AN: Truly, to call this a fanfiction is a bit of a stretch. The two main characters are Hermione Granger and an original male character, who has absolutely no basis in the Harry Potter fandom whatsoever. However, I love the Harry Potter Universe to such an extent, and the character of Hermione Granger in particular, that I decided to place my story within it. While it will generally follow canon, it will of course veer off track every now and then to fit the story I have in mind. A story which is hardly fleshed out and will develop wherever my minds takes it. I'd like this story first and foremost to be a romance, with large bits of angst, suspension and even a little bit of thrill involved. With the House of Black involved, how could it be any other way?

A Shot in The Dark

Prologue

Hermione Granger had a secret. One no one knew. Not Harry Potter. Not Ronald Weasley. No one.

She was best friends with a Slytherin.

Yes, a slimey, bigoted, trecherous Slytherin. Except well…he wasn't any of those things. Sure, he was dark and brooding and incredibly intense at the best of times. But he was also charming, witty, clever and possibly just as intelligent as herself.

She didn't know if she was his best friend, at least he'd never said the words, but she knew for certain that she was someone, possibly the only one in the castle, perhaps the world, that he cared for. And truly, it made little sense to her. He was nobility, a full fledged peer of the highest rank in the magical world. He was likely the best wizard she's ever met, with the exception of perhaps Headmaster Dumbledore. And she, while incredibly intelligent and good at magic, could not quite match his prodigious ability with a wand in hand. She was sure he could have graduated with all Os two years ago.

She was as close to a commoner as one could get, compared to him. Truly, she was perhaps even lower than that. A mudblood , they call her. Or, at least they do when he's not around to hear it. It's one of the little ways she knows he cares about her. When he steps into a room, the constant sneers and derivative remarks become conspicuously absent. She wonders if it's respect or fear. Perhaps it was his presence alone. He was an enigma, even to her much of the time. He exuded an aura of darkness and it was dare she say, a bit sinister. She'd seen him direct his housemates with little more than long stares, glances and subtle nods. With her, he just seemed like a teenage boy, who had perhaps seen and done a bit too much.

He was everything Draco Malfoy wanted to be, while being everything Draco wasn't. He was cool and indifferent, coming off aloof to those who didn't know him, which she was almost positive was everyone but her. He did seem to have a bit of a soft spot for the younger years sometimes, if rumor was to be believed—and her, of course…However when his impossibly violet eyes met her own chocolatey gaze, she could often see glints and glimmers of amusement, boredom, and sometimes, when she caught him watching her when he thought no one would notice, frustration. And if she was honest, she felt it too. He had been trying to convince her since Third year to let the world know they were friends. To let Harry and Ron know, they were friends. She knew it bothered him greatly, and was one of the few points of contention between them.

And then add on top of all that of course, her two other best friends, Harry and Ron, loathed him, nearly as much as they did Malfoy. And even worse, Perseus hated Ron with a fierceness that she didn't know he possessed. Everytime he found her, crying or upset because of something Ron said to her, she had to all but beg Perseus not to find the boy and hurt him. And she knew he would. He was not like Harry or Ron. He was not too noble for his own good, or too hamstrung by the moral high ground. He played by his own set of rules, and so would everyone else when he decided to bring you into the game. She knew that he'd cause serious harm to Ron and say damn the consequences if she didn't stop him. In Fifth year, when Seventh year Slytherin, Cassius Warrington, told her she was a mudblood who was fit to do nothing more than spread her legs for her betters, he had ended up having to be transferred to Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. Someone had cursed him so badly he believed that something was living under his skin. He had dug the skin of his face and neck so completely raw he was hardly recognizable. The Healers at St. Mungos had originally thought the curse to be in his head, and had spent an entire day scouring his mind. Eventually, one noticed the usually fair skinned Cassius was slowly turning brown. Upon closer inspection, it turned out something was going on underneath Cassius's skin. The so-called pure blood running through Cassius's veins was slowly but surely turning to mud. Two more days, and he'd have been beyond saving, they said. As it was, it took a collaboration of Healers, Curse Breakers, and Unspeakables to break the curse placed upon Warrington. He'd avoided Hermione like the plague since his return to Hogwarts.

There had only been four other students around when Cassius had said the words that made her face ball up and her eyes fill with tears. Only one of them would understand the significance of the words, and the agony they caused her. And she distinctly remembered the purple eyed gaze of her best friend. She never asked, and he never told. But she always knew.

So, how did she come to be best friends with His Grace, Perseus Sirius Black, Duke of Camelot? Well, the same way she became friends with Harry and Ron, of course.

It all started with a Troll.


She didn't know why she thought this would be different. That the magical world is somewhere she belonged . But it was all the same, it would always be the same , she thought as she struggled to get her sobs under control. She was so tempted to go to the Headmaster and tell him that she quit, that despite her magic, she obviously did not belong here , surrounded by redheaded idiots and blonde haired bigots. But she couldn't. She loved magic in a way she'd never loved anything ever before, more than she loved learning. And that's all she had tried to do, was share that joy and excitement she felt to her very core everytime she accomplished a new spell.

'Wingardium Leviosa' she'd said, giving great emphasis where the textbook had instructed. And instead of her help being appreciated, it was rejected, publicly and harshly in front of the entire year group of not only her own house, but also the Slytherins, who already looked at her as if she were worth the scum scraped off a boot. It was all too much, and no longer could she stifle her sobs, weeping into her hands in an abandoned girls bathroom.

"Hello?" A voice called, it's whisper echoing through the bathroom as it bounced off the walls. Her sobs quieted to sniffles as she tried to compose herself. Scrambling from the toilet she'd been sitting on, Hermione peeked her head out of the stall, a bemused look on her face, as if it had never occurred to her someone might hear her sobs echoing throughout the bathroom. And there, standing a few feet inside the girls bathroom, was a boy certainly prettier than many girls, dressed in fine black robes, perhaps made of some sort of silk, a silver and green tie fastened around his neck. She recognized him from class. And she certainly recognized his silver and green tie.

He was tall, or a fair bit taller than her anyway, not that that was saying much. He was rather lean, his body slim even in the robe he wore. His hair was a tangle of midnight curls atop his head, though they shined luxuriously, even in the dim light offered by the torches. A few pieces fell about his face, sometimes obscuring his startling eyes. If Hermione wasn't seeing it with her own eyes, she'd think it impossible. The boy had purple eyes! Not a dark blue, but an honest to god dark and pure violet. As she stared at him, she saw his pinched brow and realized he must've been waiting for her to speak.

"You really shouldn't be in the girls' bathroom," she said without thinking, her voice shaky, "you could really get in trouble!" Her eyes darted about as if a Professor would simply materialize at the barest hint of rule breaking.

His fair skin took on the faintest of blushes. "And you'd have preferred I left you in here to," he paused, searching his vocabulary for a suitable word, "wallow all alone?" His voice was quiet and soft, and Hermione was sure she'd never heard him speak before in class.

"I'm afraid you've already missed the feast," he said in the same soft voice, pulling a shiny golden pocket watch from within his robe. Hermione noticed it seemed to have a constellation on the back, every star represented by a sparkling diamond. The casual display of wealth was a bit jarring. "If you're truly hungry, I hear some of the older years may know a way to the kitchens." He pocketed his watch again, finally giving her his full attention.

"Well, I suppose—" Hermione's face scrunched up at the repugnant smell that flooded the bathroom. For a moment, she had the absurd idea that the boy across from her had just passed gas or perhaps let off a stink bomb of some sort, but she saw by the way his face screwed up he was just as disgusted as her.

"Merlin," he said, covering his mouth and nose with his hand. "What has Peeves done now?"

Hermione nearly wretched at the stench, and could only scream in terror as the bathroom door was thrown off its hinges, and a massive green figure lumbered into the room. Perseus, who had been still standing in the doorway, let out a faint cry of pain as the massive wooden door clipped him in the side and the force of it sent him flying. Hermione could only let out another cry of shock as he landed harshly on the tiled floor at her feet.

She moved quickly to help him to his feet, noticing that his right arm hung limply at his side. He grimaced and took in a sharp breath as she grabbed his arm just a bit too tightly, forgetting to let go, lost in her terror. She stared blankly at what she now recognized as a mountain troll, as it swung its massive club about the bathroom, smashing porcelain sinks—water spewing all over.

Perseus was not so dumbstruck with fright at what was happening in front of him, and had his wand in his hand. Hermione watched as he stared at the troll intensely for a moment, before he stuck his wand straight into the air, high over his head.

" Lumos Maxima," he cast, Hermione just barely making out the incantation.

Hermione was forced to turn her head and close her eyes as blinding white light seared her eyes and a loud bang nearly deafened her. The combination made her nauseous, and she fought with the urge to heave, before emptying her stomach all over Perseus's limp hanging arm, which she'd yet to release.

On his part, Perseus did not even acknowledge the fact that the girl had vomited on him. He was far too busy pulling them as far away from the drunkenly stumbling troll as quickly as he could before it could recover its senses. They had not even made it 6 steps before he flung the two of them into a stall, narrowly avoiding the path of the trolls club. The grunts and guttural noises of the troll, along with the spewing of the sinks nearly drowned out the sound of a third voice entering the bathroom.

"Bloody hell!" said a voice that Hermione was sure she'd recognize anywhere after what had happened earlier that day. Ronald Weasley. What on earth is Ronald Weasley doing here? From what she'd seen of the boy, he wouldn't miss a feast to save his own life.

Curiosity overruled her fear, and she peeked her head out of the stall once more, ignoring the pained wince of her companion as she dragged him with her. To say she was surprised would be an understatement. Standing there in the destroyed doorway were none other than her tormentor, Ronald Weasley, and his best friend, The Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter.

Both stared at the troll with abject horror on their faces. And, in what she would say is the most shocking moment of her life, Harry Potter jumped onto the back of the troll as it was mid swing, in another attempt to crush both her and Perseus. They both watched in awe as the boy jammed his wand up the troll's nose.

" Wingardium Leviosa!" Said Ron, ironically just how Hermione had shown him earlier that day.

They watched as the boy levitated the club out of the troll's hands, and he attempted to move it away from the troll. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for them, his sudden grasp of the spell left him quickly, and Hermione gasped as the spell failed and the club, floating precariously in the air over the troll, dropped suddenly onto the troll's head with a massive crack! She could only watch in shock as the large wooden club bounced off its rock solid skull and headed straight for her and Perseus. Again, she stood frozen, able only to stare. Perseus came to her rescue again, uttering yet another spell she'd never even heard of.

" Lignum Confractus!" he whispered heatedly, and a pale brown spell hit the club midair, where it's heft was quickly reduced to what seemed like a million splinters of wood, many of which quickly pierced the skin of his hands and face. Hermione still had not moved, and continued to stare as the now obviously unconscious troll toppled over, headed right for the pair of them.

She was bodily shoved out of the way, falling and bumping her head on the edge of a stall door. She watched through blurry eyes as Perseus scrambled to escape, having prioritized getting her out of the way first. He didn't make it in time, and his right leg was crushed by the weight of the troll with a sickening crunch that she was sure she'd never forget.

"Arghhhh!" His scream was raspy and barely audible. Hermione watched his eyes roll up into his head and he fell silent, his body still beneath the massive troll.


Perseus winced as the horrid smell of potions and antiseptic washed over him. There was only one thing that smelled like that. Great , he thought. I'm in the hospital. He opened his eyes slowly, giving himself a moment to readjust to the light. He looked around, and barely stopped himself from flinching violently as his hand was tugged. There was a girl sitting at his bedside. Hermione Granger, he remembered from class. She sat in a chair pulled very close to his bed, her right hand holding his own, and the other rested under her head, which rested on his leg. He couldn't see her face, only the wild beast that she called hair.

Perseus had no idea what to do. He'd never been touched like this before. The hand gripping his was warm and firm, and the breath he could feel on his leg through the thin sheet of the hospital bed was also warm and pleasant. She was at ease, her breaths coming slow and steady, as opposed to his own, which came out sharp and needy to his ears. He could feel his skin prickling where they touched, and had to focus very hard so that his magic did not lash out at the girl.

He heard the sound of hurried footsteps. She must've used a spell to alert her when I woke up, he thought, eyes regaining a bit of shine at the thought. How fascinating.

Around the corner came a severe but kind looking older woman, who hesitated for only a second at the sight of the extra person in her ward.

"Mr. Black," she said, gazing at him intently as she waved her wand to and fro along his body. "I am glad to see that you're awake." She seemed to read invisible results in the air, obviously the result of whatever spell she was just using. "The damage appears to have been completely healed. I'd say you were lucky to be unconscious as long as you were, Mr. Black. Regrowing bones is quite the unpleasant experience."

He grimaced, glancing down at his leg. His eyes snapped back to the girl at his side, who was now awake and grasping his hand harder than ever. She stared at him with brown doe eyes that seemed a tad too big for her face. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. He was planning to ask her if she'd let his hand go, as he was positive his finger tips were turning blue. She had quite a strong grip for such a small girl. And then, she launched herself at him.

Perseus nearly seized as strong, thin arms wrapped around his middle and a bush of brown curls invaded his senses. His body was rigid in her grip, and he found he couldn't move. He felt himself begin to shake. The only thing that stopped his magic lashing out and flinging the girl across the room was the memory of him saving her the day before, and the smell of vanilla and perhaps fresh brewed coffee. Warmth suffused his body, originating from his chest and flooding his limb the way to his toes.

He made eye contact with the matron over Hermione's shoulder. She seemed to break out of whatever daze she was in, bustling over.

"Miss Granger," she said sharply. "I need to remove Mr. Black's robes to view his injuries." Hermione pulled back quickly, a blush rapidly blossoming on her face. "Please go wait in my office dear, I'll let you know when I'm done." She said, all but pushing Hermione towards her office. As soon as she was in the office and the door was closed, the matron turned back to him, her face grim.

"Now Mr. Black," she said, moving to his bedside. "I've seen that response enough to know what it entails," she raised a hand to forestall his immediate protest. "I didn't think you'd be the type to want to talk about it, at least not now, and probably not ever with me." She said, before glancing back at her office door. "That girl you saved in there," she nodded towards her office. "Something tells me you've made a friend forever, and I have a feeling you could use someone like her." Perseus's eyes widened, a bit of wonder entering his purple eyes, before they instantly filled with doubt, and no small amount of pain. "Now, stay right here while I go get Miss Granger."

As soon as she turned away, Perseus was sliding out of the bed, his knees nearly buckling. Merlin, he didn't think he'd been in the bed long enough for his legs to grow weak. Steadying himself on the edge of the bed, he crept quickly to the door, glancing forlornly at the office, before he slipped out.

When Hermione returned to Perseus' bed, he was gone. She didn't even get to say a simple thank you. She'd been trying to talk to him for weeks now, but found the boy to be surprisingly elusive. She'd seen him only in their shared potions class. He hadn't even been at the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game, as far as she could see.

Another surprise were the two new friends she made. Her two other would-be rescuers, Harry and Ron, were now inseparable from her. She was best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived. In some ways it surprised her, in some ways it didn't. It was obvious to her Ron was only hanging around her because Harry was, and perhaps because he felt guilty for the way he'd been treating her. Plus, he seemed to think of her as his personal homework resource. Honestly. Harry, on the other hand, was a bit antisocial, from what she could tell. He didn't seem to do well with large groups, and preferred the company of her and Ron. He showed many of the same signs she did, of a childhood filled with no friends. The same signs she saw in Perseus.

Hermione sighed and closed her book, pushing it into her satchel. The library was empty aside from a few older Ravenclaws. Curfew was approaching. She wouldn't give up on getting Perseus alone to talk to him, away from prying eyes and certainly away from the rest of his House. Hopefully she hadn't scared him away when she pounced on him in the hospital wing. But what did he expect? He saved her life from a troll of all things! He, a slytherin, had risked his own life to save her. Did the boy think he could just sweep in and save her life and she'd act like nothing happened? He'd done more for her than anyone else ever had, excluding her parents. She was determined to thank the boy, whether he wanted to accept it or not.