October 1938

"Now," Professor Slughorn turned around to face his first year Slytherin and Gryffindor class. "Can anyone tell me what you get when you mix powdered moonstone and unicorn horn together?"

Giving in to her inner know-it-all, Hermione eagerly raised her hand.

She watched her former, now much younger Professor wait a while longer to give the other students a chance before clapping his hands together.

"Tom, my boy!" He turned to the dark-haired Slytherin next to Hermione. "Since Miss Lestrange answered the previous question, it's your turn now."

Hermione scowled as Riddle sat up a little straighter.

"Thank you, Professor. Mixing those two ingredients results in a common calming draught."

"Brilliant!" Slughorn exclaimed. "Five points for Slytherin. My- this year, I not only got one but two promising potioneers in my class." Their professor shot the two of them a conspiratory wink before returning to explain the potion to the rest of the class.

Noticing Hermione's silent glare, Riddle inclined his head. "Is there something on my face, Lestrange?" he asked. "Or do you just feel threatened by my skill?"

Hermione scoffed. The boy was calmly writing away on his parchment. Despite being left-handed, he still had a nicer handwriting than herself. Was there anything he wasn't better at than her?

"As if." she hissed back.

The Slytherin rolled his eyes, not bothering to continue their conversation.

Once their class was over, Hermione hastily scrambled her things together before hurrying out of the classroom to catch up with Minerva and Charlus.

Her first two days at Hogwarts had gone surprisingly well, considering where the sorting hat had put her, and she had yet to hear anything back from the Lestranges. Hermione figured it wouldn't take much longer until Rodolphus found out about her sorting. Not from her, that was for sure. Still, she could practically hear Abraxas ranting to his father about what had happened from the Slytherin dungeons.

Deep in thought, the young girl sat at one of the empty tables at the far back of the library and pulled out her potion's assignment.

"Really, Lestrange, library again?" Charlus Potter's incredulous voice pulled Hermione from her thoughts.

Smirking, she dipped her quill back into her inkpot, pointedly ignoring the other Gryffindor.

"Oh, come on! The game starts soon, and I even got McGonagall to join us in the stands."

He pouted, but Hermione stayed silent.

"If you don't come, I'll tell everyone you're secretly rooting for the snakes." Charlus threatened, plopping down in the seat next to Hermione, who threw her head back in frustration.

"It's just Quidditch, Potter. I'll join you guys another time." she offered, hoping to get the aggravating boy to leave.

"No can do Lestrange. Either you pack your stuff now or face the consequences later."

Before she could stop the boy, he snatched the quill from her hand.

"Hey!"

The cackling boy turned on his heels and started running from the irked girl in the general direction of the Quidditch pitch. That boy is worse than Ron and Harry combined.

Resigned Hermione gave up on finishing her assignment and followed her housemate. Completely lost in her thoughts, she didn't see the two Slytherins as she turned around another corner.

Startled, she managed to narrowly avoid running straight into Abraxas Malfoy's chest, almost stumbling over her own feet in the process.

"Watch it, Gryffindork!" Malfoy hissed before realising it was Hermione, who raised an eyebrow at his hostile behaviour. Clearly embarrassed, the pale boy stammered something akin to an apology before hurriedly asking if she was alright.

"You know her, Abraxas?" A boy with the most annoyingly perfect curls Hermione had ever seen drawled.

"Evan, that's Hermione Lestrange, the girl from the continent I told you about," Malfoy answered before Hermione could speak up for herself.

"Really?" The boy looked her up and down in a way that made Hermione feel more than a little uncomfortable. "I imagined her to be prettier."

Hermione bristled at the blatant insult, ready to give him a piece of her mind when Malfoy hurriedly interrupted. "Don't pay him any mind. Rosier's a prat."

The prat called Evan just shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione pursed her lips at his condescending expression. What a little brat. "Pleasure to meet you." Even a deaf person could've detected the sarcasm dripping from her lips. "If you'd excuse me, my housemates forced me to attend the next game." she drawled, shoving past the two Slytherins.

"Oy, wait up, Lestrange, we were on our way to the pitch as well!" Malfoy called, effectively ruining Hermione's escape plan. Again.

She took a deep breath before turning around to face them with a saccharine smile. When the two finally caught up with her, she quickened her pace, desperately hoping that none of her housemates would witness her consorting with their rival house on game day. She did not need any rumours of herself fraternising with the enemy so early on already.

"Scared of being caught with us, Lestrange?" Evan what's-his-name goaded, taking note of her discomfort.

Hermione glared at him, determined not to speak another word with the two.

Malfoy punched his friend's arm not too gently in response to his taunts earning himself a kick in the shin in return. Boys.

"Shut up, Evan. She's still an honourable witch, regardless of her house!"

"Just 'cause your father told you to be nice to the blood traitor doesn't mean I have to be too."

Her patience with the boy wearing thin, Hermione forced herself to tune out his rantings. The trio silently passed by some older Ravenclaws before that Evan boy opened his blasted mouth again. "Say, Lestrange, are you proud of dishonouring your family every time you put on that uniform?"

Finally having it with the boy's constant bullying, Hermione came to an abrupt halt, forcing her two companions to stop as well. Hermione curled her fingers into a fist, her nails digging painfully into her palms. "If you don't shut your mouth Rosier, I'll hex you silly." she spat angrily, enjoying Malfoy's scandalised look at her strong language.

"You Gryffindors sure are a rowdy bunch." Rosier mocked. "I pity the man that'll have to marry you someday."

The girl clenched her teeth in frustration. Making a scene in the corridors for everyone to see would just prove Rosier's point.

"Cat got your tongue Lestrange, or did I just hit a sore spot there?" the boy smirked.

Before Hermione could answer, Malfoy interrupted her for the second time, irritating the girl even further.

"Come on, Evan, bullying witches is low. Even for you."

Rosier rolled his verdant eyes. "You're right." Their steps echoed loudly through the deserted corridor. "I shouldn't waste my breath on some Gryffindor blood traitor. Your life is already sad enough."

A sinking feeling took hold of Hermione. How could a wizard of his pedigree already have such a rotten personality? He was a truly vile boy.

But she couldn't antagonise them. Rodolphus would have her head. Trying to push back her growing unease, she focused on a point on the wall behind her two companions. She took a moment to centre herself and continued her walk to the pitch, not sparing the two Slytherins another glance.

"Don't act all high and mighty with us," Rosier called. "It's really unattractive."

Hermione bit her lower lip. She was above such taunts for Merlin's sake. Her burning eyes told another story altogether, though...


"Words cannot describe how much I hate that idiot." Hermione stabbed her quill into the inkwell. After two weeks of constant squabbling with Evan Rosier, she was fed up with the insufferable boy.

"I don't know what you did to that guy Hermione, but I love it." Charlus Potter laughed at the red-faced girl's incredulous look but kept a safe distance from her wand still.

"He's worse than Riddle, and that boy is a real menace!" she huffed.

"Oh, just because Riddle can keep up with your ridiculous brain in class doesn't mean he's a bad person," Minerva argued, much to Hermione's dismay, while offering them candy.

"I don't know, Minny. That boy is suspicious." Charlus threw in, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"See? Even Charlus sees through his nice-boy façade."

Said boy grinned at their scowling friend, who just sighed at their childish behaviour.

"Quit conspiring against me and finish your homework. I want to get dinner."

Hermione smiled at their banter. Why couldn't her life always be this simple?

Despite all the drawbacks of being a child again, she'd nonetheless missed the quiet life at Hogwarts. No Dementors were roaming the corridors or death eaters torturing the younger students. No, in this time, the biggest worries the students had, were the length of their assignments or whatever silly drama was happening in the different houses. Merlin, I've missed this common room. Hermione turned to look around the cosy student lounge. She could not think of anything more calming than sitting in front of the large fireplace with her friends.

"She's gone again. Wanna paint something on her face and see if she notices?"

Before Charlus could draw even closer, Hermione snapped out of her thoughts, lightly shoving the boy away from her.

"Don't you dare, Potter; I'll never help you with potions again if you come even one step closer to me with that quill in your hand." Her words seemed to genuinely concern the boy because he immediately sprang up from his position, his hands high in the air in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it. No moustaches on your face ever."

Hermione nodded, satisfied with his promise.

They swiftly finished their assignments, much to Minerva's satisfaction, before making their way down to the great hall for dinner...


The next day during History of Magic, Hermione sat next to Riddle and Malfoy. Her supposed friends had abandoned her in favour of Melinda Bones and some of Charlus's mates.

Having to choose between sitting next to Henry Jones, a Hufflepuff who had blatantly copied her works on multiple occasions already, and the Slytherin duo, Hermione chose the latter. At least Riddle didn't leech off her academic success.

"…And while the goblin wars most certainly were an amazing endeavour"-

Hermione felt her attention drift as she absentmindedly wrote down some notes on the second goblin war.

Riddle, who sat to her left, shifted on their bench. She glanced at the dark-haired boy who seemed unaffected by Professor Binn's monotone lecture. She was still unsure what to make of the future Dark Lord. Most days, he tended to irritate her to no end, though.

His feather moved without interruption over the parchment. Hermione scoffed at his meticulous writing. If it weren't for him turning into a raving lunatic someday, she reckoned, they could've become great friends in another life.

"You're staring again, Lestrange." Riddle suddenly whispered.

Hermione startled. "It's called observing."

"And what exactly are you observing?"

"Well," she hesitated. "To be quite frank, I'm still surprised to have found someone who can keep up with me."

The boy's quill hovered long enough for an ink blotch to splatter over his previous writings.

"My, aren't you a modest witch." he drawled, not paying any mind to Malfoy's questioning gaze to his left.

"Just being honest," she answered. "Few can appreciate the marvels of what we're being taught here."

Her words seemed to have struck a chord with Riddle if his contemplating gaze was anything to go by. Instead of answering, though, the boy turned back to his notes, leaving Hermione to wonder what he was thinking...


"Why were you at the orphanage when we first met?"

Tom Riddle didn't give Hermione a chance to sneak away after the lesson. Sandwiching her between Malfoy and himself, they walked down the hall.

"Orphanage?" the Malfoy heir asked, bewildered.

Hermione sighed; she had hoped to avoid this conversation. What was she supposed to tell them? Waiting until the rest of the students were out of earshot, she waved off Minerva's and Charlus' questioning gazes.

"I first met Riddle at an orphanage in London, shortly after my family moved to Scotland," she answered Malfoy's question before continuing. "I got into an argument with my father and got lost in the city after that. A muggle found me and dragged me to the same orphanage Riddle stays at. It took my family a few weeks to find me."

While Abraxas pitied Hermione for what she must have endured during her stay, Riddle didn't seem to buy her story. "I followed you"- He pinched his pale lips, "-that day you were picked up by your relative."

Hermione stumbled at his words, her heart clenching at the thought of Riddle seeing her with Rabastan.

"You looked terrified of the man. In fact, it looked like you really didn't want to go with him." Riddle watched Hermione's reaction like a hawk.

The girl pushed her growing panic down, trying to come up with an explanation. To her surprise, it was Malfoy who eventually came to her rescue. "Of course, she was scared. My father would've skinned me alive if I'd run away from home."

For the first time, Hermione was grateful for the boy's interruption. She couldn't have thought of a better excuse herself.

"Your family is like Abraxas' then?" Riddle asked, seemingly curious, but Hermione knew that his question was anything but an innocent inquiry about her family life. He wants to see if I'm worth keeping around.

"My father... is on the more traditional side, yes," she admitted, unable to keep her resentment for the man from her voice.

"You'll do then." Riddle regarded her with a most charming smile, which made the hairs on the back of her arms stand up. "Help me- settle in, so to speak."

Hermione nearly choked on her own spit at this unexpected request. Looking at him now, his smile, the way he carried himself, she could see why so many people had fallen for his charade in the past. "Why me? You have Abraxas, and your other housemates, don't you?"

"You and Abraxas are the only ones who know of my current living arrangements, and I'd like to keep it that way." Riddle pursed his lips. "You know about my house's conservative worldviews."

Hermione furrowed her brows. Was this the opening she needed to get closer to him? "And you think a Gryffindor like me can help you?" To her astonishment, Riddle nodded, his cold grey eyes finding her own.

They seemed to pull her in, reaching a part of her subconsciousness she didn't know existed.

"We have a connection, you and I," his voice was sweeter than honey. "Don't you think it was fate that we met at that dreadful orphanage?"

He sounded so genuine that Hermione struggled to discern the monster he'd inevitably become one day. Was this young boy really the same man who'd plunge the world into not only one but two wars before the end of the century?

They came to a halt in front of the library. Hermione was surprised that she hadn't even noticed where Riddle had been leading them all this time.

"You're the brightest witch I know. Who else would be better suited?" A dark look suddenly crossed Riddle's angelic face. "I saw how you taught those filthy muggles back at the orphanage. You're an honourable witch, and I know you won't act on ulterior motives."

Hermione was appalled at the thought of Riddle watching her every move back in London. Now that she knew what the quiet boy from the orphanage would become one day, she felt exposed. He had seen a side of her that she'd rather have kept to herself.

"We will meet up twice a week here to talk about everything I might want to know, and in return, I'll make sure that Rosier and his cronies leave you alone." Riddle proposed, sounding more like he was giving her an order.

Hermione bit her lips. "I appreciate the offer, Riddle, but I can take care of those buffoons myself. How about we just say you owe me one?" she smiled at the contemplative boy, offering a hand to seal the deal.

"Agreed." He grabbed her outstretched hand and shook it a little longer than necessary, the warmth of his palm seeping into her skin and rushing up her arm.

Hermione knew from their time at the orphanage that Tom Riddle didn't touch other people. She'd seen him scowl at the children who dared to encroach on his personal space. It seemed like that disdain was only reserved for those he considered lesser. Filthy.

"So, am I a part of your little study group as well or what?" Malfoy asked after a moment of silence.

"Seeing as you're already here, I don't see why not. You're well connected. This might come in handy someday." Seeing as Hermione doesn't know anyone here yet. She finished Riddle's sentence in her head but wisely kept her thoughts to herself.

"Well, this is going to be fun. As a Slytherin, it's basically my duty to guide the last parselmouth of our house on his path to glory."

Hermione's head snapped back to Riddle.

"Thanks for elaborating the girl on my behalf Abraxas. It's much appreciated." Riddle's eyes flashed dangerously for a second. "He saw me speaking to one of the portraits on the first day. At least he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut until now. You'll not tell anybody about this, am I clear?"

Taken a little aback, Hermione remembered that she was not just talking to an ordinary boy but the future Dark L- Voldemort.

"O- Of course," she answered before turning back to a suddenly very pale Abraxas.

Riddle nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. He bid the two a curt farewell before entering the library. The blond boy next to her exhaled loudly, nervously brushing his hair back behind his ears.

"I'm sorry that you got dragged into this, Lestrange. There's something seriously wrong with him."

Surprised at his unexpected words, Hermione raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"What do you mean, Malfoy? You seemed comfortable with him a second ago."

"I'm a Slytherin. Pretending to be okay with things is kinda our thing," he answered, looking more uncomfortable by the second. "Riddle can talk to snakes. That makes him a descendant of our house's founder, but still- something about him just seems off."

Hermione feigned a look of confusion, making Malfoy, in turn, nervously fiddle with the hem of his robe. "I don't know, alright! Just try to keep your distance from him if you can." he finally exclaimed before abruptly turning around, leaving Hermione behind in the deserted corridor...


November 1938

Hermione was in the middle of packing her bag for the day when Minerva sat down on the desk next to her, lazily swinging her feet in Hermione's direction.

"You want to tell me why you're always meeting up with Riddle and Malfoy?" she casually asked.

Hermione knew her new friend well enough to know that keeping silent on that matter was not an option, so she turned to her housemate with a thoughtful expression.

"First, how do you even know about that? We meet so early that even Madam Pince is still asleep."

"You're my roommate. When I woke up last week to find your bed already empty, I wanted to find out what you were up to so early,"

Hermione smiled at the girl's flippant answer. "Well, to be honest, I can't tell you, but would it be enough if I assured you that it's purely for academic reasons?"

Her friend tutted at Hermione's apologetic smile but thankfully let her off the hook for the moment. "Alright, but I'll be really mad if you're lying to me right now!"

Hermione eagerly nodded at her future Professor. If anyone would've told her that she would befriend her head of house someday, she would've laughed at them.

The two of them made their way down to the great hall for breakfast, where they met up with Charlus. "So, are you going home for Christmas?" he asked when the two girls sat next to him.

"Of course! I can't wait to see my brothers again. Never thought that I'd actually miss those two rascals." Minerva immediately responded, whereas Hermione just grimaced at the thought of having to go back to the Lestranges again.

"What about you? Any plans for the holidays?" Minerva, who had known Hermione before their time at Hogwarts, looked over at the taciturn girl.

"Not really. I'll just enjoy the solitude and hang out with Winny."

Charlus looked at her questioningly. "Winny?"

"Oh, sorry, she's my house-elf," Hermione answered.

"Sounds awfully lonely."

Minerva subtly kicked their friend's leg.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Don't worry. It isn't as bad as you imagine. I really enjoy my alone time."

Charlus and Minerva didn't look convinced but were smart enough not to dig any deeper, leaving it up to Hermione to confide in them when she was feeling ready.

"Well, you're both welcome to come over if you've got time. My mother would love to meet you two!" The thought of a flustered Charlus introducing them to his mum made Hermione smile.

This actually sounds like a great idea. Maybe I should ask Rodolphus if I can go. Hermione thought to herself, mentally preparing a list of arguments why her father should allow her to visit the Potters.

"All right let's go. I don't want to be late for class!" Minerva said, and together they left for their first class...


December 1938

The house looked just as unwelcoming as she'd remembered. Hermione attempted to control the growing dread that was slowly consuming her thoughts. She hadn't heard a word from any of the brothers about her sorting, which terrified her more than she liked to admit.

This feels like I'm walking right into a trap. Taking a deep breath, she tightened her grip on her luggage and went up the stairs of the imposing manor.

"Where the hell is Winny when you need her." Irritated by the elf's apparent absence, she stopped in front of the large doors of her dreadful home.

Again, Hermione wondered why no one had come to pick her up at the train station. She'd expected to be ducking away from some nasty hexes by now, or if nothing else, be yelled at by Rodolphus at least. She hadn't expected to be met with complete indifference. This is not good. Not at all.

Hermione felt her heartbeat speeding up at the thought of entering the dark house unarmed. She proceeded to pull out her wand, mentally preparing herself before knocking on one of the doors. It swung open with a creaking sound, revealing an eerily quiet entrance hall. Oh, Hell no.

Unsure how to proceed, Hermione peeked inside the house. She anxiously waved her wand to light the chandeliers on the ceiling before finally dropping her luggage next to the door and setting a careful step inside the house.

"Hello?" she called nervously but received no answer. Feeling goosebumps forming on her arms and neck, she absentmindedly hugged her midsection to quench the unease blossoming from within her.

With her wand still drawn, she quietly climbed up the stairs to the first floor, figuring that if any of the Lestrange brothers were home, they would be in Rodolphus' study. Merlin, get a grip, Hermione. They obviously want to scare you. She told herself repeatedly but to no avail. She felt as if she was back on the run from the snatchers. Every fibre in her body told her to turn around and run. Once she stood in front of the study, Hermione gathered all the Gryffindor courage she could muster and waved her quivering hand at the doors.

"Crucio!"

Hermione barely managed to dodge the red beam that shot in her direction.

I knew it! Forcing her shaking muscles to cooperate, she hastily conjured the strongest shield she knew before pulling herself up, sprinting into the darkened room. Hermione immediately spotted her furious father sitting behind his desk, his wand still pointed at his shaking daughter. She struggled to breathe evenly; her body no longer used to the sudden bursts of adrenaline.

"I'm- very disappointed in you, Hermione." His voice was rough, cutting through the tense silence like a rusty saw.

Hermione nervously bit the insides of her cheeks until she could taste the familiar coppery taste of blood. She spotted the empty glass on his desk and concluded that he must have been drinking prior to her arrival. Should've just run when I had the chance at the train station.

"Where's Rabastan?" Unfortunately, her voice sounded much smaller than she would have liked.

The older Lestrange brother chuckled darkly. "Away with that dim-witted witch, he fancies. Sorry to tell you, but we're all alone today."

Hermione's insides clenched at the thought of facing that madman all by herself. She'd desperately hoped to at least have Rabastan with her to stop his brother from actually killing her.

Swallowing hard as she watched her father idly play with his wand, she prepared to hex him if he attacked her again.

"We had an agreement, girl," he hissed. "Imagine my surprise when Septimus told me where that blasted hat put you." His empty glass smashed against the wall behind Hermione, close enough that she could feel tiny shards of glass cutting into her forearm.

Hermione flinched. "I told you I wouldn't go for Slytherin." The glass underneath her soles crunched as she stepped backwards. "I'm still trying my best to get close to Riddle, so why are you angry?" Desperation clung to her every word.

"Cheeky little brat, I told you to write to me." Rodolphus looked livid.

He slammed his hands on his desk before standing up and glaring down at Hermione.

Looking up at the angry man, all logic left her head.

While her adult mind was yelling at her to pull herself together, her eleven-year-old body was terrified of the scowling man and wanted nothing more than curl into a little ball and bawl her eyes out.

"I'm sorry, alright! My actions were uncalled for, but still, I'm trying my best," she answered with a shaky voice.

Rodolphus pinched his nose with his free hand before taking a deep breath and sitting down again. "Come here. Tell me what you've accomplished, and I might lessen your punishment."

She gulped, aware that she was walking on thin ice right now and sat down on the other side of the desk. "I'm helping Riddle out twice a week with getting around the wizarding world and sometimes study with him and Malfoy," she paused to see Rodolphus' reaction to her words before continuing. "We-Well, he said it's good that I'm a Gryffindor because I'm not trying to gain anything by helping him…Ironic, I know." she joked, but her father's stern gaze quickly wiped the tiny smile from her face.

"What else?" the man drawled, making Hermione shuffle uncomfortably in her chair.

"I think that's already quite a lot. It's only been a little over two months," she murmured quietly, fear churning her stomach in intense cramps.

Hermione thought she'd achieved a lot since starting school, but Rodolphus only pressed his lips into a thin line at her answer.

"From now on, you'll write to me once a week. I want to know everything."

Hermione clenched her teeth at the man's words but nodded. She could talk to him about her wish to visit Charlus when he calmed down.

"Now, for your punishment"-

Hermione's head snapped back to his hollow face, dreading what would follow next. She gripped her wand even tighter, ready to deflect any curses he might throw at her.

"Winny!"

Dread began creeping over Hermione like an icy chill. "No," she whispered, desperately trying to think of anything to stop the man from hurting the innocent creature.

The little elf appeared at Hermione's side, clearly happy to see her Mistress.

"Master Lestrange called Winny?"

Hermione felt her insides turn as she watched Rodolphus' sinister smile. He knew he had her.

"Winny, your Mistress has been a very naughty witchling for the past two months."

The elf's eyes widened at her master's words. Winny turned around to face Hermione. She stood frozen by her chair, fear engulfing her conscience and knocking aside all other thoughts.

"Rodolphus, please don't. I beg you." She should've known that the man would find a way to truly hurt Hermione after already breaking her wand the year before. However, she knew that threatening the man would backfire, so instead, she swallowed her pride to protect the little elf.

"Miss Hermione! Winny is pleased to see Missy again. But Missy shouldn't have disobeyed her father. Winny will gladly take all the blame."

"No, no, no, you don't have to, Winny, it's my fault. You should just leave. You're my elf so leave right now." she tried, but much to Rodolphus' glee, the elf just shook its head.

"Winny must listen to Master Lestrange first. Winny is sorry, Missy."

Hermione felt sick as she watched the elf cower in front of her mockery of a father, who lazily twirled his wand in his right hand before pointing it at her elf.

"Crucio." he spoke calmly and watched the elf squirming on the hard floor.

A sob escaped Hermione's dry lips. She helplessly grabbed her wand, torn between helping Winny and holding herself back to avoid an even crueller punishment. Finally, Rodolphus lifted the curse, and Hermione hurried over to the crying elf, helping the hurt creature stand. She glared at the older Lestrange brother.

"You're a monster."

The man just laughed. "Your turn."

Hermione blanched. "What?"

"Do your worst or I'll gut that thing and make you clean up the mess afterwards." Rodolphus threatened.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her mind drawing a complete blank. This wasn't happening. She'd never forgive herself.

"Let's have some fun, my dear, shall we?" the older man patted the top of her head in a grotesque imitation of affection.

Hermione hesitated for another second. He'd kill the elf. She was sure of it. Hurting Winny was her only way to save her. She had to be strong.

A deep breath was all it took. "Sectumsempra."

The elf dropped back to the ground with a yelp, dark blood soaking the thin cloth it was wearing. Rodolphus' calloused hands wandered down her exposed arms, an appreciative hum falling from his lips as he appraised Hermione's spell work. He hadn't expected the girl to know any of his old housemate's curses.

Hermione felt numb. A heartbeat passed, then two. Winny was whimpering at her feet. The horror of what she'd just done hit her with full force. Disgust curled up inside her and clung to her ribs, settling uncomfortably in her heart.

"I- I'm so sorry, I"- She hurriedly took off her coat to press it onto the bleeding cuts littering the tiny elf's body.

"Leave us, Winny." Rodolphus snarled before Hermione could reach the shaking creature that immediately apparated away.

Hermione whirled around, fully intending to hex the man when she was met with the end of his wand instead.

"Ah, ah, ah, one word, and we'll repeat this whole endeavour." he dared her.

Hermione immediately closed her mouth, feeling her insides twist at the man's cold gaze. How can a person be so vile?

"Now, I think you've learned your lesson, don't try me, Hermione. It won't end pretty." Grabbing her shoulder, the man hissed a few more threats before rereleasing the crying girl, harshly shoving her away from him.

"Think about your mistakes, and don't be late for dinner tonight. You may leave."

Hermione wiped at her hot tears, giving the man one last disgusted look before hurrying out of the room. She felt utterly empty inside…


"You betrayed them."

"You are a traitor. Why couldn't you just stay dead?!"

"What would Harry and Ron say when they saw you right now?"

With a gasp, Hermione woke up, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Clutching her rapidly beating heart, she tried to calm herself down a little before quietly slipping out from under her heavy blankets.

Exhausted, the young girl dragged herself into her bathroom and splashed some icy water on her face, washing away her tears. She looked up from the sink into the mirror on the wall in front of her and sighed.

She was no stranger to nightmares, having struggled with them since she had witnessed Harry sobbing over Cedric Diggory's pale corpse in her fourth year. First, she had tried to just live with them, but the events in the following years got progressively worse, forcing her to turn to sleeping draughts and other potions to get her through the night.

Hermione drew in a shaky breath and pulled her thin nightgown closer to her shivering body. I need to get my act together. It's Christmas eve, so no more dark thoughts for now. She dried off her face and filled herself a glass of water before crawling back into her bed, praying that she would get at least a few hours of sleep before sunrise...


Christmas, or rather Yule, ended up being one of the most awkward events Hermione had ever had the misfortune to attend. As she sat next to Rodolphus, contemplating if ramming her fork into her face to get away from the table was worth the pain, Hermione swore to herself to just pretend to be sick next year.

The irritated girl watched Rabastan, and his girlfriend throwing longing gazes at each other over the rims of their wine glasses, trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Merlin, those two are on another level. Rodolphus pointedly cleared his throat as the couple started whispering sweet words to each other. The pair immediately turned their attention back to their own plates.

"So, Gryffindor, hm? How did you end up there, Hermione?"

The girl in question stiffened at the woman's words, her memories of the fight with Rodolphus still fresh in her mind. She swallowed her dessert before looking at her uncle's pretty pureblood girlfriend. Never in her life had she met a posher woman than Loreen Mulciber, well, maybe except for Narcissa Malfoy. Rabastan's girlfriend was the polar opposite of the man with her silky golden hair and bright eyes that seemed to judge whomever they were currently looking at.

"Well, I guess the hat thought me to look prettier in red than green," Hermione answered sweetly, awkwardly joining the woman in her pretentious giggling.

Rodolphus and his brother were watching her every move. The younger Lestrange brother was ready to come to his beloved's defence should Hermione tire of the woman's constant chatter and do something more drastic than using sarcasm with the simple-minded chit.

She couldn't blame the man, really. Seeing how many arguments turned duels he had to break up between herself and Rodolphus at this table, it was no wonder he got nervous around the two. Still, Hermione enjoyed his discomfort immensely, seeing as it was ultimately his fault that she had to play happy family with them for his beloved Loreen.

"Aren't you just the cutest thing! I'm sure the boys at Hogwarts are falling over their feet to go out with you."

At the woman's supposedly funny comment, Hermione choked on her water. "I'm eleven. Boys are just gross." Then, trying to act her age, she shot Rabastan a hostile glance. If the woman continued bothering her, she'd lose her mind.

"Of course, they are, sweetie, but they'll get better with age, just like wine, believe me." she giggled again.

Hermione felt like throwing her plate at the silly woman. Why were all the women in this era so…dim-witted? Maybe I'm just hanging out with the wrong crowd. I bet Minerva's mother would rather eat a broom than let her husband treat her like a five-year-old.

"I'm finished. May I leave the table, Rod-father?" she almost pleaded.

Obviously, the man was just as done with this ordeal as she was. He looked at her with a calculating expression on his freshly shaven face, contemplating if he felt generous enough to let the girl off the hook. Then, after a few nerve-wracking seconds, he finally nodded.

Hermione flashed him what she hoped would pass as a smile before bidding her goodbye to Loreen...


"Merlin, where did Rabastan find this woman?" Hermione murmured as she peeled herself out of her stuffy black dress, throwing the ugly thing to the far back of her room.

"Does Missy want Winny to run her a bath?"

Hermione looked at the timid house-elf standing at the foot of her bed, once again overcome with guilt.

"How are you doing, Winny?" Hermione stammered as she inspected the now clean sheet the elf was wearing.

"Winny is fine, don't worry, Miss Hermione. Winny is glad that Master punished Winny instead of Missy."

Hermione felt her throat constrict painfully at the elf's kind words. She'd never forgive herself. She may have saved Winny's life but at what cost?

Rodolphus had hurt Hermione more than any actual physical harm could have ever done with his order. Every day her resentment for the wizard grew, festering inside her and devouring whatever was left of her gentle heart.

"Please, if you need anything. Tell me."

The elf's big ears twitched nervously at Hermione's offer, but Winny smiled kindly at her young Mistress. "Winny will! But now Missy really needs to take a bath. Up, up!" The elf ushered the spluttering girl into the bathroom. It filled the bathtub with the most amazing-smelling oils before forcing Hermione out of her underwear and into the hot water.

"Thanks for everything, Winny. I- appreciate it," she whispered into the bubbles.

The elf nodded good-heartedly before apparating from the room, leaving the young girl to her thoughts…


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