This was inspired and begins with a plunny woven in from Fran Lawrence from a Facebook group. This is a gray Hermione, with Order of Phoenix and allies bashing. I will be taking some liberties with events from the first war on. This Hermione will be more powerful than canon Hermione for reasons that will be explained. I will keep her from being a Mary Sue character. My intention is to post weekly, since I have a very nice lead built up. But we all know how the plans of mice and men go.
Chapter One: Hermione is done.
When people discussed reckless Gryffindors, Hermione Granger did not make the top ten. She wasn't even in the top one hundred. She was perhaps the least reckless person to be sorted into the house of the brave ever. But that description was why she had been, brave. No one could dispute Hermione Granger's bravery. For seven years she stood shoulder to shoulder with her best friend and her boyfriend fighting evil wizards. Right now the three were hiding in the Forest of Dean while hunting for the means to destroy Voldemort.
Using a long stick, she stirred the campfire, checking that the dry wood didn't produce too much smoke, her wards would only disguise it so far above ground level.
With an eye on the dark storm clouds gathering overhead, she walked the perimeter in the twilight, checking for anything abnormal or ominous. Fat raindrops plopped onto her head and the dirt at her feet. She ran to bank the fire before the rain could put it out completely.
She paused then, she could cast a few charms rendering herself waterproof, or she could go into the tent and cuddle with her boyfriend and listen to the February rain on the tent roof. After a rocky end to the last school year, the two finally got together over the summer months after a few weeks of dancing around one another. It had been the one bright spot on this dark journey. Hermione insisted they keep their romantic displays to a minimum. She didn't want to make Harry uncomfortable. Ron easily agreed.
Silently, she eased the flaps opened and slipped inside. She didn't want to wake Harry. Merlin knew he needed the rest. The stress of carrying the horcrux had been eating at all of them. She crept across the tent's living room area to the bedroom area. A deep erotic sounding moan froze her in place. Straining to listen she heard heavy breathing through a poorly cast silencing charm. Horrified she pulled the canvas back to reveal the boys, her boys, naked entwined in a rather compromising romantic embrace. "Harry," moaned Ron.
"Shh, Hermione might hear you," Harry whispered, biting back his groan of pleasure.
"She's outside. She's not going to come in early. Snatchers might get us," Ron snorted, grinding against Harry.
"She'd be heartbroken if she saw."
Or she might be turned on and want to join in," Ron responded hopefully.
"Highly unlikely. And I don't like sharing, you know that."
"Then you should hurry up and finish before she comes in," Ron kissed him.
"Hmm, do that again." They returned to their vigorous lovemaking.
She reeled from this slap in the face, something deep inside her snapping when she realized they were on her cot. Not only were they fucking each other's brains out behind her back, they were doing it on her sheets under her blanket. Ron was cheating on her and didn't even have the decency to use his own damn bed. Hermione seethed. This was the last straw.
Spinning on her heels, Hermione stomped across the tent, snatching her beaded bag from her chair. Without a second thought, she headed into the trees away from the boys. Tears streaked down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. Moments from the last seven years flashed through her mind, bringing home a sad, hard truth: they had never been her friends, not really, not like she had been theirs. Real friends would have told her they were together. Real friends, you wouldn't have strung her along, or let someone do that to her. Like everyone else, they were using her for her brains, well the ones who weren't busy hating her for her blood status.
The rains faded away and down chased away the shadows before she stopped and slumped to the ground. Leaning against a tree, she argued with herself. The idea teasing her seemed too risky to seriously consider, and yet, what did she have to lose? Deciding to be reckless, she threw caution to the wind and pulled parchment and a pen from her bag, and began writing.
Dear Voldemort... Dark Lord? Mr. Riddle? Sir You-Know-Who? What would you prefer? I mean, no offense, I assure you, but all these names get so confusing.
I am writing to you because seem to be struggling to get your hands on my ex-best friend, Harry Potter, his cheating bastard lover/best friend, Ronald Weasley, and, of course, the brains of the bunch, me, Hermione Granger, mudblood extraordinaire. I'd like for us to compete in a wager... if I win, you teach me all the dark magic you know and swear on your magic not to harm or kill me, either directly, indirectly, or through inaction allow me to come to harm. If you win, I will join your ranks, give you all the information I know on every member of the Order of Phoenix, and any other interesting little tidbit you can find when you go rummaging through my mind.
Now, for the rules: you are to set a competition for your followers which will run until 2nd May 1998. I am the target. The first Death Eater to catch me and bring me to you for your winnings can do anything he, or she wants to me. If by 3rd May 1998, I have avoided capture, I win. I will await details of when our lessons shall begin.
Something you need to know before you decide for or against this little game: I am no longer allied with Harry Potter, the Order of Phoenix, or Gryffindor House, for that matter. I am a rebel without a cause. Do you get that reference, Mr. Whatever I'm supposed to call you? I am sure, Prof Snape would.
The parchment on which I write this correspondence is charmed to open for you only, although you probably know that by now. In fact, I'd be surprised if you've gotten this far without trying to turn it to ash. Ha, ha! You tried, didn't you? I charmed it to be resistant to all the elements and magic, itself. Your acceptance of the wager makes the parameters and rewards legally binding for both of us. If you read the postscript aloud, then you have accepted my wager and the game is afoot.
Until we meet,
Hermione Granger
P/S...
Lord Voldemort tightened his grip on the parchment, his hands clenching in annoyance. He had, indeed, tried to incinerate the missive with both magic and mundane flame, both failed. The written postscript was obviously a code word of some sort, spelled to reveal something else when spoken aloud. Had she not been challenging him he would have admitted his admiration of her audacity and accomplishment. This wan seeming piece of magic intrigued him. Impressive really, especially for a teenage mudblood. The parchment could not be destroyed, it simply lay there awaiting his word. He summoned those followers currently in Malfoy Manor and Severus Snape.
Malfoy Sr. entered with both Lestrange brothers and Dolohov. Snape joined them ten minutes later. Voldemort gave them a moment to greet one another and situate themselves. "I have received the strangest letter this morning. A rather well-known mudblood of several of your acquaintances has proposed a game of sorts with rather interesting stakes."
"Who would dare such a thing?" questioned Rodolphus.
"Granger," Snape said quietly. Voldemort nodded.
"How did you know?" Dolohov's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Because every other mudblood in the world quakes in fear at the thought of our lord. None of them would dream, let alone dare, to write him to him proposing anything."
"What is she proposing, my lord?" Lucius inquired derailing the possible spat.
"A contest between herself and my followers. An extreme game of hide-and-go-seek, if you will. For the next three months, 2nd February to 2nd May, she will be hiding. If any of you find her and are able to bring her to me, she will join us and her mind will be an open book to me." One of them whistled softly.
"And if she wins?" Snape asked.
"You think one teenage mudblood dropout can hide from fully trained adult wizards?"
"She survived you," retorted Snape, "but this one? Yes, there is a fair to good chance she can."
Ignoring Dolohov's glower, Voldemort answered Snape's question. "She wishes for me to teach her all the dark magic I know. And promise not to harm her, or allow you all to harm her."
Is it possible this is a trap of some kind? A Trojan Horse, if you will?" asked Rodolphus.
"She claims to have broken ties with Potter, the Order, and even her Hogwarts House."
Lucius nodded, "Draco reports that Granger is the most trustworthy of the trio. She does not lie if she can help it, and if she gives her word she will keep it."
"My agreement to the game binds both of us to our word. If she loses she will be forced to pay the forfeit. If she wins, I cannot allow her to be harmed," Voldemort nodded.
Rabastan stared out the window, lost in thought. "My lord?"
"Speak, Rabastan. I called you all to me to advise me on this matter."
"Miss Granger indicated she cut ties with the quote, unquote, light side. I assume she is a rather loyal individual, given her commitment to keeping her word." He looked to Snape.
"To the best of my knowledge, she is, even when it was undeserved."
"That suggests a perceived betrayal of some kind, perhaps more than one on their parts. She should she win, she will be nearby, available to you, and us, to win her over, encourage her to join us. Which might not gain you everything she knows, but more than we have now."
Voldemort nodded his acceptance of the thought, then looked to Malfoy and Snape, "Would she be amendable?"
Lucius considered the question carefully, wary of answering incorrectly, "Anything is possible. Draco has reported numerous falling outs over the years, the worst being in third and sixth years. He was preoccupied with his own task that year but noticed Weasley romancing another girl, to Granger's distress. He reported Weasley's delight in rubbing her face in that and the girl in question."
Snape murmured his agreement, "Dumbledore often fretted when the dunderheads treated her poorly, which was often and with increasing cruelty, but he only if it seemed she had noticed the objected to the treatment."
"Why would the fool care?" wondered Rodolphus.
Snape snorted, "Granger is the brains of the operation. She has been since their first year. If any of them listened to her the Order wouldn't be only fighting us to a standstill."
"You never encouraged them to, did you, Severus?" Voldemort questioned in a quiet, slow voice that suggested deadly danger and pain ahead.
"Certainly not. For one, my disdain for Granger is well known, agreeing with her would have raised questions. And second, the purpose of being a double agent is to control the information they obtained and sabotage them at the same time. Disagreeing both demoralized Granger and handicapped the fools." Voldemort frowned, he attempted to accept the tightrope Snape had walked admitting, at least to himself, he often failed to. Snape continued, "Over the years I have observed that when crossed Granger can be vicious and vindictive. Her revenge was often swift and well thought out."
Nodding thoughtfully, Voldemort handed Hermione's letter to Malfoy. "Read the postscript aloud," he ordered. One by one his followers attempted to unlock the hidden message. "Oh, you clever sneaky girl," he whispered to himself. "Leave me. Should I decide to actually entertain this charade you will be informed." The assembled Death Eaters nodded and left silently.
He sighed, he was far too tired for these games. The war was exhausting. Looking around the empty room he conceded. He wanted to know what she felt necessary to hide in a letter only he could open. No one need know if he declined to follow through with whatever the little bitch was playing at. "Love," he uttered a sneer upon his lips.
P./S. The last thing you need to know: Remember that prophecy you were so desperate for? I know Snape knows it. I know he shared it with you. He's too good a spy and too careful a Slytherin not to have. Do you remember that part about the 'Chosen One' having a 'power the Dark Lord knows not?' I bet that part kills you. The power isn't the sacrifice of Lily that lives in Harry's skin or the powers you accidentally passed on to him that night in Godric's Hollow. That power is me. I am not who you think I am, who anyone thinks I am. I am not just a mudblood. I am the heir to the Founders of Hogwarts, all of them. Through generations heirs unknowingly had trysts with other heirs. Eventually, they all led to me. Hogwarts, herself, showed me. My ancestors come from all four lines of the Founders, and more surprising, the lines of Merlin and Circe as well. I am the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not, only now he does. Are you still trying to incinerate my letter, cousin?
As this chapter is on the small side, and so horribly cliffie, I will be posting the second chapter tomorrow. Call it a Thanksgiving gift from your American author.
