Blood of My Blood

October 2, 2003

Hermione carefully closed her copy of L'histoire des Mangeurs de la Mort and rubbed her eyes. She had found the book lying on her doorstep a week ago. It was an ancient book, it's edges soft with wear, but it's red leather cover remained supple, and the gold lettering of the title was brilliant as when it was first minted. Its spine was un-cracked. Her breath came in shallow spurts. She didn't want to look at the folded parchment she had found inside the book. She didn't want to look at it again, but that did not stop her hands for carefully/reverently unfolding it. It did not stop her eyes from following her hands. Nor did it keep her from seeing the words sprawling across the page. The ink was a sickly brown color. It made her shiver.

She hugged the parchment to her chest and fled to the bedroom of her flat. She had seen that parchment before. Her eyes fluttered closed.

It had been a slick day outside. She remembered it well. Everyone else had gone to Hogsmead despite the rain, but Hermione had stayed in the library to study. She was alone, which was why Malfoy had no trouble ambushing her as she went through the stacks. It was why no one heard her screams, or her whimpers. No one was there to save her. No one, that is except the resident Slytherin ghost. He came, and Malfoy ran, but not before getting in a few choice words about mudbloods. Hermione had curled up into a ball, she had felt the chill of the Baron's presence. She had willed him to leave, but he was still there when her eyes fluttered open. Their eyes had met and he let lose of something that fluttered down to the floor. He had never said a word. Hermione had picked up the parchment...and forgot to breathe.

After that incident the Baron had began leaving her offerings; first the parchment; and then the book. The book had scared her even more then the prophecy had. She tried to get rid of it. She left it in odd places, she threw it out of windows, but it had always found it's way back into her room undamaged.

She shook herself out of her daze. Dwelling on the past would do her no good. She smiled wryly---or perhaps it would help. She gingerly folded the poem and placed it inside the book. She did not have to look at the poem to recite it; it had been transcribed in her heart since she left Hogwarts six years ago. She had never thanked the Baron for rescuing her or his dubious gift. She wished he had not been so generous. Hermione rubbed her eyes. She had thought she had finally seen the last of the book and parchment when she left Hogwarts, and yet, here they were once more.

She unfolded the parchment once more, and stared at the words written in blood...

"Comme la lune de sang se lève

le jour où les âmes errent librement

à la sève la puissance de l'anneau en Pierre

et comme dernière pierre chantez

contre la mort du choisi

pour dans ce moment ils auront lieu vraiment

mangeurs de la mort."

Bad, pidgeon French. It made her cringe, but it got it's meaning through quite throughly. As the blood moon rises//on the day when the souls roam free//the blood of my blood will fall//to sap the power from the stone ring//and as the last stone sing//against the death of the chosen//for in that moment they will truly be//eaters of death. It still made her flinch, or at least it had not made her flinch till she had recievied the second parchment from the Baron, that simply said: "Sie sind das Blut meines Bluts." You are the blood of my blood. Wizarding blood. It was all about blood. Purebloods. Mudbloods. Red, red rivers running through it. Fate had played a cruel trick on her. She wasn't nearly as muggleborn as she had once believed, and that thought made her stomach clench.

~*~

Hermione looked over Severus Snape's shoulder as he read through her book. She could feel the warmth radiating from his back.

"This Samhain there is going to be a blood moon."

"Yes, Severus, that's why I came to you."

He sneered, "I'm a Potions Master, not a detective, Miss Granger."

"Hermione." He blinked at her in confusion. "My name is Hermione, I'm not your student any longer, so please do not treat me as one. I came to you for help because you are the only person I know that has been involved with the Death-Eaters....and are still among the people that I would trust with my life."

He glared, and she took it as a cue to continue. "I started receiving these notes the first day of October." I dropped a pile of parchment in front of him. "They all essentially hang about the theme of 'We are coming for you, Granger, you are going to be so dead.' They were delivered by a black raven; I hope the symbolism isn't lost on you."

He looked at her blankly.

"Native American literature, the raven eating the sun....oh, never mind. In any case I know who they are from."

He looked even more puzzled. "Then why come to me."

"Because I know you hate Malfoy even more then I do, and I need someone to keep me safe."

"Malfoy."

"The prophecy is French. The Malfoy's are originally from France...and I recognized the handwriting. It's Lucius'. I remember it from the trial."

Severus' black eyes met Hermione's for the first time. The trial. The girl had tried so hard. They had all tried so hard, and yet money had won out and Malfoy had walked free, or nearly free. He had ended up doing time in Azkabam, but not nearly enough in Severus Snape's opinion. Four years was not enough. Hades, a thousand years would not be enough. Hermione laid her hands on his shoulders, and waited for him to flinch. He never did, just covered her hands with his own.

"I'll keep you safe. Pack your bags and meet me here in an hour."

~*~

Hermione frowned as she shrunk her books down and put them in her trunk. She had expected more of a protest from Severus. Either he was mellowing or he was up to something. She thought most likely the latter. What she had seen in his eyes had frightened her, badly. It was not hate; she could deal with that; in fact she had dealt with that. It wasn't annoyance. It wasn't fear...well maybe a little fear. No it was want. She reconsidered putting herself within his power. Did she trust him that much? Well, yes. She trusted him with her life, but she wasn't sure about other things, like her heart. She briefly pondered taking her chances with Malfoy, but being a blood sacrifice at Stonehenge was none to appealing. She finished putting the last item in her trunk and shrunk it down so it was small enough to fit in her pocket. She touched the port-key Severus had given her to return to Hogwarts with, and when she opened her eyes she was back in his office.