Veil of Gray

Her mother's necklace stopped working the summer before Fourth year.

Hermione had wrapped her hands around the pendant on habit, but the runes did not glow.

It had been a strangely painful blow, considering she had always known that the magic would not last.

The necklace was her mother's last magical presence, and though it would not be able to protect her anymore from her father or the Ministry's tracking, Hermione still decided to keep it around her neck as a physical reminder of Lillian.

Thankfully, she had been able to set up wards around her childhood home before the last of the magic had left the necklace. Now that she had Slytherin's locket, it was imperative she keep it undetected, and at the same time ensure her Muggle parents were safe, especially since she would be leaving soon for the new year.

Hermione had little interest in Quidditch, but she was looking forward to the Quidditch World Cup. People from all different magical worlds would be in attendance and the stadium itself was said to be huge and filled with important people.

On the day they were set to go, she arrived at the Burrow and greeted Harry and the Weasley family. She was glad that Molly would not be joining them. As for the rest of the Weasley's, she liked Ginny well enough, the twins were entertaining especially with their proclivity to pick on Ron, and she found Arthur Weasley to be a nice man considering his strange fascination with all things Muggle.

Their group took a Portkey to Dartmoor, where a vast campsite was set up, not far from the stadium. As they made their way to their seats, it was unfortunate luck that they happened upon Draco and Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione found herself paying extra attention to the Malfoy heir, finding his formal all black outfit strange. Compared to Harry and Ron, even herself, he looked…neat. That was all she'd give him—that and her envy that his seat was in the Minister's box where he'd probably be able to meet many impressive witches and wizards.

No matter, Hermione forced herself to focus on the match. It wasn't too hard given the fanfare and dramatics of the game – as well as the fact that Harry and Ron would grab her and shake her every time a team scored. In the end the Bulgarians put up a good fight, but it was Ireland who clinched the win.

Celebrations did not last long, however. It started with exclamations, then shouts, and then people were running. Hermione barely had time to realize what was happening, until a full on riot broke out in the campsite at the news that they were being attacked. By Death Eaters.

A chilling feeling overcame her. She saw a glimpse of people in hoods and masks, then Harry grabbed her hand, and they were running. Somehow their group got separated among the chaos.

People pushed and bumped past them, curses flew over their heads, until they made it to the near forest. Once again they were met with the sight of Malfoy, who looked completely at ease watching the scene at the campsite. Words were exchanged, which Hermione barely registered, too distressed at the sickening acts she had witnessed.

"Do you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around...they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

Draco was looking at her, a cruel smirk on his face and all she felt was pity.

One day he would realize that his father was not as strong or true as he thought him to be. In a strange way, if she stopped her own father from coming back, she would prevent Malfoy from ever realizing the cold reality of the path he so obviously wanted.

Malfoy's expression faltered at her blank stare, but it was back soon enough when Harry and Ron jumped to her defense. Hermione pulled them away not wanting to waste their time with Malfoy. They skirted along the edge of the forest, looking for Arthur when a scream rang out through the area.

Everyone froze in their place. She wasn't sure what it was, but it compelled her to look up. There in the night sky was the smoky green image of a terrifying skull with a snake twisted around it.

The attack caused a wave of fearful whispers and quiet buzz, but returning to Hogwarts for the new year, it was the arrival of the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students that seemed to enrapture most students' attentions.

Harry and Ron glanced at each other in excitement when they spotted the famed Viktor Krum at the Welcoming Feast. Hermione herself, was glad to have the new additions on account of her curiosity about how other wizarding schools worked in comparison to Hogwarts—especially Durmstrang what with their supposed affiliation with the Dark Arts.

Dumbledore began his welcoming speech in which he elaborated on the Triwizard Tournament.

Hermione listened in alarm. Considering the eventful circumstances that Hogwarts seemed to be afflicted with every year and the fact that contestants had died participating in the challenges, she didn't understand how anyone thought it was a good idea to host such a thing.

Not to mention the professors and the Ministry had proved already that they were woefully incapable of preventing something terrible from happening again.

But that wasn't even the worst of what Dumbledore had apparently planned for them. She was shocked when he made another announcement stating that their new professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts would be Alastor Moody.

Even in Snape's memory, she remembered how unhinged the man had seemed. Mad-Eye Moody, one of her housemates called him - and Hermione suddenly got a very bad feeling about the troubles that awaited them that year.

In the end she didn't have to wait long to find out.

She had been right.

Professor Moody was clearly deranged.

The very first lesson he taught their class was about the three Unforgiveable curses. Not that she had a problem with that.

In fact, Hermione supported not just the teaching of defense against the Dark Arts, but the Dark Arts themselves.

The spells she had witnessed at the Quidditch World Cup had terrified her. There were some things she had seen that she had never even known were possible. But magic - even the terrifying aspects of it should not be hidden or shied away from. In her opinion, learning of such things would arm them with a knowledge that would prepare them and make them better duelists.

What Hermione did have a problem with however, was the fear that Moody instilled while he taught. She was not the only one who felt the eerie, almost manic way in which their professor behaved when he demonstrated the curses to the class.

The glint in his eye made her believe that he was half-susceptible to using it on one of them. And clearly, he had been itching to point his wand at someone, the unfortunate victim being Malfoy, only a couple days later.

She listened with a half smile, half grimace as Ron recounted the story about their classmate being turned into a ferret and jerked around in the air. It was completely unprofessional, possibly dangerous, and perhaps even a touch over the line though she did not know Moody well enough to be sure.

Hermione tried not to let herself dwell on Moody too much. There was so much more she needed to focus on. Though Slytherin's locket was safe at home, locked and warded away, there was still an unknown amount of her father's horcruxes to be found. But she had no leads, aside from what her mother left her, and she had little time at all to sneak into Dumbledore's office.

She was too busy worrying over Harry.

Of course, someone had to put Harry's name in the goblet, and of course, Dumbledore and the rest of the adults decided, despite Harry not being of age or having willingly volunteered, to make him participate anyway.

If that wasn't enough, almost the entire school had turned on Harry. She supposed from a stranger's perspective, if they had enough time on their hands, they would think up that Harry was given special treatment or that he had done it for attention—but Ron, at least, should have known better.

Hermione never thought she'd actually prefer when Harry and Ron were friends. But she did, if nothing else, but because that meant Ron was not solely focused on her. She was forced to listen to him moon over Viktor Krum and Quidditch, and how Harry was in the wrong for not even telling them about his plan, even though she had already explained that it had not been Harry who put his name in.

If she was Harry, she would keep a closer eye on Ron. His reaction did not bode well for their future if he continued to get jealous or feel inferior because of Harry's spotlight.

At least Ron had managed to pull his head out of his arse long enough to warn Harry about the first task.

Dragons.

Hermione had shook her head when she heard it.

It was as if the professors were trying to kill their students.

Hermione became well aware of Viktor Krum as the school year went on.

His attempts at catching her eye whenever they passed each other in the halls or following her to the library to stare, had not gone unnoticed, partly because he was not very good at being discreet, but also because of the giggling and sighing that seemed to follow wherever he went.

Hermione ignored him.

She didn't think she had a type—things like boys and crushes had only just started to cross her mind, but if she had ever considered a type, she was sure Viktor Krum would not be it.

Tall, strong, and broody. He was handsome, in a brawny, very masculine type of way and older than her, though she found he lacked the one appeal that an age gap would bring.

Intellect.

Having a conversation with Viktor felt entirely one-sided.

He would nod and listen, but the look in his eyes told her he barely understood when she talked about how she had decoded a complex numerical chart in Arithmancy or found a particularly compelling piece of magical history.

Still, unlike many, he listened. The effort was appreciated, coupled with his charming looks and kind demeanor it was not hard for her to accept when he asked her to the Yule Ball.

Hermione stayed tight-lipped about Viktor, as well as the preparations for the dance she made, until the night came. It was extremely satisfying when she arrived, in the flattering periwinkle gown she had picked out, her hair in a bun with a few curls framing her face, and Viktor Krum by her side.

Out of all the expressions, Ron's was truly the most amusing.

The looks of shock and awe only grew when Viktor took her hand, and they began the first dance. She had practiced many times, so even with the many eyes on her, she stepped and twirled with ease. Viktor's hand was steady on her back as he led her, grip firm but gentle when he raised her up and spun, eliciting a laugh from her.

The rest of the night continued swimmingly. She didn't even mind that most of the conversations she had with Viktor consisted of helping him pronounce her name correctly. They spent most of the time on the dancefloor, anyway.

When they decided to take a break for some drinks, she went off to Harry and Ron. Hermione was expecting the sore expression on Harry due to his Cho Chang's rejection, but Ron had no right to be upset.

And yet somehow, she found herself arguing with him outside the ballroom. Ron's words would have had no effect on her, but the fact that Harry barely offered her any support during the fight, when he knew Ron was being the git, hurt.

After her ire made the two scamper off, Hermione contemplated simply leaving the ball, but Viktor found her and persuaded her to come back inside.

The Weird Sisters were playing, and there were still quite a few students on the dancefloor, cheering and bobbing up and down with the music. Viktor pulled her towards them, and in a matter of moments, her mood was livened as they danced and sang along.

It was a dwindling crowd but they somehow managed to lose each other in it. Her hair was loose, her heels she had discarded before Viktor had pulled her in, and when she bumped into someone behind her, she laughed and turned to apologize.

The words died in her throat when she realized it was Malfoy. No one else seemed to have noticed. The people around them continued to dance, bumping into her and Malfoy, and pushing them even closer.

It was the strangest thing to ever happen to her—and she had discovered she was Voldemort's daughter.

Hermione had never been this close to Malfoy, never even thought it could happen. His aversion to her blood status aside, it felt unnatural to be less than six feet from Malfoy without a sneer or a glare in place.

Only they continued to look, as if their eyes were locked in place. Like her, Malfoy also seemed to have lost the ability to speak, otherwise she knew he would have insulted her by then.

A hand reached through the crowd and grasped Malfoy's arm and he was pulled away. At the same time, Viktor appeared behind her and offered to escort her back to her dorm.

She allowed it, and when they arrived in front of the portrait hole, she leaned up as Viktor leaned down. The kiss was warm and gentle and over much too soon. He then pulled away with a soft smile and bid her goodnight.

Hermione returned to her dorm and got ready for bed, all the while a blush remained on her cheeks. When she slipped into bed and shut the lights, she went over the night in her head and a small smile grew on her lips. She had had her first kiss that day, but better yet she had come to the realization that she had left Draco Malfoy speechless.

"Cast them away?" Hermione asked, confusion written clear on her face.

Harry shrugged beside her, his fingers entwining in the blades of grass underneath them.

They were sat by the Black Lake where the second task had been held days ago.

Harry had just relayed the events that had occurred after the senior Barty Crouch's death to her. The Minister still refused to cancel the tournament, Snape had accused Harry of stealing from his supplies, and Dumbledore had shown him a memory of Barty Crouch Sr. and his Death Eater son.

"I asked Dumbledore clearly, whether my dreams could be real and that's what he said, to not dwell on them."

"But they feel real to you?"

Harry nodded, his voice held no trace of doubt. "It's like I'm actually there."

Hermione grew even more worried and gently asked, "What if Dumbledore isn't right? Think about it, in your dream, Barty Crouch Jr. looked exactly how he did in the memory Dumbledore showed you."

"Actually, he was a bit more haggard and older looking."

Hermione refrained from shaking Harry's shoulders. "Exactly! How could you dream of a man you had never seen before and gotten it right to the exact detail that he would be aged and physically affected by a stint in Azkaban?"

Harry began to shake his head. "No, I can't Hermione—That would mean that I actually saw Voldemort, that he's out there right now! Dumbledore knows what he's talking about. Don't you think he would be the first person to speak up if he thought Voldemort had returned."

The answer should have been obvious, but Hermione genuinely did not know. Did Dumbledore suspect Voldemort was back and had he only said those words to Harry to calm his nerves?

Or maybe it was she who was just being paranoid.

Harry's dreams had worried her ever since he had told her about them. She wasn't ready for her father's return. The idea of Voldemort back in his physical form, plotting the world's downfall was as terrifying for her as it was for Harry.

"Hermione." He was looking at her, an observant expression on his face she had never seen before. "Something's been bothering you."

"Of course Harry, there hasn't been a moment this entire year that I haven't been bothered by something. The dreams, Skeeter, your tasks—"

"No, you know that's not what I mean. Sometimes, you get this far away look in your eye or you look like you're…scared of something. I'm your friend, whatever it is, you can tell me."

There were a number of lies she had on the ready, any one of them would be plausible enough for him to believe. But Hermione found herself hesitating.

She and Harry had gotten closer that year, comfortable enough to share stupid secrets and talk about their hopes and dreams. Would it truly be so terrible to tell him?

Harry was not like Ron. He did not jump to discriminate someone because of their house or family.

But, at the same time, just because he did not initiate it, did not mean he disagreed with the sentiments.

She was reminded of his silence during her and Ron's fight at the Yule Ball. Harry usually went along with what Dumbledore, the Weasleys—whatever their side said.

If she revealed her secret to them, they'd call her a liar and wonder why she hadn't told them before. They would suspect her, question her, and she didn't even want to guess what Dumbledore would plan with her.

Hermione did not know whether Harry was mature or brave enough to come to his own conclusions—yet, but she hoped their friendship was strong enough to put off his more reactionary feelings. She would tell him the truth—a half truth. A test to gauge how he would feel about her secret.

Turning her head to stare into the murky depths of the water, she warned, "It'll be a bit of a shock."

"I can handle it."

"Harry, what if I told you I'm not who you think I am?"

"I…I don't know. It would depend. But regardless you'd still be my friend." Harry was giving her one of his genuine lopsided smiles, and she drew in a deep breath.

"I—I'm not a Muggleborn."

She glanced at Harry again. He only blinked in silence, and his furrowed burrows stemmed more from confusion than anything else, so she continued.

"My Muggle parents, they adopted me when I was just an infant. I—I didn't find out until I got my Hogwarts letter."

"You're being serious? How do you know for a fact?"

"My birth mother, she left a note for me. She told me why she was giving me up."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I—I found out what my real parents were, and I-I just couldn't."

"You found out…"

"My birth parents—they were Death Eaters."

There it was, the shock and slight caution that materialized on Harry's face. Though it gave her hope that he remained in his spot and didn't seem to be on the verge of running off, screaming her secret.

"Do you," Harry cleared his throat, "Do you know who they were?"

"No."

"You said were. Are they—gone? Dead?"

"I don't know but it makes it easier to refer to them like that."

"Hermione, this is—" Harry exhaled heavily. "It's a huge secret. You didn't have to go through it alone. You could have told us—or Dumbledore, maybe he could find—"

"No!" Hermione ignored the way Harry's eyes widened at her exclamation. "You can't tell anyone Harry. Not Dumbledore, not Ron, not even Sirius. Promise me, Harry."

Away from his eyesight, her hand tightened around her wand.

"I promise."

She relaxed.

"You're not a little bit curious who they were?"

"No." Her tone was more venomous than she had intended.

"Your parents, just because they're… that, it doesn't change anything about you. If that's why you kept the secret. We all still consider you our friend. You're still Hermione Granger." His tone was awkward and hesitant, but the sincerity was there.

Hermione smiled and tilted her head to rest on his shoulder. "Thanks, Harry."

"Blimey, Hermione." The lightness in his tone caused some of the tension to dissipate around them. "I don't know how you kept that in for so many years."

She sighed. "You don't know the half of it."

They were both quiet for a long time after that. Harry was most probably thinking over what she had revealed, while she wondered whether it had been the right decision to tell him.

Alone with the secret for so long, the lightness in her chest was unfamiliar but welcome. Not only that, but now she knew that Harry could be trusted. That he was a true friend. And that alone made her decide that it had been worth it.

When Harry returned from the maze with Cedric, the cup in his hand, she and the entire crowd had erupted in applause.

Then Hermione realized Cedric wasn't moving.

The band quieted and Harry's cries broke through, and she was unable to breath.

Please, she thought, please don't let it be—

"He's back." Harry's shout caused everyone to quiet. "Voldemort's back!" And then he broke into sobs over Cedric's body.

A sudden dread twisted her stomach, and she had to grab Ron's arm to steady herself.

Her father was back.

And the very first thing he had done was murder a student and attempt to murder Harry.

The crowd moved closer, Harry was dragged away, as their teachers attempted to get everyone back to their seats and that was how the Triwizard Tournament ended.

The days went on in somber silence around the castle.

All Hermione could do was think about her father.

It didn't matter to her that Dumbledore had once again put Harry at risk by his own negligence. It didn't matter that it was revealed that Barty Crouch Jr. had been parading around as Mad-Eye Moody. And it certainly didn't matter to her that the Ministry had their own agenda regarding Harry's claims.

All of it could wait.

Because her father had returned, and he was the monster she had always dreaded he'd be.

Hermione was not prepared.

Perhaps he was not at his full strength, perhaps he had just gained a few of his old followers back and concocted a plan that had worked out of sheer luck.

She had asked Harry this, asking him to talk about what happened in the graveyard, even in desperation going as far as to suggest seeing his memory but then he had looked at her.

It was that same look. A look of caution, of hesitation and then Harry had shaken his head and diverted his eyes and began a brief retelling of what had happened that day.

It was because of what she had revealed to him. She knew he had been through a lot in the past days, but it still stung when she realized she had lost some of his trust.

In the end it didn't matter though, because even if Harry doubted it, she knew she could be trusted to do what was right.

At least when it came to her father.

When Hermione returned home at the end of the school year, she went straight to her room and took Slytherin's locket and one of the Basilisk's fangs she had collected.

Then she destroyed one of her father's horcruxes.