Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 1-Solace in Sore Hands

Oh my God, this hurts like hell.
I had that dream again where
I was lost for good in outer space.
Tell me, doctor, how to shake
A waking nightmare that is only
Worse when I am sleeping.

-Kill the Messenger by Jack's Mannequin

Harry spent the rest of the evening (afternoon? morning?) trying to build up enough power to get his chains to release him. It was strenuous work. He was unsure of the type of spell placed on them, and, in addition to that, the magic dampener on the entire cell left him with less than his normal magical capabilities-hardly enough to even begin to attempt wandless magic. On top of all that, he was hungry, tired, sore, and starting to feel more than a little helpless.

`I think that if there's any way out of here, you'll find it.'

And then there was that damnable woman. How could any Death Eater, never mind the cold-blooded killer of Shacklebolt, be so intriguing? Thinking back on the entire conversation with her, and the two had he had previously witnessed, caused his mind to spin in confusion. Despite the fact that he had spent hours reviewing Death Eater profiles, he knew precious little about Hermione Granger. The Order had only found out about her murder of Shacklebolt through the interrogation with Veritaserum of another Death Eater. Aside from that, they only knew she had become a Death Eater three years ago. They had not, however, known she was so young, or so unique, for that matter, especially for a Death Eater.

Harry shook his head, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. It was no use however. He knew he would not get out of this cell, let alone the castle, without help. Hopefully, the Order would come for him soon, or-

The door leading into the dungeons suddenly slammed shut, rattling the bars of his cell. Loud footsteps echoed down the hall and the torch across from his cell flared to a massive height, it's flame nearly touching the ceiling.

Harry suppressed a wince; someone who was very powerful and very angry was coming to see him.

The door to his cell flew open before his visitor came into view, but when Hermione Granger stalked in, a large bloody cut running diagonally across her face, he felt oddly relieved.

She stopped in front of him abruptly, throwing a steel platter at his feet and releasing his bindings. She once again conjured two chairs and slumped into the one closest to the door.

He eyed the food suspiciously.

"Oh, honestly!" She huffed. "If we wanted you dead, we would have done it already."

"So you don't want me dead, then?"

"Not yet. The Dark Lord wants to use a potion to remove that Horcrux from your forehead and place it back in his body. Then he'll kill you."

Harry starred.

"What! It hardly matters if you know or not." She replied, almost defensively.

A drop of blood fell off her face onto her robe. She frowned as it rolled down the fabric and hit the floor without leaving a stain.

"After a while, every Death Eater learns to charm their robes to be blood-resistant."

"That's morbid." He quipped, in considerably better spirits now that he had food.

She shrugged and touched her hand to her face, scowling when her hand came back covered in blood. "Bugger it all. That bastard."

Harry almost asked what was wrong before he remembered where he was and what this woman was. She conjured a mirror, scowled again when she saw her face, and then ran her wand along the gash. Only a faint line was left behind, extending from her left eyebrow, across her nose, and down to her right jaw line.

"It'll fade, eventually."

"I couldn't care less."

She let out a short laugh. "I highly doubt that, but nevertheless, your feelings toward me are duly noted."

Harry repressed the bizarre urge to apologize.

"How do you know what Voldemort wants to do with me?"

"Oh, that's simple. I'm making the potion that's going to rip the piece of his soul from your body."

Harry wondered how it was possible for her to sound so nonchalant while saying that.

"You-but-?"

"After Snape died, the responsibility fell to me."

"Snape's dead?" He nearly shouted.

She raised an eyebrow. "That's how we knew how and when to capture you."

"You're lying."

"What reason do I have to?"

"I cannot begin to imagine the way a Death Eater's twisted mind works."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "No, I would imagine not. Either way, Snape is dead. Capturing you was relatively easy after we acquired the information about when you might be alone."

"Snape wouldn't have known that information anyways. He showed his true colors after he killed Dumbledore."

Hermione smiled. "Cute, Harry. Protecting your spy even after his death, even just before your own. Either way, he did have that information. I would know-I was the one who took it from his mind."

"Legilimency? Impossible. Your story needs straightening. Snape is a master Occlumens."

"Was a master Occlumens. But it's hard to resists the intrusion of two Legilimens while being tortured."

"Two-"

"The Dark Lord and I. Snape never stood a chance."

Harry let out a growl; the lone torch began to flicker. Hermione glanced at him thoughtfully, raising her wand, but then shrugged and dropped it to her side again, leaving him unchained.

"It's really a shame. I rather liked Severus Snape, in an odd sort of way. He taught me a great deal about potions." She smiled sadly.

Harry shook his head then let it fall back on the wall with a dull thud. "What do you want from me? I don't understand what you're doing at all. I don't understand you at all."

"Are you ever going to sit in this chair I've conjured for you? It has a cushioning charm on it."

Harry peered at her from the floor, then gingerly stood, stretching his limbs, and sat in the chair stiffly. After a moment or two when nothing happened, he relaxed into the cushions.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

"You never answered my question." Harry stated flatly.

"I don't want anything from you, Harry."

"Don't call me that."

"What? Your name?" She asked amused. "Well, I suppose that the fact that I'm going to help kill you does put a damper on our relationship."

"You-Merlin-What's the matter with you? How can you say something like that? How can you kill people, just because your master doesn't like them? How do you live with yourself?"

She sighed, her eyes flickering away from his. "I doubt I could make you understand."

Harry frowned, surprised she had actually answered. Hermione stood and moved to vanish the chairs, obviously getting ready to leave.

"Wait!" Harry called, surprising himself.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up into her fringe.

"Er-I-" He ran a hand through his hair. "Make me understand. I want to."

A strange look passed across Hermione's face. "You're a very rare person, Harry Potter." She sat back down and leaned forward-so close that he could see the individual gold specks in her eyes. "Enter my mind, then."

"What?"

"Enter my mind," she repeated. "I'll show you what you need to know."

"You're going to let me enter your mind?"

"You won't find out anything you're not supposed to."

"I-You're mad."

She shrugged. "I prefer confident."

"Fine." He stared into her eyes, sharpening his focus on her thoughts.

She reached out to grip his hand; he nearly jumped, losing his focus. "Physical contact helps. Now, relax. I'll guide you."

In the back of his mind, Harry realized this was crazy. There were a million reasons why he should not be doing this with a Death Eater, no matter how unusual that Death Eater was.

And yet-he did not want to stop. And for some reason he knew she was not going to hurt him, not now, at least.

So he took the plunge-pushed into her mind until he found himself in a new surrounding all together, a new, warmer, comfortable surrounding.

"Where are we?" He asked, getting comfortable in the overstuffed armchair.

Hermione smiled gently. "This is my mind."

Harry looked around. "A library?"

"My favorite place to be." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back into the chair and propping her legs up on the table in front of her.

It was the first time he had seen her look peaceful, and Harry found he enjoyed the sight of it.

After a time, Hermione stood. "Well, let's get we came for."

"Sorry?"

"I'm going to help you understand. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Well, yes."

"The best way to understand is to see it from my perspective, so I'm going to show you a few memories. Follow me." She disappeared into the many bookshelves. Harry quickly followed.

"This place is massive."

"I should hope so, with all the things I've learned over the years. Don't worry though, it's very organized." She pointed to a small sign on a random bookshelf. "Each shelf is labeled."

Harry squinted at the neat script. "It's numeric."

"I still strongly support the Dewy Decimal System," she said with a light tone. "It's only appropriate I arrange my mind in a similar fashion. Ah, here we are. I don't suppose you know French."

"No, but what-"

"No matter. I have a translated version as well." She moved into the aisle, her hands brushing across each book as she passed it. "Here it is." She pulled a book with a dark blue cover from the shelf. "Are you ready?"

"I suppose so."

She opened the book; the library disappeared in a flash of white.

"Why if it isn't the little know-it-all mudblood."

Harry glanced around. They were still in a library, but one of a different sort. Hermione stood next to him looking at the scene in front of him sadly. Two blonde girls in light blue uniforms stood in front of a circle table at which a smaller girl with frizzy brown hair and rather large front teeth sat.

"Is that-?"

"- me? Yes." Hermione finished. "This was my fourth year at Beauxbatons."

"What do you think Aimee?"

"Oh, I think the hair, definitely."

"Could be the teeth though."

"Or the figure-or lack thereof."

The two girls giggled cruelly.

"Well, Granger. What do you think? What's your worst quality?"

The younger Hermione moved a large book in front of her face.

"She asked you a question, mudblood!" One of the girls yelled, swiping all the books off the table and grabbing the one from Hermione hand.

The younger Hermione's lower lip trembled.

"Oh, Cerise! Look! She's going to cry."

The girls both laughed again.

"I-I don't care what you say a-about me. I'm still smarter than both of you. A-and I'm more powerful. I-I could beat you in a duel any day."

One of the girls sneered and leaned forward until she was face-to-face with the younger version of Hermione. "No one cares how smart you are, Granger," the girl began in a hiss, "or how powerful you are. You'll never matter, Granger. No matter how much time you spend in the library, no matter how many spells you learn, no matter how many times you beat someone in a duel, it won't matter, because you'll still be a mudblood. And no one cares what a mudblood does; you'll never matter to any one."

The memory faded away. He found himself back in Hermione's mind-library, still reeling from the emotions he felt pouring in waves from her. She was replacing the book onto the shelf.

"I-"

"Stop." She shook her head. "There's still more to see."

They walked back out into the main aisle, only to move down a few shelves and into a new side aisle where Hermione picked out another book, this one with an orange cover.

"Ready?"

He nodded.

"I assume you know why you are here, Mademoiselle Granger," stated an overly large woman. She was dressed in a purple, silk robe with rich jewels worn in every type of jewelry imaginable.

"Madame Maxime," Harry muttered.

Hermione glanced at him, surprised. "Oh yes, the Triwizard Tournament."

"Yes, Madame. I think so." The younger Hermione, similar in age to the last memory, stood in front of the Headmistress' desk, her hands shaking slightly.

"The prefect positions for 5^th years, as you know, are open to all students. They traditionally go to a student that shows outstanding academics and utmost respect for the rules."

"Yes, Madame, I know."

"You will not be getting one of the prefect positions next year, Mademoiselle Granger. Nor will you be getting the position of Head Girl in your last year."

"B-but Madame-"

"That is not to say that you are not qualified for the job. Your academics are of course, outstanding."

"B-but-"

"Unfortunately, for someone of your-status it is simply impossible to hold a position of authority."

The younger Hermione's lip stopped trembling. A stormy expression began to brew on her face.

"I only tell you this out of courtesy, Mademoiselle Granger, and I hope you will repay this favor by not causing any fuss over this."

"So, in short, the prefect position that should go to me, rightfully, is not because my parents are muggles."

"Yes, Mademoiselle Granger."

The girl began to shake violently. "You're saying that I'll be ignored, solely on the fact of my parentage?" She yelled.

"Mademoiselle! Calm yourself!"

"I will not!" All the glass objects in the room shattered. "I'm done with people not recognizing the work I do because I'm muggleborn!" A strong wind began to blow through the room, knocking portraits off the walls. Madame Maxime waved her wand about, but to no affect, the spells only bounced off the younger Hermione.

"I'll show you! I'll show you all! When you see me again you'll appreciate the talent I have! You'll appreciate the work I do!"

The younger Hermione fled the room, blowing open the doors to the Headmistress' office and running into the hallway. She did not get far until her progress was halted when she ran into a solid figure.

"Hermione! Are you quite alright?" The older boy reached down to help Hermione stand.

"D-Darcy! Yes, I'm fine." Hermione blushed. "Thank you for helping me up."

The young man grinned. "It's no problem at all ma belle."

Hermione's blush deepened.

"I have a letter for you Hermione, from a powerful man. I think his offer would interest you."

Removed from the memory, Harry stared at Hermione, watching as she carefully placed the book back in its place.

"Two more," she said softly.

Harry followed her, weaving in and out of the many bookshelves. He felt uneasy as they stopped at the second to last memory. She pulled out the book, its cover black, and opened it quickly.

"Hermione Granger. I am glad to finally meet you. I have heard of your accomplishments."

"Y-you have?"

"Of course, my dear." The man stared at her intently, his blood red eyes piercing into hers. Despite the occasional tremor, Hermione stood absolutely still, refusing to tear her eyes from his. "Yes." He hissed. "I see your power. I see your potential."

Hermione's back straightened. "You are the first."

"Others have wronged you, but I see what they have missed. I see your greatness. Stand by me and I will make sure no one takes advantage of your powers. I will make sure everyone knows of the talents of Hermione Granger. Your brilliance, your power, your strength-you will be recognized."

Hermione's eyes shifted uneasy.

"You have something you wish to say, child?"

"It's-it's just that you prosecute muggle-borns. You killed them in your first rising and will do so again."

"I only target those who are weak, Hermione. And weak you are not. There is only power and those too weak to seek it. I see already you have the strength to seek that power. You belong at my side-when I conquer this world, you will be given the recognition you deserve. I will help you rise, child. Let me help you rise!"

Hermione paused, but only for a moment. "Very well, my Lord. I accept your proposal."

In a flash the memory was gone.

"One more," Hermione sighed, suddenly looking beyond her years.

Harry followed her silently to the last memory. When she reached it, she hesitated, her index finger lightly touching the blood red spine. For some reason, Harry found himself reaching out to her, laying a hand gently on her shoulder, which seemed to droop as soon as he placed his palm on it. She grabbed the last book and flipped it open quickly.

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "NO!"

"Shut it, Granger. They're just muggles."

In a flash Hermione spun around and raised her hand out at the man who had spoken. His head fell off his body in a spray of blood, the surprised expression still frozen on his face.

The rest of the Death Eaters remained silent.

Hermione ignored them and stalked toward the house, her hair flowing behind her, her face set in fury. Before she could enter the flaming house, a figure with a billowing robe landed beside her. She whipped out her wand quickly, but froze when she saw the snake-like features of Lord Voldemort.

"My Lord-I must-"

"Hermione, they are dead."

"NO!" She screamed again. "I'm going to-"

"There." Voldemort pointed to the sky where a figure on a broomstick escaped from the crumbling house. Hermione peered into the sky, memorizing the figure of a tall, bald, black man. A glint of gold reflected off of his right ear. "There is your parents' murderer."

"I'll kill him," Hermione hissed viciously. "If it's the last thing I do. I'll kill him."

"Yes! Embrace your anger, Hermione!"

"My Lord, teach me. Advance my training schedule. I will do whatever it takes."

"Very well. If that is what you wish. Kingsley Shacklebolt will die at your hands, child. I promise."

Harry found himself on the floor of his cell when the memory ended. Hermione was already outside the cell door, waving her wand to reinstate the complex wards. She spared a glance at him, but then turned to go.

He still felt her lingering presence in his mind.

"Hermione!"

It was the first time he had used her name. It surprised the both of them.

She turned to face him. Her blank face flickered for a moment, showing a flash of pain.

"I'm sorry." He walked up to the cell door, almost, but not quite touching the charmed steel.

She moved back until she stood directly in front of him. Their eyes locked through the prison bars. "You shouldn't be." She whispered. "It shouldn't matter. I'm going to bring about your death. I represent everything you hate."

He stared down at her intently and, ignoring the piercing ache, reached through the cursed door to grasp her hand.

"I don't care." He grit out through the pain. "I don't bloody well care."

Notes:

• I love Hermione. She's my absolute favorite character (or at least, was, before the 6^th book). But everyone has their faults. I see Hermione's overzealous need to prove herself as her main fault, and so I used that as a focus as to how she became a Death Eater, which, in itself is very difficult to fathom.

• Voldemort stated in the very first book that he was only concerned with power. I think his hatred of muggles comes from their weakness (and the fact that someone of such weakness could cause his family such disgrace). The view of prejudice against muggleborns existed long before his existence, and his purpose in targeting them lies more in the fact that he could gain more support in doing so. I think he would be willing to overlook Hermione's parentage in favor of the skills she could bring.

• The fact that Hermione allowed Harry into her mind, and that he actually entered, will help along their relationship in ways that will become apparent over time.

• Thanks for all the great reviews, everyone!

• Thanks again to Stephanie, my beta.

• I forgot to mention that there is another version of this challenge here on Portkey called Captivated by [x]Mrs_H_Potter[x]. I'd definitely recommend that you all check it out if you enjoy this challenge concept.

Thanks for reading!

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