: Rolph needs me now. See, he's all brawn, little brains. There's no forethought in his decisions, and he has absolutely no will to say 'no' when it comes to trouble. He's a blind follower."

"If he's chosen his path, then why–?" Hermione began to argue. Ral held a hand up, signalling she should wait and let him finish before asking him questions. She gave him the benefit of the doubt and shut her mouth, listening to his tale.

"My brother has really only been blessed with three merits in this life: his brute strength, being the eldest son and therefore entitled to our family's vast fortune, and a dogged allegiance to upholding tradition, specifically, devotion to his family. I love Rolph, but if I was to be totally honest, he's the product of my father's narrow-minded brainwashing and my mother's viciousness. He never really had a chance to say 'no' to their legacy, and he's just not smart enough to realise that following their example is digging his grave. I joined the D.E. for him – to interject a little sanity and influence… to try to keep him alive. Now that my father's dead-" his voice snagged on the word, "-Rolph's wife will certainly take the place of the authority figure in his life. I know her – can't stand the woman, honestly. She whispers like a spider in your ear, poisoning you. Rolph's completely devoted to her, mostly because he's easily led around by his meat. Without Father to interject and overrule her, I don't think my brother will make it out of this war alive – unless I'm there to take up my father's vacant place in Rolph's life."

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him, as he seemed on the verge of an emotional meltdown. "I think it's a very brave and honourable thing you're doing, Ral, but your brother is a grown man. You can't be responsible for saving him from himself. If he chooses to do evil and gets punished or killed for it, that's not your fault – nor is it your burden to carry. It's like I keep telling my best friend, Harry: you can't save everyone. All you can do in this world is to try to do the right thing."

Ral shook his head. Clearly, his sibling's poor choices and how they affected their entwined future was a frustrating conundrum for him. "Rolph's the one who taught me how to ride a broom and to skip rocks. He used to read me to sleep when I was little, and he took beatings from the other kids for me when we were children. My father was rarely around when I was growing up, and when he was, there were never any kind words or encouraging gestures from him. My mother was an affectionless Ice Queen, who cared only about status and power. Rolph was the only one who showed me any love or affection. He was my best friend – my only friend, until Hogwarts." Tears streamed freely down his ruddy cheeks as he warred with himself over the issue. "Hermione, he was there for me when I was afraid and needed someone to be good to me. Even though he's changed, I want to be here for him in the same way now." He reached up and took her hand from him, entwining their fingers. "So, what if the right thing for me to do now is to stay where I am, and to try to convince Rolph to switch sides with me? What if that's my path?"

Hermione stared at this lonely, good man and felt her heart break for him. His loyalty to his brother was commendable. She also feared it would spell his doom.

She turned his hand over, popped the button on his cuff, and slowly raised the sleeve of his dress shirt to bare his Dark Mark to her sight. Even in the semi-darkness, with only the moon to light the world around them, the Mark stood out as a stark, bleak tattoo against the backdrop of his pale flesh.

"Don't touch it," he gently warned her.

Her throat tightened at the sight of the sinister-looking tattoo. He'd taken the Mark not for himself, but for his brother. "I've heard that once you get the Mark, it's forever."

He sniffed in sad amusement. "The things you do for love, yeah?"

Tears wavered in Hermione's vision. "Oh, Ral." The lengths he'd gone through to protect Rolph were extreme, yes, but then she considered the lengths she'd gone through to protect her parents – namely, she'd broken wizarding law in casting a Memory Charm on them, and that was punishable by imprisonment, too. It was for that reason she couldn't condemn Ral for not wanting to immediately abandon his place in Voldemort's army. He was doing what he believed was the right thing.

"What would it take to convince you to accept the offer and join me in the Order?" she asked, hot tears dripping down her cheeks.

Ral dropped her hand as if burned, and quickly rolled his shirt sleeve back down over the Mark, covering it up once more. "After everything I've said, you still want to negotiate my turning traitor against my brother?" He sounded angry and disappointed.

"No, not that," she explained. "I understand what he means to you now, and what you're trying to accomplish. What I'm asking is: what do you need from me to get out from under You-Know-Who's thumb with Rolph."

Ral looked like a man daring to hope again. "You would do that for me? Why?"

Reaching up, she brushed his dark bangs to the side. "You said I was drawn to you for a reason. Maybe this is it."

He took her in his arms once more. "Any plan you think will work, I'll follow. You help me save Rolph, and I'll be your spy."

Sliding her arms around his neck, Hermione reached up on tiptoe, stretching her face towards his in a silent plea for a kiss. She felt brazen, daring just then. "Is that all you want?"

His eyes rounded with astonishment. "You never cease to surprise me, my sweet girl," he murmured, smirking. Lowering his mouth, he slid his bottom lip against hers. "What would you say to me demanding you as part of the bargain?"

Hermione stared into the heart of him as she sealed her fate. "I'd accept your terms."

"Promise?" he whispered, while sipping from her lips with small kisses.

"Yes."

"Good." He dragged her to her knees with him, and laid her back into the soft, green grass just to the side of the main path, under the shadow of the great wall. There, against the refuge of the stone, his body blanketed hers, their curves and angles matching in a perfect fit. Capturing Hermione's mouth, Ral hypnotized her senses with drugging kisses. With gentle fingers, he explored the texture of her hair, followed the pulse in her throat, and traced the shape of her features. Each caress was electric, inciting a hum that travelled the length of her spine, rousing her whole body with pleasurable, little shivers... and making her ache for more.

"Touch me here," she begged him, gripping his hand and directing it under the hem of her shirt. "Please."

Proceeding with soothing strokes over her abdomen, Ral slowly worked his way up her body until his hand cupped her breast. Hermione arched into his warm palm with an unrestrained moan of delight.

"Not that I'm complaining, but how is it possible no one else has discovered your beauty yet?" he asked, speaking low. He circled her nipple through her bra, pinching and rolling the tightening bud between his thumb and forefinger, watching her as he easily manipulated her body.

Hermione's breath hitched. "No one else sees me like you do," she admitted, feeling her cheeks pink from embarrassment. "I... I don't mean to sound self-pitying. That's not... What I mean is, well, I'm 'the study partner', not 'the Friday night date'. And honestly, I'm perfectly fine with that scenario. I'm not very comfortable with being touched, except by my parents and my best friends. And you."

He chuckled, and bent to kiss her lips again. "I'd say I'm rather lucky, then."

"Is this luck or is there really such a thing as fate?" she wondered aloud, feathering her fingers through Ral's soft hair and tipped her mouth higher for him to take and ravish.

~.~.~

Hermione blinked.

~.~.~

She was crouched against the brick wall of the Lingfield Train Station. Behind her, the sound of a train pulling out was a loud rumble.

"Ral," she whispered as tears leaked down her cheeks and she fought against the violent wave of depression that swamped over her emotions as she lost him again. She bowed her head, ran her fingers through her hair and tugged. "Oh, Merlin, I am going insane!"

The voice over the intercom calling the next train's arrival cut through her despair, and it struck her then that she was wasting precious time sitting here when she should be on the move. If the enemy discovered that Lingfield was her hometown, they would come here and take her prisoner, most likely kill everything in sight until their blood thirst was quenched, all to lure Harry out into the open. She couldn't afford to spend even a precious few minutes feeling sorry for herself.

Solidifying her resolve to do this one thing to protect those she loved, Hermione stood on shaky knees, wiped the tears from her face, and reached into her enchanted beaded bag for her Muggle wallet. Money in hand, she bought a ticket and left Surrey as quickly as possible, taking one of the late trains to Barnstaple – a nine and a half-hour ride away, which would get her close enough to Ottery St. Catchpole and The Burrow, where she, Ron, and Harry had planned to stay for Bill's wedding.

Whether Ral (if he was real at all) took the deal Dumbledore had offered him before his death remained to be seen. Hermione could only hope he would. Should she alert the other Order members to be on the look-out for his note, however, just in case?

She debated the issue in her head for hours as the train rolled across the countryside, stopping here and there at various stations where she had to get off and make changes to get to her final destination. In the end, she'd decided that she would keep all information about Ral to herself. Alarming Molly or Arthur to some strange, possibly imagined magical connection to a Death Eater would only have her put under house lock-down by Remus or Moody, and ithat/i would jeopardize her secret mission to hunt down Horcruxes with her two best friends after the wedding – something she absolutely couldn't chance. She wouldn't risk sending Harry and Ron off alone on such a dangerous quest, because Merlin knew what sort of trouble her two boys would get into without her there to pull them out of the fire.

For the time being, Ral would remain her secret.


TO BE CONTINUED...


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Hermione's getting in deeper with Ral with each passing visit. Will she be able to help him escape his fate as a Death Eater, or will she be forced to face-off against him in the war?

Please review!