A/N: This chapter picks up where the Prologue left off. Enjoy!

Chapter Seven: The Present Revisited

"Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death."

--Harold Wilson

The soft tapping at the door roused her from her restless sleep in the hallway. However, her razor sharp mind quickly concluded that no good had ever come from answering the door—or the phone—in the middle of the night. Better to lay there, wallowing in misery. Since it was a new feeling for her, she wanted to experience it fully.

"Hermione, open the bloody door."

Cursing the twins for slipping something in her drinks, because surely she was having auditory hallucinations that sounded like Ron, she began humming to herself to block it out. He couldn't really be there because he was on his way to Salem . . .

Honestly, what a ghastly place for a honeymoon.

"Hermione, I'm going to open the door . . . don't hex me."

Even her hallucinations weren't romantic. This is the part where he's supposed to break down the door, opening it with a simple spell didn't have the same effect at all. Moaning and deciding she rather like the way it echoed, she continued to noisily prop herself against the wall.

Her blurry vision had cleared sufficiently to make out Ron's face, peering through the small opening. "Move away so I can come in, Hermione. You're neighbors are starting to worry."

She did as he asked, wondering if all auditory hallucinations could open doors or if hers was special. Massaging her neck to work out the kink, she eyeballed him suspiciously and muttered, "What are you doing here?"

"I come all this way to say I love you and this is the welcome I get?"

"You're not real."

She watched warily as he sat down beside her, his expression showing affectionate amusement that did not reach his eyes. His eyes were dead.

"What if I touched you? Would you believe me then?" Without waiting for her answer, he reached over and caressed her cheek. The expected tingle never came and she wondered if it was possible to get over the love of your life in less than six hours.

"I made a mistake, Hermione," he whispered seductively in voice that was not quite right. "The worse mistake . . . I want to make it up to you."

Becoming more aware with each passing moment, she began to feel something she hadn't felt in ages: fear. Heart in her throat, she avoided looking at him and tried to remember where she had dropped her wand when she came into her flat. A casual scan of the hallway gave no trace of its whereabouts meaning it was either still at the Weasleys or it had rolled into the kitchen. "I'm not sure you can, Ron. I think . . . I think it's too late. You should go back to your wife."

"Sweet, noble Hermione. Do you ever tire of being good? Do you ever think of how it would feel to do something forbidden?"

His hands had fallen from her face to stroke her shoulders, effectively pinning her in place. She worked hard to keep her panic under control knowing in situations like these it could be deadly. She focused on two thoughts—that the person beside her was not Ron and that she had to get to her wand—and blocked out all else. She felt the imposter's fingers trail lightly up and down her arms leaving her cold. Luckily he mistook her body's reaction for something else and she felt his breath tease her hair when he silkily laughed. "I know you want this."

Logic asserted itself, pulling out in front of the anger she felt at his words. Obviously whoever he was, he needed her alive. Otherwise there would have been no reason to disguise himself as one of her best friends and try to seduce her. No, if he wanted her dead she would already be gone.

Despite her mounting curiosity as to the motive behind this elaborate illusion, she focused on how to escape from his increasingly pointed caresses without letting on that she saw through his charade. Just because he wanted her alive didn't mean he wouldn't hurt her if he was cornered. "Ron, I never thought you'd come back."

"Mmm . . . how could I resist," he said as he nuzzled her neck. He pulled back suddenly, a slight smirk on his face. "We should go somewhere more private."

If she wasn't already sure, the sight of Ron's dear features twisted into an arrogant smirk would have clinched it. Ron never smirked—goofy grins and bewildered smiles were about the most he could manage and even those were rare since the engagement. "More private? What's wrong with here?"

"This isn't exactly the setting I had in mind for what I have planned," was the snide reply. She nearly rolled her eyes. She would have laughed if it weren't for the fact she was somewhat offended that they—whoever they were—had sent an amateur to capture her. There was no doubt in her mind that this idiot was not the mastermind of this unfortunate little snare, effective as it turned out to be. This man was too amused at his thinly veiled threats to even notice she was inching towards the kitchen. "Where are you going?"

Okay, so maybe he was more observant than she gave him credit for . . . "I'm thirsty. Thought I'd get a glass of water before we leave."

"We'll have some wine when we get there," he ordered, getting to his feet and pulling her forcefully to his side.

She was faced with a difficult choice. She was reasonably certain that what awaited her in the 'private' place was not a romantic candlelit dinner complete with a bottle of wine and probably fell into the dark and painful category. On the other hand, if she fought him now and failed to get her wand, she was likely to be unconscious when he took her away and even more vulnerable. Trying to hide her disgust she feebly suggested, "Perhaps I should slip into something more comfortable?"

"You're fine, stop stalling," the Ron-imposter barked. Apparently he had moved beyond seductive straight to severe now that she had more or less agreed to go with him. The jerk.

Sighing, she realized there was nothing to do but get to the end of this scenario. At least then she would know what it was all about and could plan accordingly. It was a testament to how truly upset she was by the whole wedding and subsequent events that her only worry as she allowed Imposter Ron to make her touch an unquestionably illegal portkey was that she would ruin her dress.

Hermione wondered if she had done something to piss fate off. As if she was caught in a B-movie, her not-so-charming companion had brought her to an abandoned house in the woods. The cracked windows were so grimy that the moonlight barely penetrated into the room serving only to make it seem darker.

"How romantic," she muttered sarcastically. After all, there wasn't much point in playing along now that she was alone, unarmed, and completely at his mercy. She may as well annoy him while she could.

"Let's get out of here," he responded gruffly, the features he had stolen pulled into a grimace of fear. Not giving her a chance to argue, he roughly grabbed her arm and practically pushed her out of the house.

"So when are you going to tell me who you are," she asked as if she had nothing better to do then stroll through the creepy forest with a stranger who would probably torture her before the night was through.

"You are clever," her abductor said. While it might have been a compliment from someone else, this man made it sound like it was a crime worthy of death.

"No, I would imagine a child could have seen through your pathetic act."

"Save your voice, mudblood. You'll need it to beg for your life later," came his sharp reply.

Despite knowing that he wasn't Ron, her mind cringed at the hateful name coming from what looked like his mouth. Frowning, she vowed, "You'll have to kill me because I won't give you what you want."

"How do you know that killing you isn't what we want?"

"Why all the pretending then? You wouldn't have gone to all this trouble if you didn't want something from me." She could tell by the increasing pressure on her arm that he was losing his patience. She would have bruises from his grip and randomly wondered how many she would accumulate before dawn.

"We'll see if you're so clever when they get through with you."

"I can hardly wait," she muttered. In hindsight perhaps she should have gone for her wand. Being conscious was highly overrated when one was being tortured for information.

They continued hiking in silence. She thought of running several times but her captor seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to her flight attempts. Which left only one option: fight.

With as much force as she could, she rammed her elbow into his ribs. The surprise of her attack caused his grip to loosen enough for her to escape. She kicked him in the shin for good measure and then sprinted away as he cursed loudly. She was at a distinct disadvantage having no knowledge of where she was or where she was going. She made a point to head in the opposite direction from the way he was taking her but the old house probably wouldn't make a very good hideout since it seemed to be the transportation hub for the operation and there was no guarantee that the portkey to her flat was still active.

Several minutes later, she stopped to catch her breath. Formal wear and heels were definitely not useful in this context—or any other for that matter. Blasted nuisance really.

In her haste to put as much distance between herself and Imposter Ron as possible, she had gotten hopelessly turned around. All the trees looked alike in the murky darkness and the forest seemed alive with noises that caused her to jump and start. Fatigued and scared, her strained mind decided that this was all Ron's fault. If she got out of this, she was never speaking to him again.

That would show him.

Better yet, she would go to Bulgaria. People appreciated her in Bulgaria. They didn't marry skinny witches and leave her to fend for herself with a madman while they played house in America.

As she continued thinking of all the things she would do to get back at Ron, she began moving again. Not knowing where she was heading was not going to deter her. She was Hermione Granger. She didn't need a wand to kick some serious—

"Wait a minute." Regardless of the fact she was alone, she continued, "There are lights up there."

Rushing forward, she made her way quietly towards the glow. It could be dangerous but she doubted wandering around the forest for the rest of the night was going to turn out very well either. At the first sign that something was wrong, she would simply fade back into the woods and continue with Plan A.

That had been Plan B until she saw the prone figure curled up on a rough- hewn stone altar. With a startled gasp, she hurried to the altar and quickly checked the woman to make sure she was still alive.

Relieved when she felt the steady heartbeat, Hermione gently shook the unconscious heap and whispered urgently, "Cynthia . . . Cynthia! Wake up. Please wake up."

Looking around to make sure no one was coming, she continued trying to rouse the woman. Any animosity she felt towards the blonde had disappeared as she desperately tried to wake her. She needed to know that Ron was safe. She needed to hear that he hadn't been captured as well.

Feeling time slipping away from her, she couldn't help a small grin when she realized what she would have to do. "I'd say I was sorry but I'd be lying," she murmured a bit hysterically. Rearing back, she slapped Cynthia with all her might.

Seconds later, she tried to convince herself that she was not disappointed that it had worked on the first try.

"Granger, what are you doing?"

"Get up! No time for questions, we have to get out of here. Is Ron here? Is he okay? Is he hurt?"

"I thought you said there was no time for questions," Cindy answered with a faint expression of triumph. The woman sat up slowly acting like she was in no particular hurry. "You shouldn't have slapped me."

"Look, I did what I had to for us to get out of here," she explained. The air had changed since Cindy woke, it was heavy with ominous stillness. The forest had grown quiet as if waiting for something to happen and Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck raise in warning. The other woman looked unaffected. Actually she just looked angry.

"You dare lay your filthy mudblood hand on me!"

Her eyes flashed dangerously making Hermione take a step back. She wasn't afraid but she had only now figured out something very important. "A trap." And too late to go back to Plan A since out of the corner of her eye she saw half a dozen dark figures emerge from the woods.

Cynthia jumped off the altar and ordered, "Tie her down. We don't have much time."

She felt a strong pair of arms pick her up from behind as if she were lighter than a feather. Turning slightly she noted that the man was one of Cindy's so-called relatives from the wedding. He had been one of the ones she had found so shifty at the engagement party. If only she had listened to her instincts.

From the still red hair that adorned his ugly features, she gathered that the man tying her down to the stone was Imposter Ron. She managed to land a few good kicks in his stomach before he tied her legs. She shivered to think that the revolting man standing next to Cindy had caressed her earlier that night. She would never feel clean again.

"So I take it this is not about Ron," Hermione stated calmly. Cindy would have to do something a lot worse than having her henchmen chase her around and then tie her down if she wanted to see her afraid. She planned on using the last of her strength to hide the fact that she was terrified from the other woman forever. She wouldn't give her the pleasure.

"He's a stupid boy," Cindy commented with a sneer. "Attractive but stupid. He couldn't believe his good luck finding someone like me who would have him after he made a fool of himself over you for years. That's not to say he didn't have his uses . . ."

While it didn't take someone of Hermione's considerable intellect to figure out what she was referring to, she decided that a more appropriate direction for her thoughts at the moment was a method of escape. So she entertained herself by replaying the slap in her mind as she strained against her bonds.

"Crucio."

The pain was indescribable. She knew she was writhing on the altar but she had lost any control over herself. Cindy called off the curse, leaving only the lingering feeling that her body had been pulled apart and haphazardly put back together. Whimpering softly, she turned her face away so Cindy wouldn't see her cry.

"I thought we should start this interrogation off on the right foot, don't you think, Hermione? Now that you know what will happen when you refuse to give me the answers I want perhaps you'll be more reasonable."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Don't take it personally. You mean less than dirt to me, mudblood. But you happen to be in possession of some knowledge that I dearly want."

She wanted to say something witty but her head was pounding so dreadfully that she couldn't think of a single thing. "What did you do to Ron?"

"So much concern for my husband, Granger. What would people say if they heard you? The Golden Witch who helped bring down You-Know-Who lusting after another woman's husband . . . Did you know that this is not what I had planned? Not that I regret being able to teach you to respect your superiors! No, I had thought I'd cleared up this little problem when I copied your notes but they were incomplete. Where did you hide the ritual guide?"

If her brain didn't hurt, she would have probably shouted 'Aha!' at Cindy's admission. She hadn't told anybody because she was afraid she was going crazy but she thought she had seen someone right before she had been knocked out over a week ago. She wiggled her toes slightly and felt the folded parchment in her right shoe and hoped fervently Stinking Cindy wouldn't think to search her. While congratulating herself on hiding the book, she promised silently that if she lived through this she would learn a nice Lock charm so she wouldn't have to resort to hiding things in her heels. "You're looking for the Mutuus Officium ceremony."

"It looks like I've found it. All I have to do is convince you to share it with me," Cindy said with a sharp laugh.

Knowing that if she shared the ritual, she was likely to be the first participant in centuries, she set her jaw. She met Cindy's eyes for the first time since being captured and prepared herself for the pain. "Then I guess we're both in for a long night."

Understanding her meaning, Cindy gave a feral growl. She raised her wand and in a menacingly calm voice called out, "Crucio!"