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

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Hello everyone! It’s been another two weeks and here we are again with a new chapter! This time I have to give extra extra extra thanks to Ozzy for taking the time to beta even tho she is so busy with school and life. Not unlike me right now. I have got another, original writing project going on which takes up a lot of my energy. It’s really fun though! I do think I’ll be able to keep updating every two weeks. The story does have a first draft so it’s only the editing and betaing that takes time.
Either way, I love all your nice and fun reviews! Review replies can be found on my tumblr-page: http://theladymiya.tumblr.com/
Enjoy!
Chapter 16
She was being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange again. She was screaming in pain as the Cruciatus Curse made every single nerve cell in her body burn. But she wasn’t alone. No, Harry was being tortured by Voldemort just next to her. Voldemort had a big, jagged knife and he was cutting off limbs piece by piece. The blood was flowing across the floor and Hermione could feel it splash onto her arm and cheek.
Ron was already dead, his body hanging upside down as Fenrir was devouring it, head first. Half the head was already chewed off, and she could see the skull underneath.
She was screaming again, but no one could hear.
Hermione.
She knew without a doubt that no one would come and save them. There was no one left. Voldemort would win and she would see all her friends die until she finally joined them. She wished she could have died first, but she knew she would have to watch the deaths of everyone she had ever known, before she could finally leave this painful existence.
Hermione!
There was a small opening in the ceiling, Hermione suddenly realised. For a moment, the pain stopped as she saw an eye through it.
Hermione wake up!
It was Kara, she realised. But that was wrong. She didn’t know Kara yet.
You are dreaming, Kara told her.
Dreaming? Could all this be a dream?
She turned her head towards Harry. He no longer had any legs or arms, but he was still screaming in pain.
You were cursed, Kara told her. The bad one said he would help.
Help? Was there help still to get? Who would help her?
Her vision was getting fuzzy. Or was it the room that was getting unclear around the edges? She couldn’t make out Ron’s body anymore. Harry’s scream sounded as if it came from far away.
Kara? she called out.
But there was no one there anymore. She wasn’t there anymore. The dream had disappeared. Or had she finally died?
She realised that she didn’t care one way or another. There was only blissful silence around her. Her body wasn’t there anymore, wasn’t hurting. Only white light.
xxx
The first thing she noticed was the sound of a drum. A slow, steady beat, right under her left ear. The ear that was pressed against something hard and warm.
She was listening to someone’s heartbeat, she realised. Her body wasn’t hurting. It had been a dream.
Something wet was running down from her eyes, gathering in a pool underneath the cheek that was pressed against someone else’s body. She was crying. Crying in relief.
It had all been a dream.
Someone was stroking her hair softly.
Hermione? Kara’s voice was in her mind again.
Kara, she said, through their mental link. She could feel that he was too far away to hear her speak out loud.
Are you okay? he asked, his mental voice sounded worried.
Yes, I think so. Where am I?
The evil one took you inside the castle. He said he would help you.
The evil one?
Hermione opened her eyes. She was in her bed in the Headmistress’s chambers in the castle. She could see the dark sky through the window next to the bed. It was night.
“What happened?” she found herself asking, her voice hoarse.
“You were cursed,” Voldemort responded softly, his voice vibrating in his chest and her body.
She slowly sat up, stroking away her tears with the back of her hand.
“Why would someone curse me?” she asked, turning to look at him.
Voldemort was half-sitting against the headboard, his chest naked. Had he been holding her in her sleep?
“Someone who thought you were a Mudblood whore,” Voldemort said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
She frowned as her mind worked. “I thought you had told your Death Eaters not to harm me.”
“It wasn’t any of my Death Eaters that cursed you,” he responded, his voice suddenly hard.
“Who was it?”
“I haven’t caught him yet, but I will, soon. No one can hurt what is mine,” he said in a dark tone.
Hermione frowned again. If she was being called a Mudblood than it was definitely someone from his side that had cursed her. But why call her a whore?
“What curse did they use?” she asked.
“The Nightmare Curse,” Voldemort answered. “But it was a sloppy one. Once I managed to get you some Dreamless Sleeping Potion, you were fine.”
“Oh.” Someone had tried to kill her. Because she knew, that curse was deadly if you didn’t get treated.
“What did you dream?” Voldemort asked.
“I was being tortured,” she answered, her mind working hard. She was missing something. “Harry and I were being tortured. Ron was already dead.”
“Interesting,” he hummed.
“Have you been here with me all night?” she asked, frowning. It didn’t seem like him to just sit there and comfort someone.
“More or less. I needed to make sure the potion was working. I do not want to see you die. At least not by someone else’s hand,” he replied with a smile. “Are you hungry? You missed dinner.”
She nodded, and he summoned an elf, which came with a tray of soup and toast. She ate in silence, still sitting in the bed, her brain working. She was starting to realise something. Something she probably should have seen before, but she had been too busy with the school and all.
When she was finished with the food, she felt her eyelids getting heavy.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Quarter past three,” Voldemort responded.
“I guess we should try to sleep some more then,” she said, already lying back down in the bed.
“We might as well,” he answered. He had been constantly looking at her since she had woken up. Hermione wasn’t certain why. Was he really that worried about her?
Voldemort extinguished the light with a wave of his wand and they lay there in silence. Just as she was falling asleep again, she remembered what had happened that morning, how they had snogged heavily.
She didn’t have the energy to worry about that now, though. He wasn’t trying to touch her again, but lay with his back turned against her. So he had told the truth when he said he was only going to make her kiss him once for every Hogsmeade outing.
That was important information too. He was bargaining with her. He wanted something more from her, and he was ready to accept her wishes to do it.
A plan had formed in her mind. A plan which could make them win the war. She fell asleep again, with a smile on her lips.
The next morning, Hermione was pacing her office, waiting for McGonagall to come for a meeting. They usually didn’t have to meet on a Sunday, but Hermione had scheduled the meeting earlier that week to get a report on how the Hogsmeade trip had gone for the students.
Hermione didn’t want Voldemort to suspect that there was something else going on in the meeting, and thus, she had to wait until McGonagall showed up at ten o’clock. She couldn’t rush to her old teacher and tell her the plan she had come up with.
“Good morning, Hermione,” McGonagall greeted her.
“Good morning, Minerva,” Hermione responded. “How did it go yesterday?”
“Very well. The students and parents seemed very happy to meet. As far as I could tell, there was no trouble at all and the only things the children brought back to the castle were homemade snacks, school supplies and some new clothes. Hardly anything that could be dangerous.”
“Excellent,” Hermione said, relieved. “And the Death Eaters didn’t interfere?”
“No. They only inspected some of the packages the students got, but as far as I could tell, they didn’t confiscate anything.”
Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She had been worried that some student would try to bring something dangerous into the school, Voldemort would see it as a reason to forbid any future outings.
“That’s great. Oh, and now that you are here, I was wondering if we could take the opportunity to check the wards around Hogwarts?” Hermione asked. “I have only done it once, and I read that according to Hogwarts’ safety protocol, it should be done monthly.”
If McGonagall knew that this wasn’t the case, she didn’t show it.
“Yes, we may as well. I don’t have anything pressing to deal with this morning.”
The only reason why Hermione had used this as an excuse to get out of her office was that she didn’t want to risk being overheard. Voldemort must have put some surveillance in her office and what she wanted to talk to McGonagall about was too important to be overheard. Inspecting the wards could only be done on the outside of the school property, and there Hermione didn’t think they could be overheard.
Once outside, Hermione made a show of testing the wards before she started talking to McGonagall again.
“Someone tried to kill me yesterday,” she said.
“Who?” McGonagall asked, her voice full of concern.
“I’m not certain, but it doesn’t matter much, I’m fine now. My husband healed me,” Hermione promised. “But it got me thinking: the Death Eaters can’t be happy that he has chosen a Mudblood as the Headmistress of the school.”
“They didn’t protest when you were married, I heard,” McGonagall injected.
“No, but that was because it was obvious that he only did it to lure out Harry. And he did capture him. But then I return and break Harry out and he makes me Headmistress? They can’t understand his reasoning there. They must hate that a mere Mudblood has such an important position. And he lives with me too? No self-respecting ‘pureblood’ would live with a Mudblood these days.”
“But he isn’t a pureblood,” McGonagall commented in a low voice. She seemed to have realised the need for secrecy in this conversation.
“They don’t know that. At least they didn’t. Before, there was no proof of that, but now he looks like he did when he was younger, correct?”
McGonagall nodded. “We went to school together. He looks older than that, of course, but as far as I remember, it’s the same look.”
“Exactly. And according to Harry, Dumbledore said that he looks like his Muggle father! Imagine what the Death Eaters would say if they found out about Tom Riddle Senior.”
“They would start to question him,” McGonagall said, nodding.
“Yes,” Hermione said, nodding in excitement. “I have no idea about how to kill him right now. But to win this war, maybe we don’t have to – not at first anyway – we can start by destroying his reputation. Make the Death Eaters turn against him! Without him as their leader, they will be in disarray, turning into factions. It will be easier to overpower them.
“They will also question his bond with the dragons. Merlin himself said that it was too dangerous for wizards to be bonded with dragons, but what if we could turn that into something else? They already believe that Mudbloods steal magic from other wizards, but what if we can make them believe that I’ve got my magic from bonding with a dragon? We can make them question whether his magic is really his own.”
“But how?” McGonagall asked.
Hermione smiled broadly. “Gossip. If we get the rumours to start spreading over Hogwarts, then it will spread to the rest of the wizarding world like Fiendfyre. I want you to talk to Ginny about this too. If I ask to speak to her alone and then the gossip starts, I’m certain Voldemort will find a way to question her about it. You are the one in charge of the Prefects, though. Ask to speak to her in regards to some schedule conflict or something. Though, don’t do it in your office, but somewhere else, where he can’t listen. Maybe the Room of Requirement. Ginny will know how to start the gossip among the students.
“Then you have to ready the other members of the Order. Once the Death Eaters start to rebel against him, we have to be ready to strike and take back the Ministry.”
“But what about you?” McGonagall asked. “Once the gossip reaches him, he might just kill you as a statement, that he doesn’t like Muggleborns.”
Hermione bit her lip, she had considered it as well. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Hopefully, by then, it will be too late. He won’t be able to kill his dragons, regardless, so just spread the rumour that he must have had dragons before, and it’s only now when he thinks that he has won that he dares to show them in public.”
McGonagall beamed at her. “I cannot tell you how proud I am of you, Hermione. Your bravery is that of a true Gryffindor.”
Hermione blushed under her praise. “Let’s just hope I’m not putting too much faith in the Hogwarts’ gossip machine.”
McGonagall smiled warily. “Oh, I think both you and I know how effective it is.”
Hermione smiled. Now she only had one thing left to do. She asked McGonagall to be on the look-out and not listen in to what she was about to say. It was for McGonagall’s safety as much as anything. If McGonagall was interrogated, she couldn’t give up information she didn’t have.
“Dobby,” Hermione said, ordering the House-elf to her.
With a small pop Dobby appeared, clad in a white pillow case.
“Dobby is happy to be called by the Headmistress,” Dobby piped in a whisper. “Harry Potter has asked about Headmistress.”
“You can tell them that I’m fine,” Hermione said. “But I don’t have long, Dobby, so listen. I have a plan on how to take down the Dark Lord. Tell Harry and Ron to stay safe. See if they can find anyone else in the Order, take them somewhere safe and wait there. When the time comes to strike, they’ll know. If anything happens to me, Minerva McGonagall will take over. Have you got it all?”
Dobby nodded frantically. “Dobby will tell Harry Potter exactly what Headmistress said. But Harry Potter is worried about Headmistress and his other friends at Hogwarts.”
“You can tell them that we are all fine. Ginny is fine and Fred and George are fine too. Oh, but tell them that they can’t go to see the twins, there are Death Eaters keeping an eye on their every step. Now go before someone sees you. And make sure Harry doesn’t do anything reckless!”
“Dobby will try his best,” Dobby promised, before disappearing with another pop.
xxx
Voldemort didn’t know it, but just like his wife, he was pacing impatiently, waiting for someone to arrive. In this case, Antonin Dolohov. He had ordered the Death Eater to find the one that had cursed Hermione and bring that person to him. He wanted to kill the perpetrator himself.
It had already been three hours by the time Dolohov finally returned, dragging a middle-aged man.
“Who is this?” Voldemort asked coldly.
“Mr. Frinkleberry, my Lord,” Dolohov said, throwing the man at Voldemort’s feet.
The man had been tortured. There was blood running down the side of his face from a wound on his forehead. His brown hair had turned dark with blood.
“Now, why did you curse Hermione Granger?” Voldemort asked, tilting his wand to magically flip the man onto his back.
“She is a Mudblood whore,” the man wailed. “I don’t want her poisoning my children’s minds with her Mudblood views!”
Voldemort regarded him coldly. “Do you think I would allow that?”
The man didn’t answer, instead just stared at him with eyes wide in fear.
“No one may touch what is mine,” Voldemort continued. “Avada Kedavra.”
The man’s eyes turned blank, dead. Voldemort vanished the body with another flick of his wand. Stupid man, did he not realise that Voldemort was in charge? Did he really think that a mere girl could change things? Hermione was a figurehead, just like the Minister of Magic. Voldemort was the one with the real power.
The world was better without such foolish men.
Voldemort didn’t question his own superiority. He had his reasons for keeping Hermione and in his arrogance, he didn’t think anyone would dare question him. He expected everyone to blindly follow his orders and trust that he knew best.
Thus, he didn’t care about Dolohov’s small frown as he bowed to leave his master. He didn’t bother to question Dolohov about what the man had said as he was brought in. And Dolohov wasn’t stupid enough to voluntarily tell Lord Voldemort that someone thought the Dark Lord could be manipulated by the bedroom acts of a Mudblood.
Instead, Voldemort went to visit his dragons, not in the least bit aware that his world had just started to crumble.
- 15
- 16
- 17
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The Dragon Chronicles