Hermione walked along the high street with her parents, sporting a sundress, oversized sunglasses and drinking a bright red Slush Puppy which she had assured the two dentists walking beside her was sugar-free (it wasn't).
The carefree picture of innocence and youth were scarred by two things, the wand strapped to her thigh which she had dutifully donned every day of the summer holiday and the literal scar that bisected her chest. The summer dress hid both.
The secret world that she inhabited had grown darker and more dangerous every year. Hermione wouldn't trade being a witch or the friendships she'd made for anything, but leaving the peaceful sunshine world of her youth to return to a world at war wasn't something she was looking forward to come September.
A prickle of energy washed over Hermione's left hand. A tingling somewhere between the numbness of a sat-on limb coming back to life and a static shock. It ran up her arm to her elbow, she turned her head to the left, sure that it would be a coincidence. The corner of a black cloak disappearing around the corner into an alleyway stopped Hermione's breath.
Perhaps it was just a long skirt? she rationalised, but the tell-tale crack of apparition stopped her reassuring thoughts in their tracks.
She forced herself to breathe normally, act as if nothing was going on lest her parents ask her questions she couldn't answer. Hermione had made the decision in her first year of Hogwarts to give her parents a sugar coated view of Hogwarts and the world she inhabited. They had been sceptical about sending their intelligent and promising daughter to learn magic instead of mathematics, but her outbursts of uncontrolled magic were something even they couldn't deny.
So she didn't tell them that she had seen a long black cloak and that the wizards and witches who usually wore long black cloaks were generally the kind that wanted to kill her and her family on principal.
She didn't tell them about any of the other times either.
Browsing for some new fiction books in Waterstones, she saw a figure in a hooded cloak standing several shelves behind her. She turned to look, and after a moment they had disappeared behind a shelf, knocking a book down to hide the crack of disapparition.
Hermione couldn't stop thinking about him, her mystery stalker. She was fairly certain it was a man from the glimpse she had of his jaw in Waterstones, dotted with stubble above a tall, bulky frame that was unlikely to belong to a woman. Hermione had only ever seen Death Eaters by candlelight, reflected in the glow of thousands of prophesies, or by the lights of burning tents and flashed curses. The harsh shop lights threw his black cloak into sharp contrast, like a hole ripped in a canvas, revealing the darkness that was truly there.
He was in the park where she sat with a friend from primary school having a picnic, just watching from behind some trees. He was in the supermarket, he was in the library, he was there when she was crossing the road while looking at the newspaper in enough time to push her out of the way of a car before it hit her.
Well that was strange. A Death Eater saving her life? The mystery grew, being cut off from the entire rest of the wizarding world by something as silly as access to an owl or fireplace she was left to puzzle out the mystery on her own.
She made a list of every Death Eater she knew, crossed off the women, crossed off Lucius Malfoy on the basis that he was blonde, and then was at a complete loss as to how to narrow it down any further.
She went the rest of the summer without seeing him, received her Hogwarts letter and went to Diagon Alley to shop for her new school books. Her parents left her in the alley to shop in some muggle shops while they were in London.
Hermione made her way to Flourish and Blotts, one of her favourite places on the street. She noticed something green on the ground, shiny and small. Perhaps it was a piece of jewellery? Thinking that the owner may only be a few steps away, she bent to retrieve it.
Strong hands pulled her into the alley she had been passing and she felt the squeeze of apparition as she was whisked away to an unknown location.
She struggled against her captor where he had locked her into his arms in a parody of an embrace.
"Oh yes, I do so like it when they struggle," rasped a voice in her ear.
She recognised it from the Department of Mysteries, the voice that had cast the curse that left her with a scar that bisected her torso.
"Dolohov," she whispered
"The very same," he replied, shifting his arms so he was stood behind her, one hand on her chest and the other resting on her hip, marking the points where her curse scar began and ended.
"What do you want?" she asked, clearly afraid. Her arms were pinned to her sides by his firm grip, unable to reach her wand.
"Your opinion on interior decorating. What do you think?" he asked.
His comment lanced through her, she knew he wanted to kill her. Despite herself, she looked around the room. She saw the dusty surfaces, the broken furniture and the bed where Peter Pettigrew had transformed from Scabbers into his human form. She was in the Shrieking Shack.
"You want to kill me" she stated flatly.
"Come now, I like to think of it more as unfinished business. See this scar you have isn't your body holding itself together against me. It's holding my curse in."
Her pulse quickened as he spoke, suddenly feeling like she had swallowed a ticking bomb.
"I think now is the right time to let it out to play, hmmm? We've both been so patient all summer, keeping an eye on you, waiting for the right moment," he continued.
She knew it was stupid to ask, knew it didn't matter but she couldn't help the words as they tumbled out of her mouth.
"Why did you save me from that car?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
She felt him chuckle behind her, his head was just above her shoulder and his breath skirted across her face as he replied.
"Well, couldn't have anyone else killing you now, could I?" came his reply.
His arms tightened around her.
Her breath stopped as she became overcome with fear.
"Exolvo," came the incantation.
It left his mouth in a whisper that was as loud as a shout, and Hermione felt her chest burst open like the ground in an earthquake, her body rent like the Grand Canyon.
The purple glow of the curse dazzled her as he dragged her to the bed. She noticed with horror the blood stains she was leaving in her wake, bits of tissue were lodged in the flooring as lifted her up and onto her back, still cradling behind her like a lover.
She held onto hope despite the situation, she was close to Hogwarts and Hogsmede, maybe someone would hear the screams she felt coming from her throat.
She heard a chilling laugh from behind her and felt a kiss tenderly pressed to her forehead as her screams subsided.
"Well my dear, that was certainly worth the wait"
She felt the bed springs move as he got up from behind her to leave, her eyes having slipped closed from exhaustion.
As she slipped into unconsciousness, she didn't even hear him leave.