A/N: Hello and welcome to my new story. This is one I've been planning for some time and I chose to write it for NanoWriMo this year. I have quite a bit of it written already though the story isn't complete yet. As I'm editing this before posting it may take a bit of time between updates so you're patience is appreciated. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own harry Potter! Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling and I'm honored to be able to use her brilliant creations for my own plot.

Prologue

Lightning flashed through the night skies and the deafening boom of thunder followed swiftly. The pitter patter of the raindrops on the roof and the windowpanes of the manor was only broken by the softly sung lullaby over a wooden cradle. A woman stood over her stubborn but beautiful daughter as she put her down to sleep for the night. She waited alone with the baby for her husband to return home from whatever task he had taken off for that night. She watched through the window as the storm raged outside and passingly pondered how fitting it was to storm on Halloween.

The witch wasn't ignorant. She knew there was a war brewing and that her husband was the dark lord everyone was so afraid of but she wasn't a part of his group. She was kept blissfully unaware of his dealings and separate from his associates. It was almost like she had her head buried in the sand, she might know something was going on but without seeing anything she could easily convince herself that things were alright. In fact, Tom was nothing but a regular wizard inside the walls of their manor. He came home to kiss his wife and tuck in his daughter and spoke nothing of what went on outside. The woman had a hard time seeing him as anything other than the husband she loved, the boy she had known in school. She was only a second year when he graduated. However, she lost count of the times he complimented her drive for knowledge and ability to master skills above her grade level. He told her that she reminded him of himself at her age because she was much more advanced than her peers, as he had been. She had looked up to him and then years later, when she graduated at the top of her class, he was running in the same circles as she was and they reconnected. Two years after that her father and Tom came to an agreement and she was given to him in marriage. Tom hadn't wanted children right away too intent on gaining power and influence and dutifully she stood by him. It was fourteen years before they started trying, when Tom decided an heir would be beneficial after all. However, she had trouble conceiving.

The couple had given up hope, Tom moving on with his plans without worrying about an heir and his wife sadly resigned to the fact they wouldn't have children. It came as a great surprise when twenty-eight years into their marriage, fourteen years after starting to try, she conceived. As the witch looked back into the cradle at her sleeping daughter she smiled at the little miracle they had been blessed with. Content the little one was finally asleep the woman quietly left the nursey pulling the door shut behind her. She wasn't yet down the hallway when she heard the wind howling through the front foyer as the door was blasted open. Drawing her wand out of her sleeve she crept towards the front to see who was intruding.

Four large, powerful, dominating men stood in in the hall whispering quietly to one another as if their entrance hadn't already awoken the dead. The woman recognized these men and knew they were no friends.

"Get the child," one of them spoke quietly and although she didn't know who it was it was all the woman needed before her maternal instincts kicked in.

"You can't have her!" She exclaimed loudly her wavy hair crackling with energy and rage.

"Sage, see reason, and no harm will be done," one of the men spoke calmly hands out as though attempting to calm a rabid dog. His red hair was falling in his face.

"Arthur!" Another man with a scarred face and long, dirty, blond hair hissed, "Enough already. We're here for the child, stick to the mission."

"You will not take my daughter Alastair," Sage stated wildly brandishing her wand in a protective stance as she blocked the path to the hallway leading to the nursery.

"The girl is coming with us, one way or another!" He grumbled darkly.

"Sage, please, we don't want to hurt you, or the child, but you must know that we can't let a child stay to be influenced by him," Arthur Weasley tried again.

"Stupefy!" The witch shouted and shot the stunner at him knowing she was outnumbered but determined to fight for her Hermione. She missed her target as he sidestepped the red light and four separate hexes shot towards her simultaneously. Four against one Sage knew she didn't have stand a chance despite her strong shielding charm. She was fighting a losing battle. It wasn't long before Moody's incarcerous hit her and she was bound in ropes and then hit by Arthur's silencing spell. Still attempting to fight and sending off a nonverbal, wandless expelliarmus at the third wizard she was finally hit by a slicing hex which dropped her to the ground unable to fight further.

The wizards wasted no further time and helplessly she watched as the last wizard, her old professor walked down the hall to collect Hermione. He shot her a regretful look as he left her laying there and walked out the hole where a door once stood with her baby in his arms. The others followed him out.

There was no telling how long Sage laid there, slowly bleeding out before another figure walked through the door. She was unconscious by the time help arrived, and taken to St. Mungos. Her rescuer had not expected what he found, his duty was to inform the witch that her husband failed and had disappeared. None of his followers believed he was truly dead but for now he was gone, defeated by an infant. In the end he didn't have to relay the message. He only knew that one day, when the dark lord inevitably rose again, that there would be hell to pay. Those who had dared to take his child and harm his wife would face the ire of the most powerful dark wizard of the day. They had better hope that when the day came the dark lord's heir was still breathing.

Chapter One

The late afternoon sun had started its downward journey and caused Hermione to leap up from beneath the cascading, green leafed branches of the willow tree she loved reading under. The park was only blocks away from her muggle residence but far enough that she was later than she should be. The Weasley's were due to collect her at nightfall and take her to the burrow where she would spend the last two weeks of summer with her friends and she should have already been home. Hurriedly she headed in that direction sweating from the stifling August heat yet soaking up every ounce of it gladly knowing that it wouldn't be long before she was bundled up against the cold winds in the rolling Scottish hills.

The adolescent witch was overcome by an ominous feeling that something was wrong when she approached her house. There was an odd energy she sensed that wasn't there normally, something heavy, dark and unwelcome. However, she was still weeks away from coming of age and in a muggle area so was unable to use magic leaving her unsure how to proceed. It was a Sunday afternoon, and her mum and dad were inside and it was clear that something bad was going on. They would want her to run, and considering the state of the wizarding world she would be wise to do so, but every fiber of her being told her she needed to help them. Not one to ignore her gut instincts Hermione rushed inside like any true Gryffindor would. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw upon entering.

Her dad was sprawled out on the carpeted floor of the den, eyes glazed and mouth agape. He was unmoving but she didn't have time to process that he was gone because her mother was stuck against the wall hovering inches off ground and writhing in pain from the effects of the cruciatus curse. The unmistakable, hulking and tall form of Thorfinn Rowle stood inside her kitchen, recognizable to her from all of his bullying towards her in first year. He was now a known death eater, and he wasn't alone. Two others were behind him, one wizard she didn't know and another she couldn't identify as only his feet were visible. It was the former who was holding her mum under the curse.

"Stop!" she yelled the command abruptly and gave away her presence to the deatheaters inside her home. The wizard ceased the curse over her mother and faced her just as she was grabbed from behind.

"Why should I? They are only filthy muggles," the brute spat out.

"Mulicber," Rowle hissed in warning. "We got what we came for, leave the wretched thing alone. And let's get out of here before the Aurors show up!"

The brute shrugged but released her mother who fell in a heap on the floor. It was the last thing she saw before she was pulled into a side along aparation. When her captor and she reappeared in their new location he immediately dropped her. She fell and scrambled for her wand but was quickly disarmed.

"Sorry princess, can't have you getting into trouble with this now," Rowle smirked smugly from above her. Determined to fight him anyways she got to her feet and charged at him, causing the tall, muscular wizard to laugh in amusement.

While she did manage to knock him back a few paces that was all she accomplished before a stunner hit her in the back. She collapsed again this time dazed and unable to get back up.

"We were ordered not to hurt her," Rowle said to whomever had hit her with the spell.

"He didn't harm her," The one called Mulicber replied, he simply did what he had to in order to prevent her causing damage to herself. Take her to her room Thorfinn."

She was lifted up and carried to where she assumed would be the dungeons but was surprised to find him walking upstairs. She was laid gently onto a plush, downy mattress. Before the stunner wore off Rowle reached into his pocket and removed a potion vile which he proceeded to pour down her throat. In her current paralyzed state she couldn't spit it back out and soon the room began to fade.

"Sleep well, princess. Your questions will be answered when you awake." She heard the words as though she were underwater and he was speaking above the surface, barley able to process them her world went black.

Awaking from a dreamless sleep was gradual. She first became aware of the soft surface under her and the light weight of covers draped over her. Her eyelids drifted open and blinked several times from the bright light filling the room and eventually her thoughts caught up to her. Hermione shot straight up in bed faster than a speeding bullet when she recalled the events of the day before.

"Oh dear," a voice called to her left "I wouldn't sit up so quickly if I were you." Hermione turned her head. In a chair in the corner slowly rocking back and forth was Narcissa Malfoy. Feeling woozy from the sudden movement Hermione had no choice but to lay back down.

"Why am I here?" she croaked. Draco's mother rose from the chair and brought a glass of water to her lips, soothing the dryness and quenching her Hermione's thirst.

"I can't say. It's not my place to explain it to you child," the older witch explained gently. "You will find out in due time. For now, take it easy, dreamless sleep has some rather nasty side-effects and that dumb brute dumped the entire vile down your throat."

"Why are you being nice to me? Aren't a prisoner?"

"A prisoner? No. You are a guest."

"I was forcibly brought here against my will, which is the exact opposite of being a guest."

"Would you have come willingly?" Narcissa queried raising one delicate brow. Hermione remained silent, knowing the answer. "Exactly."

"If I wanted to go home right now would I be able to walk out that door unhindered?" It was the other witch's turn to not answer. "As I thought, I'm a prisoner. A guest would be free to leave."

"Well, choose to see it however you want. Personally I consider you a guest in my home and shall treat you as one, as will my family. Now, while you are waiting for answers, I've heard that you quite enjoy reading. I've brought you some books from the library to pass the time. I'll have some dinner sent up for you as well." Narcissa indicted the pile of books on the bedside stand before turning and leaving the room. Hermione didn't miss the unmistakable sound of a lock turning in the door.

"Yeah, because all guests get locked into their room," she muttered to herself. Escape at this point was futile, and frankly the young witch wanted answers as to why she was brought here. Her thoughts turned to her parents and tears fell from her eyes. She was certain her father was dead, having seen him herself. Her mother however, she had no idea. She had been apparated away before she could see what that horrible wizard did. More likely than not she was an orphan.

When crying and replaying the events leading up to this became too much she finally reached for the first book in the stack and opened the pages. Just as she began reading, there was a loud pop and a plate of food appeared on a tray before her. Sighing as she determined that she couldn't very well hold the book and the tray at the same time she closed the tome and set it to the side so she could eat.

Hermione's hunger outweighed her fear that the food might be laced with potions or poisons. She wondered how long she had been asleep after being force fed the dreamless sleep, the most potent of all the standard magical sleeping aides. However, without a clock in the room or a wand to cast the tempus charm Hermione had no way of knowing what time it was. It had to have been awhile at least because her stomach was rumbling, especially now that she could smell the food, and she had eaten lunch not long before she was snatched. In all honesty, based on the fact she wasn't located in a dungeon being tortured she doubted that these people would go through the effort of poisoning her.

She opened the silver lid which was engraved with the Malfoy family crest, much to her chagrin. On the platter was a hearty but not overwhelming serving of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, broccoli and a small amount of treacle tart. Overcome by her need for food the witch began to eat slowly. The meal was delicious, as elf made food almost always was, full of rich flavor. Soon enough Hermione had consumed most of everything served and quietly set the tray aside.

"Who clears the dishes when I'm finished?" She mused aloud and jumped slightly when the tray disappeared with a loud pop. "Oh right. It's a magical household, Hermione Jean," she chided herself with a shrug. Putting it out of her mind she once again picked up the large tome and resumed her reading. She was about a quarter of the way through the book when her eyes began to droop. For a moment she felt panicked that they had indeed put something in her food after all. Then she remembered that Rowle had dosed her with the entire vile of dreamless sleep earlier. The average witch and wizard only needed a sip or two at most for the potion to work. Her sudden exhaustion was more likely than not the lingering traces of the potion in her system. Giving up hope of remaining alert she sighed heavily and shut the hardcover before placing it back on the stack. She turned on her side and closed her eyes falling into another deep and quiet slumber.

The next time she woke, Hermione assumed it was in the morning, it was to the popping sound of another tray of food being delivered. This time it contained eggs, toast, bacon and sausage links as well some hash browns, tea and pumpkin juice. It was far more than she would normally eat in the mornings so Hermione surprised herself by clearing her plate. She reasoned that she was not turning into a pig but rather she was low on energy due to her level of stress and the amount of sleeping she'd been having.

"Thank you for breakfast," she announced to no one in particular when she finished and watched as the tray vanished from sight. Hermione rose from the bed needing to move around before her muscles began to seize up. Glancing at the door which she saw Narcissa Malfoy leave through during her last visit she scowled knowing it was still locked. She didn't even need to check it to be certain. She turned her attention to the other two doors in the room. She opened one and realized it was a closet full of no less then several dozen of various shaded dress robes and pairs of shoes. Hermione closed the door as quickly as she opened it and looked into the other one. To her immeasurable relief it was an attached bathroom suite. Hermione wasted no time in entering, needing to relieve her bladder. In the middle of the room was an ornate pool that Hermione could only assume was supposed to be the bathtub. It was empty of water at the moment and her eyes widened as she noticed the quantity of facets. The tub itself rivaled the size of the one in the Hogwarts prefect's lavatory. She could only assume that much like that one there were different functions to the faucets to add a number of different relaxing elements to the water when it was full.

A part of her wanted to indulge until she remembered that she was imprisoned here. For all she knew this was all some elaborate way of breaking her, providing all of this luxury only to take it away later and throw her in a dungeon to rot. It was then that she noticed that the clothing she arrived in had been replaced by the white, satin nightgown she was currently wearing. Hermione frowned at that, her muggle jeans and jumper missing in action as she hadn't seen them in that closet. She let out a small growl of dismay sensing that she was never going to see them again. So consumed by the bathroom the witch did not hear the door to her room unlock nor the footsteps that crossed the room.

A small, clearing of a throat alerted her to the presence of another person. "Ah, I see you found the bathroom. Very good," Narcissa commented as Hermione whirled around to face her.

"Where are my clothes?" Hermione demanded immediately still sore about having them taken from her. "I wasn't wearing this before."

"Those disgusting muggle rags have been burned, as they should be, and you have a closet full of appropriate clothing," the older witch responded not intentionally being unkind but with a genuine repulsion for what Hermione arrived in. Hermione held back her sharp reply having already known they were gone. "I've come to inform you that you will be able to receive your answers this afternoon. I've summoned Lanny to assist you with getting ready. Should you ever need anything Lanny is yours to call upon."

"I don't need an elf to help me get dressed."

"Oh but my dear, I really think you do. In fact, I insist upon it." Hermione huffed in indignation at the Malfoy matriarch's snide remark and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll return for you when it's time." The witch finished as the house elf, Lanny, appeared in the large bathroom. With a simple nod of the head the regal witch turned her back and left once more.

Lanny immediately took charge and before Hermione even had a chance to mutter to herself about the other's witches condensing attitude, she was stripped and thrown into a steaming bath. The water was scented with jasmine and was full of bubbles.

"Missy be relaxing now and letting Lanny clean up Missy's hair. Worry not I'll have you nice and proper soon." The female elf squeaked at her and set to work. The elf lathered shampoo into Hermione's locks followed by a deep conditioner with a vanilla aroma. Lanny worked magic when Hermione was done bathing by smoothing out the unruly curls and taming the frizz the witch put up with daily. Hermione was impressed with how her hair was shinny with smooth waves instead of her normal unkempt and bushy monstrosity.

Clearly the little house elf noticed Hermione pleasantly shocked expression because she put her hands on her hips and with a stern, disapproving glare scolded, "If Missy only took some time to look presentable her hair would not be such a mess." Hermione narrowed her eyes but honestly had to concede the point. She never was a girly girl, and didn't spend much time on her appearance preferring to get clean and spend the rest of her free time reading or studying. However, she didn't need to admit that to the creature.

"I'll have to take that under advisement," she snapped the reply. Lanny only snapped her fingers in reply and summoned a tray of cosmetics.

"Sits down," she commanded the witch and proceeded to pull her down onto the chair. It didn't take long for the make-up to be applied and while it was rather simplistic it was more than Hermione ever wore. In fact, Hermione didn't bother with the stuff, the only time she actually wore anything was for the Yule Ball in her fourth year. Glancing in the mirror she took in how defined her honey hued eyes became with a dash of mascara and liner. Her complexion improved with a brush of blush. A glittering but translucent gloss applied to her lips added the perfect amount of shine to complete the look. Seemingly satisfied Lanny directed her out of the bathroom and began digging through the massive closet.

Hermione was still wearing the fluffy robe the elf has summoned after she towel dried and was feeling rather awkward having somebody else choosing her clothes for her. However she didn't have much of a say as moments after she had the thought Lanny stood before her holding pale green dress robes. As far as Hermione could tell these were casual, made of simple materials and with a modest, comfortable fit to them. Of course, for a witch who never wore traditional wizarding robes, or dresses in general for that matter, it was far fancier than she was accustomed to.

"Why can't I wear pants?" she mumbled more to herself than to anyone else but Lanny replied anyway.

"Proper young witches do not make a habit of wearing pants, Missy. Only if they are keeping their own company, perhaps but never when in public or with an audience." Hermione rolled her eyes truly beginning to wonder what all of the trouble of molding her into the image of a pureblooded lady was about. Hermione wasn't a pureblood! She was a muggle-born and she was proud of her roots and her parents and her muggle habits. Curiosity and the need for answers was grating on nerves and she was become anxious and agitated to be let out of this room so she could receive them.

Lanny brought a full length mirror before Hermione and showed her the completed look. Hermione had to admit, Lanny had done a great job of transforming her as Hermione didn't recognize herself in the slightest. The door soon unlocked and opened once more to admit Narcissa.

"Lanny, I commend you efforts," the pureblood witch said to the elf, "Hermione you certainly do clean up quite nicely." Hermione tried not to take offense.

"Thank you, I guess," she replied quietly as she still gazed at her reflection.

"Lanny, If you would be kind enough to bring tea, Hermione and I have a few things to discuss before I take her to our lord," Narcissa instructed.

"Yes Mistress, Lanny will bring tea," the elf squeaked before disapparting away. Hermione was still wrapping her mind around the latter part of Narcissa's words when she repapered holding a tray of words. Their Lord, the older witch had said, meaning only one thing. Hermione was about to be brought before Voldemort.

"Thank you Lanny, you may go now," dismissed the lady of the manor. Pouring tea for both of them she inquired politely to Hermione, "how do you take your tea dear?"

"Oh, Black, 1 sugar please," Hermione indulged civilly as she accepted the cup.

"Now, my dear, I want to stress some things to you. I know that you might instinctively want to disregard me but for your own safety I must insist you be respectful." Hermione chuckled at that.

"I honestly have no idea what world you live in where you think I will ever respect your lord."

"Our Lord," Narcissa corrected. "I understand completely how difficult what I'm asking you to consider is. I struggle myself with a husband loyal as a dog to our lord who's views are far more depraved than mine. However, I value self-preservation and life. I do what I must to survive, to protect my son, and I suggest you do the same."

"Are you seriously trying to tell me you don't think that because your blood is pure that you are better than me and every other muggleborn out there?" Hermione scoffed. The older woman stared at her for several long moments.

"No," She finally admitted. "I do believe that being a pureblood and always being surrounded by magic makes my magic stronger and more innate. I have seen firsthand that wizard kind born to and raised with muggles are not magically adapt or confident. That doesn't mean that I think muggleborns should be eradicated. Yet I have my house inhabited by a brilliant, powerful and dark wizard who does believe that. Therefore, I do not act in a way to contradict our lord's views or outwardly show my own. I do what I must to prevail." Hermione contemplated that for a long while.

"I concede your point," she finally said acknowledging that anybody who was in Voldemort's path was in danger, follower, and supporter or not. "What did you need me to know?"

Narcissa sighed in relief. "First things first, remain quiet in our lord's presence unless you are directly spoken to. Secondly, for your own protection do not question, contradict or threaten him. Don't mention anything about Potter or worse, Dumbledore within his earshot, and finally, whatever you do never address him by his name. Call him always my lord, or whatever else he directs you to and nothing else."

"I suppose those terms are reasonably acceptable," Hermione acquiesced. It wasn't as if she wanted to address the dark lord as anything or even be near him, much less have cause to talk to him, so she could handle that.

"Good, good," Narcissa said as she rose up from her chair. "Very well then, my dear. If you are ready, our lord awaits." Hermione stood as well and mustered her courage.

"I'm as ready as I'll be," She replied swiftly.