This was actually the start of a very complicated plot that never got to the good bits. I found it while going through my bunnies folder and decided it is extremely unlikely to ever get finished - sorry.
Tap, tap, tap.
Hermione woke from her light sleep with a start. Something had woken her; a noise out of place in her second story bedroom. The glowing hands of her old-fashioned clock showed it was just past three in the morning. She lay still; slowly drifting back to sleep wondering if it was her imagination, but then the noise happened again.
Tap, tap, tap.
It was coming from the closed window. Something was tapping on the window, so soft that she almost believed she had imagined it. Only the fact she was still not sleeping properly made it loud enough to wake her.
Repeating dreams of Harry's horrifying return at the end of the Triwizard Tournament with Cedric's corpse, still kept her from a solid night's sleep, even two weeks after the event. She hoped returning home to her parents for the summer holidays would help put the images behind her, but a week so far proved to be not nearly enough.
Hermione grabbed her wand from under the pillow and slowly rose from the bed, trying as hard as possible to make no noise. She walked carefully to the side of the window, making sure avoid being directly in front of it.
Carefully, she ducked down and angled herself to be able to see through gaps in the curtain, uncertain why she was being so paranoid, but determined to take Professor Moody's 'Constant Vigilance' warning to heart, despite the fact he had turned out to be a Death Eater in disguise.
Still, that in itself proved a point, didn't it?
Through the gap, she could see nothing except the bright moonlit sky. She waited for a few seconds, forcing herself not to just stand up and go back to bed. The hand of her clock ticked away seemingly as loudly as her heart was pounding in her chest. Still, as time dragged on, and nothing moved outside her window, Hermione relaxed. Maybe it was just the house creaking.
That was when a gust of wind moved the branches of a nearby tree, and caught the edge of an invisibility cloak to show Harry Potter leaning out over his broom to knock on her window with his knuckles.
Tap, tap, tap.
Forgetting her earlier caution, Hermione leapt to her feet and tore the window open before Harry had a chance to cover himself again.
"Harry!" she whispered fiercely. "What are you doing? Why aren't you at your house? Professor Dumbledore told me you had to stay there for a month at least and you didn't want us to write, and now you show up in the middle of the night knocking on my window? What's going on?"
The look on Harry's face did not escape Hermione's noticed. He looked scared, angry, and quite surprised.
"Hermione, you have to trust me. Come with me. Get on my broom," he said.
"What? What's going on?"
"Listen, we don't have much time; they'll be here soon. You have to trust me Hermione. Come with me now or it will be too late. I'll explain later."
Hermione's paranoia suddenly went into overdrive.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on," she said, gripping the wand by her side tightly. "Come inside where nobody can see you and we can talk."
"There's no time!" Harry said, his voice raising before he could get it back under control.
They both foolishly looked around to make sure nobody heard them.
"There's no time, Hermione. We've got to go now."
"Go? Go where?" she said stubbornly.
Something was definitely wrong. She needed time to sort it out.
"Anywhere away from here," he said. "Please, Hermione. You've got to trust me."
"Harry, I can't just up and leave in the middle of the night. What if my parents discover I am missing? They'd be frantic-"
"They're not your parents!" Harry hissed.
Suddenly multiple loud cracks, like several cars backfiring, rang out through the neighbourhood. Dogs from a dozen houses started howling their protest and a few voices called out, trying to quieten them down.
"It's too late, they're here. Please forgive me, Hermione. Imperio!"
A blissful feeling of contentment settled on Hermione, taking away all of her foolish worries and concerns. She heard a distant voice telling her to climb out of the window and climb onto the hovering broom in front of Harry. Normally such a task would leave her shaking with fear, but under the wonderful influence of the spell, she didn't hesitate, and within minutes they were tearing through the sky, invisibility cloak covering as much of them as possible.
When asked, she suggested they go to a nearby motel she had once stayed at while her house was fumigated. It wasn't the most upmarket place, but it had been an adventure for the girl when she was eight that had never left her memory.
For a brief second, her mind cleared a bit, and she recognised Harry off in the distance casting the Imperius Curse on the person manning the night desk, but it didn't bother her for long enough to register properly.
An undetermined but blissful time later, Hermione suddenly came back to herself.
Harry was standing three feet in front of the bed she was sitting on, his wand pointing directly at her. Realisation of what had just happened came flooding in, and blinding rage rushed out to meet it.
"HARRY!" she yelled, standing up. "WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?"
Harry took an involuntary backwards.
"Please, Hermione, I had to. A few seconds more and they would have had you," he stuttered.
"You, you, you animal! You used an unforgivable on me!"
"I had no choice!" he yelled back. "Please, just give me a chance to explain."
"Where's my wand?" Hermione asked, realising for the first time she was dressed only in a pair of pyjamas.
"It's here," said Harry, holding up the familiar stick.
"Give it to me," she demanded, holding out her hand.
"I, I can't," he said. "I can't take the risk."
"Give it to me right now!" she said again.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but you have to listen to me. I can't give you your wand because if you cast any spell the Ministry will be able to track you."
"Give. Me. My. Wand. NOW!"
"No."
She flew at him, her rage overwhelming any thought of her safety. Harry hesitated, and lost his chance to cast a spell to stop her. Her slight frame was easily a match for his smaller, almost skeletal one, and rage gave her strength. Screaming incoherently, she tackled him to the floor, her fists pounding away at him while he tried vainly to cover himself with his hands and arms.
Within seconds, his face was covered in blood, but Hermione felt rage like never before, and kept punching with all of her might.
"No!" yelled Harry suddenly. There was loud bang, and Hermione felt herself flying through the air and colliding painfully with the wall.
When she woke again, she was lying on the bed, her head cradled in Harry's lap. He was rocking backwards and forwards whispering the same thing over and over again.
"I'm so sorry. Please be okay. Oh god, please be alright."
She tasted blood in her mouth, but the insane rage of earlier was gone.
"Harry?" she whispered, her voice a painful croak.
"Hermione? I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was accidental magic, I swear. Please forgive me."
He was rambling. Tears were running down his blood-covered face.
"Harry, tell me what's going on," she said, surprised by her sudden calm. Somehow, the sight of him so upset overrode any other feelings she had.
He sniffed and made a visible effort to get control of himself.
"It was Sirius," he said. "He came to me and told me what was going on. I think they might have him, but I'm not sure. I had to get you out, even if it meant putting you in danger. I just couldn't let them keep using you like that."
He was still rambling.
"Harry, you are not making any sense," she said. "Go clean yourself up and then start from the beginning."
Harry nodded and helped her sit up. A stab of pain lanced through her head, leaving a massive headache. Her hand went to the sore spot automatically and came away covered in blood.
"I am so sorry," he said.
"So you've already said," she answered acidly, wincing in pain as she spoke. "This had better be the story of a lifetime, or you are going to pay, Mr Potter."
"Hang on," Harry said grabbing a bag from the table near the bed. He dug around inside, reaching in far deeper than possibly for a purely Muggle item, and took out a small potion bottle.
"Here, drink this," he said holding out the bottle. "It's a headache reliever."
Hermione took it warily.
"It's okay," he added, seeing her hesitation. "I brewed it myself."
Hermione refrained from saying anything in response to that startling revelation, and instead opened the bottle and sniffed the contents. It smelt like every other headache potion -vile.
"Here," said Harry taking it from her grasp. "I can use some myself anyway."
Then he downed about half the vial, and handed it back to her.
Deciding there was nothing for it, Hermione drained the rest. Instantly the pain eased and almost completely disappeared, and surprisingly, the aftertaste wasn't nearly as bad as usual.
Harry stood watching her, indecision obvious on his face.
"Weren't you going to get cleaned up and start explaining why you have kidnapped me?" she asked pointedly.
Harry hesitated again. "I, er, I can't leave you alone," he said, looking sightly embarrassed. "You might try to escape, and knowing you, you will probably succeed."
"That could get a might bit embarrassing, since I need to use the loo," she said. "Or haven't you thought about that yet?"
Harry looked even more uncomfortable.
"What about if I give you my word that I'll wait her for you?" she asked. In reality, she was unsure of exactly what she would do if left alone for a moment. He might be her best friend, but he had used an unforgiveable on her! Something wasn't right.
Harry shook his head sadly. "I've had too many promises broken, Hermione. I'm sorry."
Huffing, she stood up and headed to the bathroom. "Well come on then," she said when he hadn't moved. "I can't hold it all night."
Some time later, they were sitting at the small table, a cup of tea in each of their hands. Harry was finally telling his story, and Hermione realised she wouldn't have left, not without hearing him out first. What she was hearing was bad enough for her to have hesitated even if he insisted she leave right now.
"So after Sirius escaped from Hogwarts, he took Dumbledore's advice and went away to some tropical island somewhere, Tahiti or something I think. He managed to get some money from his vault and hired a mind healer to help him sort himself out - that was his own idea mind you. Dumbledore didn't suggest it or offer any advice at all.
"Anyway, the mind healer starts finding some strange things in his head, Obliviated memories and things, but before Sirius can get them all straight, my name pops out of the Goblet of Fire, and he is on his way back.
"Once he gets here, the Headmaster practically locks him up in that cave, promising to bring him a wand and other things, but nothing really happens. He didn't even get any food, as you know. At that point Sirius is still sorting through his issues, and knows he can't trust his own judgement, so he does what the Headmaster says to do, and sits tight, waiting.
"Next thing he knows, the tournament is over, Cedric is dead, and I'm in the hospital wing, but nobody knows what has happened. He came to me then, and realised that something is completely wrong with the picture Dumbledore painted for him about me.
"Here he was, expecting to find a clone of James Potter, arrogant, confident, and magically powerful, but instead he realises just how short changed I am."
"That's a bit harsh," interrupted Hermione. "He can't expect you to be your father."
"But it's not harsh at all. Dad was a really good wizard, you see. He was a bit of an arse, but he was powerful and talented, although Sirius reckons he was the better of the two, but that's just Sirius.
"And Mum was even more impressive. Without any background at all, she walked into Hogwarts and became the top witch in almost all of her subjects. She had so much control that she had mastered wandlessly levitating objects, including herself, before even setting foot in Hogwarts.
"A couple of magically powerful people like that would never, could never produce somebody who is almost a Squib, by comparison."
"Genetics don't work that way-"
"Hermione, genetics don't mean anything; this is magic we are talking about, it always works that way. That's what all this pureblood crap is based on. Powerful parents produce powerful children. Squibs are a freak of magic, as are strong Muggleborn children."
"Like me?" she asked.
"Er, not quite. I'll get to that in a minute, okay? Anyway, the point is Dumbledore has been lying to Sirius, letting him think I was a very different person. Sirius had a hint of it in the letters I sent him, which Dumbledore had advised against, I might add, but seeing me in the hospital and hearing what had happened opened Sirius's eyes.
"When Dumbledore sent him off to contact other people, Sirius pretended to go do his bidding, but instead started sneaking around investigating what was really happening.
Padfoot wasn't back in shape after twelve years locked away, but he had recovered enough to start putting together some bits of the puzzle.
The breakthrough came when he suddenly 'remembered' his parent's house. It's been empty for years, apparently, but it has a magical family tree of the black family on it, and there were several books on wizarding families there. Sirius's folks were all pureblood fanatics, you see, and kept up to date with the who's who of the magical world.
"Anyway, Sirius overcame the memory block and went home. He saw the family tree and found where the Blacks intertwine with the Potters. That's when he could recall more about James's parents. James was born very late in his parent's lives, well into their sixties, can you believe, so everybody thinks he was an only child, because he didn't have any brothers or sisters anywhere near his age.
"This thing is, he did have brothers and sisters, all much older than him, which is why he was so spoilt. Sirius couldn't understand how this information had been lost, or how I could end up at my Muggle auntie's house when I had wizarding relations on my father's side. He did some more digging and discovered just about all of my relatives mysteriously disappeared or died over the years.
"At least one other of my father's family noticed this too, and made an effort to escape whatever blight was exterminating the Potter line. They turned to the one person who was most likely to be able to help them, Albus Dumbledore, but he failed to save them, with only one child somehow surviving a house fire that claimed the last of my father's relatives.
"Guess who then swept in and took away the child, to be raised in seclusion from the magical world, supposedly for their own safety? Yep, Albus Dumbledore.
"Hermione, Dumbledore has been manipulating all of us, you and me especially, for most of our lives. Your name is not Hermione Jean Granger, and you were not born to the Muggles you call your parents.
"I think, I think you are Hermione Jane Potter, and you are my cousin."
Hermione stared blankly at Harry. Her mind, usually so adept, was having difficulty coming to grips with her current situation and the story her best friend was telling her.
First, he had shown up in the middle of the night and cast an unforgivable curse on her, then he had kidnapped her and flown to a motel, and now he had just quietly informed her most of what she thought she knew about her life was lie.
"Your cousin?" she asked, somewhat stupidly.
If it had been anybody except Harry, she would have laughed in their face, but it was Harry, and even though her first instinct was to think it absurd, there must be a reason for him to think it.
"I know what you are thinking," said Harry, before Hermione could say a word. "You probably think I've misunderstood something and gotten the wrong end of the wand, but I can prove it, well some of it.
"Here," he said, digging into a very deep pocket – too deep to be un-magical in fact. "These are copies of Sirius's notes and the books he took them from. There are pictures of the tapestry and the relevant pages so you can see for yourself."
With a bit of difficulty, Harry extracted and handed over a large folder, stuffed full of various papers and photographs and held together with string.
"This is -", began Hermione, taking the stack even as she spoke.
"Crazy? Yeah I know, but it gets worse," said Harry, a crooked smile on his face. "Have you ever wondered why I can do things like cast a great Patronus, but then take two weeks to master a simple spell like Accio?"
Hermione paused, unsure if her normally disparaging comments about Harry's attitude to study were the right thing to say now, but Harry continued without waiting for confirmation.
"It's because something was leeching off my magic, leaving me not much better than a Squib most of the time. It's not until I get really fired up that I can overcome the drain and actually get my magic working the way it should."
"What would do that?" asked Hermione, unable to stop herself. "It's not like you are carrying around a magic-sink or anything, are you?"
Harry smiled.
"Three actually."
"What?" Hermione almost yelled, her automatic concern for Harry's well-being overriding any other worries. "What – how - who - why?"
"Voldemort's the first one, of course," said Harry bitterly, tapping his scar. "The night he tried to kill me, something went wrong, and he linked us together. Turns out it's my magic keeping him alive."
"That's horrible!"
"Oh, it wouldn't be that bad, except that as I get stronger, so does he. Stupid bugger probably doesn't realise it, since he tried to kill me a few times, but the longer I am around, the more powerful he'll get."
The package of Sirius's fell unnoticed to the floor as Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.
"Then there are the blood-wards at Privet Drive," added Harry, almost casually ignoring her shock. "Good old Dumbledore apparently made a bit of a meal out of altering the magic mum used to protect me, although it wouldn't surprise me if he done it on purpose, to keep ol' Voldy down. You see I am powering the wards with my magic, alone, and directly.
"Don't ask me to explain it, because I don't understand it all, but it kind of works like a Fidelus charm, you know what that is, right?"
Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak coherently, yet.
"Good. Anyway, it makes a bit of a blind spot when it comes to where I live and my location in general."
Harry gave a rueful laugh, and Hermione forced herself to remain quiet and sit still, hands still covering her mouth. She had never heard Harry talk like this before, and never so openly. He was almost rambling, and she didn't want him to stop, hoping to get some answers to the dozens of questions yammering away inside her head.
"I never wondered why I didn't receive any mail. You know, school letters, junk mail, or anything. Even after I started at Hogwarts, when I found out I was a celebrity, I never thought to ask why I got so little mail. Turns out sending me letters, or going to where I lived, never actually occurs to anybody because of the magic. Can you imagine how much power that must take? Even Sirius could only get close to where I lived, although now that I've met and trusted him, it doesn't affect him anymore.
He appeared not to want to look at Hermione anymore, but cast his glance down on the fallen papers.
"Anyway," Harry continued, in his falsely cheerful voice. "The third drain is the best one, this will crack you up, and you'll never guess. Apparently, all those meals I missed growing up done a bit more than just make me short and skinny.
"I am dying, Hermione. Those bastards starved me so much that the only thing keeping me alive for most of my life is my magic, and I only have a bloody slim chance of lasting another year or two, but the best part is that the reason they treated me like that is because of a curse, a curse somebody cast on the Potter line.
"How's that for a bit of a conversation starter then, eh? You're adopted and I'm on a time limit, and once I'm gone, you'll be next.
"So," he said, staring directly into Hermione's eyes with an unfathomable expression on his face. "You hungry?"
His only answer was the thump she made as she fainted and collapsed on the floor.
"Guess not," said Harry to himself.
#
When Hermione came to, the first thing she was aware of was the hardness of the bed she was laying on. It wasn't the firm support of the chiropractic mattress of her parent's house, or the spongy softness of her Hogwarts' dorm. It was a solid lump of hard rubber, exactly like the ones in the motels she often spend holidays in while travelling the world.
Hard mattresses and stiff, scratchy sheets that often made her sleep in long silk pyjamas, no matter the weather. Yep, she was in a motel, but where?
Abruptly, the memory of recent events came rushing back, making her sit up suddenly. Her rapid movement caused a flurry of activity from the blanket-covered chair directly across from her.
Startled, Harry went to jump to his feet, raising his wand as his eyes roamed wildly about the room. Unfortunately, he became entangled in his blanket and tripped, falling heavily to the floor.
Without hesitation, Hermione leapt for the wand she could see sticking out from under the mess. The moment she scrambled off the bed, a blinding flash of light tossed her back onto the covers.
Stunned, Hermione lay in shock, her mind trying to work out what happened.
"Oh, Merlin, I am so sorry Hermione. Hang on a moment," said Harry, finally getting untangled and rising to his feet.
After a few deft swings of his wand and a muttered incantation, a yellow light blinked around her bed, and then Harry stepped forward, reaching out to touch her gently.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"What was that?" she asked, he voice sounding rough and scratchy to her ears.
"An age line," Harry answered, sounding proud. "I set it up around the bed to make sure you didn't sneak off while I slept. Pretty good, eh?"
"Very impressive," said Hermione sarcastically as she battered away his hand and sat up, swinging her legs off the side of bed.
The room spun around her dizzily for a second.
"I'm sorry, but I can't afford to take a risk that you don't believe me and just ran off to tell Dumbledore what happened," said Harry, sounding genuine.
"So I am a prisoner then?" she asked angrily, her head throbbing with the after effects of Harry's age spell.
She was actually quite impressed that he had managed to cast the charm, something she had only ever seen Professor Dumbledore achieve, but she wasn't going to tell him that; not yet anyway.
Harry looked a bit contrite.
"Only until I can convince you not to run off and get caught," he answered, sounding sorry but determined.
"Great," Hermione said, rubbing her temples. The backlash of the spell was starting to fade, but her headache had returned in full force. "Can I have another headache reliever?"
Harry frowned, but then pulled another small vial from his obviously enlarged backpack and handed it to her, never once turning his back on her or putting his wand away.
"Where did you learn to make these, and cast that age line?" she asked, after downing the surprisingly good potion.
"Sirius," said Harry. "He is an amazing teacher, although a bit brutal. I think he must have spent a lot of time with Moody, the real one that is, because sometimes he sounds just like him, er, or how the fake one sounded when he was pretending to be him, um, I think. You know what I mean, right?"
Hermione smiled in spite of herself.
"Good to see you haven't been wasting your holidays by not studying," she said, trying to sound light hearted.
The effect on Harry's expression was shocking.
"You mean instead of working like a house-elf for the Dursleys I suppose?" he snapped angrily. "You seem to forget I am not allowed to even have my trunk in my room, where I am locked for every moment that I am not doing the garden, cooking the meals or cleaning."
"Locked? In your room? What do you mean?" Hermione asked, scared at the fury apparently ready to explode from Harry.
Harry's face contorted with rage. Hermione could see the muscles in his jaw working hard to keep his mouth clamped shut, possibly to stop him from yelling abuse. Then, all of a sudden, it changed. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Hermione watched in fascination as all of the anger and rage seemed to drain out of Harry and disappear, leaving him calm and apparently perfectly normal.
"Sorry about that," he said, opening his eyes. "I kind of get a bit of feedback from old Voldy, and it pumps me up a lot. He's pretty angry at the moment, probably because his pathetic spy just told him I am missing or something."
"You, you can tell what he is feeling?" Hermione asked.
"Sometimes, if it's strong enough. Mostly it seems to just be making me a lot narkier than I've even been before, but occasionally it really hits me. Hell, sometimes I can see what he is seeing and hear his thoughts too. That's a bad rap, I can tell you!"
"You can read you-know-who's thoughts? That's, that's…"
"Worrying? Disgusting? Scary? Tell me about it!"
"…fantastic. You can spy on him-"
"Oh no. Not on your life. Every second I spend in his head makes me sick. I've already watched him kill people a few times, and he gets off on it. No bloody way am I going to start doing that if I can avoid it. Luckily Occlumency looks like it will help a bit, although I haven't mastered more than the basics so far."
"But you could warn-"
"Who?" interrupted Harry. "In case you didn't notice, Fudge and his idiots don't believe Voldemort is back, and the last thing I am going to do is help Dumbledore and whatever nutcase plans he has going-"
"You still haven't explained what is going on, Harry," said Hermione.
"Sorry, there's a lot of ground to cover, and I'm not really sure where to start," he answered.
Hermione took a deep breath; this was going to be hard.
"Why don't you start with why you think I am adopted, and where Sirius got the crazy idea that I am your cousin," she said, deciding to tackle that before moving onto the topics she knew would be even more emotional. "When did Sirius contact you? When this all start?"
Harry sighed and got himself more comfortable.
"Two days after I got back to the Dursleys," began Harry. "Sirius came to me in the middle of the night. I was surprised because I had just received a letter from him the day before saying he was off on a mission for Dumbledore and would be out of contact for a while…
Over the course of the night, Harry covers a lot of the incidents that have happened to him, pointing out how somebody was manipulating all of them in mostly subtle ways. From a different perspective (Sirius's) it's obviously some sort of plot is underway to apparently eliminate Harry. The final proof is when Harry tests positive for some behaviour modifying potions.
Hermione listens, pointing out flaw in his argument and providing possible counter-explanations, until she is finally convinced. One by one, they go through the list people who could be dosing him up.
"No, Hermione," said Harry. "Mrs Weasley's fudge must have been tampered with after she made it. Besides, there is no way she could have been getting a potion to me all year. It had to be somebody who had access to my food and drink for most of the year. Somebody who could touch my plate or cup regularly without me noticing."
"There is nobody else, Harry," said Hermione. "We've eliminated everybody."
"Not everybody," said Harry looking up and straight into her eyes. "There's still you."
Eventually it comes out Hermione is sort of a sleeper agent. The Black family cast out one of their own who married a squib and went Muggle, and Hermione is a descendant.
They cast the curse on the main branch and have been working at eliminating all of it's members so they can retake the mantle. Harry is targeted since Sirius's godfather status meant automatic adoption on James and Lily's death.
Hermione's alter ego does most of the dirty work, leaving her Muggle personality 'innocent'. There is a bit of overlap, which is why she knows so much and is sometimes very scary.
Harry's accusation wakes up the black!hermione. She tricks and overcomes him, only to be stunned by Sirius who was hiding in the room under the invisibility cloak the whole time, just in case something like this happened.
The end scene is Harry and Sirius trying to Obliviate the black!hermione personality.