"Didn't he tell you there is a draught that might lessen your symptoms? Is the same one the Veelas use when turns out their selected mates doesn't reciprocate the Veela's feelings" He explained, there was a slight inflection of curiosity and confusion in his voice.

Hermione threw her head to the side and laughed. It was dried and humorless. Her expression said everything about how she felt. "Of course not." Brown eyes adopted a darker shade, then added, "Let's just say that would have been unnecessary according to his plans."

"As I was saying," The girl extended her arms on the backrest of the sofa, getting herself comfortable for the hardest part of this tale. "One-week later Dumbledore called me to his office again. This time though, he said that we should go somewhere else to talk. We took the Floo network from his office to Diagon Alley. He didn't elaborate much on the reason why we were there; later on, I just assumed he wanted to cheer me out for how sour things have been in my life recently. You know him, he is always being a kind and considerate man..."

Venom started to accumulate under her tongue. "I tell myself that never would I have been capable of seeing it coming. No matter how much I like to think I would."


Hermione and Dumbledore sat in the upper terrace of one of the many picturesque coffee shops around the alley. Today the weather was pretty nice, the girl notice. The usual grey clouds were replaced with clear blue-sky, warm rays of light filtered through the leafy tall trees, and the soft breeze carried around the sweet smells of flowers from the nearby gardens. Sweet mid-afternoons filled with happy moments, not many days were like this at this time of the year.

From time to time Hermione's eyes traveled towards the people passing by, leisurely walking down the narrow streets. Some of them were window shopping, like those children who gathered at the corner of the street, hoping to take a peek through the window's display at this year's new broom models. Many others enjoyed the shopping opportunities that this season had to offer.

Many couples walked around hand by hand, sharing tender looks and blown-kisses. Families walked around with their babies in a stroller. To the brown-eyed girl, everyone looked brighter, cheerful, relaxed. Like there was nothing wrong and everything right in their lives.

At that moment, she heard the squeals of laughter coming from some of the children nearby.

And all she could think of was that she wanted to mute their stupid laughs.

She looked down at her table. Her tea was cold. Untouched.

So far, Dumbledore has been doing only small talk, about her grades, the weather, anecdotes of his life at Hogwarts. For what she could only nod and answer politely when asked. She truly wasn't in the mood to talk or to have company, of any sort. Wasn't that obvious? And, what was Dumbledore trying to do? To cheer her up? Doesn't he have more pressing matters than trying to worry about a teenage girl?

Maybe he did feel guilty, after all.

'Or maybe he wants to tell me something important'

Whatever his intentions might be, the brunette just wanted to be left alone, so she can drown further into her misery. Now she had to pretend she was listening to the professor telling another anecdote of his younger days.

'Half smile, eyes forward, nod every time he makes a small pause in the conversation, stop smiling if he stops smiling, and blink often.' She wondered if that was enough to fool the headmaster.

'Probably not' Her mind supplied, but she trusted that he wasn't going to call her on that.

She took a sip of her cold tea, feeling the unsavory liquid passing through her trachea all the way to her stomach.

It tasted disgusting.

She smiled again.

Things hadn't improved for her. And something told her that they weren't meant to improve no matter how much she wished to. The restlessness she felt hadn't lessened at all, thankfully it hadn't increased, but as it was, this horrible tugging and need in her chest, she couldn't properly function.

As if this wasn't the only thing to deal with, she was pretty sure the friendship with Harry and Ron would take much time to be repaired. For the moment, they were exchanging forced polite words between them; it felt unnatural and awkward as if to say the wrong word would damage further the crumbling foundation of their relationship.

It was their unwillingness to sympathize with her situation that was crushing her the most. They thought she had some fault in what was happening to her. Their stubbornness and arrogance, for pretending to understand something they had no idea at all, was the main reason that the brunette felt so frustrated with them.

But despite all this, she didn't want to lose them. People say time heals everything, maybe her supposed 'betrayal' with time would soon be forgotten. Then, everything would return to normal.

Hermione did a mental note to visit Neville at the hospital as soon as she could, Yesterday, she heard from the grapevine that he finally had woken up. She wanted to apologize personally, going against all her fears of being shunned by him as well.

"…Don't you think?" Dumbledore asked, displaying a small knowing smile on his lips. The brunette blinked, coming out her reflections. He lowered his head looking at her over his half-moon spectacles, the twinkle in his eye, and his tiny smile told her everything.

"I'm sorry, professor, I've got a little sidetracked with my own thoughts." Her cheeks blushed slightly, embarrassed for being caught.

The man smiled lightly, "I understand." The knowing look on his expression said that he really understood. "There is no need to apologize, Miss Granger."

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. When his eyes reconnected with the brown ones, his blue eyes had turned serious and sober, silently implying that he wished to hold the girl's attention this time "My dear, there is something that I've been meaning to talk to you about." He straightened his back, reclining towards the table, then placed both arms on it as support.

Hermione suddenly felt that she was again in the headmaster's office and not in a coffee shop.
She gave herself a pat on the back. Her suspicions were correct, this was about something other than an intent to make her feel better.

"You know as well as I that when someone becomes infected with your current 'issue' the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures should be informed. 2 years ago, I omit to notify the department to protect you against the backlash that this would entail. Trust me, I still stand by it, the Ministry must not know." He said in earnest. "Having said that, I believe with this new development, it'll be sensible that we should at least explain it to your parents."

The brunette dropped heavily on her chair. The Headmaster wanted her to tell her parents about being a werewolf? Just the very thought of telling them made her hands sweat. "Why now?" She asked a tad defensive. "Why not the first summer, after I became infected?""The main reason is that you are starting to present physical symptoms…" Hesitated for a moment,"…due to this new development with Madame Lestrange; while at the moment everything you are showing could be attributed towards lack of sleep and stress. It wouldn't be credible in the next months. Eventually, people will start to notice. Specifically, your parents."

He was right, she looked tired all the time, started losing weight, and the constant anxiety she felt in her chest was sometimes was visibly maddening.

In Hogwarts nobody will question it, after all, next week starts the exam terms. But in summer, it'll be harder to hide it from her family. Not even charms could help hide her appearance all the time without the risk of taxing herself further.

"I trusted you that during your summer vacations you were very careful with drinking the wolfsbane, as I regularly advised you to. Therefore, I saw no need to trouble you or your family with this." His eyes didn't stray from her own, not even for a second. "I think it'll be better for you and your parents that I'm present, not that I expect that something might go wrong, but in the sense to support you as the authority of the school."

His arguments were logical. Her parents needed to know so they wouldn't worry unnecessarily.

"I'm don't have to tell them about the imprinting thing, right?"

"No, I can't imagine they react calmly to that."

He was right about that. Her family wouldn't even believe it. Actually, she still couldn't believe it either. Hermione truly appreciated Dumbledore's support; Merlin knows she hasn't been getting any recently.

"When would you want to do it, professor?"

The man cast Tempus with his hand, it was late-afternoon. "I think now would be a good time as any. If that's alright with you?"

'Now? This is all very sudden…'

Seeing the hesitancy from the girl, The Headmaster spoke once more "Miss Granger I know you have your doubts, and rightly so. Nevertheless, I wouldn't be telling you this if didn't deem it necessary." There was a sense of urgency in his tone.

'Summer was 2 months away, why was it so important to do it now?' Her brain urged to consider this proposal meticulously, to foresee every problem may appear with her family. 'Or maybe the professor is right, the sooner the better. Rip like a band-aid'

Then, she heard again it, the squeal of a child's laughter from the nearby table.

The brunette saw the expectant look from Dumbledore and impulsively relented to his proposition, anything to leave this place, she was at two more bursts of childish laughter away from hexing the next kid into oblivion.

They apparated on the other side of the street, just in front of her home.

Hermione looked around at the neighborhood where she grew up. It was the typical suburbs of London, peaceful and quiet. There weren't many fond memories of this place, as she never cared for it. Her freshest memories were from the children who lived around here and never wanted to play with her. They used to bully her for…She didn't know for what exactly. For being a know-it-all, perhaps. That's how sometimes she spent her afternoons, being picked on often by the kids of the street, which later led her to end up crying on her mother's lap.

The best memories were the ones she spent with her parents, like how her father used to tell her silly stories before bedtime and how her mom used to cheer her up after a bad day in school by bringing her favorite food. And although both of them weren't present as much as she would have liked, because they were always loaded with work, she cherished those family moments in-between.

She loved the home but disliked the rest.

The street was empty, it appeared to be that the neighbors hadn't come back from work. Something very unusual, it was almost 6 p.m. Her parent's car wasn't parked in the garage entry either.

As if Dumbledore had read her mind, he said "if they are not home, we could wait for them inside. With your permission, of course." There it was again, the extremely tenuous urgency in his voice, covered by casualness. She bit her lip. Her gut said that Dumbledore was hiding something from her.'Or maybe my lack of proper sleep is having its toll on me' The girl reasoned. Assuming she was seeing things that were not there.

She nodded, accepting the wizard's proposal. It wouldn't do to stay outside where someone may see them.

As they crossed the street, she saw that the wheat-colored painted house had a front garden guarded by a low white fence. Finally, her mother had sown the dahlias she wanted but always complained she never had the time to plant. Pride stirred on the girl's heart, they were beautiful, her mother did a nice job. But again, her mother never did a sloppy job. She tried to instill on her the phrase: If you are going to do it, do it well. Otherwise don't do it.

Probably his dad hammered the fence, the brunette considered, if anything could be said about how uneven it looked. He should have followed her mom's advice.

Her thoughts drifted to the reason she was here, a jolt of anxiety hit her chest. 'What would they think of me once they know?' She couldn't bear the thought of some negative reaction coming from them.

The door was locked. With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore opened it, allowing the girl to enter first.

Hermione took small steps towards the living room; everything was very clean and in proper order, probably her parents hiring a cleaning service. They didn't have the time to be this tidy.

Many photographs of them and her together were placed on the mantle shelf of the chimney. Some of them were from the vacation house in Ireland. They looked so happy. On the center table, there were, carefully pile up, the gardening magazines that she read to help her mother with her first project of gardening. From her position, she could see that the dinner table was full of paperwork, probably invoices, insurance papers, and expenses from their practice.

Everything looked so familiar. The presence of her parents was everywhere in the living room.

Then, why suddenly being inside the house felt so wrong?

"Do you think your parents would mind if we were to prepare some tea?" Asked Dumbledore, sitting on the large grey sofa in front of her. That meant she was the one to prepare the tea.

"No, they won't. I'll do us some" Trying not let her uneasiness show.

"Thank you, dear"

Ignoring the headmaster's gentle smile, she headed to the kitchen. As soon as the girl was sure she was out of his hearing, a curse came under her breath. Putting both of her hands on the kitchen worktop as it to hold herself, she took a deep breath, held it for 5 seconds, and exhaled. Hermione couldn't deny it any longer, there was a new uneasiness in her. But that could be attributed to her imprinting symptoms mixed with the concern about how her parents would react to the news.

Maybe it was this that led her to see things where there were none. Everything was in her head.

Maybe.

'…Or not…'

She didn't know anymore.

'Am I missing something?'

Dispelling those thoughts for a moment and concentrating on the task at hand, the brunette opened the upper pantry. Her parents didn't fancy tea as much as fancied coffee. Turkish coffee, Indian coffee, local coffee, and some strange mixes of African coffee grain. There weren't many options when it came to tea; she wondered if she should serve 4 cups. Her parents wouldn't delay any longer surely.

'What would the headmaster like?' She tried to remember the flavor of the tea she drank last week in his office. However, the flavor didn't arrive at her mind. Instead, her uneasiness rose again. Memories of that the meeting between them began to flash before her eyes. She saw his facial reactions when they talked about her imprinting symptoms. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the memory with the utmost detail.

And there it was, like a fisher harpooning a whale, pushed by her subconscious, a scene shed light into her uneasiness: One fearful look flashed on his eyes, only to be buried again by his sympathetic and concerned gaze.

'There is something he is not telling me. It definitely has something to do with me.' she concluded. 'But why does it involve my parents?' And, where were they? The brunette knew that by 5:30 pm everyone was at home, including the rest of the people around the neighborhood. Hermione's mind was running as fast as she could, thinking of all the possibilities. But nothing made enough sense.

"Is there something wrong?" Asked the headmaster, standing a few meters behind her, close from the kitchen's threshold.

Hermione almost jumped to the ceiling. Gathering all her will to be as casual as possible, she turned around with a small smile. "I was simply wondering what kind of the tea would like to drink, I- I think we have earl grey" she lifted the box to show "green, black and jasmine."

Dumbledore stared at her flashing a sad smile; regret filled his blue eyes.

'He knows…'

"I'm sorry Hermione" His face quickly took another shape, the corner of his mouth went downwards, his usual blue colored eyes turned a stormy blue.

"…Professor?" The man had a severe look in his gaze. It felt very wrong.

"I didn't mean it to be this way. Never would I have imagined two weeks ago doing this to you, my child." She could see how his face grew tense.

"I knew you were very smart from the very beginning. You are extremely brilliant, my dear. And after you got infected, you became extraordinarily more so. I think you tried to hide it, but with time it became very evident." A half-smile, that didn't reach his eyes appeared on his face "Suddenly you didn't have to spend more time studying, the quantity of the books you read had doubled, according to the librarian. Given tasks by the professors that were time-consuming, you often finished them earlier than anyone else. Four professors told me you broke personal records from their past students."

Hermione could only try to swallow the knot that was forming on her throat. His words didn't sound like an appraisal. Why was he telling her all this? And how just did he know all that? Has he been watching her?

"You are the brightest witch of an entire generation, perhaps more than one." Still didn't sound like a compliment, instead, it sounded as pity. A pity she had to be who she was.

"Nevertheless, you have fallen for Bellatrix charms. I know it was not intended, but there is no going back from there. That night I'm sure Voldemort knew something was wrong with you, and if I know him, which I do well, you have his attention. He'll use your predicament to his advantage. With you, he would have the two brightest witches in his frontlines. And that, my dear, can make all the difference in winning the war that is coming."

'How dare he?! I would never do something like that—!' Hermione opened her mouth to protest but the wizard promptly rose his hand "I'm sure that you are about to say that you would never join his ranks, but my child…" His soft voice sounded all-knowing "Once you experience the feeling to be with your mate. Not even the potion would be much help, you'll eventually turn on us. You have become a liability that I can't afford to ignore or forgive."

'What potion? A liability? Afford?'

Before the brunette could even digest properly what he was saying, the headmaster continued talking "I'm so sorry, my dear. It is all my fault. If hadn't manipulated the hat, if it weren't for me you wouldn't even be involved in all this." His sounded pained. The regret and torment reflected on his eyes.

"What does it mean?" The girl uttered; her throat constricted.

'Manipulate the hat? ...Oh.' Hermione grasped the edges of the counter tightly. Her instincts told her to run. Her brain told her to listen, she needed to know, to understand what was happening.

"You were supposed to be sorted into Ravenclaw, your original house. But I needed someone like you to befriend Harry."

'That way I can help him with his tasks, keep him alive at the very least.' The girl completed the un-uttered words.

Shock, anger, fear all manifested in her chest at the same time. Her cheeks were wet and her lips trembled "So, you used me? All this time I've just been a pawn in your schemes, you blo…" She stopped. Her hands trembled, whether it was from fury or panic, she wasn't sure. "Why are we here?" A painful sob escaped her lips, why was he telling her all this here? Why not somewhere else? Why now? What was the purpose?

Then it dawned on her.

Her throat dried up, her heart hammered so fast and violently that she could feel the palpitations even on the tip of her fingers.

'Oh god, oh god, no! no! no!' Terror crept in her. Forcing to open her constricted throat, she asked: "Dumbledore, where are my parents?" Dumbledore's eyes filled with shame "WE ARE MY PARENTS?!" She shouted

"I had to… Otherwise, it wouldn't work, I'm so sorry." The pained look he gave her only served to exacerbate the turmoil of her emotion. "Believe me, my dear, that if do this is only for the greater good." He raised his wand and pointed at her.

"I promise it won't be painful"

He was going to kill her.


"You can stop telling lies Miss Granger, if Dumbledore wanted you dead, you'll be dead and not here." Said the man annoyed, seemingly convinced of her deceitful words.

Hermione sneered, taking insult at his comment. Yet it did not escape her how the man phrased his sentence. Severus wasn't surprised at Dumbledore's attempts to kill the brunette.

'Interesting.'

"As if I could make this up. Maybe if you'd realize that I wasn't finished, you'll know how did I escape."

"Enlighted me." He said skeptically

Hermione pulled out a coin from her pocket, the same one the Dark Lord gave her earlier. She held it between the tip of her fingers "Recognize this?" The coin was not an ordinary coin at all, it was onyx made; red snakes moved over both sides of the coin entwining with each other. It was a variation of the death eater's insignia.

"Is one of the Lord's designed Portkeys."

"Indeed. 4 days before the meeting, the morning after I put on my robes, I found a coin, similar to this one here, and a note in my pocket. It read: When in mortal danger hold it in your hand for ten seconds."

Snape stayed silent, deep in thought. Hermione observed the exact moment when the man was able to reach the answer. His lips faintly pressed into a thin line, his left eyebrows twitched a little, and his eyes opened imperceptibly bigger.

"Pettigrew." He finally said.

"Yeah." The girl confirmed with a smile "Later I learned that he infiltrated Hogwarts in his Animagus form to make a little delivery."

"How convenient" The man added

"Extremely so!" She sniffed at his choice of words. 'Convenient' didn't even begin to describe it. "For a second, I thought it was from the Order, but they never used snakes as symbolism. And, the idea that belonged to the Slytherins just sounded plain ridiculous. I was in the process of research it when everything happened" The girl explained.

"Lucky me, I kept it with me at all times." She put the coin again on her robe's pocket.

"Then what happened afterward?" Snape asked.

A breathy chuckle left her throat. "Uh-uh, No. I think that's enough answers to your question, it is my turn." The brunette decided that this was as far as she was going to go with him, he didn't need to know his interactions with Voldemort. There was no purpose there.

"The question was how did you end up here" He insisted.

"And that is the answer, the Lord rescued me with a Portkey he gave me."

"So what? He saved your life and now you feel that you own him?"

Hermione's gaze hardened; she didn't appreciate the accusation in his tone, not the simplification of something so complex.

"Oh, I'm sure if I go back to Hogwarts the benevolent headmaster will receive me with open arms." She took the sarcastic pathway. "But no, I'm only here because the living accommodations are fantastic, the Malfoy's love having me here. And the food. Have you tried the breakfast? It's to die for. Otherwise, I would have left already." She hit her forehead with an open palm. "Oh, wait! I forgot. I'm supposed to be dead. And I have nowhere to go."

Really? What was Snape trying to get out of this question? She asked herself. If the potions master hadn't figured it out by now, he would soon.

"Now is your turn to answer. Or you might as well just bloody leave" Her thumb pointed backward at the door.

"Ask." Said the man, unimpressed by her whole charade.

Hermione smiled. "I must say, Professor. Harry, Ron, and I had our suspicions that you were on the Lord's side, but seeing it for the first time is something else." She rose from her seat, pacing around the room with a meditative look on her face.

"How is it possible that Dumbledore doesn't know anything about your double life? Wait no, that is not my question." The girl was in a sort of analytic trance, where her mind ran faster than her mouth. "You and I know that Dumbledore has not a single hair of stupid on his head. That man seems to have eyes everywhere. The fact that he knew I would befriend Harry Potter, so I could help him. It makes me believe that he has always been aware of the dangers we were exposed at Hogwarts." A pity she probably would never know the truth about that one.

"He knew I've become smarter due to the Lycanthropy. How he immediately hatched a plan to kill me, because that'll be the easiest way to avoid future problems. And look at me, he turned out to be right about that last one too!" This was one of the few times she dared to objectively appreciative and admire The Headmaster's great display of wit

Hermione held backrest of the sofa where she sat moments ago, now from behind. She stared hard at the Potions Master. "No, you cannot fool Dumbledore especially if you live too close to him. So how do you do it, Severus?... You see, during our brief time together I've reached two hypotheses…" she narrowed her eyes.

"…Three actually."

'I think I got you…' she hoped she was right.

"One. You are too good at subterfuge, incredibly so, that you have managed to fool the man. Which I'm sure you can do, but not for so long. Not for all these years. Two. He knows and the only reason you are breathing is that you have some use to him." She made a dramatic pause, searching in his eyes for the right answer.

"Hypothesis three: You are spying for him."

The man didn't even blink at her accusations. Hermione would be lying if she didn't feel disappointed by his lack of reaction.

Snape stood up from the sofa, calmly smoothed his sleeves, then pulled down the front of his robe. His stoic façade never wavered. He took two steps towards the girl, the sofa serving as a division between them.

"Granger, somehow you think you have the upper hand here." He spoke at a very sedated pace. "It looks to me that your interaction or more like the lack of it with Bellatrix tells me that she has no idea about your condition, and how much power she has over you."

Hadn't Severus heard that defensiveness is the first sign of guilt?

"Should I go and let her know? I'm sure she'll be ecstatic to hear it." The threat didn't hold any hesitation from his part. "You think I'm a spy, go right now and tell our lord. With what evidence, I wonder? I have been his most loyal follower for years"

Hermione snorted "You don't have to get all defensive." She watched him walk towards the bedroom's door, the sound of his heavy steps muffled by the carpet. "It looks to me that we are going to become each other's secret-keepers." She added.

He abruptly turned around. "There are no secrets to keep, but facts Miss Granger, and you seem to lack in that area." The girl had to concede that statement. Still, that didn't waver her conviction that she was right. "You are just a child playing a grown-up game, Granger. You better stop pretending that you understand and actually try to understand…" The 'Or you'll die' remained un-uttered. Then, he proceeded to open the door.

"Severus!" He stopped under the frame door "You came for answers, because he didn't tell you what he did, did he? … Don't tell him I'm alive. I want it to be a surprise." And with that, he closed the door. Whether he would abide by her request or not, that was something that time would tell.

The girl's fingers dug into the cushion of the sofa, as she replayed the professor's last words in her mind.

"I'm not a child" The girl muttered, she has more experience, knowledge and magical abilities than anyone of her age.

Since she changed sides, Hermione has been working diligently, studying, and practicing new spells. Single-handedly, she liberated 12 death eaters, in the process proving herself to be worthy of belonging in Voldemort ranks. The Lord satisfied with her performance so far, had granted rank over most of his followers.

And just right now she uncovered Severus' secret for Merlin's sake! Something that, surprisingly, Voldemort hadn't realized. And yet still, she was regarded as a bloody child.

"Damn it!" With a swift move of her wand, she exploded the sofa where the Potions Master sat earlier, then proceed to lift the center table and throw it at the ceiling. In no time, vials and papers of no or little value to her, along with the pieces of the former sofa began to burn altogether, exploding vials and pieces of wood shot to the walls.

By the time she was finished, the place looked as if a small tornado took place in the middle of the room. Large pieces of glass were incrusted into the wall, in the damage, the wallpaper was tore apart. The carpet had burned patches everywhere; the wood and pieces of fabric lay all across the room.

Satisfied with the damage, the girl walked towards the bed; removing her clothes with every step she took. She pointed her wand at the mattress to remove any destructed piece of material. As her head submerged into the pillow, she murmured. "I just want retribution." Her eyelids closed and the last thought in her mind, like every other night, was about her parents.


She couldn't gather the strength to ask again as his face said everything she needed to know. Terror froze her muscles, not even when she faced the troll with Harry and Ron, not even when she saw the Basilisk, not when she was bitten by Remus has she ever felt such a gripping claw crushing her from inside.

Something else began to stir among the cold fear. A sense of betrayal started to creep insidiously through her consciousness. From the pit of her stomach to all the extremities in her body, wrath swallowed whatever fear she felt seconds ago.

The face contorted in an ugly shape.

"Why?! Why did you do it?" her voice spat burning acid. Fury was drowning her lungs and stomach, her chest hurt as if her ribcage was crushing her organs. The feeling could only be compared to when she transformed into a werewolf. An asphyxiating urge incited her to tear him apart with her bare fingers.

If only she could… She would kill him.

Out of nowhere, a whisper in her mind reminded her of the coin.

A frantic hand quickly went into the back of her pocket, held the coin for dear life. 10 seconds the note said.

"All because I imprinted on Bellatrix?!"

"Trust me, my dear. If there was another reliable option, I would have taken it in a heartbeat. I'm so sorry, Hermione." His words ran over her head, for she had all her senses focused on the wand aiming at her.

His wrist made an elegant twist. A bright light blinded her eyes.

Hermione disappeared.


A loud crack resonated in what appeared to be an abandoned room at first sight.

Hermione lied on her back, flat on a wooden floor. Her wet eyes were greeted with the sight of rafters having several cobwebs scattered between the poles and ceiling. The heavy scent of dust reached her nose. She stayed there, not moving a single finger. Her agitated breath began to adopt a gentler pace. A few seconds later, her heart didn't want to jump from her chest anymore.

During the first seconds, her breath had finally returned to normal. That was when she felt the first jerk on her right shoulder. Instinctively, her left hand raised to touch the muscle, just the simple effort to lift her was enough to send another jolt of pain. Wetness over the pained spot followed after that single movement. Her fingers reached lightly over the wetted cloth.

Her fingers were tinted with red. Blood.

Adrenaline had finally left her body. What started as a tolerable pain, quickly morphed into saliva spattering soft of pain. It felt as if someone was placing red coal over an open wound. Hermione opened her mouth yet no sound came from it, shock mixed with an open injury had stolen her voice.

The blood had extended to her chest. In just a short moment, she found herself once again scared for her life. Swallowing a bit of pain, she took a deep breath and howled. The girl howled for help.

Dizziness started to dull her senses. Her sight was blurry.

Soon, she heard footsteps from the lower floor. The floor shook a little with every approaching step.

She was cold.

"Master! She has arrived just like you said she would." The voice sounded familiar. The girl had heard it before…Somewhere.

Her eyelids dropped against her will.

"Bring her." A rough voice, a man.

"She is hurt."

"Put her on a bed."

Everything went dark after.


"Hello, ladybug." A lively voice came from behind.

Hermione turned her head to see her mother, wearing a beautiful white summer dress. Her beautiful brown hair rose with the wind and a radiant, yet little mischievous smile painted her lips. Her mom always had that look when she had a surprise for her.

"Mom!" The brunette ran towards her mother, her arms engulfed her in a thigh hug, pressing as hard as she could.

Her mother released a small chuckle "What's gotten into you?"

"I missed you so much." Said the girl, her voice muffled by her mother's shoulder. Her mom smelled just like always, lavender, jasmine, and a pint of rosemary. She took a deep breath and again something inside her told her that perhaps she won't be able to smell her after today.

Her mother hugged her as softly and firm as she knew how to. "Darling, I was out just for five minutes."

"Look! I bought this dress today." Hermione took a step back to appreciate the white dress with floral embroidery. "What do you think?"

"You look great." Replied Hermione with a big smile. To the brunette, her mother would always be beautiful and elegant in whatever she wore.

"Just great?" Another voice came from her right "She looks like a goddess to me." Her father broke in, walking towards them. He wiggled his eyebrows separately in a silly flirty manner while he looked at his wife and daughter. That never failed to make Hermione laugh out loud.

"Dad! I missed you so much" Her dad was caught by surprise as the brunette threw herself in his arms. He crushed her to her chest "I missed you too, my little ladybug." The girl closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of her father.

Her parents briefly shared a bittersweet look.

As Hermione let go of the embrace, curious eyes roamed the surroundings; a sense of nostalgia touched her. They were at the vacation house in Ireland; she loved this place as a child. There was an open field behind their home, always fresh and vibrant grass from spring to autumn. And in spring and summer wildflowers mantled the field as far as her eyes could reach.

She loved to pick the wild lilies scattered on the field with her mom, and later put them into a flower vase. Or how the three of them stargazed at night spotting stars and planets, her parents explaining her of the existence of galaxies far beyond this one. Or how her dad used to give piggyback rides around the field when she was a little girl. There were so many fond memories of this place.

What a shame they had sold the house.

Her once happy smile slowly shrunk into a frown.

They sold the house long before her acceptance letter to Hogwarts showed in the mail. She turned to face her parents, who were looking at her tenderly.

It was as if gravity had doubled on earth. Moving her legs seemed like a difficult task, the oxygen felt less, even swallowing felt impossible to do. "Mom, dad why are we here?"

"My sweetest, girl" Her voice was tender, like a soothing touch. Her mother approached her, with both hands held the girl's face, gently removing the tears that were spilling from her eyes. "Your father and I are so proud of you. You are the best daughter a parent could ask for, my sweet ladybug. Don't ever forget that"

No matter how much love reflected her mother's eyes, she felt like choking…

"We are so happy that we got to know you," Her father said, as he rested his arm over her shoulders, firmly hugging her around the neck. Both faces showed how proud they were of her.

They looked happy, content.

Like someone had grabbed her by the throat and now their thumbs her pushing deeply into her trachea.

"But we have to go now." Said her mother, still with a smile on her face.

Hermione's eyes opened wide; there was a stab in the chest, tearing apart her organs into several pieces. It must have been her lungs because she could barely breathe or perhaps her stomach, because she wanted to throw up. She felt like dying.

"No, no, no, please, no." Tears spilled freely, "I want to stay with you, please just let me be forever with you. Mom, dad. Please!" She held onto her parent's bodies for dear life. "Please, please don't leave me. I don't want to be alone."

"Never forget us…"


Hermione woke up on a bed, drenched in sweat, with tears running through her cheeks and breathing heavily.

'A dream?' Yet, she could hardly remember what was about. Her head was dizzy, her body ached everywhere, and the tugging in her chest began to drone over her chest.

She quickly pulled the hem of her shirt to peek at her shoulder and examine the injury. The injury, although close, had left a reddish, large round scar all above her shoulder closely extending to the collar bone. It was ugly and probably would scar. But at least it seemed thoroughly healed.

"…Bastard. Monster. How could he?" Hermione cursed under her breath. Fingers threaded between chestnut hair, trying to digest what had transpired. How could Dumbledore do this to her? Her mind couldn't wrap around the concept that a man, famous for representing everything that was good, how could he discarded her so easily under the idea that she would side with Bellatrix Lestrange.

A sob left from clenched teeth.

And if it had to kill her, why did it had to involve her parents? It didn't make sense to her. Yet she knew somehow it made sense to Dumbledore.

So many questions muddling in her head, so many feelings gathering in her chest. This not time to cry, she told herself. She would not cry, not until she knew where she was and who had helped her.

Not until she figured it out where would she go from here.

"Where am I?"

Her feet left the bed, stumbling towards the only window in the room, Hermione saw the sun setting in on the horizon. It seemed that the house was on open space as there wasn't anything on the visible on the terrain but only tall yellowed grass and far away mountains. There wasn't any sort of visible landmark from this angle of the house.

She turned around to inspect the room, everything looked old. The only three pieces of furniture look fragile, a small table on the other side of the room, the bed, and a chair next to it, which she noticed her cloak hung from the backrest. She quickly walked towards it and searched for her wand in the robe's pockets.

It wasn't there.

"Great." Whoever helped her had her wand. 'Now what?'

Two knocks came from the door, halting the girl's thoughts. As it opened, a very short man showed up; long frizzy hair on the sides and with a bald patch on top, his clothes tattered and dirty, his facial features could only be described as rat-like. She recognized him instantaneously.

The grey-haired man addressed her with an indifferent look as if he had never seen her before. "Good you are awake; my master wants to see you. Don't make him wait." Said Pettigrew with his rat-like squeaky voice. Not waiting for a reply, he closed the door again.

His master, as in Voldemort nonetheless, the girl thought. So that was the voice she heard at the beginning, he cured her. Or maybe Pettigrew did, under the order of Voldemort. He was the one who gave her the coin, he was the one to rescue her; he wanted her alive.

Dumbledore was right. Voldemort had taken an interest in her.

Once again, too many thoughts. Too many questions. Just one path, she knew that for now the only path available was moving forward.

With no wand in hand and nowhere to run, she concluded her best bet was just to talk with the man. Walking out of the room, the brunette assumed that this was the top floor of the house, in some sort of spacious attic. This was the place she landed; the large stain of dried blood absorbed by the wood gave it away. Unconsciously, she reached for her shoulder.

Climbing down the stairs, the brunette arrived in a large and barely illuminated room. She looked around taking in the décor or more like the lack of it. The emerald green wallpapers were almost torn from the walls, there wasn't any decorating the walls but the tattered paper. The furniture, although it didn't look as moth-eaten like the ones in the room she slept in, still looked very decrepit. At least it was dusted, the girl noticed it. A red carpet covered the wood floor, yet still, with every step she took the wood would creak under her weigh. Would Voldemort live here? She wondered. There weren't any sounds except the fire crackling in the chimney located on the other side of the room, and the ones she did with every step.

She saw two tall seats were placed in front of the fire.

"Come closer, Hermione" A rough voice called her name. Her heartbeat accelerated, yet undeterred by her own fear, the girl stepped closer to the source of the voice. As she approached the black seats, a loud hiss came from a giant snake near to her feet. She gasped at the sight, taking two steps back. "Now, Nagini. We must be polite to our guest." Voldemort gently scolded the large snake. He sat on the textured black sofa, staring directly at the girl. Nagini made a quiet hiss in reply, then proceeded to curl under his master's feet.

"Hermione, welcome. How do you feel?" Although his smile reached his red-colored eyes. It still looked more menacing than polite, which later she concluded it was the emotion he wanted to display. "Please, have a seat" He invited her to sit on the empty armchair.

She was in front of the most feared man in wizardry Britain. The who-must-not-be-named was asking to sit with him. Which was so absurd. Crazy. Insane.

And very much real.

Hermione abided his request. The fabric felt very soft and clean on her hands. "I'm fine. Thank you for saving me." The girl bowed her head.

He seemed pleased.

If she wanted to live, she needed whatever advantage. She knew the man was all about traditions according to Harry. Maybe she can use little knowledge in her favor.

"You are quite welcome; I see that you are well-mannered." He smiled again. It was unnerving.

Then he grew serious. "You have questions, I'm sure. Go, ask"

"What happened?" That wasn't exactly the question she wanted to voice, but it was the only thing she had in her addled brain.

"You apparated here 4 days ago. Barely alive, you lost blood" The man tilted his head, questioningly. "Dumbledore, I suppose?" Hermione only nodded. He showed a half-smile. "I saved you. As you must guess by now, you are not very much of use to me if you are dead."

"Three days ago, the newspapers reported a Hogwarts student, and her parents were found dead at her house in muggle London. Everyone is speculating that it was the handiwork of Death Eaters. But you and I know that isn't true, is it Hermione?"

Hermione visibly swallowed, her eyes fell to her lap. She clenched her jaw willing herself to not react, to numb herself. In the appropriate time, she'll mourn her parents. Right now, she had to move on.

When she rose her eyes again, red ones were studying her.

The brunette let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, it isn't true, sir." Now what didn't make sense minutes ago, became clear as water. "I guess, he killed my parents to push the narrative of Death Eaters. Nobody would question it happened like that."

The dark wizard pressed the tip of his fingers together. "You guess correctly."

"Does it specify the name of the student?" She asked.

"No, but the ministry can't have it under wraps for much longer, people are bound to notice your absence. Your name will come on the front pages any day now."

'If they found three bodies who is the third one?... Probably he didn't need one. He just needed enough time to transfigure something large enough with my appearance for the body to be processed and then buried...'

"Had the bodies been buried?"

"Yes, one day after your supposed death, in a muggle cemetery."

'Buried almost immediately, people will be none the wiser' Hermione paused for a moment, making an effort, to digest all this. Thought of her friends came to her mind. How they will react? she wondered. Would they cry? Would they miss her? Considering her actual status, the brunette couldn't bring herself to care much.

"How did you know?" She didn't need to elaborate further, her voice filled with curiosity, the open wonderment glinting in her eyes said everything for the man to understand what was she was talking about.

"During the Tri-wizardry competition, Crouch Jr. noticed that Dumbledore went to the underground dungeons at least once a month; his report stated that he suspected the Order was gathering there for their meetings. One night he followed Albus, and what he saw was you transforming into a large werewolf while Dumbledore helped you ease the transformation. Later on, he informed me of your status." Voldemort didn't seem to be lying. When she asked him for an explanation, she didn't expect the whole truth.

"When you saw me in the atrium you just had to put two and two together."

"Almost." The man corrected her. "I wasn't entirely sure until you arrived that is."

"You want me to join your ranks," Hermione stated as she saw no more reason to avoid the main topic of the night.

"Yes, to become a Death Eater. Eventually."

"Dumbledore knew you were going to do this."

The man smiled indulgently, "As I knew you would become a nuisance for him and his plans."

It was as if they were playing chess; the board was the whole wizardry Britain and the pawns were all the people involved in the scheme. The key for winning was about to foresee the next move your enemy was going to do, and move your piece before he did it. To calculate all the options available, and all the possible outcomes.

For a second, she wondered what kind of chess-piece she was.

But Voldemort was famous for being a man with a very specific taste on who were his pawns, he liked pure-blooded or half-blooded he wouldn't accept anything less among his ranks.

"I'm a muggle-born. I thought you hate my kind."

"I'm a rational man, Hermione." He said. "It'll be completely waste to kill you, at least without giving you an opportunity, especially when you show much promise already. The same thing applies to everyone else who presents worthy abilities to join my ranks." The last part sounded very rational and pragmatic to her. "But don't misinterpret my words with beliefs of equality, I do believe there is a status quo that must be kept in our society. If a muggle-born shows much talent as you, then they deserve to be praised and commended… But if not. They need to go to the lower ladder of society. Right before the magical beasts." His upper lip raised slightly.

It didn't sound too different from the structure of the actual muggle society. If someone were stupid, they wouldn't go much far in life.

"Dumbledore told me you'll use Bellatrix to convince me."

The man laughed, truly laughed. "Did he?" His eyes full with mirth "Now, that's an interesting thought" muttered to himself. "I want you to join me on your own volition." He stated, "If I were to bring Bellatrix, you'll feel that you barely have a choice."

'I think I barely have a choice now'

"Which that reminds me" He started to look into his dark robe, and pull out a small vial. The vial was offered to her. "Here, drink it" Hermione hesitated for few seconds to take the vial, but ultimately opted to take it. Under the logic that if Voldemort wanted to kill or harm her, she would already be dead or harmed.

The man looked at the girl attentively as she drank the vial. "How do you feel?"

She didn't even know what was she supposed to feel.

A few seconds passed and there was nothing.

'I feel… nothing.'

"Nothing…" She smiled. A feeling of relief washed over her.

She didn't feel the symptoms. They were there but numbed. She needed to concentrate to feel something. It felt less than an ant creeping on her arm.

"Good. That way you'll be able to properly function. Wormtail can give you more later along with the recipe"

Hermione felt the impulse to say 'thank you' multiple times. What stopped her was the fact of who this man was and what he has done. Evidence against him was irrefutable. Join his ranks would be going against many things she believed in. But above all, there was something she would never be able to do, that is, to kill innocents.

Brown eyes hardened, if she were to do this, there was one condition. "I won't kill innocents. I won't be randomly killing muggles"

'Wait, I'm seriously considering joining him?'

Voldemort held her gaze, his face didn't display any sort of emotion. Hermione was increasingly growing restless by the stretched silence. Probably she went too far by trying to voice her convictions. After all, she was in no place to negotiate anything. She was at his mercy.

At that moment, the dark wizard rose from his seat and ordered her to follow her. They crossed to another room. Everything inside there was clean, the furniture was new and elegant. There were trinkets on the wall, mostly collections of dark magic artifacts. The bookcase replete with books, and there was a big hand-carved desk in the corner with an equally impressive leather chair behind it. Everything appeared to be very expensive even the quills as they seemed taken from cockatrices.

The man walked towards a small box placed on the center table, where maps and papers lay scattered. He opened the box and took out a wand. Her wand. "Tell me, Hermione, if you wanted to be very famous by tomorrow, what would you do?"

That question felt more loaded than it sounded. He wanted a satisfactory answer.

Hermione carefully mulled the question over her head, regarded it as a puzzle she had to solve.

Her features sober-up when she thought the answer on the tip of her tongue held so much weight. "I'll kill people. The more the better. It increases the chances to come out on the front page of the newspaper."

"Exactly." The man smiled, quite pleased. "If you want an ideology to spread faster, you better make some big explosion. The papers will give you all the publicity you need… I would say we already have the attention we need." He extended his arm and offered back her wand.

Hermione knew that to accept it, it'll be like shaking hands. This path would change everything as she knew it.

Was she ready to accept it?

She really didn't know.

Her hand grasped the wand.

There was just one last question in front of her mind.

"What would you do to me, if I don't want to join you in the end?" She stored her wand in her pocket.

"I'll let you go" Hermione saw no sign of deceit in his features, but a conceited flair settled on his features. "But where would you go, I wonder?"

'…Nowhere'

Other people would say that she had a choice. She could just leave. Leave this life behind and adventure forward to uncharted territories where she could forget and move on. Settle down in a nice cottage far away from any of this. Away from the trauma, away from the pain, away from the incoming war. And for all one knew, after time had passed by, perhaps she could live a happy life.

The truth was that bad things happened to good people, this time was her turn to experience the bitter taste of life and maybe to pay the highest cost of war. A war that was about to come. When people were not careful enough, even their so-called allies would cut their throat, all in the name of the greater good.

She happened to survive, then the best thing was to adapt or she would perish, this time for real.

And if to 'adapt' it meant to bend slightly her morality and convictions. Then so be it!

Hermione had no place to go, nor she needed one. She wanted to stay. Hunger began to rumble in her body; retribution was due.

Under this reflection, a dark look manifested in the usual gentle brown eyes.

"I want revenge." She said gazing at the pleased red eyes.

"And you shall have it," Voldemort promised.

"But first, you have your first task ahead. Most of my Death Eaters are waiting for the sentence to Azkaban." He pulled out from a pile of paper a map from the ministry and the photographs of what was supposed to be the responsible Aurors that guarded the cells. "I want you to free them."