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The Dragon Chronicles	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
New chapter from yours truly! I hope you are still enjoying the story?
Many thanks and chocolate puddings to Randombitsofstars who beta:ed this chapter! She will be busy for a few weeks and thus, Ozzy have agreed to beta for a couple of chapters after this one.
Ozzy is also the one who have made the book cover on this story and the ones I use nowadays to announce chapters on my tumblr site: theladymiya.tumblr.com
I also want to thank everyone for reviewing. You give me life! If you have left a review, you’ll find your reply on my tumblr site!
Enjoy
Chapter 13
Hermione stared down at her desk. The Headmistress desk. It mirrored her lifestyle, covered in things mostly practical. Quills, ink bottles, spare parchment were spread across the surface in a neat row, with the Hogwarts insignia and wax for official papers lying adjacent.
The only personal belonging gracing the wood’s surface was a photo of her, Harry and Ron. The only catch was, the photograph was charmed. If any person besides herself inspected it (Voldemort) they would only see a benign picture of Hogwarts, with students merrily strolling across its autumn leaf-covered lawn. But the important part was that she could see her best friends, that she could gather strength from them and their familiar movements. The photo reminded herself why she was doing this.
Glancing up from the picture, Hermione muttered “I don’t know what is taking Professor McGonagall so long.” Her statement was aimed at the only other person in the room, currently shifting uncomfortably in the armchair in front of her desk.
Draco Malfoy.
He seemed to be as reluctant to be alone with her as she was to be with him. It had been ages since they were alone together; even then, it had probably just been in a hallway, passing each other, with him hissing “Mudblood” to her.
Now, however, they had important things to talk about. Several of the older students were giving Malfoy a hard time, and was affecting his teaching. Simply put, they didn’t want to listen to him because he was a Death Eater. And since Hermione had forbidden everyone to hex the students, he couldn’t get them to fear him as the Carrows had.
Hermione was both amused and annoyed by his problem. Amused, because she thought Malfoy deserved contempt to a certain extent. Some of his students had been teased and bullied by Malfoy when he was a student and it felt like justice was being served. On the other hand, she was annoyed. If Malfoy didn’t manage to teach them, she would have to find another teacher - and she doubted she and Voldemort would be able to agree on another Death Eater.
Thus, she and McGonagall had decided to discuss the situation Malfoy and try to come to a solution. The only problem was that McGonagall was running late. Now they were alone. And Hermione didn’t know what to say to Malfoy.
“I guess she had some problem with her last class or something,” Malfoy commented, fidgeting, not meeting her eyes. He was studying the threads on the armchair intently, his fingers following the criss-cross pattern with unprecedented interest.
It really was a bizarre situation. There was a war going on and she and Malfoy were on opposite sides. And here they were, trying to get students to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts – a subject they would need no matter which side in the war they choose.
The thought made her snort.
Malfoy looked up at her, frowning.
She cleared her voice. “Yes, I believe she has the fifth year Hufflepuff/Slytherin last period. They have started to transfigure each other. She’s probably trying to undo the spell of some student that has turned their arms into chicken wings.”
Malfoy smiled weakly. “Yeah. I remember Crabbe got stuck with a tail for a week when we had that class. He and Goyle were really lousy at Transfiguration.”
“Yes, I’ll never know how they managed to graduate at all,” she scoffed.
“Bribes, I think,” Malfoy said softly. “Didn’t help them much in the real world, though.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, curious.
Malfoy shrugged. “They are dead now. Didn’t even last a month as … you know.”
He looked down at the threads of the armchairs again.
Now, however, she studied him more closely. She had always hated the boy, and she didn’t think she would ever grow to like him. But a part of her felt pity for him. He had watched his friends die for someone else’s cause.
A cause he didn’t seem to care so much about anymore.
She knew the feeling.
She remembered what Harry had told her about Malfoy in their sixth year. How he had cried in the bathroom, unable to go through with an order the Dark Lord had given him. He must have been really lonely if the only person he felt he could open up to was the fifty year old ghost of a girl haunting a bathroom. Did he have someone to lean on now, or was he still as alone as he had been two years ago?
Not sure what else to say, she went back to study at her own desk. Perhaps she should have more things on it. Dumbledore had always displayed a lot of magical devices. That would have been cool to have. And a good distraction in situations like this.
Thankfully, McGonagall entered the office. Finally, their meeting could start.
“From what I can tell, Draco, you are far from the worst teacher we have seen in Defence Against the Dark Arts,” McGonagall started after sitting down. “And yet the students have always been respectful enough to listen in the class. Or at least, they haven’t disrupted them.”
“Do you think it would help if you and I speak with them?” Hermione asked. “From what I can see, it’s usually Gryffindors that protest.”
McGonagall frowned. “If it comes to that, we will try. However, that will hardly make Draco seem like a competent teacher if he has to hide behind others.”
“I don’t want to hide,” Malfoy interjected. “I have tried to make them listen to me, but I can hardly get a word in before someone starts another blasted prank.”
Hermione sighed. “I wish they would just understand that this is something they need to learn. I mean, the study plan is one of the best we have had at Hogwarts since Professor Lupin.”
Malfoy made a grimace at the name, but when Hermione sent him a dark look, he quickly schooled his features into an appropriate neutral expression.
“Most students don’t care about reading the study plan,” he said instead. “As far as they are concerned, I’m worse than Umbridge.”
McGonagall scoffed. “No one can be a worse educator than Dolores Umbridge.”
“Perhaps we could show that Draco actually knows what he is doing?” Hermione suggested. “Like the duelling club we had our second year. Everyone knew the disarming spell after Snape had shown it.”
McGonagall sent her a look of approval. “Yes, a fair duel between Draco and someone the students look up to. Perhaps you, Hermione?”
“Me?” Hermione said, glancing at Draco who had grown paler. “Don’t you think it would be counterproductive when I win?”
She didn’t mean to sound so cocky, but she had been in fights for her life and learned a lot from Harry who was probably the best duellists their age. Malfoy could hardly say the same.
McGonagall smiled. “Not if it’s a fair fight. And perhaps after that, Draco could duel the students? You should win that, I believe.”
Malfoy nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I could bet the students, but… I don’t want to hurt Granger.”
Both Hermione and McGonagall looked at him in surprise.
Malfoy sank back in his chair. “The Death Eaters have orders not to harm you.”
Hermione snorted. “I’ll get you a special permission from Voldemort for the duel. It’s not like we’ll be casting illegal spells at each other.”
“Then it’s decided. We’ll have a duel between the two of you and some students on… shall we say Friday evening? Directly after dinner?”
Hermione nodded. “Perhaps we could have a competition in class this week. The top two students in every class will be allowed to duel Draco. If any of them don’t want to, then the third best will be allowed to take their spot and so on. That way, they’ll hopefully be more motivated this coming week.”
“Good idea,” McGonagall praised her. “What do you think, Draco?”
Malfoy nodded slowly. “But what if this doesn’t work?”
“Then we’ll revisit the subject,” McGonagall said with a tone of finality. “I’ll arrange to have posters placed in all common rooms. Now, if you excuse me, I have to help Madam Pomfrey with a student who keeps coughing up yellow feathers when he barks. And we still have no idea why his tail is green...”
She shook her head and left the office.
“Good night, Headmistress,” Malfoy said, and followed McGonagall out of the office.
Alone again, Hermione leant back in her chair, letting out a sigh of relief. Hopefully, the duel would do the trick.
“You are improving greatly as Headmistress, if I may say so,” Dumbledore said from his portrait behind her chair.
Hermione rose and faced her old Headmaster, smiling. “Thank you, Professor. I never knew how much work there was.”
“I think that’s true for all professions,” Dumbledore agreed. “How are you holding up in your private life, my child?”
She sighed. “As well as can be expected. He mostly ignores me.”
Instead of looking relieved, Dumbledore frowned. “Have you done anything to please him?”
Hermione frowned. “Not that I know of. I haven’t fought him, so I guess he is pleased about that. Why?”
“It’s puzzling that Voldemort would choose to spend so much time alone with you. Don’t misunderstand me, my dear, you are pleasant company, but hardly the type Lord Voldemort appreciate.”
“You think he is planning something?” she asked.
“Oh, I think we can safely assume that he is planning something. As to what, we can only guess.”
“And what are your guesses?” Hermione asked, feeling her chest constrict in worry.
“What are his goals in life? He already controls most of the country, but he has lost his Horcruxes,” Dumbledore said solemnly.
“You think he wants to use me to regain his ‘immortality’?” she asked, frowning, not able to see how that would be possible even.
“As I said, I can only guess. However, other than him, you are the only individual to bond with a dragon. Could it be possible that he has found a way to do it through that and wants to use you as a test subject?” Dumbledore asked.
Hermione slowly shook her head. “There is nothing in the Dragon Chronicles about immortality. I mean, you supposedly live longer than normal because of the dragon, but just like dragons, you die in the end.”
“Never underestimate him, my child,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “He is very talented at creating new spells. It’s possible that he has used the information in the Chronicles to construct a new type of magic altogether.”
She grimaced. “If he has, he isn’t sharing with me, that’s for sure.”
“No, it would greatly surprise me if he did,” he agreed with a smile.
A feeling of paranoia overtook her suddenly, and she felt forced to add, “And it’s not like I have the time or the power to question him about it. I’m here to protect this school. If I were to poke around and he found out, then he would just appoint another Death Eater as Headmaster and the students would be at risk. I can’t have that.”
Dumbledore nodded sagely. “It’s an admirable mission you have taken on, Headmistress Granger. I for one am very relieved the students have you as their protector.”
Bidding Dumbledore a good night, Hermione decided to turn in. When she came down to her chambers, Voldemort was already there, sitting at the desk in the far corner of the room, a mountain of books piled upon it. He was scribbling something with his right hand, as his left hand held open an ancient-looking tome. The book had a green cover and markings that seemed to be done in pure gold.
However, when she came closer, he looked up and placed the quill down. With a wave of his hand, everything on the desk disappeared.
Of course he was able to do advanced wandless magic. Show-off.
Hermione arched her eyebrows in surprise. “What were you working on?”
He rolled his eyes. “Something I clearly don’t want you to know about. How was your day?”
“I had a meeting with McGonagall and Malfoy about how we should motivate some of his students to learn,” she said, not wanting to tell Voldemort that the students were disrespecting one of his Death Eaters. For all she knew, Voldemort would just take care of it himself, and that would lead to hurt students.
“We decided that he and I would start off with a duel as a demonstration and then let the top students in every class have a go, so they will see how competent he is.”
“Oh?”
“That is, if you let him,” Hermione continued. “For some reason, he seems to think that you’d hurt him if he hurt me, even if it were in a duel.”
Voldemort snorted. “I very much doubt he will be able to hurt you much in a fair fight. The boy is sufficient in a duel, but you will be able to overpower him in seconds.”
Hermione was surprised and a little bit flattered by his estimation. “You really think so?”
“Of course, you have your dragon that gives you extra power,” he said, throwing himself down on the sofa, picking up another book he had left on the coffee table. This one was in German and about invisibility if she could piece the title together correctly. Hermione had tried to read it a couple of nights ago when he hadn’t been around. The only thing she could understand was that it was about some new discovery about the uses of the stem in the amaranth to make things invisible.
“Oh. Of course.” She hadn’t taken Kara into account when proposing the duel. It would make it very unfair. She would have to hold back, otherwise the students would think that Malfoy was weak. “But you’re okay with it, even if he manages to hit me?”
“Yes, I can’t say I care one way or the other.”
Hermione frowned. “But you don’t want your Death Eater to harm me?”
Voldemort lowered his book and looked at her in amusement. “My Death Eaters are killing Mudbloods like you as a sport. Of course they need to be ordered not to harm you. Otherwise, the whole swarm of them would have come after you. That would not have been a fair fight.”
That was not the answer she had wanted. She was reminded of Dumbledore’s words. At first, Voldemort had only married her as a way to lure out Harry. It had worked. Then, she had come here and sacrificed Snape to take over the school. But all of it had never really answered why Voldemort had let her live. Even though he couldn’t let Snape live after what she had told him, he could easily have found someone else to be the Head of Hogwarts.
What was he planning, and what role did she have in it? Was it like Dumbledore said and it had something to do with immortality, or was it something else?
“Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about?” Voldemort asked.
Hermione snapped out from her thoughts. “Oh, no, not really. I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“It just hit me that I don’t know what you do during the days,” she improvised. “Are you just going around, giving your Death Eaters orders or what?”
He scoffed. “No. Although, it is very satisfying to have hundreds of people following your every whim.”
“I can imagine,” she muttered and sat down in the armchair closest to the fireplace.
xxx
Voldemort was slightly annoyed to get summoned away from his research, but his followers said they had captured an Order member and he was curious to find out who it was. Because of his new relationship with Granger, he wanted to interrogate all Order members personally to find out everything he could about her.
He arrived at Malfoy Manor – where all war prisoners were held before being either killed or sent to Azkaban – and was greeted by Bellatrix Lestrange.
“Master!” she cried, throwing herself on the floor and kissing the hem of his robe.
“That’s enough, Bella,” Voldemort said, rolling his eyes. He had more important things to do than listening to Bella’s brown nosing. “Show me whom you have captured.”
“We got the Weasley twins,” Bella said, getting onto her feet again and leading him down to the dungeon. “We think Potter has been hiding with them because they put up a fight to delay us from searching their hiding place.”
“Of course they put on a fight,” Voldemort said dryly. “They are Order members and Gryffindors. It does not mean Potter was with them. Nevertheless, they can still be useful. Stay here.”
They had reached the door to the cellar where the prisoners were kept. It should only be the Weasley twins there now. After Potter had broken out of here the night Voldemort had met Hermione, he had been quicker to judge and transport prisoners to where he wanted them.
The Weasley twins were shackled to the wall, their hands in heavy iron chains above their heads. However, despite the uncomfortable position they both grinned when he entered.
“Wow,” the twin to the right exclaimed. “I heard you had got a makeover, but this is amazing!”
“You have to tell us what you did,” the left twin continued. “We are always in the market for new products, and a facelift like that would really sell.”
“Yes, we could call it ‘Face up - the magical remedy for your facial tragedy!’,” the right twin said with the voice of a commercial announcer.
“I could use it myself,” the twin to the left said, tilting his head, showing Voldemort that he was missing an ear.
“Yeah, we really miss being identical,” the right twin said sorrowfully.
“Please don’t hold out on your fellow dismembered wizards,” the left one begged.
“That’s enough,” Voldemort said, his voice soft and dangerous.
The twins had enough sense to fall silent, but they didn’t look at all scared. Well, he would no doubt be able to change that quickly.
“I recognise your voices,” he continued. “You have been broadcasting Potterwatch.”
“You have been tuning in?” the twin to the left asked in amazement. “Did you like it? It’s always nice to meet a fan.”
Voldemort chuckled. “Part of it was very amusing. Especially the bit where you reassure your listeners that I can’t kill with just my eyes, or any other body part that can’t hold a wand. Alas, it is illegal to broadcast anything without permission from the Ministry of Magic.”
“And the Dark Lord himself goes after everyone who runs an illegal radio show nowadays?” the right twin asked in disbelief. “You must be really running out of things to conquer.”
In a swift movement, Voldemort brought out his wand and cast the Cruciatus Curse on the right twin. His screams echoed against the bare stone walls of the cellar hideously. When Voldemort finally released him from the curse, the shackles were the only thing keeping the insolent boy upright.
“You will be sent to Azkaban for your crime, of course. That is not why I’m here,” Voldemort continued. “You are friends of my wife and she is not very forthcoming about her childhood. If you cooperate, your sentence will not be as severe.”
“What’s there to tell about Hermione?” the tortured twin said, his voice weaker now, but still managing to hold on to that annoyingly cheerful tone. “She is a spoilsport. Isn’t that right, George?”
“Yes, always tried to stop our research for new products to sell. I guess you suit each other in that sense,” the twin to the left – George – said.
“Yeah, she also had something against fun illegal activity,” the other twin chimed in.
“Don’t get us wrong,” George continued. “She had her heart in the right place. She is just not very flexible when it comes to what she thinks is right and wrong. It makes sense that she’s the new Headmistress.”
“I don’t believe I told you to talk about her,” Voldemort said, amused.
He went up to the tortured twin first and leant down, grabbing his chin and placed his wand against the side of his head.
The Weasley twin did know some Occlumency, but after the torture, Voldemort had no problem tearing through them – especially since he didn’t care about the memories the young man wanted to hide the most.
Instead, he saw Granger, yelling at the twins for conducting experiments on first years. Then another time, she was yelling at them for disrupting the peace in the common room. She seemed to have yelled and scolded them a lot throughout the years and in the young man’s mind, the memories were almost indistinguishable. Only a few stood out.
Granger, waiting in the entrance hall, on the arm of someone who the twins recognized as Viktor Krum. She was beautiful in a blue dress, hair tamed for the night, a nervous smile gracing her lips.
Then, in another, she was laughing with their sister next to a lake, dressed in only a red and white striped bikini, the sun shining through her frizzy hair. The water glistened on her dark skin, highlighting her narrow hips and supple legs. It was the first time this twin had seen her as a woman, as a person to be desired. But the boy never would have tried to bed her, not with his brother Ron in love with her. He didn’t want to come between of that.
Voldemort withdrew from the twin’s mind, thoughtful. Did Granger love the youngest Weasley boy? Was that why she was so reluctant to give in to the effects of the potion?
“I have changed my mind,” he said, out loud. “You will go back to work in your joke shop under the supervision of one of my Death Eaters.”
“Sorry pal, that won’t happen,” George said.
“No, we don’t work well while supervised, we need our creative freedom,” the other twin chimed in.
Voldemort smiled. “I will give you twenty-four hours to contemplate my offer. If you refuse, I will kill one of you and send the other one to Azkaban.”
As he had known, that rendered them both speechless. They had never dared to dream of such atrocities. If they went down, they went down together. Living alone without the other – that was their greatest fear.
“I will be back tomorrow,” Voldemort said lightly, and exited the cellar with a swoosh of his robes.
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The Dragon Chronicles