Hello, you who are brave enough to enter the realm of my imagination!

Lol, anyway... I have been reading a lot of Marriage Law fics lately, and I wanted to see where I could go with that idea. This is the result :)
This will become a George/Hermione fic, and other that the prologue, it will be from Hermione's point of view, unless I deem it necessary otherwise.

IMPORTANT TO KNOW: (Sorry, had to get your attention somehow, right?) Anyway, in this story, Hermione is a Ravenclaw a year above Harry and Ron. She was never their best friend, during the school-days, but she somehow manages to get herself invovled in their adventures anyway.

I should probably also mention that some of the things in this story you will recognize, but as I am from Denmark and do not own an English copy of DH, the things taken directly from the book are a translation I have made. I've never even read the English version of it, and I know something get's lost in the translation, but I've done my best. I just don't want to find any flames about plagiarism, as that was never my intention.

This story is AU from the original Harry Potter books, but I try to stick to the plot-line as best as I can. It will be slightly OOC as well, but I find that it is impossible to be completely true to any character you write, if you have not created it yourself.

This story is not beta'd and I apologize for any mistakes that should come up. I'd appreciate some constructive critism, though. :D

The rating is M, for violence and language. I suspect it is more like a T, but I don't know if I will attempt lemons yet. :)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, I don't own anything you recognize, all rights go to JK Rowling. (Damn you, Rowling, for being such a brilliant writer)

Spoiler Alert! This has spoilers for all 7 books, though the most obvious are from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Thank you!
I hope you enjoy it!

Prologue

Harry James Potter had made a serious mistake. Currently, he was cursing himself under his breath, as he ran away from the Snatchers – or tried to anyway. He and his best friend Ronald Bilius Weasley had been talking when Harry foolishly had said Voldemort's name, and triggered the Taboo.

Ron and Harry had been on the search for Horcruxes for months now. It was no more than a few weeks ago, that Ron had gotten back from what Harry now referred to as 'his little vacation'.
They had overheard some Muggleborns, on the run from Snatchers, telling the story of Ginny Weasley and her friends' attempt at breaking into the Headmaster office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry had been terrified, because Ginny was his girlfriend – and if she'd have him, fiancé when he was finished with the blasted Horcrux-hunt. (There's nothing like war to tell you to hurry up with the proposals).

Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and Lisa Turpin were Harry and Ron's great friends, and they had all been with Ginny that night. Harry had been so relieved to find out they were okay, but Ron couldn't shake it off. He'd been on and off again with Lisa since 5th year, when she had been in the DA. She was a Ravenclaw, and she was in their year.
Ron had thrown away the Horcrux he had been wearing, telling Harry he couldn't deal with anymore right now, and he had taken off. Harry had been put out with him, and had only really forgiven him, when he had jumped into a lake to save Harry from drowning, because of that damned Horcrux.

While Ron had been gone Harry had taken to go through all of his books and reviewing all the memories he and Dumbledore had seen about Voldemort. He was frustrated and fed up with his mission, but he kept on going, knowing that he really was the only person who could defeat Voldemort. He was just annoyed that no matter what he seemed to do, he couldn't find a breakthrough.

And now, as he ran, he tried to figure out a way to both get back the tent, and mess up his face, so he wouldn't be so easily recognized. Being The-Boy-Who-Lived really sucked arse; everybody knew who he was, and how he looked. Joy.
He hoped that Ron would get away, as they'd been separated when running.
Swearing under his breath, he flicked his wand towards his face, and groaned in pain as the swelling started and contorted his face into an ugly, twisted mask. He thought he must look like his Uncle Vernon, and grimaced further. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

He could hear the shouts and spells as they were shot at him from behind, but he just kept running. Years on the Quidditch team under a psychotic Captain had kept Harry fit, and he was really thankful now that Oliver Wood, his Captain, had been so determined to win the Cup, because otherwise Harry would have been a quivering mass of human, trying to catch his breath on the ground right about now.
He tried to focus through the pain – something he had learned at a young age – and threw a series of defence spells over his shoulder, before tripping over a root, sending a surge of pain up his leg, as his ankle twisted. Harry thought that it might be broken, but couldn't really do anything other than numbing the pain, flinging about a language that could make a dragon-tamer blush.

'Damn.' He thought, as the Snatchers caught up to him. He was brought back to the place where they had first been found, and he was secretly glad. The Snatchers weren't too smart, but Harry thought it would be wise if he just shut his mouth, and listen.
He felt his anger boil to just under the surface as Fenrir Greyback kept cooing over some girl Harry thought he recognized, though he couldn't quite place her. He was just glad that Ron had seemed to get away; he was nowhere in sight.
Sighing with relief, he made some minute movements with his wand that only a really trained eyed could see. The air about the tent began to shimmer slightly, as he put the illusion up. When satisfied, Harry cast three quick spells; one to take down the tent and pack it, one to stuff it into his backpack, and a third to disillusion the pack. Summoning the result, he shrunk it, and stuffed it into his oversized pocket – expanded magically of course.

Focusing back on the situation, he could hear the girl he vaguely remembered, stammering that she was Penelope Clearwater, a half-blood. If Harry hadn't met Penelope, he would have believed her. But they didn't really look all that similar; only if you knew neither of them, was it believable. Behind her, a small group of people were situated, all very thin and beaten up. Harry recognized Dean, a boy from his year and house – they were never quite sure if he was a Muggleborn or a Half-blood; Dean's father had left when he was young, and he had no idea if he was a wizard or not.
In the group, there was also a goblin and a middle-aged man, who looked to be half-dead. His breathing was shallow, and blood was trickling down from his temple. Harry recognized the man from a 'Prophet'article a while ago; he was Dirk Cresswell, the man whom Albert Runcorn – the wizard Harry had been impersonating when infiltrating the Ministry – had sent on the run.

Suddenly, a man from the group of Snatchers, pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out from behind him, and pointed it at Hermi- oh! That's what her name is, Hermione Granger! I remember her, she was a Ravenclaw from a year above, – he thought as her name finally registered in his mind.
"Where did you get this fine thing, Mudblood?" Harry was angered when he said that to her. He hated that term almost as much as he hated Draco Malfoy. Nobody deserved being called a 'dirty blood'. It was just wrong.
He focused again when a boot collided with the side of his face. He groaned as he fell sideways, landing on his arm, and hearing he shoulder pop; he only hoped it wasn't dislocated.
His hands were bound, and he could barely see anything from his obscured face. He felt as if he had been stuck halfway through a Poly-juice transformation, and it hurt.
"Oi, Ugly, I'm talking to you." Grinding his teeth together, Harry just blurted something out.
"It's me dad's, borrowed it fer wood-chopping" Harry put on a fake accent; he just hoped it would throw them off, as everybody knew that Harry-bloody-Potter was as English as they come.
"Who is your father anyway, Hideous?" Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"'E works a' the Ministry; a' the Department of Regulations of Magical Creatures." He just rambled, having no idea how he was going to back all of it up. He just hoped they would leave it.
"Why are you not in school?" Harry was getting tired of the interrogation; the numbing spell he had put on his foot was starting to wear off, and his arm and shoulder was throbbing.
"Graduated last year," he ground out, as the man came nearer. He smelled of blood, sweat and alcohol, but Harry knew that even in that state, he would be able to recognize his scar, if he came close enough. Just as he thought of the scar, a white hot pain shit through it, and he groaned.
"Which house?" The Snatcher was getting suspicious; his eyes had narrowed and he was looking intensely at Harry's forehead.
"Slytherin," he replied automatically. He was in this lie too deep anyway, no way out now.
"Funny," Fenrir Greyback said, as he stroked Hermione's chin, then slicing his nail across her cheek, causing her to whimper in pain, "-how they all think that answer appeases us. Where's the common room?" Harry almost smirked; that one was too easy.
"In the dungeons; you get in through the wall, and it's under the lake, so it has a greenish glow to it." Just then, the Snatcher closest to Harry reached up, and pressed against the obscured scar. Harry yelled out, and swore heavily. Without Luna or Ginny, or even Lisa, around to chastise them, his and Ron's language had become a helluva lot more colourful.
"I think this one might be Harry Potter." Harry almost sighed but kept it in.

"We're taking this lot to the Manor; leave the dead one over there. I'm taking this delicious little thing with me" Greyback took charge, and grabbed Hermione. Her eyes were wide with fear, and Harry swore there and then, that he would protect her at all costs. And once you have Harry Potter's protection, you are under protection alright. Harry would rather die than fail to protect someone, even somebody he didn't know.
They were hauled up; Harry could see that Dirk Cresswell was left behind, and it saddened him to think that a good man was just left there. Dean was unconscious, and the goblin was staring fixated at the sword. That wasn't good, as Harry really needed it to destroy the Horcruxes, but he would deal with that later; right there, his ankle was killing him, and he was trying to form a plan.

-*-*-Malfoy Manor-*-*-

Harry couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy, his number one school-nemesis, who clearly had recognized Harry, told his 'beloved father', lied right to his face- and said he wasn't sure if it was Harry or not. He was almost stunned into silence in his mind, but was quickly snapped out of it, as Bellatrix came to him, and started rambling about calling the Dark Lord.
She then saw the sword, Stunned almost everyone around her, and decided that she needed to know why they were in possession of that particular Sword.
The Snatchers had said that there were two people in the tent, and as Hermione was found nearby – running from another group of Snatchers – Bellatrix decided she must've been the one with Harry.
It was so hard on Harry, trying to think, while listening to Hermione's screams. Then it clicked.
"Kreacher!" he called softly. He hoped his little elf was okay, and that he would come alone. He prayed that Yaxley was too stupid to put a Tracing-charm on Kreacher, as he really needed the elf.

Harry was in the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor, along with Luna, Dean, Mr. Ollivander – the wandmaker – Griphook – the goblin that had taken Harry to his vault for the first time in his life – and now the little creature he had once hated, appropriately called Kreacher.
"Merlin it's good to see you Kreacher. Are you okay? I'm so sorry about Yaxley. Did Yaxley put a charm on you of any kind, Kreacher?" Harry was really relieved to see that he was all right.
"Master, says he is sorry to leave Kreacher, but Kreacher is fine. Yaxley was thrown out by Kreacher, he was, and Kreacher escaped. Kreacher's here to help Master, he is." Harry almost grinned. Kreacher was truly an awesome elf underneath all the craziness. They were interrupted by Hermione's scream as she pleaded with Bellatrix, trying to tell her she had no idea what she was talking about.
"Bring the goblin, Draco!"
Shit!
"That's great Kreacher. Now, Kreacher, I want you to take Mr. Ollivander, Dean and Luna back to the Dean-forest. Take my backpack and put up the tent. It's big enough to host us all, when we get out of here." Kreacher nodded, but just as he was about to answer, they heard someone shuffle down the stairs, and Kreacher disappeared.
Harry fell to his knees before the injured goblin and pleaded with him.
"Griphook, just lie, and say the sword is a fake, please. Please! It's the only way she'll believe, and then maybe we'll all have a chance at getting out alive. Please, Griphook!" The goblin only stared, as Malfoy came down, and instructed them against the wall. The dungeon became sparsely lit, when Malfoy opened the door.
Just as the dungeon door swung shut, Kreacher appeared again, and nodding at his master, took the injured with him to the Dean-forest. Harry hoped Luna or Dean would have enough sense through the shock, to instruct Kreacher to put up protective wards.

The crack resonated through the room, as Kreacher left, and everything went silent upstairs. Harry could faintly hear Hermione whimper, and resolved to save her. She wasn't going to be left here, no way in hell.
Harry was lucky though – it was Wormtail who came down to look what was happening. Harry remembered the words of his late Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, about the lifedebt that Wormtail now owed to Harry, and he wondered if it would come to that. He hoped not.
As the doors sprung open, and Wormtail came in, Harry silently attacked him, wrapping a hand around his mouth, and kneeing him in the back simultaneously. They struggled for a while, until Wormtail got his hand on Harry's throat. Harry managed to grab Pettigrew's wand before he stuttered out that Wormtail owed his life to him. Harry watched with disgust as the hand Voldemort had conjured for Wormtail wrapped itself around his throat and squeezed until the light went out of his eyes. Harry felt a pang of something, to see one of the Marauders go; Wormtail had been one of his dad's best friends, before the treachery.

He jerked a few of Wormtail's hairs off, and was repulsed as the pre-brewed Poly-juice potion bubbled and seethed as it turned into a sickly looking green. Wrinkling his nose, he drank it all, and waited until he was completely transformed. Creeping upstairs he made sure to shuffle the way Wormtail did, and keep his posture as he had seen Peter do before. He needed to be convincing.

What he saw when he came into the large room Bellatrix was using as an interrogation room, almost made him sick. Greyback was panting as he sniffed the blood oozing from Hermione's wounds. She was crying and Harry could hear her throat was raw, as Bellatrix flung another Cruciatus at her. Harry winced; he knew how much they hurt.
"Everything is fine with the prisoners" he squeaked in a very Wormtail-like manor. Bellatrix smiled evilly.
"Hear that princess? Itty bitty baby Potter isn't even going to rescue you; he's too busy saving himself." Hermione just whimpered and twitched a little on the floor.
Discreetly, Harry surveyed the room. Griphook was gripping the Sword of Gryffindor, and Fenrir was playing with the wands he had taken from the captured.
He was going to have to think quickly. Bellatrix was pressing her forearm and moaned as she did so; Harry silently gagged.
Harry had so little time now, he did the only thing he could think of; he silently stunned Bellatrix, and in the confused chaos that followed, he quickly disarmed Fenrir and the Malfoy family. It really did pay off to have trained duelling with both Flitwick and Dumbledore during his 6th year; he was unusually quick with the spells, and was efficient with silent casting. He grabbed the goblin and the bleeding Hermione before running the hell away from that chaos, with people flinging curses at each other, trying to figure out who did what.
He called for Kreacher as he neared the dungeons, and hoped he would make it. He could hear Lucius Malfoy charging after him, and he could feel the effects of the Poly-juice potion wear off. His ankle was killing him, but he ignored it; he had to get them out of there, now.

He reached the dungeons, and saw Kreacher waiting.
"Master, hurry!" they reached the little elf just in time; the door behind them sprung open, as Lucius charged, but Kreacher was already miles and miles away, apparating the group directly into the tent.
Putting down an unconscious Hermione and Griphook who was still clutching the sword, he turned to the three already occupying the tent. Luna was looking as dreamy eyed as always, and Dean looked to be okay- but Harry knew how easy it was to pretend these days; he'd just done it himself.

"Where was the first time, Luna Lovegood and I met?" He was pointing his wand at them, though loosely enough for them not to feel threatened; but if needed, he could still fling a dangerous curse quickly.
"In a compartment on the Hogwarts Express; I was reading the Quibbler and you were with Neville. You were covered in a substance from Neville's plant when Cho Chang arrived." Harry was blushing slightly at the memory, but was satisfied with the answer.
"What football-team does Dean Thomas have hanging in his Gryffindor dorm?" Dean grinned tiredly.
"That would be West Ham." Dropping his wand, he stepped forward and pulled Dean into a quick hug, thumping his back gently. He then took Luna into one as well, but held on a little tighter.
"I've been worried about you, Luna." He whispered in her ear, and he could feel her smile against his shoulder.
Releasing her, he turned to Kreacher.
"Kreacher, would you please find Ron? And bring him here?"
"Yes Master, Kreacher shall find the redheaded master Weasley." Nodding at the elf, who popped away, he turned to Ollivander. The old man was very weak, and Harry knew he wouldn't be up for questioning about wands right now. He helped the man into a bed, and went to fetch Hermione as well. Luna stepped up to help, having taken courses in healing. She advised it might be best to let Hermione sleep for now, and running diagnostics in the meantime. Dean looked battered, but said he would feel slightly better after a shower. Harry pointed him toward the bathroom, which fortunately also held a bath. Wizard-tents were brilliant.

"She's taken a severe beating Harry, both magically and physically. She's been tortured with the Cruciatus and she's been kicked in the ribs a lot, too. Bellatrix Lestrange carved the word 'Mudblood' into her arm, and she's bleeding from many different places. She needs immediate attention, but it'll still be better to leave her unconscious. Since I'm the only one out of the two of us who can cast these diagnostic spells, maybe you could see to her wounds." Harry nodded at Luna, and grimaced slightly. He felt so bad for Hermione.
Luna went to look over Ollivander and help him, and Dean was told to go to sleep right away. Luna looked a little scary when she was so stern.

Harry set to work, pulling out bandages, Essence of Dittany and various potions and medical solutions. He started cleaning the wounds, pouring 5 drops of a wound-cleanser potion into some lukewarm water, and dipping a soft cloth into the mixture. He worked gently and carefully, not wanting to wake her, or hurt her. He had to wake her slightly though, to make her drink a blood-replenishing potion, but she was so out of it, she sell right back asleep. He had to wake her again, to make her drink some Skele-Gro he had taken with him, knowing he had to be prepared. She didn't even open her eyes as she drank, and she was still asleep when he applied the Dittany to her open wounds to stop the bleeding and speed up the healing-process. He had Luna take off her clothes and replace it with one of his clean t-shirts and a pair of jogging pants. When Luna was done, he took over again, bandaging Hermione up, until he was satisfied with his work.

Luna was working on Ollivander, and he had been tortured for months. Though he was still conscious as it was a little time since he had last been tortured, he didn't complain, not even when he had to drink the Skele-Gro – which Harry knew was one of the vilest potions out there. Harry went into the small kitchen, and quickly mixed a meagre meal. Ollivander wolfed it all down though, and soon he too, was asleep.
Luna then moved to the sleeping goblin, checking him over, and bandaging him up, when there was no apparent sign of torture or a beating. He had a cut across his cheek from a dagger, but that was easily fixed.
Harry insisted to check Luna over, and when he found she was mostly fine, except for a few bruises and cuts here and there, he told her gently to go to sleep. She wouldn't have it though, and told him to sit. He closed his eyes and sighed, knowing he wasn't in the best of shapes. He heard Luna gasp, and just raised an eyebrow, not even looking up.
"Harry, your ankle is broken, and the way you have abused it, it's even worse! How you even moved with that is beyond me! Your shoulder isn't far from being dislocated and you have all sorts of cuts and bruises!" Harry barely shook his head at her, half shrugged as if to tell her he was fine. It was nothing really. And she was beginning to sound like Madame Pomfrey.
Luna got to work, making him drink some Skele-Gro, and a blood-replenishing potion. She mixed the same wound cleanser as Harry had done. She worked over him methodically, and when she was finally done, Harry told her to go to bed; he would be fine. His ankle wasn't even hurting anymore. She rolled her eyes at him, mumbling something about stupid hero-complexes, but went to bed anyway.

Harry stayed up all night, watching over the sleeping people in the room, occasionally going to get some water for all of them. He hovered the cups next to their beds, and waited. He waited for morning to come, for Ron to come, for the war to be over.
At around 5 o'clock in the morning, Kreacher popped in with Ron. Ron looked to barely be able to walk, as if he'd been beaten but gotten away. Harry conjured a soft mattress for him, and Ron didn't even need an invitation, he fell right in, and fell asleep, slightly snoring. Speaking softly to Kreacher, he instructed him to go shop food and clothes for all of them, and told him it had to last several weeks. He told him to charge it from the Black Vault Sirius had left him, and Kreacher nodded and popped away; Harry was relieved to have something proper to eat for the next few weeks. He stood up then, and started to walk around in a large perimeter around the tent, casting all the protective spells he could think of. They had to stay here for a while, as almost all of the occupants in the tent were severely injured. Dean was asleep, as was Ron, but they hadn't been checked over, and would have to be first thing in the morning.
Walking back in, Harry sat to watch over his injured. It was beginning to thin out in the darkness – and with it being winter, Harry knew it had to be around 8 o'clock – when Hermione started moaning slightly in pain. She was still asleep, but she was starting to sweat, and Harry thought she might have a fever.
Ron woke, and winced as he moved to get some water to cool her down. He didn't even know how they came to be there, but if they were, Harry must have a good reason, and Ron trusted his best mate with his life.
"Thanks; go back to sleep Ron, Luna will check you over when she wakes, but right now, you need your sleep. We'll talk later." Ron nodded, and as soon as his head hit the soft pillow, he was out.
Harry sat next to Hermione, patting her forehead with the damp cloth, hoping to cool her down. She seemed to be comforted, and fell back into an easy sleep – or as easy a sleep she could at the moment. Harry felt confident that she would be okay, that they would all be okay in the end.