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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
- 17
- 18
- 19
Sorry for the delay. I’ve been in the hospital for five days and just came home late last night, thus I was too tired to do anything. I’m in a lot of pain and have taken a lot of painkillers but I’ll try to reply to all your wonderful reviews for last chapter during the day (which you'll find on http://theladymiya.tumblr.com/ ). Also, if anyone happens to have a healthy uterus and want to trade it for a shitty one, I’m looking for a trade. Because I’m so sick of tired of my uterus sending me to the hospital all the time.
Once again I need to thank Reverseuniverse and Queen V for betaing this chapter! Sending you all the kisses from kittens!
Enjoy!
Chapter 18
Dragons were bloody cry-babies. Voldemort gritted his teeth as he listened to yet another dragon complain about the change in hierarchy. It was time for a demonstration of power. If they didn’t accept him despite his victory over the last Mother Dragon, then they would accept him out of fear.
The dragon that was whining right now was an old male, easily two hundred years old. He had been one of the mates of the Mother Dragon, and Voldemort suspected he just missed the intercourse.
Well, now he wouldn’t have to miss anything.
Voldemort challenged the dragon to a duel. He couldn’t say it in words, like he was used to with Tolv and Elva, but he could easily explain the concept. Dragons had duels too.
He led the dragon out of the main cave they resided in. The dragons lived in caves in the mountains which were on the border between Norway and Sweden. It was a cold and miserable place. If it weren’t for his inner fire from consuming the essence of the Mother Dragon, Voldemort would probably have left just to save himself from the cold.
As it was now, he managed with just his cloak and the inner fire.
Outside, the sun has long since set and snow was dusting the landscape. At this time of year, the sun was only up for a couple of hours. The scarce amount of sunlight made this haven into an excellent dragon hiding spot. Few humans, may they be muggles or wizards, wanted to live here. The dragons could move around freely and feed on the plethora of reindeer and elk.
Another unexpected benefit of becoming Mother Dragon was that flying was much easier for Voldemort. Before, he was forced to focus his magic in order to stay up in the air. Now however, it was like he just had to extend his invisible wings. The muscles in his back kept him in the air more so than his magic. It was a peculiar feeling Nevertheless, it made it even easier to multitask. Like the duel with this intercourse starved dragon.
The duel commenced as the dragon opened fire in his direction. A fire that Voldemort easily collected into a sphere of magic before throwing it back at his challenger. Voldemort had the advantage in this fight: he was a lot smaller, making it harder to land a precise hit. The dragon, on the other hand, was easily three meters from wing to wing and Voldemort hit his left wing, making the dragon scream in pain.
However, the pain from the dragon resonated in Voldemort’s head in a very uncomfortable way. Since he was the protector of the herd, he felt the pain he inflicted on his own. Nevertheless, this had to be done for Voldemort to prove himself to the dragon. So he pushed the pain aside in order to strike again with his own internal fire.
It hit the dragon’s other wing. Without the ability to manoeuvre the winds, the creature fell from the sky, giving a last hopeless cry before crashing into the ground.
He was still alive, but he wouldn’t be flying anytime soon.
Exhaling in annoyance, Voldemort flew back down to the cave where the other dragons had been waiting.
“Go and take him to another cave, help him heal,” Voldemort ordered the two other adult dragons. His head was throbbing in pain. The pain would ease when the wounded dragon was taken care of. Thankfully, they obeyed him without argument.
Voldemort observed the other dragons. His herd had twenty members, the youngest being Elva and Tolv, and the oldest two-hundred and fifty years old. Normally, only the Mother Dragon could extend the family by giving birth to a new dragon nearly every twenty years. However, to be safe in his immortality, Voldemort would like to extend the herd. Being a wizard, he didn’t have to worry about things like overexertion which meant reducing the food supplies. He could easily import food for the dragons, and erect wards that would keep Muggles and wizards from their domain.
Of course, the problem was that he couldn’t physically give birth, or even mate with other dragons. He required another vessel for that purpose.
Over the last few days, he had considered his options on whether to use a female or a male vessel. Males could reproduce more often than females. But since there were only eight females in the herd to begin with, that wasn’t a deciding factor. Dragons have a hard time becoming pregnant and when they did, they carried the foetus for two years before it was time to lay the eggs which then had to be guarded for two more months.
“As you can see,” he said, facing the entire herd (minus the wounded one and the ones he had sent to help), “I will not stand for disobedience or whining. With that said, I will protect you better than your last Mother. I have powers she didn’t have and no other wizard will come and try to steal your young. I will make certain that you always have food. I will be with you forever. But you must obey me.”
He could hear the reluctance in the dragons’ minds. They were used to staying away from humans. Wizards hunted them down and skinned them for clothes, took their hearts for wands and stole their eggs for potions.
What they were coming to realise, however, was that he was so much more than any other wizard. He was bonded to dragons, and had the fire of a Mother Dragon inside him. They would obey him or die, it was as simple as that.
One by one, they laid down on the floor. Their eyes cast downwards as they showed their obedience. He smiled at them, mentally sending out his pleasure, and that they could continue with their daily happenings.
The dragons lived in different caves surrounding the main cave where Voldemort resided. He had transfigured a small passageway in it as his resting place. It was there that he went now, followed only by his shadows Tolv and Elva. They were the ones he trusted to stand guard.
“I will need to go back to Hogwarts soon,” he told them as he sat down in the armchair he had created. With a twist of his wrist, he conjured up a small ball of fire in his palm so that he could see properly. Even though he was gifted with lot more powers now, he didn’t have the eyesight of a dragon.
What about the herd? Tolv asked. They need their mother.
“You will be my vessel here, Tolv,” Voldemort answered. “You are an extension of myself, and you will be in charge of creating more dragons in my place.”
Tolv beamed in pride, his wings fluttering in excitement.
“What about me?” Elva asked, feeling left out.
Voldemort stroked her neck. “Isn’t it obvious? You will follow me back to Hogwarts as my guard.”
Like her brother, Elva’s wings began fluttering in excitement.
I will protect you with all my lives, Elva promised.
Voldemort smiled. “I know you will.”
And he did. Unlike his Death Eaters, he could trust his dragons as much as he could trust himself. They were no longer individuals, but an extension of him, and his will. Like his hand would act on instinct if something moved against his head, Elva and Told would react if something happened to him.
No human could ever be entrusted like that.
He stayed one more night with the dragons to make sure that they still remembered what happened to those who whined. When all his rules were made clear he decided it was time to leave. He had to make sure Hermione didn’t try anything in his absence. He also had a kiss to collect.
Saying goodbye for now to the dragons, he set off into the air together with Elva. He could feel Tolv’s sorrow for seeing his sister leave, thankfully he didn’t whine about it. Voldemort sighed, regardless. It wouldn’t be pleasant, having to feel the dragon’s emotions, whether they actively wanted to share them or not. However, Voldemort had a lot of practice with Occlumency and was certain he could manage to block them out.
When he landed at Hogwarts, it was early afternoon. A group of third years were outside, immersed in the Salamander lesson for the Care of Magical Creatures class.), The students gasped in awe when Elva landed.
He ignored them and told Elva to just do as she pleased for the rest of the day.
To the cheers of the students, Elva set off into the air again, ready to hunt down something to eat. However, not before she did some fancy loops in the air while relishing the children’s admiration.
He entered the castle, quite happy to be around the modern comforts of wizards again. He would need to find his Death Eaters to see if he had missed something. No one had tried to summon him while he was away. Then again, he had told them not to do so unless it was a matter of life or death (not theirs, but of someone important).
Wanting to check in on Hermione first, he stopped at the entrance hall and turned to one of the portraits.
“Is the Headmistress in her office?” he asked the painting of a witch from the 1700’s, who was residing in a throne hall filled with pine trees growing through the stone floor.
“Yes, she hasn’t left all morning,” the portrait responded. “She should make more of an effort to inspect her domain. A good ruler should…”
Voldemort wasn’t interested in hearing whatever it was that the portrait thought of a good ruler. He was already climbing the stairs up to Hermione’s office.
The students cluttering the corridors avoided looking at him as he passed. They knew who he was and had the decency to be scared by his mere presence. As they should. The moment he passed they began whispering to each other. It was a phenomenon that Voldemort was used to and thought little of it. As he walked up the spiral staircase, he could hear Hermione’s voice through the door. She seemed to be yelling at someone.
“... with no regards to the students who haven’t learnt a ‘simple shielding charm yet’. 50 points from Gryffindor on top of the points Professor McGonagall has already taken and while you are in detention, I want you to think about how it would have looked if it had been a younger student who had been caught in the crossfire and how hard it would have been to scrape their brains off the ceiling without magic!”
Voldemort opened the door, finding two terrified Gryffindor boys standing in front of the Headmistress desk with their head lowered.
Hermione looked as if she had been about to yell some more, but when she saw him she just sighed.
“Leave, now. Report to Mr Filch tonight at eight for your first detention,” she said, her voice cold as she dismissed them with an added gesture of her hand.
The two boys all but ran past Voldemort and down the staircase.
Hermione sank down in her chair, looking at him with narrowed eyes.
“So you’re back,” she said.
“Missed me?” he asked with a smile.
She shook her head. “No, but I didn’t think you’d be away for almost a week. I started to think that something had gone wrong with the magic you tried to do.”
“Of course nothing went wrong,” Voldemort said softly. “I created the enchantment.”
“Yes, I’d forgotten that you were bloody perfect,” Hermione muttered darkly.
He smiled as he strode around the desk, only to lean against it so that she had to turn her chair to look at him.
“Any problems in my absence?” he asked.
“Except the two boys who thought setting up explosions in an armchair on the third floor would be funny, it has all gone smoothly,” she responded, her eyes traveling over him thoughtfully. “You seem different.”
“Different?” he asked.
“Yes…,” she frowned. “You smell different too. A hint of sulphur?”
“I have the essence of the Mother Dragon inside me now. It wouldn’t be strange if it showed somehow on the outside,” he allowed. He hadn’t had any mirrors on the mountain and hadn’t bothered checking to see if he looked different.
“Yes, and your eyes have changed again,” she continued. “They are still dark brown, but it’s almost like they flicker in red and yellow. Is that the essence too?”
“I would imagine so,” he said, looking around before finding a mirror between two bookcases next to the wall. He went up to it and took in his reflection. The change was marginal, but yes, there was more fire in his eyes now. Here was physical proof of his immortality.
He went back over to her, feeling like celebrating. Come to think of it, she was looking a bit different now too. More alluring, somehow.
“You smell different too,” he realised, leaning down to sniff her hair. “Are you using a new shampoo?”
“No,” she said slowly, trying to pull back. “I use the same as everyone else at Hogwarts.”
It must be her, then, Voldemort realised. The dragon inside her made him experience some things in a new way. He didn’t know what it meant that just Hermione was the one he thought smelt good, but it was better than if she had smelt bad.
Ignoring it for now, he merely shrugged and leant back.
“I have some meetings to attend to,” he said. “I will be back tonight.”
“Fine, I’ll see you then,” she said, already turning back to her desk again.
Using her fireplace, he went to Malfoy Manor where he would find the news about the ongoings in the Ministry.
As always, Bella was the one to greet him first. Sometimes, he suspected that she was always waiting for him to arrive, either from the fireplace or through the door, and had set up some sort of warning system so that she could come running before anyone else.
“Master,” she cried, throwing herself on the floor and kissing the hem of his cloak.
“Get up, Bella,” he said, not having time for her dramatics. “Where is Rockwood?”
“He is at the Ministry, my Lord,” Bella said, getting back onto her feet, staring at him in a way that suggested she would very much like to devour him.
It disgusted him, he realised. She was also smelling different now. Foul, like wet compost or decaying food that had been left outside for too long.
“Go and get him then,” he said, wanting her to leave sooner rather than later.
She looked hurt, but she seldom dared to question his orders, and she quickly left the room.
What was going on with his sense of smell? He hadn’t noticed anything different while with the dragons. Yet, it had to be something with his latest transformation.
When Rockwood entered the room, Voldemort took the opportunity to smell him too. There was something different about Rockwood’s sense as well, but it wasn’t as pungent as with Bella or Hermione. It was more like an undertone of tulips that were about to die. Yet, if he weren’t focusing on the smell, it didn’t bother him at all.
“How are things at the Ministry, Rockwood?” Voldemort asked, showing Rockwood to sit down in the lounging area by the fireplace.
Rockwood sat stiffly at the edge of the sofa, back held straight, as always.
“Good, my Lord. Things are progressing splendidly. We have secured a new connection with the Magical Parliament of Russia. They will begin trading with us again as now when they see that we are still … friendly.”
Voldemort chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you Miss Granger would suit our interests on the continent?”
“Yes, it has indeed quieted down their complaints about the registrations of Mudblood,” Rockwood admitted. “However…”
Voldemort rolled his eyes. Death Eaters were always so reluctant to reveal bad news. Did he really torture the messenger that often? No, he did not. If the Death Eater were tortured it was because the bad news was their fault, not for telling him about it. He wanted to know about their missteps so he could adjust and fix them.
“What have you heard, Rockwood?” Voldemort asked.
“There is a rumour flying around the Ministry,” Rockwood said slowly. “We have tried to locate the source, but it appears as if everyone is simply talking about it at the same time…”
He hesitated again, refusing to meet Voldemort’s eyes. Instead he was letting them wander over the quiet paintings on the wall.
“Yes?”
“People are talking about your blood-status,” Rockwood finally said in a low voice.
“What?” Voldemort hissed, flying up from his seat.
Rockwood flinched. “Apparently someone thought you looked very familiar to someone they had known in their youth, an orphan half-blood. But of course, we all know you to be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, there is no purer blood than the kind in your veins.”
Voldemort’s wand hand was itching, but he kept the impulse at bay. Just by chance, someone had recognized him from when he was young and just happened to remember that he was a half-blood? No, impossible. People were too stupid for that. They only knew what they were told.
This was someone taking advantage of the fact that his appearance had changed. This was the work of the Order and Harry Potter.
Harry Potter had always wanted to scream out that Voldemort was half-blood. He tried to tell Bella and the others that in the Ministry some years back. And Dumbledore had known about his parents and most likely told Potter.
Had Potter found pictures of his younger self? Was he spreading it around?
But why? Just to annoy him? It didn’t matter what people gossiped about as his power was undeniable. His control was unthreatened. This was just an attempt to ridicule him. Perhaps they were trying to lead Voldemort into a trap.
He couldn’t let them see that it bothered him. It was just gossip, nothing that could harm him. With his new powers, very little could.
“They’ll find something else to gossip about,” Voldemort finally said. “Tell the others to merely laugh at the absurdity of the statement.”
“Very good, my Lord,” Rockwood said, relaxing just a little as he stood up to leave.
Voldemort dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Rockwood bowed before exiting.
When he had left, Voldemort started to think about what other rumour he could spread. It had to be something that would upset Potter, and also be interesting enough that people would spread it.
Could he use Hermione in some way? No, not yet. They were already married and happily so as far as the public knew. He would have to use someone else that was close to Potter.
Like his ex-girlfriend. Yes, Ginny Weasley. She was famous enough that the public would be interested in knowing what happened to the last love of Harry Potter. True, they had broken up. But what if Ginny Weasley were found having taken comfort in the arms of one of Potter’s enemies? And a teacher at that?
Yes, forbidden love. The public loved things like that. It was what had worked so well for him and Hermione.In this case, a relationship between a teacher and a student was even more scandalous.
Of course, Voldemort had promised that none of the students at Hogwarts would be hurt. But Voldemort didn’t plan on hurting the Weasley girl, quite the opposite. The girl would enjoy herself immensely.
The plan was already unfolding in his mind as he went back to Hogwarts – but this time not through the fireplace. He didn’t want Hermione to question why he was back so soon. First, He needed to speak with Draco Malfoy.
He flew back, landing just by the gates. It was almost dinner time in the castle, and Voldemort hoped he could find the Malfoy boy before that.
Luck was with him. When he came to the boy’s office, he was just packing up after the last lesson of the day. It seemed to have been a demonstration: there was yellow slime on the walls and some benches which Voldemort recognised being from a Hollyrat which spat out itching slime at unsuspecting wizards. Since it was fairly common, it helped wizards to know the banishing spell at heart as well as how to get rid of the itching slime.
“My Lord,” Malfoy said, clearly surprised to see him there. He quickly bowed to him. “What can I do for you?”
Voldemort contemplated his words. Draco wouldn’t be the one to spread the gossip about his affair with the Weasley girl, and thus, Voldemort wanted him to be just as surprised when they were found out as the girl would be.
“I was wondering how you were doing,” Voldemort said instead. “Are the students behaving?”
“Yes, my Lord, after seeing my duel, they are very eager for me to teach them,” Malfoy said, his chest puffed in pride.
“I don’t doubt it, you are skilled, Draco,” Voldemort allowed.
Malfoy’s chest puffed even more. “Thank you, my Lord.”
“But it must still be strange for you to teach students that are just a year younger than you,” Voldemort continued, clearing a bench from slime so he could lean against it.
“I admit, it is a bit peculiar, but they too have mostly accepted me by now,” Malfoy allowed.
“Even your ex-girlfriend, Miss Hardook?” Voldemort asked airily.
Malfoy’s eyes widened in shock. “Er, yes, well, we were only going out for a couple of months last year, and it didn’t last so…”
He trailed off, looking far more nervous. “I see,” Voldemort said softly, inspecting his fingernail. “So there is no other student you would have considered dating, had the situation been different?”
Malfoy’s cheek turned slightly pink. “It’s against the rules for students and teachers to date.”
“What if I were to tell you to make an exception for just one night with one particular student?”
Malfoy swallowed. “I will, of course, follow your orders, my Lord.”
Voldemort smiled. “Yes, you are a good boy, Draco. A student will come by here later tonight, begging you to take her. Make sure that you do.”
Malfoy swallowed again, but nodded. “She won’t be underage, will she?”
“Would it matter?”
Malfoy’s eyes widened. “N-no, of course not, my Lord. I will follow your orders.”
Voldemort chuckled. “Good. But she is of age, so you needn’t worry.”
He walked up to Draco, before trailing his hand into his hair and pulling out a few stray strands of white blond hair. Draco winced just slightly.
“Make sure you are available all night, Draco,” Voldemort said before leaving the office.
He would need to prepare the potion. Luckily, it was easy to buy a potent lust potion these days. He just needed to put Malfoy’s hair in it and then administer it to Miss Weasley. He would make sure it was in her evening drink. The house-elves wouldn’t dare to question his orders.
Once that was done, he would need to send another letter to Rockwood. It was time to implement a new law that they had been discussing.
- 17
- 18
- 19
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The Dragon Chronicles