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Two Steps From Hell	By : Ssserpensssotia Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 30375 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No profit is being made. No copyright infringement is intended. Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
This chapter is one of my favorite so far, and I'd really like your opinion. Good or bad- as long as it's justified (no OMFG! Voldie sucks so story is shit), I'll take it.
I try different characters POVs and even though I have favorites, I can try many. So, when you're ready, let me know if I should stick to Hermione's POV or I should continue like I do now.
Longer AN at the end of the chapter, as I don't want to spoil it for you.
Beta: Serpent In Red
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Two Steps From Hell
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Chapter Twelve
"Your Ministry of Magic—along with our gracious partner, the British Ministry of Magic—" The French Minister of Magic's magnified cheerful voice boomed around the incredibly full tribunes. "—allow the final show of The Duel—" He paused and the tribunes quieted down before erupting in ear-chattering cheers as he finished his sentence. "—to start!".
What an idiot.
Ruber Perle was a short man in his fifties with long light brown hair that had never seen a comb, and judging by the state of his robes, he dressed in a hurry somewhere in the refugee camps.
What a waste of air.
And that dimwit was the Minister of Magic of such a gorgeous country as France.
Such sacrilege.
Now, if there was one person who deserved the title of the Minister, it was him, Lucius thought with an arrogant sneer on his handsome face.
Lightly touching his silky and smooth hair—unlike some, his hair was beyond perfect— Lucius rolled his eyes in the dimmed light—no one would catch him doing something so plebian in the bright light—and with a sigh, he returned to his documents.
He needed to go through everything one more time.
Even though Lucius did tell Lord Voldemort that everything was ready—and it was!—he didn't dare letting even a tiny error seep through the otherwise perfectly built scheme, as there would be only one outcome if he failed.
There would be no Azkaban, no trial, and no slithering around—there would just be death awaiting him, his son, and his wife. The only three people Lucius cared for would die if he even stepped wrongly.
Pale grey eyes were trained on the documents as Lucius sat to the Dark Lord's right, trying to ignore the idiotic show and the moronic crowd.
Fools.
xxx
Twenty for the general vote and then fifteen for the voti-
"You filthy piece of shit! Fight like a wizard, you schlimazel!"
Lucius gritted his teeth in annoyance when his favorite sister-in-law so eloquently barked from somewhere to his right. Again.
The Dark Lord who sat to his left was silent, which meant that Bella was allowed to scream all she wanted; the Mudblood to the Dark Lord's left was staring at the arena; and the crazy hag was cheering near the parapet that hanged directly before the dueling arena.
While they were on friendly terms in a battle or on missions, Lucius could barely tolerate his sister-in-law when there was no immediate danger or task to perform.
Now he had one hell of a task in front of him while Bellatrix was once again showing just how mentally stable she really was, and Lucius had to remind himself just why he was going through all those papers one more time.
Narcissa, Draco, Draco, Narcissa…
Quickly scanning the dueling arena and sneering at the idiots who did not know what fighting meant, Lucius returned to his files. He needed to concentrate!
Thirty for the administra-
"Useless swine!" Bella's barking at the duelists was now accompanied by a loud cackling sound—Rodolphus—and Lucius wished to just slam the documents on the parapet in front of him and fuck it all.
He would have done so, if he hadn't been sitting next to the Dark Lord. With a suffering—internal—sigh, Lucius continued his reading.
If the reports had been correct, they would be able to make-
"Graceless schmuck!"
"Can you shut up?!" Lucius snapped at Bellatrix who was now hopping in front of him, leaning on the parapet, and screaming at the new pair of dueling idiots.
"Not enjoying the show, Malfoy? Forgot to do your homework?" Bella's red mouth was stretched in a mocking smile as she grinned at the annoyed face of Lucius Malfoy.
He should have studied the Dark Arts at Illuminus—like Bella and Rodolphus—instead of Magical Law and Finances, Lucius thought while looking at their insane faces.
At least then he'd be crazy enough not to care.
Not that they had to execute all the planning …
Fifty five was a maximum, but if he were to add the possi-
"Sourpuss!" Bellatrix sang into his ear and actually stuck out her tongue at him.
As Lucius was about to rip out her disgusting tongue with his bare hands, the French idiot of a Minister half-crawled to the lounge and, after bowing deeply to the Dark Lord, was now standing with his stupid face right in front of Lucius.
Bella's mocking smirk was directed at Lucius's now highly annoyed face before she turned back to the arena. She continued expressing her amazement at their fighting skills while her husband roared with laughter, drawing a TROLL with his wand in the air.
Retards.
With a suffering sigh, Lucius got up from his comfortable chair, and with a bow to the Dark Lord, he left with the French Minister.
Only one more hour and then he could breathe.
xxx
Hermione stifled a stupid giggle as she watched the notorious Bellatrix Lestrange annoy the infamous Lucius Malfoy, who was for some unknown reason reading instead of watching the show.
What was he reading?
Why was he here if all he wanted to do was read?
He was the British Minister of Magic and they were financing and supervising the show, so it was logical that Malfoy would have to attend, but why didn't Voldemort say anything?
The Dark Lord was quiet and didn't say a word during the first hour, and Hermione found herself squirming in the chair when she thought he looked at her. Was he looking at her at all?
Stupid hood!
"This is not what your wand is made for, you shit for brains!" Bellatrix's loud voice filled the lounge as she screamed at the final pair—before the main duel!—and Hermione suppressed the urge to smack her.
Silently agreeing with the Malfoy Senior, Hermione wished that the insane witch would just close her trap and let others enjoy the show.
Looking from the corner of her eye at the silent form of the Dark Lord, Hermione pursed her lips.
Why did he allow Bellatrix to scream like a mad banshee without reprimanding her?
Was he sleeping?
"Bella, you're disturbing Miss Granger. She cannot enjoy the show when you bark like a dog every two seconds."
Well …
Thank you, Hermione thought looking at the hooded figure.
Voldemort's voice was quiet, but Hermione didn't think anyone in the lounge missed his words as there was silence now.
"My Lord." Bellatrix dropped to her knees before looking up at Voldemort's hood with such an adoring look in her mad black eyes that Hermione's foot itched to kick her. Suddenly, those mad black eyes were glaring at her, and Hermione saw hate mixed with envy shine there.
How I hate her!
Hermione could honestly say she hated Bellatrix more that she hated Voldemort.
Voldemort was right when he compared Bellatrix to a dog.
Bellatrix was like a bulldog. And bulldogs listen only to their "Master", Hermione mentally drawled the word in her best imitation of the older witch's voice as she looked at the hooded figure of the Dark Lord.
Voldemort was Bellatrix's religion, Hermione thought with a curious interest.
How was it possible to lose yourself so much in someone so …?
So …
Hermione just could not find the correct word for Voldemort. And that was the only word she didn't know.
What made him so special?
"Bella, Bella," Voldemort said slowly and with a small pause as he leaned closer to the kneeling figure of the Dark Witch.
With disbelieving eyes and a hanging jaw, Hermione watched as Bella's lust-twisted face was swallowed by Voldemort's hood in what could only have been a kiss.
What the fu-
Hermione's mental exclamation was interrupted when she suddenly felt the Dark Lord's gaze land heavily on her, making the hairs on her neck stand.
"Behave."
Was he talking to her or to the mad hag?
Hermione had a feeling he was talking to them both.
"I will, Master." Bella's voice was breathless, and she seemed even more not-at-home , but now she looked like she died from an orgasm and went to heaven. Her eyes were shining with such lust that Hermione felt uncomfortable for a second.
She didn't want to watch Bellatrix dry hump Voldemort for many reasons, disgust being one of them.
Bellatrix was now sitting on the floor, in a pool of her robes, her expression still disbelieving and her hand with black fingernails touching her red lips, as if afraid that it hadn't been real.
The lipstick was still there, Hermione noted, squinting.
Why wasn't her husband reacting? Casting a quick look towards the man, Hermione saw that Rodolphus Lestrange's face was illuminated with a mad smile, and she thought with a shudder that she was probably the only one sane here. She was the only one sane here.
It looked like someone's wet dream came true today, Hermione mused trying to collect herself and lift her gaze to look Voldemort in the eye. Or wherever they were supposed to be.
How she hated his hood! Why couldn't he take it off? Why did he have to wear it all the time? What had he done with his looks now?
Did he now have horns and spikes to the addition of his already not small creepy arsenal? Did he have teeth and eyes or they were also gone? Was he so damned ugly now that he had thought she'd snap if she saw him?
How could Bellatrix kiss him and come from it, Hermione did not know.
I'd vomit from disgust, most probably. It was not possible to adore Voldemort that much!
Hermione swallowed hard when Voldemort tilted his head to the right and reached out his hand, cupping her face with one black—smooth—leather glove.
"Is that a challenge, Miss Granger?"
His voice was like the glove—smooth and velvety—the hissing sounding almost erotical, and Hermione felt her breathing hitch and her knees tremble.
She would never!
No. She definitely did not want to challenge him to prove her that. It was disgusting and not right; it was sick and twisted. It was wrong on so many levels that Hermione was afraid to start counting and it was crazy.
And she was crazy …
Yessss.
"No, Sir."
Hermione saw his eyes shine bright red for a second and she shivered.
"Such lies, Miss Granger. One must not tell lies." Voldemort's hand was still cupping her cheek; Hermione couldn't calm her heart, and her stomach was doing somersaults.
Merlin, what had she done?
The quiet laughing coming from the hood was genuine and so amused that Hermione felt her heart drop to her stomach.
What was so funny?
Bellatrix now had a huge smile on her face, grinning at Lord Voldemort, not knowing why he was laughing, but joining his good mood. He was her church.
Hermione didn't know what she felt, but whatever it was, it wasn't normal.
Why was Voldemort laughing? What was she missing? And why was he talking in Parseltongue when there were others present?
They knew about the Horcrux, Hermione realized with the half of her brain that was still functioning. The other part was busy trying to understand just why she had dared to challenge the Dark Lord.
"Very well, Miss Granger." The Dark Lord finally breathed out a long hiss that sounded amused, satisfied, and even tender.
"I accept."
He was looking her in the eyes.
Hermione told herself she didn't suddenly feel excitement and this funny tingling sensation in her stomach skyrocket.
What was wrong with her?! Hermione thought with almost a whine.
Bellatrix was now glaring at her with such hate and jealousy that Hermione was about to make a face when she saw Lucius Malfoy return, and then Voldemort swiftly rose from his seat and moved to the exit.
Where was he going?
Didn't anybody want to watch the show?
Why were they all here then?
xxx
"Tell me, Miss Granger, what did you do to make our Lord laugh like that?" Lucius Malfoy was now leaning a bit on the armrest of the now empty chair to his left, and Hermione saw his eyes shine with genuine curiosity.
Hermione wanted to say he wasn't her Lord, but somehow, she felt it would be wiser if she kept that comment to herself.
She was all alone with the most notorious Death Eaters as her only company—as Voldemort was nowhere to be seen—and Hermione tried not to let it bother her that she felt safer with the Dark Lord around.
Would they hurt her when Voldemort was not present? Probably not, seeing that no one made a move or drew a wand when the Dark Lord had left—where did he go?—and it probably meant that she was safe.
If they also knew about the Horcrux …
What did Voldemort tell them?
Hermione did not know why, but today Malfoy Senior wasn't so annoying.
Maybe because she was seeing a different side of him—silent and busy—and he was the only one here she knew—except for the Lestranges—and he was the sanest of the bunch …
Hermione decided he was the lesser of evils.
"I think I challenged him," Hermione answered honestly, sipping the best champagne she had ever tried.
The look on the Malfoy's face made Hermione almost choke on the sparkling drink.
"You know, Miss Granger," Lucius whispered, and Hermione leaned to her right to hear him better, "you are either the stupidest or the bravest witch I have ever seen. Or both."
Hermione sighed as she had to agree that Malfoy was most probably correct.
"Last times we'd met, you were studying with the Dark Lord, and I couldn't help but notice that his hood had been up both times." Lucius wasn't mocking her; he was very polite and Hermione was interested now as to why he would ask such a weird question.
Wasn't Voldemort always wearing the hood?
"Yes. He always wears the hood up and the leather gloves," Hermione answered honestly, and she saw Malfoy's eyes light up with what Hermione could only describe as curiosity and amusement.
"I see," Malfoy drawled slowly, his eyes sparkling, and his smile looked sadistic for a moment.
Did he know what Voldemort looked like under the hood?
He probably did.
Were it the horns?
Did Bellatrix know it too?
"Enjoy the show, Miss Granger." Lucius smiled slightly, but his eyes were still curious and calculating.
"I will, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you," Hermione replied, and Lucius turned to his documents, but he now looked at the arena from time to time.
Well, that was weird, Hermione thought, frowning before turning back to face the arena.
Now was not the time to think about the Dark Lord and his promise. And the freaky kiss.
She wanted to watch Aurelius Magenta, and later, when she got home, she'd worry about her impulsive reaction. And probably empty all her wine bottles.
Now was not the time.
xxx
He was the best dueler, Hermione thought with a fond smile as Aurelius Girard—in his bright magenta-colored robes—defeated his opponent with such ease that it looked like he was fighting against a first-year and not a fully trained wizard.
Aurelius was handsome in a weird sense. His hair was pale-pink and he had a handsome face—the monitors above the arena allowed close view when they zoomed in on his grinning smile—and Hermione had a sense of déjà vu—she had been looking at Lockhart with the same emotions during her second year.
The only difference was that Aurelius Girard could fight like a champion, unlike the useless fraud that Lockhart turned out to be.
Aurelius Girard was waving to the cheering crowds, who mostly gathered to see a possible Dark Lord perform when Hermione noticed another person approach the area.
A man was slowly climbing the stairs to the dueling platform, and Hermione's curious eyes took in every little detail.
He was wearing no robe, and Hermione's hungry eyes noted the dark grey trousers, the silky grey vest, and the slightly shimmering silvery shirt before she lifted her gaze and looked at his face.
It was a sin to look like that.
Hermione mentally drooled and decided she'd now cheer for the Hottie—she didn't know his name but she needed to call him something, and "the Ice Hottie" was the best possible comparison.
He looked so …
Hermione again could not find the correct word to describe him, and she wondered if something was happening to her brain.
First Voldemort, and now the Ice Hottie.
She wasn't the only one, Hermione thought with a smile as she watched the crowds lean closer, hungrily staring at the monitors that now showed the handsome stranger.
The short, black hair looked silky even from where she was sitting, and Hermione wondered how it would feel if she touched it.
The man looked no older than thirty—at maximum, thirty five—and Hermione wondered again who he was.
She was sure she had never seen the stranger before as she would have remembered seeing someone like that.
A straight nose, high cheekbones, sensual lips, and eyes so pale that the irises reminded Hermione of frozen ice-cubes were now shown on one screen and Aurelius's pink hair on the other.
He looked like a clown compared to the Ice Hottie, Hermione thought, smiling.
Who was he?
Hermione watched as the Ice Hottie took his stand opposite of Aurelius Magenta, who was now looking at the newcomer with squinted eyes.
It looks like I'm the only one unaware of the stranger's identity.
"If you want to fight a Dark Lord, you need to stand in line."
Hermione heard Aurelius Magenta drawl arrogantly in his lightly accented voice, but his posture wasn't as carefree as it was before. He looked tense.
So he was planning on getting the title for himself, Hermione thought with pursed lips.
Why did all good-looking and talented guys have to be bad?
Looking at the Ice Hottie, Hermione wondered if he was also bad.
Judging by the looks, he was the baddest of them all.
Hermione would have blushed at her own thoughts, but Voldemort wasn't here—where was he?!—and Hermione was a young woman. There was nothing wrong appreciating beauty.
The Ice-Hottie smirked mockingly, and without paying attention to the now insanely cheering crowd, he tilted his head to the right, his shoulders relaxed and figure tall.
No.
No, no, no, no.
Hermione's heart was in her stomach as a sense of doom took over her now galloping heart.
If they were any vampires around, Hermione was sure they'd be deaf because even she could hear her heart going bum-bum-bum in her chest, ready to jump out at the horrifying suspicion.
She had seen only one person stand like that.
And the familiar tilt of the head to the right ...
Those impossibly pale eyes suddenly zoomed in on her and Hermione recognized the piercing gaze now.
Voldemort.
A sly smirk stretched over those sensual lips and the stranger—Voldemort!—winked at her before looking at the pink-haired wizard with a mocking, sly smile that Hermione had recognized. She had seen Voldemort smirk like that when he was still looking like a monster.
Fuck.
She had challenged Voldemort when she thought he looked like a snake, and she'd drooled at the Ice Hottie … and it was the same person. He had been looking like that all along and she didn't know.
No wonder he found it so funny.
Fuck!
Hermione could feel another gaze at her, and she looked to the right at the now smiling Lucius Malfoy.
"Enjoying the show, Miss Granger?"
And Lucius laughed lightly as he leaned on the parapet where all the Death Eaters were now standing with eager faces, looking at their Master with adoration and proudness.
Fuck.
xxx
Looking at the wannabe Pink Lord, Voldemort sneered.
This was the wizard who wanted to become a Dark Lord? This waste of magic?
He was good, Voldemort noted, but he wasn't good enough to become a Dark Lord or to even try.
A Dark Lord was so much more.
Like he was.
While Voldemort would have preferred to watch his Mudblood's expression some more—it was just priceless!—he had matters much more important to deal with before he had the time for his curious little Horcrux.
Today, he was going to make sure no one questioned his power anymore.
There could be only one Dark Lord.
And France was his.
xxx
"You, a Dark Lord?"
Hermione heard Voldemort's laughing, cold voice echo around the stadium, and with frozen eyes, she watched as a bone-white wand appeared in his now un-gloved hand.
There was no doubt.
It was Voldemort.
Hermione would have preferred the horns and missing eyes instead of what she was seeing.
He was the Master of Death, Hermione reminded herself, needing to divert her panicking thoughts from the direction they were taking.
But why did he look like that? The book he had given her had nothing in it about turning an ugly serpentine face to this. What else had he done?
Hermione's unsteady legs made her lean harder on the parapet, her gaze not leaving Voldemort's tall figure even for a second.
The second screen showed a close-up of the face of Aurelius Magenta, and Hermione saw the moment he understood who was standing before him.
Animalistic fear clouded his brown eyes, but the proud stand did not falter even for a second.
At least he wasn't a wuss, Hermione noted.
The crowd quieted down, unsure of what was happening when Voldemort smirked again and addressed the crowd.
"A true Dark Lord does not stand in line."
The sudden silence was deafening as the huge second screen showed Voldemort's face with now burning red eyes.
"Why are you here, Lord Voldemort?" Magenta's voice wasn't shaking, but it wasn't as boastful as before. He wasn't a fool.
Hermione heard sharp intakes of breaths in the now deadly silent crowd.
The Dark Lord slowly took a few steps closer to the pink-haired wizard, and Hermione could hear his polished shoes click on the smooth surface.
The crowd was that quiet.
"To see the magnificent show, of course. Why else would I be here?" Voldemort was still smirking and Hermione found the word she had been looking for when she first saw the Ice Hottie.
He looked lethal.
Girard looked a bit off as he tried to understand what was going to happen.
"I welcome you to France," he finally said, deciding to talk to his "colleague" before anything happened.
The sudden laugh that escaped Voldemort was simply creepy, and Hermione shivered when she heard Bellatrix giggle.
What was the reason why they were here?
Now Hermione was sure they didn't come to see the show.
Was Voldemort planning on challenging the possible new Dark Lord? Was that the reason?
Hermione's already in-need-of-medical-attention heart was squeezed with a metal hand when she heard Voldemort's reply.
"It is I who welcome you to France." The smirk was now gone and serious, red eyes were now shining with power.
What?!
"Enough talk. Raise your wand and show what you're capable of, Pink Lord," Voldemort raised his own wand, letting the magenta-clad wizard understand that it wasn't negotiable.
Hermione had never seen Lord Voldemort duel, and even though she had matters much more important to mull over, she leaned even further on the parapet, not wanting to miss a second.
She wanted to see Voldemort's magic again.
And judging by the deafening, euphoric noises from the crowds, she wasn't the only one.
A true Dark Lord was challenging a wannabe Dark Lord and they all got to see it.
The highlight of the evening.
xxx
a/n So, as my wonderful beta reminded me, Voldemort's eyes are "dark" in the books, I'm going with the movie version and give him pale-pale bluish eyes. I am not only shallow, so I am doing it for a reason :P But no worries, he can change them anytime he wishes! Cannot erase red, can I?
And in case you have the question as to why would Voldemort challenge another Dark Wizard- he is the Master of Death and he's a show-off. With Dumbledore dead it leaves no one he's afraid of. So why wouldn't he do it?
And about Malfoy and Bella knowing about the Horcrux- I'll explain it in the next chapters, but, as Voldemort is the Master of Death , I think he'd tell his closest DE about the Horcrux in Hermione. And I need it for the story ;P
If you have any other question, let me know and I'll gladly answer if I can without spoiling the story. Waves!
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Two Steps From Hell