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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
- 14
- 15
- 16
The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

And you are such a fool

To worry like you do

I know it's tough, and you can never get enough

Of what you don't really need now... my oh my

I was unconscious, half asleep

The water is warm till you discover how deep...

I wasn't jumping... for me it was a fall

It's a long way down to nothing at all

You've got to get yourself together

You've got stuck in a moment and now you can't get out of it

Don't say that later will be better now

You're stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it

And if the night runs over

And if the day won't last

And if your way should falter

Along the stony pass

It's just a moment

This time will pass

U2; Stuck in a moment

Chapter fifteen

Utterly satisfied Lord Voldemort leaves his study. He is certain he has dealt a significant blow to Hermione's spirit by showing her how wrong the Weasley boy was for someone of her intelligence and power. Her tears told him she now fully understood how ludicrous the emotion of love truly is. It makes people be with those that are incompatible to them. So many people who should not be together are because of love. Pfftt… Love does not empower you. Merlin had it all wrong. The fool. And he snorts as he remembers the chapter title above the text that described the events that occurred between him and Granger.

'Love: the magical force that overpowers all.'

His high-pitched, cold laugh resonates through the corridor. Love makes you soft and weak. He knows this to be true. He has seen it all over the globe, intelligent people who turned into mind-boggling morons, because they needed to love someone. Lord Voldemort has always despised the emotion and he feels a thoroughly healthy revulsion towards those who grave it, or even worse, search for it. Disgusting, that's what it is, disgusting and useless. Love, a magical power. HA! Never in a million years.

Well, at least now Hermione knows how useless it is too. His hand rests on the doorknob to his living room as he relishes in his victory. She broke down in front of him; finally. He closes his eyes and savours the moment. She is his now, truly his. And it makes him feel on top of the world. He finally broke the wretched, insolent girl; if there would have been any Weasleys left alive, he would have sent them a thank you message. For all he needs to do now is put her back together. Lord Voldemort will show her true power and force. He is so looking forward to watch her fall into darkness and live up to her rightful potential. She will become a dark force to be reckoned with. And she will be all his. His! At last, someone to talk to who isn't mentally handicapped. He smirks and swoops through the door to see if the elf has had any success in locating the Amulet, yet.

As he walks inside his own living room he sees Maglor sitting on the ground, his legs bend underneath him. A silver cord with a strangely glowing emerald stone twirls above a map of the UK. The sheer concentration is written all over the elf's face as the cord keeps moving about, while Silimaurë chants in Elfish. Voldemort sits down on his black leather couch and takes on a leisure posture. Soon, the Amulet of Aine will be his, despite all of Hermione's efforts to keep it from him. It will be brought to him by one of its makers, so he will finally reach his lifelong ambition of immortality once more. He watches the elf scry and wonders how these proud creatures can possibly be related to their slave-like relatives who crowd up the kitchen of Hogwarts. What could have happened in the past that caused such a huge evolutionary distinction? He knows their kinship is why Silimaurë was able to pass the Hogwarts Wards without being noticed. Elf-magic is allowed in. It's a true testament to the existing blood bond between House-elves and the Elves of Everon that the wards can't distinguish between their magic.

A deep frown appears on Maglor's face and he twirls the cord around his hand, snatching the stone in his fist. A frustrated growl is uttered next and the elf flies to his feet.

'Impossible,' Silimaurë mutters and he starts pacing the room, 'how has she accomplished that?'

Voldemort watches the elf warily. Surely, Granger couldn't have found a method to hide the Amulet from them.

'Accomplished what?' he asks quietly.

The corner of his mouth tugs upward in joy, when Maglor shrieks and jumps ten feet up in the air in shock upon hearing his voice. Apparently, the elf missed the arrival of Lord Voldemort in the room earlier, but now he has come to the realisation that he isn't alone and he is eyeing Voldemort somewhat uneasy. Yes, the elf is nervous. Voldemort is certain of that now and he pushes himself out of the couch.

'I asked you a question, Silimaurë. I don't like to be kept waiting,' he adds warningly.

The elf throws his hands in the air in defeat. 'I can't find the bloody amulet anywhere. It's impossible. There is no way she could have hidden it from us, no way,' Silimaurë adds disbelievingly and somewhat resentful, like he is insulted by the concept. 'Are you certain she has hidden it in this country?'

Lord Voldemort frowns his forehead, before he smirks condescendingly. 'She had no way of leaving; if she had, she would not have returned to this country. Maybe it's your skill in scrying that is lacking,' he suggests to the already indignant elf.

Maglor grumbles in outrage and paces to the map. A flick of the elf's wrist and it lands in his hands. 'Look!' he says angrily, and he plants the map on the table, unrolls the cord and starts scrying again.

Voldemort folds his arms over each other and stares down patronising. The stone starts to glow and hovers over an area, but does not pinpoint an exact location. Maglor raises his other hand in despair. 'Impossible, truly impossible,' he squeaks, sounding more like a House-elf now than before. 'It's supposed to land. I can't imagine what is blocking the reception.'

But Voldemort is staring at the seaside area the stone is hovering above and he feels a deep fury build up inside of him. That little witch couldn't possibly have hidden the Amulet there of all places; the nerve of the woman. Still, he knows it will explain why the scrying isn't working to its full extend. He went out of his way to block every magical output himself from inside that place a long time ago. He also knows he would never have thought to look there. After the Horcrux disaster, he swore to himself never to set foot in that cave ever again. So it would have been the perfect hiding place. If she… And he stares into thin air contemplating on the options, but the more he considers it, the more he realises that Granger would have had the gall to take the Amulet there.

'I know where it is,' he suddenly hisses furious, before he swirls out of the room and leaves Maglor standing alone, flabbergasted.

Voldemort paces through the corridor; he flips out his wand and blasts the door to the study open, before swirling inside. Granger's head flies up in shock at the sudden act of violence, while he marches toward her. She is still sitting on the couch, curled up like a ball with her arms around her legs. Her face is tearstained, so he can tell she stopped crying not that long ago. But he really doesn't feel like taking her emotional state into account at the moment. He grabs a hold of her upper arm without saying a word and drags her of the couch. The book that was lying beside her plummets to the ground.

'Wh… what?' she stutters, confused.

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her roughly toward him. 'You're going to be very sorry if you hid it in there,' he whispers into her ear menacingly.

'Hid what in where?' Hermione asks stupidly.

He sees her inquiring, puzzled expression as she turns her head to the side and glances upward to him for some clue to what brought about his current state of mind. But he has no interest in responding and a gasp escapes her mouth as he draws on her magic to Disapparate them both out of Hogwarts. They arrive outside with the distinctive cracking sound and a brisk autumn breeze greets them, while he thrusts her magic back into her. A small wail escapes her lips, but she recovers fast, while he examines their surroundings. They are standing right on top of a high outcrop of dark, bare rock. It's around noon on a sunny September day, so the scene isn't nearly as intimidating as he would have liked it to be, but he feels pleased, when he notices Granger is pushing her body into him in fright. He has no doubt she wants to get away from the edge with her fear of heights and he holds her tightly, while she tries to wrestle away.

'Jog any memory yet?' he hisses coldly.

A baffled facial expression is all the response he gets, and he realises she is either a wonderful actress or has done a remarkable job of Obliviating the precise areas of her brain. 'Come on, Granger. Surely Potter has told you about this place,' and he whispers the location in her ear.

She stops her foolish attempts to wrestle free and stares back at him, astonished. Her pupils dilate in fear and she starts shaking her head vigorously as she looks down at the sea below, which water is foaming and churning dangerously.

'A wonderful place to hide an item such as an Amulet, wouldn't you agree?' he snarls.

'No, no, I couldn't have…' she whispers so soft he can barely hear it.

But he isn't in the mood to hear her objections and with a harsh push in the shoulder he shoves her over the edge. A chilling scream reaches his eardrums as Lord Voldemort casually glances over the edge to watch her plummet towards the treacherous waters below. His face is set blank, uncaring, as shown in the reflection of the shiny black rock's surface. A splash follows quickly and he waits calculatedly. Suddenly, Granger resurfaces coughing and sneezing, while mowing her arms around rather wildly, before submerging completely again. It's when he remembers the wench can't swim. Terrific, now he has to get into these uninviting waters himself, which is not what he was planning on doing. He waves his wand around and flies downward. Hovering above the sea's surface he considers his options. Perhaps a Summoning Charm will do the trick? He does have the so-called Elder Wand. It's supposed to be able to perform miracles and he will do anything for not having to dive into that.

'Accio Hermione Jean Granger,' he casts without conviction.

It doesn't work, as he expected. After all, you can only summon objects not persons. And that wand is just a stupid myth, nothing more. He should have known. All the signs were there. Grindelwald got outmatched in duelling Dumbledore, while whipping the Deathstick around. And even clearer in retrospect, Dumbledore did not beat him with this stick in the Ministry so many years ago. It is a sure testament this wand is useless to whoever has it. He sighs and watches the water in disgust, if she will only resurface once more, he can grab her and he won't have to get wet also. But he realises it is taken too long and he does need her alive, so with another sigh, he dives into the water resentful. It's as ice-cold as he remembers, and he flicks his wrist to administer a heating charm around his person. Something he was unable to do as a young boy.

'Lumos,' he adds nonverbally.

His head swivels left and right to locate Granger, but all he sees is darkness in the sea that is whirling and rotating around him. He feels the current pulling him sideways and downwards, but it does not bother him. He needs to find her first. It's when Lord Voldemort realises he can use their compatible magic to locate her. He concentrates and then pushes his magic through the water into every direction around him. A split-second later, he knows where she is and he uses magic to dive down at an incredible speed. A limp and lifeless body is being pulled down by a maelstrom in the light of his wand and he grabs a hold of her arm and changes direction quickly. Water is thrown in every direction as they resurface out of the sea forcefully and he flies them away to the fissure. He hovers before it and starts hissing and spitting without drawing in breath.

A crack is followed by another and soon the fissure widens above the sea and he flies in, hissing in Parseltongue back at the opening after passing through in order to close it again. He lands them in the middle of the entrance cave. A Drying Charm takes care of the wet robes that are clinging annoyingly to his body and Lord Voldemort kneels down beside the unconscious girl, before placing his hand on her ribcage. His crimson eyes flutter shut as he concentrates on her. Sparks fly through the air and the cave turns brightly lit as he uses his magic to empty her lungs of the fluid that is in there. Another jolt of electricity gets her heart pumping again and he can feel her stir underneath his hand.

Suddenly, she rolls to her side and starts coughing uncontrollably. He opens his eyes to see her brown orbs open wide and looking around slightly disoriented. His hand caresses her back with his magic, because that coughing sound is irritating him severely and he wants it to stop now. Finally, she calms down a bit and he stares at her ghostlike, white face. A few strands of wet, brown curls are sticking to her cheek. He is mesmerised by the contrast and moves his hand to touch her face and remove the hair out of the way. As he touches her he realises nothing happens. He feels nothing and it pleases him immensely. At last, things are back to normal. He should have known all it will take is her submission to make him stop obsessing.

Her lips are still blue and he feels her shiver relentlessly underneath his hands in those wet robes she is wearing. Her teeth are clattering noisily on each other, so he is certain she must be very cold. A vile smile makes its way to his features. It must be dreadful for her to have so much power and not be able to use it without his permission. He tilts his head and watches the shivering witch meticulously. Should he allow her to warm herself? Perhaps she deserves this punishment for making him come back to a place Potter defiled with his mere presence? He is still reminiscing on this, when…

'A..are … yo…you … cra … zy?' Hermione hisses in between shivers.

Surprised, he looks down at her. Her brown eyes are sparkling with something he was not expecting to see anymore; fury and deviance. Impossible. Lord Voldemort broke her; he saw it. She can't be resisting him anymore. It's impossible. It's not done. He is seeing and hearing things that aren't there. He must be misjudging her demeanour. She is his, period.

'How could I po…possibly get in he...re, you idiot?'

'Ouch,' he says more out of surprise then anything else as Hermione's fist collides with his biceps.

'I can't swim, you moron.'

And she launches another swing at him, but this time he is snaps out of his stupor and he grabs a hold of both of her wrists, before she has a change to hit him. He stares in astonishment at the furious witch that is now struggling to get free from his grasp, so she can hit him some more and relieve her anger and frustration. How is this possible? She was hurting, when she realised her silly feelings of love for the Weasley boy had been a monumental error. She was crying. He broke her! He won! She shouldn't be fighting him anymore! It infuriates him sincerely that she is.

'Stop it!' Voldemort yells desperate and he shakes her harshly. 'Stop it.'

Hermione blinks, and then, she frowns and stares at him, like she is seeing something she has never seen before. What is it with this woman? Why can't she just do what she is told? Why can't she simply obey him? Everybody else has the good sense to do so. Just how stupid is she actually? Can't she see what he is offering her? Others would jump at the opportunity he is presenting her, a change to rule the world beside him. But here she is, a mere Mudblood, who is doing nothing besides aggravating him. Constantly arguing with him, when he knows he is right. Lord Voldemort is never wrong. Never!

Granger is no longer struggling against him, but is watching him with… is that pity in her eyes? He clutches on to Hermione's wrists without even noticing how much force he puts on his grasp. That better not be pity! He is not someone to be pitied! And he jumps to his feet, dragging the shivering witch along. She stumbles, while she tries to get her bearing and crashes into him as he holds their arms between them. Their eyes meet again and she tries to speak, but he can't understand a syllable she is saying anymore due to the violent clattering of her teeth. A Drying and Heating Charm takes care of that and he watches her expectantly, daring her to say something foolish, but the girl surprises him once again.

'Thank you,' she says appreciative and tremendously calm.

However, he is certain that wasn't what she was saying before, so he raises his eyebrows and waits for her to continue. Her cheeks are mildly flushed, but her face is still pale and he wonders why he has not noticed before what a deep brown colour her eyes truly are. They really are incredibly beautiful, with sparks of dark green and black in them. Most unusual.

'I was trying to tell you, before you shoved me off the cliff, that Harry told me he had to swim through a fissure to get in this cave. Even if I wanted to hide something here; I wouldn't have been able to do so,' she says softly. 'I am, of course, assuming you made certain no one could Apparate in.'

He gazes into those incredible eyes. She isn't lying, but then again, she Obliviated herself. So that doesn't mean anything. You can easily lie about something you don't remember. Still, she is making sense. And he calms down considerably. How could she have gotten in? She is not a Parselmouth; she can't swim and she dreads flying. Perhaps she asked someone else to deliver the Amulet to its location, but he casts that option aside after careful consideration. Granger wouldn't risk exposing the whereabouts of the Amulet to a third party and she certainly wouldn't dream of jeopardising someone by sending them into one of his strongholds. Still… it is a perfect hideout and the Scrying Stone did hover above this area. He lets go of her wrists and strokes her face.

'We're here now,' Voldemort says quietly. 'We may as well check whether you're right in assuming you had no way into this cave.'

And he places his hand on the small of her back and guides her towards the cave wall. A flick of his wrist and his wand is in his hand. He points it to the wall and a blazing white arched outline appears; a second complicated swirl and the rock within the arch disappears, leaving an opening into total darkness. He coaxes the girl through it and he sees her puzzled expression as they pass the archway.

'Aren't you supposed to make a blood donation to open this?' she asks curious, looking back up at him.

He smirks at her curiosity. 'Want to learn some Dark Arts tricks, darling?' he smoothly says.

She remains silent and Lord Voldemort laughs out loud. 'Surely, you weren't expecting me to go stab myself in order to get in? It is such a crude method of gaining entry, wouldn't you agree? Anyone with half a brain would have seen the other option,' he adds snickering, taking extreme pleasure in insulting the old coot that guided Potter in here.

'Why give people another means to enter?' Granger asks, stunned.

'Because only my blood should have gotten them out,' Voldemort answers somewhat annoyed, while he halts in front of the great black lake.

'You meant to trap them inside,' Hermione says knowingly, 'only Harry's blood, oh…'

And she stops talking. 'Yeah, oh,' he adds superfluously and a bit irritated.

There is no need to remind him of the blunder, if only he would have realised in advance that taking Potter's blood would mean he had to change the enchantments on this cave; then he would have gotten the boy long before he destroyed all his other Horcruxes. And he wouldn't have had to travel here with this Mudblood to find an item that can restore his soul. Not to mention the fact that he would have had the privilege of ridding the world of that old, Muggle-loving, do-gooder himself, because from what Snape had told him about Dumbledore's condition it was pretty damn clear to him that he was the one who drank his potion. Oh well, there is no point in hindsight. They were both dead and rotting away slowly anyway.

He points his wand to the misty greenish light that shines in the centre of the lake. A plume of fire emanates from his wand and whirls through the air. An underhand whip changes the configuration of the fire and it roars into a humongous Serpent lashing around at the environment. Lord Voldemort hisses and spits without drawing in breath at the Fiendfyre Serpent, and with a dramatic drop, it plunges backward into the water. Steam sizzles to the out of sight ceiling as the fiery Serpent splits up the lake into two halves and clears a pathway to the centre to walk through. The gentle adding of some pressure in her back is all it takes to make Granger lead the way and they walk between the huge walls of dark water magically held back on either side of them.

'Why don't you just fly over?' Hermione asks eventually.

She has halted her forward motion and is looking up to him with an inquisitive mind. He strokes her hair calmly. At least she isn't so stupid to ask him why they aren't using the boot, which makes him decide to answer truthfully. 'We,' he says, emphasising on the pronoun, 'can't fly over, because I took several precautions to entrap someone who'd try that. Let's just say flying across this lake is incredibly hazardous to ones health.'

And his cold, high pitched laugh echoes through the large cavern. 'You mean it will kill you,' Hermione concludes rightfully and he notices her shrug.

'Dreadful and true,' he replies, stupefied by her shrugging action.

'There are worse things than death,' she states certain and marches on.

Within three steps he has overtaken her and grabs her from behind. 'Are there now?' he whispers in her ear menacingly and he turns her head to face the water and its contents. 'Pray tell, Hermione. Does this look appealing to you?'

A dead woman floats by. Her face seems like a skull covered only by a thin layer of white, wrinkled tissue and her dress flows around her similar to smoke whirling in the air, while her round, open eyes seem misted like cobwebs. Her hair has lost all colours and is strangely translucent. Besides being a ragged, messed up bundle it is still held together by two blue ribbons. It's how he recognises the corpse in question. It is the woman whom he once knew as little Amy Benson. He holds up his hand to command the Infirius to remain where it is and a second wave summons another, while he is waiting for Granger to reply to his question. She seems to be thinking on how to respond to him. And he is about to tell her to admit he is right and except her defeat in this argument, because he knows he has won.

'That isn't a normal state of death,' Hermione replies softly.

'You prefer rotting underneath the ground then, Hermione? Or do you want to be burned into ashes like some seem to fancy?'

She shakes her head slowly. 'You're only talking about what death does to your body not what happens to your spirit or soul,' she rebuttals.

Voldemort snorts. 'Please, don't tell me you're one of those fools who follow those stupid Muggle religions,' he says exasperated and he dramatically raises his hand to the ceiling and exclaims in a preaching like manner, 'let us pray … in order to erase our sins. It's all quite convenient, don't you think?'

'No, I don't think it is convenience what makes people believe. Tell me, does religion appals you so much, because it reminds you of your past in the orphanage or because you truly believe it is rubbish?'

'It is rubbish, Granger. Look at them!' he replies angry and he points to the two corpses that float in front of her. 'Do you see any of their Gods coming to the rescue?'

'Just because you violated their bodies doesn't mean you were able to harm their spirit or soul,' Hermione rebuts and she shakes her head in sorrow. 'People don't deserve to be treated in this manner.'

'Oh, don't they?' he spats at her and Lord Voldemort commands the Infiri to step forward into the pathway. He tosses Granger toward them and they each grab one of her arms with their rotting, decaying hands. She sure is frightened now. Fear is dripping out of every pore in her body. He can practically smell it and it delights him. Silly woman and her daft logic. So death is nothing to fear, he can see she is surely proof to her own testimony right now and he snorts loudly.

'Hermione Jean Granger meet the lovely Amy Benson and the nice and charming Dennis Bishop, who as you put it so delicately really do not deserve to be here,' he snarls.

He notices her shock upon hearing those names and he steps forward until their bodies are only inches apart. 'Who told you about them?' he asks, narrowing his eyes at her.

'Dumbledore told Harry you terrorised two children in this cave,' Hermione answers quietly.

He sees how her eyes dart nervously between the two Infiri and him. 'Did he now?' he says disgusted. 'So he told Potter all about my evil deeds to the poor, helpless, little muggles and Potter just couldn't wait to share them with the rest of the world. So tell me, did Dumbledore happen to mention why I brought them here or did that conveniently escape his attention?'

Hermione is now looking at the ground in silence. He takes her head in his hands and lifts it so she has no other choice but to meet his gaze. 'As I thought…' he whispers, before addressing the male Infirius. 'Dennis, why don't you show Miss Granger, what you were famous for in the orphanage?'

He sees the uncertainty and fear in her eyes as another Infirius steps out at his command and takes a hold of her arm, so the Infirius formerly known as Bishop has his hands free. He smiles at her pitiless and strokes her face, because he knows what will happen next. A shocked gasp frees itself from Hermione's lips as Dennis moves his hands underneath her shirt and gropes her indiscreetly. She starts to struggle, but it is of no use and he locks her eyes with his, while ordering the Infirius to move to lower grounds. And since he is standing so close to her he can feel Dennis' hand moving into her trousers. He knows it must be tremendously disgusting to be touched in this manner by an Infirius, but he is adamant to win this argument. People did not deserve to be here. How dare she?

'Please stop,' Hermione asks him desperate, while she tries to get away from the groping hands of the Infirius.

'Oh sorry dear, but saying no only turns Mr Bishop on. Doesn't it, Dennis? Why don't you show Hermione what you always did to people who struggled and told you no?' Voldemort adds viciously and he orders the Infirius to enter her with his fingers one by one.

Hermione has turned silent, but he sees her stares, pleading at him to make the Infirius stop. He wipes a lone tear away with his thumb. 'And then, of course, there was precious Amy Benson, always ratting out others, little Miss Tattletale,' he snarls and he adds in a mock sweet, high tone of voice, 'Mrs Cole, Tom made his shirt turn white! Mrs Cole, Tom stole an apple from the kitchen! Mrs Cole, blah… blah… blah… Benson en Bishop, always causing problems for others, but they are so nice and polite. Always ever so helpful and accommodating and they never break to the rules or have strange events happen around them. People just adore them. How about you Hermione? Do you love Dennis Bishop now?' he jeers. 'Do you not feel he got exactly what he deserved?'

But Voldemort does not wait for her to respond to his questions and continues. 'I'm sorry if Dennis is a bit clumsy with you, but he would have preferred Mr Potter or Mr Weasley instead of you. They were more his type so to speak. Sod off, Dennis,' he orders and the Inferius withdraws his hands from Hermione. 'Perhaps that is why good old Albus saw no problem with his behaviour?' he snarls vicious. 'Maybe if he would have groped girls, he would have been reprimanded?'

'Dumbledore knew about this?' Hermione asks disbelieving.

Voldemort shrugs. 'How should I know? He surely never bothered to find out. All he probably cared about where the two poor defenceless muggles whom I did terrible deeds to. Can you see now how I had to take matters into my own hands? How I had to show those two who they thought they could mess with?' And he smiles victorious at the memory. 'I knew I could never get away with doing anything inside the orphanage, not after the whole ridiculous ruckus about the stupid rabbit, but I knew Bishop would be foolish enough to follow me, if he thought I went somewhere secluded and Benson was also easy to lure along. All I had to do was pretend I had a little secret and she made this pathetic attempt to follow me unnoticed as well.'

He sees he has captured Hermione's attention completely with his story. She is easy to confide in. He has never before told anyone this, but it feels somehow safe to tell her. Those brown eyes just draw him in and he wants to share it all. So he does. Lord Voldemort tells Hermione precisely and in great detail everything that ever happened between him and those two and he relishes in telling her how he got even with them at age seven. Because he knows she understands.

'Vengeance is so sweet; Hermione, but you already know that, don't you?' And he starts counting on his fingers. 'Marietta Edgecombe; goofy Ronald in his sixth year; Lavender Brown, Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge,' and he smirks there, 'and my personal favourite, Draco Malfoy. That one was particularly vicious. Pray tell, did you ever tell those two goody-two-shoes friends of yours what you did to him after the red head was through eating his slugs?'

'No,' is the immediate and honest reply he gets.

It pleases him tremendously. Non-verbally he orders the other Infiri to bugger off too and go back to their usual boring floating business. And he moves his hands from Hermione's face to her shoulders and down over her breasts to her hips, before he pulls her against him. They maintain eye contact through it all and it is more intense than ever before. And he nods in affirmation to her answer. 'You were right not to tell them,' he says softly, 'they wouldn't have understood. They would have turned you in, but you know you did the right thing, because Malfoy never bothered you again for real after you showed him, did he?'

'How did you know what I did to Draco?' she asks him quietly. 'I never told anyone and I am pretty certain he would not have been bragging about it either.'

'His mind was an open book to me, Hermione. I daresay your little action was most entertaining.'

'Oh, of course,' she mutters. 'I thought Dumbledore might have guessed.'

'He did, but he had no proof and Draco didn't dare tell him,' Voldemort replies snickering. He is truly marvelling at the fact that the Headmaster was unable to proof another crime that happened right underneath his big, oversized nose. It's when he sees Granger's eyes have a rather sad expression. She should be revelling in her victory, not worry about some dead man's opinions of her.

'But you needn't worry about Dumbledore and his ridiculous morals. He means nothing,' he says and he kisses her softly on the lips.

'I shouldn't have… I went too far,' Granger mutters in regret.

'No, no, no,' he says in shock. 'You showed him you were not to be trifled with.'

'I should have apologised to Draco at the least,' she states certain and remorseful. 'I made things worse.'

It sickens him severely. 'Made things worse?' Voldemort says disbelievingly, 'you've paid him back for his actions and prevented future assaults on your person. How is that making things worse?'

'Because it will lead to this,' Hermione says forcefully and she waves her arm around at the water. 'It will never end with revenge; never. You stand here claiming that it helped that you showed those two not to mess with you anymore.'

'It did help, Granger. Those two never were the same again after their little excursion into this cave with me. I won,' he hisses.

'Then why did you feel the need to attack them again after they became adults? Why turn them into Infiri if you had already won? Why bother? Revenge doesn't help. Revenge keeps the pain alive. You've kept the pain alive. They are here as meaningless shelves of the individuals they once were and they are still hurting you.'

His insides are tearing apart as he hears her speak those words and with a forceful, furious push he dumps her through the enchanted wall into the lake. The Infiri immediately grab her and pull her in further. He closes his eyes, tilts his head backward and sighs in relieve at the silence. That is so much better, nice and quiet. Nobody bothering him with insane remarks. Another order and he watches the Infiri throw Hermione straight back into his arms. She is doubling over, panting and shaking, while she coughs up the water she apparently breathed in. He takes a hold of her wet hair with his free arm that isn't around her waist, and roughly, he pulls her head backward. Keeping his long spidery fingers firmly entwined in her curls he gazes down satisfied into her frightened face.

'Remember your place, darling, or you will get very intimately acquainted with every Infirius in this lake. You won't be able to walk normally for days after that, and I promise you, I will not hear your pleas to make them stop a second time. Do you understand me?' he whispers menacingly.

She barely moves her head in an affirmative nod, but he sees the surrender and captures her mouth violently with his. He demands entry and she complies, not resisting his exploration of her tongue with his. She is his and the longer she fights him, the sweeter the victory will be in the end. Lord Voldemort knows this to be true. Reluctantly, he withdraws from her and they continue their walk quietly. Eventually, they reach the tiny island of smooth, dark rock in the centre and Hermione halts a few feet away from it. Lord Voldemort notices with sheer satisfaction that she is watching the stone basin on the pedestal with clear apprehension. So she has finally realised why he brought her along for the ride. Good girl.

And he places his hand in her back silently and coaxes her onward. Side by side they reach the basin and while he is monitoring Granger, she is looking down at the phosphorescent emerald liquid uneasy. A wicked grin grows on his face and he conjures a goblet out of nowhere. He so loves toying with her. Almost immediately Hermione tries to take a step backwards, but he has already blocked that direction by moving quickly behind her and he pushes her against the stone basin with his body. His arms are resting on the rim of the basin on either side of her, blocking her in thoroughly. He lowers his head to her wet cheek and kisses her softly, before dipping the goblet into the potion allowing it to be filled to the brim and raising it again. He hears the soft whimper that escapes Hermione's lips and he smirks as he strokes her hair reassuringly.

'Care to make a toast, Hermione?' he asks devious.

And he moves her hands around the goblet, folding his over hers. He feels her shiver in angst and it invigorates him. Perhaps … he should let her drink it? It will be fun to see her relive her worst nightmares, to hear her scream in pain. But it's already halfway through the day and he needs her to perform at the sorting ceremony tonight, so this potion is really out of the question. Still, tormenting her with it is a lot of fun.

'I suppose I can say to your good health, Hermione, but we both know this is not a health beverage. So perhaps you'd like to make some final, memorable words?' he adds teasingly at her silence. 'No?'

She bites her lip. He lets go with one hand and takes a hold of her chin, turning her head to face him. 'I may be inclined to grant your plea, if it pleases me enough,' Voldemort says devilish.

He stares at her smiling. This is a wonderful day. He hopes she will humiliate herself by begging to him for her life, if she does try he will make her grovel on the floor, before granting her wish. But the girl's eyes dart away from him in clear resignation with her fate. Hmmm… oh well, too bad, perhaps some other time he will be more fortunate. He gives her a soft pat on the cheek, before flicking his wrist to make his wand appear. 'Evanesco,' he casts out loud at the goblet.

Granger is definitely confused now, and he starts stirring the potion with his wand, while chanting an ancient Dark Arts Hymn. He can see her looking puzzled at his ability to reach into it and he can hear her questions in his head. Oh, the joy of an intelligent and inquisitive mind. She is practically dying to understand how he does this, and he hears her mentally scolding herself for wanting to know. He decides to answer the question she is still too stubborn to give a voice to. Perhaps some more insight into the Dark Arts will sway her.

'This is, as you already guessed correctly, partly a Nightmare Potion. It not only lets people relive their worst memories and fears, but also makes them physically feel the pain those fears bring along,' he lectures. 'Care to dazzle me with your insight by taking a guess to the other potions I mixed it with to achieve those results?'

'A Pain-inducing Concoction, Diluted Befuddlement Draught, and a small dose of Forgetfulness Potion,' she replies fast, as if she is back in Hogwarts and one of the teachers has asked the class a question.

'Impressive,' Voldemort says appraisingly, 'what made you think of the latter two?'

'The Befuddlement Draught will make someone unable to distinguish between the reality and the nightmare, making the Nightmare Potion more effective and it needs dilution otherwise someone will be too confused to relive their fears,' Hermione answers, while the potion in the basin begins to transfigure and the phosphorescent glow becomes brighter and brighter as the liquid slowly turns into vapour upon Voldemort's stirring motions.

'And why the small dose of Forgetfulness Potion?' he adds.

'A small dose will eliminate only the last real memory of an individual, meaning they will forget why they came here, but remember the pain and the nightmare you supplied them with. It would stop anyone from drinking the rest of the potion, if they came alone; making certain your Horcrux remained safe.'

She really is bright. He has to give her that, but then again, he wouldn't have been interested in her, if she was some dim-witted broad. Lord Voldemort doubts anyone else would have considered the benefits of adding Forgetfulness Potion to this mix.

'This basin can only be emptied by drinking it; however,' he adds, waiting for the proper dramatic effect, 'you probably know where vanished objects go.'

'Into non-being,' Hermione mutters, puzzled.

'Exactly, I have just vanished the goblet and part of the potion. This lovely, old chant creates a connection between being and non-being, causing a direct link between the vanished goblet into non-being and the potion in being. The protections on this basin will see that part of the potion has vanished inside the goblet and assume that it was drunk by someone. So when I dipped my wand, which made the goblet disappear and is part of the connection, into the potion it thinks it is the goblet filling up again. Now, all that remains to be done is a simple transfiguration charm and the potion moves to the goblet into a state of non-being, thinking all the while it is being ingested by someone.'

'So that is why you're transfiguring it in intervals,' Hermione says understanding, looking back down into the whirl of vapour in the basin, 'so it will disappear in the same manner as when someone drank it, while under its influence.'

'Exactly,' he responds excited. He is overjoyed by the fact she considered this detail.

'But weren't you afraid someone else might consider to do this?'

'Use Seth's Death Chant in this manner?' he asks innocently.

He laughs out loud when he hears her shocked gasp. 'Come, come, Granger, no need to uphold this false sense of propriety around me. I already know you found it a rather useful chant and it is, no matter what its history or reputation. Anyway, I believe you are aware that not many people know the wording, even lesser know the proper pronunciation to the wording, and fewer are able to conjure the magical force required behind it. Only an exceptional wizard, or witch,' he adds, kissing her on the head, 'would be able to perform the Chant. And you truly need some practise with it before it works correctly, which was quite difficult to do undisturbed in my younger days I might say. All those nosey busybodies from the Ministry,' he says and he glares at the lake amusedly, 'at least they are good for something.

A final whirl of vapour and the potion is gone. They both look into the basin simultaneously and he smirks when Granger's mouth falls open stupidly, because there, right on the bottom of the basin, it lies. A silvery necklace with an emerald stone attached to it: the Amulet of Aine.

'Seems you found a way in after all, darling. I'm impressed,' he whispers thoroughly pleased. 'Why don't you do the honours,' he suggest with a sly smile.

Her hand is moving toward the basin, when she halts rather abruptly and glares at him suspiciously. She really is clever. He smirks. 'No?' he says mocking. 'If you can get it out, I'll let you have it,' he adds laughing.

She pulls her hand back to her body, having apparently decided it is not safe to stick her hand inside the basin. 'Smart move,' he tells her, and pats her on the head condescendingly.

He snatches the item from the bottom himself and watches it with sheer delight. A wild feeling of happiness overtakes him as he holds the key to his immortality in his hands. It is extraordinary beautiful. He holds it up in the air to examine it more thoroughly. The Amulet's emerald stone is a work of art in itself. It's been carved to perfection, causing it to glow in a deep green colour, and he notices the several, delicate silver symbols that are engraved into it as he turns it around. The necklace is made of the finest silver and he can almost sense its purity by the lightness and shine of the chain. This will look stunning on her and he watches the small witch on his side. She doesn't look too happy, biting her lip in sheer disappointment, but he feels happy enough for the both of them and he casts a Drying Charm to reward her for her impressive achievement by getting this item in here. He wonders how she did it and he can tell she is wondering the same thing.

'You really are the brightest witch of your age, Hermione,' he says appraisingly. 'Worthy of a wizard of my stature and standing, despite your unfortunate bloodlines.'

He sees those wonderful brown eyes stare at him rather worriedly now and he smiles. He has never been this exhilarated and overjoyed before. It's like nothing else matters. He has it all. This smart, exceptional witch and immortality are within his reach. And she will help him obtain his objective of living forever. Lord Voldemort steps towards Hermione. 'Give me your hand,' he orders.

Reluctantly, she complies and he turns her hand around, before laying the stone down in her palm. 'I believe you are familiar with the powers of this Amulet, Hermione,' he says smoothly, holding on to her hand that is carrying the stone. 'Now, watch how I dissect the nasty side-effects of having to feel love, remorse and other despicable emotions from the true purpose of this remarkable object, its soul-healing aspect.'

He swirls his wand around above his head and dark smoke circles them. 'Don't be frightened,' he says reassuringly, 'this will only impact on the stone.'

Another swirl, a dark flash… utter blackness for a moment and then it is done. He takes a step forward, closer to Hermione and examines the stone in her hand. A flicker of darkness is whirling dead centre. It has worked, as he knew it would. Lord Voldemort never fails. There have been those who claim that he does, who even had the gall to state that it would be boring if he always wins, but he took care of them quite adequately. Nobody will ever say such disturbing nonsense ever again, IF they value their own health and that of their loved ones.

He looks back up at the girl in front of him. A concerned frown is visibly enhancing her features; at least that's how he sees it. Everything looks cute on her at this moment when she is sharing in his victory. This is utter bliss. He feels like celebrating profusely and he laces his fingers with hers, before swiftly moving their hand around and catching the Amulet between their now joined palms. Hermione is eyeing him questionably and with his free hand he pulls her toward him.

'What did you do to it?' she asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

'I've split the powers,' he responds, eyeing her up and down appreciatively.

'But, but then it will still remain there. I don't see how that is helping you,' she says confused.

Lord Voldemort watches her meticulously, before taking the Amulet of Aine from her hand. 'Turn around,' he orders, not answering her question, yet.

He sees her apprehensive glance, but she moves just the same and he pulls her against him, watching his hands over her shoulder. He unlocks the necklace, while obliging Hermione by replying to her reservations. 'I've used our magical compatibility in this matter,' he says smug, moving her hair out of the way. 'The power of the Amulet that heals the soul will go to me, while …' and he kisses her in the neck, 'those nasty feelings of love and remorse and so on will go to you. Hope you don't mind,' he adds lightly, and his fingers brush her neck, while he places the necklace around it.

As he locks and adjusts it to hang properly, he kisses her on the cheek again. 'This looks absolutely stunning on you dearest,' he says softly. 'Green and silver seems to agree with your complexion.'

Hermione does not respond to his explanation, but he does not need her to. She will share in his victory and his achievements. She will be his completely one day; body, mind and soul. However, right now he is fine with settling for her lovely body. Voldemort lets their magic flow to his hands and he touches her with it. His hands roam over her body, taking excellent care in massaging both breasts manually and magically, before moving on to other sensitive areas. He can practically feel her go weak in the knees at his expertise and she starts to lean against him, her head tilts backwards on his shoulder and her cheek brushes his. So soft. He relishes in triumph, when her eyes flutter shut and she moans in clear relaxation, when he activates the sensory nerves on the inside of her arms.

'Why fight this, Hermione? You've already proven your worth to me. I can teach you everything I know and it will be my pleasure to do so,' he says against her skin, tempting her.

He knows the latter is true. He will enjoy teaching the Dark Arts to someone with her intelligence, to someone who will be able to grasp and appreciate the finer details and delicate meanings of the Arts. Instead of only applying the blunt force of it, which is all his daftly followers can understand. He rests his hands on her hips and guides the magic into her body.

'Ooooohh,' she groans intensely.

'All my knowledge is at your disposal, Hermione. All you need to do is take me up on my offer and I will show you the world. Can't you see we are made for each other? Can't you feel it?'

She gasps in delight at his handiwork and he captures her mouth forcefully. This time around she isn't holding back and their tongues battle ferociously. Just when he decides he needs her to turn around and face him she is already doing it on her own, without his guidance. He feels her delicate hands fumbling with the buttons of his pants, while they continue their passionate kissing. She moans in his mouth, while his magic caresses the inside of her thigh, slowly moving upward, until he has reached the core of her sex and she screams loudly, almost toppling over.

He remembers how wonderfully she rode him and he conjures a chair behind him and sits down, pulling Granger down with him, straddling her in his lap. A second later the clothes on the lower half of their bodies are cast away and she lowers herself on top of him. They move with so much force the chair can't hold them and as it breaks down they crash to the ground violently; Granger landing on top of him. He sees her giggle lovely at their ridiculous fall and he rolls her over, pinning her body to the ground with his. Their eyes lock in passion and desire.

'Scream for me, Hermione.'

And with brute force he penetrates her fully. It's unbelievable the way this woman makes him feel. She is not his first and he has definitely been around, but surely, she is the best he has ever had. Because by Merlin this compatible magic enables him to adjust her precisely to his needs. The power he yields over her body is intoxicating. He adores the slight discomfort that swirls in her eyes and he marvels at her passionate screams when he rocks inside of her, feeling her tighten around him, pushing him over the edge. Breathless and thoroughly satisfied he falls down beside her. Lying on his side, his head resting on his hand, he looks down at her, smiling broadly. Absentmindedly, he draws small circles on her exposed skin with his hand, causing her to shiver once more.

'See how you belong with me,' he softly says, 'see how we match perfectly. I promise you, my dear, once you've succumb to me fully I will make you feel like this forever. And I assure you, that contrary to these quickies, I am most capable of keeping you in a state of bliss for hours, if you please me.'

He kisses the soft skin in her throat gently and pulls the silent, little one possessively toward him. 'I can also be quite creative in how I administer pleasure to a woman; anything in particular you desire?' he asks deviously and he snickers as he notices her cheeks flush.

'Now, now, no need to turn all modest and shy on me afterwards, Hermione,' Voldemort adds in mock reprimand, and he feels positively delighted about her embarrassment, 'but we really don't have time for that, honey. We have a sorting ceremony to attend to and I believe we're already running late as it is.'

'Don't you have better things to do besides snooping through my mind?' Hermione says resentful as he casts their clothes back on and pulls her to her feet.

'And miss out on all those wonderful ideas of yours? Now, that would be a shame,' he says snorting as they walk away in order to leave this place permanently.
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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory