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Two Steps From Hell	By : Ssserpensssotia Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 30378 -:- 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
- 24
- 25
- 26
Hi!
Sherlocked17- You took the words out of my mouth ;) This is exactly how I want readers to see the story: no sugarcoating, no pink unicorns, only the dark world that Voldemort had created and Hermione, who tries to find her footing. Thank you!
Ice Empress- I hope you’ll like my intake on Bellatrix’s punishment ;) Yes, Hermione gets no breaks, but then again, I doubt Voldemort would give her any XD Thank you so much!
Tori- your amazing review pushed me to finish the chapter. I am so thrilled to read that you think I manage to grasp the characters and broaden them. I am trying to give little details here and there, to create a character that is not like a leaf- transparent and simple. And to know that you think I managed that, is simply awesome!
Mega thank you to Serp, who with her funny comments to the chapter made my day. If there is one person who suffers from the fast updates then that would be her. I really need to send her some dark cookies :)
I hope you'll like the chapter. I'd really appreciate your opinion. Good or bad, as long as justified...
Beta: Serpent in Red
xxx
Two Steps From Hell
xxx
Horcrux Mine
Chapter Twenty Five
The dark heavy fog was clouding her mind, and she had to squeeze her eyelids together before trying to tear them apart. It was hard to breathe, and when a cough was torn from her chest, she saw the blood on the floor.
She was lying face down on the cold, hard floor; her limbs were shivering, and her body felt like it was burning from the inside. She had never felt pain like that, and Bellatrix had felt many pains in her life.
"Why would you dare to go against my direct orders, targeting and killing those two particular Muggles? Who do you think you are, Bella?"
Her Master's voice was colder than she had ever heard, and her heart tore at the frozen notes in the usually silky, smooth voice, with a note of Parseltongue, giving it a most unique sound that she would recognize it anywhere.
Master.
Bellatrix didn't simply love him; she didn't simply want him; she didn't simply respect him—she worshipped the man who had taught her everything she knew and who was her everything.
Even now, close to death—when it was impossible to breathe—just being in his presence was a blessing, and when the clicking of the dragon-skin shoes on the marble floor sounded closer, Bellatrix whimpered at the electrical shocks that started to run up her left leg.
I am your Bella, my Lord.
Bellatrix thought with all the love, respect, and passion she had for those pale blue eyes that were watching her from a very close distance.
My Lord is leaning over me, Bellatrix realised with a jolt to her heart, and the pain didn't matter anymore. She'd hold it together to just prolong this moment as there was nothing more important than him.
"Always so loyal, so fierce. Remember what I told you when you first came to me?"
The pale eyes were watching her intently, the beautifully-shaped lips pursed lightly before a perfectly shaped black eyebrow rose a bit in question.
How could she not?
The long thirteen years when the wind howled every day and every night, when the Dementors twirled around her cage—she had been their favourite—when every second felt like an hour, Bellatrix spent her every breath thinking about him.
She was married, and her husband was approved by her parents and the Dark Lord himself, but Rodolphus never interested Bella.
How could he?
Her only passion had always been her Master.
Yes, my Lord, I remember everything.
Her Lord had told her to never disappoint him, to never defy him in any of his judgements, and she followed that rule like a law.
That was until today, when she saw how that filthy Mudblood had looked at her Lord, and something inside her exploded.
That bitch was intimate with her Master, and there was nothing she could do. Bellatrix would kill anyone—herself included—for even one night with the man she always worshipped from a distance. If for only one night he allowed her to touch him, to kiss him, to feel him, she would do anything possible and impossible.
One night was all she dared to ask for, and that slut had gotten a week. Bellatrix knew her Master was away, but she had not known that the Mudblood had also been away before seeing them together.
"You disappointed me, Bellatrix."
Please, no! Master!
Please, Master! Bellatrix's cry was followed by the hot tears in her eyes as the pale eyes looked over her face one more time before disappearing as her Lord straightened up.
Don't leave me.
Her heart was frozen in horror and pain, and Bellatrix Lestrange could only silently sob into the pool of her own blood and listen to the cold, ruthless voice.
"Your loyalty will keep you alive, Bella. But my mercy has boundaries, and you have rather rudely overstepped them."
The voice she loved so much was tearing her heart apart, and Bellatrix waited with held breath for the verdict.
"You'll spend some time away from others, so that you could think about your actions. You will be away for as long as you need to find your discipline."
The coughing from her chest was so loud and hoarse that she had to hold her throat with one hand. And then she could breathe again, when the black cloud started to disappear and the electrical shocks left her body; the cuts on her body and the wounds were healing, and Bellatrix managed to get onto her knees before bowing so deep that her head was lying on the cold floor.
He cared about her.
With hot tears in her eyes, Bellatrix watched the pale eyes on the perfect face, as her Lord had reached out his hand and was cupping her chin, holding her gaze.
My Master.
"You'll be returning to Azkaban."
The wail that left her lips was silenced when the Dark Lord leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead.
Master …
xxx
One week later
Her hands were trembling, and Hermione had to lean on the doorframe to get her act together. Her mother had been buried three days ago, and her father was in St. Mungo's, in a room next to the Longbottoms. The Healers said there was no hope for recovery, but Hermione refused to believe them and let her father sleep on the softest bed, looking at the magically-created stars and the moon on the ceiling, and not burying him next to her mom.
One week had passed since the worst day in her life, and Hermione didn't know how much longer she could go on without the mind barrier.
She could feel a presence near her mind now, and as Hermione closed her eyes with her hand, she tried not to think about the person whom this piece of soul belonged to. She felt some sort of emotions radiate from the dark corner of her mind, but they were dulled by her own raging feelings.
She couldn't fall apart now, when she had to go visit her dad, and Hermione gathered all her strength before Apparating to St. Mungo's.
xxx
"The damage is too extensive, the neurons are torn and the polarity of the brain is irreversibly shattered."
Each word that came from the Healer felt like a knife in her heart, and Hermione started rubbing her thumbs together so that she wouldn't break apart and just cry.
"And Legilimency? Maybe it is possible to do at least something?" Hermione asked, holding her breath.
The Healer—a man around fifty with kind blue eyes that Hermione refused to look at—pursed his lips before sitting opposite of her.
"I have taken a Confidentiality Oath, and I will not be able to tell anyone anything we talk about, Miss Granger. So, I will tell you how it is, and you'll correct me if I am wrong, all right?"
Hermione could only dumbly nod at the weirdly phrased sentence and finally looked into the kind blue eyes.
Why did they have to be blue?
"I am a Mind Healer, and only because of my experience with victims of the Cruciatus, I can guarantee you that all there was to do was done even before you had brought your father into my care."
Hermione's mouth opened in silent shock at Healer Matheus's statement.
"There is only one person I believe to be capable of such powerful Mind Magic, and when I tell you that if the Dark Lord could not revert the damage caused to your father, then no one could."
It felt as if a heavy hammer was thrown into her head from a distance, gaining speed for the hit, and as Hermione tried to swallow, she found her throat closed.
Harry had been right.
"How can you be sure that he tried to help?" Hermione managed to ask through the hot pain in her heart, swallowing with an effort.
"Miss Granger, you can ask any Healer to take a look at your father's brain, and you'll hear the same thing from anyone you ask. A lot of magic and effort were put into the restoration, but it's just not possible. Even magic has limits, I am afraid," Dr. Matheus nodded with a sad smile on his face and Hermione felt the hot tears run down her cheeks.
"Is there anything I can do?" Hermione asked through the tears, and as she saw the Healer shake his head, she started to cry without anything holding her back.
xxx
Two weeks later
"You have to go to him before you go crazy, Hermione," Harry said as he twirled in the bright red chair that was now situated in the Grimmauld Place. The Venice apartment had been empty from the furniture as Hermione had burned the bed and threw out every piece of furniture that reminded of the time with him.
The only thing that had survived her rage had been the red chair that Harry had snatched for himself on the first opportunity, and that was the only spot of color in the gloomy house of Black.
"I will do no such thing, Harry," Hermione answered with a sneer as she took notes while reading a book on the Mind Arts.
It had been hard to concentrate, and Hermione shook her head with pinned hair before rubbing her make-up free eyes and leaning over the book again.
The loud snort was all she heard, and with disbelieving eyes, Hermione watched Harry consume the purple powder.
"Are you out of your mind?"
The drugs was a topic that was better to be left alone as Harry simply refused to part with his treasured bags, but it was one thing to know your best friend had been a junky and completely another when you could see him consume the drugs in your presence as if they were candies.
"He doesn't make you see him, but I have to go now. I need to feel refreshed."
Hermione's breath hitched, and her heart missed a beat at Harry's words. She had not seen Voldemort in two weeks that had passed, and it was even hard to think about seeing his face again.
Stop it! Hermione ordered her heart, and with a sigh, she got up from her spot on the sofa and gathered her stuff. The new furniture would be delivered today, and Hermione had to return to the empty flat.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Harry's green eyes looked bigger and brighter without the glasses, and Hermione wanted to cry at the thought that Voldemort had been the first and only adult that solved Harry's problem with poor vision.
"I'll be ok. Be careful, Harry."
Hugging her friend, Hermione tried not to think about how she'd spend her evening.
xxx
The lips were so tender but so demanding that she couldn't stop a moan that escaped her. The pale-blue eyes were as smart and piercing as always, and Hermione wiggled in pleasure, grabbing a handful of silky black hair.
"I love you," Hermione said, holding the gaze, and her heart was running a marathon from the emotions she felt for him.
She saw the tender lips stretch into a sincere smile, and Hermione wanted to close her eyes from the pleasure, but she could only look directly into the intelligent eyes that watched her closely now.
She thought she saw the lips open, but instead of the smooth voice that made her shiver in pleasure, she heard her mom.
"My baby, I love you so much. My Hermione."
The pale eyes turned red, and then they were replaced with a skull that had holes instead of the eyes, and Hermione screamed before waking up.
Her shivering, sweaty body was covered by the tangled sheets, and as Hermione's shaking hand took a dose of a Dreamless Sleep Potion from her nightstand, she tried not to cry again.
Mom.
Dad.
xxx
"I will always protect you, my sunshine. I will always be there for you, my baby girl. Daddy will not let anything happen to you. Sleep and I'll watch over you."
A younger version of her father was trying to calm down a four-year-old girl with unruly hair, sitting on her bed, hugging a fluffy rabbit.
"You won't leave me, Daddy?" The small voice was so full of trust and love that the brown eyes of her father shone with tears.
"Never, my sunshine."
Hermione left the memory in the Pensieve, and wiping her tears, she fell onto the bed, trying to hold in her sobs.
Bellatrix …
xxx
"Forced Occlumency is incredibly difficult to pull off especially if you refuse to remove the mind barrier. We have known each other since you were a mere twenty-year-old boy whom I taught all I know about Necromancy, and you know what I am asking for is a fair price. "
Viscal Pare shared a look with his daughter before looking directly into the pale eyes of Lord Voldemort, who was leaning back into his chair, feet crossed, and a slight frown marring the otherwise smooth skin.
The white shirt and the black leather jacket looked perfect on the elegant form, and Pare smirked slightly as he saw his daughter's stare at the leaning figure.
If Lord Voldemort agreed …
"You better be as good as I think you are, Pare."
And the dark-skinned wizard smiled.
xxx
Hermione was sitting in the bathtub, water running in different colors, but her mind did not notice the myriad of rainbow bubbles or the sweet smell.
Slowly washing her tanned, smooth skin, Hermione tried not to think about him.
Even the tan had been planned.
Initial madness had stepped aside, leaving the sorrow and pain behind, and Hermione did not know what to do.
It had been so much easier to think that Voldemort had intentionally tortured her parents while having sex with Bellatrix than to know that it had not been the case.
It had taken Hermione at least a week to understand that Voldemort had tried to help her father, and while she still blamed him, she missed him.
For one year he had been her constant companion, his dry humour and sharp tongue allowing sincere smiles to stretch over her lips even if Hermione did not want to smile then. His scent was imprinted into her brain, and even now she could feel the ghost of his touch.
Marvolo.
Hermione tried to hold back her tears as she thought that she would never touch those tender lips with hers again or that she wouldn't see him sleeping next to her anymore.
It had been her choice, and while Hermione didn't blame only Voldemort now, she still hated him and what he had done to the Weasleys and her parents.
Hermione could not understand why it was hard to breathe when Cleo would fly into her window, bringing post, or why the shadows in her room made her heart gallop. She refused to think about the fact that her stare would jump from one black-haired man to another when outside or that her eyes would unintentionally search well-dressed wizards in the crowds, freezing her heart when she thought she had seen him.
He was in Italy, Hermione was sure of it, as she knew about the new government, and a Minister had not been chosen yet, which meant that Voldemort was here.
Not one word, not one look, not one thought. Just like she preferred it to be.
Voldemort simply disappeared, and while Hermione was grateful that she wouldn't have to face him now, she felt torn apart with all the emotions caged inside of her heart.
He was her guardian, and while Hermione had broken up with him, she would still need to face him from time to time.
Splashing the foamy water over her face, Hermione started to sob as she imagined how she would have to live now.
Nightmare.
xxx
He had been away for two weeks, but it looked like he had been away for a year, Lucius thought as he opened the newspaper and almost dropped it in shock.
New Minister for Magic of Italy swears loyalty to the Dark Lord!
Now, if that wasn't Cara Pare, standing close to the Dark Lord, her big, cat-like eyes shining with pride, then Lucius wasn't a Malfoy.
Well, well, well …
Smirking at the picture of the beautiful woman, Lucius Malfoy checked the time.
One more massage, and then he'd leave for Italy.
It was time to greet his newest colleague.
Xxx
"… twenty-five would be the best, and I highly doubt we'll manage with twenty."
The silence was heavy, and the sweat started to roll down his nose when a green light illuminated the room, making the figure sitting next to him drop onto the floor like a rag doll between the chair and the desk.
Andrea had warned them to wait for Malfoy to return, but Rookwood had thought his Lord would be interested to know about the happenings in the Department of Mysteries and had even taken his assistant with him.
"Take thirty, Augustus."
His Lord was leaning into the chair that was usually meant for the Minister, not looking at him, and Rookwood swallowed hard before getting up and bowing, trying not to touch the dead body of the Unspeakable who dared to tell Lord Voldemort that he needed more people to deal with everything.
His Lord's temper had been very short lately, and he had even seen Rabastan Lestrange limp out of the office of the Minister of Magic.
No one was safe when his Lord was in such mood.
"Yes, my Lord."
It was rumoured that Bellatrix had disappeared, but no one knew where to.
Lestrange Junior was at Hogwarts constantly with his new toy, and Malfoy had two weeks off, so Lord Voldemort dealt with everything Ministry-related.
"Tell Andrea to come in here on your way out."
Augustus Rookwood bowed again before leaving the office and stepping into the hallway.
The worried eyes of Andrea Andersen told him that he had been correct in his assessment of the Dark Lord's recent mood, and as he nodded at the secretary, he watched another twenty people wait outside, in the sitting lounge.
Thank Merlin he was done for now.
xxx
Hermione could not sit, and she got up after a second, and as she circled around her apartment, waiting for Harry, she could do nothing to squeeze the emotions that were starting to blossom somewhere deep inside of her.
The opened newspaper was still lying on the table as Hermione grabbed it, and looking at the smiling picture of a gorgeous woman who was looking at Voldemort with large, beautifully shaped green eyes, she tore it apart.
Why was it hard to breathe when she watched the pale-blue eyes on the picture?
Who was that woman?
xxx
Harry was sitting on the floor, and Hermione saw the moment he prepared to lie.
"Don't!"
She knew it was English when she saw Harry wince.
"Yes, I have seen her before. She's a shrink, actually," Harry answered honestly, and Hermione did not know if she should gape at him or question him further.
"A shrink?" she asked with a raised eyebrow as she sat opposite of Harry on the yellow carpet.
He hated yellow.
"Yeah, from what I have heard from Draco, she's the Psychiater that monitors Rabastan and the rest of the Death Eaters who had been to Azkaban. She's really cool from what I know. She must have worked hard to climb up the ladder so quickly, knowing Voldie." Harry knew it was a wrong thing to say when he saw Hermione purse her lips.
Harry wanted to ask why Hermione was asking all those questions, but he already knew.
She was jealous.
Whoa.
xxx
Hermione smashed the vase on the table as she read what the note said. Her studies would begin tomorrow, and it looked like her application for the Dark Arts second semester had been sent back as it missed one signature.
Bastards.
Her emotions were hard to control, but it wasn't because of the blasted Horcrux inside her. The mixture of rage, hate, passion, lust, love, despair, guilt, sorrow, and jealousy were eating at her mind, and Hermione could do nothing against them.
And now she'd have to face that blasted Malfoy because no way in hell would she go and see Voldemort.
Her hair was collected into a messy ponytail, and Hermione put on her orange slippers before Apparating away to the Ministry of Magic.
Voldemort was in Italy, and she didn't have to be afraid to see him.
xxx
The Minister's wing had been dimly lit—like always—and as Hermione's quiet footsteps approached the waiting hall, she almost stopped when she saw the crowd of people, waiting for the reception.
Shit.
She saw Andrea talk to an older wizard when she noticed her approach, and with a smile on her face, the blond witch quickly finished the conversation before turning to Hermione.
"Hermione! What a surprise! I haven't seen you in ages!" The blue eyes widened as Andrea took in Hermione's outfit that consisted of jogging pants, a loose shirt, and orange slippers. "Are you okay?"
The concern was genuine and Hermione smiled slightly before shaking her head.
"Not really. How have you been?" Hermione decided to ignore the stares from the others and concentrated on her mantra to remain calm.
"Oh. I am fine, thank you. Busy, you know."
Yes, she knew about Italy—and the new Italian Minister—and didn't doubt that Malfoy had been treating Andrea like a slave.
"I'll be quick. I just need the documents signed. Do you think you could help me with it?" Hermione asked feeling uncomfortable in her jogging pants and orange slippers when surrounded by cool elegance.
"I am afraid you'll have to wait, Hermione." The regret was visible on the pretty face and Hermione understood that her podium had been removed.
Nodding her head in understanding, Hermione allowed Andrea to lead her to the waiting room that allowed full view of the hallway.
It did not matter, she told herself, trying to hold in the angry tears, as she sat between waiting people.
Bastard.
xxx
Two hours had passed, and Hermione wanted to rip the documents in half before marching inside the oval office and making Malfoy eat them.
"Mister William, please come with me," Andrea said politely entering the waiting room and calling for a wizard who had been shuffling through the newspapers, making Hermione look first at Voldemort and the Italian Minister and then at all the Weasleys and Harry.
Ginny was at Hogwarts, and while before, Hermione would have visited her already, now she wasn't sure Lestrange would allow it.
She wasn't buddies with the Dark Lord anymore, and only now Hermione had started to feel the consequences.
"So you think Pare will become important?"
One of the wizards asked the other, and Hermione had almost dropped her tea at hearing the last name. While the photos were large and provided some information, there had been no name mentioned in the newspaper.
Viscal Pare?!
"It is rumoured that her father is an acquaintance of the Dark Lord. And come on, Rufus, look at her. I haven't seen her near the Dark Lord before, but now she's the Minister of Italy. It doesn't happen over a night, unless the night had been magical." The snickering between the two men made Hermione's heart explode with pain as she imagined this beautiful woman with Marvolo.
She hated him more than ever.
xxx
One more hour went by, and as Hermione was about to get up and go to the restroom, she heard heels on the marble floor, approaching the hallway.
The woman from the picture approached the office, and Hermione saw Andrea smile at her before the woman simply knocked on the door and, a few seconds later, allowed entrance.
The elegantly dressed woman disappeared into the room, and Hermione had to swallow her anger and hurt.
She didn't have to wait.
xxx
One more hour later, after visiting the restroom one time from the three cups of tea she had consumed, Hermione saw Andrea approach her.
"Hermione, you're allowed to come in now," the pretty blond said while holding the waiting room's transparent door opened.
She wanted to ask where the daughter of her Mind Art's professor was, as Hermione had not seen her leave the office, but decided it was best not to show her interest.
Andrea was a friend, but first of all, she was Malfoy's secretary, and considering Malfoy had chosen her instead of hundreds of others, there was no need to pour her heart into the Slytherin's hands.
The slippers shuffled a bit, and Hermione was red with embarrassment as a few witches shook their heads at her.
"I wear what I want, where I want," Hermione spat at the raised eyebrows of one woman who just kept staring at her, and she would have probably started a fight had the door to the cabinet not opened.
"Don't make him wait, Hermione," Andrea's voice was tense, and for the first time, Hermione wondered what kind of a boss Malfoy really was.
As Hermione approached the opened door with a Dark Mark emblem on the golden plate, she took a deep breath.
She could handle Malfoy.
"Minister Malfoy will be back from vacation tomorrow, Mister Mcmillan."
Hermione heard the words when her foot was already on the other side of the cabinet, and her heart plummeted down into her stomach.
If Malfoy had vacation, then who was now in the office?
The answer to her question was leaning back in the chair, talking to the woman from the picture, and Hermione wanted to scream from all the emotions that bombarded her when she met the pale-blue eyes.
xxx
She was sitting in her chair now, trying not to look at the leather jacket or the elegant hands that held her papers now; Hermione tried not to look at the nude pumps or the gorgeous face of the woman who was sitting opposite of her, and the only option was to stare at the ceiling.
She'd deal with her emotions when she'd get home and would not think about how much she had missed him. Or how she hated him and the woman, who was looking at her with a slight, polite smile.
"Cara, make time for scheduled sessions with Miss Granger. Once a week should be enough," Voldemort said not taking his eyes off from the papers, and Hermione fought with the angry whoop that had almost escaped her pursed lips.
What?!
Cara?
"Of course, my Lord. Miss Granger, I'm looking forward to our sessions," Cara Pare said in a smooth voice, not taking her green eyes from Hermione's frozen form.
Hermione could only watch this sophisticated, beautiful woman, who had somehow managed to go from nowhere to the top while Hermione had been mourning her parents and life in general.
"I don't need sessions," Hermione spat before she could stop herself, and as she looked at the widened green eyes, she thought just how much she hated them all.
"Don't forget yourself, Miss Granger." The pale eyes were trained on her now, and Hermione swallowed hard when she felt pain shoot in her mind.
She was Miss Granger now, and it sounded all wrong.
The silence was heavy, and Hermione had to fight with herself to not let the tears run down her cheeks at the indifferent tone or the cold stare.
And she had to call him "my Lord" now …
Why did the fates hate her so much?
"I don't need a shrink, my Lord," Hermione said again, now adding the title he had wanted to hear, and she swore she saw his eyes shine red for a second.
"Miss Pare is not only a shrink, as you say, Miss Granger. She's a talented woman, and this is an order, so don't bother with your opinion," Voldemort said with a slight smirk, and Hermione's disbelieving eyes watched the woman blush.
A Miss, not a Madam.
"Thank you, my Lord."
Hermione felt like a homeless, distraught shell of a person in the oval office of Minister for Magic, sitting opposite a beautiful, refined woman and Marvolo, in his white shirt and leather jacket that suited him so well.
And she looked like she came from a refugee camp.
"You'll be taking additional lessons with Viscal Pare starting tomorrow, and he will teach you how to raise the barrier. If you have questions regarding your studies, you can turn to Rabastan or any other Death Eater. Twice per month, I'll check your progress with the Dark Arts, but other than that, I don't see any reason why you should come to the Slytherin Manor."
She knew that it was pointless to hide her pain from him, but Hermione could only stare into the eyes she loved and hated, as no thoughts were able to anchor her in the whirlpool that was now her mind.
She wanted to not see him, but now, when he so lightly told her wish was granted, Hermione didn't know what she was supposed to feel.
It definitely wasn't supposed to feel like she was torn to pieces.
"I'll send you an owl tomorrow with the time and location, if that is alright with you, Miss Granger?"
Hermione gathered all her strength and nodded at the polite woman.
"Anything else, Miss Granger?" Voldemort asked her, leaning back into the chair, and Hermione wanted to scream at him, to fight him on the floor, on this very silky carpet, but she couldn't.
Not anymore.
"No," Hermione said with resolve before adding, "my Lord."
She thought she saw a ghost of a smile on the handsome face before Voldemort turned in the chair away from her. She got up and, trying not to shuffle with her bright orange slippers, quickly left the room.
Fuck you all.
xxx
That night, before going to bed, Hermione withdrew a memory from her overloaded mind and placed it gently into the Pensieve. She had to watch it first to make sure she removed everything properly, as withdrawing memories was not that easy.
The Horcrux was quiet, prying with unfeigned interest from his sad, dusky corner, and Hermione could feel its twinkling red eyes on her. It sounded as if she were crazy, but normal people didn't shelter a soul of a cold-hearted bastard of a Dark Lord, unlike her.
Hermione took a deep breath and dove into the mystic fog of Pensive. She didn't want to see it, but she had to.
Hermione found herself on the sunny beaches of Goa, standing on the white, soft sand and around was an aquamarine ocean. It was the most beautiful place on earth, and it was hers.
The sound of the ocean was all there was to hear, and Hermione closed her eyes when she saw the two figures on the sand, in the shallow waters.
She couldn't fast forward a memory even though she so desperately wanted. She knew it was possible—Voldemort hadn't spent nineteen years watching hers—but Hermione didn't know how to.
Yet.
Soon, she'd find out how, and she knew she'd use the knowledge.
There was no need to see heaven in details again to understand that you were in hell.
"Aahh …"
A loud moan escaped Hermione from the memory, and the real Hermione shuddered when her eyes focused on the arched back and the hungry lips around the erected bud.
"When you let go of your prejudices and barriers, I will show you what pleasure really means. But I will give you a small taste of it for your outstanding academic performance."
Hermione hated how Marvolo had always managed to keep his voice levelled, controlled, even in situations like now, when he pleasured her with his tongue and lips, bringing her to a shattering orgasm.
Hermione could only watch Marvolo and her double—just naked and happy—kiss before he got up —naked —and carried Hermione into the waters, a bit deeper, holding her tight to him with both arms.
The real Hermione preferred to stay on the shore, pretending not to watch it, but knowing what was about to come made her all hot and bothered.
"Do you trust me now, in this moment, in regards to your safety?"
The question had been a shock to her then, but now she actually appreciated the gesture.
"Yes."
It sounded weird, but she didn't even question it. She trusted Marvolo, and she didn't trust Voldemort.
And he was Marvolo.
Hermione couldn't see closely, as Voldemort was in the waters up to his waist, holding her body by the hips.
"Feel, Hermione. Let go and feel."
And then his magic froze water above Hermione's head as she was submerged under the surface.
An exceptionally hard stroke made Hermione almost open her mouth to scream, but she found out she couldn't.
'Relax.'
With a jolt, Hermione realised her body was controlled by the Horcrux, but she was feeling everything as if it were her own; the hard rhythmical strokes and the elegant hands, gripping her hips, drove her wild.
Magical, lightly electrical waves suddenly entered her every pore, and Hermione wailed silently from pleasure. The magic was now gathered around sensible bud of nerves, squeezing it just like she liked, the ice above on her breasts felt incredible, and the fact that she was starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen did not help matters.
'Feel our magic.'
It was hard to hold her breath, and Hermione started to feel nervous again when suddenly she saw stars as his magic became hers as well.
The Hermione on the shore thought about how she screamed in pure bliss, not afraid to leave control over her body to the Horcrux, and how she felt then, when the ice disappeared and she was pulled up by two strong hands before her lips caught his, not afraid about needing air.
She didn't need to see their insane kissing after what seemed to be the most powerful orgasm she had ever had.
She was sick, and there was not much she could do about it. She was not going to tell it all to a psychiatrist, especially if the doctor in question was a woman she had seen today in Marvolo's presence.
The memory shifted, and Hermione found herself on the lounge, watching Marvolo lean into the chair with only a towel around his hips, and her double come out of the pool, stark naked.
Had she really no shame at all? Hermione thought, while looking at the lusty siren who was now removing the towel from Marvolo's lap and placing her mouth where she loved it the most.
A few minutes later, a very bothered and hot Hermione was in the swimming pool as she submerged under water to not hear the moans or think about the effect Marvolo was having on her even as a memory.
As she came up for an air, Hermione swam to the shallow end to lie in the waters as she waited for that memory to pass and be replaced with the main one she had wanted to remove.
Hermione was about to put her face into the water—and imagine she could feel it— when she felt a ghost of breath on her bared neck.
The splash had probably been real as Hermione turned quickly in the waters onto her back, lying on the underwater marble stairs of the pool, and as her eyes met red, Hermione screamed in surprise.
"Bored?"
The light smirk on the handsome face was so familiar that Hermione felt her heart somersault.
Hermione did not know what to expect, but a Horcrux visiting her memory wasn't one of the things she had awaited.
"Come, Hermione, get your bright mind out of the gutter and use it. We share a body, we share a mind, and we share magic. The fact that there is a barrier—" Voldemort paused and Hermione noticed he was wearing a black overall cloak, like he did when she saw him the first time. "—or used to be—" The smile on the handsome face was the same, but the eyes looked different; the curiosity and intelligence was there, but something was off. "—does not matter during a visit to a memory that I also possess."
Hermione wished he would lean away from her, but he was still squatting on the edge of the pool, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Get out."
She couldn't—and wouldn't!—get to the main version, but she would show her proudness and self-esteem to this part of the bastard.
She was Hermione Granger, and not a floor mat for feet wiping.
"Tsk, tsk. So rude. The spell to forward the memory is 'Memoria Advigo'. You may borrow my knowledge on how to use it."
What? Hermione managed to ask herself before suddenly, she knew how to forward the memory, and it felt like she had done it many times before.
She had not known she could borrow such knowledge!
Hermione was looking into the laughing red eyes, and the moaning in the back got an all too different quality.
Would she feel anything while being in the memory?
"Tempted to try?"
The white teeth were revealed in a naughty smile, and Hermione's heart was squeezed with invisible hand as she understood just how much she really missed him.
"I said 'out'."
Hermione could not believe she dared to tell Lord Voldemort—or a Horcrux of the Dark Lord—to get out, but she wasn't talking to Voldemort. She was talking to Marvolo, and they both knew it.
They both had hurt her, and Hermione could not hold her rage at him in any shape or form.
The water started to heat up, and Hermione jumped out of it, but not before the now boiling water scalded her left foot.
"Don't burn yourself playing with fire," the Horcrux said with serious eyes before disappearing.
Asshole, Hermione thought while touching the burned skin.
"Memoria Advigo!"
And the lounge disappeared to be replaced with a half-moon that hung over the cabin that was lit by small lights.
The knowledge on how to speed up the memory was gone again, and Hermione sighed as she sat into the chair, overlooking the bed.
She'd hear what he had said back then, and try to look at it with different eyes before removing it all together.
xxx
"Where did you study?" She heard her memory ask as she was sitting on Marvolo's lap, playing with his hair as he read some documents.
Hermione watched the pale-blue eyes look up from the papers and almost cried from the tenderness she felt in her heart as his nose slowly touched hers in an intimate caress.
"In many places."
Hermione saw her clone smile, and she had to smile at the pure happiness that radiated on her face just a few days ago.
She had been so happy then, sitting in his lap, kissing him and asking what she wanted.
"Where?" She saw the lick her clone had given the cool-smelling neck, and Hermione wished to trade places for a moment.
"Manasa, Holod, and Fenriswolf," Marvolo said with a light smile that made the real Hermione smile back as well.
"How many Masteries do you have?" Hermione in his lap asked as she caressed the black, silky hair lightly massaging the scalp, just like he liked.
"Five."
It still shocked her just how smart he was. He had photographic and eidetic memory, Hermione was sure.
Her clone nudged him lightly, and she saw Marvolo put away the papers.
"You promised to answer some of my questions," Hermione from the memory reminded Marvolo, and she saw the small sigh escape the elegant lips before her clone was turned in the lap, facing the pale-blue eyes now.
"Charms, Transfiguration, Necromancy, Arithmancy, and Warding," Marvolo replied with a raised eyebrow at the now gaping Hermione.
"And the Dark Arts?"
It had been a shock then, to hear that Lord Voldemort did not have a Mastery in his favourite branch of magic.
"I am not a Master of the Dark Arts. I am a Mage." The smile had been proud and lightly amused as her clone licked her lips from fascination.
"I have never heard about a Mage title in the magical world before. Who else has this title?" Hermione whispered with wide eyes, holding the relaxed gaze of usually penetrating eyes.
"Who do you think?" The light sneer told her all she needed to know.
"Albus Dumbledore." It wasn't a question but a statement. "But why had he never told anyone about it? Why was it not a known fact? I mean, he had so many titles, so why not add a title of a Mage of the Light Arts as well?"
Now, Hermione could understand the smile on the handsome face, but then, she thought he was mocking her.
"And who told you Albus Dumbledore was a Mage of the Light Arts?" The laughing voice made the clone freeze for a second.
"Mage of Transfiguration then?"
Well, she knew the possible answer even then, but she refused to believe it, so when he shook his head lightly, her clone shook her head as well.
"Yes, my sweet. Exactly that. Light and shiny Albus Dumbledore, who preached about how bad the Dark Arts were, was a Mage of the Dark Arts. Astonishing hypocrisy, don't you think?"
Hermione had told that to Harry when she ran to him after finding herself in her apartment instead of a courtroom, and the way Harry had reacted let her know that it wasn't something that could shock her friend anymore.
Harry hated Albus Dumbledore much more than he hated Voldemort, and that was the reason why now Harry was pretty close to the Dark Lord.
Their hate united them.
Harry had said that Voldemort was the only person—aside from Hermione—who had not lied to him about many things, and that he had been right all along.
Hermione pursed her lips as she watched her clone kiss the tender lips before getting up and picking the wine glass from the table before taking a sip.
"And who else?"
"Grindelwald had been a Dark Arts Mage, Viscal Pare, your Mind Arts teacher now, is a Mage of Necromancy, and there is another person who is a Transfiguration Mage in China. But that is all. Mastery in any Arts is an achievement on its own, but the title of Mage is almost impossible to get. That's why there are so few of us."
Hermione was listening to his calm voice, and if then she had been thinking how smart Marvolo was, now she was thinking in which branch she would get her Mage title. And that the father of the woman that was now in Voldemort's Inner Circle was a Mage, too. She still did not know how her lessons with the older man would look like, but she liked him more than she liked his daughter.
She'd show them all that her "inferior" blood did not make her any less smart than the rest.
"If you studied in Manasa, then why did the records don't show your name?" Hermione from the memory asked and the real Hermione was staring intently into the pale eyes, trying to find traces of lying.
"And which name had you been searching for?" She knew it was a topic that was better left untouched, but she was so curious, and his eyes didn't shine with rage then, so Hermione from the memory dared to say it out loud.
"Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort," Hermione said with held breath as the eyes turned to look at her, watching silently.
The slight smirk wasn't nasty, and as he got up from the chair, his bathrobe lightly hugging his body, Hermione smiled.
He hadn't lied then.
"Tom Riddle was a young, orphaned boy who only started to understand the power of his magic. Lord Voldemort is a master of every useful branch of magic, but there is one more name that fits the person who spent ten years studying all the branches combined," Marvolo said a light smirk, and Hermione from the memory was staring in shock again.
She still could not comprehend how it was possible to learn so many branches of magic simultaneously and in such a short amount of time. Five Masteries were supposed to take ten years, and a Mage title—now that she knew—six years on its own.
And instead of sixteen years, it took Voldemort only ten.
No wonder he went totally crazy, Hermione thought as she watched Marvolo drink from his own crystal goblet.
"Marvolo Gaunt." Hermione heard herself whisper and now, when she was watching the pale eyes closely, she saw a glint in them that made her heart stop beating for a second.
He was proud of her.
The Hermione from the memory wasn't looking at him now, but she was, and the light sincere smile and the proud glint in his eyes told her much more that she had expected—or wanted—to see. She needed to forget how sincere and open Marvolo could be when he wanted, but instead, she found something so rare that she wasn't sure she'd be able to forget it.
Marvolo.
xxx
Hermione made herself comfortable in her bed that didn't smell of the cool toxic scent, and as she closed her eyes after taking a Dreamless Sleep potion, she felt something slither from the dark corner of her mind, and then the memory she had removed from her mind was flowing over her in light waves.
'Let's try it one more time.'
The quiet laughter made her smash the alarm clock and the lamp in rage as the memory was now back in place.
I hate you!
xxx
a/n So…
How was it? Don't be greedy, share with me.
Thank you for reading!
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Two Steps From Hell