The most destructive element in the human mind is fear. Fear creates aggressiveness. -Dorothy Thompson

Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace and immediately moved behind her couch, looking around frantically

Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace and immediately moved behind her couch, looking around frantically. The front door was open but other than that, nothing had been disturbed. Biting her lip, she cautiously moved to her bedroom and peered in.

“What are you doing here, Hermione?” she asked herself quietly before going into her bedroom. “What are you looking for?”

She looked around her room. She knew he wanted information…

“Oh no…”

She rushed to her closet and began yanking boxes out of it. Boxes that were supposed to be sent to Ron’s apartment….

She shook her head, trying to stay focused.

Where was it?

“It’s not in there, Hermione.”

She whirled around and gasped.

“Oh my God…”

The man standing at her door smiled.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. Hermione backed up a bit.

“It’s you…”

Many years ago, during the War, Hermione had the opportunity to attend a few sessions in which the man before her taught Muggleborns in particular a way to protect themselves from Death Eaters. The man hadn’t shown any interest in annihilating purebloods. He had actually worked with several of them during the war. The two of them had grown to be quite good friends during the war. He taught her so much. But after the war she had received word that he had died.

Hermione mentally cursed herself for being so stupid. The whole time, she was thinking it was some crazed man from the speeches.

John Doe wasn’t an alias. It was a real name.

“I don’t understand…” she whispered. “How… how are you…?”

The man smirked at her and moved a little closer.

“I’m actually feeling great, but that’s not what you meant is it?”

For a moment Hermione just stared at him, then she looked around the bedroom.

“Where is it, John?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“I’m disappointed, Hermione. I would have thought that you have asked why I was doing what I was doing. You obviously thought I was not the person to do such a thing,” he remarked.

“Most of that stems from the fact that you were supposed to be dead,” she replied coolly, looking over at the windows quickly.

John followed her eyes and smiled.

“Some of my people are out side, Hermione, you won’t get four meters before being shot of the roof,” he said.

She sized him up carefully, noting the wand he had at his side before she spoke.

“Why are you doing this then?” she asked.

He moved a little more closer. She backed up into one of the boxes and bit her lip.

“Simple, Hermione. Do you know how Muggleborns get their magic?”

Hermione remained quiet.

“Oh come now, Hermione. You discovered a lot more up there. You know what I’m talking about,” he whispered.

“We get our abilities from the unusual magical surges from the mountains,” she whispered.

“Exactly,” he said. “That means you know why Mr. Orwell didn’t come back as a pureblood.”

Hermione moved away from the closet and inched over to her desk.

“You haven’t answered my question, John,” she responded, not wanting to think about Orwell.

“You haven’t answered mine.”

“I just-”

“Oh please, Hermione. Magical surges? I thought I taught you better than that!” he said. “You know very well that it was not just random burst of magic that gave Muggle parents a magical baby girl.”

“Why are you kidnapping purebloods, John?” Hermione demanded, going through the drawers frantically.

“It’s not in there either, Hermione,” he told her. She looked up at him.

“Where is it?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He then pulled out his wand and flicked it at the object, making it grow bigger until he had a steel basin in his hand. Silvery liquid moved around in it quickly.

“Now, Hermione… give me the memory and I won’t kill Charlie or his wife,” he told her.

“Why do you want them dead?” Hermione asked.

John smiled.

“You know… the one thing I loved about you was your commitment to your friends... I never realized until now how naïve you were though…” he said, setting the basin down and coming over to where she stood. “The wizarding world will never appreciate the achievements of Muggleborns until purebloods are gone.”

Hermione stared at him in shock.

“What?”

“Oh come on, Hermione, you know it’s true! In the papers, it’s always the purebloods that are being nominated for this and awarded this high position! You know that Muggleborns will never be given a chance until all of the purebloods are disposed of. The only place to really do that is place where Muggleborns are given their power.” He smiled. “You see Hermione… I don’t want them dead… I just want them so far removed from their current status that they won’t have any recollection of their former life.”

Tears came to her eyes. She had walked right into a trap. She had done exactly what he wanted her to do…. She had come to him…

“And you need me to take you there…” she finished, paralyzed by what she had just done. He nodded, reaching up and touching her face.

“You see, Hermione. Things aren’t as difficult as that Weasley family is making it. If Ron had just rolled over and died, we wouldn’t be going through this right now.”

Hermione shook her head.

“I’m not going to help you do this, John. There are a lot of innocent people your hurting,” she hissed.

Suddenly John’s good-natured demeanor disappeared, replaced by an outraged flame.

“Innocent!” he growled, grabbing her neck. “Innocent! Is Draco Malfoy innocent?! Is Severus Snape innocent?!”

“Snape joined us,” Hermione gasped, trying to pry his hands off of her.

John’s eyes only grew angrier.

“That man will never be one of us! None of those men and women are innocent! Even your sweet husband is guilty of killing people!” he bellowed.

“He did his job!” Hermione hissed.

John suddenly lost it. He grabbed her by the head and brought it down brutally to the corner of the desk. Hermione screamed out in pain and fell to the floor, the side of her face bleeding.

“THE DEATH EATERS WERE DOING A JOB AS WELL!”

Hermione could feel herself fading in and out of consciousness.

“Then blow up Azkaban,” she mumbled, blinking through the blood.

He laughed.

Hermione felt like throwing up.

“I would have, but Malfoy doesn’t deserve such a glorious ending. Besides, there are a host of purebloods outside of Azkaban that deserve to die as well,” he replied.

“No one deserves to die,” her whispered, looking up at him.

John shook his head in disappointment.

“You know, Hermione… I was hoping we would get along a lot more than this. I was also hoping I wouldn’t have to use force to get the memories out of you, but look where we are… you’re married to one of the men I’m trying to kill. I guess I’ll just have to kill you too…”

He reached down and grabbed a fistful of Hermione’s hair and began to drag her to the bed. Hermione tried to tug herself away but he kicked her in the stomach, causing her to rollover in agony.

“Listen, Hermione… we can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. I suggest you take the easy way, because I’d hate to have to spill too much blood in this flat,” he snarled into her ear.

Hermione whispered something.

“What was that, Hermione?”

She looked up at him.

“I said… I hope it’s your blood,” she gasped out before swinging one of her arms around. John cried out in pain as the blade hit his thigh. He fell away from her and Hermione quickly moved.

She grabbed the basin and stumbled out of the bedroom. She scrambled down the small hallway to the bathroom and almost made it in when she screamed in pain. The blade she had plunged into John was now pinning her hand to the bathroom door. She screamed again when she pulled it out and looked behind her to see John standing at the bedroom door, clutching his leg.

“That wasn’t nice Hermione,” he growled, moving towards her. Terrified, Hermione ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her, locking it, though she knew it wouldn’t do any use. She yanked open the cabinet and prayed that it was still there.

“Hermione!”

The door blasted open and she whirled around. John shook his head in pity.

“There’s no room for purebloods anymore. I’m doing everyone a favor, Hermione,” he said.

Hermione lifted up the basin.

“Here’s a favor,” she said before dropping it. It smashed at her feet before she grabbed the small empty bottle in the cabinet. Three seconds later she was gone.

Ginny watched Ron pace the living room floor like a caged animal. She wished Harry was there, but unfortunately with the Floo system out and since owling was forbidden, they hadn’t been able to contact him.

She bit her lip and prayed that Hermione was okay, wherever she was.

A sudden crash upstairs awoke everyone from their thoughts. They could hear cries of pain as someone tumbled down the stairs and they all gasped when they saw Hermione smash into the ground. Before they could get to her, she struggled to her feet. Her face was bleeding and blood was smeared all over her clothes.

“Hermione-”

“Where the bloody hell were you?!”

Everyone stared in shock and horror at Ron, who seemed to have missed the fact that his wife was bleeding. The terror that had originally been circulating through Hermione was immediately replaced by rage.

“WHAT?”

“You heard me, where were you?” Ron demanded, marching over to her.

Hermione glared at him, all injuries forgotten.

“I went to my flat! John was trying to get the memories of my time at the mountains!” she snapped angrily.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You could have been killed! You don’t just run off when you want to!”

Hermione’s eyes grew.

“I’m standing here bleeding and all you can ask is what’s wrong with me?! John was there, Ron! He was there!”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse if he was there! YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE!” he bellowed.

“Ronald Weasley, what is wrong with you?” Mrs. Weasley demanded, shocked at her son’s behavior.

“Piss off!” Ron shot, glaring at his mother before turning back to Hermione. “You should have known better than to just run off like that!”

“It’s not like you would have noticed if Fred hadn’t of told you!”

Something flooded Ron and he took a step closer to Hermione, forcing her to back up into the wall.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snarled.

“Ron, leave her alone!” Ginny shouted, afraid that he would do something horrible.

“He could have killed me and you wouldn’t have cared,” she snapped.

“Maybe if he killed you I wouldn’t have to deal with your mouth any more,” he retorted.

Hermione slapped him and he reached to grab her, but stopped short.

“Oh my God…” Mrs. Weasley whispered, grabbing Mr. Weasley’s arm for support.

Hermione had Ron’s knife a hairsbreadth from his neck. Both of them were glaring at each other.

“What are you going to do?” he growled.

“I’m beginning to think that John’s right… maybe there is no room for you,” she whispered, her whole body shaking from pain, fear and anger.

Ron moved.

Fred and George, who had been inching closer to the couple, moved faster.

They grabbed Ron and yanked him back before he could reach Hermione.

“You bitch!” Ron screamed. “WHY DON’T YOU GO JOIN HIM THEN?!” he bellowed, struggling against his two brothers.

Hermione remained at the wall. She had stopped shaking.

“GO TO HELL!”

“YOU FIRST!”

“RON STOP IT!” Fred yelled.

Ron suddenly whirled around and struck Fred straight in the face.

“Don’t you dare speak to me!” Ron screamed. “It’s your fault she left in the first place!”

The others tried to grab him but he shoved them all away before turning to leave. As he passed Hermione, she tightened her grip on the knife. The look that he gave her caused her to shrink into the wall, quailing in fear. Then he went up the stairs and disappeared. They heard a door slam shut and a cry of rage rip from his lips.

All eyes fell on Hermione.

She continued to stare at the spot where Ron had just been standing. The knife dropped from her hands.

“Ron…” escaped from her lips and then she crumpled to the ground, her wracked sobs torturing the man who had caused them upstairs.

A/N: ... well... here come the reviews...