Draco was just returning through the front doors from Quidditch practise, his players in tow.  They walked across the rolling lawn, up the stone steps and through the great double doors of the castle, all the while talking about their stratagems and new plays.  Sweat stuck their hair to the foreheads and a few were smeared with dirt where they had gotten knocked to the ground during practice.  Draco drew up short, however, when he spotted the well dressed wizard and witch speaking with Professor McGonagall.

He knew of the Wiggentree family, had even had dinner with them a time or two when politeness had dictated that they be invited to Malfoy Manor or vice versa.  They were Mudblood lovers and troublemakers along the same line as Dumbledore, but they were also wealthy and well loved in the wizarding world.  It was said that you would be wiser to turn your wand upon yourself than to cross a Wiggentree, because they could find even the darkest secrets of your past.  Many of their family had worked for the Ministry as spies and intelligence wizards over the years.  On the rare occasions that one of them came to the manor, his father was sure to order all new dishes and furnishings for the rooms they would be in.

The team turned off towards the Great Hall for lunch while Draco continued forward.  He paused by a suit of armour, pretending to bend down to tie his shoe, straining his ears to hear.

"I've already sent for her.  She's to meet us in Professor Dumbledore's office." 

"Minerva, tell me, what does she look like?"  The aging wizard was one Draco recognized as Albert Wiggentree.  His picture had been in the Daily Prophet more than Gilderoy Lockhart, before and after Lockhart was found to be a fraud.

"She's the exact image of her grandmother, and every bit as clever.  I can't believe I never saw it before now."

The witch next to Mr. Wiggentree gasped, tears shining in her eyes.  Draco frowned.  What was going on here?  Finally the woman spoke.  "You said that they named her 'Hermione', Minerva?"

"Yes, Hermione Granger.   She's our Head Girl as well as top of her class.  I can't wait for you to meet her.  You'll be so proud."

"Then let's not keep her waiting any longer.  Lucille, please dry your eyes.  We don't want the girl to think we're not happy to have found her.  Minerva, please lead on."  The three of them turned and headed up the stairs.  Draco straightened up, his brow furrowed.  Hermione Granger and the Wiggentrees?  They were happy to have found her?  If Granger was connected with the Wiggentrees, it was likely to change a good many things. 

Instead of joining his team for lunch, Draco headed for the dungeons.  He needed to draft a letter to his father immediately.  Lucius Malfoy would be most interested in this.

~***~

She picked an imaginary bit of fuzz from her robes for about the fifth time.  She knew that the headmaster was fighting a chuckle at her nervousness, but she didn't really care at the moment.  What if they didn't like her?  What if they didn't want anything to do with her?  What if she were wrong?

The door opened and Professor McGonagall came in, followed by a witch and wizard she didn't know.  They were well dressed and looked to be in their seventies or eighties.  Hermione stood, swallowing nervously and smoothing her school robes.

"Miss Granger, allow me to introduce Albert and Lucille Wiggentree.  They are the brother and sister of Helena Wiggentree."

"How do you do?"  Should she curtsey or something?  How does one greet long lost relatives?  Lucille seemed to know, however, because she came over with a swish of her velvet cloak and silk robes to reach Hermione.

"The very image of her."  She raised a hand clad in a fine leather glove to brush back a stray curl.  "And Head Girl as well."  Fiery brown eyes seemed to drink in every inch of Hermione's face and figure, tears threatening to fall.  "Oh, Albert… she's perfect."  The aging witch pulled Hermione to her, wrapping her arms about the girl and holding her close. 

"Now, Lucille.  There's no need to go to the other extreme.  You're going to have the poor child thinking we're all daft."  Albert Wiggentree came forward and gently pried his newly found great-niece from his sister's grasp before she managed to strangle her.  "You'll have to be patient with your aunt.  I think losing you grandmother was harder on her than anyone else.  They were quite close."

"It's all right, sir.  I don't mind."

"Bah!  No 'sir' nonsense.  Call me Uncle Albert or just Uncle, but don't call me 'sir'.  You'll make me feel old."  He laughed at his own joke as Dumbledore came to them and suggested they all have a seat before the hearth.  Tea and biscuits appeared magically on the coffee table before them as they took their places.  "So, Minerva tells us that you're the top of your class. Just like your grandmother.  Probably a genius at charms and transfigurations, and more than adequate at potions."  The wizard leaned forward, an impish gleam in his eye.  "Tell me; ever brew anything you weren't supposed to?"

"Of course not!  Miss Granger is a model student.  She wouldn't do anything illicit!"  Professor McGonagall glared at her uncle, and then gasped in shock when Hermione whispered "Once."

"Oh ho!  Do tell us what it was."

"It… it was Polyjuice potion.  I… there were some attacks on the school and I thought that one of the other students was behind it.  There was no proof, so I brewed the potion so that we could interrogate him in secret."  She was looking down at her lap, not wishing to meet Professor McGonagall's gaze.

"We?  Not just you?  Have you gotten yourself a following then, my dear?"  'Uncle Albert's' eyes sparkled with a mischievous light.

Dumbledore chuckled warmly.  "Calm down, Minerva. It was her second year.  Surely you don't expect to punish her for it now.  And besides, if memory serves, she got quite enough punishment as it was."  He looked down his long, crooked nose at Hermione, his blue eyes twinkling.  "I believe you were in the hospital wing when your last ingredient wasn't what you thought it was?"  Hermione blushed scarlet and he chuckled again.  "And as for her following, Albert, Miss Granger is fast friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley."

"Really?  Impressive friends."  Albert's eyes sparkled almost as much as Dumbledore's, but Lucille still seemed to be trying to convince herself that Hermione was real.  "Oh, Merlin's beard, Lucille!  Just ask the girl!"  Lucille jumped, withdrawing the hand that had been hovering over Hermione's hair.  She blushed a deep pink and looked down.  Albert sighed.  "Forgive us, Hermione, but I believe that the Headmaster advised you of our family's particular gift?"  The girl nodded and Albert smiled.  "Well, Lucille gets readings by touch, and she is dying to know if you'll allow her to read you.  It doesn't hurt, and it only takes a moment, but it will allow her to see the most important events in your life so far."

Lucille offered Hermione a gentle, reassuring smile, her hands now clasped in her lap.  Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, considering it, then nodded.  "All right.  I don't see what harm it could do."

Lucille smiled and began to pull off the elegant gloves.  Slender, warm fingers reached over and intertwined themselves with Hermione's.  The other adults in the room fell silent as the witch let her eyes go hazy and out of focus.  Hermione felt no difference, no hint of magic, but her aunt was obviously experiencing something.  Her lips parted and she seemed oblivious to the world around her.  Hermione stared, transfixed at the sight. 

Suddenly, Lucille gasped and released her hand.  She leaned back, her hand going to her mouth so that she bit down on the knuckle.  "Lucille?  What is it?"  Albert looked concerned.  His own hands were not covered, so he simply reached across Hermione towards his sister.  She touched his hand and the two of them sat frozen for a long moment before breaking apart.  "Oh dear."

Hermione felt an uneasy chill settle within her.  "What is it?  Was… was I wrong?  Was it… wasn't it her?"

Albert shook his head as if to clear it.  "No, Dear, you were right.  It was Helena.  There was just… an even that happened when you were an infant.  Nothing more, but quite shocking.  Best not to go into that just yet until we figure out more about what happened."  He patted her arm gently as Lucille drew her gloves on once more.  "For now, however, I want to hear all about your father and mother.  Don't leave out a single detail."

~***~

Hermione returned to the common room several hours later.  Ron practically pounced on her the second she cleared the portrait hole.  "Well? What were they like?  Were they happy to see you?"

She took a deep breath.  "They were wonderful, Ron.  Absolutely wonderful!"  She threw her arms about his neck, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.  Harry watched them from his chair in front of the heart, his face beaming.

~***~

How did she get in the dungeons?  Hermione frowned, then turned and walked to the door.  She reached out to turn the latch, but her hand passed right through it.  She frowned, licking her lips.  A soft sound coming from her left drew her attention.  Turning her head, she saw Helena sitting at a heavy, battered desk.  She was scratching on parchments with a quill.  Curious, Hermione walked towards her, passing through the corners of tables.  When she reached the desk, she saw that the girl was grading what appeared to be first year potions essays.  Apparently the Head Girl was lending a hand.  Se smiled, watching her grandmother as she penned helpful comments in the margins next to the incorrect answers, the scarlet ink glistening in the candlelight. 

The door to the dungeon room opened and both girls looked up.  A body was silhouetted in the doorway, features blacked out by the light shining behind him.  "Gregory?  Is that you?  I'm almost done here."

"Gregory?  Not that pathetic little Hufflepuff who's been sniffing after you since he came here, surely."  Riddle stepped the rest of the way into the classroom, shutting the door behind him and sliding the lock home.  He pulled out his wand and murmured a silencing charm on the walls. 

"What are you doing here?"  Helena's voice had gone to a soft whisper. 

"I haven't seen you.  I was worried about you."  He walked between the worktables, that superior smirk on his lips again.  "I thought you might be ill."

There was a snap and Hermione looked down to see that the quill in Helena's hands had broken.  "I didn't want to see you."

"Ridiculous.  How can we start our life together if we don't see one another?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I may not want a life with you?  Go away, Tom.  Turn away now and I won't tell anyone about what happened."  She shifted in her chair, her hands slipping into her robes for her wand.  She froze when he raised his own. 

"Why do you insist on making this difficult?  I'm offering you power the likes of which you never dreamed of, and all I ask from you in return is your fidelity."

"And a child.  Do you realize how silly that sounds?  You're barely eighteen, I'm only seventeen.  We've got decades left in our lives!"  She was inching away from the desk, and Hermione could tell she was trying to figure out where she could escape to.

"Life is uncertain, Helena.  People die in tragic accidents every day.  I don't want to run the risk of anything happening to you before we've the chance to become parents."

She was inching her way along the wall, not daring to take her eyes from him.  "I don't want this.  I want nothing to do with you."

He smiled, his eyes glittering with something evil and cold.  Hermione shivered from the intensity of it, wanting to yell out for Helena to run, to get out of this place before it was too late.  "My Dearest Helena, where did you ever get the impression that you had a choice?"  He indicated one of the work tables with a flick of his wand.  "Get onto the table."

She froze, pressing herself back against the cold stone of the wall.  "No."

"I grow tired of your defiance, Helena.  Get onto the table."  He started to move towards her as she continued to shake her head. 

"No, you're not going to do this to me.  Not again!  I won't allow it."

"You will allow it.  You will because I think you know exactly what I'm capable of.  I know what the Wiggentrees can do, Helena.  I don't believe for a moment that you found the Chamber of Secrets because you didn't think Hagrid could be responsible.  I think you know he wasn't responsible.  I think you saw what happened."  He reached her side, standing over her.  "What did you see?"

"I saw you.  I saw you frame Hagrid, using Aragog against him.  I saw you open the chamber.  I saw you murder Myrtle."

"A blessing for the entire school, I'm sure."  He reached into her robes and pulled out her wand, tucking it into his own pocket before he put his own wand away as well. 

"She was a sweet girl."

"Oh yes, yet another one of your precious Mudbloods.  Really, Helena, your family needs to figure out their loyalties.  Now, get onto the table."

"No!"  She threw herself at him, trying to knock him down, but he was too strong.  He grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her arms behind her, grasping her wrists in one of his hands while the other one came up to caress the side of her neck. 

"Do you have any idea how lovely you are, Helena?  All the fire and strength waiting to break free, but you're afraid of yourself."  His voice had become soft, charming.  He bent his head forward and ran his lips lightly over her jaw.  "I can set you free, Helena.  I can help you get over your fears and realize your full potential."  He lifted his lips to kiss her, only to have her wrench her face away.  The silent denial made his face twist in fury.  "Very well, have it your way!"

Hermione screamed as Riddle twisted around, throwing Helena face first over the work table.  The impact of her body sent glass beakers and vials crashing to the floor.  "I try to make things pleasant for you, Helena.  I offer you the world, and still you throw it all back in my face!"  She struggled to get up, but he pushed her back down, slamming her head against the cold wood with one hand as he used the other to jerk up her robes and skirts.  "You do have a choice, Dearest; I can clothe you in silks and jewels or I can clothe you in chains.  That is the only choice you have any longer." 

He tore away the schoolgirl knickers and let them fall away, held onto her only by the waistband.  Hermione wrench her eyes from the sight and covered her ears, trying to block out Helena's sobs.  Her hands, however, must have been insubstantial even to her, because she still heard her grandmother crying.  Helena yelped in pain for a brief moment, and then Hermione began to hear the rhythmic scraping of the table legs against the stone floor.  There were feral, grunting noises coming from Riddle now mixing with the sobs.  Hermione was crying herself, but her own cries held no weight against the horror being replayed behind her.  It seemed to go on forever, as though it would never end, until there was a low moan behind her and the scraping stopped. 

Hermione lowered her hands, but she would not turn around.  She was gasping for breath, her heart shattering within her.  There was silence except for the muffled crying of Helena.  Then…"I wouldn't say anything if I were you, Helena."  He sounded breathless, winded from his exertions.  "You know full well I have no qualms against killing, and there are too many people you care about."  He gave a short chuckle.  "You do give your heart too easily, don't you My Love.  I'd hate to see it broken."

~***~

Once again Hermione shot up in her bed.  Her breath was making clouds in the air.  Her heart felt like it was about to break out of her chest.  She blinked, gathering her wits about her. She wasn't in the dungeons, she was in her room.  Riddle wasn't here now; he had been here in the past.  The past, the part of time that the Wiggentrees could see.  No shady "might-bes", but a solid "what was".  And he had used her, had thrown her grandmother face down on a dirty classroom table.  Violated her, and then feigned affection for her. 

She didn't remember leaving her bed or running down the stairs to the common room.  She didn't hear the Fat Lady's indignant protests at her leaving Gryffindor Tower or see any of the scolding looks from the few portraits still awake.  She ran down the corridors and stairs to where the dungeon door was and pushed through it without slowing down.  She ran past her potions classroom and rounded a corner.  The Bloody Baron was patrolling the halls and spotted her.

"You there!  Gryffindor!  What are you doing down here?!"  She didn't seem to hear him, but plunged right through him, heedless of the icy chill that sunk right to her bones.  The ghost turned and glared, but then took off through a wall next to him.  He made his way through the infrastructure of the castle until he reached the Potions Master's bedchambers.  "Severus!  Wake!"

Snape opened his eyes and looked around.  The pale spectre hovering at the foot of his bed was not a welcome sight.  "What is it?"

"A Gryffindor in the dungeons.  The Head Girl, though it's hard to recognize her in a night rail. She's upset about something.  She ran right through me as though I wasn't even there."  He seemed indignant at this part.

"The Head Girl?"  Severus threw his covers aside and sat up, reaching for his bed robe.  "Where was she headed?"

"Towards the old classrooms, moving like all the hounds of Hell were chasing after her."

The wizard was stepping into his slippers as he knotted his robe.  "Not all of them.  Just the one."

He knew the dungeon corridors well enough to know where the old classrooms were.  The noise coming from inside one of them allowed him to quickly find the girl. She was in one of the smaller of the old classrooms, used when there were fewer students and they hadn't needed so much space.  He found her with the leg of a chair in her hand, using it in an attempt to beat one of the legs off of an upended worktable.  Her hair was wild and lit up like fire in the moonlight coming through the small window high on the wall behind her.  Her eyes were distant, vacant, and he recognized it for what it was.  She had been caught in another vision, and she had not yet fully broke free of the trance.

"Miss Granger."  He assumed his most authoritative voice, but she didn't react.  Stalking carefully towards her, he could make out words she was muttering under her breath.

"Silks or chains… silks or chains… you can rot in your bloody silks and chains."  The first leg came loose and she dropped the chair leg over where the rest of it lay.  Her hands gripped the table leg firmly and she began to wrench at it with all the considerable strength her slight form could manage. 

"Miss Granger."  He was closer now, but she still didn't seem to hear him.  The wood of the table leg was beginning to splinter under her efforts.  He reached out and gripped her hard on her shoulders, forcing her to face him.  "MISS GRANGER!"

She blinked at him, but the vacant look was still there.  It was as if she didn't see him, but someone else.  "No… let me go!  I don't want this!  I want nothing to do with you!"  His gut twisted as his worst fears were confirmed.  She had been forced to witness another rape, another humiliation heaped upon someone close to her by Voldemort.  She struggled in his gasp, forcing him to do the only thing he could do.

The sound of the slap echoed off the walls.  Hermione ceased struggling and finally woke the rest of the way up.  Her breathing was ragged and harsh, her body shaking.  She looked around her, and then met Snape's eyes.  "P…Professor?"  She stopped, clamping her lips shut.  He saw her shoulder shoulders convulse and recognized the signs of what was coming next.  With a quick twist he turned her so she faced away from him, allowing her to vomit up whatever was left in her stomach from dinner.  His eyes drifted towards the door where the Bloody Baron had floated in.

"Summon one of the house elves to clean this up."  Once she had finished, he reached down and scooped her up into his arms.  "And tell them to burn that blasted table."  The ghost nodded and moved aside as he carried the now exhausted girl from the room.