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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 37648 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

Please allow me to introduce myself

I'm a man of wealth and taste

I've been around for a long, long year

Stole many a man's soul and faith

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guess my name

But what's puzzling you

Is the nature of my game

So if you meet me

Have some courtesy

Have some sympathy, and some taste

Use all your well - learned politeness

Or I'll lay your soul to waste, um yeah

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guessed my name, um yeah

But what's confusing you

Is the nature of my game, um mean it, get down

The Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the devil.

Chapter eleven

Lord Voldemort sighs as he pulls the last book of the shelf from his personal library. He has a strong inkling, this one isn't it either. He takes one glance over its pages and knows he is right. With an angry growl he throws it away and Dark Arts Revisited lands unceremoniously on the now immense pile on the floor. Usually, he has great respect for books and treats them with more care then he ever bestowed upon another human being, but today he feels like incinerating them all for failing to provide him with the proper information. This is ridiculous. He has never, not been able to recollect something. He is certain he read about the phenomenon, absolutely positive. Why can't he remember it? He is Lord Voldemort, he must remember it. He just must. And he kicks the pile out of sheer frustration. Never, ever has he been disappointed by books before, but, apparently, there is a first for everything.

He imagines reading the book again. It is one-third into the book at the bottom half of the right page. He can almost see it. It is right there, but the letters remain blurred and he is unable to decipher them. Perhaps, if he concentrates on other parameters, he can recall which book contains the knowledge, or better yet, remember what is on its pages. He envisions holding the book in his hand. He can almost feel it there, touching his skin, and he shifts his focus on his surroundings. He is in the Hogwarts library in his favourite secluded corner. So he read it, while he was still in school. Unfortunately, he read almost every book there and then, so that doesn't narrow down his search. He tries to imagine closing the book in his hands and looking at the cover, but upon closing it, the blasted book becomes a blur again. Fine, the Hogwarts library it is.

Fortunately, the school year is coming to an end and there are only a few of those imps still present in the library. Upon noticing him, they, however, have the good sense to abandon the area and leave him be. He takes a breath and sniffs. The familiar smell of loads and loads of old and new books reaches his sinuses. This has always been his favourite place to be at Hogwarts and a broad smile appears on his face. He wants to simply take a book he has not read yet and go to his favourite corner to enjoy a moment of peace and tranquillity while reading new ideas and concepts. It's when he realises, he is getting sentimental. And annoyed with himself, he paces toward the former Restricted Section. He has information to find, questions that require answering. He needs not waste his time with those weak feelings and emotions. They are truly unworthy and unbecoming of him.

And so he stands in front of the shelf, but he does not pull one of the books out. He looks at the books and remembers how long it took him before he was able to secretly gain access to this part of the library. Nowadays it is as accessible as the rest of the library. He immediately had the locks removed and made sure everyone could read everything, when he gained power. He always felt it was an abomination to keep knowledge away from those who graved it. But as he stands in this section filled with dangerous books, he remembers his visual from a few moments ago. He saw himself reading the book in the library at a very young age. He couldn't have been more than eleven. That was before he was able to get in here. So the book must be elsewhere. He finds it hard to believe. He read it when he was that young? Lord Voldemort remembers the kind of books he read at that age. Surely, none of them could have contained the information on something so rare and important? But still it had…

He walks to his favourite corner and stands there. Here is where he read it. A book that revealed magical information the likes of which he has not seen or heard off before in his entire lifetime. And he read it at age eleven? What book could he possibly have been allowed to read by those imbeciles that ran this school that…

A swirl of cloak leaves a rapid shadow behind, when Voldemort strides to the history session. Really, of all the wretched books in the world he ever had the misfortune to read. His eyes dart the shelves for the volume. It will be here, no doubt. No one will have borrowed it. It's when he sees the dark, black spine of the book and the gold trimmed letters with the name and title, Merlin's Laws on Magic. Sweet Salazar, he so vowed to never, ever read that blasted man's writings ever again. Disgruntled, he pulls the book from the shelf and he knows it is the one. He is going to have to reread that atrocity of a text. This definitely is the worst day of his life.

Fortuitously, he has an indication as to where the answers are written down, so if he is lucky, he won't have to reread the entire book. He opens the book and strolls back to sit down. Subconsciously, he ends up in his favourite corner on the ground of the library, but he does not realise it. He is skipping the pages vigorously. There it is. For a brief moment, his eyes fall on the chapter title at the top of the page. It brings about a sickening and nauseating feeling, and he disregards it immediately. Merlin was an utter sentimental fool at times.

So he reads the text that describes the events he encountered with Granger. Merlin appeared to have had similar issues with Viviane. When he is done reading; he shakes his head. No way. No, no, no, no. This isn't right. There is no way that Mudblood can possibly be his magical counterpart. He skips back and reads the stupid text again. Merlin is just plain mistaken. He is certain of that. There must be another explanation. He will be damned if that woman is going to get a hold over him. So he reads it again, and again, and again. Until he finally shuts the book with an angry growl.

Yoda! The blasted monk knows! He must have recognised the magic when Granger arrived on their doorsteps. Of all the places in the world she had to end up there. He feels lucky they are always so tiresomely dilatory in teaching their ways to another. She is nowhere near ready, yet. Her focus and concentration are wavering; too easily broken. He scowls when certain aspects of his conversation with Yoda come back to mind. The obnoxious Knight had been baiting him ever step of the way that day.

'Miss Granger's capabilities did require me to get personally involved … an exception was made for an exceptional woman ... I am sure you will agree with me that the girl is quite extra-ordinary.'

Always the usual beating around the bush and not say what you truly mean. The man had been on a little fishing trip to check if he knew already. Well, the monk should have prepared the girl better. It is obvious to Voldemort that Granger had been just as unaware to any of this as he had been. She seemed equally astonished when their spells collided and extinguished. If Yoda would have informed her beforehand, she could have done some serious damage to him, but not anymore, not now.

Now, he knows. And he will be ready to counter any attack on his magic. But how well will Granger fare? A smirk crosses his features as he remembers her inability to block the Imperius Curse. Of course, he lost control of it, because he had been unknowing to them being magically compatible. However, as things are, he can take pre-emptive arrangements with his curses. Use her own magic against her. A soft snicker leaves his mouth. It will be a fitting punishment for her insolence in defying him all these years. And he can certainly make her pay for the destruction of his Horcruxes.

Speaking of Horcruxes, there is no way she can hide the whereabouts of the Amulet from him anymore. With this information he'll breakthrough her mental barrier in a heartbeat. So that is what Yoda meant when he spoke off Granger's Occlumency being easily shattered by him. It's all beginning to make sense now.

But there are also other matters to consider. As long as he controls the girl, his powers will multiply. Compatible magic tends to grow and build upon another, and according to Merlin his powers went through the roof when he imprisoned Viviane. However, somewhere down the line Merlin made an error; a blunder of magnificent proportions. Unfortunately, no one knows what it had been. Merlin, naturally, had not written down the aspects and circumstances of his death. All that is common knowledge is that he died by the hand of Viviane. No one knows how she had done it. She had taken the information with her to the grave and Merlin's death remains a mystery onto today. Voldemort realises this must have been what the monk had been referring too.

'It is you who is at her mercy, Tom. But I understand that you do not have the capabilities to realise that.'

He stares into thin air. This, he has to prevent. Right now, he can easily overpower Granger. He needs to find her and make her see reason. If she will, she can become his most valuable asset; if she won't, he will kill her. He will not allow himself to become a victim of this Mudblood. He is Lord Voldemort and he will succeed. Besides, Merlin was a fool, who fell in love with, and by doing so dropped his guard around, Viviane. He will not make that same mistake and be drawn to feel something so weak and despicable. It probably was the reason the romantic sucker died to begin with.

'Master?' says the meek voice of Lucius Malfoy.

Voldemort looks up, irritated. 'What do you want this time, Lucius?'

'I received news from the Auror Teams that were dispatched to the uproar at the Oxford University yesterday,' says Lucius feeble.

Voldemort notices that his eyes are darting left and right, trying hard not to meet his. And the pureblood obviously doesn't know how to deal with his lordship sitting on the ground with a book in his lap, because his otherwise pale complexion has turned incredibly red. He looks thoroughly uncomfortable with standing there, taking a physically higher posture than his Master. Like he, Lord Voldemort, can't curse him from a seated position. Voldemort snorts.

'Why is a disturbance at a muggle site any of my concern, Malfoy? Surely, it has been dealt with accordingly.'

'Well… the Aurors found several injured muggles and a huge amount of injured witches and wizards at the scene,' explains Lucius frightful.

'So a bunch of fools got their behinds kicked by filth. I still don't see why you are wasting my time with this Lucius. I already told you yesterday not to bother me with measly trivialities,' Voldemort says quietly.

His tone is enough to make Malfoy shiver for a moment and the idiot continues to waste his time stuttering something incomprehensible.

'Theaunhergrantehere,' mutters Lucius.

Voldemort raises his eyebrows. 'Very well spoken, Lucius,' he sarcastically states, 'come back once you've mastered the English language again.'

And he returns his attention to the book in his lap. It's when Lucius dares to open his mouth.

'The Aurors said Hermione Granger was there.'

Voldemort's head snaps upward and his wand is in his hand before Malfoy even has the opportunity to witness the movement. Lucius, who bowed down to his Master upon bringing him this bit of delightful news, gets hit with the Cruciatus Curse, despite his submissive posture and he plummets to the ground, screaming and twisting. After a while, Voldemort lifts the curse. He has gotten back on his feet and is now towering over his sobbing servant.

'Granger was there?' he asks menacingly. 'How come I receive this information a day after events transpired, Lucius? Care to explain that to me?'

'I didn't know, my Lord. The Aurors failed to inform me the girl was there. I only…'

'You failed to stay informed?' Voldemort says angry. 'Crucio!'

Malfoy's screams flare through the library and this time Voldemort is not lifting the curse quickly. He rather enjoys watching the man wriggle and shake on the floor.

'What was she doing there?' he finally asks the shivering, crying and begging Malfoy. 'Answer me, Lucius! Or do you prefer another lesson?'

'No, no, Master, please. The Aurors said the Mudblood hexed the witches and wizards, who attacked the muggle students,' Lucius rambles quickly. 'They think she somehow was in the neighbourhood and intervened.'

'Bunch of morons … Granger wouldn't be so foolish to go near a high profile place without a solid reason. You will go there yourself, Lucius, and sweep the area. Take all the help with you that you need, but find out what she was doing there,' orders Voldemort, before stalking out of the library with Merlin's book tucked underneath his armpit.

Crucio-ing Lucius has given him a rather delicious and shrewd idea on how to get Granger to return to his care on her own behalf. He won't even have to go looking for her, if he plays his cards right. The girl will come to him. A high pitched laugh still echoes through the Hogwarts corridors, while Lord Voldemort returns to his quarters, utterly pleased with the way events have turned out.

He enters his messy study chamber, but a lazy flick of his wrist clears up the disarray the room is in, and the books that are scattered on the floor, return to their rightful place on the shelves alongside the walls. Voldemort sits down behind his desk, while placing Merlin's book on the side of it. A vile smile appears, when he conjures a new bottle of ink before him. A few lazy waves with his wand above the bottle, and the ink gets stained with his magic. That'll do it. Not a single detection charm will see this as a curse or a danger, but it most certainly is. At least for Granger it is, since she is susceptible to his magic. She will lose the moment she opens the envelope and reads the letter. And the beauty of it is, she won't even know it, before it is too late.

What to write? It's when he sees the book lying beside the parchment and he snickers loudly. That certainly is an exciting idea. Not that he thinks she hasn't read the text, yet. The bookworm she is will have undoubtedly read this 'masterpiece of literature'. But she may have the same problems as he had with recollecting the precise text. Also access to this book will be problematic at best for her. So he decides on sending the book along with the letter. That way he will be certain she understands the predicament she is in. She really doesn't have a choice here.

If she won't respond to his ultimatum he will be able to find her due to his magic on the letter. After all, the magic will be absorbed by hers, according to Merlin's theory. It will be relatively easy for him to locate her, once his magic is a part of her. And it will be prudent to send a little lesson along with it; to make her aware she can't escape him. A bit of panic will do and he adds that quality to his magic. There, some issues with being able to breathe, and she will beg for his forgiveness. He picks up the quill and starts writing. When he is finally done, he carefully wraps the book and the letter inside a simple brown, none identifiable paper. And he hands it to the brown speckled owl, he summoned.

'Make certain Hermione Jean Granger gets this package first thing tomorrow morning,' he tells the owl.

An affirmative hoot is the owl's response and he watches when it flies away across the Hogwarts' lake. Now, all he can do is: wait and relax. He has given the girl until ten o'clock tomorrow evening to return and she better be here, if she knows what is good for her. He hates having to run after morons who don't know when they have lost. What would she have been doing at that muggle university? Strange… but he will know all, when she returns to submit herself to his mercy. He is already looking forward to that, while he grabs a bite to eat and entertains himself by tormenting a few House-elves.

It is noon the next day, when he sees her walking across the grounds of Hogwarts. It is most accommodating and kind of her not to keep him waiting. Lord Voldemort will consider this when he lays judgement upon her. He narrows his eyes when a small boy tugs on her robes. What does that midget think he is doing? But the little and, no doubt, whiny creature runs away from Granger quickly. Hmmm… well… he supposes it is of no consequence what ants think. You can always squash them when they become too big a nuisance.

Voldemort is just beginning to wonder what the delay is when he, finally, hears the knock on the door. He is still standing in front of the window, though he is no longer interested in the view.

'Enter,' he orders.

He can sense her entering, more clearly then before. He knows what to look for now. Voldemort closes his eyes and concentrates on surrounding her with his magic. She will pay dearly for her crimes. Malfoy interrupts his thought process by opening his useless mouth once more.

'My Lord, the girl has arrived.'

Really, the man is always stating the obvious.

'Leave us,' Voldemort orders without turning around.

He hears how Lucius hurries away from the scene, but his focus is on Granger. Time to take over control. His magic expands with the speed of light and engulfs her. He shuts down all muscular mobility, including her respiratory system. She will have to learn quickly that he is her Master and that she needs to obey his every command or feel the consequences. Her life is now for him to decide upon. He truly is going to enjoy this. He already begins to feel her panic.

Slowly, Voldemort turns around and looks at Hermione's apprehensive state with a small smile on his face. He lazily glides toward her, until he is in front of the girl, taking his time in checking her utterly terrified appearance with his penetrating crimson eyes. He tilts his head to the side, relishing in her discomfort and pain. He can tell she wants to speak, but he is not allowing it. Her eyes widen and he decides to show her he has all the time in the world.

Lord Voldemort casually circles her, tasting her despair. She is about to pass out. That won't do. She will not be permitted to have peace and quietness by slipping away into an unconscious state of being. He stands beside her and places his hand on her ribcage, making the magic flow through his hand in order to force her to take a breath. A loud gasp is his reward and he places his other hand at the back of her neck, enjoying every single second of the power he now yields over this insolent, little witch.

'Welcome back, Hermione,' he whispers against her cheek.

He rubs her neck. Their contact is empowering him beyond his wildest dreams. 'Interesting, don't you agree, my dear?'

But she doesn't respond; she can't. He snickers. 'Oh, sorry, I forgot,' he lies.

He releases his hold over her physical being and allows her to control her own body again. An involuntary shiver flows through her body and her breaths come out in a jerky, hampering motion. He holds her quietly, until she has calmed down.

'Interesting experience, this sharing of magical powers,' he repeats.

'Sharing?' Granger responds snorting. 'Well, why don't you try that, sharing thing, and we can truly see how interesting this experience could become.'

He laughs loudly. 'Perhaps … someday … when you've learnt to behave.'

A scream leaves her lips when he sends a short burst of the Cruciatus Curse through her body. It's her own magic that is hurting her now and he is pleased to see, his expectation, that this way he will hit his target and not miss, is proven right. So he may not be able to curse the girl using his magic, but her own will do nicely.

'I do not want to hear you address me in that insolent tone of voice again.'

'Then, perhaps, it will be prudent for you not to ask me anymore questions,' Hermione sneers. 'That way you won't have to hear… AHHHH!'

He lets go of her this time and she tumbles to the floor, still screaming from the pain that, no doubt, is aggravating. He calmly watches the girl for a while, and then a simple wave of his hand stops the painful experience.

'Want to feel that again, Granger?'

She shakes her head vigorously and he thinks he hears her … cry?

'Get up,' he orders and he swirls around to pace away, disgusted.

He hears how she scrambles back onto her feet and he turns to face her again, hoping she has regained some of her dignity back. Lord Voldemort utterly despises people who allow themselves to exhibit weakness by sobbing in his presence, but to his surprise there are no signs of any fallen tears at all on her face. Instead, two very angry, brown eyes are glaring at him. He feels almost relieved he was mistaken. The possibility that she was crying, revolted him sincerely. He definitely prefers this display of fury. It not only amuses him severely, but her anger also invigorates her magic and he enjoys the power build up inside of him.

'So you told Narcissa Nagini was a Horcrux?' he says, moving back toward her in a calm and slow manner. He smirks when Granger is not foolish enough to respond to the rhetorical question. 'Lost your tongue, already?' he tauntingly asks.

She quirks an eyebrow. 'You didn't seem to enjoy hearing my answers before. So why should I respond to something you obviously already know the answer to?'

'A valid point,' he softly states, 'I suppose we can dispense with the pleasantries. Where is the Amulet of Aine?'

'I don't know,' Granger immediately blurs out.

He halts before her and takes her face in his hands. 'It will be a mistake to test me, Hermione.'

'If you think that is what I'm doing, then your Leglimency skills are highly overrated.'

He gazes directly into her eyes. 'Where … is … the … Amulet?' he says, lying emphasise on every spoken word.

'I … do … not … know,' Hermione responds in the same emphasising manner.

'Crucio,' he lazily says.

Even though he saw in her eyes, she isn't lying to him; she really needs to learn some manners. Voldemort lifts the curse and watches the girl expectantly. A small upward tug of the corner of his mouth is briefly visible.

'This isn't going to get you anywhere,' Hermione states panting. 'I Obliviated myself. I don't know the whereabouts of the Amulet anymore.'

He narrows his eyes and bends over to lift her chin. 'You Obliviated yourself?' he menacingly asks.

'Yes,' Hermione says and she can't hide the triumph from her voice, while she blatantly stares back into his eyes.

This can become problematic. There are so many places in the UK where she could have hidden the Amulet. It will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. However, Obliviating oneself is a rather tricky business. He'll have to look into it first, but there may still be a chance to gain access to the memory. And if there is, he is certain that he will find it.

He takes a hold of her upper arm and pulls her to her feet. 'You pose quite a lot of problems, Hermione.'

'Glad to be of service.'

'Crucio,' he repeats tiresome. Surely, she must get the point some time. And he lifts the curse, again. This is becoming quite a boring routine.

'According to your academic records you are supposed to be quite clever, Granger. However, those records are beginning to lose their merit more and more with this display of foolishness you're showing me at the moment.'

'If academic records are supposed to be indications of intelligence then, by all means, do explain your high scores to me,' she says sassy.

'Cheeky, aren't we?'

'No, just truthful.'

'Always speaking the truth can be overrated.'

'Because you hear it so often.'

'People do not dare to lie to me.'

'Oh, my Lord … Can I, pretty please, put my life in danger, so you can bask in your glory and I will kiss your arse and grovel, because … My Wonderful Master … I do enjoy being a lowly servant so much,' Hermione says theatrically.

And she is doing a pretty good lifelike imitation of Lucius Malfoy's movements, along with her mocking statements, Voldemort notices to his utter amusement.

'Yes, nobody ever lies to you,' she sarcastically adds, while folding her arms over each other in a derisive posture.

'I can always tell when people lie to me and I respond accordingly. Like I said before Granger, always speaking the truth is overrated.'

'Oh, so you prefer all the phoney sucking up to you?'

It becomes silent and he stares at the girl intently, before a small smile forms on his face. He takes a step forward. Calmly, he encircles her wrists in his hands and pulls her toward him. A flicker of fear darts visibly through her eyes, but she does not back down from his gaze.

'Do you believe their angst of me is phoney, Hermione?' he asks quietly.

They are so close he can feel her chest rise and fall with every breath, and it excites him. But he needs to focus, stay in control. It's the compatible magic that caused him to lose it before. It will not happen again and he continues his questions.

'If they do my bidding out of genuine feelings of anxiety, does that make their words a lie or merely a greater testament to my superiority?'

She isn't responding and he feels her pulse rise in his hands, which is logical, since he is the one speeding it up. Finally, she notices and tries to pull free from his grasp, but he will not have that and he holds her wrists even tighter.

'What are you doing?' she anxiously says.

'Proving my point, darling,' he says emotionless.

'Stop it,' she says and she gives it another, unsuccessful tug.

'Show me the proper respect and I will, Hermione,' he viciously states, knowing full well that her heart must be causing her sever distress at the moment.

Her eyes widen and he knows his point has come across, but he still holds on to her wrists, waiting for her to yield. She crashes to the floor on her knees. He sees her eyes roll to the back of her head and she passes out cold; stubbornly, refusing to submit. Voldemort slowly kneels down beside the unconscious girl and lowers her heart rate back to normal. Another wave with his hand and she gasps, before opening her eyes. He leans in toward her by placing one hand beside her head, and with an ever so victorious feeling his other hand moves beneath her shirt. Her skin feels ever so soft against his touch and he notices the shiver that moves through her at his caress.

'Do you truly think that the power I behold does not attract sincere followers? Tell me, dearest, are you honestly that naïve?' he whispers.

Rather abruptly, he gets back to his feet and stares down triumphant at the girl, who is clearly feeling uncomfortable. He watches her closely as she gets back to her feet also. Breaking her will prove quite a wonderful challenge. He is going to savour every moment of subduing her.

'This must be a real drag for you,' Hermione hisses furiously.

As he said quite the challenge.

'What?' he asks in mock innocence, and he starts to circle her again. Hermione is matching his movements, so they stay face to face.

'Finding out your magic is compatible to a Mudblood's. May I recommend a good shrink to unleash your load about it?'

'Don't play coy with me, Granger.'

'No, I was being serious. You can use a thorough exami… Let go of me.'

Voldemort looks over her shoulder. He has grabbed her arm and twirled her around, so her back would be toward him. And while his arms are still holding tightly around her waist, he whispers in her ear.

'You're in no position to make demands, Hermione. You are mine and I will do with you as I see fit. Now, stop struggling or I will make you stop.'

He extracts the magic from her and the power is intoxicating. She finally halts her squirming about and he smiles.

'That's a good girl,' he purrs and he strokes her hair.

She twitches slightly, but it pleases him that she is clearheaded enough not to start fighting him.

'Let's test this little union of our magic, shall we? You best remain still, Hermione. I don't want to get us Splinched,' Voldemort says deviously.

'Splinched!' Hermione shouts fearful. 'Are you crazy? You can't Apparate inside Hog…'

'Crack.'

They Apparate to the Riddle Mansion. Voldemort lets out a shout of victory, when they arrive there; intact and wholesome. He has never felt better in his entire life. This discovery certainly is wonderful. He relishes in the sheer power of the magic. He just passed the Hogwarts' Wards as if they aren't even there. Something, that is supposed to be impossible. This is delicious. He will sway the girl. There is no other option. Lord Voldemort does not relinquish this kind of power, not a chance in hell.

It's when he realises Granger isn't doing to great. She hangs in his arms and the only reason she probably is still standing is because of his tight hold of her. Quickly, he places his hand on her ribcage and concentrates in order to allow her magic to flow back inside of her. She is panting heavily as she leans against him and he strokes her face gently.

'Don't worry, Hermione,' he says ever so softly. 'You're going to be fine. I will take very good care of you.'
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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory