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Serpentine Series	By : HarmonyB Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 12060 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN REGARDS TO THE HARRY POTTER FANDOM NOR DO I MAKE MONEY OFF OF THIS STORY.

Chapter List
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Harmony appeared to have caught a cold while they were out on their mission. She woke the next morning in bed barely able to breathe through her nose. But she said nothing about it as she sat up and secured her face scarf; she knew the damned material over her nose and mouth wasn't going to make breathing with a cold any easier.
She'd averted her gaze when Master left the bed to put on a change of clothes. She pulled on her boots, staring to feel the pressure in her head from her sinuses. When he was ready to go, they left. As they walked together down to the lesson hall, she wondered if she'd have the time or resources to put together a potion to help with her symptoms.
In the lesson hall, Harmony was just about to Apparate for the first time to warm up when her concentration was broken by a big, loud, and painful sneeze. "Oh, damn!" she said in a nasally voice.
"You're ill," he said rather sourly as he produced a green silk handkerchief from the air and brought it to her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to be a bother," she said as she stood taut again, ready to continue.
"You being sick is the least of your bothers," he said as he took her elbow and tried to draw her out of her pose. Harmony didn't move. "Come now, you're going to be impossible until you feel better. You will return to bed for the time being, until I say otherwise." In a threatening tone, he added, "Are you going to cooperate, or must I just pick you up and carry you again?"
"No!" she burst out, and blushed when he chuckled. "What's so funny?"
"You," he said with a smirk and drew up close to her. "You know full well that if I'd wanted to do it, you would never be able to stop me. And yet you still try to save your pride."
"I'm not being proud," she protested hotly and tried drawing herself up to her full height. He seemed so much taller than her; it added to his menacing demeanor. When she coughed violently, though, it kind of spoiled the effect she'd been going for.
"Then why don't you go back to bed?" he asked in a velvety voice, as though he was trying to tempt her.
"Because," she hedged. "I need to practice. I can't—I never miss a lesson. I have so much to improve upon, so much work to do. I …" her voice trailed off as he stared at her with those piercing blue eyes of his. She knew he could see right through her weak protest. Not catching up on her lessons was really only half the problem. Really, she just didn't want to go back to bed in case he'd want to spend the whole day in bed with her. She had no idea how she was supposed to pretend indifference for an entire day.
As though he could read her thoughts, he said, "I'll let you sleep. I have other things to do—albeit less important—but still." He was still grasping her elbow and tugging gently.
Harmony relaxed, but she did not move from where she stood.
"I bet I could even find a book for you to read," he added almost mockingly. "Now I know you can't resist that, can you? You little bookworm."
Harmony gritted her teeth. She didn't like how he knew her so well, knew her weaknesses. She stepped toward him, and he turned toward the back doors, bringing her with him through his private rooms to take her back upstairs.
"You can have your book after you get some more sleep first," he said as they entered his bedroom. He threw back the covers and watched as she pulled her boots off again and lay back down in bed. He leaned over her once she was tucked in, and he brought a pale hand up to her forehead. His skin felt icy cold. "You're hot," he said.
Harmony tried not to laugh at the words. It was strange to feel the sudden delight bubbling up inside her. My sickness must be making me delirious, she insisted as she closed her eyes and snuggled down into the covers. She was starting to like the prospect of finally having some time to be alone.
He stood and watched over her for a moment with deep solemnness on his face. Until finally: "Maybe I could use a nap after all."
Harmony mentally groaned as he went to his side of the bed and lay down beside her. As she began to drift off, she wondered if when he'd said "I have other things to do" had been the truth.
Harmony woke with a start when she heard the voice of Lord Voldemort whispering in her ear.
"Dinner's here."
She peeked over the covers to see the sun setting outside the window.
"You let me sleep all day?" she complained, and found that her throat was so sore she could barely get out the words.
"Apparently you needed it."
The food on the table looked inviting as Voldemort led her to it. They ate together in companionable silence, and at one point their feet accidentally touched under the table. Their eyes met briefly.
"Take a hot shower once we're finished," he said. "The steam will help you breathe better. I will have someone find you something more suitable to wear for the night, so you can have that outfit washed. It's all you've worn since you've been here."
Harmony nodded, unable to answer past the lump in her throat.
This. She would've never expected this. It was like he was concerned for her, like he actually cared about someone other than himself. She could imagine this was as "nice" as he could ever become and it almost made her feel guilty for being what she was—Dumbledore's spy. The very thing he'd convinced himself she was not.
But really, she defended herself, I haven't done much in the way of spying so far. She could hardly even think how she was of any use to Dumbledore anymore, after all that had happened since she'd first come here. All she had done was become far too close to a murderer who she was supposed to hate with all her being.
After dinner, Harmony took her time in the shower by letting the heat seep into her cold bones. Her snake charm seemed to be enjoying the shower, too. It danced around on her skin as though basking in the heat emanating beneath it. With one finger, she followed its trail, making a soapy trace on her skin. The black snake tattoo paused like a real snake would when being petted. Harmony smiled a little. The longer she had the charm, the more she's come to realize that not only was it an extension of her Master, but that it had a bit of a personality of its own, as well.
At times, it was like Master's mind entered the snake charm—as though he was the snake charm. For example, at that very moment, she knew right when Voldemort's personality interceded: the movements of the snake became much more languid—gentle strokes rather than a playful dance. The tail-end coiled on around her bellybutton while the head snuck up to rest between her breasts. It frightened her to think that he could feel her with his mind, all the while waiting in the other room. It wasn't that she felt violated; just helpless in knowing she couldn't stop him from doing what he was doing.
She quickly rinsed off and left the shower. After drying her hair, she wrapped the towel around her body and picked up her dirty black clothes. She peeked out of the door into the bedroom; Master was standing near the fire, just as expected. She saw some clothes waiting for her in the chair. She quickly drew back inside the bathroom to throw on her face scarf.
Already starting to shiver, she came out and approached the hearth. He looked over at her and his eyes flickered down to her towel. She swallowed, clutching her dirty clothes to her chest. He jerked his head to the couch and she dumped her belongings there. He picked up the clean clothes—a pair of pale green cotton pajamas—and held them out for her. Liberating one hand from holding up her towel, she took them, but he hesitated before releasing his end. She looked up at him, but his eyes were below her face. Her chest and shoulders glistened in the light of the fire, and although she was in close proximity to the hearth, goose-bumps rose up on her skin. Free from concealment of her heavy black clothes, the leanness in her arms showed a strength that was unexpected.
Harmony tugged the clean clothes free from his hand and quickly returned to the bathroom to dress. The pajamas were too big and square for her body. They obviously belonged to man.
Back in the bedroom, she sat on the couch in front of the fire. He came and sat down beside her, surprising Harmony greatly. Normally he preferred the comfort and isolation of his own chair. He eased back onto the cushions and his knee rested against hers. She stared down at them with a peculiar twisting in her belly.
"You look…contented," he said hesitantly.
"I don't doubt it," she replied, and rolled her eyes at the loose bottoms that pooled down around her feet. He pulled up one of the legs until he could see her toes. She almost protested, moving away. But he dropped it and backed off before she could.
"They're about a foot too long, I'd say," he pronounced as if he'd been conducting an experiment.
Harmony coughed, and covered her mouth over top of the scarf. She felt Voldemort watching her. When she looked over at him, his eyes were on the black material covering half her face. His upper lip curled in discontent.
"Why don't you take that off," he said, though his tone suggested he had half a mind to just tear it off her face then and there. "I must be difficult to breath, especially with your illness."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, looking into the fire. "The shower helped, anyway, as you said it would. I can breathe just fine."
Harmony could feel the uneasiness tainting the air at her refusal. She wondered if he really cared about her breathing, or if he just wanted to see what exactly resided beneath the scarf. She knew he always got what he wanted, so if he wanted it bad enough, would he force her to reveal her face to him? She wouldn't be able to fight him; she'd have to do it or he'd do it for her.
But he said nothing more about it. He simply pursed his lips and turned his face away as his mind became preoccupied with other thoughts.
To ease the frostiness between them, she said, pointing to the pajamas, "Yours, I presume?"
"Indeed," he said.
"They're very comfortable," she said. "I suppose you would buy only the best quality."
"They were a gift actually," he said and she was relieved to hear the composure in his voice. "One of my followers stole it off a wealthy wizard some months back. He was being interrogated for the whereabouts of an Opal necklace he was rumored to possess. He was rather fond of the jewelry; as I recall he put up quite a fight. I believe that's an old bloodstain there." He pointed to a small rusty-brown blotch on her thigh.
Harmony recoiled in disgust. "These were stolen off a dead man!?"
He looked at her with uncertainty. "Well, they were cleaned before I'd received them."
"But still…" She scratched at the bloodstain with her fingernail.
"Would you still sleep in them?" he asked.
"As opposed to—"
"—sleeping without them."
"You mean completely stripped."
"It's how I prefer to sleep."
She shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Erm, no, I'm fine. Like you said, er, you had them cleaned."
"Very well."
Harmony sighed and quickly changed the subject. "So I believe you promised me a book."
He went over and scanned the shelf. He picked out two books, one for himself. This time he sat in his own chair, and Harmony breathed a sigh of relief as she opened The Tales of Beedle the Bard with a grateful smile.
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Serpentine Series