ARA

I.

A sea of green and white cheered as Aidan Lynch caught the golden snitch, winning Ireland the 1994 Quiditch World Cup. Hermione cheered alongside the crowd, adorned in the colours of the champions. Harry sat to her left wearing the red and black of Bulgarian, but still congratulated the winners, unlike Ron to her right. Ron in his Bulargian colours grubbled on about how Viktor Krum was superior to Lynch in all ways and deserved to have caught the snitch. "Now then, it's going to be mad busy," Mr. Weasley looked about the stands and instructed the children, "We ought to wait here for the crowd to die down.". Resigned to follow commands as per usual Hermione sat in wait. Her eyes drifted down to the back of her hand and she began to trace the freckles that resided there. Or at least, she would have if they hadn't managed to disappear. In fact the pigment in her hands had seemingly begun to lighten. She attempted to pay no mind to it as the moon had a tendency to play tricks on one's eyes. As the crowd subsided and the Weasleys and company made their way to their tent.

The pops of apparition and disapparation sounded repeatedly. Hermione would swear she heard a booming man's voice yell Morsmordre as a cloud of green smoke in the shape of a snake slithering through a skull. Was the skull eating the snake or was the snake taking control of the skull? Either way the image was haunting. She finally got a peek at just what was apparating in; dozens of figures in long black cloaks and silver masks reminiscent of skulls. She has seen a picture of them before in a book she read on the first wizarding war: The First Wizarding War: A Catalogue of Events. These people were Death Eaters. Mister Weasley must've recognized them as well as he turned to her and mouthed one word "Run.". And that's what she did. She ran.

She had found her way into the nearby woods. A growing ache was present in her feet and her lungs felt like they had been ripped out of her and torn to shreds but still she ran. She hopped over roots and lunged under trees. One root snagged her foot and she toppled; and there she was, lying helplessly on damp earth praying to whatever high being there was. She was a muggleborn, a mudblood, and these men despised her existence. She knew soon there would be no more Hermione Granger but a body lying there, if the Aurors found her one of her friends would be called in to identify her. Harry didn't deserve to see her like that, neither did Ron, Ginny, or even poor Neville.

A stick snaps apart; it must be close if she can hear it over the shouts and screams. She can feel a presence around her. She reaches for her wand and it isn't there, how could she have dropped it? More snaps. Is there more than one of them? Perhaps she could take one hand to hand but two? She tries to pull herself up and run again but she collapses. The Death Eater grabs her and in a swirl of darkness and gold she is gone.

~+~

An arm props her up against its body and she is in a line of other young women around her age. There is a Death Eater behind each of them. A voice is calling out a sting of volumous No's and a quick flash of neon green light follows suite each time. The girls were falling, limp, dead. A blonde girl screams as another girl falls next to her, they looked like sisters, or at least they did. Hermione whipped her head to see who was after her, she was the last girl in the line. Her hair smacked against her face, it was blonde. What had happened to her caramel frizz? She had finally come to terms with it. The girl beside her collapsed to the ground. The murderer faced her, wand against her throat. "Yes."

~+~

There was complete and utter darkness, until there was light. A blinding light from the candles that were suddenly lit by a quick whisper of Incendio. She took in the cobblestone floors and the tiled walls that encased her. It was too ornate to be a simple prisoner's dungeon. It reminded her of the interrogation rooms in those muggle police television shows her mother always watched. Was she going to be interrogated? Why was she here? Why didn't the Death Eaters kill her like the others? Her thoughts were cut off as the witch who had cast the spell cleared her throat. "Hello dear," She took a sharp, shaky breath. "I've been sent to assist you."

The woman pulled a black dress out of the dress bag she held. "This is for you, you can change behind–" She conjured a changing screen. "Behind this."

"I– thank you ma'am." Hermione scurried behind the screen and changed from her denim jeans and pink button down into the dress. It was a satin a-line dress that reached just below her knees, it didn't fit her very well but she didn't say anything to the woman. "Excuse me, not to be a bother but could you zip up my dress?" She asked the woman.

"Of course dear," She replied and walked toward her. Removing her silk gloves she reached for the zipper and pulled it up. She stepped back and took Hermione in. "No, now that won't do now will it," She turned her nose up at her. "Diminuendo." She admired her work. "Now that's much better, wouldn't you agree?– Oh! Silly me, one moment." She transfigured the changing screen into a floor length mirror. Hermione didn't look like herself. Her hair was a long straight honey blonde. Her eyes were deep navy. Her face appeared to be softer in the places it had been sharp and sharp in the places it had been soft. Her limbs looked spindly and her collar bones were pointy and pronounced in a way that would have looked out of place on the body she was accustomed to.

"Well, I, It looks lovely ma'am." Hermione stammered in shock. The woman swiftly transfigured a stone into a simple wooden chair.

"Go ahead and sit now will you? This hair will simply not do." She conjured a hair brush into her hand and motioned with it to the chair. "Sit." Hermione followed her command and sat. The woman brushed and pulled her hair into a twisted updo. She summoned a small cherry wood jewlery box. "These shall look quite nice if I'm not mistaken." Resting on the velvet interior was a set of pearl stud earrings, a matching necklace, and a gold necklace with a jem stone pendant. The woman levitated the jewlery on to her. Hermione flinched as the cold metal and pearls landed on her. "Don't move dear," The woman gazed down at her. "That will be suitable; I'll be on my way now, I'll come retreive you when he's ready for you."

"I hope you don't mind me asking ma'am but, what's your name?" Hermione pulled herself together and straightened her back.

"You may call me Narcissa dear." Narcissa smilied at her.

~+~

Hermione thought back on Narcissa, she had heard that name somewhere, perhaps Mrs. Weasley had mentioned it within some of her gossip. She thought her surname started with a 'M'; that seemed to fit. Maybe... Malfoy? She had heard of Narcissa Malfoy, that was Malfoy's mother's name. Now that she thought about it her face was quite similar to Malfoy's. Her mind drifted to what Narcissa said before she exited the room; who was 'he'? She fiddled with her pendant. It was moonstone. "For new beginnings." She mumbled. The door creaked open behind her.

"He's ready dear."