Chapter 1: His
Chapter Text
“Still nothing to say, Mudblood?” Voldemort hissed at Hermione, who lay prone at his feet. She pressed her lips together, trying not to scream. He looked down at her with barely contained glee at her pain. He lifted his foot and nudged her side, letting out a small hissing laugh when Hermione cried out.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. The last thing she remembered was battling at the Department of Mysteries, seeing Voldemort in all his glory. A curse hit her abdomen, and she cast a silencing spell a little too late. Someone grabbed her from behind, and the world went black.
She awoke to the sound of dripping water. Pressing her hand against her abdomen, she winced, feeling the dull ache radiating throughout. She rubbed the grime from her eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light, and sat up.
Three solid stone walls surrounded her, bars on the fourth. A prison?
She got her answer when Bellatrix cackled, tapping her wand against the cell to open the door, and dragging her up a set of stairs by the hair, her body hitting each step as she struggled in her grasp, her body too weak to put up much of a fight.
Bellatrix’s maniacal laughter caused her to shiver. “There is no use in struggling, Mudblood. You are going to see My Lord,” she grinned back at her, yanking harder on her hair. “Oh, yes. My Lord is interested in you, Harry Potter’s Mudblood Whore .”
Hermione gripped her hair, trying to lessen the pain, but it was no use. Bellatrix opened a large, ornate double door and dragged her towards her destination.
Panic clawed at her throat as she saw a sea of black robes and masks. She was going to die. This was how her life would end.
Her tender body bounced off the lower step of the throne, and she looked up into crimson eyes and shuddered and tried to crawl away.
She recognised the person on the throne. It was Voldemort.
“Crucio,” Bellatrix screamed, hitting Hermione with yet another round of pain.
The copper taste of her blood grounded her. Her body arched, and a hoarse scream tore through her throat. She was going to die; she knew that these were her last moments, but she had to protect Harry.
“Enough,” Voldemort said.
Turning his head, he looked over at someone. “Lucius, bring me some of the legitimacy papers if you please. Perhaps we could loosen her tongue when we bring her family here.”
A broken sob was all Hermione could manage. Her body twitched on the cool floor, trying to ignore the burning pain that ripped through her. The surrounding Death Eaters chuckled at her plight.
Voldemort yanked her hair into a sitting position. “No death for you, I’m afraid,” he smiled down at her maliciously, “That is, not until I get the answers I seek.”
She flinched at the clicking of heels on the marble floor. Lucius wordlessly handed the parchment to Voldemort, then shuffled back.
All the Death Eaters were present for this ‘special event'. They had Harry Potter’s special Mudblood. There was no escape for her; all she could do was hope they would finally end her suffering. She wanted to die, eager even to embrace death to stop the pain.
Grasping Hermione’s wrist tightly, he tightened his hold when she clenched her fists, weakly struggling against his grasp.
Shifting his grip, he raised his wand and sliced her wrist, pulling her wound open over the parchment that lay on the floor, watching as the crimson blood oozed from her flesh to the paper.
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Voldemort shoved her away, disgusted. She was nothing but a filthy Mudblood, but they were unable to break into her mind. He had been surprised at her Occlumency shields, how well they held against his intrusion. He was far from gentle with her and used all the skill he had to penetrate them, but to no avail. She was a foolish girl even to think she could best Lord Voldemort. It was a foolish plan on her part, but he had to admit he was pleased with her strength, a worthy adversary for once. It seemed such a waste that he was going to have to kill her and leave her mangled body for Dumbledore to find in a few days. That is, after he gave her to Greyback to play with.
She had talent, that was for sure. It was a shame that her blood status would mean her death. He had no use for Mudbloods in his ranks. He wanted a clean and perfect world.
He gathered up the parchment. His red eyes scanned the words as they slowly appeared. Sitting on his throne in the middle of the room, he hunched over the parchment, his eyes flicking to the girl now and then.
She was not a Mudblood.
She was his. HIS child.
Clenching his jaw with an audible click, his eyes found Lucius. “Get me another,” he hissed.
Lucius's eyes widened for a moment. He turned on his heel, hurrying out of the room.
Bellatrix sauntered to Hermione and nudged her with the toe of her boot and growled, “I will take immense pleasure in torturing your parents, you Mudblood whore.”
“Bella.” Voldemort snapped. “You will wait. Do not touch her again unless I give the order to do so.”
Simpering, Bellatrix gave him a wide smile before stepping on Hermione’s hand “accidentally” before she moved away.
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Severus Snape, Death Eater, Potions Master at Hogwarts, didn’t want to be here. He had no choice but to answer the call when the Dark Lord summoned him.
He tried not to flinch as the sound of crunching bones and Hermione’s pained cry. He narrowed his eyes at Bella. Thank Salazar, for his Death Eater regalia. No one could see the sneer on his face directed towards the deranged woman.
Voldemort’s hiss of warning was a short reprieve for Hermione. At the sound from The Dark Lord’s throat, Bella stepped back.
When Severus arrived several days ago at Malfoy Manor, he had been shocked not only to see Hermione but also at the condition he had found her.
He had been ordered to heal her. For what? Just to be tortured yet again.
He, of course, tormented her for years while she was in Hogwarts, but that was before she started working with him in private for the past two years. It was all part of the ruse as a spy to display his displeasure.
He didn’t hate her. Her swotty attitude, he could understand. He didn’t suffer fools lightly, and she didn’t either. They were the same in that respect.
She didn’t deserve this.
His time spent with her in private, teaching potions, became the one bright spot in his otherwise miserable life. She was intelligent and able to keep up with him. She had matured over those years into a beautiful woman.
He knew he was treading on forbidden territory, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her as his own. Completely.
He knew that would never happen, no matter how much he desired her. His feelings for Lily were a pale comparison to what he felt for Hermione.
Now he was here watching as the girl turned into a young woman, and he had respect for being tortured for the past two days. She had vomited and pissed all over herself from the pain. The pain he knew well. He supposed it could have been worse for her, given the perversion Voldemort displayed during these rare moments of rivalry.
Small mercies.
He was not sure he could have stood by watching her being defiled.
His head turned as he watched Lucius’s confident steps towards Voldemort. Lucius handed him the new parchment. Voldemort reached out, snatching Lucius’s hand in his own, slicing Lucius’s hand, and hovering it over the new parchment.
A moment of silence.
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The parchment flared as names appeared. Everything revealed, Voldemort already knew about the Malfoy family.
Looking back at the parchment Hermione had bled on, his mind went back to when he disappeared the first time. Of course, he took the pleasures of the flesh. He had plenty of willing women to suit his needs when they arose. What he didn’t know was that he had a child with one of those women.
Hermione’s name appeared with her date of birth, and the faded names of two people he could not read; all he could make out was the word 'adopted'.
Hermione Jean Granger (adopted name): DOB: 19 September 1979
Father: Tom Marvolo Riddle DOB: 31 December 1926
Mother: Felicity Èmeline Rosier: DOB: 14 March 1959-
The lines ran down the page, revealing Voldemort’s heritage, as well as Felicity’s.
The date after Felicity's birth shimmered before his eyes. The numbers after were faded and didn't appear. Was she dead? How was it that this girl was his? Looking down at Hermione lying at his feet, it was hard to discern her looks, considering her face was swollen from the abuse.
He recognised the curls of hair; Felicity had the same wild curls, although they should be black.
When her eyes opened, looking up at Voldemort, he narrowed his own. Her eyes were the same shape as his. Whiskey-coloured met crimson before her eyes fluttered shut.
If she were indeed his daughter, she should have blue eyes. Both he and Felicity had blue eyes. Unless…. unless someone had cast a spell and had glamoured her. Whoever hid Hermione had hidden her well. There was one person who would want to hide her from him.
Albus Dumbledore.
Bellatrix raised her wand towards her, “Crucio.” A jet of red shot out from the end of her wand and hit Hermione in the back. Her back arched, and she let out a hoarse cry, her body jerking, trying to get away from the pain.
Voldemort’s head snapped up to look at Bellatrix. He stood; rage washed over him as he watched Bellatrix fire the curse. He told her not to touch Hermione until he gave the order.
His word was law. It was always law.
Raising his wand, he hissed back at her, a curse of his design in Parseltongue.
Bella’s wand clattered to the floor as her back arched crudely, and she let out a pained wail as she toppled to the floor. He stepped down from his dais as he released her from his spell and padded on quiet feet towards her.
He peered down at her, baring his yellowed teeth in a cruel grin as Bella twitched. She grunted as she moved to kiss the edge of his robe, a small whimper escaping her as her voice came out as a low croak.
“Now, Bella, is that any way to treat my daughter ? My heir?”
She peered up from beneath her lashes at him, her thin fingers gripping his robe. He shook her off and looked at his followers. Kicking her away from her, he spread his arms wide and walked to the top of Hermione’s head, his body turning towards the masses as he spoke, “My loyal friends, this girl, this friend of Harry Potter, is not what we were to believe. She’s someone who finally comes home to where she belongs. To me.”
He heard Bella move behind him. ‘“Avada Ke—.”
She didn’t finish; the words died in her throat as she pointed her wand at Hermione. Fury washed over him. Bellatrix was going to kill what was his. He could read the loathing in her mind that someone might usurp her as his favourite follower.
He couldn’t let that stand. Bellatrix needed to be punished.
Raising his wand, he hissed, “ Avada Kedavra .” A stream of green light exploded from the end of his wand, hitting Bellatrix in the chest, launching her back several feet, and landing on the floor with a dull thud. Her lifeless eyes were wide open.
He crouched down and picked up Hermione in his arms, avoiding the scent of vomit and urine as he clutched her limp body to his. Her head lulled to the side, her right arm flopping to the side, “Yes, she is mine and Felicity’s daughter. Now, I can claim my heir.”
There was a brief pause, and then his followers shuffled forward. Most of them would know not to touch her.
He looked around the room. “All of you leave, except the Malfoys and Severus.” He narrowed his eyes at Bellatrix. “Rodolphus, take your wife. Next time I give an order, I expect everyone to heed my warning.”
Two Death Eaters, each grabbing an arm of the dead Bellatrix, dragged her body behind them, the others following. When the last of them cleared the room, the door closed with a small ‘click’.
“Come, we have much to discuss regarding the girl.”
All of them followed Voldemort silently through the halls of the manor up the spiralling staircase towards the guest wing of the estate.
Entering his suite, Voldemort laid Hermione gently on the bed. He stepped away, looked over his shoulder, and said, “Severus, I want you to heal her again.”
Severus stepped forward, raising his wand, running a diagnostic spell. He flicked his wrist, summoning a parchment and quill to take down notes for him while his eyes scanned the runes that flashed before him.
Voldemort read the runes and frowned as the quill scratched against the parchment.
Dehydration, muscle fatigue, several small bones broken in her left hand, small lacerations on her body everywhere from the Cruciatus, the wound from Doloholv’s curse from before had opened again.
“Narcissa,” Voldemort called, beckoning her to sit with him near the fireplace. “You knew Felicity Rosier, did you not?”
Narcissa sat down elegantly in the chair, crossing her legs at her ankles. “Yes, My Lord. She…she was my best friend, a cousin.”
Leaning back, Voldemort steepled his fingers, “As her best friend, I assume you knew she was with child.”
“She informed me as such, sadly, she didn’t tell me who the father was. She disappeared just before she was to give birth, which was strange; she was so excited to have the child. She disappeared on her way there; she was ready to give birth.” She closed her eyes for a moment before looking into the fire. “I was to be the child’s godmother. I tried to find them, but she just up and vanished.”
“I see,” Voldemort nodded towards the bed. “The child was mine. She is mine.”
“My Lord?” Narcissa’s eyes widened following his eyes to the girl.
With a nod, he handed her the parchment. “Of course, I had no idea that Felicity was pregnant; if I had known, I would have ensured that the child was brought to me and taken care of.”
Voldemort waved his hand. A tumbler and a bottle of Firewhiskey flew over to him, sitting next to him with a dull thud. Pouring himself a shot, he downed it, looking over where Hermione lay.
He needed to formulate a plan. Hermione was on the wrong side of the war. He would ensure that his side would keep her from now on. Keep her safe from Albus.
“I would like for you, Lucius, to find out who her parents are and where they live. Go to the Ministry and get me her file. Everything is available on her.”
Lucius gave a short nod before turning to leave the room, his body moving stiffly.
Severus stepped over to Voldemort. “I shall return shortly. I need to get several healing potions for Miss Granger,” he said, handing him a small parchment. “These are the details of what I have found so far.”
Voldemort waved him away, “Go. Make sure you make haste and return as quickly as you can.”
Voldemort stood and walked over to Hermione, brushing a small curl from her face. “She looks a lot like her mother.”
Narcissa joined him at the bedside, “She does,” she said quietly. “Her curls especially.”
Voldemort grabbed Hermione’s hand, looking down at the scarred flesh, pulling it closer. He narrowed his eyes at the words that were engraved into her flesh. ‘I will respect my betters.’ He let out a slight hiss, lowering her hand gently back down.
“Ask a house-elf to help you, Narcissa. I want her cleaned up after Severus returns and heals her. I will discuss the matter of my daughter when I return.”
Once she was healed, he would check if she had been glamoured, hiding her appearance. First, he needed to get some of the answers to his questions.
Albus would pay for taking away what was his. He would make sure of it.
Chapter 2: Finding out the Truth
Chapter Text
“Severus, I want you to tell Dumbledore I have Hermione in my care,” Voldemort said, looking up from the desk. “Tell him I know everything concerning her upbringing. I suspect he had something to do with hiding her in a Muggle household. I can only assume he disposed of her mother afterwards.”
The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair, motioning to the file in front of him, “There are a great many things I still have to find out about her. This file contains basic information; she is supposed to be sixteen, but her magical age is nineteen. I'm sure the old fool has something to do with that. I need you to find out if you can.”
Severus raised his brow, “Nothing has been shared with me by Albus regarding Miss Granger’s age or her upbringing. It's been assumed that she was a brilliant Muggle-born student. Though she was an annoying little know-it-all when she first began attending Hogwarts, she has stopped trying to shove her intelligence in everyone’s faces.”
Voldemort let out a low hiss of displeasure, “Of course, he likes to keep all his pawns in line, we’re just one huge chess match to Albus. I’m sure she is part of his plans as well, but I don’t know in what capacity. You told me she has been working with you in private on advanced potions. Why would Dumbledore have her learn so much if she were just a pawn? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes. I’ve also heard from Poppy Pomfrey that she is learning advanced healing techniques, as well.” Snape said.
“I’m sure it’s all to assist Potter in my defeat,” Voldemort said dryly.
Severus gave a short nod.
“You can let Dumbledore know I will allow Hermione to return to the school eventually, but under certain conditions. We’ll go over those later. Now, tell me about this Ministry lackey, Umbridge, was that her name? I heard rumours that my daughter lured her out to the Forbidden Forest and allowed the centaurs to capture her? Why?”
Severus let out a small chuckle, shaking his head, “Yes, she was sent in by Fudge to find out if Albus was planning on taking over the Ministry. She was interrogating Potter and other students, including Miss Granger, and wanted me to give her more Veritaserum to get the answers she sought. Apparently, Miss Granger told her they had a secret weapon in the Forbidden Forest and offered to take her there.”
“How very Slytherin of her,” Voldemort smiled grotesquely.
“Indeed,” Severus agreed.
“Did you happen to see the small scar on Hermione’s hand that resembled a sentence? Tell me, did this Umbridge person use a Black Quill on her?”
“Yes, it was her favourite form of punishment for whoever spoke out of turn. She would have them write lines with it until it disfigured their hand. I tried to heal her hand the best I could when I found out, but as you know, a quill of that nature is imbued with dark magic, so there was little I could do.”
The Dark Lord hummed in the back of his throat, “I’ll deal with her later. She is back at the ministry now, or at least she will be once released from St Mungo’s. I wonder if I could recruit her. Just as a means of keeping an eye on her activities. It would also make it easy to summon her to come to me.”
Voldemort sat back in his chair and rubbed at what would have been the bridge of his nose, “Keep an eye out, Severus. See what you can find out from Albus and his plans for Hermione. I’m positive that she is my daughter. If the legitimacy paper wasn’t enough, the removal of her glamour provides further proof that he is one of the few I know who is capable of long-term, semi-permanent glamours. My question is, to what end? Be sure to get enough out of Albus without tipping our hand.”
“As you wish,” Severus bowed before turning and leaving the room. He was stopped before he made his escape.
“Oh, and Severus? Be sure you bring the potion you’ve been working on for me. I’d like to see if it works. With everything that has happened, I have an idea of what the missing ingredient is.” The Dark Lord then waved his hand, dismissing Severus once again.
Giving a curt nod, he left without a backwards glance.
Voldemort stared off into space after Severus had left. He was sure there would be an Order meeting once Severus returned. He knew Severus could speak to Dumbledore while in the meeting. The barmy old pouffe thought he was the ultimate puppet master. He wouldn’t put it past the man to try to place Hermione in hiding again. But then again, he might not. It was more likely that Dumbledore would try to use Hermione’s newly found familial connection to manipulate the players on the board. It was a good thing that Severus’ duplicity came in handy to him in fighting this war.
He knew that Severus sometimes felt conflicted about this war. He could understand that, but what Voldemort wanted was a pure world, one that was not infected with Albus Dumbledore.
To him, there was no Dark and Light. There was only grey. Albus drove fear into people. The fear had served him well when creating his puppets to serve the light, or as he was so fond of telling everyone, the Greater Good.
Albus’s about-face was amusing to Voldemort in a way. There was a time when Albus himself made a blood pact with Gellert Grindelwald to find the Deathly Hallows in hopes of ending the International Statute of Secrecy. A fool’s errand. While he agreed that muggles posed a threat that needed to be dealt with, his idea of a perfect world was far different from Dumbledore’s ideals.
Muggles did pose a threat; they were lesser creatures to him, easy to dispose of. Same with Mudbloods. They entered the magical world, sharing that knowledge with Muggles. Once Muggles learned of their existence, he knew that Muggles would want to gather up witches and wizards like chattel, using them for their purposes. He needed to strike first, installing fear into them.
Tugging the drawer of his desk, he pulled out Hermione’s wand. Plucking it out, he studied it. It was fine craftsmanship, delicate-looking, just like she was. Looking down at her file, a small reading about her wand brought a small grin to his lips. ‘A dragon heartstring core.’
It was a well-known fact that dragon heartstring wands were among the most powerful when wielded by the correct person, capable of a great many things. They were also known to easily turn to the Dark Arts. How highly fortunate for him. He would work with her once she was healed.
Placing the wand back in the drawer, he clicked it shut. He needed to check on Hermione to see how she was healing. He had done damage to her himself, tearing through her mind, trying to gain the answers he needed. Her walls held well against his Legilimency, which had surprised him. Now, he understood. He was sure that she was his child, and Albus had known that he would teach her Occlumency. It had to be Albus. It was a difficult skill to learn; very few knew how to learn either. Knowing that she at least possessed some Occlumency proved to him that she was indeed his.
Entering the bedroom where Hermione was resting, he looked towards the bed where she lay. Narcissa sat in a chair in front of the fire, reading a book. He had moved Hermione once her initial healing was done to a room next to his so he could at least be closer to her. She was like a new prize for him in that aspect. A trophy that he wanted to lock away. Not that he would, she would, in time, come to his side of things.
He wouldn’t let her see him right now, knowing she feared him. The last time she saw him, he had tortured her relentlessly. The potion that he asked Severus for would, with any luck, change his appearance back to the way it should be when he started splitting his soul, taking on this appearance. Not that he was opposed to the way he looked, it helped drive fear into those around him. He wanted to finally make the change to blend in when going to the ministry, but now there was another reason for it. It was for her.
The potion in question was something Severus had been working on for months, but it was not quite correct. Each time he took the potion, his appearance would flicker only briefly. Something was missing from it that neither he nor Severus could find; now he had an idea of what that missing ingredient might be. If the potion were ever perfected, it would also get rid of all the ill effects that he had been the product of the Love Potion. He would be able to feel each emotion, not that he particularly needed or wanted to; he was a fine actor as it was, and he was simply curious.
“How is she today?” he asked.
“She is still healing but improving a bit. Severus gave her some dreamless sleep so she would hold still.” Narcissa stood sauntering to the bed standing next to The Dark Lord.
Voldemort tugged her sheet down from her chest, letting it rest on her hips. Lifting her shirt slightly, he checked to see how the dark curse that Dolohov had hit her with. His finger traced the dark purple line from just under her breast, down to her right hip, frowning. He set her to rights, not wanting to look at the damage anymore. She would have that scar forever.
“How is she when she wakes? Has she said anything?”
Narcissa frowned, “She is a bit confused, but Severus said it was due to her seizures.”
“She’s having seizures?” his eyes widened a bit hearing that news. Sure, he ripped through her mind, but he didn’t think he had done that much damage to her.
“She has several a day, which is why Severus gave her dreamless sleep. She also has a challenging time speaking due to her voice being damaged.”
Letting a long breath, Voldemort nodded, “Nagini,” he called. His familiar slithered through the door, moving towards the bed. He stroked her head briefly, looking over at Hermione. “I need you to rest with this little one, she’s mine,” he explained, “Let no one come in here other than the Malfoys and Severus.”
Nagini nodded her head before slithering up on the bed, coiling her body around Hermione’s, her head resting on the pillow next to Hermione.
“I will be back shortly; I need to run an errand.” With that, he left Hermione in Narcissa’s care. He knew that Narcissa would be the best choice for the task. She was Hermione’s godmother, technically and seemed overjoyed to have her there at the estate with her. Today, he would ensure everything was in order so that Hermione would be permanently staying with him.
Grabbing a small vial of Polyjuice potion, which he had prepared for emergencies, he left the estate, making his way to Hampstead Garden Suburb to pay a visit to Hermione’s adopted parents. He wanted to see for himself if they had known that Hermione was not their own.
Apparating silently near the edge of the church at the end of the street, Voldemort pulled his cloak over his head, hiding his face as he made his way towards the small row of houses, dotted with white picket fences and flowers blooming at their peak, a picture of the perfect Muggle community. He hated it. Muggles were disgusting creatures in their habits and appearance, having no semblance of decorum at all.
There in the driveway was a modest car, so he assumed they were in; he was in luck. He thought they would be considering it today, as it was Saturday. Downing the potion, he shivered as his features morphed into those of Lucius Malfoy. Lowering his hood, he brushed his now long blond locks over his shoulder, and he lifted his hand, knocking on the door.
The door opened, and a middle-aged, balding man stood there. “May I help you?”
Voldemort gave him a pleasant smile, “Yes, sir. I am here about your daughter, Hermione.”
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Landing outside of Hogwarts, Severus made his way to his chambers, his thoughts on the small woman at Malfoy's estate. She had been at the Manor for a week now and was still recovering. He was worried about her recovery; he knew he couldn’t stay by her side like he wished to ensure she made a full recovery, which was left to Narcissa, whom he trusted. The woman in question was now having seizures from the brutality of the curses she had endured and the barbarity he had to bear witness to.
Narcissa wrote him daily, giving him an update on Hermione’s progress, of course, but it wasn’t the same. The letters he received had him worried. Hermione was never known for being quiet; she often would speak her mind, something he privately enjoyed.
What concerned him was that Hermione was not speaking only with laconic responses. She looked at everyone with a guarded expression, speaking in a whisper when answering. He knew it was due to her vocal cords being damaged from her screaming; there was nothing he could do to repair them. In time, they would see the extent of the damage, whether it was permanent or not.
He was glad the deranged bitch Bellatrix was dead. When Voldemort killed her, it sent a ripple of healthy fear into his followers. If someone as devoted as she was was dead. No one was safe from Voldemort’s wrath, that was certain.
“Severus, do you have a moment?” Albus popped up in front of Snape, startling him from his introspection.
He narrowed his eyes slightly at the headmaster before following the man. When he entered Dumbledore’s office, he was somewhat surprised to see Potter, Wesley, and several other Order members already there. It was a good thing that Umbridge was no longer stalking the halls right now. He was sure she would find a way to enter the office and demand an explanation for what was happening.
He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, looking around the room. “I see we are having a meeting early,” he drawled.
“I was curious if you had any news about Miss Granger,” Albus said, sitting behind his desk, flicking his wrist, putting up a silencing charm so the nosey portraits in the room could not hear what was being said. Severus raised a brow at the man to continue. “Have you been able to see her yet?”
He had told Albus where Hermione was, of course; he hoped they would come up with a plan to retrieve her. However, as the week passed, he knew something was amiss with the whole situation. Albus was content just to leave her there, not even asking for an update on her condition until today. He never trusted Albus completely. He could see now his concern was just for show.
Shoving off the wall, Severus lowered his arms to his side, “She is with her father,” he said, intentionally leaving out the information about who her father was. He wanted to see for himself if Albus knew.
“Oh, that is unfortunate,” Albus sighed. “I was afraid of that. I hoped he wouldn’t find out.”
“You knew!” he hissed. “You knew who she was but did nothing to protect her!” he summoned his inner strength, his face smoothed over as he studied Dumbledore. His heart hammered in his chest, but on the outside, he wore the bored expression he usually did. He didn't need Albus to know that he was concerned for the girl.
Harry looked between the two, his brow furrowed. “Excuse me, Professor,” he said, looking at Severus. “Can you please tell us what is going on? Is Hermione alright? Did she go home?”
“No. Mr Potter, I can assure you Hermione is not alright. She is with Voldemort right now.”
“What?” Molly Wesley screeched. “Albus, we need to get her!”
Albus shook his head, “I am afraid that is impossible, Molly.”
“Why?” Harry asked. “I am sure Professor Snape can get her out,” he said, his voice raised slightly. “You could do that, right?” his eyes met with Snape’s, begging him.
“No. I can’t. Not unless you wish for me to die in the process.” Severus informed him. “What you don’t understand, Potter, is that Miss Granger, or should I say, Miss. Riddle is Voldemort’s daughter. There’s nothing legally we can do.”
“Sweet, Merlin,” Sirius muttered, running his hands through his hair. “Will he let her go?”
Severus scoffed, “Not yet, she will be with him…permanently. He’ll ensure that.”
“She can stay with me,” Sirius said. “She and Harry could stay at Grimmauld place, we can put her in hiding until this is all over.”
"You are still a wanted man, Sirius," Albus said. "They wouldn't be safe with you."
“With the way things are, the Ministry, I don’t think that is a possibility either,” Arthur said. “The Minister will see who she is, and even if we try to get to her, You-Know-Who has people already with Ministry walls. Even if he cannot come out and claim her outright, he will place her with someone who’s decidedly on his side.”
“You mean a Death Eater?” Molly hissed.
“We could’ve avoided this, Albus, if you’d shared her heritage with us,” Severus said in a dark tone. “Now you put her at risk, being who she is. We could have put safety measures in place for her, and now he has her. You know how Potter feels about the girl,” he paused for a moment, letting that sink in. “He said he’ll allow her to return to Hogwarts, but not until he has some safeguards in place first. What that will entail, I have no idea.”
“I understand,” Albus waved his hand in the air. “She can pass the information on to us on what she learns while she’s there, Severus. Do you think she would be willing to continue to help the Order when she eventually returns?”
“Do you NOT understand what I am telling you?” Snape snapped at him. “The girl is still recovering from her nearly deadly injuries. She’s surrounded by Death Eaters all day. She’s his daughter. Do you honestly think that would work? That he wouldn't know if she tried, that in doing so would put her at greater risk? That he’d share any plans with her?”
“She can’t be trusted anymore,” Mad-Eye said, slamming his cane on the ground. “We need to cut our losses.”
“This is Hermione we are talking about,” Harry growled. “Hermione, the only one I might add who has never betrayed me, who has never left my side once,” he glared over at Ron who sunk deeper into his chair. “We need to get her back before he does anything to her.”
“I think Mad-Eye is right,” Ron mumbled. “She’s his daughter. We can’t trust her.”
“Un-fucking-believable.” Harry hissed as he stood, knocking his chair back, storming out of the room. Severus watched him, surprised by his outburst, not that he could blame him. He wanted to throttle Albus right now with those damn twinkling eyes and the serene fucking smile on his face, like this whole ordeal with Hermione being with Death Eaters was just a tiny bump in the road. He had to rethink his loyalties to this man seriously. Maybe The Dark Lord was correct in thinking that Albus was the problem, creating sheep for the slaughter.
“Speak to Miss Granger if you can, Severus. Perhaps we can use the information she gleams for us to help us win this. We’ll see in time if her information is correct and she can be trusted once she returns to Hogwarts. She could be of wonderful use for us, being by his side,” Albus smiled up at him like Potter leaving in a huff was no issue. Why should Albus care about Potter anyway? He was being fattened up to slaughter as well. 'Just like I am, like we all are.'
Severus closed his eyes, reigning in his temper, “For the Greater Good, right?” he seethed, leaving the room before he hexed the man.
He knew that Voldemort wouldn't harm Hermione, for that he was grateful. It would be a tremendous loss to him personally if she were dead. He knew that his feelings for the girl bordered on inappropriate, considering she was a student, but he was besotted with her. Completely so.
Per Albus’ request, he had been teaching Hermione intricate potions for the past two years on his off-hours. At first, he had been furious that she’d been shoved at him to guide. He was pleasantly surprised when she took what he’d offered her seriously, not throwing a fit like her classmates, or should he say, fellow Gryffindors tended to do when things didn’t go their way.
He let out a silent chuckle, believing the girl had been sorted into the wrong house. She should’ve been Slytherin, especially when she led Umbridge to the Forbidden Forest, having the centaurs deal with the insipid woman. A Slytherin move. She was calculating, always planning her moves, and when she couldn’t, she used her intelligence to get what she wanted, as she did with Umbridge.
Of course, he had to admit that she was brave and loyal, but she had more traits of his house the more he spent time with her. Now he knew why. She was the descendant of Slytherin himself.
Entering his chambers, he removed his frock coat and collapsed into the wingback chair near the fire, sinking his large frame further into the seat as he tried to relax. ‘Only a few more days and I can see her again. I can make sure she is well.’
Pouring himself a generous amount of Firewhiskey, he downed it in hopes he would be able to sleep tonight and not have his dreams haunted once again by Hermione on the floor, screaming in pain.
Chapter Text
Harry sat at the edge of Black Lake, picking up small stones, skipping them across the lake, trying to get his mind to calm down. His issue with Ron had not been settled since learning that Hermione was with Voldemort, not only that, but she was his daughter. That was close to a week ago.
Ron seemed content to wash his hands of Hermione, but Harry just couldn’t do that. She was the only one who had stood by his side without wavering. He loved her. She was his sister, not in blood, but where it matters, in his heart. He would do anything to make sure she returned to him safely.
He left the common room when Ron started playing tonsil hockey with Lavender Brown. He had had enough of Ron’s attitude. People don’t abandon people they love; they abandon people they were using. It was clear to him now that Ron was using Hermione for her willingness to help him with all his classes, and he was using Harry because he was the Boy Who Lived.
Git.
He was having a hard time reconciling several things that happened. Ron, being a git of course, although he shouldn’t be all that surprised with it. The second was Professor Dumbledore, content with leaving Hermione where she is. Not only that, he suggested using her as a spy.
He was already having doubts when it came to Dumbledore. He all but ignored him this year. He explained he didn’t want to cause Harry any more problems. He had more than enough problems with Umbitch, making it her personal mission to discredit him, not to mention torture him with that damn Black Quill. He now wondered if he could truly trust his professor. He would have to think about that over the summer.
Sadly, he couldn’t live with Sirius, according to Dumbledore, because the Ministry still wanted Sirius. He didn’t believe that was the only reason. Grimmauld Place was under a charm that kept unwanted people out, so why did he insist on going back to the Dursleys, where he was made into nothing but a slave and abused?
He needed Hermione back here so he could speak to her about everything. She usually led him the right way; she was his only true ally in all this mess.
“Hello, Harry Potter.”
Startled, Harry twisted his body, offering a small smile to Luna Lovegood, who stood behind him with her pants rolled up to the knees. She kicked off her shoes, padding towards the edge of the lake. “Hello, Luna.”
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” she asked, dipping her toe into the water.
“I just needed to think, ya know. Away from others.”
Nodding her head, she tilted her head back, basking in the sun’s warm rays. “Things will be alright. Hermione will come back to us.”
“You know about Hermione? Did you hear where she is and who she is with?”
Luna looked over at him, her large doe eyes twinkling, “Yes, I know. I heard someone talking about it.” She smiled, coming to sit next to him on the large boulder where he had settled. “I had suspected for some time that she was hiding who she really was.”
Harry raised a brow at her, “Her aura was off,” she said. “When looking at her, you could see that there was someone underneath. When she comes back, she will look different, but she will still be our Hermione.”
Harry nodded his head, looking back over at the lake. It was always this way with Luna. She spoke in riddles most of the time, but the more he talked to her, the more he realised just how wise she really was. She didn’t care what others thought about her; she just was who she wanted to be. No expectations. He respected that about her.
“I just want her back here with me, with us. I miss her,” he said, grasping the rock in his hand. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface over and over again, but it did nothing to calm his fear and worry.
“Yes, there are many here who miss her light. That is what Hermione is, light. The darkness always craves the light, which is why people are drawn to her. She helps many who are here. Did you know that she helps many others from different houses who need it? I watched her one day at the library. There were a couple of young Slytherins who were struggling with their potions essay. She went and grabbed several books from the shelves, placing them in front of them, tapping the book telling them which page they would find the answers they needed.”
“I didn’t know that,” Harry whispered.
Luna hummed lightly, looking out across the lake. “She is a rare being,” Luna said. “She doesn’t see people by the houses they are in, she just sees them.”
Harry let out a small chuckle, shaking his head, “I guess you’re right. She has always been the champion for the lost, hasn’t she?”
“I think that now that she can be herself, things will become better. As I said, the darkness craves the light. She could be the change. Not everyone good is on the good side, and those who are evil are not always as they seem.”
“You mean Voldemort?”
Luna nodded her head, looking over at him, “That is one example. Just trust Hermione.” Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his briefly before standing up, slipping on her shoe, and walking towards the castle.
Harry’s mouth hung open for a few moments before he snapped it shut, shocked that Luna had kissed him like she had done it before. Taking a deep breath, he tossed the rock he was holding into the lake. He needed to see Professor Snape. He would know how Hermione was and whether she was going to return to them anytime soon.
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Knocking lightly on Snape’s office door, Harry held his breath, hoping that he was in. It was Saturday, and it wasn’t office hours.
He was startled when the door swung open on its own. Snape was sitting at his desk with a stack of parchment in front of him, his quill held in his hand. ‘ Grading papers, shite. He is always in a foul mood when grading. ’ Harry thought, swallowing hard before entering the room slowly. He jumped slightly when the door slammed shut behind him.
“Professor, I was hoping I could speak to you about Hermione.”
Snape set his quill down, leaning back in his chair, waving his hand towards the seats in front of his desk. Harry shuffled forward, perched on the edge of one of the seats in case he had to make a run for it. Snape was known for losing his temper, cutting you down with words.
“Well?” Snape drawled. “You came to me, Mr Potter. What is it you wish to discuss concerning Miss Granger?”
“How is she? Will she be back soon?”
Snape raised a brow before letting out a small huff, leaning forward, “Miss. Granger is still recovering from her injuries. I am sure she will return to Hogwarts when she is stable. She is not in any danger where she is.”
Harry clenched his fists, looking down at the stone flooring, “Is it true? Is she really…is he her father?”
Snape was quiet for a moment. When he didn’t answer right away, Harry looked up. Snape’s eyes bore into his slightly narrowing, “It is true. If you wish to know more details about her situation and help her, I suggest learning Occlumency like you were ordered to before.”
“I’ll do it,” Harry said quickly. “I will do whatever I need to do for her. I love her; she needs to come back,” Harry saw Snape stiffen with his declaration. He raised his hands, shaking his head. “Not like that, I love her like a sister. She is…she is my family,” he explained.
Far too many people thought that Harry fancied Hermione, thinking that she did him, especially after what Rita Skeeter had written.
Snape stood motioning for Harry to follow him. They entered a side room, the room they used once before when Snape tried to teach him. Whirling around, Snape pinned him with a glare. “I will teach you only if you are willing to learn, Potter. Do. Not,” he growled. “Enter my thoughts again, or I will not help you.”
“I understand, Professor,” Harry said.
“Sit there and let’s begin.” Snape pointed to a chair and went to the small workstation to prepare.
Harry looked up with Snape right in front of him, his wand raised, not giving him a moment to think of anything else but Hermione. “Legilimens.”
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Snape sat in his usual wingback chair, cradling a tumble of Firewhiskey to his chest, reviewing the events of the day.
Potter had surprised him with the effort he put forth in learning Occlumency. He was far from perfect, but he did improve slightly just with that one lesson, which they spent four hours on. He was content with the memories of Hermione that Potter had. He was telling the truth. He loves her as a friend, a sister, nothing more.
Why this was such a relief to Snape, he didn’t want to think too much about. It shouldn’t matter to him who fancied Hermione, but for some reason, it did.
With a huff, he thought of something else. He provided Harry with a schedule to work from, along with several books to read on the subject, to help him learn.
It would be beneficial for Hermione if Harry did succeed in learning. She could be sure whatever she told Harry would remain hidden, especially from Dumbledore.
He still didn’t trust the man, honestly, he never did.
If Potter could learn Occlumency, then Snape himself could divulge several things to him. Potter was clueless, not knowing he was being fattened up for slaughter. He would do what he could to keep that from happening. Lily was his first friend, his best friend. He would protect her son from Dumbledore’s machinations. This was just the first step in doing so.
He knew he had a part to play in Lily’s death. Dumbledore ensured that Snape informed Voldemort about the prophecy.
Dumbledore had promised him he would keep her safe. He didn’t fail at the task; he lied. Dumbledore knew that Pettigrew was a secret Death Eater and made him Lily’s and Potter’s secret keeper. It was intentional.
It wasn’t that they trusted the wrong people; they were set up. The more he thought about the events, he came to believe it was Dumbledore who set this all in motion. He wanted Voldemort defeated, no matter the cost. That was why he wanted Voldemort to know of the prophecy, why he made Pettigrew the Potter’s secret keeper.
Everyone was expendable, it was for the Greater Good, so why not? Snape would not sit idly by any longer. He had been a spy long enough to know how to play the game, and he would beat Dumbledore at his own game, saving many in the process.
He had something to protect now.
Hermione.
He wouldn’t trust Albus Iwillfuckyouover Dumbledore to do so. No. He wouldn’t chance it. He had already lost Lily to death; he wouldn’t accept it if Hermione were lost as well, not when he could do something to prevent it. He would have to wait and see how things played out, but he was done being a pawn.
“Greater Good, my arse.” He mumbled, downing his drink, slamming the tumbler down on the side table. He needed a good night’s rest so he could start making his own plans.
Chapter 4: Is this Reality?
Chapter Text
Lucius tightened his grip on Hermione’s hand that clutched his arm. Narcissa flanked Hermione’s other side as they walked down the centre of Diagon Alley. He could feel her tremble under his hand, “No one is going to harm you, girl,” he said.
Walking up the steps of Gringotts, Lucius waved his hand, and the doors creaked open, allowing the three of them inside.
Hermione cringed when she caught her reflection in the gleaming metal. Her hair was raven black, and dark curls tumbled down her back. She had woken up three days ago after a house-elf came to assist her in bathing. She let out a shriek when she looked in the mirror, not recognising herself. Her hair still had curls, yes, but the colour was all wrong, and her eyes were the most drastic of the changes. They were a deep blue. Her features were slightly different, more defined.
She still felt like Hermione Granger for the most part. Her mind was still slightly muddled, but each day she was feeling slightly better.
She should, considering the number of potions she downed each morning and night.
She asked Narcissa why they had put glamours on her while she was at the Manor. No one was coming for her, she knew. She had been there long enough, so she gave up hope. She had no idea how long she had been with the Malfoys, but it was more than a week, she was sure, possibly two.
Narcissa gave her a sad smile, cupping her cheek affectionately for a moment, “Everything will be explained to you soon, Love. Do not fret. No one will harm you anymore.”
Knowing she had to save her strength, Hermione simply nodded in agreement before letting the matter drop.
Striding purposely, Lucius led Hermione to the counter at the end, “We're here to open Ms Rosier’s vault.”
The goblin raised a brow, looking down his long nose at the three of them, “The Rosier family is extinct,” he said matter-of-factly.
Lucius handed the goblin a piece of parchment, raising his chin. “As you can see, they're not.”
Scanning the missive, the goblin narrowed his eyes slightly at Hermione. “Very well, follow me.”
Hermione took a steadying breath as they made their way into the depths of the bank. This was her first time in one of the rickety carts that barrelled down further into the darkness, the only light was the torches that were embedded into the stone.
Once they reached the bottom, they each stepped out swiftly from the small cart standing before a large ornate door. Turning her head, she looked around for a moment, frowning when she spotted a large white dragon in the middle, surrounded by large pillars.
The dragon was white, shifting his massive body, swaying from side to side. He tilted his head up, letting out a single roar before he bowed his head once again. He was unable to move much due to the thick chains that held him in place. Her heart broke as she watched the poor creature.
She was about to comment, looking back at Narcissa, when the goblin let out a small grunt, looking over his shoulder, giving her a dirty look, “If you are not related to the Rosier family, girl, you will not be able to open the vault, and you will forfeit your life.”
“I understand,” she said in a whisper.
“Then give me your hand.”
The goblin snatched her outstretched hand, slicing her palm open without any preamble, placing her hand forcefully on the door, and jumping away from her.
The tumblers in the door clicked several times before the door popped open. The goblin shook his head, grabbed the edge of the door, and heaved it open.
Hermione peered down at the goblin, raising a brow before she looked inside. Her breath was stolen from her lungs at what she found.
Mounds and mounds of gold, jewels, paintings, and furniture were crammed inside. The vault was so deep she couldn’t see the back. She looked over at Narcissa, who merely nodded her head.
Stepping carefully inside, she waited for instructions. She had no idea why she was here. Narcissa handed her a velvet pouch, giving her a small smile, “Take this and fill it with gold. You may look around if you wish. This is all yours after all.”
“Mine?”
“Why yes, my dear. You're the last in the line of Rosier’s. Everything here is yours.”
Looking around once again, Hermione stepped forward with a shaking hand, scooping up galleons and placing them inside the pouch.
Once she finished, she headed back to Narcissa, trying to hand it back to her. Narcissa shook her head, offering her a smile, grabbed her hand and led her out, “That is for you when you go back to school, dear.”
Once they were out of the bank, Lucius placed her arm in the crook of his own, “That answers that question then,” he looked down at Hermione, giving her a chuckle. “The goblin was correct; if you weren't a Rosier, you would've died. A blood lock handles that vault; unless you permit someone else to open it, it'll only open to the blood that runs in your veins.”
“I still don’t understand. Who are my parents? They're muggles, or so they said they were,” Hermione rasped, her doe-like eyes blinking up at him.
Lucius frowned down at her, squeezing her hand slightly that rested on his arm, “Not to worry, I'm sure the answers you seek will be given to you once you are fully healed.”
“Can I…can I go see my mother and father? William and Jean Granger, or back to Hogwarts? I just want to go home. I'm sure they will be able to explain everything to me.”
“No. Not yet. You're still healing, my little one,” Narcissa said, wrapping her arm lightly around her waist as they walked. “You are still having seizures now and then, and, well, your voice is still too weak. It is best that you stay with us until you receive the answers you seek. I am sure your...parents wouldn't have access to the potions you need.”
“I understand,” Hermione said.
But she didn’t.
She oddly felt like she was in a dream—a strange one at that. Lucius and Narcissa were being extremely kind to her. She slept in a beautiful room each night, and Professor Snape came to speak to her, checking on her injuries and being nice, of all things.
Yes, she had a tentative relationship with her snarky Potion’s Professor, but he was usually abrupt with her. She knew that he was a private man, so she never pressed for anything more than his assistance when learning several different potions and how to identify herbs, where they grew, etc.
Some days were better than others when she spent time with him. She never knew which side of Professor Snape she would encounter when meeting with him.
She hated the fact that her friends, Ron, and Harry always had cruel comments about him. She didn’t view him as Ron loved to call him, ‘ a greasy git ’.
He was intelligent and deemed her worthy enough to share that knowledge with her. Of course, they didn’t know that. No one was to know he was instructing her per Professor Dumbledore’s request.
No. This was not real. She must have bumped her head while being with Harry to save Sirius. Otherwise, if she were in the care of the Malfoys, she would still be in the dungeon that Bellatrix had dragged her from, and she had not seen that person since she pulled her up those stairs. And she is most certainly not Rosier.
She was Hermione Jean Granger, Muggleborn.
She knew her father’s aversion to anything magical, so it didn’t make sense to her that she was from a magical family, unless it was her mother who was a witch. She doubted that very much; if she were, she was sure her mother would have hexed her father already for the heavy hand he used with both.
She had reasoned with herself to go with the flow of events now until she could discern if this were her reality or not. There was no need to panic and make things worse for herself. She would eventually get the answers she was sure of, or at least that is what Lucius said.
She would wake up soon, and she would be back at Hogwarts or St. Mungo’s, recovering. Whatever spell she was hit with during the battle must have done something to her mind as well, keeping her mind locked up. If this were her reality, she would deal with that when the time came.
They apparated back to the Malfoy estate, Lucius leading them up the drive. Hermione looked around with interest, welcoming the beautiful view of the house. White peacocks strutted around the yard pecking at the ground without a care in the world.
“They're beautiful,” she murmured.
“What? The peacocks?” Lucius asked, following her line of sight. He gave her a bright smile, chuckling slightly as he turned forward once again, “Yes, they are. They can be quite nasty when approached; be mindful of that.”
“Yes, sir.”
Entering the house, Lucius kissed Narcissa on the cheek and paused, looking down at Hermion,e who watched her intently for a few moments. He leaned forward slightly, causing her to flinch. He kissed her forehead, offering her a small smile. “I have work to do. I'll see you at dinner,” he turned and vanished down the hallway.
“Come, let us have some tea in the garden. The fresh air will do you some good,” Narcissa clasped Hermione’s hand, leading her through the drawing-room out the large French doors that stood open.
After sipping tea, Hermione looked out across the vast yard of the garden, enjoying the slight spring breeze that brushed against her. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, savouring the sweet scents of the flowers.
“How are you feeling today?” Narcissa asked, setting her teacup down on the saucer without making any sound, something Hermione had yet to master.
Hermione looked over at her, “Honestly, I'm still trying to decide if this is real or not. I remember bits and pieces of the battle in the Department of Mysteries and being struck by…something. Everything after that was a blur. I often wonder, am I still unconscious? If I am, where am I really?”
“You're awake, my dear,” Narcissa said with sympathy. “You'll learn everything. Once you feel better, I'd be more than happy to speak to you about any questions you may have.”
“I'm sure I'll have plenty of questions if what you say is true,” she said dryly. “I'm still in favour of thinking this is a dream.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, for one, and I mean no offence by saying this, but Mr Malfoy was never one to offer a kind word to me before. He did try to hex me before in the Department of Mysteries, so there is that.”
Narcissa raised her brow at that information. “And the other reason?”
“Professor Snape has been nice to me whenever I see him. It’s odd because he always called me an insufferable-know-it-all even when I was working privately with him with potions or even in the classroom.”
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“That’s because you are,” a voice drawled from behind them.
Hermione let out a startled wheeze, turning in her seat to see Professor Snape leaning against the doorway in all his resplendent glory,
“P-Professor.”
He shoved himself off the door, sauntering forward, taking a seat next to Hermione. His lips quirked up seeing her blush deepen as she met his eyes, “Surely, Miss. Granger, I am not that bad to you?”
“N-no, no of course not!” she said. “It’s just…I don’t…” she twisted her hands in her lap, looking down, trying to get her brain to function.
“Severus, stop teasing the poor girl.” Narcissa chastised him lightly.
“Oh, but I do enjoy it. To see her speechless is a rare sight, Cissa, you must understand.” He waved Narcissa off, giving her a small chuckle as he looked back at Hermione, “I came to check that you're healing well. I've brought your weekly potions, but I wanted to check to confirm you were still in need of some of them.”
“I’m fine,” Hermione lied, looking up at him.
He raised a brow, “Lying is not doing you any favours. Now, tell me, do you still have headaches?”
She nodded once.
“Seizures?”
Hermione looked over at Narcissa and back at Snape, “Not as many.”
Narcissa took this opportunity to speak, “She is having one at least once a day, mostly in the evening if she has overexerted herself.”
“Continue her regimen if something drastic changes, let me know. I also brought some dreamless sleep if she should need it,” he said. “I'm certain you will be able to return to Hogwarts soon.”
He wanted to share with her the concern that Potter had for her, but he didn’t want to upset her unnecessarily. She would see him soon enough. He had been working with Potter for a week now and was improving significantly; he might even be proficient enough at Occlumency by the time she returned. That was his plan anyway.
He offered an apologetic smile, “Miss Granger, I will need a few drops of your blood.”
Hermione shifted back, paling slightly.
“It's not for anything nefarious, I can assure you. It would help me a great deal.”
He leaned forward, grabbing her wrist, rubbing his thumb over it. His lips tugged at the corners when he felt her heartbeat hammering in her chest.
He met her eyes, noticing how large they were, her pupils dilated, not of fear…but something else he was sure.
‘I will think about that later.’
“Breath, Hermione,” he whispered.
Her breath hitched slightly, her blush deepening. He bowed his head over her hand, slicing it just enough to collect what he needed, corking the vial once he was done.
Standing Snape looked down at Hermione, patting her on the head gently, his knuckles brushing her heated cheek as he did, “I'll come to check on you in a few days.”
And he left.
“Now I know I'm dreaming,” Hermione said, lifting her hands to her face.
Snape looked over his shoulder, grinning as he caught sight of her bright blush.
‘There is hope yet.’
Narcissa’s tinkling laughter echoed around the garden as he left to find the Dark Lord.
Knocking on the large, ornate double door, Severus opened it when he heard the muffled voice telling him to enter.
Voldemort was sitting behind the desk, Lucius sitting in one of the chairs in front, looking back as Snape closed the door quietly.
“Ah, Severus. How did your meeting go with Dumbledore? I haven’t had a chance to ask you?”
Snape sat in the other chair, looking up at Voldemort, “It is as you suspected. He already knew you had her, and who she was to you.”
Leaning back in his chair, Voldemort’s hand came up, stroking Nagini’s head, “Did he ask you to rescue her?”
Snape snorted, “No, it was actually Potter who begged me to find her a way out.”
“Admirable,” Voldemort chuckled. “And the others that were there?”
“Mad-eye believes she cannot be trusted any longer, and a few disagree. It appears that Potter and the mutt, Sirius, are the only ones who genuinely care if the girl is brought back to them. Of course, Molly was horrified that Death Eaters surrounded her, as she calls us, thinking that she is being violated, I'm sure.”
“What an active imagination,” he mused.
“There is something else,” Snape paused, bracing himself.
He knew once he crossed this line, he would become deeper involved with the Dark Lord. Of course, it was known that Dumbledore wanted him to spy for him by Voldemort, so maybe he wouldn’t think too much into this piece of information. He needed to protect Hermione.
“He asked me to see if she could be used to spy for him.”
Voldemort hissed, slamming his hand on the desk. “Does he not realise the position he would place her in by asking her that? If I were not her father, you know good and well what would happen to her if she were caught spying.”
Snape nodded once, “I expressed the same concern. I haven’t mentioned it to Miss Granger yet. I wanted to tell you what he said. It seems he is still content to use her as a pawn.”
“I'll never let that happen again. That man will pay for what he did to her,” Voldemort took a slow breath, trying to calm his rage. “I visited her parents a few days ago. I was able to steer the conversation about Hermione being adopted. It was all there for my purview. Albus brought Hermione to them when she was only a few days old, knowing they were looking to adopt. He also had Felicity with him. Mrs Granger was more open to being read, and what I saw, I know that he disposed of Felicity after. She was wearing torn and tattered clothing, and whenever she tried to speak out, to take Hermione back, he would speak to her, causing her to blank out, following his directions. He used the Imperious curse on her, I am sure.”
“Did you tell them you were her father?” Lucius asked.
“Don’t be absurd. Fudge doesn’t really believe I am back, and he's on the outs. I can’t go around telling them that. I just informed them that the family had come forward, hearing that Hermione was related to them, wanting her with them.”
“Do you think they will tell Albus?”
“I'm counting on it. I didn’t Obliviate them, I used your likeness, Lucius, so I'm sure he will see it in their mind eventually, knowing that Hermione will not be returning to them, that they signed custody over to you. There's nothing they could do. I'm glad for that fact. Her father…her father tried to beat the magic out of her when she was six. That was when Albus came back, hiding her appearance and locking her magic. That man who adopted her is what Muggles are, ignorant—a blight on this world. I left them alone for Hermione’s sake, not mine. I'll need to gain her trust slowly if she is to accept me seeing things from my perspective that Muggles are dangerous and need to be dealt with.”
“I told Albus that Miss Granger will return to Hogwarts and will have some precautions in place to ensure she is safe,” Snape said.
“Ah, yes. Thank you for bringing that up, Severus. When she returns, I want her to be resorted for one. I'm sure she would be sorted in the correct house this time. Slytherin,” he paused for a moment, tilting his head, studying Snape for a few moments. “There is something else I am thinking about to help protect her. I'll need to add an extra layer of protection for her when she returns next year, seeing that she'll be there much longer, and the chances of her being harmed are greater. I'll implement it then. I need her to bond with someone. I want that to be you, Severus. She is of age to marry, thanks to Dumbledore, I'm sure, and I think that you would make the most sense to Albus, although let him come to that conclusion himself. I'm sure he would suggest you bond with my daughter, thinking it would be best considering your…ties with me.”
Keeping his mask in place was difficult. His heart hammered in his chest at the mere thought of being bonded with Hermione. He didn’t want to show any outward emotion for Voldemort to read into. “As you wish. I'll inform Albus when I return about the sorting and let him know you are thinking of bonding her to someone.”
“You can retrieve her on Monday as long as he agrees to my terms. When she leaves school, she'll return to me at Malfoy Manor. While she's at Hogwarts, please make sure you keep close tabs on her, that she's with someone who can watch over her.”
“I'll write Draco and let him know to watch over her,” Lucius said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Be sure he lets everyone know that she's off-limits now and she's to be protected at all costs,” he narrowed his crimson eyes at the man.
“Now, were you able to procure what I asked you for, Severus?” he asked, looking over at Snape.
Snape pulled out two vials from his pockets, setting them on the desk. He uncorked both, pouring Hermione’s blood in the other, watching the colour of the potion that was within turn from a light crème colour to a vibrant red. “This should complete the potion. I believe that since you share the same blood, Hermione’s blood was the missing ingredient.”
He corked the potion, giving it a slight shake and handed it over to Voldemort, who inspected it. “I had thought the same thing, actually. I am positive this will do the trick,” he looked over at the two men sitting in front of him, shooing Nagini away. “I would like for you two to remain here while I take this to ensure nothing goes wrong. If this works as I hope it does, I will be able to start seeing my daughter as soon as tonight.”
With their consenting nods, he uncorked the vial, downing the liquid, hoping that finally, he would be able to look in the mirror once again, seeing the face of his younger years, and all the abnormalities that came with being a product of a Love Potion would be no more as well.
Chapter 5: Meeting Hermione—Again.
Chapter Text
Feelings were something that Voldemort was not used to. He was used to feeling the rage, yes, but anxiety, fear, no. He never felt love either. That was the curse of being a product of the Love Potion. Something he thought should be outlawed.
Now he felt everything. He had to actively work on not hexing everyone that he came across as he adjusted. He sequestered himself in his room for the past several days after regaining not only his looks, which pleased him, but the feelings that came back along with it. Any abnormalities he had before were no more thanks to Severus’ potions.
He had caught glimpses of Hermione out of his large bedroom window that overlooked the gardens, watching her as she walked with Narcissa. She appeared happy and relaxed, but he felt the anxiety bubble up within him, thinking about her. What if she didn’t accept him? He didn’t want to be like his father. He wanted her to accept him.
On the positive side, her room was close to his, so he was able to hear her soft footsteps as she left her room. It also helped ease his mind knowing he would be able to hear anyone coming near her room. He had set a charm at the end of the hallway, sending off a signal to him telling him who was entering the hallway. Several people simply would not be allowed to be near them.
Tonight, he was meeting with Hermione to speak to her about everything. It would be the first time she would see him for who he really was, as he was supposed to be from the beginning: human emotions and all. Severus and Narcissa would be there to help them along, to help ease Hermione’s fears.
‘Her fears,’ he scoffed. He had his own to deal with right now.
With his emotions back, he had more clarity about the war. He was going about it all wrong. He attacked Muggles, yes, but that was because they didn’t know or need to be part of the magical world. Albus believed that Muggles, all Muggles, could be trusted with the knowledge that magic exists, and that was not the case.
Muggles would abuse that knowledge, forcing magical beings into servitude, and he would not let that stand. Mudbloods were also a danger, bringing with them nonmagical parents who might let it slip that magic does indeed exist.
Tonight, he would tell her of his safeguards in place so that she could return to Hogwarts. He thought he learned enough about her to know she would protest to his demands, not that it mattered to him. The only way he would allow her to return was to do it his way.
Adjusting his clothes in the mirror, he left his room to meet his daughter formally.
≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫
Snape handed a small vial to Hermione. “This is a calming drought, it’ll help you tonight.”
Grasping the vial, she looked down at it with a furrowed brow. “What’s happening tonight?”
“You’ll get the answers to your questions,” Narcissa said.
“About my parents?” Hermione asked. “Will I be able to go home and see them?”
Snape placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’m sure that question will be answered tonight.”
Taking a steadying breath, Hermione downed the contents, grimacing when the taste of ash flooded her mouth. She handed the vial back to Snape, leaning back in the wingback chair, waiting for the potion to take over.
Snape nodded at Narcissa when Hermione sank further in the chair, letting out a sigh, her eyes drooping slightly.
Narcissa stood up, making her way to the library door. Hermione watched and felt as if her heart should be hammering in her chest, but that didn’t happen.
Blinking her eyes over at Snape, Hermione tried to focus her half-lidded eyes. “What did you put in this?” she whispered. She felt like she was high as a kite; nothing could touch her. She didn’t particularly hate the feeling; she knew she should be alarmed, but the emotions would not thoroughly surface.
Snape let out a deep chuckle, his lips tugging up in a smile. She thought he looked handsome with that smile. He should smile more often. “I may have made this particular brew slightly stronger,” he said.
“I’ll say,” she mumbled.
“Hello, Hermione,” a rich voice greeted her.
Lifting her head, she saw a man standing in front of her, smiling down at her. A very handsome man, his features sharp and defined. His black hair neatly combed, his blue eyes sparkling as he studied her, the robes he was wearing were of a Pureblood, she thought idly.
She formed a lazy smile, trying to stand to greet him. He put out his hand to stop her from standing. “No need to get up,” he chuckled. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
She bobbed her head in agreement.
“My name is…Tom,” he grimaced slightly. “I’m here to speak to you about a few things. Are you up for a little chat?”
“I think so,” she said.
“I know you have several questions as to why you are here, and I hope to shed some light on that, but first, before I answer your questions, I need you to take a vow that everything you hear here tonight will not be shared with anyone outside of this room without my permission. Can you do that?”
“I don’t have my wand,” she frowned.
“You won’t need it. Severus will be the one to bind the promise. I’m asking for an Unbreakable Vow.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded her head. She wanted the answers so desperately. Would it be worth taking an Unbreakable Vow? In her mind, it was. She wasn’t one to speak about things that others should know about anyway.
She flinched slightly when golden ropes wrapped around her wrists, connecting her to Tom. She heard Snape ask her the question that she would agree to hold her secrets, swearing on her magic and her life.
“Yes,” she whispered, slumping back into the chair when Tom released her hand, sitting back in the chair next to hers.
Lucius handed Tom a drink of Firewhiskey when he took the seat nearest Hermione. He nodded his thanks, taking a small sip of the whiskey, setting it on the table beside him.
“Now that is over with,” he waved his hand dismissively, “Would you be up to answering some of my questions first?”
Tom studied her as she blinked her eyes several times, tilting her head to the side. “What do you want to know?” she asked, her expression guarded.
“Well, I was told by Severus that you are taking advanced potion-making with him. Was that your idea?”
Hermione cringed slightly, “I can’t tell you that,” she whispered.
“Is it a secret?”
“Well, I was asked not to speak to anyone about certain things," she said as she shifted uncomfortably.
Tom hummed lightly, a pensive look crossing his handsome visage, “What if I told you the reason why I’m asking is that I believe that Albus has lied to you.”
“Professor Dumbledore?
“Yes. Let me tell you what I think,” he paused, “I think that Professor Dumbledore asked you to take advanced potions.”
Hermione chewed her bottom lip for a moment before nodding slowly.
“What you tell me will be between us, Hermione. I’m here to protect you.”
“Protection from what? I don’t understand anything that is going on.” Hermione said. “I’ve been here for Merlin knows how long, and all I’m told is my parents are not Muggles, that their name is Rosier.”
“Your adopted parents are most certainly Muggles. Your real parents are not.”
“Adopted?” Her bottom lip trembled slightly, thinking of the implications that this man, next to her, was telling her. There was no way she was adopted. Surely her parents would have told her something that important. She was thankful for the calming effect, as she was sure she would be freaking out more than she was. “You’re lying.”
“No. I’m not. Albus placed you with the Grangers when you were a newborn, Hermione. I know this for a fact. He knew who your real parents were. He placed you there to hide you from them.”
“He wouldn’t do that? Who are my parents that he would have to hide me?”
Professor Snape moved his seat closer to her, placing his hand on her arm. She looked over at him, her complexion slightly pale. “Professor? Is this true? Did you know?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know until very recently. Dumbledore knew that the Grangers were your adopted parents. Your adopted parents knew, I’m sure they didn’t tell you, on his orders not to.”
Bowing her head, she closed her eyes. Why would Dumbledore do that? She had trusted him, believed in him. “Why?” She croaked. “Why would he do that to me?”
“He did it because of who your father is,” Tom said.
Lifting her head, she met his gaze, steadying herself, “Who is he?”
“Me,” he said. “I’m your father. I don't go by Tom, though. You may know me as Lord Voldemort,” he knelt in front of her, taking her hand, “I'll never hurt you, Hermione. You have my word. I had no idea you even existed before I had you bleed on the legitimacy papers.” he let out a deep breath. “I was a product of the Love Potion, you should know what that does to someone—their child, which in this case, me. I had no idea how to love or really feel anything. I simply didn’t care. I can tell you now that I feel everything. Not only can I feel, but this is how I’m supposed to look.”
She took a sharp intake of breath. Of course, she knew what that potion did. She was surprised that Fred and George sold it as a novelty item; it was far too dangerous to be sold and bought that way.
She studied closely, watching for any deception, but she saw none. She had no idea what Voldemort looked like before, so it was hard to tell. All she could remember vaguely about him before was the crimson eyes that narrowed at her, his snake-like face a mottled grey that watched while Bellatrix tried to break her.
She shuddered.
Her brain was working hard to process what the man was saying in front of her. Lord Voldemort? She shook her head in denial. There was no way she was the daughter of the evilest man known to the wizarding world. He certainly didn’t look evil to her; he looked refined, but looks could always be deceiving. “No. NO, that’s not true, he wouldn't do that, he wouldn't.”
“It's true, Hermione. I’m your father, and I’m most certainly Lord Voldemort. I don’t know what truly happened to your mother, Felicity Rosier. I didn’t even know she was pregnant, or that I even had a child, until that day. If I had known, I would’ve protected you. I'll tell you that she disappeared just before she was to give birth to you on the way here to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa can tell you more about her when you are ready.”
“But…but you’re evil. You killed my best friend’s parents and tried to kill him, too.”
“Yes, I did. There was a reason for that, which we will get into later. Right now, I want you to understand certain things about your parents. I’m not saying I’m without faults, you know everything I’ve done, I’m sure, but the light warps that view, or should I say, Albus.”
Voldemort grinned up at her when Hermione raised her brow at him, “Not everything is black and white, Hermione. Please try to understand that things are not always so clear-cut. I'll admit that perhaps I went about cleansing this world the wrong way. That was before. Now that I’m finally restored, I can admit that. That doesn’t change the fact that Albus is as much to blame as I am. He thinks Muggles are harmless, that they mean no harm to magical beings,” he held her stare. “Do you believe that Muggles can be trusted with that knowledge?”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Sadly, he did have a point. No. Muggles, in general, could not be trusted with the knowledge. She had lived in the Muggle world long enough to know this. People usually feared what they didn’t understand. Even her father…. her adopted father, if what she is hearing was true, often called her a freak.
Opening her eyes slowly, she shook her head, “No. Not all Muggles can be trusted. However, I don’t believe that Muggleborn witches like I’m…or thought I was, pose a threat. They have rights, just as Purebloods do.”
“I don’t completely agree with you; it’s the Muggleborns that pose a slight threat. It’s through their parents that the knowledge of us can be exposed. What would happen if that happened?”
“There has to be a better way than to kill them,” she argued. “I can see your point about Muggles finding out, but I still believe that they shouldn’t be killed for being Muggleborn. It’s my understanding that the population of the wizarding world is on the decline. I would think that having someone who is not born into a magical family, but rather magic chose them, they would be accepted. It would bring new blood.”
“We are getting off track. We can discuss this later. Right now, I want to know what else Dumbledore has told you,” he squeezed her hand gently before standing up and sitting in his chair once again. “I'd also like to know why your magical age is nineteen instead of sixteen, as you should be.”
Letting out a small huff, Hermione decided it was best to answer his questions. She needed to be careful when it came to him, “My second year, Professor Dumbledore gave me a time-turner to use. I’ve been using it for the past three years.”
“What?” he growled. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“I know the rules for using it,” she shrugged. “He gave it to me so I could study with Professor Snape and Mme. Pomfrey.”
“Did he tell you the reason he needed you to do that?”
“No. I suspect it had something to do with Harry. He once told me that I was the brightest witch of my age, and I was a fine example of a Muggleborn witch.”
“He just wanted to use you as a poster child for Muggles,” Tom seethed. “The one thing you must know is not to trust him, Hermione. He uses people. Makes them into his pawns. He used them for his own means, to get what he wanted. Right now, he wants to destroy me with any means necessary, no matter who is sacrificed.”
Snape cleared his throat, “It’s true, Miss Granger. There are things about Mr Potter that you have yet to learn that Albus is privy to and has yet to let Mr Potter know. Things I think he should know. In time, I’m sure your father will share that information with you as well, but for now, please know what Lord Voldemort is telling you is the truth.”
Hermione rubbed her temples, trying to digest everything she had learned. She was glad that the calming drought was in her system, or she would have hexed everyone here and made a run for it. Not that she could, she had no wand. She was trying to keep her wits about her.
Why was Snape here with Voldemort? She has always thought he worked for the light, at least that's what Professor Dumbledore said. Then it clicked. ‘He is a spy for the order, you’ve seen him there at Grimmauld place. Don’t panic. He won’t let them hurt you. He healed you.’
“When can I go home, or back to Hogwarts?” Hermione asked, looking at Tom.
“You’ll be unable to return to your adopted parents, Hermione. You’re mine. My child. You belong by my side. If you want to go visit them for a brief time with someone as your escort, I don’t have a problem with that. I didn’t kill them if that is what you are thinking. Although now that Albus knows I’m aware of you, your adopted parents may be in danger.”
She paled.
He raised his hand. “I have someone outside their house looking after them. I suspect Albus is going to visit them once again.”
“You didn’t kill them?” Hermione whispered.
“Of course not,” he scoffed. “They may be Muggles, but now that's what they are. Muggles. I’m not a monster,” he said. “They pose no threat yet. They would be safer with no knowledge of you or the magical world, but I thought you at least wanted to see them again before anything is done, as in Oblivating them, not killing them,” he let out a breath. “I’m sorry you're unable to return to them, but it was for the best. I've got to keep you safe, too.”
She nodded her head slowly, “Hogwarts?”
“You may return to school, but I have to have some safeguards in place, something you must be willing to do to return.”
“Such as?”
“I want you to be resorted for one.”
“But why? What’s wrong with Gryffindor?”
“Nothing is particularly wrong with the lions,” he said. “When you were first sorted, did that old hat say anything to you?”
Hermione frowned, thinking back, “Well, he said something about my intellect, that Ravenclaw would be a decent choice, also it was too bad I was a Muggleborn that I would do well in Slytherin.”
“Of course, that is where you belong. You are a descendant of Salazar himself. That’s your house.”
“How could the sorting hat not know I’m not a Muggleborn?”
“Glamours for one, I’m sure. You look different now because this is how you are supposed to look. Your memories of your childhood, etc. It most likely confused the dusty thing. I’m sure that was also Albus’s idea to hide you, making you look different enough, have memories of your adopted parents thinking they were your real parents, as well as a charm making you appear Muggleborn so you wouldn’t be sorted there.”
Swallowing hard, she gave him a short nod, “I’ll agree to that, but what if I’m sorted back to Gryffindor?”
“That’ll not happen, I assure you.”
“Is that all I need to do? Just be resorted?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. His eyes met with Severus' briefly before looking back at Hermione’s. “This next safeguard is nonnegotiable if you want to return next year. Please keep in mind it’s for your own protection. I’m having you do this,” he held her gaze for a moment. “I need you to bond with Severus.”
“What?” she wheezed. “Professor Snape? Why? Why next year?”
“Eager, are you?” Voldemort chuckled. “I said next year so you could get to know Severus, with him courting you.”
Hermione looked over at her Professor, furrowing her brows. She was sure that if she had the full function of her faculties, she would be panicking. “Professor?”
His hand drifted down her arm, threading his fingers through hers, “I already knew about this request. I’m fine with it.”
“But…but what if you find someone you want to be with? What if I do?”
Snape frowned. “I promise you, Miss Granger, that would never happen to me. As far as you are concerned, I’m terribly sorry that your choices are taken away from you. I promise I’ll try to be considerate with you. When we court, you’ll be able to see a different side of me,” his lips tugged up forming a small smile, “Would it be so terrible to be bonded to me? You are in real danger, and I would be the most logical choice to add protection. Your return to Hogwarts on Monday, you’ll only be there for a handful of weeks.”
“Well, it just seems odd thinking about you other than my Professor, is all. I’m a student, aren’t there rules against that?”
“Albus will agree, in fact, I’m sure he will even suggest it. It’s his doing that you are of age to be married now, correct?”
“Yes,” She sighed.
“Keep an open mind, Hermione,” Tomt said. “Severus is someone who has served me well. He’ll keep you safe. I know that next year, with the other students and even with Albus, you may have a difficult time navigating things. If you were in Severus’ care, as his wife, no one would dare harm you.”
Hermione let out a small snort, thinking of that scenario. It is true that whenever they saw Professor Snape with his billowing robes coming towards them, everyone scattered like rats. It was only her time spent with him in private that she was able to see a slightly different side to him at times. He would look at her with a softened expression, rarely before returning to his customary scowl.
“You’ll understand in time, Hermione,” Voldemort said, “You’ll return to Hogwarts with this new knowledge on Monday, and when you do, be sure to watch what is happening around you. What he's doing.”
“I’d like to see my parents before I return to school.”
“You may see your adopted parents tomorrow. I’ll accompany you along with Narcissa.”
“Thank you. I just—I want to hear it from them. I want to understand.”
“I can show you the memories I saw if you wish,” he offered. “Some may be disturbing to see. I must warn you about your real mother; they have seen her. I also know your childhood was far from pleasant.”
She grimaced slightly, “He just didn’t understand.” She bowed her head.
“Muggles usually don’t,” Voldemort said, lifting her chin gently. He stood offering his hand to Hermione, which she reluctantly took. He tugged her to a standing position, where she swayed lightly. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his head on top of hers. An odd warmth filled her when she wrapped her arms around him, albeit stiffly, but it was a start.
Kissing the top of her head, he handed her off to Narcissa. “I’ll see you in the morning to take you to see them. Try to get some rest. I’ll send Nagini up soon to rest with you.”
“You don’t have to do that, do you?”
“Why not? Has she done something to you I should know about?”
“Well, no. She is just…I’m afraid she will bite me.”
“She would never bite you, I assure you. She is quite fond of you, I promise. I’ll see if I can show you how to speak to her.”
Nodding, she let Narcissa lead her out of the room. She had a lot to think about.
≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫
Voldemort watched them go before he sank into his chair. “Well, I think that went well,” he said, grabbing the Firewhiskey and downing the contents of the tumbler.
“I’m sure in time she’ll understand, she's far too intelligent not to,” Snape said. “She’s good at compartmentalising things.”
Voldemort leaned back in his chair, turning his head towards Snape, “You do know, Severus, that this bond is a permanent bond, correct?”
“I do,” Severus said, his heart skipping a beat.
“See that you never harm her. If you do, I'll have no problems disposing of you as I did Bellatrix.”
“You’ll never have to worry about that, My Lord.” Severus bowed his head.
If Voldemort only knew how much it pleased him that he was going to bond with Hermione, he might be dead on the floor right now. He already promised Voldemort that he would do his best when courting Hermione this summer to show her affection, although he would have to be careful doing so. Voldemort wanted her to be happy, but so did Severus. He would make sure it happened.
He could see the changes already with Voldemort, but that didn’t mean he would relax completely in his presence. He supposed it was due to his willingness to share more than he usually did when it came to Albus. That was because Hermione was in danger, real danger. He'd already gone to Albus once to protect the woman he loved, Lily, and it's his belief now that the reason why Lily had died was because of Albus moving his pieces on the board to do so. He would never let that happen to Hermione.
He would protect her. Always.
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