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• Captive Audience	By : magentasouth Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 44847 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
  Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from any part of the Harry Potter universe.

• Chapter List
  • 1-Ch 1
  • 2-Ch 2
  • 3-Ch 3
  • 4-Ch 4
  • 5-Ch 5
  • 6-Ch 6
  • 7-Ch 7
  • 8-Ch 8
  • 9-Ch 9
  • 10-Ch 10
  • 11-Ch 11
  • 12-Ch 12
  • 13-Ch 13
  • 14-Ch 14
  • 15-Ch 15 (just edited - no addition)
  • 16-Ch 16
  • 17-Ch 17
• • fast_rewind
  • chevron_left
  • 9
  • 10
  • 11
  • chevron_right
  • fast_forward
• 
  
  
  
  

  Voldemort’s
  subdued, almost melancholy mood lingered on that evening.  He virtually ignored her for hours as she
  inched her way through the, for the most part, revolting curses.  The book gave
  her the strong impression that a collection of depraved minds had sat down and
  earnestly thought about what the most horrific ways to die might be. 
  
  Which was probably the case. 
  
  Voldemort worked at his desk all night while she read.  A dark cloud hung over him it seemed.  His flat face was grimly pinched and his
  brows tight as he seemed almost to physically grapple with whatever it was he was working on.  There was a driven bitterness to it. 
  
  She wondered whether whatever it was that he was so often working on was partly
  to blame for his mood – since she had grown increasingly sure that it was one thing that he kept returning to
  every evening and struggling with.
  
  He had always gotten irritable if she’d asked about it.

  ‘The
  plendis curse’, she read.  
  
  She pulled the corner of her mouth up in a wry half smirk despite the gruesome
  nature of the subject matter.. 
  
  At the side there was a cartoonish picture of a laughing man hacking away at
  his own body with a knife. 

  The curse
  rendered the subject suicidally morose. 
  Self inflicted pain lessened this feeling, to the extent that the victim
  felt wonderfully happy.. elated even.. the more blood they shed.   Hence the laughing man stabbing
  himself. 
  
  The victims of the curse tended to either commit suicide via a fast magical or
  herbological means or would fall into a pattern of cycles: cutting and injuring
  followed by the resulting increased lucidity and the wish to survive, urgent
  healing which only reinstated the emotional torment and immediately led to renewed
  self injury..
  
  It sounded more than a little bleak, she mused. 
  
  
  There was no countercurse, however victims had been preserved for several years
  through controlled and supervised self injury and deliberately prolonged
  healing.  One could not live perpetually
  in that manner though - not least because the victim would become exhausted by
  the constant pain and healing and would eventually opt for a more final method
  of self-dispatch - but also because the curse degraded over time.  The degree of pain and injury required to
  evoke a return to lucidity gradually increased until it was no longer possible
  to attain positive emotion or rational thought at all.

  It
  sounded horrible, she thought.  Who came
  up with that?!  
  
  Well.  Plendis, obviously, she reasoned.  Unless that was the name of the first victim.  It wasn’t specified. 

  She
  glanced up at Voldemort again.  He had
  stopped writing and was leaning back in his chair with a black expression.  It seemed to hold equal parts disgust and
  hatred.   While she watched his hand
  fisted tightly on the arm of the chair and he looked down as if restraining
  himself from an act of violence. 

  She
  thought she must be imagining it - he looked..like tears were sliding down his
  flat face.  Oh dear bloody god!  Was Voldemort crying?!!  What the
  fuck?!  She must be losing her mind!  Imagining this man crying was like trying to
  imagine her mother killing kittens.  What
  the hell could have possibly brought Voldemort to tears?!

  The
  slight glimmer she thought she’d seen on his planar cheeks was gone as if it
  had never been there and his expression cleared as if wiped. 
  
  “Come here.”

  Again she
  blinked, shocked.  He never..ever.. asked her to come to him when he was at the desk.  She’d quickly learned that he did not like
  her going anywhere near it.  He was the
  only one who could near the desk or the bookshelves.  Her place was on the bed.  The rest of the room was for the most part
  off-limits.

  Uneasily
  she shifted to the edge of the bed and got to her feet, moving to his side
  nervously. 
  
  She was dying to just..glance.. to
  the side.. just to see a little bit of what he worked on all the time.. but she
  didn’t.  Just being allowed over here was
  something special.  If she tried to look,
  he’d punish her.  She knew it as surely
  as she knew her own name.
  
  His red eyes were perhaps a bit..shinier.. than usual, she told herself.  Despite his blank expression right now something was bothering him. 

  He
  reached for her and assisted her, after a fashion, to climb up onto his lap and
  straddle him, pressing her down close against his chest and holding her. 
  
  Strangely enough she had the strong feeling that what he sought right now
  wasn’t sexual release.  He held her too
  close.. he was too still.  It was just
  something in his posture that seemed to suggest that sex was the farthest thing
  from his mind.

  He sat
  tightly embracing her against him for several minutes and she started to get
  more and more worried.

  When he
  spoke, his voice possessed a restrained sorrow that she had never heard there
  before.

  “Nagini
  is dead.
  
  I have been anxious for her all evening.. Now I feel her absence.  She has been killed.”

  She
  startled. 
  
  “How?!  She was in that.. that.. jungle
  thing.. in the garden.  Wasn’t she?!  Last night.. 
  There were incredible wards.  Is
  Harry here?!  Oh my god!”
  
  Her mind caught up with herself and she managed the barest gesture of
  humanity.  Lord Voldemort had seemed
  very...attached to the great big frightening snake.
  
  “I’m sorry my Lord...for your loss.  You
  said she was a friend...”

  Voldemort
  sighed against her.
  
  “...Thank you”  He murmured softly after
  a while.  It sounded reluctant.
  
  “Several nights have passed since we were in the garden together, Hermione. It
  was ..convenient.. to assist you to sleep a little longer as I had much to do
  and no time to spend with you in the evenings. 
  Two nights ago I moved Nagini to a location I deemed safer.  I thought it best if my horcrux were far from
  me and difficult to reach.
  
  It appears I was wrong.”

  Hermione
  nodded.  She had not realised that the
  snake was a horcrux.  The extreme wards
  around that part of the garden made more sense now.  
  
  “But.. ..Harry isn’t actually...”

  “No.  He is not here.  Not yet. 
  Although.. it may be mere days now. 
  I feel a sense of foreboding.  He
  will not wait long.”
  
  The dark wizard held her even closer and she thought for a moment that he might
  have sniffed her hair.       
  
  He bent his head and spoke softly against her ear
  
  “If you were obliged to choose between Harry and myself, Hermione... who would
  you save?”

  She tried
  to pull away and look up at his face but he held her tightly against him.  She could feel his face warm against her own.
  
  
  He seemed to want an answer. 
  
  She didn’t have one.

  Obviously
  the correct answer.. the answer he wanted to hear.. was him.  That she’d save him
  rather than her best friend of six years – the nice guy.. the beautiful one.. the one who she’d sworn
  time and time again to fight to the death for.

  “I don’t
  know” she managed to squeak. 
  
  It was the most truthful answer she could give. 
  She didn’t know who she would pick. 
  It felt like whoever she picked, she wouldn’t be able to live with the
  consequences.
  
  “Does it matter?  I’m probably not going
  to be there when it happens.. and I have no wand anyway.  What difference does it make?!”

  She felt
  him take a deep breath.

  “And if
  you had a wand?..
  
  ...if we both stood disarmed and you held the only wand?”

  She felt
  an unhappy clench in her gut.

  “I don’t
  know.”

  She
  wondered seriously what she’d do.  Why
  was he asking this now?  He’d said Harry
  would be coming soon – was he thinking to somehow use her to help defeat him?!
  
  Oh god.. she couldn’t do that.  She
  couldn’t draw down on Harry and curse him in Voldemort’s name.  That idea made her feel like someone had
  kicked her in the stomach. 
  
  But could she curse Voldemort?! 
  
  She didn’t know if she could anymore.  If
  she..wanted to.. anymore.
  
  The world with Harry, Ginny and Ron... versus.. her present life with
  Voldemort. 

  Voldemort
  was worried.  This was the second time
  he’d mentioned the standoff with Harry and sounded uncertain about the outcome.
  

  “Please
  don’t put me in that position” she whispered, unsure if she wanted him to hear
  it.

  “And why
  not?” he returned, silkier than he had sounded a few minutes ago. “To what end
  have I shown you so much affection.. offered you knowledge.. allowed you to
  develop your repertoire of curses? 
  
  You know you would rather remain with
  me than live in a world in which you are subjected to the Weasleys.. the daily
  prophet.. your muggle parent’s inability to comprehend you..
  
  ...Harry Potters utter obliviousness to your feelings for him...His disinterest in you..”

  She felt
  her heart stop. 
  
  It was said so easily.. so cruelly.

  He’d been
  grooming her.. training her.. for months.. to assist him to kill Harry?!! 
  
  She was the one person Harry would never expect.

  She
  remembered his words to Professor Snape.. Seeing her here would destroy Harry.

  Oh god.

  His hands
  moved her now limp form back.  She saw
  that the familiar face wore a dark little smirk.  His red eyes glittered sharply. 

  “What
  truly remains for you in a world in which I am defeated?!  They will never trust you again.. You will be
  alone..” 

  His hand
  trailed up her back and under her hair, fingertips stroking the back of her
  neck in a way that usually made her shiver pleasurably.  When she didn’t respond, they slid further
  up, into her hair, gripping and pulling her head back painfully. 
  
  She winced and closed her eyes, feeling her heart pound rapidly, her breath
  grow shallow. 
  
  He could arouse her so easily.. so effortlessly.  He had truly trained her.  She virtually dripped on command now.  It took a mere touch.. sometimes it took
  nothing more than a look. 

  It was
  possible to detect the warmth radiating off his skin as he neared, his face
  brushing her own, mouth tracing her jaw and then ghosting over her lips.

  “Who will
  please you as I can, Hermione?  Who will ...stimulate you.. as you require?..
  
  The rest of the wizarding world will not understand..  They will not want to discover that you have
  changed - they will protect you.. insulate you. Keep you a perfect, innocent
  muggleborn child forever. 
  
  Every lover you take will treat you as an ornament.. fragile and valuable – to
  be displayed in public.. revered.. worshipped. 
  
  
  ...They will never touch you as you desire to be touch.. hold you as you wish
  to be held..
  
  ...I alone know what you need...”
  
  His pointed tongue darted out and flicked up over her top lip.

  It wasn’t
  true, she screamed out in her mind, even as she accepted the truth of it
  utterly.
  
  But it didn’t matter.  What was one person’s loneliness in
  comparison with the suffering of thousands?! 
  This was a war.

  “Don’t
  ask me to choose” she whispered desperately, feeling the heat of his lips a
  centimetre away from her own.

  “Where
  are you up to in the book?” he breathed against her mouth and she did shiver.

  “It
  doesn’t matter!” she tried. “You said that Harry will be here soon.. if you’re
  only doing this because you want me to curse him – I’m not going to.  I’m not going to fight at all.  You’ve been wasting your time.”

  He closed
  the gap, pressing smooth hot lips against her own.  She could feel the way they turned up in a
  smirk and knew what he was going to do a bare moment before the pain arced
  through her, blinding and sharp. 
  
  He held her tightly, preventing her from flailing, swallowing her scream in a
  deep, hungry kiss.  
  
  The pain ended before the kiss did and she hated herself for the soft needy
  whimper she gave him as he teased her with his skilful tongue.

  He drew
  away, looking down at her appraisingly.

  “What
  curse are you up to in the book?” he repeated. 
  No doubt her next punishment would be more significant if she gave any
  response other than the answer he was looking for now.

  Resigned,
  she answered “The Plendis curse”

  He
  frowned slightly. “That is barely one third of the way through the volume.  Have you been deliberately delaying?!  I have observed you to read much more
  quickly.

  “I was a
  little distracted today.  You said
  ..about Harry coming.. and you’ve been sitting here all night glaring and I
  didn’t know why.  And.. well.. yes.  Maybe I’ve been reading a bit slower than I
  could have.  I’m not looking forward to
  finishing the book.”

  “Well
  then... you shall practice what you have learned every night until you finish the book or Harry Potter arrives to
  disturb our peace.”  He tilted his head slightly
  and smiled again cruelly. 
  
  “Your reading is complete for tonight.  I
  will see five of the curses you have learned and then it will be time for you
  to go to bed.  You will remain here with
  me tonight – and if you do not wish to spend the rest of the night in extreme
  discomfort, I advise you to cast the curses well and without hesitation and to
  abstain from moral pontification for the evening.

  Hermione
  swallowed.  He was using the ‘this is the
  way its going to be’ voice.  There was no
  point in even trying to argue – it would only draw immediate punishment.
  
  Proper punishment.  Not the little flick
  he’d given her for not answering immediately.
  
  She should have read a bit faster.  He’d
  almost surely only decided to be such a complete bastard because she had been
  trying to avoid the unpleasant agreement she’d made.  
  
  If she’d read more than half the book, maybe he would have just let it go for
  tonight.  Maybe he would have laid aside
  his own work and taken her to bed..

  He moved
  her off his lap and to the side, stood and stepped away to the bookshelf..
  opening the door into the storage room. 

  Watching
  nervously as his back retreated, she turned her head a fraction of an inch and
  let her eyes slide down over the papers on the desk.

  At first
  nothing made any sense at all.  There
  seemed to be an array of different seemingly unrelated things.  Her eye fell on two pages.. they seemed to be
  about potions.  They were both in his
  handwriting and there were some scratched out ingredients here and there but at
  the top of one was written – ‘82% success, November’ and on the other ‘61%
  October.’  They didn’t seem at first
  glance to be the same potion.  Or even a
  modified version of the same.  She looked
  quickly at the ingredients.  Some of them
  she didn’t recognise.  In the first
  potion, there was calla leaf and briny squirt gall though.  Those were used in medical procedures
  involving the attachment of magical limbs. 
  Was he working on something for peter Pettigrew?  She had seen the horrible little man’s silver
  hand.  It was creepy.
  
  But Voldemort seemed to despise and disdain him.. why would he bother?! 
  
  The second potion was even more peculiar. 
  It held hallucinogenic
  ingredients.  There was distilled
  mescalin listed!  What the hell?!

  She
  looked on quickly to the next page in the array and found a list of
  spells.   The Avada Kedavra was top of
  the list.  The others... The others she
  recognised too!!  Most of them were in
  the book of curses she had been reading tonight.  One or two were crossed out.  One was crossed out emphatically.  She couldn’t quite make out what had been
  underneath the deep black ink scratches.  
  

  Her eye
  darted up – he would be back any second. 
  She could see his shadow moving toward the door.  Her eye flicked down once more at the next
  pages.  
  
  Without reading them closely she could see that one was a list of names – death
  eaters she presumed since some of them were familiar from briefings.  A lot of those
  were scratched out too.  The page beside
  it held a list of her friends.   All the people she knew.  She didn’t see which of those names were
  scratched out but there were lines connecting some of them. 
  
  He was almost at the door. 
  
  Her eye barely grazed the last parchments. 
  They looked like...pages and pages of incredibly complicated arithmantic formula calculations and
  diagrams.  On the chart on top, the most
  recent one, she presumed, there were dozens
  of variables coded insensibly in runes.. the intricacy of the lines was painful
  to look at.  She experienced a bizarre little
  clench in her heart.  No wonder he’d been
  frustrated and struggling with this if he was working on that.  Calculations with five
  or six variables were difficult.  She’d
  never seen one with more than fifteen. 
  He had sixty or seventy at least!  There were hundreds of different lines in
  those charts!  Good god!  He was brilliant!  Why couldn’t he have been...someone else..
  someone who didn’t become Lord Voldemort?! 
  If he’d gone into research.. if he’d worked in the ministry even! 

  “Step
  back!” he hissed coldly; his gaze dark as he moved through the doorway.  “I trust your curiosity is now sated?!  Move away from the desk.”

  She
  stiffened, frightened.  He’d caught
  her. 
  
  No, she realised, he’d known.  He’d expected her to look before he went
  away.  He’d allowed it!. 
  
  She stepped back quickly, lowering her eyes submissively and wondering why
  after all this time he’d allowed her a brief peek at what he’d been working
  on.  He’d reacted so violently to the
  idea before.

  “Your
  continual preoccupation with it was like an itch in my mind, Hermione.  Now you see and can appreciate that you are
  presently incapable of offering me
  any assistance.  Your current level of
  skill in runes and arithmancy is insufficient to be of use.
  
  ...Do not concern yourself further with it. 
  I have almost resolved the imbalances. 
  My work is nearing completion.”

  Beyond
  her control, her eye slid back up to the ridiculously complicated arithmantic
  chart.  She couldn’t make out any detail
  from here.  It was a spirograph of lines. 
  
  He’d solved that?!  It was almost beyond the realm of
  possibility.  He’d calculated a formula
  to balance all of those points?!

  “Very
  nearly” he said dismissively and stalked over to her, holding her wand in his
  hand.  “There are only one or two points that
  have proven troublesome.  However.. I
  believe I can modify them sufficiently to solve the problem”

  Her
  curiosity flared again sharply.  She
  desperately wanted to understand everything about that chart.  What were all the points?  What was giving him trouble?  What was the entire chart about?! 
  Was he trying to forecast or to strategise?! 

  His
  expression softened slightly and he reached up, stroking a finger down her
  cheek. “Sweet Hermione..  You are incapable of turning your mind away from
  things you do not understand..”  He drew
  her close, gently, till her cheek was pressed against the warm robes on his
  chest.  She expected to feel apparition
  but instead he sighed. 
  
  “I suffer from the same malady.”  His
  fingers played at her curls. 
  
  “Do not despair.. one day, after the matter with Potter is resolved, I shall
  explain to you exactly what I have been working upon.  I will foster your development until you are
  able to comprehend the reasoning behind my decisions.”

  She
  thought about that with uncertainty.  He
  was suggesting she’d never know unless Harry died. 
  
  That thought bothered her a lot. 
  
  With a shock she realised that it was because subconsciously she expected Harry
  to win!  She still thought that he was
  going to defeat Voldemort!  Her heart
  fluttered, panicked.  She didn’t want
  this brilliant man to die.

  As if he
  did not hear or were ignoring her thoughts he continued on, the soft murmur
  barely vibrating the chest beneath her ear
  
  “However.. at present.. I require your focus elsewhere.  Show me that you are capable of casting the
  curses I have set you.  Show me that you
  have the strength of will to end life, even when you would not choose to, if
  the option were given.  You have made an agreement, Hermione.. Show me that you
  can uphold your promises.”

  Hermione
  shivered, thinking of the other
  promises she’d made to Harry.. Ron.. Dumbledore.. to herself..

  Apparition
  squeezed them both through the eye of a needle with a faint crack

   

  The
  dungeons again.  She could tell by the
  smell. 

  This was
  a larger room.  Torches flared as they
  arrived and she slowly unfolded herself from his chest, not eager to see what
  would await her here.

  Turning,
  she realised that he’d obviously had this prepared.

  Five
  people.  Five victims.  She’d agreed to
  five.  There were precisely five
  here. 

  And she
  knew every single one of them.

  They were
  silenced it seemed, but from the look of horror on most of the faces at her
  gauzy green dress and silky styled hair..at the way she had been holding.. had
  been held by Voldemort – it was clear
  they were disturbed.

  Well..
  Except for Luna..
  
  Luna peculiarly enough, gave the impression that she had expected this.  She offered a small wave, her chains
  clinking, looking otherwise exactly as she would have if Hermione had run into
  her in the library. 
  
  She and Luna had never been..close..
  
  Hermione had always thought Luna was a bit unbalanced, in fact – although
  obviously she disapproved of the derogatory nicknames. 
  
  The girl frustrated her.  She would
  explain carefully with reasoned logical arguments how the ridiculous imaginary
  creature that Luna was telling them all about could not possibly and did not exist. 
  
  Luna would listen to everything she said and then would shrug and smile and go
  on telling them about it.  Her reasoning
  was not RATIONAL.  Hermione could not
  handle people like that.  The slight
  smile on Luna’s face right now was only further evidence that the girl was not
  quite sane. 

  Professor
  McGonagall, next to her, was shocked.. stunned even, to see Hermione..  Obviously, she hadn’t expected this at all. 
  Since she had known that Hermione had been abducted, it suggested that
  she must have assumed she was dead. 
  Seeing her former student apparently unharmed in the Dark Lord’s arms
  was not evoking a relief reaction.  In
  fact disbelief and disappointment flickered back and forth on her face.  Hermione could see that the woman was trying
  to convince herself that it was a ruse. 
  A trick of the Dark Lord to upset them all further.
  
  Her teacher looked virtually untouched. 
  As if she had been plucked from the head table over breakfast.  She still wore her robes.  Barely a hair out of place. 
  
  Seeing Professor McGonagall here was upsetting even without the added pain that
  she was shortly going to be asked to kill
  her.  The Professor had always been
  something of a mentor to Hermione. 
  
  She was such a reasoned and sensible person – and she’d always taken the time
  to answer any questions Hermione had had. 
  She might have gone to Professor McGonagall for an apprenticeship, had
  the world been other than it was.. 
  Swallowing, Hermione looked away from her.

  On her
  Professor’s right, Hagrid was manacled at neck, wrists and ankles to the
  wall.  He was shaking his head slightly,
  looking riotous and she could make out what his lips were saying.  “No! 
  No!  Not ermione.  I don’ believe it.”  He struggled at his chains but they were
  solid and unbreakable.  They clinked
  heavily. 
  
  Hagrid looked like he’d been through a rough ride in a cement grinder.  He was covered
  in bruises and cuts.  His clothing ripped
  and torn.  Her heart clenched, looking at
  him.  So many afternoons spent with Harry
  and Ron, all three of them avoiding Hagrid’s inedible little cakes and laughing
  about something together.  Hagrid was
  almost like.. family.  She..couldn’t
  hurt him. 

  Remus
  Lupin, chained next to Hagrid, looked like the slightest breeze might blow him
  away.  He was painfully thin, he looked..broken.. 
  His shocked eyes upon her were nonetheless heavy with terrible
  understanding.  He nodded at her and
  almost tried to smile.  It came across as
  queasy. 

  She felt
  her face crumple in distress. 
  
  Why was she doing this again?!  What
  possible reason could there be for hurting any of these people?

  Remus
  looked so.. tired.. so..unhappy.. Resigned to what was coming. 

  The person
  next to him was not so composed.  Molly
  Weasley was almost purple with rage and threw herself forward in her chains as
  if she wanted to attack them both.  She
  was screaming something silently. 
  Hermione didn’t even want to imagine what she might be calling her. 
  
  Molly had always been politely stand-off-ish toward her at best; at worst
  outright insulting.  Hermione remembered
  in fourth year when Ron’s mum had believed the horrible rumours started by Rita
  Skeeter.  She’d always had the feeling
  that Molly thought that she was not quite good enough.  That she was... subtly looked down upon.  No doubt, if anything had ever happened
  between Ron and herself, Molly would have fought tooth and nail against
  it. 

  Nevertheless..
  was that a reason to kill her?!  It wasn’t as if she would ever have anything
  to do with Ron anyway. 

  She felt
  a hand on her shoulder and looked up, blinking away sudden tears.
  
  Voldemort was looking down at her with something like compassion on his face.
  
  Behind it, there was calculation.

  “Will you
  select who is to be first, or shall I?” he asked quietly.

  She shook
  her head, her face tight.  It wasn’t
  really an answer.  More a general
  denial.  A statement of how little she
  could even begin to cope with this.
  
  Why?!  Why did he have to be so cruel?!

  Unexpectedly,
  rather than cursing her, Voldemort turned her gently and pulled her back
  against him, as she had been when they had apparated in.  She couldn’t help clinging and losing her
  grip on her distress, bursting into tears against his robes.  A warm hand stroked her back over the gauzy
  dress. 
  
  “I understand that it is difficult, Hermione” he murmured softly against her
  hair. “I have not selected these five purely
  to be cruel.  Yes.. it should be a test of
  your strength and resolve.. but there are practical
  reasons for their elimination.”

  She shook
  her head against him.  There
  weren’t.  There were no reasons to kill
  Hagrid or Remus.. or her Professor or even a crazy seventeen year old girl or
  Ron’s somewhat bitchy mother.

  “These
  five.. represent a threat irrespective how the duel with Potter might end”
  Voldemort insisted quietly. 

  “Assuming
  I defeat Potter - McGonagall has taken over leadership of Dumbledore’s little
  terrorist group and has been doing rather a good job.  I have been trying unsuccessfully to acquire
  her for months.”

  Hermione
  furrowed her brow.  Why would Professor
  McGonagall lead the order?!  What was
  Professor Dumbledore doing?!  Had he gone
  with Harry somehow? 

  Hagrid
  has been courting the favour of the Giants – a faction which could make a
  decisive difference in the war.. Lupin, too, has been stirring discontent
  within the werewolves and the Lovegood girl has been providing information and
  articles to her father... engaging in a propaganda campaign. 
  
  ..Molly Weasley is the strength of Arthur – one of the most obstinate and least
  corruptible icons in the Ministry.  Without
  her, he would be easily manipulated out of fear for his children’s lives. 
  
  And ...in the..unlikely.. case that
  Potter were to defeat me.. You would find each of them constituted a threat to
  you personally.”
  
  He paused. 

  She
  couldn’t help stiffening as she thought over what he had said.  Unwillingly.. she could see the rationality
  in removing them.. when seen from his perspective. 
  
  But they were..friends.. damn
  it.  They were her friends!  They wouldn’t
  threaten her personally if Voldemort was killed. 

  “In the
  aftermath of my defeat.. Ronald Weasley would pursue you, as you yourself
  recognise, Hermione.  And as a result,
  Molly Weasley would seek to discredit you rather than allow your dirty blood to
  sully their pure line.  Though Arthur is
  rather patronisingly fond of Muggles, there has never been so much as a halfblood in the Weasley or Prewett
  bloodlines.  Molly will not allow that to
  change.  She would embark upon a
  “witch-hunt”, if you’ll pardon the term, to destroy you before she would allow
  it.”

  Hermione
  looked up, startled.  She didn’t want to
  believe it, but part of her acknowledged that it was probably true!  She should have considered that herself.  Perhaps on some level she had realised it but
  dismissed it.  
  
  And Ron was so obstinate and idiotic, he’d refuse to see what was happening and
  would keep chasing after her even if she said she wasn’t interested.  Or he’d get nasty – both of which would
  result in Molly doing all she could to hurt her

  She
  blinked and drew back, looking blearily up at Voldemort.  He nodded once slowly and offered her a soft
  smile, wiping away her tears with the smooth pad of a thumb and pulling her now
  damp curls out of her face

  “Luna
  Lovegood then..  You view her as
  unstable.. foolish..  Yet – she is a Ravenclaw.  She sees things that others generally do
  not.  She would recognise the change in
  you immediately.  It would interest her..
  as a puzzle.  She would discover
  you.  Perhaps she might reveal her
  observations.. perhaps not.  There is the
  possibility she could choose to do so in her father’s newspaper, before the
  entire wizarding world.  That constitutes
  a risk, do you not agree?”

  Hermione
  turned her head, looking to Luna with a slight frown.  Luna was watching them both with a faint
  smile, her expression thoughtful.

  Yes.  Ok. 
  Possibly he was right.  Luna often
  seemed to just know things that other people hadn’t recognised.  Luna had come up to her once when she was
  feeling miserable because Ron had gone to Hogsmeade with Lavender and she’d
  told her she shouldn’t cry because she was very lucky not to have what she
  wanted. 
  
  At the time she hadn’t really been in a particularly receptive mood to Luna’s
  cryptic tripe and no one was even supposed to know she might possibly fancy Ron
  a bit.  No one else had noticed anything.. but Luna apparently had and had understood
  so much more about the situation than Hermione that she had tried to cheer her
  up by telling her she was better off without him. 

   Yes. 
  Luna might maybe notice that she was a bit.. depressed... or something..
  if Harry killed Voldemort.

  She
  wasn’t naive enough to think that she wouldn’t be utterly shattered if the man
  currently holding her were to die.  It
  didn’t matter that he was a genocidal monster. 
  He was her entire world.

  “Lupin...”
  Voldemort purred, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead, drawing her
  attention back from where it rested upon Luna.
  
  “Lupin tries to be a good man,
  Hermione.  Thanks to neuroses about his
  halfbreed nature, he holds himself to a higher moral standard than most
  others.. Merlin forbid he allow his darker wolf nature to shine through. 
  
  He is a man plagued by guilt and insecurity. He is also Potter’s
  godfather.  He would do whatever it takes
  to protect him.  Potter is his pack. 
  The only one he has so defined who still lives. 
  
  In the wake of your extended stay with me he would smell the change in you.. the dark magic.. the loss of innocence..  Perhaps he might wish to believe the best of
  you initially.. but he would plague you to talk with him about what happened
  here.  He would be..’there for you’
  constantly.. and he would watch you suspiciously
  for any sign of unusual behaviour.
  
  You are a very different witch than you were when you first came to me.  And yet you are still so innocent that you
  would lack the ability to adequately conceal your changes.  He would discover you and then he would be
  inwardly morally torn.  In the end he
  would expose you.  It would be the ‘right thing’ to do.   Perhaps he would persuade himself that you
  are..ill..and require treatment.  In
  truth however, you would constitute a threat to Potter in his eyes and pack
  always comes first for a wolf.”

  She
  turned to Lupin and noted that the man had turned his eyes down and looked
  saddened.  He nodded slowly,
  acknowledging it too and then glanced up at her.  His eyes flicked between herself and the Dark
  Lord, and seemed for a moment painfully confused before he looked down again
  and his expression cleared back to the weary resignation he’d worn before.
  
  She could almost hear his thought.  He
  had let go of his bewilderment, reasoning that it would not matter soon.  He had accepted that he was going to be killed.

  “Did you
  know, Hermione.. that Minerva and Hagrid attended Hogwarts at the same time as
  myself?” 

  She
  hadn’t.  She’d only known that Hagrid had
  been at school at the same time as him. 
  She looked at him quickly and then looked back at Professor McGonagall 

  “Hagrid
  was a year below me.  Minerva was two
  years above me. She was head girl in her final year.  If you can believe it – she was actually
  something of an inspiration to me... When I was in my fifth year I learned much
  through observing her failures and successes as head girl.  Primarily her failures.  Although an exemplary student, she was not
  especially well liked, and although she was.. to a certain degree feared by the younger students, she was
  not respected.  She was too officious and chilly to truly win
  the support of the student body.  She was
  also physically unimpressive, inexplicably preferring to hide every appealing
  physical feature she possessed as if she resented the fact that others could be
  influenced by physical attraction.”

  Hagrid looked
  ropeable and seemed to be yelling something. 
  Minerva ruffled herself mildly and narrowed her eyes at Voldemort, as if
  trying to imagine for a second the boy she must still remember.

  “There
  has always been a lot of bad blood between myself and Hagrid” The silky
  woodwind voice above her informed her.
  
  “I was responsible for his expulsion.. the snapping of his wand..”

  Hermione
  had known this.  Harry had told her about
  it in second year.  Still..  to hear him say it himself...

  “It was
  actually an accident...  The mudblood..
  that is.. muggleborn..” He smiled
  thinly down at her  “The thrice damned
  girl was hiding in the room while I summoned the basilisk from the Chamber of
  secrets.  I did not realise she was there..
  until it was too late.  Then it was done
  and I was faced with a dead body on school grounds.

  Hermione
  scowled at the phrasing he’d used.  As if
  it was not the fact that he’d killed someone that was problematic, but the fact
  that it had happened at Hogwarts.  And he
  meant it exactly like that, she knew. 
  She could just imagine how “inconvenienced” he’d found himself after
  accidentally killing Myrtle.

  “I could
  hardly allow myself to be expelled!  They
  would have snapped my wand!! 
  
  I considered feeding her to the basilisk, but the absence of a body would not
  have satisfied the Aurors.. it would not have held Dumbledore at bay.  There had to be a convenient explanation for
  her death..
  
  ...and the great oaf was always so fond of keeping dangerous creatures... 
  
  He was mediocre in his classes.  No great
  loss to the wizarding world.. and in the end it worked out best for all. 
  
  Hagrid wanted only to work with his beloved beasts – and that is what he spent
  his life doing.  I wanted to advance
  magical knowledge.. and on so many fronts, I have done so.
  
  An unfortunate mishap, rectified to the advantage of all.”

  It was a
  testament to just how much he must have warped her mind that Hermione found
  part of herself agreeing with the logic. 
  To take away Voldemort’s magic would have been a waste of brilliance.

  “You
  could have run...” she whispered.

  “And make
  do without my NEWT’s?” he asked incredulously. 
  “I could not have gained legitimate access to the magical sites I
  visited after graduation without them. 
  Several of them were extraordinarily highly regulated and required
  formal application to access... Had I been unable to apply as a legitimate
  graduate student, It is possible I might have lost the opportunity.  Ashkentra, for example, was a parselmouth and
  had kept hidden a number of highly informative chambers in his lost temple –
  Including his library.  I have learned
  wonders that no other will ever
  know. 
  
  No.. I regret nothing, Hermione.  And
  this is a deviation from the point at hand. 
  
  
  Hagrid has always been Dumbledore’s’ and.. to a lesser degree Harry’s ally.. Ron and yourself were
  incidental.  He is admittedly dim.. but
  If he had discovered your ...feelings...for
  me.. perhaps through one of the others.. If he had realised that you were truly
  mine.. he would have reacted in a
  manner more similar to Molly Weasley than Lupin.  His hate for me is still strong.  However he is not a diminutive little red
  haired witch, he is an eight foot half-giant without the use of magic.  I can see him shaking you... lashing out.. forgetting how small and fragile you
  are.. I can see him killing you.. He would not intend to, certainly..  Nevertheless...” 

  Hermione
  swallowed thickly.  “He wouldn’t have..”

  Hagrid
  looked unsure of himself.  His eyes were
  wide and fixed on hers.  He dropped his
  straining arms abruptly to his side. The thick chains.. thicker than her arm..
  clanked heavily again. 
  
  She wasn’t sure whether she quite believed Voldemort’s assertion about Hagrid
  but it was clear that Hagrid himself was considering whether it might be
  possible.  He looked stricken and afraid.

  “Whether
  he might have restrained himself is a moot point.  He would not support you over Harry and he
  has an inability to preserve secrets.  If
  he learned of someone’s – perhaps Remus’.. perhaps another’s suspicion, he
  would be discussing it with complete strangers at the leaky cauldron within
  days.  The man is unreliable, Hermione,
  however much you may ‘feel sorry’ for him.
  
  ...So ..to Minerva finally... 
  
  A stickler for the rules, now as ever. 
  She would have advocated subjecting you to interrogation in the wake of
  your rescue..purely as a formality, you understand.  She would never have truly suspected you of
  betrayal.  She would however have persuaded Harry to follow protocol.  He is an impressionable boy.   
  
  If you were interrogated under veritaserum.. Azkaban would be a matter of
  certainty, obviously. 
  
  I am unsure whether Harry’s influence would be sufficient to free a murderess
  who was also Lord Voldemort’s lover..” 
  He smirked faintly, his crimson eye roved over her suggestively.
  
  He hesitated then and the smirk drew down into a thoughtful expression.
  
  “Assuming the boy even tried, that is... 
  It is likely that the shock might drive him far from you.. He could turn
  upon you just as the others would. 
  
  Minerva is therefore...dangerous.  Without her influence, Harry would protect
  you if you asked him to.”

  She did
  see what he was driving at.  And
  ..perhaps.. he had made some pertinent arguments.  They were dangerous to him if he prevailed.. and they were dangerous to her if he did not. 
  
  Still..
  
  Seeing that and picking up a wand and cursing
  them were two different things, weren’t they.

  “No
  Hermione.  It really is quite
  simple.  When you perceive an existential
  threat – you must act without hesitation to remove it.  And that is what you are here to do. 
  
  I could dispatch them.  Certainly.  But I wish you to do so.   Show me that
  you have the sense to protect yourself.. Show me that you are capable of
  obeying me even when the task is distasteful to you.”
  
  He examined her with narrowed eyes, apparently noting her continued reluctance.

  “Perhaps..
  we might begin with..Molly.”  He prompted, turning her slowly so that she
  leaned with her back against his chest. 
  He pressed her wand into her hand gently, then leaned close and
  whispered against her ear “Morriers modified internal disintegration
  curse.  I wish you to use the original -
  not Grigori’s version”

  Her mind
  rebelled against the instruction.  She
  knew which curse he meant.  She knew how
  to cast it.  But it was a horrible thing.   It was horrendously painful and took minutes
  to kill.  Anheus Grigori had made its
  progress ten times faster.  Grigori’s was
  the more humane spell.
  
  She felt the thrum of her magic.  Holding
  her wand was comforting in an illogical way. 
  She felt, irrationally, as if she had more control over the situation
  simply because she held it. 
  
  Voldemort’s arms wound around her waist gently, holding her to him.  He kissed the side of her neck lightly.  She wasn’t sure anymore whether this was a
  comforting lover’s embrace or a parody of such. 
  He was not bothered at all by killing. 
  Perhaps this was..romantic.. or something.. to him..  Sharing this little moment together. 
  
  It certainly seemed to disgust three of her ‘victims’.  Remus was not looking up at her and Luna just
  looked clinically interested But Minerva and Hagrid looked revolted and Mrs
  Weasley herself looked like she wanted to spit on her and curse her.
  
  Hermione grimaced slightly and tried to steel herself to raise the wand. 
  
  Her hand just did not want to rise up to point at Mrs Weasley.

  “Hermione..”
  he admonished softly.

  When she
  continued to delay, struggling with herself, he raised a pale hand and casually
  waved off the silencing spell on Molly Weasley wandlessly. 

  The
  woman, who had been mid silent-rant, was suddenly audible. Hermione flinched at
  the harsh sound of the familiar voice.

  “-ALWAYS KNEW YOU WERE A FILTHY CORRUPT
  THING.  I tried to tell Arthur that we
  needed to keep Harry and the children away from bad influences like you.  A greedy manipulative, SLATTERNLY little mudblood.. but then your kind are all
  animals.  To think you’d even gap your
  legs for a...a...creature like that..
  The murderer of the wizarding world.  Not
  even human.  You’re worse than a death
  eater.  A death eater has PRINCIPLES.. You’ve betrayed us all!  The
  dementors kiss is too good for you!  If
  you think I’d let you pollute my family.. you’re not even good enough to speak to real witches and wizards.  To think – you sat at our table. I allowed you to sleep in
  Ginevra’s room with her.  I should never
  have listened to Arthur.  I should have
  stuck to what I knew was right.  If I’d
  have had my way in the beginning, this wouldn’t be happ-“

  Voldemort
  silenced Molly again and then returned his arm to the other one holding
  her.  She was shaking. 
  
  “You see, Hermione?  Why are you
  hesitating?  The woman has clearly stated that she would, if she had had
  her way, have separated you from your friends when you were only eleven.  She has hated and looked down upon you from
  the first moment – before meeting you, most likely.. She would harm you, no matter how kindly you might
  treat her.” 

  Hermione
  saw.  And it was the unfairness of it,
  more than any actual reciprocated hate, which raised her arm slowly till her
  wand was levelled at Molly.

  The woman
  shut up and looked quite horrified for a moment, but the expression soured into
  contempt.  Hermione couldn’t hear what
  she was saying but she imagined that it was something nasty.

  ”Istirpinkite viduje”  she whispered numbly.

  A pale
  blue whisper of light flashed from her wand and struck the Weasley matriarch in
  the middle of her large pillowy bosom, knocking her back against the stone wall
  behind, where she sagged for a moment in her chains before her hands flew to
  her chest, clenching, pressing.  It
  reminded Hermione of someone having a heart attack or a very bad case of
  indigestion.  

  Hermione
  couldn’t hear the screams but she saw the woman’s mouth stretched wide and her
  chest moving like a bellows.  She was
  clearly screaming her lungs out.  Well..
  probably.  Mrs Weasley’s lungs, along
  with every other internal organ, were currently converting themselves into a
  very fine powder, so it was debatable.

  Voldemort
  kissed her below her ear and his arms around her tightened momentarily as if
  cuddling her. 
  
  “Good girl” he whispered against the curve of her ear and she couldn’t help
  shivering at the sensation.  The Dark
  Lord must have felt her reaction because his hot tongue flickered out a moment
  later and teased her again. 
  
  Even though she was watching Molly Weasley drop to her knees, the light fading
  from her eyes, she couldn’t help the shudder of pleasure.  It was as if he’d trained her body to respond
  independently of her mind.  She could not
  help becoming aroused when he touched
  her.  It felt dangerous and sweet and
  yes.. dark.. 
  
  Whether from Voldemort’s teasing..or perhaps more likely, from the use of the
  dark magic..so much darker than the other curses she’d used
  on Pansy and the muggle.. she felt like her entire body was humming with wild
  joy.  It was the kind of joy that comes
  from closing your eyes when riding a bicycle.. A frightening and dizzying
  pleasure that you know will most likely end badly. 
  
  It made her ache for the powerful man behind her, holding her so tightly.
  
  He was right.  No one else would ever be
  able to give her what he could.  She
  wanted him.  All the time she wanted
  him.  It was a hunger that was never
  satisfied.  Even now, with Mrs Weasley’s
  lifeless corpse slumped at her feet, her sex was damp and her inner muscles
  tensing in want of the man who’d commanded her to kill.

  And as
  Remus’ head shot up, his nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing, shock all over
  his face, she knew he knew she was
  aroused.  He could smell it.  Shame washed over her like a tidal wave.

  “Silver
  needles curse” was whispered against her ear, punctuated by a small kiss, and
  she tried to tell herself that the soft purr of the man behind her didn’t make her long to get this over
  with so that she could have him inside her again. 

  Remus
  looked terribly afraid.  He had heard the
  whisper, she guessed.  The silver needles
  curse was even less humane than the painful internal disintegration curse.  It caused hundreds of silver needles to fly
  from the caster’s wand into the victim’s body, where they would swim and jump
  and play like trout in a crowded river. 
  In the end the victim’s body ran with blood, threaded inside and out
  with tiny holes.  Sometimes the needles
  swam up the throat to the head and in and out of the mouth, nose and eye
  sockets, but they would never attack the brain cavity - a modification intended
  to preserve suffering for as long as possible

  “No..
  something else.. please!!” she whimpered. 
  “Remus doesn’t deserve that.”

  The arms
  around her tightened, the small show of strength transforming the embrace into
  something claustrophobic. 
  
  “Do as you are told” he instructed coldly   
  

  Her hand
  shook and she tightened her clammy grip on her wand. 
  
  “please..” she whispered and used the word that he liked to hear most of all -
  “please...Master. For me.. if not for him..”

  Remus
  eyes met her own and behind the surprise she detected something like
  gratefulness in them. 

  “For the
  sake of argument...Which spell would you favour?” the high cool voice behind
  her asked curiously.

  She tried
  to think.  Something painless.. something
  painless.   Her mind went to the most
  recent spells she’d seen – those listed on the parchment she’d seen on the Dark
  Lord’s desk.
  
  “Xerces eraser?” she tried hopefully.

  Voldemort
  snorted disdainfully.
  
  “A very ..compassionate.. spell.  I
  thought as much”

  “Please..”
  she murmured, turning her head to look up at him. 
  
  His marble white flattened face was unreadable. 
  Crimson eyes were narrowed upon Remus Lupin but slid down to her a
  moment later.

  “If I
  allow it.. you will use its brother upon the half-giant”

  She
  stiffened.  The spell he was referring to
  was a melting curse.  Xerces had first
  created his eraser, which did just as it promised, it erased the victim in a
  smooth progression from top to bottom. 
  There was no pain, the victim might as well have been vanished.  Its brother was a modification.. a nasty modification to the curse, which
  the dark wizard had obviously felt to be too humane.  Instead of vanishing, it melted flesh to
  liquid that then evaporated, much like a paraffin candle.  And more importantly, instead of moving from
  the top down, i.e. taking the brain first.. it began from the bottom and moved
  upward.  It was terribly painful.
  
  She was fairly certain that both of
  Xerces curses had been on Voldemort’s list. 
  
  
  As had the silver needle curse for that matter. 
  
  
  Yet she did not have the feeling that the list represented a narrowing down of
  the spells he might ask her to perform tonight. 
  The killing curse had been on the top of the list, for a start!   It didn’t seem to add up exactly. 
  
  While she tried to remember more spells that had been on the parchment and
  think of commonalities between them, her eyes wandered up to rest upon
  Hagrid.  No doubt he hadn’t the faintest
  idea what spell was being referred to. 
  Remus was trying to speak.  He was
  shaking his head so she assumed he wanted her to refuse Voldemort’s
  ‘compromise’. Hagrid next to him was just looking confused and worried. 

  “Decide”
  The familiar woodwind voice demanded quietly. “One will suffer, the other will
  die ..comparatively peacefully.  Which halfbreed is more deserving of mercy?”

  The
  understanding, compassionate, resigned
  look in Remus’ eyes was painful to see. 
  She realised that she was basing her decision not upon who deserved more
  mercy – because, really - they both did. 
  Neither of them should even be here. 
  She was deciding based upon
  comprehension.  Remus understood the
  curse being discussed and had given his acquiescence.  Hagrid had not.  She didn’t want to face the shock on Hagrid’s
  face for several minutes as he melted, wracked by inhuman agony. 

  “Cerebrianie stejkie” she whispered
  hollowly, her wand trained on Remus.

  She felt
  a sudden vibration go up the wood as the needles erupted from the point and
  flew like locusts toward the werewolf.  When
  they reached him and dove beneath his flesh she couldn’t watch.  Knowing she was a coward and a traitor to her
  friend, she quickly moved the wand to aim at Hagrid and let fly Xerces eraser.  Then she closed her eyes tightly, sickened by
  the mad rush of pleasure through her body which she now could no longer tell herself came from the embrace of the Dark
  Lord... No – it was the dark magic.  The
  manic joy she was feeling was the taint sinking into her magical core.  It was the madness that had driven Bellatrix
  Lestrange loopy long before Azkaban had wilted her beauty. 
  
  The sensation of corruption, she was
  unable to deny, felt so..so.. delicious. So wrong and damned and unnatural but
  so inescapably..seductively.. pleasurable.   
  
  
  She heard Voldemort’s delighted laugh behind her but thankfully, Hagrid and
  Remus remained silenced so there were no screams. 
  
  She could almost tell herself it wasn’t happening if not for the heavy dull
  clanking that her mind extrapolated was the sound of Hagrid’s manacles falling
  down against the wall as they were no longer held up by limbs.

  It must
  be over, she thought, when she was nudged to face further to the left.  She risked a peek.   Hagrid was entirely gone, as if he’d never
  been there at all.  The relief of that
  was marred by the sick punch she felt in her stomach at seeing the blood
  drenched crumpled body of Remus.  He was
  slumped on the floor, only held up by the restraints around his wrists.  The holes all over him were invisible since
  it looked like he’d been dunked in a vat of blood. 
  
  His face..
  
  It seemed the needles had indeed swarmed up his throat to attack his face
  too.  It was almost unrecognisable. He
  was destroyed.  She felt sick.  Remus.. He’d given them all hot chocolate and
  spoken with them for hours in front of the fire in Grimmauld Place.  She couldn’t think of a single thing she
  really held against Remus..
  
  Or Hagrid for that matter.
  
  There wasn’t even a body.  She didn’t
  know if giants buried their dead or how that worked..  
  
  it was terrible.  How could she do
  this?!  What was wrong with her?!  She deserved the things that these people
  might have done after Harry won.  She
  deserved Azkaban.  She’d killed people.  She’d tortured..and
  tonight.. she’d enjoyed it.  Committing
  these ghastly – no they were evil –
  acts.  She deserved to be locked away
  forever. 

  “You have
  done well thus far, Hermione.  If not for the fuss that I specifically instructed you not to make, I would be
  exceptionally pleased with you tonight. 
  
  Come.. Finish the others and we will return to my chambers for the night.   I wish to see Juellers inversion curse on
  the girl and... I think Minerva will enjoy ‘the fire within’.  She has always been such a cold fish.  We might thaw her slightly at the last.”

  Luna
  frowned slightly.  Hermione didn’t know
  whether she knew of the inversion curse. 
  Surely it would warrant more than a mild look of consternation to know
  that your entire body was to be turned inside out?!  Even Professor McGonagall had reacted with
  horror hearing it! 

  “..something
  else.. not the inversion curse..” she pleaded softly. 

  She felt
  the chest behind her move as Voldemort snorted, annoyed.
  
  “Your whining is beginning to bore me, Hermione.  Do as I have required of you.” 
  
  He sounded irritated.  She knew she was pushing her luck now.  He used this voice when she was just a step
  away from punishment.

  Still she
  hesitated.    The inversion curse was
  beyond horrible.  Probably the worst of
  all.  What had Luna done to deserve
  that?!

  “She does
  not fear it.  Nor does she fear me. 
  Why should I offer her mercy?! 
  She has achieved nothing that would justify her insolent
  forwardness.   But.. if you insist.  Cast the fire within upon the girl.  Minerva is a Gryffindor – she would no doubt
  wish to offer the poor..sweet..deranged
  little Ravenclaw the more merciful death.”

  And
  Professor McGonagall was indeed nodding emphatically, although she looked like
  she might be sick at any second. 

  Luna
  seemed entirely unmoved and even offered Hermione an encouraging little smile.

  Irrationally,
  for a moment, Hermione found she wanted to go over and slap the girl.  Was Luna really
  that nuts?!  That she didn’t even
  care?!  She was about to be killed.  Horribly. 
  Unfairly.  By someone she’d
  considered..if not a good friend then at the very least a frequent
  acquaintance.  Couldn’t she at least have
  the courtesy to look a bit annoyed.

  She heard
  Voldemort give a very soft low laugh and shrugged it off, irked.
  
  It wasn’t that she was actually wanting to see crying and screaming and
  pleading – no she hated all of those
  – but it was just not right for someone to skip gaily up to the gallows,
  metaphorically speaking.

  A
  moment’s hesitation and then she raised her wand against Luna.  The blonde smiled again and Hermione felt her
  last nerve snap.

  “Pyrosangua!” she very nearly
  snarled.  The dark rush was almost
  overwhelming this time.  She reeled and
  gasped, her eyes slipping closed through the unexpected wave of ecstasy,
  feeling invincible and wondering what had been different.  Was it the curse?  Was she just more sensitive to it now?  She opened her eyes and blinked, almost
  surprised, at the writhing, silently screaming form of the girl with whom she
  had so long ago had very frustrating one sided arguments in the library.

  “it was
  not the curse, Hermione-” The smooth voice murmured next to her ear.  She could feel his warm lips millimetres from
  her skin.. his breath ghosting over it. 
  His hands were stroking her abdomen in a manner that felt pleased and
  possessive as if she were an object of value to be protected.
  
  “The curse itself was of little relevance - It was your state of mind while
  casting which brought about the effect you are presently enjoying.  At least.. you certainly appear to be enjoying it..
  
  For the first time you embraced the
  act. 
  
  Your scattered and indecisive will..your insistence upon viewing the spell as
  something you were forced to cast..
  dampened the effect of the dark magic on the previous occasions you employed
  it. 
  
  There is a fundamental difference between will
  and desire, Hermione.  Will is required to successfully cast many
  dark curses – most notably the killing curse...however desire...desire is refracted through dark magic into pleasure. 
  
  You will find...it can be even more satisfying than this.  Your desire to curse Luna was a small and
  fleeting thing.  True desire has the
  power to render the act very nearly a transcendental experience.”

  “Oh.” She
  said in a small voice and swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the faint
  curiosity at just how much better it could
  feel.  It didn’t matter how good it
  felt.  It was wrong.  The pleasure was at
  the expense of someone’s life!
  
  Luna’s struggling form had finally ceased moving and Hermione almost sighed in
  relief.  The blonde girl was lobster red
  from the boiling of her blood. 

  Casting
  the curses was not difficult and as practical exercises went, she had always
  done well at performing a spell on the first try – but the nature of the spells
  was upsetting..  She didn’t like watching
  their effects.  It was better when things
  were peaceful.  It was...better.. after
  the curse was finished..
  
  If it weren’t for Professor McGonagall’s accusing, and incongruently pitying, eyes, she could almost feel
  calm again now. 

  Voldemort’s
  voice interrupted her maudlin discontented musing. 
  
  “Finish this now – eliminate Minerva – I am impatient to have you twisting and
  moaning under my wand..”

  Hermione
  shivered.  Yes.  She wanted that.  He sounded pleased with her.  It was always very very good when he was
  pleased.
  
  When she looked up, Professor McGonagall had her eyes closed and she realised,
  with a start, that the older Witch had tears sliding down her cheeks.  She wasn’t sobbing or gushing,
  nevertheless..the sight of those tears on the face of the woman who was never anything other than a rock of calm
  and control, was worse than everything that had come before.

  “Well
  well.. How delightful.  A parting gift,
  Minerva?!   I thought never to see your
  craggy features crack.”

  Professor
  McGonagall glared over Hermione’s shoulder with watery eyes.  
  
  Surprised, she felt the shift as Voldemort waved the silencing spell away.   “No doubt you will have last words.  It
  would be inexcusable of me to prevent you your final cutting, judgemental
  remark.”

  Hermione
  watched, anxious and more than a little afraid to hear what her former Professor
  might say.

  Professor
  McGonagall’s eyes flicked between them both, resting heavily on Hermione for a
  few seconds before returning up to the pale serpentine man behind her.

  “You have
  committed no more unforgiveable crime than this, Tom.”

  Hermione
  heard the man behind her sniff contemptuously. 
  

  “Oh.. I
  do not refer to the deaths.. No.. I am certain you have killed many others, no doubt with far less
  mercy.   No.. I was speaking of what you
  have done to Hermione Granger.. the..transformation you have wrought upon
  her.  To take a young, muggleborn witch, Harry Potter’s best friend no
  less, a witch who was so bright.. not simply intelligent but brilliant.. and good.. a truly admirable girl... To
  reduce her to ...this.. is inhuman.”

  Hermione
  stiffened.   She wanted to
  say..something.. something to excuse herself.. Something to defend the things
  she’d done. 
  
  There really was very little she could say. 
  
  
  She had been bored with the emptiness of waiting in the cage and fascinated by
  the dark, powerful mystique of the enemy everyone had spoken of in hushed tones
  for the formative years of her life.  
  When he’d introduced her to exhilarating sensations that she’d never
  tasted before and knowledge she would never have the opportunity to acquire
  anywhere else.. she’d been hooked very quickly.
  
  Oh..she’d known what she was doing – there was no way to plead ignorance. 

  She’d
  done it for him..

  No. 
  
  She’d done it for herself – because she wanted to please him. 

  When he was pleased with her.. when he was impressed with something she had
  done or some idea she had presented while they discussed the books he gave
  her.. it felt better than receiving an O in her exams.  It felt better than the backhand-compliments
  she had occasionally received from Professor Snape.  It felt better than...
  
  it felt better than laughing and talking with Harry and Ron by the fire in the
  common room.

  And..
  perhaps.. she might not actually want to curse anyone, particularly.  She might have preferred not to hurt any of
  the people he’d demanded she kill tonight..
  
  But... then he did kind of have a point about the threat they each
  represented.  
  
  As much as she loved them all..  she
  could think of many examples in which each of them had shown the behaviour he’d
  labelled them with. 
  
  Professor McGonagall was usually a
  stickler for the rules.   Harry was the
  only one she allowed to ‘get away with’ blatant rule breaking. 
  
  Maybe.. maybe if she had gone to her independently and explained exactly what
  had happened...  But it was a very iffy
  maybe and she doubted, under the circumstance that Harry won, that she’d have
  the opportunity to go galavanting around visiting who she chose. 
  
  Something occurred to her again.  Why was
  Professor McGonagall supposedly running the Order of the Phoenix?!

  Voldemort
  stepped away from her, smoothly confiscating her wand as he did and tucking it
  into his robes. 
  
  She wrinkled her forehead.  She hated it
  when he took it away again.  And why was
  he doing it now?!  Didn’t he want her to curse Professor
  McGonagall? 

  She
  watched him glide closer to the manacled elderly witch with what she recognised
  was his ‘cat playing with mouse’ expression. 
  He enjoyed toying with death eaters sometimes before punishing them.  He was toying with Professor McGonagall now.

  “I have
  always found it fascinating, Minerva, how you arbitrarily dismiss brilliance
  when it is not accompanied by naive innocence.  
  
  
  Hermione is as brilliant as she ever was; as intelligent.. as..passionate.  She is merely no longer the tool of that
  lemon drop sucking old fool and his poor doomed little puppet. 
  
  And as far as engineering a transformation
  – I have not forced her hand.  She came
  to me willingly..
  
  ...she desired me. 
  
  For months I listened to her wistful, curious thoughts and felt her watch me with
  such innocent hunger. 
  
  Months she waited, protected from the appetites of the rough men who serve
  me.  You might have regained her, had you
  chosen to act at that time..
  
  But I understand, Minerva.  In the wake of Albus’ death – it was too
  considerable a risk to send order members into the heart of my domain to reclaim ... How did you
  refer to her?  A young muggleborn witch –
  best friend of Harry Potter – a brilliant, admirable girl.  You had.. no choice.. but to forget her; to leave
  her to her fate.”

  Hermione
  reeled. 

  “Professor
  Dumbledore is dead?!  When?  How?!” 
  

  Why had
  the Dark Lord never mentioned it?! 
  Surely he would have been overjoyed. 
  She’d never noticed anything!

  Lord
  Voldemort turned to her, a predatory smile on his planar face.

  “I did
  not mention Albus’ death because it occurred shortly before we became..more
  intimately acquainted, Hermione. 
  
  If you had not already lost interest in the contents of the numerous meetings
  to which you were witness.. and had you not been rather distracted over the course of the subsequent months, you might have
  noticed that Albus was rarely mentioned by my death eaters after that
  point.  Although.. I concede that they
  only infrequently use names.  It was
  perhaps easy to misconstrue, lacking much of the context to interpret the
  briefings I receive.
  
  It should have been Draco Malfoy who dealt the final blow, however the boy was
  weak and Severus was obliged to step in and finish the task. 
  
  ...I regret only that I could not be there. 
  
  
  Although I have the memories of my servants to savour, it is not the
  same.”  He looked discontented.  “Alas, it is a moment I cannot reclaim.” 
  
  “...It was through that regret that I determined to change my plans regarding you. 
  I had intended you to serve quite a different purpose.  At present I remain confident that I made the
  correct decision as to your fate.”

  At
  present.
  
  She stayed hanging on those two words. 
  
  What had he planned to do with her?! 
  He’d seemed to suggest earlier that evening that she was expected to
  fight against Harry for him.  That that
  was the reason he’d plucked her from the cage.
  
  At present he did not regret doing it. 
  As if it might change at any moment.

  Professor
  McGonagall spoke up, fixing the Dark Lord with cold eyes and a wan secretive
  smile. “You are silver tongued, but you have always been an arrogant boy,
  Tom!  It was so in school and it is as
  true now.  You may think you have twisted her around your bony finger but Miss Granger
  is not.. and never was.. a tool or a puppet. 
  She has never been under the thumb
  of Albus Dumbledore or Harry Potter.  She
  chose to help Harry and the Order out
  of affection and her own strong principles! 
  
  
  Perhaps she has been led astray..  –
  persuaded to do things that are against her nature..
  but she will show you in the end!  She
  will show her true principles, Tom.  I
  would stake my last knut upon it.  When
  the moment of truth arrives, Hermione will do what she knows to be right.”

  The
  elderly witch’s face had taken on a rabid fervour.   She believed
  what she was saying. 
  
  It unsettled Hermione.  Professor
  McGonagall hadn’t given up on her. 
  
  But ..she couldn’t know all the things she’d done.  She was just using the words to lash out at
  Voldemort.  It wasn’t truly about her at
  all. 
  
  She flinched when the bright, tear-glistening blue gaze was turned upon her,
  striking her with the force of a blowtorch. 
  

  Hermione!  You are not ruined!  This is not
  your only choice.  The wizarding world
  will not scorn and punish you, no
  matter what this snake might wish you to believe.  We – your
  friends would never have allowed you to be judged so harshly.  Not after so long in the company of this
  fiend.  I am so sorry that we did not
  try to save you, Hermione.  I won’t offer
  reasons or excuses.. you are intelligent enough to reason for yourself and, no
  doubt, others will explain the situation to you when this horror is over.
  Simply know that I wish more than
  anything that there had been a way. 
  
  Do not give up!  Fight for what-“

  The
  sickly brown flash struck the Professor in her left shoulder and the rest of
  what she had sought to say was subsumed in screams. 

  Hermione
  turned away, closing her eyes and putting her hands over her ears.  She didn’t want to see.. didn’t want to be
  aware of it at all.  He’d used the
  inversion spell after all.  Even with her
  fingers in her ears she could hear the way the screams became gurgles and then
  were overcome by gristly snapping sounds and splashing.  She wished she could switch her mind off as
  easily as she could close her eyes. 
  
  Warm hands gripped her own and tried to pull them away from her ears.  She struggled to keep them where they were,
  shaking her head emphatically and hoping he’d stop.  He ignored her resistance and dragged her
  hands down by the wrists.  Glorious
  silence filled the room.  Tentatively she
  opened her eyes.  It only took a brief
  glance over her shoulder that caught the moving twisting redness in her
  peripheral vision, to know that it wasn’t over. 
  He’d merely silenced what was left of Professor McGonagall. 
  
  The tall monster before her released her wrists, looking down upon her.  He seemed irritated.

  “Minerva
  was always a self righteous witch” he muttered. 
  “and wilfully deluded.” He added with rancour. “Never doubt that she had
  her own agenda –or rather followed
  Albus’ agenda – and within that agenda – your well-being was only marginally
  more sought than my own.”

  Hermione
  nodded on general principles.  She didn’t
  want to talk about Professor McGonagall with him.  She had cared for her and the last words that
  her former Professor had offered did not leave her cold.  The confidence with which Professor
  McGonagall had insisted that she would do the right thing in the end... the
  surety in her voice was intimidating.  
  There was no right thing.  If she did something to help Harry then
  Voldemort would die.  And vice
  versa.  She didn’t want either of them to
  die really, if she was honest.  Why
  wasn’t there another way?!
  
  “Just don’t make me look.  I don’t want
  to see it.”      

  Voldemort
  smiled thinly again
  
  “I am not pleased with your behaviour tonight.” 
  He cupped her face as if inspecting a naughty but adorable pet.  “First you knowingly disobey in order to
  satisfy your own curiosity regarding my current magical workings, something
  which I allowed to occur and might
  have forgiven, had you not then insisted upon making a fuss about the task
  given, although instructed not to do so.. and then finally you do not complete your task, refusing to use the
  curses I wished you to use.  I should not
  have been obliged to finish your work
  here.”

  “I’m..”
  She stopped.  She’d wanted to say she was
  sorry but she didn’t think she was exactly. 
  
  
  “why did it have to be them?!  I know the reasoning – but why did I have to do it?!  If you just wanted them dead, you could have
  done it without even telling me.  You do
  most things without telling me.  You knew
  it would be painful for me to have to hurt them.  Why?!”

  The
  abbreviated smile faded from the lean serpentine face as his eyes
  narrowed. 
  
  “Do not challenge me, Hermione.  It is not your place to question my decisions.”  He gripped her upper arm tightly and she
  wanted to wince.  He was strong and fully
  aware of his own physical capabilities. 
  Hurting her was always intentional – he was never clumsy or
  thoughtless.  She was sure that he was
  the most controlled and graceful person that she’d ever known, as well as the
  most ruthless.
  
  “This was not a test of your ability to perform curses.  No.. I knew before I set the practice that
  you would perform every curse flawlessly, provided motivated to do so.  Your ability to learn and to translate theory
  into practice is formidable.  This was a
  test of your ability to obey my orders when they directly counter your own
  preferences... and your performance was disappointing.  You obliged me to involve myself.. persuade and reason with you.. you refused
  instructions, you haggled.. and in
  the end I was forced to finish the task for you. 
  
  I do not think you deserve to be rewarded tonight...”

  The
  apparition ripped her away.  It was
  really a lot worse when she was dragged by one arm as opposed to held
  gently.  She was still disorientated when
  she was tossed to the floor at the foot of the Dark Lord’s bed, landing hard
  upon her thigh.  A faint click barely registered
  in her mind until she tried to lift her hands to brush her tossed hair from her
  face and discovered that she couldn’t. 
  They were manacled to the floor near the bedpost.

  “You will
  remain there tonight and think about
  your failure.  Tomorrow.. if I am not
  interrupted by the infernal saviour of the light, I will give you another
  opportunity to show obedience to me. 
  Goodnight, Hermione.”

  “WHAT?!!”  her better judgement had obviously stepped
  out for a while because she found herself yelling at him.  “You’re PUNISHING
  me after I did what you WANTED?!  WHAT
  THE HELL?!  You are SUCH a COLLOSSAL
  BASTARD!!  You made me kill people that I
  love and now you tell me that I was.. disappointing?!  How can you fucking-“

  She tried
  unsuccessfully to swallow her screams as the curse flashed through her.  He held it on her for what felt like almost a
  minute.  When he dropped it she was
  panting and sobbing but still angry enough to glare at him. 
  
  The damned snake just looked at her thoughtfully, as if examining some kind of
  puzzle, and then threw a silencing spell over her, turning away and beginning
  to disrobe for bed. 

  “Once
  again you are a foolish little witch.  
  If you had shown the appropriate level of regret and apologetic
  grovelling, I might have allowed you
  a warming or perhaps even a cushioning spell. 
  As it is.. I am certain you shall have a very long, cold, uncomfortable
  night.”  He waved his hand absently,
  without turning, and Hermione jumped slightly as her dress was vanished,
  leaving her bare skin pressed to the cold stone of the floor.
  
  Voldemort didn’t bother to look around at her again.  He removed his robes, baring the marble white
  contours of his unfortunately very attractive body to her. 
  
  She felt a sudden stab at the unfairness. 
  She was supposed to be in bed with him.. he’d said he was going to
  reward her.. the innuendo’s he’d made while they were in the dungeon had been
  quite clear. 
  
  Her eye traced down the length of the snow white back, over his firm arse and
  down to his lean muscled thighs.  She
  tried to remind herself that he was often unfair.  Often biased or cruel. 
  
  What had she really expected?! 

  There was
  a draft somewhere in this room. 
  Impossibly – since it had no doors or windows.  A cold wind seemed to blow past her, chilling
  her on the floor.  Voldemort’s robes lay
  discarded in a silky pile on the floor, far out of her reach.  She was preoccupied with the thought of how
  she might possibly stretch her body out that way after he was asleep and hook
  them with a toe, when they vanished entirely.

  “Disobedient
  chit” the familiar voice chided.  In her
  distraction she had missed him getting into bed and now he lay under the
  covers, propped on his elbows and looking at her with an expression that was
  equal parts frustration and amusement.
  
  “Goodnight, Hermione.  I hope you will
  spend the freezing hours contemplating how you failed tonight, and determining
  to do better tomorrow.”

  He
  gestured vaguely and the torches extinguished. 
  

  She heard
  him shifting under the covers.  The
  warm..soft.. covers..
  
  The stone floor felt, impossibly, even harder than the metal floor of her
  cage.  Were there cushioning charms on
  the cage?!   Her hip hurt already from
  this position.   And that draft had to be
  artificial.  He’d probably created it
  just to be an even bigger bastard. 
  
  Wriggling about with the limited range of movement available to the very short
  manacles fixed to the floor, she found that there really wasn’t a comfortable
  position attainable.  That, again, would
  be intentional.

  Had she
  really disobeyed him seriously enough to deserve this?!  
  
  She didn’t think so.  She’d done what
  he’d asked.  Maybe she hadn’t done it
  immediately without question but – for merlin’s sake – they were her friends! 
  Except for Luna – they were almost family.

  It was
  really cold.

  How long
  had it been now?!   Had she been down
  here long enough for him to think she’d learned her lesson?  Had she been here long enough for him to fall
  asleep?  Would he sleep when she was here? 
  She had never seen him sleep. 
  Every time she slept here she fell asleep first and woke in the cage.
  
  She was still silenced. 
  
  What if he really expected her to stay here all night?! 
  
  Surely he wouldn’t...  He.. 
  
  She shook her head, cursing her stupidity. 
  Of course he would.  It was
  nothing to him.  A bit of discomfort.  It wasn’t as if he possessed any kind of
  mercy and he didn’t actually care
  about her – he’d made that clear this morning. 
  He’d asked incredulously what she thought he’d been spending all this
  time with her for if not to use her against Harry.

  That
  thought hurt much more than it should, she found.

  Idiotic.  To think that Lord Voldemort cared about
  anyone else in anything other than an instrumental way.  Of course he didn’t.  He’d killed his own parents.. his servants..
  he’d killed lovers without a second thought. 
  He was inhuman.  Evil.  He was very nearly soulless – literally.
  
  And she’d known all of that before anything happened.  At what point, she wondered, did she manage
  to push it far enough out of her mind to actually fall in love with a
  monster?! 
  
  Fascination and clinical interest were one thing but she was honest enough to
  admit that that wasn’t what she felt
  anymore.

  After
  what he’d done this evening... how could she feel anything at all?! 

  Professor
  McGonagall was wrong.  She was sick.  She still wanted him even after what he’d
  done... even after what he’d made her do. 
  If he freed her and called her into bed now, she’d go.
  
  The thought was terrible but she really wished he’d call her.  It was freezing on the floor and his body was
  always so warm.   His kisses heated her
  from within as her blood roared.
  
  She was ruined. 
  
  All the noble, defiant, hope-drenched things that Professor McGonagall had said
  had only been intended to upset Voldemort. 
  The only true thing her Professor had said was that it was horrible what
  he’d done to her.  What he’d turned her into.
  
  That was the true part.

  She
  closed her eyes. 
  
  He wasn’t going to call her. 
  
  Trying to still the shivers in her back at the cold she sought sleep, knowing
  that it was a pointless endeavour.   She
  would by lying here with her thoughts for half the night, just like he said.

  She
  couldn’t prevent her mind from drifting to the memories of her dead
  friends..  She tried, unsuccessfully, to
  think of other things.. expecting to be punished for thinking about something
  he didn’t like.. but perhaps he was asleep because when she shed a few
  involuntary tears for Remus and Hagrid and professor McGonagall, nothing
  happened.

   
  
  
  

  Author note.

  Review replies can be found at
  http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/18725-review-replies/

   

  
  
  
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