Veil of Grey


That summer Hermione sent her parents off on holiday. It took a fair bit of persuasion and an artful omission of why exactly she wanted them away from home, but finally they agreed and packed up their bags on to a flight headed somewhere with plenty of water and sun.

The role of an absent father did not seem like something Tom Riddle was suited to. Sooner or later, she knew he would come to know of her. Without her necklace's magic there was little Hermione could do to protect against locating spells, therefore above all else she needed to make sure her parents were safe.

She waited days for something to happen. In her empty home, staring at the destroyed locket, waving her wand as she practiced defense spells, and strengthening her mental walls for her Occlumency.

But nothing happened.

Days turned to weeks, and she slowly allowed herself to relax. The grip on her wand loosened, her nerves settled, sleep became easier. Perhaps he wouldn't come for her.

By then, with only a few weeks remaining before she would return to Hogwarts, she thought it was safe to join the Weasley's at 12 Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore had managed to call upon the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix and they had made Sirius's home their new headquarters.

Upon arrival, one of the first things Hermione did was quietly disclose what she had done with the locket to Kreacher. The poor house elf had spent Merlin knew how much time on its destruction, it was the least she could do telling him that it was gone and that his late master's wishes had been fulfilled.

Then she greeted the other inhabitants of the house. Sirius was perhaps the most pleasing to reunite with. He looked healthier, happier, and he and Remus had seemed to have mended their friendship.

She met many of the other Order members as well. There was Mad-Eye Moody, of course. Nymphadora Tonks, a formidable witch and likable enough. And Kingsley Shacklebolt, another Auror, with a rather quiet disposition.

Hermione had not had the time to truly discern their characters. What she knew for certain was that they all seemed to want to remain tight-lipped about any and all information to do with Voldemort.

She and the Weasley children resorted to eavesdropping on their meetings for any bit of information they could scrounge. It was frustrating to say the least.

When Harry was finally brought there, Hermione had hesitated only for a moment before hugging him fiercely, regardless of where they stood after what happened at the end of Fourth year. He returned her hug with a genuine if a bit dim smile before he greeted the others.

Dumbledore had instructed them not to tell Harry anything. It had been a topic of great contention among the Order meetings. Hermione was glad Sirius was there, because often he was the only voice of reason, championing for Harry.

Molly Weasley usually argued the opposite, with the general support of the rest. Claiming Harry was just a boy, too young to join them, as if that made a difference. Dumbledore had already involved Harry. Her friend needed to be prepared but Dumbledore thought keeping him in the dark was best.

The fact that Snape sometimes joined the Order meetings was still confounding to her. His loyalties were not a matter of innocent curiosity anymore. She knew what she had seen in her mother's memories. If Snape was truly loyal to her father, it put everything at risk.

She didn't care if Dumbledore trusted him. It was clear the old man did not know everything—she was a testament to that, and so she resolved to delve deeper on the matter of Snape's allegiance.

Harry was upset when he found he and the rest of them—the children, were being left out. Especially after he heard Sirius and Remus explain how Minister Fudge was smearing Harry and Dumbledore and denying Voldemort's return, how they believed that Voldemort was raising an army.

Harry wanted to fight. And Hermione—if her father truly was gathering followers and continuing this dark path—would gladly join.

The sham of a trial of Harry's, that the Ministry had insisted on, ended quickly enough. Soon the three of them were being seen off by Sirius and Remus on Platform Nine and Three Quarters and heading back to Hogwarts for their Fifth year.

Hermione and Ron had both noticed the change in Harry. His strange quietness, the dreams he woke up with a start to, that he never wanted to talk about, and his unusually short temper. Never had she seen Harry allow himself to be goaded by Malfoy so easily, or snap at their housemates so viciously.

It didn't help that Dumbledore was ignoring him.

And to make matters worse, there was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dolores Umbridge had quickly established herself as perhaps the most horrid person Hermione had ever met.

Besides the fact that the older woman had reduced Defense Against the Dark Arts to nothing more than theory, at a time when they needed practical application, the Ministry had given her the authority to enforce any maniacal rule she wished to implement and turn a blind eye to the torture she doled out as punishment if students did not comply.

Hermione managed to find a solution to both problems. Harry would find a sense of purpose, use his knowledge and experience to train others to fight against Voldemort, and they would one up Umbridge in the process with the creation of Dumbledore's Army.

The name had not been her first choice, obviously.

While creating the group, it was stressed how important it was for them to remain a secret. She thought it was rather ingenious jinxing the parchment that each member had to sign just in case anyone betrayed them.

They trained in the Room of Requirement and as she had predicted, Harry was a brilliant teacher. Most of the spells they learned, she had already mastered but it was nice practicing on a dueling partner rather than the thin air of her bedroom.

Their numbers began to grow, and though Umbridge had caught wind that something was going on, her and her Inquisitorial Squad had yet to discover anything more.

Things were looking up. But then the Holidays came, and they finally came to know why Dumbledore had been ignoring Harry.

There was a connection between her father and Harry's minds.

No one could even have fathomed it. But what Hermione was more shocked at was the fact that Dumbledore had known and not told anyone—not even Harry.

That was why Dumbledore had been avoiding Harry, in case Voldemort somehow used the connection to get to him.

But it wasn't just Dumbledore that Voldemort could affect through Harry, was it. Sirius, Ron, her—and yet the Headmaster had said nothing until the night Arthur Weasley was attacked.

It should have been much earlier, but after Dumbledore revealed this to them, Harry began Occlumency lessons with Snape. Hermione felt a small pang of envy at that, but she knew that unless she was prepared to risk her secret being exposed, she couldn't practice like Harry could.

Voldemort's presence remained quiet, but it was all but confirmed that he was active when a mass breakout in Azkaban led to the escape of several Death Eaters. Hermione wasn't sure whether to be glad that apparently he was far too busy with his dark plans to realize she existed.

The D.A continued to practice in secret, and by then most of the students and teachers in the school had joined forces in the campaign against Umbridge.

When Easter Holidays approached, she was not surprised that both the boys wanted to go home again.

So, on the last day of classes, the three of them packed up their bags and boarded the Hogwarts Express, discussing their plans for the next few days.

Harry wanted to spend more time with Sirius. They had missed a lot of moments whilst Sirius had been on the run, and she was glad that the two could make up for it now. Arthur Weasley was still on bed rest, and it would cheer him up to spend Easter with his family. She herself, had decided to go home as well as she hadn't seen her parents since the summer.

Soon enough, the train was pulling into the station, and they disembarked together. Moody and Sirius were there waiting for Harry and Ron to take them home. Hermione planned to apparate straight home only she stopped in her tracks on the platform when she realized that one of her bags was missing.

"I'll go back and grab it. Don't wait up for me." She hugged Harry and Ron goodbye. "Go on, I'll see you both after break."

Hermione did not wait to watch them leave. The compartments were empty, most of the passengers having gotten off the train already. She made her way to the rather larger one she, Harry, and Ron had occupied and found her bag sitting innocently on the seat.

Had it not been entirely suspicious—and had she not spent hours upon hours on her spellwork and been dueling for the better part of the year, she might not have been able to block the spell that came hurtling towards her from behind.

But she did, and then turned to find Goyle and Malfoy by the compartment door, their wands drawn. She had only a moment to process her shock before Goyle sent another spell at her which she blocked again with a wave of her wand.

"Don't make this difficult, Granger." Malfoy said, almost boredly, as he stayed back seemingly content to let Goyle do all the work.

Whatever his reasoning was, she was glad for it. Goyle wasn't exactly a skilled dueler, but he was persistent. He fired off spell after spell and she realized what was happening. Voldemort had come to know who she was.

Her father had found her.

What other reason would he have to send people after her, Harry Potter's Muggleborn best friend? Harry had been right there, they could have just as easily gotten to him.

Goyle continued to send spells at her, basic spells, their goal clearly being to detain but leave her unharmed.

Was it some sort of initiation for them? For Goyle and Malfoy to join her father's ranks? It was despicable involving children like this, but she had to stop herself there, remembering Dumbledore and his allies were not any better.

Hermione realized she had two options. She could escape now, and fight off the future attempts to capture her, but if the Order found out it would lead to questions like why Voldemort wanted her in the first place. Or—she could allow them to take her.

The thought was mildly terrifying and caused one of Goyle's spells to nearly graze her ear.

Though it was clear her father had no morality, capable of killing with a flick of his hand, she didn't know if he was capable of hurting her. She had seen it clear in his eyes when he held her as a baby in her mother's memories, a look of love.

Hermione immediately discarded the thought. Never mind the fact that the horcruxes had removed any semblance of humanity in him. Just as she was willing to forgo blood and destroy him—it was likely he was as well.

But that begged the question, what he wanted with her. Did he mean to make her aware of her parentage? Would he ask her to join him, kill her if she refused?

Hermione considered all of this as Goyle continued to fire off spells at her. When he got frustrated and sent an incendio that nearly scorched her hair, Hermione decided that was enough and knocked her classmate out with a quick petrificus totalus.

Regarding Goyle's unconscious form on the floor, Malfoy almost reluctantly stepped up and shot a stunner at her.

She dodged it and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Why are you doing this Malfoy?"

He rolled his eyes and sneered. "You're smart, why don't you figure it out? Petrificus totalus."

"Just because we aren't at school doesn't mean you'd be exempt from punishment. You could get expelled for this."

"Trust you to worry about expulsion at a time like this. I have bigger things to worry about."

She paused at that.

His hex somehow missed her by a few inches.

"Is it because of him?"

"Brightest witch of her age."

"Why is he making you do this? Are you being threatened?"

He only rolled his eyes.

"What does he want?"

"I don't know." He shot another easy spell at her. By now they were both breathing hard from the exertion of the duel. "I wasn't privy to the details. Will you just bloody—end this."

Hermione's wand hand wavered.

Her father could hurt her—Kill her.

The thought of putting herself in that danger was nerve wracking. But facing him was simply something she could not escape. As long as Voldemort lived, she would always be running or living in fear that her secret would be exposed to the Order.

If she confronted him now, she would only be confronting the inevitable.

With that, she raised her wand determinedly. Malfoy echoed the motion and fired first, an expelliarmus.

She did nothing. The spell hit its target, her wand went cluttering to the floor, and it was at that moment that the compartment doors opened, and Snape stepped in.

For a moment, she thought perhaps he was there on behalf of the Order. He surveyed the scene, from Draco's raised wand and shocked expression to Goyle, and then to her wand on the floor. Then he nodded. "Well done, Draco."

Snape used a spell to bind her hands and gave Malfoy her wand. "Keep an eye on Miss Granger. I need to tie up some loose ends before we bring her to the Dark Lord."

Their professor seemed unwilling to meet her angry glare, and he turned and left rather quickly, leaving Draco and her alone.

She watched as the shock that had remained on Malfoy's face since he disarmed her, turned to slight panic.

"You…" He ran a hand through his hair and met her gaze. "You just stood there." He let out a short disbelieving breath and then began to pace stepping over his friend's body at every lap.

Several long moments passed and then, "Expelliarmus—a fucking expelliarmus!" He snapped and turned on her with a furious glare. "You couldn't defend a measly spell like that? Were you even bloody trying, Granger?"

She looked at him almost warily.

It was entirely different from the cool, composed boy she had been dueling minutes ago, and yet completely expected. Perhaps because she had seen glimpses of this Malfoy, throughout their years at Hogwarts.

The boy who was too scared to ride the boats over the Black Lake, but too proud to admit it. The one who was terrified of his father but yearned for his approval and respect. The one who had just moments ago dueled her, but only aimed when she had been ready and shot his spells two inches off target almost every time.

It was why she had never been able to bring herself to truly hate Draco Malfoy. Despite his arrogance and blood purist views. More than anyone she could understand the impact that blood relation had, especially when one's family turned out to be less than perfect.

At least she had been fortunate enough to be raised without her father's influence.

Malfoy on the other hand, had probably had his mother and father's elitist views instilled in him since a young age. It was perhaps the same future that Lillian had prevented for her.

"He's back." Malfoy spoke more to himself than her. "I have to do this. For father. For our family. We can't disobey him."

"I know, Malfoy."

Once again his glare was on her, "Do you even understand what's happening?" He glared down at her. "You're going to be taken to Voldemort. He'll—" Malfoy paled presumably at the thought of what Voldemort could do to her.

Clearly, he knew nothing of her parentage.

He was operating under Lucius and by extension her father's commands. They had told him what do, and he had simply been forced to obey without question.

She truly believed Malfoy did not wish harm on her. As much as he hated her, they had spent years together as carefree children, not as friends but classmates at least.

There was mutual care for each other, and he could not deny that.

Malfoy seemed to have realized that as well and it only increased his panic. The Death Eater brand would not suit him, she thought as she watched his anxious movements. He had always been a bit of a coward, too in touch with his feelings, and she wholeheartedly meant it as a compliment.

Her musings were cut short when he suddenly straightened and stalked towards her. Then he brandished her wand, and all she could do was stare dumbly at it.

"Take it." He brought it near her bound hands. "I'll say you got out somehow."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "They wouldn't believe you."

"Is that really your main concern, Granger? Just take it and go."

A strange calmness had taken over her. She had dreaded and cried over seeing her father all those years but now that she had accepted the fate, going back felt wrong.

Slowly she shook her head, "That's alright."

A long moment passed, as Draco seemed to process her words. Then he looked at her like she had gone insane. "Do you have a death wish? Granger, I'm trying to help you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And I'm telling you to stop. I don't need your help."

"You're mental—"

"Do you have a death wish?" She countered pointedly. "I can't imagine letting me go will please your precious Dark Lord."

Malfoy's mouth opened and closed. She was right of course, though strangely touching as it was for Malfoy to choose this moment to defy his orders, she didn't think he had properly thought it through.

In fact, a bit of worry settled in her stomach.

"Malfoy, tell me you're skilled enough in Occlumency to hide this—this offer of help you just gave me."

"I—I've practiced." He said rather unconvincingly.

"But not enough." She frowned. "What were you thinking? You'd let me go, say I escaped, and then what? He would just believe you? He must use Llegimency often, power hungry people are also paranoid, you'd have been caught almost immediately."

"So sorry Granger, next time I attempt to do a selfless act and save someone from horrible death, I'll just deliberate on the possible outcomes and how they'll affect me."

"You should." She replied. "In fact—"

A beat passed, and then she lunged forward, her bound hands attempting to grab her wand from his hands.

"Granger what are you—"

"Give me my wand Malfoy—I'm—I'm going to obliviate you."

"You are not going to obliviate me—"

"Just the past minute. I'm trying to help—Fine!" She stepped away from him with a frown. Only once she was a safe distance did he drop his hands from where he had been holding her wand above their heads.

"I suppose I have to go with you now. He won't find it suspicious and try to look inside your head, if everything went as planned."

He stared at her with open befuddlement. "Why do you even care?"

"I'm not a monster, I don't want to see you get hurt Malfoy."

"Yeah well, I'm not a bloody monster either." He snapped clearly offended. "That's why I offered you your wand. You don't know what he'll do—"

"He won't do anything." She hoped.

"You're daft if you actually believe that." He rolled his eyes before taking a seat on the bench across from her with a huff.

She stared at him curiously and then cocked her to the side. "Do you hate me, Malfoy?"

He blinked at the question and then sneered at her just as he had done many times before. "Of course, I do."

Liar. Malfoy didn't even know what that word meant. If he hated her, truly hated her, this entire ordeal would have gone very differently.

"And why do you hate me?"

"Because you're a Mudblood."

She rolled her eyes. If somehow she survived her meeting with her father and came out of this unscathed, she would show Malfoy how wrong he was about all the blood purity nonsense he spouted. She wagered it would be easy.

"And what if I wasn't—would you still hate me then?"

He looked less sure this time. She waited patiently for him to come up with a reply, but then the compartment door opened once again, and Snape returned.

"I will be taking Miss Granger back to the manor. Draco I need you to stay and take Goyle home."

Hesitation was clear as day on Malfoy's face as he glanced at Hermione then Snape. "Professor—"

"Go." Snape's tone left little argument and Malfoy reluctantly handed Snape her wand, before giving her one last glance and apparating with Goyle in tow.

Once they were alone, Hermione turned to her professor with a glower and opened her mouth to properly speak her mind.

"Silencio."

Snape it seemed had anticipated it and had already had his wand out with the spell ready. Voiceless, she scowled fiercely at him and mouthed a few choice words, which Snape ignored.

"I can assure you, there will be plenty of time to berate me later, Miss Granger." He drawled and clasped her upper arm.

She felt the familiar pull of apparition and then they were landing, in entirely new surroundings that somehow felt vaguely familiar. It was Malfoy Manor. They were in a small sitting room, ornately decorated but in possession of all the dark and gloom that one would expect the Malfoy's to prefer.

"Now I'm going to release the spells, but before I do, I need you to try not to panic Miss Granger. You're not in any harm."

She rolled her eyes in response. To which her professor rolled his eyes even further. Then he waved his hand and began to undo the spells on her. First the bindings around her hands, and then her voice.

As soon as he had though, she levelled him with a glare. "You are despicable. First and foremost, you're supposed to be our teacher. You're supposed to care for your students. Instead, you're playing both sides, and involving your students in a war. Kidnapping them, putting them in danger—"

"Must I repeat myself? You're not in any harm, Miss Granger."

"And I should just believe you? A traitor?"

Snape did not reply rather he stuck his hand out and offered her, her wand. Her eyes narrowed, before she reached out and took it. Simply having the familiar piece of wood back in her hands gave her a great measure of comfort.

"Do not try to apparate—or do anything stupid. Once you arrived I was instructed to direct you to that room, there."

She frowned at the large mahogany door he gestured to.

"He's in there is he?"

"Yes," was Snape's simple blank reply, giving her no comfort.

For a moment, Hermione considered escaping. Sending a spell to knock Snape out, using the Floo to head straight to the Order, because she was sure there were anti-apparition wards set around the manor. But the thought vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

She needed—no wanted to do this.

With a pounding heart, she walked the few steps forward and opened the door.

It was cold. As soon as she stepped in and the door shut behind her, she felt a frigid chill run through her body. The room was almost entirely bathed in darkness, except for the light that emitted from the fireplace.

Slowly she took a few more steps inside, squinting her eyes to make out the vaulted ceiling, the walls lined with towering bookshelves, and the desk in the far back of the room.

"Jean."

It was barely a whisper and she thought perhaps she had heard wrong.

"Come closer."

Then there was the sound of a chair scraping against wood. She hesitantly walked further and there he was. Almost entirely concealed in the shadows albeit, but she could see his dark figure standing behind the desk.

"Jean…"

"My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger."

A long moment of silence passed. Her eyes strayed to some sort of shape on the floor by his desk.

"Yes." He said finally. "Hermione Granger. Gryffindor. Muggleborn. Harry Potter's best friend. And do you know who I am?"

"You're Voldemort." She replied trying not show any fear in her voice. The thing by his desk had begun to move. "What do you want?"

Though she could not see him, she could tell he was watching her carefully. When another moment passed and he did not answer her, she straightened. "The Order will know. They'll know I'm missing. My parents expect me home, they'll tell them if something is wrong."

"Your parents. Martha and Thomas Granger. In that two story house in the quiet Muggle neighborhood. Those wards set up to protect them are commendable for a child, but did you think it would be enough?"

Hermione's blood ran cold, a sharp sting of panic settling deep in her chest. She hurriedly thought back to when she had last spoken to her parents. Mum had sent her a letter just two days ago about her returning home.

She glared at Voldemort, tightening her hand around her wand. She wondered what would happen if you avada'd a man who had split his soul. Would it phase through him, deflect off?

"You won't harm them."

"They're Muggles." She was sure his lips were twisted in a sneer. "Filth. Not worth any of your worry."

She raised her wand. The shape on the floor hissed at her, not an immediate threat but a warning and she realized that it was a huge snake that was coiled by his feet. "I want assurance they're unharmed, otherwise I won't—I won't—"

"You won't what? Jean, you seem to believe you hold any kind of leverage in this situation." He said curiously.

"Hermione—" She corrected coldly. "And I do. I won't hear any of what you have to say. That's why I'm here aren't I?" It was an admission of sorts. She had planned to wait for him to say his piece before revealing what she knew, but now she could practically hear him analyzing her words.

She strengthened her mind's walls, prepared for an intrusion of her thoughts. Instead, she felt herself lurch slightly forward, the necklace tearing from her neck and into his hand. She saw a glimpse of long bony fingers before they receded into darkness again.

She imagined he was dangling it in front of him, examining the piece of jewelry. "Where did you get this?"

She swallowed, stepping back as the snake began to slither forwards.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked again.

"Voldemort."

"What else?" He snapped impatiently.

She took a deep breath. "Tom Riddle." There was a horrid tremor in her voice, as she added quietly, "My—my father."

Another long silence that made her skin itch in unease.

"How…" He began seeming to have difficulty processing his surprise. "How did you find out?" He paused, a thought seeming to occur to him. "Lillian is she—"

"She's dead." Hermione snapped hurriedly, loathing the underlying hope in his voice. "You should know, you were the one to kill her."

When he spoke again it was with a menacing tone. "Speak. Now. How did you find out? How long have you known?"

"First my parents."

"They're unharmed." He hissed. "Spelled asleep so as not alarm your friends."

"I found out years ago, before I started at Hogwarts. Mother, she left me letters about that night, about you. She told me why she left, she told me about your bigoted cause, how you were slowly turning into a monster and that she didn't want me to turn out like you."

"She tried to turn you against me." He said in irritation. "Your mother was as much proponent for our cause as I. It was only towards the end that—"

"She realized her mistakes. And she was right to!"

"You believe that now Jean, but once you come to know who you are, your true birthright, you'll understand." She could hardly believe what she was hearing. "You have worthier blood—my blood in your veins and therefore you have a greater purpose."

"My name is Hermione."

"It is Jean. Your mother and I named you. Then she took you from me, made me believe you were dead for years." He hissed. "When I found out you were alive I hoped—"

"What, that I'd…join you?" Her nose itched, she didn't know why her eyes had started to sting. "After all you've done, you expected me to willingly take your side?"

"Perhaps it was wishful thinking, you were raised by Muggles and took the company of Harry Potter and the Order."

"You're a monster. That fact isn't changed by what company I keep."

"I did what was necessary for the betterment of the Wizarding World and I will continue to do so." Was his defensive reply. "War is not won by soft hearts or mercy only fear."

She wasn't there for a debate. They would always be on opposite sides. She would never change her views just as she knew it was too late for him to. Instead, Hermione switched gears and quietly asked. "How did you find me?" She needed to know, perhaps she could replicate her mother's protection magic against it.

"That night, when Lillian took you, and you both—it was reflected in the Riddle family tree. Now years later, your name is there again. Whatever magic Lillian used wore off, and there is little effort required to locate one when blood magic is involved." He read her thoughts easily. "You can't replicate it. The caster must be related by blood. And even if you could, do you think I'd let you leave Jean?"

"Do you think I'd stay? I already said I'm never going to join you.

"You will still side with them?" He snarled. "Our differences aside, I am your blood, your family."

"You are my blood—" She admitted, "But you are not my family."

"And they are? Thomas and Martha Granger? They are Muggles." He spat the word.

"It doesn't matter! Mother told me about your views on blood purity, a means to sow hate among the magical community but you've deluded yourself into actually believing it. Pureblood, Half-blood, Muggleborn. No one can control what they're born as and yet—I experienced first-hand the hate some have for something so asinine. I guess I can thank you for that."

He was quiet.

"I don't believe in your ridiculous views on blood purity. I don't agree with murder or torture as a method to anything. And I don't want to live in a world where someone who does is in control. Even if that person is my father. So, no I'm not going to side with you."

He took a deep breath, "So be it. You don't want to side with me, fine. But you still won't be leaving here."

"And why is that?"

"I may be a despicable creature, but Dumbledore and his pathetic Order is not far off. You believe you are safe among them? Once they find out who you really are, you'll be considered their enemy. You are my blood, my heir, it may not mean anything to you, but it will to them."

"I know that. That's why I won't let them find out. Mother didn't just tell me about you. Dumbledore planned on taking and using me against you that night. I know he can't be trusted. But some of them I can—and Harry. Harry's my best friend."

"That child and his Headmaster are planning my destruction." He sneered.

"You murdered his parents!"

"The boy was prophesized to kill me." He retorted coldly. "I had just lost my wife and child. The war, my ambitions, were all I had left. Better to be done with it then, than when he was grown."

She shook her head at his justification. "And what now? Your war is still with a child."

"It is with a child because that is the weapon Dumbledore has decided to use!"

"Yes, Dumbledore is using Harry and Harry is too blinded by hatred towards you to see it. And yet you still justify your actions? Your war should be with Dumbledore. Stop murdering innocents, stop sowing hate towards those who don't deserve it."

"Without hate, what do I have?" He exclaimed furiously. "The Wizarding World is ready to be complacent to the hypocrisy they are too blind to see. They laud the Ministry and Dumbledore, believing that if the two say so, it must be right. Hatred is my weapon. To make them see change is needed. And I am much too close to victory to give it up."

"Then that's that isn't it." She bit out angrily. "You will continue on being a monster. And I will do everything I can to protect Harry and stop you."

"You will see reason, Jean."

She didn't care for any more of his words, having half a mind to simply leave out the doors. She was almost certain he wouldn't harm her. She had said many things to him, and for a few moments she had been worried he'd raise his wand or perhaps sick his snake on her, but he hadn't.

It had confirmed that despite everything, Tom Riddle still valued family—well, blood, was the correct term. He wouldn't kill her at least, but kidnapping was still very much in question which meant Hermione needed to reason with him.

"What do you expect to happen now? It doesn't make sense to keep me here against my will. I'm expected back at Hogwarts in two weeks and unless you plan on confining me to my room, I will get a message out and it'll surely raise suspicion towards my whereabouts and by extension yours."

He seemed to think about it for a long moment. Somehow inanely, he had expected an entirely different outcome, and she supposed he was not prepared for this.

It didn't matter. The logical thing to do would be to let her go. Any moment now he would tell her that he knew everything about her, where she lived, where she went to school, and that he was letting her go but if she tried to go into hiding he would find her—

"Then there is no other choice but to confine you to your room."

Hermione gasped as her wand went flying out of her hand.

"You can't—" She took a step forward, but the snake rose up and hissed at her before she could get even a few feet near the desk. "You can't keep me here."

"I can and I will, Jean." His tone was deadly serious.

"Hermione." She nearly yelled in reply. "What about my parents? What about when they find out I'm missing? What about the Order—"

She barely realized the doors had opened, and Professor Snape had stepped in until she felt him squeeze her arm.

"Severus will take you to your room now."

"No. No, you can't." Her protests were ignored as Snape began to drag her out. She turned her head to glare at where Voldemort presumably stood in the darkness. "I hate you." She seethed. "Blood alone doesn't make you my father, you—"

The doors of the study shut.

"—monster."