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

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
a/n
Hi!
Now that it a mega quick update. I have written over 70 thousand words in a bit over a month…my fingers hurt and my brain is a bit numb already.
I cannot promise a fast update, as the next chapters are not that easy to write from several POVs. This chapter is also the last "light" chapter for a while, as the story is actually dark, and I need to keep it that way.
I would like to thank everyone who reviewed and shared their thoughts with me.
Ice Empress- thank you so so much! I am so glad you see it my way :)))
Relatela and Kelli- thank you! I updated extra fast :)
While I do not chase after reviews, I do want to hear your honest opinion, as I want to improve. I mean, I give you chapters so quickly, that you could spend a minute and just tell me what you liked the most, or what you'd like to see in the next chapters. Or what you didn't like. Please?
In this chapter, you get an answer to the question as to why I gave Voldemort blue eyes- no matter how pale, they're still blue. That is, if you still haven't guessed… ;)
This is my favorite chapter so far...grins
Music that Hermione listens to: Nero by Two Steps From Hell (I really suggest you listen to it, it's magnificent)
Beta: Serpent In Red
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Two Steps From Hell
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Chapter Sixteen
"Where is my birthday gift, Hermione?"
Hermione sat in her—it was a bit closer to the parapet—bright red chair, leaning a bit forward and looking at the illuminated figures as they sat on the chairs inside the cone on the very bottom.
Voldemort's sudden question caught her unprepared—didn't he say the show was about to start?—and as she turned her head back and to the left, she almost touched his nose with hers.
He was that close.
Pale-blue eyes were only a few centimeters away, and Hermione noticed thin darker rings around the pale irises, the long black lashes, and perfectly-shaped eyebrows, before her gaze dropped lower, to look at the straight nose and sensual lips.
While Hermione did know it was his birthday today—Harry mentioned it while they were Horcrux hunting—she didn't get him anything, as she still didn't know what he had done with the cup she had created for him for the Christmas.
She wasn't some sort of dog that brought bones for its master so he could throw them away.
Even though she was more than sure that Voldemort had heard everything she was thinking, he was still silently watching her from a close distance, leaning a bit forward on his right elbow.
His posture was as elegant as was his scent.
"Why would I get you anything if you still haven't told me anything about the cup I have given you for Christmas?"
She was Hermione Granger and if she could do and say anything, she'd use it.
She wasn't some sniveling idiot.
One black eyebrow rose and a corner of Voldemort's mouth twitched up.
Hermione would have sneered, but his face was so close, and as the white—straight—teeth were revealed again, she pursed her lips.
"And what about the cup?"
Well …
She almost said "How about a thank you", but it was just too stupid.
Voldemort didn't even thank the element—so embarrassing!—and Hermione was sure she'd never hear words "Thank you" leave those lips, so she asked a different question, all the while looking into the pale-blue eyes.
"Did you like it?"
Her heart was once again running a marathon in a sixty degrees Celsius heat as Voldemort leaned even closer and touched the tip of her nose with his.
The sparks that she felt in her lower stomach almost made her wiggle in the chair.
"I did." The nose tip slowly moved left and then right.
"Why are you doing this?"
Hermione's dry throat managed to release the raspy question as she licked her again dry lips.
"And why do you think I am doing this?" Voldemort's voice was so tender and sensual that Hermione had to blink away the red fog of arousal.
"You are seducing me," Hermione whispered as those firm lips were almost touching her cheek now, the silky black hair caressing her skin.
"Mhmmm …"
The Dark Lord hummed as his lips tenderly touched her cheek, and Hermione almost exploded from the sensations.
"And how I am doing?" The gorgeous lips were now only a hair's breadth away from hers and Hermione swallowed hard.
"I think you know that even better than me."
The sensual lips stretched into a sincere smile, and Hermione's enlarged pupils noticed how tender and soft the lips looked from such a close distance.
"I do."
Bastard. Would he kiss me …
Dear Merlin! If she thought for a second just what she wanted to do and with whom …
It was "the who" that was the biggest turn-on and the biggest problem at the same time, Hermione thought, looking at the beautiful lips.
And then the lips were gone as Lord Voldemort leaned back into his armchair, and Hermione really wanted to smack him in the face.
To break his straight nose. To hurt him.
"Such fierceness, such violence is hidden under all those layers of affectation that I cannot wait to see it emerge."
Voldemort's eyes were now red, and Hermione had to take a deep breath before leaning back to the Dark Lord—he didn't move—and whispering into his smirking lips.
"You'll feel it."
No one messed with Hermione Granger like that and got away with it.
Dark Lords included.
Hermione sat more comfortably in her armchair and told herself she wasn't smiling when she heard a quiet but honest laugh from her left.
"My fiery Gryffindor …"
xxx
The darkened cone with only the illuminated figures with all sorts of musical instruments on the bottom started to vibrate and pulsate with magic.
Suddenly, from the small opening in the bottom—she could see everything from her place—a fountain of brilliant colors erupted, and small creatures with big, transparent wings filled the dark cone.
Hermione felt the silk on her naked arm, and she knew Voldemort was leaning close to her again; his elegant cool scent clouded her mind.
He was affecting her mind, and if she didn't want to embarrass herself, she had to pay more attention to the creatures than to the person sitting so near again.
Hermione felt like she had needles pinned to all her nerve endings and senses. She couldn't concentrate at the moment on anything but him when he was so near.
"Elemental fairies." A whisper into her left ear, and a tongue suddenly licked the spot under her earlobe.
Hermione thought she had pissed herself for a second before mortifying realization hit her numb mind.
She was so aroused that the nipples stood out like mountains, their peaks touching the silky red bra, and her underwear …
She'd have to throw it away, alongside with the dress and the chair that were probably also wet.
"Enjoy the music."
Fuck you.
A quiet laugh, and a second later, tender notes of piano filled the cave.
xxx
Fuck you.
If he thought about it, only Potter had dared to tell him those two words once, and Potter had spent two relaxing minutes under the Cruciatus for those words. One for each.
No one dared to even think about saying something like that to him, and with a smirk, Voldemort realized he enjoyed it.
It was so refreshing, so …
He'd have to take a closer look at his Mudblood—Hermione—as today, she surprised him pleasantly.
If she really managed to get his interest, she'd be the first one.
He had women here and there, but no one could catch and hold his attention for a long time.
Not even for an hour.
But this brave Gryffindor was slowly making herself more and more interesting, and only if she proved herself, he'd take her.
Fully and without return.
He wasn't a laundry.
Looking at the amazed and awed face of his Horcrux, Voldemort smiled.
He had two more surprises for her today, and he knew she'd hate one, but she'd love the other.
Too bad for her, the other would turn to be her downfall. Not the other way around, like she would think.
He had done everything to the perfection today—the location, the atmosphere, the attention …
He showed her he could be different.
He knew that Hermione had already given him a name—luckily for her, she wasn't an idiot—and he let her.
She needed to separate the Dark Lord, the Hood—not very impressive, but he didn't mind—and him—Marvolo.
Hermione was calling him by his middle name—for the first name, she would have flown down the cone, no matter what he said—and Voldemort didn't mind.
Let her have her fun while it lasted.
As soon as all three images merged into one, she'd be ready.
They had a long road ahead of them, and if she broke, he'd fix her.
But only once.
People appreciated things not only when the things were taken away from them but also in comparison.
She'd ask him herself to start her downfall, and she wouldn't even realize it.
With a pleased hum, Voldemort closed his pale-blue eyes.
He loved this melody.
xxx
It was the eleventh, the last melody.
The piano tones filled the hole, and Hermione felt goosebumps on her naked arms. The violin in the background was so gentle and quiet, and the piano notes were light but soul-touching.
Hermione had always loved classical music, and what she was hearing was simply magical.
The elemental fairies were flowing slowly, their tiny bodies glowing in the dark with red, blue, green and white colors, and Hermione could swear she had never seen anything more perfect.
As the piano started to speed up and the horns with violin started to increase in power, Hermione felt a tremor in her knees. She had never heard a more powerful but tender melody in her life.
It told a story.
It felt like her story.
The fairies started to fly with more speed, and when the music rose to its peak, Hermione tore her gaze from the magic in the cone and looked at the Dark Lord, meeting his satisfied and relaxed pale- blue eyes.
Hermione felt as if the tune was her own life—tender and gentle, but then, when it started to speed up, it was the time when he crashed into her life, raising the volume and power until the tune changed from touching to overwhelming.
Hermione saw the smile on those cruel lips as the piano started to slow down again, and then she felt a cool hand move her hair to one side, and those lips touched her neck from behind.
"Do you enjoy it?"
The voice was smooth and a bit tender, and Hermione didn't know what he wanted to hear.
She was overwhelmed with the music and the lips, and there was nothing she could do when her body turned a bit in the armchair, her trembling hand gripping the blood-red vest as the cool lips touched hers.
Her loud moan was swallowed by the overwhelming violin, trumpets, and piano tones, as those sensual lips finally closed over her red mouth, touching slowly, but not fully kissing her.
Something inside her was burning now and she didn't care.
As her bottom lip was licked by a cool tongue and then those lips fully closed around hers, allowing to feel him, Hermione moaned into the sweet mouth as she started to come so hard that she couldn't even sit.
Strong arms lifted her from the chair, and the next second, her trembling-in-the-orgasm body was in Voldemort's—Marvolo's—lap, as he started to kiss her with more force, the music flowing around them, his one arm around her waist, and the other holding her hair in a fist.
Through the shocks in her body and clouded mind, Hermione opened her eyes for a second to look into the pale-blue eyes before closing them again, her one hand in the silky black hair and the other holding tightly to the blood-red silk vest.
She never wanted it to stop.
xxx
Hermione's bottom lip was released as the melody came to the end, and Hermione wanted the lips and the music back.
She was now looking into the pale eyes, her lips still trembling from the insane kiss, and she tasted the sweet wine on her tongue. She could feel her feminine parts convulse in pleasure, and it felt magical.
She wanted more.
"Later." A sweet whisper, one more slow touch to her lips, and then Voldemort was withdrawing.
The next second she was in her own chair with mad eyes and a galloping heart as Voldemort stood up and touched her cheek with his elegant hand.
"The evening isn't over yet, Hermione."
She had kissed Voldemort.
Marvolo!
And she wanted to do it again.
The clever pale eyes told her he knew it even without reading her thoughts.
Looking at the tall figure of Lord Voldemort—Marvolo—that was illuminated by the light from the magical fairies, Hermione accepted the fact that she could lie no longer.
She was in love.
xxx
Hermione shivered in her warm, velvety cloak, as she stood face to face with Lord Voldemort on Mount Everest, holding his silky vest in a fist that she wouldn't be able to open even if he threw her down into the abyss.
She had already fallen.
"I have a gift for you."
An elegant hand removed her curly hair from her eyes as the winds blew, and Hermione almost leaned into the touch. She couldn't control her body; she wanted to touch him, to feel him again.
"What gift?"
Hermione whispered into the soft lips that were slowly touching hers but not quite kissing.
As Voldemort tilted his head back a bit, Hermione wanted to smack him.
He was such a tease!
"For Christmas, of course. You didn't think I'd forget about my fiery Gryffindor?"
The voice was low and a bit mocking, and Hermione almost gaped at him.
But Christmas was already behind!
"I find it is much more pleasurable when you have to wait for it."
No shit.
"Hermione, Hermione. You are lucky there's still a half an hour until midnight."
Voldemort was smirking at her now, and Hermione realized that those were the last minutes she was with Marvolo before he would be replaced with Lord Voldemort and Crucios.
"Then give me my gift."
She had thirty minutes, and she'd talk to him like she wanted before again retreating back and waiting for another chance to say what she wished.
The lips that she had kissed with such passion were stretched in a smirk as Voldemort leaned closer to her ear, his cool and toxic scent overwhelming her sensitive body.
"Tell me what you want and you'll get it. Within reason, of course."
Hermione's aroused mind was now suddenly clear as millions of questions started to bombard it from all directions.
"Be careful what you wish for, Hermione."
Voldemort was giving her anything she wanted—within reason—and Hermione licked her lips when she understood what she needed.
She wouldn't be falling for Voldemort if she had Ron.
Had Ron been awake, she wouldn't be standing on the Mount Everest like a wanton whore clinging to Marvolo's vest.
She couldn't be in love with Voldemort!
It was wrong on so many levels that she had to try to do something about it.
And he was actually giving her a chance.
Voldemort's weak point was that he did not fully understand the feelings of love, joy, or compassion, and therefore, he underestimated them.
She'd crawl her way up from this hole.
Her mind was made.
"Wake up Ronald Weasley."
A raised eyebrow and Voldemort closed his eyes.
And then Hermione saw a slow nod.
Dear god, would he really …?
Hermione actually leaned forward and pressed her madly smiling face into the black silky shirt, and as she closed her eyes, breathing in the cool scent, she missed the satisfied smile on the handsome face and the smart, red eyes that twinkled now.
xxx
"You will not hurt him, will you?" Hermione asked again as she was standing near the Burrow, looking at the black cloak of Lord Voldemort billow in the winds, the red silk inside shimmering like flames with the full moon in the sky.
"You will start studying the Mind Arts in just a few days, so I'll show you what a mind looks like, before doing anything to your friend. I will lower the barrier, and you'll be able to see everything I see and do. Consider this a lesson, if you wish. If you don't want me to, then I will not. I don't really care. It is your gift."
Voldemort—Marvolo—explained with a slight smile, as Hermione almost jumped from joy.
He did underestimate!
"And …"
Hermione was interrupted when Voldemort took a step towards the Burrow.
"Nor will I not touch anyone in the house, not today. I will wake your friend, and then we'll be going to Paris, where the midnight awaits for us. You have my word."
If Voldemort promised something, he always did it, so Hermione nodded her head in understanding.
She was going to enter the Burrow with Lord fucking Voldemort to wake up Ron Weasley.
She was either fully insane now or she was clinging to something real so not to fall into the abyss.
She'd have to deal with the Weasley—and Harry—tomorrow, but Ron would be awake and alive.
It was worth it.
xxx
Ginny was sitting in the kitchen, holding her mug with tea, when the entrance door opened and someone walked in.
The mug smashed onto the floor when Ginny's disbelieving eyes met pale-blue eyes on the handsome face of the man—Voldemort!—and then with almost a heart attack, Ginny saw Hermione step in behind him.
Quick brown eyes took in quickly the clothing of both figures in front of her when she heard the voice she knew so well from the Chamber of Secrets.
"Ginny Weasley … all grown up, I see."
The eyes were now red, and with horror so strong that she couldn't breathe, Ginny saw her mom appear in the kitchen.
Molly's mouth opened to ask what was going on when Ginny saw her mom look into the flaming red eyes.
Molly's mouth opened in a silent scream as she realized just who came to visit when she was pushed with an invisible force onto the ceiling.
Ginny heard footsteps, and a second later, she saw all her brothers held onto the walls with invisible hands, not allowed to move or to talk.
"You'd said you wouldn't hurt them!"
Through her horror, Ginny heard Hermione's angry hiss and saw Hermione grab Voldemort's arm, not afraid of consequences.
Hermione knew Voldemort would come and she hadn't warned them? She was standing close to the Dark Lord and she still held his sleeve in her fist.
Was she insane?
"Is that what you call 'hurt', Hermione? I am keeping them immobile so that I wouldn't have to hurt them. Just like you asked."
He was calling Hermione by her name when Hermione herself had stated many times she was only "Miss Granger".
His voice sounded more tender and amused than she remembered from the Chamber, but it was still him.
Tom Marvolo Riddle— just as handsome and cruel as then— only a bit older.
This was a nightmare. What did Tom Riddle want here?
"You say that name again and I'll show you what I didn't back then, Ginevra."
Serious red eyes were now drilling holes in her, and Ginny felt her knees tremble.
Hermione winced a bit, and with a light nudge, she averted Voldemort's attention to herself.
"Could we please wake up Ron and leave?"
No, no, no!
Ginny wanted to scream that Hermione was insane if she thought Ginny would allow Voldemort to touch her brother's mind when those red eyes shone with promise of such pain that Ginny took a step back.
"Very well, lead the way," Voldemort said while gently touching Hermione's back with his hand, and the next second pale-blue eyes were trained on her.
"You're coming with us, Ginevra."
xxx
Hermione almost vomited from the tension and anticipation as the bone-white wand was now in Voldemort's right hand and the other was held palm up, inviting her to take it.
It was a quarter to eleven, which meant she had fifteen minutes until the French midnight. It was still Marvolo.
Slowly closing her fingers over the familiar hand, Hermione stepped closer to the Dark Lord as they stood near the comatose Ron with Ginny in the back corner, not able to move or talk but fully conscious; the terrified brown eyes watched every little detail.
"Now, I am going to lower the barrier, and you'll be able to see everything. It's a part of Legilimency that allows one to enter the minds of two people without interfering with one another."
Hermione nodded her numb head at understanding.
She had read about it before.
"Like described in the 'Mind Arts' by Maximilian Shell?" Hermione asked carefully—Voldemort was near the comatose Ron and all the Weasleys in the Burrow—and at the nod, she relaxed a bit.
Hermione almost fell onto the floor when the barrier disappeared, and her hand was now held in Voldemort's wand arm. "Legilimens!"
The power of the spell and Voldemort's incredible magic made Hermione press closer to the tall body.
The next second, she saw a landscape with thick, white fog, and Hermione understood that she was in Ron's mind.
As the barrier was down, she could feel everything Voldemort felt, and Hermione winced at the emotions and thoughts she could clearly read now.
The Dark Lord was disgusted at the mind he saw, and all the adjectives he had for Ron …
"What a pathetic, dumb pig."
Shut up, Hermione thought with pursed lips.
Ron wasn't a dumb, pathetic pig.
xxx
Shut up.
First it was "fuck you" and now "shut up".
Hermione was really in her element when he allowed her the freedom of speech and thought.
She was brave, very brave, and she wasn't a sheep.
Unlike the pig.
What an imbecile the boy was—it was incredible!
Not only was he stupid, but he was such a filthy pig with no manners and had such a low self-esteem that Voldemort thought for a second he entered a wrong mind.
Was this even human?
Such a pathetic mind, so weak, so simple …
And the redhead had such a lazy and disorganized mind, that Voldemort had to blink once to clear his own thoughts. It was one thing to see it through Hermione's —or Potter's—eyes but it was completely different when he saw it all himself.
He hated red hair— Dumbledore's beard hadn't always been grey, and Lily Potter was still fresh in his mind—and for a moment, he wondered if he should simply kill everyone with bright red hair when he felt a hesitant touch.
He was so absorbed in his own thoughts—there was nothing to look at in this imbecilic mind—that he didn't notice the Mudblood's presence until she nudged him lightly.
The nerve!
But, she still had ten minutes—he counted—and he let her. They still had a fun midnight ahead of them.
He saw the vague silhouette behind the fog— if that was a mental barrier then he was Dumbledore!— as Prince Charming arrived.
Well …
Talking about pigs …
At least they tasted good when cooked perfectly—if overcooked, it became tough like a piece of wood—but what did this creature do?
Voldemort couldn't find a quality that he liked even if he looked around with a torch.
A raging inferno would not be enough …
If he even stole the sun and pushed it here—into this trashbin called "a mind"— he wouldn't get enough light.
"Would you stop making fun of Ronald?"
She still had five minutes.
He kept his word, so with a mental sigh, Lord Voldemort lifted the fog—there was actually nothing to lift, the hog wasn't behind any serious barrier— and saw the pig in all its beauty.
The boar had torn trousers and a torn shirt on; the bright orange hair was dirty, just like the rest of him; and he looked so pathetic that Voldemort's wand vibrated for a second, itching to cast a Crucio.
How utterly disgusting …
"Ron!"
He heard the Mudblood's voice—two minutes—and he saw the schmuck look at them with wide, confused blue eyes from his awkwardly standing position—as if he was begging for some coins somewhere in a dirty alley instead of being in his own mind.
"Time to wake up, Prince Charming." The Dark Lord actually sneered at the stupid face.
The pig gaped at him and Voldemort closed the mindscape, finally leaving the pathetic mind behind.
He needed a shower after all the dirt he saw.
One minute and he'd refresh his ears with some exciting screams of the sixty Mudbloods who awaited their verdict tonight.
Now that would be interesting.
Looking at the happy Hermione who was now hugging the sitting pig, Voldemort smiled a bit.
Let her.
xxx
It was hard to concentrate on anything, as today she had had so many surprises, and as Hermione hugged Ron, she heard a clock from downstairs.
It was eleven o'clock here, and that meant it was already midnight in Paris.
Hermione released the crying Ron, promising him that she'd be back soon, looked at the shocked Ginny, and took a step towards Lord Voldemort, taking his outstretched hand.
He kept his word.
"Come, Hermione."
Last seconds of Marvolo, Hermione understood and looked into the pale-blue eyes before taking his outstretched un-gloved hand.
The next second, the flowing sensation took over her as Voldemort Apparated them away.
As Hermione opened her eyes and turned to Voldemort to say "thank you", things became like in a slow-motion movie to her. She saw the countless posts with hanging people on them; about twenty werewolves were showing their teeth from the ground, just below the hanging bodies; and the crowd was so big that Hermione had to swallow her panic.
There were at least a hundred Death Eaters here—if not more, she could only see the sea of bodies—and as Hermione's eyes saw Rabastan Lestrange bark something at the werewolf who was standing behind a thin magical barrier, she understood what Voldemort meant with a snack.
And she, like the idiot she was, had thought it would be only the two of them.
Hermione looked up to see the shining red irises and thought just how much she hated him now. He had it all planned and she hadn't even thought about it. What kind of monster was he?
"Careful, Miss Granger. It is after midnight. We don't want to ruin your pretty dress before the time, do we?"
It was after midnight and her Cinderella dream was over.
Marvolo was gone, and Lord Voldemort stood tall before a huge crowd, his black and red cloak billowing in the wind behind him, and he looked like the devil himself.
Hermione tried not to think about what would be happening to all the people who were hanging by their hands; whatever it would be, it would be horrible.
Just like Voldemort was.
Horrible.
xxx
a/n I haven't written the part about Voldemort visiting Burrow in details, as I think it will be better from several POVs than from the Dark Lord's…and the part about Voldemort remembering Ginny...If you didn't realize why he could remember something like this, you will soon.
Would you look at that…the Sleeping Beauty woke up! Time to get up and help me, Ronald! Ahaha…I have so much in store for you….
Thanks for reading! Waves!
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Two Steps From Hell