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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
- 15
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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

I've conquered my past

The future is here at last

I stand at the entrance

To a new world I can see

The ruins to the right of me

Will soon have lost sight of me

Love rescue me.

U2; Love rescue me

Chapter sixteen

Maglor Silimaurë looks up from his book, when we enter the living room of Voldemort's quarters. The elf has made himself quite comfortable on the couch and is eyeing us with clear anticipation as he pockets his book in his colourful long jacket.

'Have you located the Amulet of Aine?' Maglor asks curious.

'I believe so,' Voldemort replies blank.

'I'd like to see it,' Maglor says kind of demanding.

Abruptly, the elf gets out of the couch and moves toward us. I can practically feel the annoyance rise in the man behind me, but Voldemort remains ever so polite and reserved. 'I trust our arrangement still stands,' he says, while Maglor's eyes widen upon noticing the necklace and said Amulet around my neck.

'Naturally,' replies Maglor absentmindedly to Voldemort. 'If I may?' he asks me, holding out his hand and I shrug in a casual, affirmative reply.

The elf takes a hold of the stone hanging on my neck, while retrieving an Elf Glass out of his pocket. He glances through the Glass meticulously for what seems like forever, before letting go of the stone and returning his attention to Voldemort.

'I see you fumbled around with the Amulet's powers,' Silimaurë says haughty.

'Is that going to be a problem?' Voldemort asks the elf calmly, while striding past him.

An amused and slightly mocking twinkle runs through Maglor's eyes upon hearing the obvious threat and he glances sideways at the Amulet for a second. 'Not to me,' he states lightly.

'Wonderful,' says Voldemort, swirling around, 'Now, if you'll excuse us, Miss Granger and I have a ceremony to attend to. I believe you know your way out of this castle?'

'Oh yes, that won't be any problem at all,' Maglor replies smiling.

Voldemort gives him a polite nod of goodbye.

'A pleasure,' Maglor says, nodding back to Voldemort, before turning around and kissing my hand to my utmost surprise.

'The Elders wanted me to let you know that you will always be welcomed back in Everon with the highest regards, Miss Granger,' Silimaurë says, making a small bow to me, and with a devious, Elfish wink he disappears with a loud crack.

I make a face in resentment; stupid Elves and their weird sense of humour. There really is no need for Maglor to remind me how unwelcome the Elders made me feel, while I was there. I have a perfectly fine memory of it and I honestly don't see the pun in reviving my recollection of their rudeness. Ah well, they probably think humans make strange jokes.

'Hermione?'

I look up and see Lord Voldemort holding out the door to the bedroom for me. 'You need to change into something a bit more appropriate, my dear,' he says smiling wickedly.

I check my appearance and I have to admit he is right, having been dumped into a sea, a lake and laid down on sandy rock's surface does not do wonders for ones state of presentably. So I march past him to change into another set of robes. I am rummaging through the wardrobe to get out my usual clothes, when I hear the amused cough behind me. An arm is placed around my waist and another shoves the black robes to the side to reveal an elegant, obviously expensive, green, satin gown. It has an asymmetric bodice with delicate, silvery embroidery on it and a long, wide, draped skirt that will probably fall beyond my ankles.

'I think this will do fine, darling,' Voldemort says and he pulls out the dress.

Oh terrific, so now everyone thinks they are a comedian. Nobody ever dresses up for the Sorting Ceremony. Not even Dumbledore did and he adored showing of his taste in colourful extravagant clothing. I will feel like I am on bloody display, which is … probably the point. I grunt incoherently at that thought and take the damn gown from Voldemort's hand to go change, knowing full well there is no point in arguing about it anyway. He really can act like such a spoilt, little child who always has to have his way.

'Something the matter, dear?' he asks teasing, while pulling me back against him.

'Original colour,' I reply sarcastic, lying the gown down on the bed beside me.

'I did consider red-and-gold for you, but it would have clashed with this lovely necklace, wouldn't you agree?' he says quietly, while he allows the cord of said necklace to glide casually through his fingers. 'Besides I am trying to get a point across to everyone in the Great Hall tonight and some of those morons out there simply lack the finesse to grasp anything that isn't painted out in clear pictures before them.'

'But you do consider them smart enough to grasp the symbolism you're trying to bestow upon me with this dress?' I sneer.

I can practically feel him smile from ear to ear. 'And what symbolism would I be bestowing on you, Hermione? Do tell.'

I growl in anger and frustration, and I feel his arms tighten around me. He is awaiting my response to what I assumed was a teasing, rhetorical question. Apparently, he wants to torment me some more by making me say it. Well, I have no problem with enlightening him on his ridiculous fixations, if he needs to hear it.

'That I am yours, the little personal doll you can dress up and play with. All under your control like you so desperately need everything to be. Well, feel free to live in fantasyland, Voldemort, because it is a chaotic world out there and those proper categories you try to place everything in will all come falling down on your head some day.'

'And who is going to see to that?' he replies amused. 'You?' he adds taunting. 'As you said, Hermione, you're mine to do with as I see fit. Tonight you will accompany me to the Great Hall and you will not disrespect me in any shape or form while we are in the presence of others. Any glance, non-verbal gesture, and attitude you show or syllable that you speak in there, that displeases me, will cost the life of one eleven year old. So I suppose it is up to you to decide whether this year the Hogwarts' Professors will require teaching first graders.'

And there he goes proving my point again; Mr I-Am-So-Insecure-I-Need-Everything-To-Be-Under-My-Control.

'Now, get dressed, darling. It would be cruel to keep all those hungry teenagers waiting for dinner.'

He lets go of me and swirls away, seating himself on the stool beside the dresser. I pick up the gown and walk to the bathroom, but the door is locked. You've got to be kidding me. How immature can one person get? And I glance sideways and see him sitting on the bloody stool with his arms folded over each other, leaning ever so comfortably against the wall. A very huge smirk is plastered on that no good face of his. I roll my eyes to the ceiling and start changing my clothes in the muggle manner, because the poor, little child that never had any toys is blocking my magic. When I am almost done, a pair of silver pumps appears magically before me. And I step into them, while I am wrestling with the damn zipper on my back. All of the sudden, I feel his hands on mine.

'Allow me,' he says softly.

I let go and he, slowly, zips up the gown. My stomach begins to twist and turn, and rather abruptly I feel extremely subconscious. His hands travel onward to my shoulders and he coaxes me to turn around. I notice he has somehow changed into a pair of black dress robes without me being aware of him doing so, but I am not looking at him. I find the wall far more interesting at the moment. However, I can still feel his gaze upon me as he takes in every detail of my appearance. Merlin, can the floor just swallow me whole, so I can die here right now, pretty please? Gently, his hand is taking a hold of my chin and he lifts my head to face him. My mouth is suddenly incredibly dry, I feel my throat constricting and my chest actually hurts from the continued holding in of my breath. My eyes meet his and I feel like running towards the nearest exit.

'You are absolutely gorgeous, Hermione,' Voldemort says reassuringly.

I let out a breath in relieve, and then … scold myself for doing so. Why am I acting like an idiot here? It's not like it matters what he thinks! All he wants is a ridiculous trophy on his arm. Hooray! I am one of his collections. So it honestly doesn't matter how I look. Perhaps I can hook some toilet paper behind the heel of my shoe and tow it along the Great Hall after me. I think that will undo the effect he is trying to accomplish quite wonderfully. Gosh, I really wish he'll stop staring so possessively at me. It gives me the creeps.

He strokes my cheek with the palm of his hand. 'We still have to do something about that hair of yours,' he says softly.

I sigh in annoyance. This is going to take forever.

'You should have thought of that beforehand,' I say irritated. 'This,' and I point with my hand to my huge bundle of frizz, 'takes hours in taming even a little bit. Especially after it has been in contact with water,' I add smirking, mighty pleased about the irony of the latter.

An amused quirk of his eyebrows is followed by a snort and he leans forward as he tells me smoothly it is not my hair that needs taming. Ha! Very funny. A flick of his wrist and a small silver snake appears in there.

'Your hair poses no challenge for me, Hermione. It just needs the right attributes to stay in line,' he says, holding up the silver snake snickering. 'Kind of like the person underneath,' he adds devious. He rests his hand with the silver item on my shoulder. 'Don't be alarmed.'

He hisses something, and suddenly, I shriek and practically jump ten feet into the air, because I feel something slither against my neck and disappear into my hair. Merlin, that thing is alive! It better not be poisonous. I just want to rub with my hands through my hair and get it, whatever it is, out of there, but I am just about able to resist the impulse and control myself. You never know, maybe it has fangs? I feel how the snake is moving my hair up and I can't see it, but I have a feeling it is without a doubt quite the creative little hair accessory. And it is such a nice asset to the Slytherin theme Voldemort is apparently going for tonight.

'Couldn't you have said something in advance?' I finally snarl, when my heartbeat has slightly returned to normal.

'I warned you not to be alarmed,' he says shrugging.

'And you suppose that covers it all?' I rebut indignant.

Well, I suppose it does, but really… don't be alarmed? I sniff arrogantly. You have to be a man to think that is warning someone about the reptile you're about to launch into their hair. And I walk past him to go into the bathroom, but the door is still locked.

'Searching for a new secret passageway to the Great Hall?' I hear him say joyous.

'No, just trying to keep this carpet of yours from getting wet,' I respond equally cheerful, 'unless you rather have a mess in here? Then I can always oblige.'

'Now, she turns all submissive on me,' Voldemort exclaims dramatic.

Rather surprised at that humorous response I look at him, while he stops beside me and taps the door with his wand. Something is definitely off here.

'I wouldn't get all used to it, if I were you,' I say cheeky.

He smiles, and for a brief moment, I think I see something dark inside those crimson eyes of his, but it must be a trick of the light.

'I would never be so foolish to do so, dear,' he says softly. 'Don't be long.'

Lord Voldemort swirls out of the bedroom in a whoosh of darkness and I stare in astonishment at the door that closes behind him. That man never ceases to amaze me. Just when you think you can about begin to predict what he is going to do next he goes all … whatever on you. Merlin, he definitely has the most abrupt mood swings I ever witnessed on anyone. No wonder Harry went absolutely barking mad during our fifth year. Having that in your head; brrrr… And I shiver as I walk inside the bathroom.

My eyes dart back and forth between the dress and the toilet. Oh great, you can definitely tell that the people who design these dresses are doing so for them to be worn by a plastic puppet and not another human being. As I pull up the yards and yards of fabric I remind myself not to eat and drink much this evening. I definitely don't want to have to go through this again. I sigh exaggeratingly when I finally am able to sit down without having dropped a single piece of fabric in the lavatory.

My mind dwells back inside that cave and the sudden desperation that shined through Voldemort's eyes when he yelled at me to stop. For a moment there I thought he was going to lose it completely. I don't think I have ever witnessed that much despair in anyone. He hid it quickly behind that cool and collective mask afterwards, but I know what I saw. Well, Professor Snape had at one time told me, I was an insufferable Know-It-All. However, I had no idea I was this bad. I snicker softly. My wonderful personality is driving the most evil wizard of all time over the edge. I begin to shake with laughter. Perhaps I shall nag to him about every detail that is listed in Hogwarts: A History? I can always bug him by saying it clearly states that the Dark Arts are prohibited to be used on these premises. Hahahaha! Oh my god, this is so not funny at all.

I still don't get how I remained so calm inside, while I was obviously the cause of a tremendous amount of despair in someone so dangerous and powerful. I actually felt sorry for him. Can you believe it? Well, that was right before he practically cut off all the circulation to my hands, but still, the man threw me of a cliff and I felt sorry for him. I must be losing my mind too. He doesn't deserve forgiveness or compassion and I doubt he wants to receive it. Ha! Even if he did… well, let's just say he let the wrong person of our trio live for that. Harry might have been able to do it, but I can't. I am not that good. It's true what Yoda said. I have darkness inside of me and it is a vengeful one. Do not touch the people I care about, because I have claws and I strike back. Draco, Rita, Marietta and Umbridge are all great testimonies to that.

Especially, the last one is a good example. It wasn't just Harry she hurt. I remember very clearly how many tiny first years I had to comfort with Murtlap Syrup, because nobody did a damn thing about it. As a prefect I felt obliged to report the tortures to McGonagall, and when that turned out ineffective, I bothered Dumbledore himself with it, but he did nothing. So I led that unbelievable, foul bitch into the Forbidden Forest, because I wanted that toad-face to die, die, and die some more. And if only Dumbledore wouldn't have interfered with my revenge I would have succeeded, but no… he had to stick his big nose into it. So now, Miss Dolores Jane Umbridge is still tormenting others underneath the protective umbrella of the government, instead of being six feet under the ground where she should be.

By Godric, I hate that woman; I really, truly and utterly hate that woman. Really, Voldemort is so wasting his time by trying to sway me in the manner that he does. He'll only have to dangle the prospect of seeing her suffer in front of my nose. I'll jump at the chance. Hell, I'll go all 'My Lord' and 'Master'on him for that. Just for the opportunity to witness that annoyingly sweet and false laugh being wiped off the face of that despicable creature forever. I am still relishing in the visual as I flush the lavatory and walk to the sink. One day I will pay that woman back for every single person she hurt and she will regret ever crossing my path.

A sharp pain stabs straight into my heart and I fall on top of the sink; clutching at my chest. Images flash before my very eyes; some very foul images of the pain I caused others. A strange mist swirls around and Yoda appears, but his face is distorted and his voice seems almost demonic.

'You are falling into darkness … and you will never come back from it … not in the way you were.'

A cackling laugh impacts on my eardrums and I look for the source, but I seem to be unable to find it in this mist. Rotting corpses everywhere, people screaming in pain and terror, and in the middle of it all, I find its origin. A dark, triumphant figure stands on an incline. The figure turns toward me. A hood flies off to reveal a cackling, madly laughing face; my face. I stagger back in fright. No… this is Voldemort's doing. It has to be, but it laughs and it speaks with my voice.

'You did it, Hermione,' it shrieks victorious, 'you got rid of him.'

I stumble over a rotting corpse. It smells horrific and must have been dead for ages, now. I glance at it, afraid of what I may find, and my breath freezes inside my throat. For I see snakelike features and two crimson eyes that are vacant, empty and abandoned of all life.

'It will never end with revenge; never,' my dark self shrieks mocking. 'But it sure as hell ended for him. I won and vengeance is mine; all mine!'

'NO!' I scream in desperation, while my other self laughs beyond recognition. And a dark mist overtakes all.

'No, no, no,' I hear myself mutter repeatedly, while I clutch to the sink.

The sink! I look around disoriented. I am in the bathroom. I am in the bathroom. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. I sigh in relieve, pushing myself upward and looking in the mirror at my reflection. It didn't happen; none of it happened. None of it must ever happen. I can't believe myself. I lectured Lord Voldemort only hours ago on how revenge keeps the pain alive and destroys everything. And here I am relishing in the prospect of getting mine on Umbridge. Oh Godric, I was even mad at Dumbledore for saving my skin, because if Darling Dolores would have died that day, I would have been lost permanently. I feel so much pain and remorse over my thoughts and actions, that I can't stand to look at my reflection anymore and I turn away in shame. Merlin, I am just like him.

'No, you're not,' a soft male voice says calm.

A bright light shines behind me and I turn upon hearing that familiar voice. Whiteness all around and inside the mirror I see a very familiar face with messy black hair, sparkling emerald green eyes and a lighting bolt scar on his forehead smile at me reassuring.

'Harry?' I whisper and I reach out to touch the mirror.

He matches my move and our hands meet at the smooth, shiny surface.

'Hi Hermione,' he replies.

'Are you really there?'

'Probably not,' answers Harry, frowning. 'But you needed me, so…'

'Oh,' I reply disappointed. This is all in my head. I am making this up.

'We're all here for you, Hermione,' Harry continues. 'Remember that.'

The white mist around him clears up and everyone is there. So what if this is all in my head; I'm finally seeing them again. Ron is standing next to Harry and he is looking at me beaming and proud. 'You can do this,' Ron says.

I see Ginny, who is waving at me vigorously and so are Mr and Mrs Weasley. I wave back slightly bemused. 'Out of the way, bro,' George says to an objecting Ron.

'Yes, we have important business to relay to Hermione,' Fred adds, shoving Ron and Harry to the background.

'Very important business,' George says in an affirmative manner to Fred. 'You remember Hogwarts and our final…'

'…most productive year there?' Fred adds devious. He is finishing George's sentence in the manner they always seem to communicate.

'Now, inside the Room of Requirement…' George continues.

'…we might have left, totally by accident of course, a few items behind that…' says Fred.

'…could be of use to future students or other rule breakers, who might want to…' says George.

'…have some fun. Let's say you're in desperate need of a transportable swamp…' Fred adds and he waves his hands around like he is displaying the item before me.

'Or you need to annoy someone with a smell that never goes away?' George replies beaming at Fred.

'Firecrackers that multiply…' Fred suggests.

'A nasty itch at the most inappropriate body parts…' George says devious.

'Obnoxious things that go bump in the night…' Fred snickers.

'You two are not helping,' hisses Percy and he grabs the mischievous twin by their collars and pulls them back. They are still shouting possibilities to me, while Percy drags them away, lecturing them on proper behaviour.

And I laugh out loud. They really are one of a kind. It's when Albus Dumbledore steps into view.

'Nice outfit, sir,' I blurt out, while I am still laughing inside over the twin's suggestions.

He merely chuckles and strokes with his hands affectionately across his colourful, velvet overcoat.

'How are you doing, Miss Granger?' he asks somewhat formal.

I shrug in response. I really don't know how I am doing. I've had this fine revelation of being Voldemort's magical counterpart; after which I've been tortured, dumped off a cliff and saw images of myself as some dark witch. Gosh, I must be fine.

'I believe you have something to discuss with Mr Malfoy,' Dumbledore says and his blue eyes sparkle with that oh so famous twinkle of his. 'Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are currently in the process of convincing him to come over.'

Dumbledore steps aside, but the mirror remains empty. Suddenly, a very reluctant Draco stumbles into view, having obviously been pushed over there by a certain red head, because I can recognise Ron's hands anywhere. The blond folds his arms over each other and turns slightly away from me. And I hear angry voices come from within the mist.

'Behave Ferretboy,' Ron hisses threatening. 'My wand is working properly now, so you'll be the one eating the slugs this time around.'

'Ron,' Harry says warningly, 'this is between Hermione and Draco.'

'I'm merely pointing out it is in his best interest…'

'How is your mother?' I ask Draco, ignoring the other two voices that slowly disappear into the background. 'I never had the chance to properly thank her.'

'She is fine,' he replies shortly.

'I'm glad to hear that,' I say and it becomes silent again. I feel incredibly uncomfortable about this. I never had to engage in small talk with Draco Malfoy of all people. And I don't know how to introduce this properly, so I just blurt it out. 'I'm sorry,' I say.

I see his grey eyes flash furiously towards me. Well, I wasn't expecting an absolution from him.

'Well, you're forgiven then, Granger,' he snarls, glancing back into the mist apprehensively.

I see Ron step forward; his hand is firmly clutched around his wand, but Harry pulls him back into the mist abruptly, telling him once more not to interfere.

'You don't have to forgive me,' I reply quietly.

'You damn right I don't … I hope you rot in hell, Mudblood,' Draco hisses in spite. 'I hope the Dark Lord makes you crawl on your knees for an eternity. I don't care that you're the last hope out there. I hope you suffer beyond your wildest dreams for what you did to me that day.'

I nod understandingly. 'Well, then you've got your wish,' I say calm, allowing him this triumph.

And for a brief moment we stare at each other. A vicious smirk is his response and he seems positively delighted as he paces away. I merely shake my head in sadness. That boy, man, will never change an inch and he will never learn.

'Don't let that prick get to you Hermione,' Ron says.

I smile at him and Harry. They've stepped back into view. My two best friends are here, and yet, they are not.

'He has every right to hate me,' I say to them. 'I just wish he would realise he is only hurting himself by doing so.'

'What did you do?' Harry asks softly.

So I tell them about Draco and every other vengeful dark thing I ever did. All those secrets I kept for so many years; my true motives for leading Umbridge into the woods that day; the fact that the spots on Marietta Edgecombe's face were the result of a Dark Arts Curse I found in the Restricted Section; and how much true darkness rests deeply inside of me. Ron is beginning to deny my assessments, but I see Harry is listening attentively, so I continue. I tell them how I got so lost in darkness that I once cast the Killing Curse at Yoda, because he aggravated me. And how I, despite all the warnings not to leave, went away anyway and used said Unforgivable again.

'You tried to kill Voldemort!' Ron shouts. 'Nobody can hold that against you. They should be cheering you on.'

'I can hold it against myself, Ron,' I reply to his indignant form. 'I know how much of a lure the Dark Arts have on me, and yet, I do not refrain from using them, even though I know what I can become in doing so. I am the wrong person here, Harry. I am not good enough to do this.'

'I have never been a saint myself,' Harry replies smiling at me. 'I used the Cruciatus Curse quite effectively on Amycus Carrow.'

'Ha! See!' says Ron triumphant and he slaps Harry on the back. 'No harm done.'

I smile caringly at Ron's enthusiasm and total lack in understanding. He will never get it, but as I look at Harry I see he does. Well, he should.

'You've carried Voldemort around with you, Harry, and you were still able to make the right choices most of the time. I don't know if I have your strength.'

Harry sighs. 'You're stronger than you think, Hermione. Look at everything you've been through. So you made a few bad choices in the past, but you haven't succumbed to darkness. You've fought it off. You made the choice not to delve into them and remained a part of the light. You need to forgive yourself for the mistakes you made and move on. Only you can do that.'

I feel tremendously blessed with the two best friends that ever walked on this earth. They didn't condemn me as I thought they would. I should have known they wouldn't let me down. I should have known it is my own condemnation I need to deal with. I smile at them.

'I love you both,' I say caringly.

'And we all love you,' Harry says.

Too briefly, I see them all again, waving and smiling at me, and I wave back feeling loved beyond believe as their images slowly dissipates and my reflection returns in the mirror before me. I watch myself for a while and feeling stronger than ever, I exit the bathroom right about the same time as Voldemort re-enters the bedroom. He halts in the doorway, looking even taller and more intimidating in those dress robes. His intense gaze falls upon me.

'I got worried you might have been trying to drown yourself in there,' he says smirking, holding out the door for me.

I raise my eyebrows as I walk towards him. 'Why don't you try using the lavatory in this dress?' I say in jest.

'I sincerely believe it will be a waste of the gown, if anyone else beside you wears it, Hermione. You look absolutely magnificent in it,' he says suavely.

I halt beside him and he is waiting for my reply to his statement expectantly. Voldemort knows very well I don't want to be the centre of attention like this. And I am certain he is trying to unnerve me with these comments. So I let my eyes dart up and down his body deliberately. I tilt my head and give him a sugary smile. Two can play this game.

'Those dress robes make you look mighty dashing yourself,' I say with a sly wink.

Quickly, I walk on, enjoying myself a lot, because the brief astonished expression on his face is priceless. I want to imprint that into my memory permanently, since seeing it is a rather rare sight. The walk down is impressively quiet from thereon. We have almost made it completely down the stairs, when Alecto Carrow comes speeding towards us.

'My Lord,' she says panting, dropping down on her knees. 'We've waited with the sorting ceremony on your arrival as you requested.'

Oh my, did that woman just make the mistake in calling Lord Voldemort late? This is going to get very interesting.

'That is incredibly accommodating of you, Alecto,' Voldemort says in a honeyed tone of voice.

Like I said; interesting. And I see the eyes of the female Death Eater widen upon realising the error she made. 'I didn't … Master … I…' she stutters, but she halts when Voldemort raises his hand.

'Spare me those feeble attempts of apologising, Alecto. And get on your feet,' he orders shortly. 'I believe you haven't had the pleasure of meeting Miss Hermione Jean Granger yet?'

Carrow scrambles back up on her stubby, little legs, before she throws the expected, disgusted glance in my direction. Well, we are talking about'Professor' Alecto Carrow; the so called expert in muggles these days. I doubt it escaped her attention that I am a Muggle-born witch.

'Now, now, Alecto,' Voldemort says admonitory. 'Miss Granger is here as my guest. So where are those famous Carrow manners I heard so much about?' he says ironically and he folds his arms over each other in clear anticipation.

Alecto's beady eyes are darting between me and Voldemort nervously. It's obvious she has no idea how to react to this situation and she is definitely searching for clues to what the Dark Lord is truly expecting from her right now. I notice her eyes are checking Voldemort's posture and expression for something that can enlighten her on what response will be considered correct by him, but he is not helping her out with that cool, blank façade and that neutral posture he is maintaining at the moment.

Now, she is taking in the gown I am wearing and my demeanour, but that seems to confuse her only more. I try to remain as neutral as I possibly can, despite my obvious dislike for someone who feels the need to compare muggles as my parents to… What was it Neville said again? Oh yeah, stupid and dirty animals. However, I don't want Voldemort to start killing off innocent, eleven years olds for some cheeky response of mine that he may perceive as offensive to himself. So I bite my tongue, but there is this tiny, devious voice inside of me that hopes she will say something demeaning to me.

'Perhaps those manners have skipped a generation?' Voldemort notes taunting and he glances amused at the now totally pale Death Eater who doesn't know what to do anymore.

Voldemort, apparently, decides that waiting for a response is an utter waste of his time and he steps forward and moves past her, ignoring her completely. Alecto is scratching her neck, still baffled and uneasy with the situation. Eventually, she recognises the dismissal and hurries off to grace the soon to be sorted, poor children with her presence.

'Hermione,' Voldemort says calm and he motions me to go to the staff entry doors of the Great Hall.

When we've reached the doors, I take a hold of the handle, but Voldemort places his hand on the door preventing me from opening it. I glance sideways questionably, but he is glaring at the moving figure of Alecto and is not saying anything to me. So I let go of the handle and wait. My stomach is hurting, I feel a headache coming up and I am somewhat nauseous. I can't wait for this evening to be over and done with. In a couple of moments I am going to see some very familiar faces again and I am not looking forward to those stares and questionable glances. Alecto's footsteps hurry around the corner and Voldemort looks back at me. His hand touches my cheek.

'You did well with Alecto. I trust I don't have to remind you what is at stake here?' he says quietly and ever so threatening.

I shake my head slightly in response and swallow down the huge lump that was forming back in my throat. Subconsciously, I rub my hands over the dress, because my palms feel mighty sweaty. Merlin, I am so damn anxious. I'd rather be dumped off a cliff right about now. Well, maybe that is a bit exaggeratingly, but… you get the drift. Voldemort is narrowing his eyes at me and he places his hand in my neck.

'Try and relax a bit, Hermione,' he says calm, rubbing my neck. 'Everyone will be quite safe as long as you show me respect tonight. Just follow my lead and let me handle matters if there are any complications. I promise; you will not be harmed in there.'

My safety isn't exactly what I am afraid for, but I nod nevertheless and Voldemort motions me to open the door. I take a deep breath and walk inside the Great Hall. I feel Voldemort's hand on the small of my back as he guides me in the right direction. Immediately upon our entrance, everyone stands up from their seat to pay their respects to Lord Voldemort. Every eye in the room is focused on our location. I notice shock, disbelieve, disgust and glee, but even some worried looks are cast in my direction.

All kind of emotions seem to whirl around in the minds of those present upon noticing me, but my eyes fall upon the teacher's table or what seems to be the teacher's and Death Eater's table these days. For Voldemort's cronies sure have made themselves comfortable up there. They seem a lot more at ease being there at the moment than the teachers. I remember a lot of them, because only Minerva McGonagall, Pomona Sprout and Hagrid went down fighting. The rest of the staff saved their skins quite adequately. If everybody would have fought more in unison we might have been able to keep Voldemort at bay, but Harry's death followed by Neville's brutal torture caused a huge rift between the already feeble alliances that were formed earlier that night.

The shiny, bald head of Horace Slughorn sticks out the most on that table. His prominent eyes practically fall out of their sockets upon noticing me and I can see the wheels inside his mind rotating. Probably trying to figure out whether this can benefit him in some manner. I have never seen anyone change sides faster than Slughorn. He decided it was no use to fight anymore long before Voldemort had retaken Hogwarts. Trelawney is sitting right next to him and I can't really blame her for being here. That is just due to Voldemort and his stupid obsession with prophecies. A smile forms on my face as I remember how Sybill swirled those enormous crystal spheres around and kept on throwing them, until they stunned her. She seems to be in her usual, intoxicated state though. I wonder how many sherry bottles will end up in the Room of Requirement this evening.

We pass them all relatively quickly and Voldemort is moving to the large Headmaster's chair, which is flanked by Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. Now, what the hell is he expecting me to do? Stand? Sit on the ground? I glance back at him, puzzled, but he only smiles and pulls me down in the chair with him. Oh terrific, I get to be his little lapdog. The impulse to fight his behaviour is large, but his gaze reminds me of the threat he uttered beforehand and I know it's not an empty one. So I remain seated and look around the Hall. I notice everyone has sat down after Voldemort took his seat, and he motions casually with his hand to Amycus Carrow to continue, before wrapping his arm back around my waist and pulling me close. I see Lestrange's jaw drop slightly at this move and her dark, heavy-lidded eyes are glaring at me with bottled-up anger and a badly covered up emotion that is definite envy. I'm certain that if looks could kill, I'd be as dead as her late husband right about now. This is going to be a long evening.

Amycus Carrow is incredibly boring as he goes on and on and on about the rules and regulations of Hogwarts. And I have to stifle a yawn, before my minds wanders off to events earlier that day. It's been a weird, dreadful, but also informative day. Voldemort told me something about his past that I doubt he has ever told another human being. It's quite sad actually. I wouldn't have wanted to live in those days and be dependent on charity. It must have been quite grim to live in an orphanage in the nineteen-thirties, and then to have someone, twice your age, attack you in that manner. I shiver.

A breath brushes my ear. 'Cold?' Voldemort whispers, taking a hold of my hand and rubbing it gently.

I shake my head in denial. 'I'm fine,' I reply softly.

'I can always warm you up a bit,' he whispers snickering. 'But if you're fine…'

And he leaves it at that; thank Merlin. Carrow is still going on about everything prohibited in the corridors and on the grounds. Filch must be utterly thrilled with this idiot running things. His speech is so totally uninteresting to listen to and I automatically fall back into dwelling on the information of Voldemort's past that I haven't had a chance to properly assess, yet.

Still, I already knew his childhood hadn't been easy, but that he got assaulted as a young boy was definitely something that escaped Dumbledore's attention. Voldemort told me in great detail how he managed to evade and even push Dennis off magically most of the times, even though he was unaware he was a wizard himself. And I was quite shocked to hear all the stuff he was already capable of performing deliberate and consciously at that young an age. But he hadn't succeeded to stop Dennis all the time.

And he informed me how some of that lack of success was due to the fact that he had to hide his abilities from Mrs Cole, whom was already suspicious of his person after the Billy Stubbs' rabbit incident and whom did not like him at all. It seems the woman who ran the orphanage was clever enough not to trust young Tom one single bit and he knew it. I could tell by the way Voldemort spat out her name. Too bad Mrs Cole didn't see through Bishop's not so fine character either, because I think Dennis managed to do even more damage on an already pretty disturbed boy to begin with.

It's when Voldemort told me in great detail how he came up with the idea to use the annual trip as a means to make certain Bishop would never harass him again. It turns out little Amy Benson's presence was just a mere bonus; the icing on the cake. Tom had travelled the seaside on his own in the years before Dennis Bishop arrived at the orphanage. It's how he knew the cave was there. A place, where he could do what he wanted to do to Bishop, undisturbed. Voldemort told me that he was always doing things on his own, so no one felt it was strange that he wandered off again. From what I gather, none of the other children or adults would have minded to be rid of Tom for a few moments either. So without Mrs Cole's prying, meddling eyes interfering in his business he got more than even. Or so Voldemort spat out.

And I do understand the desire for revenge, I truly do. But what he did to those two at age seven is unbelievable. It's sick and disturbing beyond believe. I can see why Mrs Cole said to Dumbledore that Amy and Dennis never were the same again after their trip with Tom. I sincerely doubt they ever completely recovered from that. The problem with it all is that little Tom picked up all the wrong things from those events. Only rely on yourself, never seek help and get even whenever you can. I haven't said it to him at the time, because I didn't want to interrupt his sudden streak of openness, but Bishop's routine in charming the adults to think he was harmless reminds me a lot of Riddle's routine in charming the Professors at Hogwarts. And then there was little Amy who managed to blame others for her actions, because she was such a beautiful, innocently appearing girl. And all I see is Rubeus Hagrid who got expelled from Hogwarts, because Tom Riddle told on him. Why can't that man ever pick up anything positive from another? He is so damn good at mimicking the bad stuff.

Finally, the Sorting Hat is brought out. I wonder how he fixed it after burning it into a crisp on Neville's head. Perhaps it wasn't really destroyed? Maybe Godric Gryffindor charmed it to protect it against attacks? Who knows? Oh look, it's the yucky Carrow woman with the scroll. Poor children. Having to be sorted with that standing next to you.

We're a long way into the sorting ceremony, when the first Gryffindor is sorted and a tiny boy jumps of the stool and walks to his House table under much more scrutiny than the others who got sorted. I'm beginning to see why Voldemort reinstated the Houses after he first got rid of all evidence the other three Founders ever existed. The sorting procedure sure is a perfect way in detecting possible threats early on.

'Eliza Smith,' Alecto Carrow calls out.

There is no movement among the group remaining. Carrow coughs and shuffles on her feet and calls out the name again, but nobody steps forward and Carrow moves on to the next name.

'Looks like some Hufflepuffs have been foolish, my Lord,' Bella whispers, pleased. 'I will be delighted to explain to them that absence is not tolerated.'

'No, thank you, Bella,' Voldemort says dismissive, 'I will reserve that pleasure for myself. Besides, don't you have baby business to attend to?' he adds mocking.

'My Lord, I will never let anything get in the way of serving you,' Bella replies indignant. 'My children are born so they can follow your lead.'

Gosh, I really have to bite my tongue now. Little eleven year olds, little eleven year olds… I just need to repeat that in my mind over and over again, before I do something incredibly irresponsible. Bellatrix is still watching Voldemort hopeful for a positive response on her declaration of servitude of her children, but it remains awfully quite behind me. I see how she is slowly turning red in the face and I sense no positive vibes whatsoever coming from the person she wants to receive them from. Finally, Voldemort deals another blow to Bella's ego.

'I hope their hearing is not as impaired as yours and Rodolphus's, then. I'll be so disappointed, if I will have to deal with another couple of morons who seem to think my orders are only to be followed when it is convenient for their own benefit.'

'Master?'

'I am neither blind nor deaf, Bella. You've allowed your own emotions towards Miss Granger to cloud your judgement. I have no use for servants who can't obey orders,' he adds menacingly.

Bella's eyes widen considerably. 'But … but Master,' she stutters. 'The girl…'

Voldemort interrupts her before she can finish her sentence and I am beginning to get the impression he is trying to trigger something here. He has never humiliated Bellatrix Lestrange in front of me before. What is he getting at?

'You've been disloyal to me, Bella. Now, I have let it slide this once, because I trust you will not make it a reoccurring event. Next time I will not be so kind.'

If that wasn't a threat, then I don't know what is.

'We only sought after your interest, my Lord. The girl is beneath you and she insulted you,' Bella adds, desperate to lay the blame elsewhere.

Voldemort takes a hold of my head and turns it towards him. I see the excited, utterly gleeful expression on Bella's face, when she thinks he is going to hurt me. My chest is constricting in fear as he cups my cheek and gazes down at me. 'If Miss Granger here insults me, Bella,' he replies, looking straight into my eyes, 'I will deal with her personally. Or are you suggesting I require your assistance in punishing her?'

Bella stutters something completely incomprehensible.

'I thought not,' Voldemort says coldly to her. Apparently, he was able to make heads and tails of that muttering.

All the while, he keeps staring into my eyes, caressing my skin lightly. 'But I do not require punishing her,' he continues quietly and his gaze turns quite intense, 'because unlike you lot, she has the intelligence to listen to my orders and follow them.'

I hear the underlying threat in that sentence and I feel his fingers move tighter around the back of my head as he moves toward me. Oh no, he is not going to kiss me in front of everybody, is he? I really can't… And his lips are on mine, his arms tighten around me and he moves his tongue inside of my mouth forcefully. I register Lestrange's gasp and the chair that falls backward, when she jumps on her feet.

'She is a Mudblood!' Bella shrieks outraged and thoroughly frantic.

Lord Voldemort smiles on my mouth. He flicks his wrist to make his wand appear and a split-second later Bellatrix is on the floor screaming in agony, while he is still kissing me. It seems someone is able to multitask. Suddenly, he swirls me around and I land with my back in the seat, while he is on his feet prowling around Lestrange. The people who sat next to Lestrange have scattered away to safer grounds and are standing at the end of the podium monitoring the events in front of there eyes fearfully.

And I sit there frozen still, while Lord Voldemort demonstrates his abilities in front of the entire student body and everyone else present. Lestrange twitches, writhes and curls in impossible angles and her screams are devastating. And he is standing there, quite calmly, waving his wand ever so casually at one of his most loyal followers, merely to get the point across that I am not to be touched, that I am his and they just have to accept that fact. He had to be counting on Bella to react in this manner. This has been his plan all along.

Finally, after a dreadfully long time Bellatrix Lestrange collapses and dies in a horrific manner. Voldemort lowers his wand satisfied and he starts to speak very softly, but there isn't a single soul inside the Great Hall that doesn't hear him. 'Miss Granger belongs to me now, and I won't tolerate any more disrespect to her as I will tolerate towards myself. This is what happens to those who think they can question my judgement and disobey me.'

He swirls around and holds out his hand to me. I shouldn't take it. I shouldn't allow him to win this, but I am stuck. He set me up and cornered me perfectly; just like he did with Bella. So I accept his outstretched hand, because I have no choice. His other hand comes to rest possessively on my back again. 'Lucius.'

'Yes, Master,' Lucius says bowing down in fright, while knowing full well he is the only one of the trio still alive.

'Make certain the Lestrange children are well taken care of.'

'Yes, Master,' Malfoy responds, relieved he is not cursed into oblivion. 'I will see to it immediately.'

And Voldemort guides me out of there. It isn't until we've reached the privacy of his living room that I open my mouth. 'You're mad; crazy,' I mumble.

He twirls me around. 'Am I, Hermione?' he says smiling.

'You do realise this can backfire on you severely,' I reply, shaking my head in disbelieve over everything that just transpired. 'Everyone out there knows how devoted Bellatrix Lestrange was to you.'

'Is that concern for my wellbeing there?' he asks amused.

'Not particularly,' I say abrupt. 'You set me up. You planned this.'

He smirks. 'And it worked out so perfectly,' he says tilting his head. 'I knew Bella would go into one of her delusional, jealous fits, if I kissed you in front of her. No one will dare to get near you now, Hermione Granger. Cursing Bella showed them all to what lengths I am willing to go, when it comes down to protect my property. I must say I do regret losing such a valuable and skilful follower, but she would never have accepted you, a Muggle-born witch, at my side.'

'So you killed her, because she thoroughly believed in that bullshit propaganda you preach around!' I say, outraged at his reasoning.

'Just because you are the exception to the rule, doesn't mean I am mistaken, Hermione. Besides I killed her, because she disobeyed my orders, because she would have remained a constant threat to me. You understand I have to take precautions now that it appears people can curse me by targeting you,' Voldemort says quietly.

My mouth stands slightly ajar and I can feel nothing but astonishment and it must be visible all over my face, but I just can't believe this … this total disregard of another human life. The casual manner in which he disposed of Bellatrix Lestrange shows the total and utter lack of concern or respect he holds others in, even those who will follow him to hell and back again. And I shouldn't be surprised, but I still am. He killed others; others far more precious and close to me. I never liked Bellatrix Lestrange and I am not sorry she is gone, but still the manner and reason as to why… This… this bothers me severely. It is all so cold and calculative.

'She and the others would never have cursed me, if they knew they were hitting you,' I say softly and sorrowful.

'So you think I should have enlightened them on a possible weakness?' he snarls. 'Perhaps even pray they won't find some means to use you against me? As long as you continue to resist me Hermione, I can't allow you to use your powers to their full extend, and as long as you can't use your powers, we both are vulnerable to attacks.'

'You think Bellatrix Lestrange would have attacked you? She worshipped the very ground you walk on!' I say stupefied over this ridiculous paranoia.

'People talk; they let things slip. And before you know it, those who call themselves your friends will turn on you. You can never trust another with your vulnerabilities. Never! It will be used against you, and you will be taken advantage of!' he shouts furious and his hands are clenched into fists.

'Oh, let me guess, another sob story of your dreadful childhood,' I sneer, ignoring his obvious fury, because now, I feel pretty pissed off myself. 'Well, you know what, Riddle, there are more people out there, who didn't have it easy when they were children. But I don't see them all turning into megalomaniacal, world conquering, power-hungry, uncaring bastards.'

It falls silent upon my words and I know I've crossed the line. I close my eyes and wait for whatever curse is going to impact upon me, but a second later a door slams shut forcefully, making me jerk in fear upon the sudden noise and I open my eyes to a completely empty living room. He left. He actually left. Undoubtedly, he is going to stick his head in the sand again and take it out on some poor defenceless person. The Smiths come to mind.

'Coward!' I yell at the door, frustrated, because I know my own words have just set me back significantly.

Why do I always blurt out everything? And I grab the vase on the table and throw it to the door. It crashes into a million pieces, but that doesn't relieve my anger one single bit. I growl and fall back into the soft cushions on the sofa. This certainly is one hell of a day. I look down at the Amulet that hangs on my neck. I can't believe he found it. He is going to heal his soul and then rip it apart again for his brainless immortality fetish. Why did the Elves help him locate this? And how on earth did I manage to get inside that cave? It bothers me severely that I can't come up with a single idea as to how I did that. I mean, I got in there once; I must be able to think of the solution to this problem again. But the more I think about it, the more I realise I had no way in there. Unless … but I couldn't have … I wouldn't have … No.

I stare at the ceiling, absentmindedly. Is it possible that I did that? If so … then maybe I have a chance to get rid of this item once more, right underneath Voldemort's very absent nose. I snort as I realise that statement is true in so many ways. Well, I suppose there is no harm in finding out, if I did it like that.

'Kreacher!' I call out.

Crack. And the House-elf appears out of nowhere before me. His bat-like ears are pointing upward in great anticipation and his bloodshot eyes seem to be monitoring me excitedly.

'Does Master Harry Potter's friend require Kreacher's help again?' croaks Kreacher in his bullfrog's voice.

Oh no, he said again. I did it. 'Kreacher, do you recognise this?' I ask the House-elf and hold up the Amulet.

Kreacher gasps. 'Kreacher did as Mistress Hermione Granger asked,' he squeaks. 'Kreacher hid the Amulet of Aine in the basin in the cave he went to with Master Regulus. Kreacher has not told a soul wh…'

'I know, I know,' I hastily interrupt the now completely, frantic House-elf. 'I am not blaming you. Vol…'

The House-elf shrinks several inches in fright, and his huge ears drop, as I am about the say the name of the man who murdered practically all his previous Masters. So I correct myself quickly. 'You-Know-Who,' I say, feeling utterly ridiculous for doing so, 'has found the Amulet with the help of Maglor Silimaurë.'

Kreacher snorts indignant upon hearing the name of a distant relative. 'Everon Elves are not to be trusted, Mistress Hermione. They take no pride in a proper Elf's work.'

'Yeah,' I mutter not wanting to get entangled into that feud and my hands go to the lock of the necklace to take it off. 'Can you hide this Amulet some place safe, Kreacher?' I ask, 'some place where not even Everon Elves can find it?'

Kreacher's mouth broadens in sheer delight. 'It will be Kreacher's pleasure to hide this from Everon for Master Harry Potter's friend.'

'And it needs to be hidden from me and Vo… You-Know-Who too,' I add getting a bit heated, because I can't seem to get a grip on the tiny locking mechanism.

Kreacher nods happily. 'Kreacher knows just the place.'

'You'll need to disappear after you've hidden it, Kreacher. I won't be able to keep your involvement from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named again. I can't use magic right now, so I can't Obliviate this from my mind,' I say, while growling in frustration at the blasted lock. I am pretty certain my head has turned completely red now and I still haven't opened the thing.

'Kreacher can remove memory for Mistress if she pleases,' the House-elf offers enthusiastic.

'That sounds like a good idea, Kreacher,' I say and I drop the necklace in resignation. 'But can you first unlock this necklace for me. I seem to be unable to do so.'

I drop to my knees so Kreacher can reach it and he takes a hold of the necklace only to let go of it again. 'There is no more lock, Mistress Hermione.'

'What?' I say shocked and slightly disturbed.

'It is fused together,' Kreacher explains.

I growl and look at the necklace. Well, I suppose it seems long enough. I probably can just pull it over my head. I can't believe I didn't think of that, before I got all red in the face from trying to remove it the other way. I place my fingers underneath the silver cord and am about to pull it upward, when it suddenly slips out of my fingers on its own accord and I feel the damn necklace tighten around my neck. Oh shit.

'Get out of here, Kreacher,' I order panicking, when I hear a door being slammed open violently in the distance.

I hear the familiar crack and I am relieved that Kreacher has left for safer grounds. Stars are beginning the form in front of my eyes due to the necklace that is bloody strangling me. This really isn't my day. I feel I am gasping like a fish on land, since nothing is passing through my windpipe and I crash to the floor, unable to remain seated, about the same time Voldemort swirls inside the living room. When he squats beside me I see him shake his head somewhat disappointed.

'I had a feeling you might try something with that Amulet, Hermione, but I wasn't expecting it this soon,' Voldemort says evenly, while his hand touches my neck and the cord loosens immediately.

I gasp, take a deep breath and start coughing violently. Voldemort has grabbed my arm and is hauling me upward into a seated position. My hand goes to my throat that is aching severely and I can feel the imprint of the cord in my skin along with something wet that turns out to be my blood. I watch my hand in astonishment and my breath sticks in my still sore throat. I can't believe this is happening to me. I just can't. A rough pull on my arms and I am facing him again.

'Breathe, Hermione,' he orders, staring at me intently.

My body tries to breathe, but I don't want to. And somehow it seems like I still can't. My throat feels like it is in a permanent state of constriction. Lord Voldemort is now shaking me back and forth. I really don't want him touching me again. This is like the third time he has almost killed me today. I wish he will just get it right for once, so it will all be over and done with. I really want to die.

'Hermione, calm down,' I hear his annoyed voice say in the distance. 'Get a grip woman!'

This has to end. It just has to end. I want it to end, now! Oh God, someone make this end now. A slap in my face makes me take in a deep breath and I stare in total fury at the man before me.

'You!' I cough out and I start hitting him wherever I can.

Within seconds he overtakes me and I scream my lungs out in absolute despair. This is never going to end. I am stuck in this hellhole forever. Oh God, I just want to die. I close my eyes and feel my body trembling severely. My tears start flowing like crazy and as I cry out loud I feel his arms around me and he pulls me to his chest, holding me tightly.

'Please, just kill me, please,' I cry pleading.

'Shhhh…' he shushes me, while stroking my hair, 'you're going to be fine, darling. I've got you.'

'No, please. Please, I can't live like this.'

'It's alright,' he says soothing and he rocks me back and forth. 'Just lean on me, I'll take care of you.'

I bury my face in his robes and start crying my eyes out. His hand comes to rest on the back of my head and somehow his arms are comforting me. He is holding me and I cling to him for support. Suddenly, he lifts my chin and makes me look into his eyes. He is watching me expectantly.

'Allow me in, Hermione,' he says, consoling me. 'Allow me in and you won't have to live like this.'

Hopefully I stare at him. 'You will kill me?' I ask, seeking reassurance.

'I will make the pain go away. Let me in Hermione,' he repeats. 'It will all be over, I promise.'

I want it to be over. I really do. His lips brush mine and I close my eyes when we kiss ever so softly. He pulls away from the kiss and as I reopen my eyes I stare right in his. And he is giving me a caring look, while I lie in his arms. I can't break free from those eyes. I feel like I am falling right into them. They're so red. How can anyone have such red eyes? It's so unusual. And I am mesmerised by them.

'What do I do?' I ask in resignation.

'Give me control over your mind,' he whispers softly.

'How?' I respond whispering also.

'Close your eyes,' he commands.

And I comply and listen to that soothing voice. 'Let go of all thoughts, feelings and emotions.'

That sounds so familiar. I've done that a thousand times before. I can do that again. Finally, it's going to be over. It's what I really want. And I release my thoughts, feelings and emotions.

'Good,' he purrs, 'clear your mind and open it.'

I can practically dream that sentence so many times Yoda has spoken it, but then, it diverts after I opened my mind.

'Hear me.'

And I am slightly confused. That isn't what is supposed to come next.

'Feel my emotions,' Voldemort continues.

Now, that doesn't sound like a swell idea, but then my pain is taken away and that feels blissful. And I feel nothing at first, total emptiness and then … darkness; unbelievable, all consuming darkness. Hatred, envy, cold determination, ambition, ruthlessness, cruelty, aggression, anger, dishonesty, insecurity, hypersensitivity, uncaring, denial, loneliness, desperation and fright; absolute and utter fright. It is fear beyond believe. I've never felt anything quite like it. Nobody can possibly live with fear like that. It's dreadful and it drags you down.

'Let them enter,' I hear his voice in the background, 'and feel my magic run through your body.'

His darkness is beginning to fill me up. And I am shocked at feeling that much fear inside someone who instils so much of it on others, but I now know that his is the greatest angst of all. A sharp pain stabs into my heart and I realise I haven't felt a single positive thing coming from him. Not one. It's horrific and sad. So this is what an absence of love creates. He must feel so lost all the time, to be so unwanted, unloved … by everyone.

I've been so lucky and blessed to have such wonderful parents and friends who cared for me and loved me. Images of my childhood flash before my eyes and it makes me incredibly happy. And as love engulfs me, the darkness that began to consume me, is thrust out of me violently. The sheer force of it throws Voldemort and me across the room. I crash into the opposite wall and smile knowingly. For I have nothing to fear. I can love.
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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory