Professor, You're Mine!

Professor You’re Mine!


Prologue


September 16, 19XX


“Hermione, we need to talk,” Jane Granger told her only daughter. She had requested that Dumbledore allow Hermione to come home for the weekend so that she could tell her some things about her heritage before her birthday the next day.

“What is it, Mum?” she asked, distracted. She was reading a new potions book that she had just purchased at her favorite store, Flourish and Blotts. This particular book talked about what potions could or would affect certain blood types and lines. She was especially interested in helping to find a cure to lycanthropy so that Remus could have a normal and pain free life.

“There is something that I need to tell you that I have never told you before,” her mother said. She could tell that Hermione was lost in her book. She had been a bookworm since she learned to read at age three. Her thirst for knowledge lead her into several dangerous situations and Jane wondered several times if it had been a good idea to teach her to read at such a young age, or to encourage it the way that they did.

“Oh?” she asked, still not paying much attention. The book was fascinating. Lycanthropy is often confused with transmigration; but the essential feature of the were-animal is that it is the alternative form or the double of a living human being, while the soul-animal is the vehicle, temporary or permanent, of the spirit of a dead human being. Nevertheless, instances in legend of humans reincarnated as wolves are often classed with lycanthropy, as well as these instances being labeled werewolves in local folklore. So did that mean that Remus was already dead? No wait, that’s transmigration, pay attention, she told herself.


“Hermione Granger, put that damn book down and pay attention,” her mother shouted. Gods! What was it going to take to pull her daughter out of that book?

Hermione jumped, dropping her book to the floor. That finally got her attention. Her mother never shouted, and she most especially never swore. “What is it, Mum?” she asked, bending down to pick her book back up.

“I never told you this, but I grew up in an orphanage. My family died in the war and I was sent to the orphanage because nobody would take me in.” It still hurt her to think that her grandfather took in her brother, but wouldn’t take her. The old man was too worried about the Wizarding world finding out about his Squib granddaughter and thinking that their blood was tainted.

“You were adopted? And you knew who your real family was?” Wow! Mum was full of surprises today, she thought.

“Yes. My mother and father died, but I have a brother who is still alive, although, he does not acknowledge me.” She could still remember her brothers smiling face when he found out she would be sent to a Muggle orphanage. He had been thrilled.

“Why?” Hermione asked. She could imagine having a sibling and not wanting to know them.

“Because I am a Squib,” she said.

“What? How can you be a squib? That would mean that your parents are magical?” Hermione demanded. How could her mother hide this from her? She had spent her whole life thinking she came from good solid Muggle stock only to find out differently.

“Yes, they were. They were killed by death eaters who were sent to kill me. They managed to save me, but lost their lives in the process. My brother was taken in by my grandfather on my father’s side, but I was sent to a Muggle orphanage. It was agreed that it wouldn’t be safe for me in the Wizarding world. A Squib is worse than a Muggleborn in most cases,” she said with regret.

“Then I’m not really a Muggleborn, but a half blood?” she asked incredulously. She thought of all the times that Malfoy had taunted her for being a Mudblood and wondered if he would have said anything to her knowing that her mother’s family was magical and she was actually a half-breed. Hermione sighed. Her mother was right, Squibs were thought of poorly. He still would have taunted her.

“My family is magical, but your father is a Muggle.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” she demanded. How could her mother keep something so important from her?

“Because I wanted you to stay safe. My brother is a death eater, and I wasn’t sure if he would come after you or not. He despised me for being a squib, and he would despise you for being my daughter.”

“I have an uncle who is a death eater? Does he know about me?” she gasped incredulously.

“I don’t know. I am not sure if he kept track of me or not. I would assume not or he probably would have approached you at some point just so that he could rub in your face that you weren’t good enough for the family. You have a great-grandfather. He is getting up there in age though, so I doubt he has much time left,” she said thoughtfully.

“Who are they?” Hermione demanded.

“It isn’t really important, Hermione. The reason that I…”

“Not important! How can it not be important? Don’t you think I need to know who they are in case they come after me?” she shrieked. For all she knew, she could be related to the Lestranges or something equally as disgusting!

Jane stared at her daughter for a moment and sighed. She was right. “My brother is Walden McNair,” she said. She shuddered when she said the name out loud. She had spent her entire life trying to forget the pain that he had caused her when she was a child.

Hermione gasped. “God’s, Mum, he’s one of Voldemort’s inner circle! He is the worst sort of wizard!” she cried. That was just as bad as the Lestranges! She had never seen him with his mask off, but she would make a point of looking him up and finding out who he was when she got back to school. She would make sure that he never caught her unaware in case he did know whom she was.

“I know,” her mother said. “That is why I have kept it from you. Have you ever had any contact with him? Has he ever tried to speak to you or approach you?” she demanded.

“He was at the Ministry of Magic when we broke in to get Harry’s prophesy. He was arrested and sent to Azkaban, but then he and several others broke out. He is still at large and wanted. I’ve never personally met him, and he has never acted like he knew who I was other than Harry’s best friend.”

“I doubt he would know. He would feel it was beneath him to search out or acknowledge his Squib sister. As far as he is concerned, I am dead. I just thought that maybe…with the inheritance, perhaps…but no, never mind,” she said.

“What are you still not telling me, Mum?” Hermione demanded.

“Well the real reason that I had Dumbledore send you home is because of the family inheritance.”

“Inheritance? What inheritance? Am I going to get some money or something?”

Jane laughed. “I wish it were that simple,” she said sadly. Hermione was not going to like this bit of information. “Unfortunately, the women in our family, the magical ones, I should say, all receive an inheritance on their seventeenth birthday. We have Veela blood in our veins, dear,” she told her stunned daughter.

“Veela? We are Veela?” she asked in shock. She thought of what she knew about what little she knew about Veelas. “I don’t look like a Veela!”

“Not we, you. I am not magical so the gene skipped me. I was never sure if it had ended with my mother or not. You are magical, so I would assume that you will get the inheritance, and Dumbledore agrees with me.”

“You talked to Dumbledore about this without me?” Hermione was shocked. She felt hurt and betrayed by her own mother. She had just found out that she was the niece of the worst sort of wizard and now she was also going to be a Veela! Good gods, was she going to start acting like Fleur Delacour? That flirty girl had driven her crazy during the Tri-Wizard tournament. Hermione had thought if she had spent more time concentrating on her tasks and less time flirting with all the boys she might have made a better showing.

“I needed his opinion. I didn’t know the first thing about becoming a Veela, or if you would become one. He researched the family line and he is fairly sure that you will get the Veela inheritance. He thinks that because the line skipped a generation and has become diluted that would explain why you don’t look like a Veela. He said that a lot of Veela have the traits and powers, but not the looks. The farther down the line the Veela blood goes, the fewer Veela traits the witch has. He has arranged for a Veela to come and help you through the transition and for you to learn what you need to know. You will also have a mate whom you will have to find and bond with within six months.”

“Bond? Within six month? Mum! I don’t want to get married! I want to go to college and have a career!” she shouted. She jumped up from her chair and started pacing the room. This day couldn’t get any worse. “Who is going to teach me?”

“A girl named Fleur Weasley will be arriving this afternoon.”

“No! No, no, no!” she shouted storming out of the room. “This is not happening to me!”






A/N: This story will not follow cannon, but may contain bits from all of the books, and it will have spoilers from all of them. My characters will most likely be OOC and of course I have twisted their relationships to suit the needs of my story. I love feedback, whether good or bad. If you like my story great, if you don't tell me why. Please don't leave me a review that says the character in the chapter is OOC. All fanfiction charcters are OOC. The author fits the personality to the story they are writing...so anyway, let me know what you think...