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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
- 23
- 24
- 25
a/n Hi!
There is a bigger a/n at the end of the chapter.
This chapter is not as big as the last one, but for me, it's very important. Voldemort is such an amazing character to write, and I love showing his POV, so in this chapter, his POV is the main one, and not Hermione's. Hermione's POV will be in the next one :)
Thank you for the amazing reviews! I really love your feedback, and it makes me happy- as a writer- to know that what I do with my time is appreciated.
Relatela- thank you! You'll find out what Voldemort had told Hermione in this chapter. I hope you'll like it XD
Sherlocked17- painful to read? I have to make some chapters heavy on dialogue and concrete things, like with the court. I am trying to balance dark themes, details and humor, and sometimes it can go to one direction before turning around and moving into another one :) And the world they live in is dark, so for those who had been on the other side of the barricade, it wouldn't be nice, I think. DE's were sent to Azkaban in packs when Voldemort had dissapered, so I am being fare ;) I hope you'll like this chapter!
Kelli- thank you so much! I am stoned my Voldemort is likable :) I like George, so I am being merciful to him ;)
M0nt- a Law Graduate! Then the court scene was exactly for you XD I absolutely agree with you on Draco. He is so sheltered by parents, and he really needs to grow up. But, then again, I do need a character to show immaturity from time to time. Each POV has their own character, and i find Draco amusing. But you'll see him change in the later chapters. Innocence is not only for the "light side", is it? Thank you again, and you'll see how right you've been about Bella :)
Tori- wow! XD Thank your for such a lenghty analysis! I loved it! Yes, my writing style is not the typical one, and I change it from POV to POV, as Voldemort cannot think like Draco, or Ron :) Hermione did not have a chance to fly up yet, and while she's smart, she's nowhere near Voldemort's cunningness at the moment. She needs to find her path, and she needs time. I don't like weak women, so no worries about Hermione just going insane, or give up. Harry is a diffucult character to write, as we know his POV from the books- unlike with the others- and I hope I manage to keep him somewhat in character. I love Lucius, so thank you! And Bella...I like her a lort, and her POV is wonderful for going over the top with drooling at Voldemort XD
I'm quick, but I need pauses. Once a week?
The biggest thank you to Serpent In Red.
All mistakes you may find are mine.
Beta: Serpet In Red
xxx
Two Steps From Hell
xxx
Horcrux Mine
Chapter Twenty Four
"Who is the whale?"
Dolohov's nasal voice filled his ears, and Lucius wanted to smack him.
Was he slow on purpose?
"Who do you think? Molly Weasley."
If there was one Death Eater who managed to almost always get on his nerves, it was Antonin Dolohov.
He wasn't a complete idiot, and he was an accomplished Dueling Master. However, it didn't matter what Dolohov had been before Azkaban. He had been sentenced to a lifetime for the brutal murder of Fabian and Gideon Prewett and spent thirteen years there, in the company of totally insane Rodolphus and the not-there Bellatrix. The only one "sane" cellmate had been Rabastan Lestrange.
Weirdos surrounded him, and Lucius shuddered at the thought that he himself was the sanest of them all.
Dolohov wasn't that bad but just rubbed him the wrong way, and Lucius had to hold himself from losing his temper again. Lately, it had become more difficult to hold his emotions in grip, and he knew he needed a break.
He had no idea who would be dealing with the Italian Ministry as Lucius already had the French and the British Ministries, Gringotts, the financial market, and the black market …
He felt like a horse sometimes.
He was a workaholic, and he couldn't just sit home and watch the magnificent garden with purple flamingos.
Must remember to contact the seller of the new pair.
They were beautiful.
Lucius shook his head lightly to chase away the crazy thoughts and straightened his silky hair that was tied with a black ribbon.
He needed a vacation. Urgently.
That schmuck Weasley couldn't have chosen a worse time. Italy was just around the corner, and he needed to be fit both mentally and physically.
He needed a spa day.
And a massage.
He needed to sleep on lavender-smelling pillows and dream happy dreams.
"Will we press charges?"
Rabastan had to ask because Molly Weasley's son tried to assassinate Lord Voldemort—the ruler of the Magical Union— and them.
Technically, the rest of the Weasleys were innocent and did not have to be prosecuted.
The fact that more than a third of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would have been killed did not help the Weasleys in the eyes of society now, and Lucius knew that the family of rats would have a wonderful life even outside of the prison with Dementors.
Everyone around this oval table full with delicious food—he had been to Azkaban—in the Ministry's restaurant—3 Michelin stars—would be dead.
He could have died.
Draco, too, maybe.
Had his Lord not been present, he would have died, and Lucius didn't want to even think about it.
There were just too many emotions involved, and he didn't like it. How did he allow something like this to happen?
How did a mere twenty-year-old boy manage to bring a magical bomb into the courtroom and not one of the Excubitores noticed it?
Never let others do what you should do yourself.
He needed to up the security and safety measures and not rely on people like Dolohov.
Lucius still did not know what the Dark Lord had planned for George Weasley as it was lunchtime now—delicious meat so tender, and the sauce was simply mouth-watering—and Lucius put his fork away to take the crystal glass with wine.
He wasn't Rabastan.
It was hard to drink with the youngest Lestrange.
Rabastan was a brutal, hungry, insane pig who forgot all manners when he drank, while when Lucius drank, he became very flirty with females, pissing off Narcissa, and that was why he had never drunk on official parties or gatherings.
Well, not never …
Still, even if he drank, he had to go home.
And he liked it peaceful.
He might have wild tendencies, but home was important for Lucius.
So he preferred not to see Rabastan when he was drunk.
Lestrange had not been his friend before, but somehow, during this year, Lucius started to actually like the youngest brother. Barty had been the best, but alas …
Fudge.
His time was coming. Soon, it would knock on his door with a silver snake-headed cane.
Let Fudge watch him from his back table, close to the toilets and exit.
Lucius was a star now.
Their propaganda—both British and French—was doing miracles, and more and more people were joining their cause. There were so many foreigners in London that Lucius had to concentrate to hear English in the crowds.
Well, it wasn't that bad …
As long as they were magical, and if they weren't Mudbloods…
Drinking with Rabastan was not on his schedule as it was damaging to his health and mind, so Lucius put the goblet away from the hungry green eyes that couldn't help but watch his glass.
"No."
Dolohov was staring in him—without blinking—and Lucius wished to take the golden fork— it was his Ministry and he had standards— and stick it into one insane eye.
Or both, if I use the golden knife as well.
One did not talk while chewing and one did not stare at people while they ate.
"Why not?"
Dolohov didn't have to sit with them, but he was an Inner Circle Death Eater, and Lucius couldn't just throw him out.
Pity.
Why no charges?
Because.
He didn't know why.
No charges against the Weasleys. That was what his Lord had said.
Only the already existing charges were pressed, and so only Ginny and Arthur Weasley were up for debate.
He would put Arthur in Azkaban and boot Ginevra out of Hogwarts and then sell her on the black market. He knew a few buyers who were interested in perverted porn stars with a published portfolio.
And the money for published products was also his—the Ministry's— now.
Pornography was very profitable.
"And the bitch?"
Oh, Rabastan, is that interest I see?
"And what about her?"
They were sort-of-friends, and they worked a lot together, but they were competitors.
He was the favourite one now.
His Lord had said that there was no need to press any charges against Molly Weasley, and no charges would be pressed.
It was one of the two: either the Mudblood worked hard—now that he knew …—or the Dark Lord had something in store for the whale.
The Dark Lord was definitely going to kill George, but what he would do with a bomb—he knew he would use it, but where?—was a mystery to Lucius.
"I'll take her."
Lucius looked at everyone's raised eyebrows, and then at Lestrange Junior.
"Will you really?"
Arthur was his, but he didn't want to share a Weasley. He wanted to control them both and put the score near his name.
If Lestrange wanted, he'd get the girl because he was the second favourite now, and Lucius had to share even if he wanted to claim all redheads as his prey.
They tried to kill him.
Cutting the tender mean—a buffalo—Lucius tried not to think that this could be his last meal. He was mortal. And he almost died.
It was disconcerting.
xxx
"Do you sleep with him, Hermione?"
Hermione was looking at Harry with pursed lips as he refused to move.
"Give me all your drugs, Harry."
Hermione's voice wasn't quivering, but Harry could see she was shaken.
What had Voldemort done now?
"Who are you kidding here, Hermione? We both know it's useless. I won't give you anything, so just don't lie or evade the question. Do you fuck with Voldemort?"
Hermione looked ready to cry, and Harry closed his eyes with a shaking hand.
He smelled lies, and Hermione simply stank.
He needed a dose.
Of everything.
xxx
It was brilliant.
The strongest Slytherin treat was the ability to adapt, and he was the Slytherin, so it wasn't a problem to shift his plans a bit as the result would be worth his time.
He had planned on sending the bomb over to Shell Cottage and blow up the whole happy little family—it was evil, but he wasn't Dumbledore— of annoying redheads—he even shared his plans with Hermione and totally horrified her gentle heart—but somehow, his plans had changed.
It had been Harry who had approached him directly after Hermione—he really should make hours of visitation—and Voldemort could not say "no" to an amazing opportunity that offered itself on a silver plate.
Voldemort took a sip before he looked at Harry, who was pacing in front of him, and put the glass with Magic-Cola away. He tried it, and it was not bad, but he wasn't a fan.
He preferred the bitter one with sizzling bubbles.
Harry was now sober as Voldemort refused to deal with a junky when they talked about important matters, and it definitely looked that Harry wasn't enjoying it.
And there were a few spells that worked even better than sobering potions.
"I won't do it. I am not a murderer!"
There was no need to shout.
What was it with Gryffindors and shouting?
"And how had you been planning on finishing our disagreement, Harry? By singing me a lullaby?"
Hypocrites, all of them.
"Don't compare yourself and George! You're a maniac and a murderer, but George is not! And you killed my parents!"
He would Cruciate Harry, but the opportunity was just too good to miss.
"George planned on detonating a magical bomb, killing more than half of the people present in the large auditorium. The fact that I stopped him does not mean he's not murderer material. Use your brains, Harry. I won't let him go no matter what. I am offering you a fair deal, don't you think?"
Rabastan would never tell even his brother about the wards, and Voldemort would talk to his Death Eater later.
No one needed to know that there had been a safety net.
The bomb would have exploded, but it would have damaged not the Judge Tribune, but the other tribunes.
Voldemort had wanted to let it blow up—it would be interesting to watch—but then the damage would have been too big.
Too many powerful levers would be buried too early.
"How is it fair?! I cannot kill George!"
Potter was shaking in rage—and withdrawal already—and Voldemort had to close his eyes as he imagined how Harry would react later when he would remove all the drugs from Potter's addicted hands. He needed a soldier, not a clown.
"Then don't. I don't have all day to sit here with you and listen to your moaning. If you don't kill Weasley, I'll give him to all those he wanted to kill, but before doing so, I'll send the bomb to Shell Cottage, killing everyone inside. How about that?"
He saw Harry jump at him before the grey shoes left the floor, and Voldemort grabbed his throat with a wandless, non-verbal spell.
Mad with grief and depression, the green eyes were somehow empty, and there was no spark, like before. The fire was missing.
And he knew how to ignite fire.
It was his element, after all.
Looking at Harry— who was struggling to breathe—he wondered how long it would need to shape him. Harry was a hair away from the abyss, and he would remove the hair. Harry would be fully —irreversibly— damaged and broken.
His.
That was why he had never taken drugs. Even when he was young, he had not taken drugs because he couldn't allow himself to lose control like that.
Voldemort refused to lose control to some powder or pills and turn into the creature that Potter resembled now.
No drugs and no uncontrolled consummation of alcohol.
He didn't depend on anything.
Power was his drug, and Voldemort did not need any other.
He was going to kill the Weasley, but not himself.
He'd let Harry do it.
Wasn't he merciful?
xxx
"Dad, I am afraid."
Ginny whispered to her father as the jury returned, but Voldemort and Harry were still missing.
"Ginny, my girl, you are strong. Don't give up, my flower."
His father's face was pale and his eyes were full with tears, but love shone at her, and Ginny wanted nothing more but to hug her daddy and fall asleep to awake to a normal world.
Through the tears, Ginny saw Harry and Voldemort enter, and judging my Harry's mad eyes, she would need all her strength.
xxx
"Arthur Weasley, you are found guilty in charges of procuring prostitution, spreading pornography, and tax evasion."
George could only watch Malfoy read his father's verdict with a smile on a nasty face, and he wanted to die. He knew that he'd soon be reunited with his twin, but he couldn't wait for it.
He had failed and made everything worse for his family.
He needed Fred.
"You are sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban."
No …
Dad …
"Ginny Weasley, you are found guilty in charges of prostitution and pornography. You are to be expelled from Hogwarts, and unless you wish to join your father in Azkaban, you will be given to a new guardian, whose morality and good faith cannot be questioned."
What?! Who was going to be his little sister's guardian?
"The jury found the Weasleys unfit parents who use their children for making profit and raised them all without any morality and good faith. Ginny Weasley is no longer officially a daughter to Molly and Arthur Weasley, and her life will now be in reliable hands."
Die, Malfoy! Die!
"The new guardian of Ginevra Weasley will be Rabastan Lestrange."
I am so sorry, little one.
"George Weasley, you are found guilty for attempting to assassinate the Dark Lord, the Minister of Magic, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Head of the Law Enforcement, the Head Excubitor, and the main prosecutor of the Ministry of Magic."
Fuck you all.
"You're sentenced to death."
xxx
If he didn't do it, George would be tortured by every name he had called. George would be tortured on a daily basis, from morning till dawn by anyone who wished to try his or her hand.
Or wand.
He said Dolohov loved to torture men.
And Harry didn't want to imagine what that meant.
George.
Fred and George.
The twins.
Ron and Ginny would hate him, he knew. And Molly's reaction was one that Harry didn't want to imagine, but Hermione …
She could be the only one who could understand it.
She knew Voldemort.
And the bomb …
It would blow up Shell Cottage, killing Bill and Fleur, who was pregnant.
And George would see it all before his own tortures and eventual death.
Harry didn't want to think, but he couldn't take any drugs as until he fired off a Killing Curse towards George, Harry was not allowed to use anything.
If he broke that rule, he'd be banned from the drug market, and Harry didn't want that.
Spare George and damn himself or damn George and spare himself?
Let Voldemort do it.
xxx
Molly could not move from the terror, and as she opened her mouth to scream, she found out she couldn't.
She couldn't move, just like the rest of her family, who could only stare at one another in horror.
"After a long consideration, I have decided that the honour to kill the one who tried to assassinate me, your Lord, and your government, should befall on someone special."
The Dark Lord was sitting in his large, spacious chair, and he was looking at Harry, who sat with his eyes closed.
"Show everyone what happens to those who defy me. Show them, Harry. Make me proud."
Dear Merlin, please, please, stop it. Please save my children.
If she could wail, she would.
"Harry, no!"
Molly heard the scream and watched Hermione fall unconscious into her chair before she was Portkeyed away.
What had Hermione done to herself?
Molly wasn't blind or stupid, and as she sat here, crying with her family, unable to leave the room, she thought about Hermione, too.
Molly refused to look at Voldemort as a man, but even she had to admit he looked good.
Hermione was a young girl who liked famous boys.
First Victor, then Harry, and now …
Molly's mouth opened in a silent scream when, suddenly, Harry took out his wand and shouted.
"Avada Kedavra!"
xxx
He saw Harry take out his wand, and he wanted to hug him in gratitude.
Thank you, little brother.
He thought he saw the small nod, and then, he heard the words.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light sped towards him, and George smiled.
Hi, Freddy.
xxx
Draco let go of the chair he had been gripping when the lone clapping filled the large, silent room after the body of George Weasley leaned over his chair and fell onto the floor with a thud.
"Harry, Harry. Welcome to the dark side. You may have your cookie now and eat it."
And then the Dark Lord started laughing.
xxx
Hermione woke up to the familiar scent, and she put her nose deeper into the pillow, breathing in the smell she loved.
Marvolo.
With a lightning strike to her brain, Hermione jumped up in the bed and looked around.
She was at her apartment.
With tears in her eyes, Hermione threw the pillow onto the floor as she remembered that it smelled of this monster that killed not only adults but unborn children as well.
It was the last strike when he had told her lightly how he'd greet the unborn girl with fireworks, as he laughed at her tears and caressed her hair in mocking understanding.
She needed to find Harry and Ron and understand what had happened.
She needed to face the reality.
xxx
"So, you see, it isn't really about who is right or who is wrong. It's all about who is the last one standing."
The wind blew, and he had to lift the edges of the cloak so that they wouldn't get dirtied in that.
"You don't look so well. Having trouble sleeping?"
The moon was full and there was enough light to see the shimmering lake with silent waves.
Beautiful.
"Come on, don't be so unfriendly. Don't hurt my feelings."
He opened the bottle with a loud bang, and the foamy bubbly liquid filled two glasses.
"Here, I brought you a glass of champagne, too. Our Harry is all grown up."
Champagne was the best. The bubbles were so light but sizzling that he couldn't help but smile after finishing his tall glass.
"... and then I sent the bomb to the joke shop. I wanted to deliver it to Shell Cottage, but even I cannot always have what I want. Unfair, don't you think?"
His companion's tall glass was still full. Voldemort frowned before taking the full glass, and he tilted it to the side, allowing the sparkling liquid to run down in thin creeks before not one drop was left in the glass.
"Tasty? It's my favourite. It's called Illuminatum Tenebris. Made especially for me as a small token in the honour of the first year's celebration."
Lord Voldemort got up from his half-crouching position on the stone and straightened up before taking the bottle with a Dark Mark on it, and placing it carefully between the two hands.
It wasn't as easy to unclench them as it looked, Voldemort thought when he heard a crack.
Oops.
"My sincerest apologies, Albus. I don't usually dig graves, so you'll have to forgive my clumsiness. But I'll leave you the bottle; take better care of it than you did with the Elder wand. Maybe we'll drink it again in a few hundred years. Don't go anywhere."
He'd need to change the cloak as the edges managed to somehow find themselves in the contents of the decaying body.
He didn't want to bring any parts of Albus Dumbledore back home.
"I'll give your best regards to Harry and Hermione."
The Preservation Charms had been removed last time—when he had found an Elder Wand—and he had done it not only because he could but also because only he—Lord Voldemort—would be the only one who would remain the same forever, who would not age.
And Albus Dumbledore would disappear fully one day, turning to dust.
With a swish of his wand, the tomb started to close, and nothing indicated anymore that only a few minutes ago, Lord Voldemort had been sitting on the elevated tomb stone above Albus Dumbledore's resting place, with his leather shoes on the casket, pouring the champagne into the corpse's mouth.
The full moon was illuminating the white tomb and Lord Voldemort cast a final look at it before Apparating away.
What a good day.
xxx
He was squatting near the figure on the floor, his lightened bone-white wand held above the head with brown hair.
Ten minutes had passed since he arrived here, and with a heavy sigh, he put his wand away.
It was useless.
The Muggle was brain dead, and there was nothing he could do.
For the last ten minutes, he—Lord Voldemort—had been trying to restore the damaged mind, but he had come too late from his get-together with Albus.
Bellatrix's Cruciatus was secondary to his only, and five minutes under the curse had been too much for a Muggle.
Fuck.
Voldemort had never cursed, but today, it had been first that idiot boy with a bomb that could have killed all his best Death Eaters, and now it was his own follower who had managed to seriously damage his plans.
"Do you understand what I am going to do to you, Bella?"
Bellatrix had been sitting in the corner, shaking in fear and realisation that she had crossed an invisible line and that she might not survive this night.
Voldemort pinched his nose as he thought about what to do.
The situation turned from perfect to simply catastrophic, and for the first time in a year, Lord Voldemort was confused.
He did not know what to do now.
How to win from a situation like this?
Bella had managed to kill Hermione's mother and brain-damaged the father, and Voldemort smashed a vase on the table in silent rage.
He had removed all the wards around the house when he arrived, and while the wards had been good, Bellatrix managed to get in without alerting anyone but him.
The wards around the Muggles were Hermione's, but the alert ward was his.
And he had waited before coming over to the other side of the world—he was a busy man—but those ten minutes had cost him a lot when a lever of incredible power was destroyed too early and unintentionally used against him.
All his near-future plans for Hermione were smashed, and it would be very hard to pull off his original plan.
He'd have to adapt.
He couldn't make Hermione feel what she needed to feel to the point where her soul started to tear apart, if she would be insane or if she refused to return to him.
The problem with Horcruxes was that it was impossible to reassemble them without feeling regret; there was no spell or ritual that allowed him to collect them otherwise.
Only regret could make the parts of his soul return to him, and Voldemort could not feel regret.
But Hermione could.
He wanted to bring her to the highest possible "up" point— he wasn't anywhere near being done yet—and then, he'd let her see all she had done, with a conscious and sane mind.
Intentionally or not did not matter, Voldemort thought as he straightened his green tie in the reflection of one photograph on the wall.
He needed her to feel regret—as he himself couldn't—and when she felt it, he'd use their connection and pull the Horcruxes to him.
Hermione needed to feel regret so powerful that it would tear her soul apart, and therefore, Voldemort knew he had to bring Hermione to impossible heights before throwing her down into the abyss.
She killed a part of his soul—he did not forget about the Hufflepuff Cup—and played a huge role in his almost-downfall. She did not regret about her actions—proud was a better word—and she never asked him to spare her.
She could, but she didn't.
He wasn't going to offer.
Bella.
What was it with females and him?
Why did Harry, Lucius, and Rabastan caused him no troubles, but the females around him …
Narcissa was battling a moral debate with herself, and if she didn't stop, he'd have to get rid of her as Lucius's attention had to be on the business. He knew that Malfoy needed a break, and he'd give him one, but Narcissa had to be careful. Otherwise, Malfoy could start looking for a new wife.
Bellatrix managed to thwart all his grandiose plans with her stupid jealousy, and Voldemort wasn't sure he would let her live. She was faithful and extremely loyal, even going to Azkaban with pride, but she forgot her place for a second and he couldn't allow it to happen again.
She wasn't the best anymore.
And Hermione …
Voldemort shook his head as he imagined her reaction and the consequences.
While he could blame it all on Bellatrix, it was his fault that his own servant forgot her place. And the reason why she had forgotten it was also him.
And he was late to the wards' disturbance as he was chatting with Albus and decided to postpone his visit to Australia.
All his plans for the near future were falling apart and he hadn't foreseen that.
"Sit."
He knew it was English when he saw his Death Eater shiver and sit down again, back into the corner.
He should have read Bella's thoughts as well, but he was busy with the redheads and Harry.
He even let the rest of the Weasleys go as he didn't want to push Hermione to the edge. She needed to fall, but she still had to return to him.
Italy would join the Union, and Lucius had to get his break before Rabastan. That left Voldemort to deal with all the Ministry or Hogwarts mess.
The new proximity ward alerted him of the arrival, and Voldemort inwardly cursed again as he hit a chair with a bang.
Fuck!
How had he missed a ward?!
He grabbed the crying Bellatrix by her arm as he saw two running figures enter the house, and as he looked at the mad with panic, smart brown eyes, he knew their journey wouldn't be like a straight, smooth road; it would be more like a path in a wild jungle with predators, high rocks, and deep holes on the way.
What could he say?
"You murderer!"
She jumped at him, and it was only Potter who held her back. Harry understood everything as he saw the shivering Bellatrix in the corner, but Hermione would blame him, not Bella.
He could even read the thoughts she had now.
He didn't torture her father while fucking with Bellatrix, even if his wand was out.
He had been trying to help him.
He, Lord Voldemort, had been trying to restore the brain of a filthy Muggle.
He wasn't going to apologize—my bad?—or find excuses. He wasn't some soft fluffy teddy bear, and while he didn't want Hermione's parents dead, he couldn't change anything now.
"It's not a very good day, is it?"
What else was there to say?
He was so going to torture Bella ...
He watched his Mudblood fall down on her knees and wail as she hugged her mother's body, and Voldemort saw Potter glare at Bellatrix in the corner.
The brown eyes were filled with hate as Hermione looked at him, and Voldemort Apparated away, taking his shivering servant with him.
What a bad day.
xxx
Harry was looking at Hermione's sleeping form on her parent's sofa as he swallowed his pills.
The day was just going from bad to worse.
Hermione had run to him in Grimmauld Place—where Harry was very busy getting high—demanding answers, and for the first time, Harry just told her everything.
The drugs were still a topic they didn't agree on, but it wasn't as bad as Harry had thought it would be.
They talked for a long time and there were a lot of tears, but Harry felt relief that he had been correct.
Hermione understood and even told him that he saved George, allowing him to leave with dignity.
And Bill and Fleur.
Voldemort had seriously planned on sending the bomb over to the young family, but somehow, he didn't. He blew up the empty joke-shop instead, and Harry wasn't sure why. Now he knew why.
It was not only because he agreed to kill George. It was also because Voldemort didn't want to destroy Hermione.
Molly Weasley and Ron didn't agree with the judgement, and when Harry and Hermione had Apparated into the Burrow, the scandal and the screaming were horrible.
Hermione was a star-seeker, he was a ruthless murderer, and they were to never enter that house again.
It was their fault that her family was destroyed and children dead.
Molly's exact words that hurt both him and Hermione.
Ron refused to talk to them, and therefore they had left, returning to Grimmauld Place before Hermione jumped up in horror when the hidden alarm in the good luck charm ward on her parent's house alerted about intruders.
It looked like Voldemort had his own alert wards as when Harry and Hermione finally came to Australia, it was too late.
They were late.
Just like Voldemort had been.
Poor Hermione.
While it had always been Hermione who acted like a mother, now it was Harry's turn to hold her when she broke into pieces.
Hermione was the only person he had left, and he really loved her.
Like a sister.
Harry took a deep breath as Hermione started to cry in her sleep, and with a shake of his head, he patted her hair.
She loved Voldemort.
Whoa.
And Voldemort wasn't that bad to her—Harry's life as Horcrux hadn't been anywhere near horrible either, but then again, Voldemort had not known about his own soul being stuck in him—and Harry wondered what he was up to.
Harry was sure that Voldemort had been innocent—probably for the first time in his life—as it made no sense for him to kill Hermione's parents—and man, Voldie had been really pissed at the insane hag—but Bellatrix on the other hand …
Considering Hermione's situation, that mad piece of shit hated her guts.
How had Bellatrix found out about Hermione's parents?
Harry closed his eyes as a wave of pleasure washed over him, and he sat into the chair.
He was a murderer now, George was dead, Mister Weasley was in Azkaban, Ginny belonged to Rabastan Lestrange, Hermione's parents were murdered, and the rest of the Weasleys hated him.
Voldemort had been right again, Harry thought while looking at Hermione's sleeping form.
It wasn't a very good day.
The only good thing was that Bellatrix Lestrange would now face an enraged Dark Lord, and there was no guarantee Harry would ever see her insane eyes again.
Bitch.
xxx
a//n I so was going to blow the Shell Cottage up, but hey...it's more fun that way, isn't it? So, I gave it a thought, and I have decided to time jump a bit in the next chapter. I cannot tell you when I'll update, but hopefully soon. Please review and let me know what you think. Your thoughts encourage me to write more, and I think that benefits us all. No? :) Thank you for reading and until next time! Waves
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Two Steps From Hell