Hello, darlings! So here's the thing- when you're excited, I'm excited. Since Saturdays are my 'me' days. (I'm off work, my husband is not) those are my posting days. So this is the first "regular schedule" posts. Yes, that means three this week. I think a little indulgence from time to time is okay. You wonderful people deserve to be spoiled occasionally. Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, giving kudos to and commenting.
Legal note: I own nothing except the brand new furnace thermostat I installed all by myself because I'm awesome.
Chapter 3: And the Winner Is...
Marcus Flint followed the wrinkled house elf down the corridor of Malfoy Manor. He had no idea why he had been summoned, only that most of his friends had received a similar summons. He slipped into the empty seat in the back by Peregrine Boles, who nodded in greeting. Beyond him Adrian Pucey, Graham Montague, and Cassius Warrington acknowledged him. "So, what's all this about?"
Peregrine shrugged, "Not even us marked men know."
Cassius frowned, "Which you would know if you'd take yours."
Adrian shrugged, "Quidditch League forbids tattoos, they view the Mark as a tattoo. Lord Voldemort insists we continue to play."
Graham rolled his eyes, "Because not being marked means you aren't as invested as the others.
"Whatever," Marcus said, "Dark Lord says keep playing, so don't get marked. He has his reasons. I have my orders, simple as that."
"When you put it that way how can we complain?" groused Cassius.
Adrian smirked, "You can't."
Malfoy Sr. entered followed by the younger Lestrange, and Voldemort, himself. Everyone sat up straighter. Marcus surveyed the room. The last six years of Slytherins, quite a few Ravenclaws, and a smattering of Hufflepuffs gave the older men their full attention.
"We are seeking your opinions and observations about the muggleborn known as Hermione Granger."
A Ravenclaw Marcus didn't know snorted, "Potter's pet mudblood?"
"She's a know-it-all swot," yelled someone else.
A Hufflepuff girl rolled her eyes, "I have no idea how her housemates could stand someone so bossy. Except for the homework angle." Many people laughed.
"She is a powerful witch," Gemma Fawley of Slytherin offered.
"With a mean right hook," laughed Adrian. "Remember when she gave Malfoy two black eyes?"
Marcus smirked, he remembered wishing he'd seen the actual hit, not just the results. He remembered a different Granger. A bushy-headed first year that hadn't completely understood his 5th year assignments, but knew where to find the reference books he needed. She helped his grades significantly until she stopped. He also remembered how pretty she looked at Yule Ball.
"And her clothes!" another girl sounded scandalized. "What a prude. My grandmother dresses sexier."
This continued in a similar fashion for about forty minutes, different words, but the same opinions: Granger was brash, bold, frumpy. A know-it-all swot who annoyed everyone, including her friends. Just as Marcus felt his attention start to wander, the Dark Lord stood, "Thank you for your candor. It has helped me to compare the observations of older peers than just rely on the information of those with a possible bias. You are dismissed." He shared a look with Malfoy and Lestrange who nodded.
The others quickly exited the room. Graham poked his friends, "Poker, my place tomorrow night? Say seven?" The others quickly agreed. Once settled they filed out.
"Flint, a moment, if you would." Malfoy Sr. asked.
"Of course, sir." His father often complained about the elder Malfoy, which he thought was often to be sour grapes, but his father admitted he was a powerful ally to have. Cooperation could only benefit him and perhaps stop his father's complaints about his lack of prestigious service.
He followed the older wizard into a small study. The Dark Lord waited, seated behind the desk. "Be seated, Mr. Flint." Marcus quickly complied. "Would you care to explain why, in a meeting discussing a topic, you remained silent about your differing opinion?"
"It is complicated, my lord. I had interactions with Granger that gave me a different perspective. I can't explain why I was hesitant to speak up in front of the others, but I assure you, I had every intention of seeking out Mr. Malfoy or Mr. Lestrange."
"Very well, tell me, then, how do you know Miss Granger?"
"She was a 1st year my 5th year. She would help me find reference material in the library. She didn't understand all of it, but enough to help find books. Helped with my OWL revision, too."
"What were your impressions of her at the time?"
"Eager to please, she just wanted to be accepted. She knew she was smart, so she shared her knowledge. She wanted everyone to agree she belonged. She had impeccable manners. Until Malfoy called her a mudblood later the next year, I never even considered she was anything but a pureblood."
"Why did she stop helping you?" questioned Malfoy Sr.
"After the mudblood incident, she started revising on the other side of the library."
"You never insulted her?"
"Uh, no, sir. I never, you know, defended her. Why would I? But I never insulted her. Felt like a betrayal of her earlier kindness."
"Agreed, Mr. Flint, agreed." Voldemort indicated approval with a slight nod. "There were quite a few opinions about her appearance, thoughts?"
Marcus felt himself flush, "Complete honesty? When she made the effort for Yule Ball she was stunning. I know Pucey and Warrington thought so, too. We discussed it that night. Really, it just seems likes she has zero interest in those kinds of things. She doesn't dress well, she just follows the dress code, like to the letter." He shrugged lamely.
"I appreciate your willingness to discuss this, and your service to the cause. I know some of you lament your inability to bear my mark."
"You have your reasons, my lord, and I respect them," he bowed.
"Either way, my thanks. You may go."
"Thank you, my lord." He quickly fled wondering why the Dark Lord seemed so obsessed with the little witch.
-oOoOo-
SLAM! Harry flinched as Ron jerked cabinet doors open only to bang them closed again. Like Mother Hubbard, their cupboards were bare. "Why couldn't Mione take the food out of her bag?" whined Ron.
"What food we had was in the kitchen. It's gone. Hermione explained that. You didn't want her going into the towns and doing a shop. She was gathering what she could from the woods. You know that."
"Yeah, well, if I had known she was going to get herself snatched anyway I might have agreed."
'No, you wouldn't. You were never comfortable in muggle shops and you hate it when Mione and I shared things without you.' Harry thought to himself but remained silent while Ron rummaged. A few seconds later he voiced the pressing question haunting him, "Do you really think Hermione got snatched?"
Ron snorted, "Like she would abandon us? C'mon, Harry, where would she go without us? Either a wild animal got her or Death Eaters."
"Do you think we should go back? Get help from the Order?"
"No, we'd have to go back to hiding. Sneaking around, stolen moments in Dad's shed."
"We're of age. No one could stop us from popping over to Grimmauld Place for some alone time."
"Soon, okay? Let's enjoy this a little longer. Not knowing where she is, there isn't much we can do for her." Unable to refuse his secret lover anything, Harry nodded. "Great, now who wants to make a peanut butter sandwich?" Ron held up a jar.
"We don't have bread."
"Who needs bread?"
-oOoOo-
Thoros Nott nodded to his fellows as he strode confidently through Malfoy Manor. His confidence, however, was only skin deep. The Dark Lord demanded a progress report on the search for the mudblood. He couldn't refuse the summons, but that didn't mean he was eager to report their collective failure. Arriving at the door to Voldemort's preferred parlor, he rapped on the door and entered when instructed to.
"Thoros, have you come to report?"
"Yes, my lord, I fear I must report our continued failure to
locate the girl."
"Splendid," Voldemort grinned.
"My lord?" Nott felt confusion wash over him.
"I will not lie, having the Order's pet mudblood submit to me would be most pleasing. But winning her over? Getting her willing cooperation? It will be the sweeter victory."
"You are not angry?"
"Quite the opposite. I have been planning for either outcome. And we've been unable to locate those bumbling buffoons even after she left, if she was indeed the brains of the group, I would have been disappointed if any of you had found her."
Nott nodded to that logic, "I shall leave you to your preparations."
"Send me Lucius, would you?"
"As you wish."
The blond wizard entered shortly after the other departed. "You wished to see me?"
"Yes, Lucius. It seems that very soon I will be hosting a distinguished guest."
"Indeed?"
"Until we can ascertain her wishes and desires, I would be most appreciative if you and Narcissa would host her here."
"We would be honored, my lord."
"Speak to Severus, I would like for her to be able to sit her NEWTs with the rest of her class."
"Certainly."
"I want no doubt of her brilliance." When Lucius managed to keep a neutral face, Voldemort decided to reward him. "She is a hidden gem. She is so much more than she appears to be on the surface."
"As you say, my lord." Lucius bowed as he left the room pondering the implications of those last statements.
-oOoOo-
The witch in question sat in her tent reviewing her plans for leaving the country. She refused to hike back to the bus station once the game was over. Using one of her disguises she would apparate further south, then take trains to London. She would check on her parents' house before making her way to France. From there she would disappear.
Christmas her 5th year, after Arthur Weasley had been attacked by Nagini, Sirius privately gave her an important present- his portkey to the unplotted island in the Pacific that the Black family owned. He told her he worried Harry wouldn't use it or would lose it, so he gave it to her for safekeeping. Looking back she could see the selfish manipulation. Sirius wanted Harry safe, her safety would be an ancillary benefit. He knew she would save Harry when he wouldn't save himself, even if it put her in danger. Well, her days of sacrificing for others were over. Once she had everything she wanted from Britain she was gone. She could live out the rest of her life in solitary safety while the world around her burned. In the future, she could reassess the situation and consider returning, maybe not to Great Britain, but elsewhere. Plus, she could offer Luna and Neville an escape as well.
She unpacked and packed her beaded bag. Then she began returning her campsite to the pristine condition she discovered it in. Anything to keep her thoughts from wandering. She hated the fleeting thoughts of where were they? Were they safe? What were they doing besides shagging each other rotten? Had they focused on the mission at all? Did they ever think of her, miss her, worry about what happened to her? Did anyone? Cynically she considered the answer to all those questions to be no. Everybody always wanted something from her, and it was never going to be companionship or affection. She learned the lesson, now she could try and keep it from falling for it again, or at least call people on it. Well, at least she hoped she could.
-oOoOo-
May 4th, 1998. Narcissa arranged breakfast for a large group of Death Eaters. Lucius had been unable to give her an accurate number, though assured her they would fit within one dining room, he just wasn't sure which. She made her way to the morning room to finalize plans with Lucius or the Dark Lord. She felt mild surprise at arriving before her husband's fellows. Voldemort stood staring out of the window. "Pardons, my lord, would you prefer solitude as you wait?"
"No, Narcissa, I wish to speak to with you have the time."
"I always have time for you, my lord."
"Ah, the benefits of leadership, everyone drops everything for you most of the time," he laughed. "Lucius has agreed to host of guest for me, a teenage female guest."
"He mentioned something to that effect."
"She will need assistance acclimating to our world. Her introduction has been rough."
Several possibilities ran through her head, the last most absurd one causing her eyes to widen unconsciously.
"Ah, you've considered her. Hardly a surprise given my sudden obsession."
"She will definitely need guidance. I would be honored to assist her if she allows it."
"That is all I can ask. I will not force her into anything she objects to."
"The Malfoy family will do its part. May I inquire, which dining room we will be needing this morning?"
"The smaller formal one will be fine. Breakfast is Inner Circle only."
"Very well, I will go finalize everything."
"Thank you, Narcissa."
"It is nothing. Is there anything else before I go?"
"Would you post this letter for me?"
"At once." She took the envelope and left on her errands.
-oOoOo-
Sitting on a hard wooden bench waiting for her train, Hermione noticed a tawny colored owl flying towards the station. On the chance that it could be a magical owl, she stood. Pretending to be stretching her legs, she slipped outdoors. Behind the large brick building, she watched the owl's approach. It swooped down to drop an envelope into her hands. Returning to the skies it did not wait for her to even open it, let alone reply. The outside only said:
Miss Hermione Granger
Scans showed no traps, jinxes, or tracking spells. Cautiously she opened it, still no jinxes. She removed the missive from inside.
My darling cousin,
How could I not accept such a delightful game with such tempting stakes? Very naughty of you to hide the tastiest tidbit in that manner. I congratulate you on your victory. I am prepared to offer you the tutelage you requested and perhaps more. You managed to send word undetected once, I expect you can do so again. When you are prepared send word where I can find you.
Awaiting our first proper meeting,
Lord Voldemort
-oOoOo-
Voldemort surveyed the assembled crowd before him. "My faithful servants," he boomed in a commanding voice. "In the coming days, the Malfoys will be doing me the great service of hosting a guest for me. She is to be treated with courtesy and cannot be harmed in any way. I have sworn this on my magic. Some of you may be called to assist in her tutelage. Miss Hermione Granger has cut her ties with the Order of the Phoenix. They are most likely unaware of this. I want to keep that information secret as long as possible. We want to persuade her to join us, so I expect your best behavior and impeccable manners." He gazed levelly at them, making eye contact with several followers.
"You are dismissed."
"Have we heard from Miss Granger?" Lucius inquired once everyone else had departed.
"I sent her an owl this morning. I expect it will be tomorrow at the earliest."
-oOoOo-
Hermione landed in the living room of the Courtenay Avenue home she grew up in. She dropped her bags on the hardwood floor and quickly surveyed the house. The brand new alarm box, and a note from the security company about having to replace the box and the side door after finding them both smashed and a missing photograph from the staircase were the only signs anyone had been in the house. Knowing that Death Eaters had been in the house and didn't destroy more surprised her.
She collected her bags from the living room and used magic to unpack them. A few waves of her wand had the dust removed and her room set to rights. After a brief shower, she sat down and thought over her options. When the war began in earnest she and her parents discussed plans. Malcolm and Eleanor Granger agreed everyone would be safer if they left. They sold their dental practice, and legally changed their names to Wendell and Monica Wilkins. After that Monica and Wendell were off to fulfill their lifelong dreams of helping poverty stricken areas with their dental needs.
"All that we ask is that you do not sell off the house. Your several times great-grandfather's proudest personal achievement was purchasing land here." Malcolm told her.
"The Blacks lived in the heart of London undetected. I can hide the house if necessary," she promised.
"We put your name on our accounts and stocks. All the properties and vehicles are in your name. We instructed our broker to remove our names when you turn 25. Mr. Moran, our solicitor has instructions to do the same thing with the bank accounts."
"And if anything happens to you, the Wilkins' estate will notify him and he'll tell me."
"And if anything happens to you, we'll never know because we won't remember you." Eleanor sniffled.
"If something happens to me, you'll never know the pain of losing what you never had," Hermione told her firmly. "And someday when it is safer, I'll find you. And if it never is, at least you will be safe and happy."
Hermione pulled out the important paperwork packet. She doubted it would ever be safe for her parents to return. Malcolm and Eleanor Granger would be staying gone. Before she left this time she would be making the house unplottable with muggle repelling wards. Much like Grimmauld Place, non-magical beings would not perceive anything occurring there. She popped out in disguise to do a proper shop. After lunch, she answered Voldemort's letter.
Cousin,
I am delighted to accept your offer of tutelage and while eager to begin, I do have some loose ends to tie up. I will meet you, or your envoy, 9th May 1998 at King's Cross Station on Platform 9¾ at 10 am.
See you soon,
Hermione Granger
She posted her response and went home to pack up once again, this time with a higher society in mind. Summoning actual luggage from the attic she entered her parent's room and headed straight for Eleanor's closet. Her mother tried to stay on the edge of fashion, occasionally purchasing then dismissing dresses as too young for her. Hermione chose anything she thought would work in the magical world and not look like she was a child playing dress up. She sent her selections flying to the bed. She repeated the process with her mother's shoes. Far more shoes made the cut than dresses.
The grandfather clock chimed the late hour when Hermione reluctantly exited the closet. She still needed to sort through the jewelry but reminded herself she still have four more days. She groaned at the idea of cooking something so late, opting to get takeaway. Instead of apparating, she elected to drive. The secluded secure nature of the house made delivery complicated.
Miles Granger had bought the last lot at the end of the road and built his house towards the back, lining the front with evergreen trees and bushes. Once she cast the muggle repealing and unplottable spells nonmagical beings would think the road dead-ended into a foreboding forested area they wanted to avoid. When she retreated to Black Island she would create a portkey to bring her back there when she was homesick. Not quite what her parents intended but it seemed unlikely she would get the chance to fall in love and have children while she was alone in hiding. Perhaps once Voldemort's people calmed down. Or Neville, she considered before rejecting the thought instantly. She simply wasn't attracted to her lanky friend.