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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
- 25
- 26
- 27
Hi!
Thank you for the wonderful reviews and thoughtful, in-depth comments. You're amazing :)
Tori- I am sorry about your father. Definately correct assesment in regards to the emotional struggle that Hermione is fighting. And Bella...yeah, it's better not to piss off Voldemort ;) Thank you so much!
Sherlocked17- Thank you! I do use a lot of psychology in the story, and I find Voldemort's character every Psychiater's dream XD
m0nt- thank you! You're absolutely correct about jealousy. And let me just say I love Frank Underwood! I'd vote for him if he were real ;) I think this chapter will answer your question about Cara's role ;)
Please find a minute and review.
Beta: Serpent in Red
Two Steps From Hell
xxx
Horcux Mine
xxx
Chapter Twenty Six
Three minutes and he would come.
He was rumoured to be extremely punctual.
She couldn't meet him before without losing her dignity, but now …
Two minutes and twenty-one seconds.
She felt a tremor in her fingertips, and she knew she was nervous.
The newspapers in the neat stash on her mahogany table were full with photos with his refined face, and every time she saw his smile, she remembered how he smiled at her back then.
A half a year had passed, but she could not forget it.
She couldn't get over him.
Cara remembered the insane, crazy week that changed her life well. She was in love—truly in love—and now she had a very good reason to stay in her love's orbit, moving slowly closer and closer to the core.
One minute, Cara Pare thought as she took a deep breath and took an elegant pose in the Minister of Italy's chair.
She was a Minister now because Hermione had needed a powerful Legilimency teacher. Well, that was not the only reason, but it played a big part in her success, and Cara was truly grateful to the girl—young woman—who needed some serious time with a person—another woman was even better—she could trust.
Cara was a Psychiater and she was going to thank Hermione by truly trying to help her.
Psychiatry and politics were her fortes, and her Masteries were a proof to that.
Smiling slightly, Cara imagined how she looked in the large, regal-looking chair of Minister for Magic.
He will not run away this time.
The door to the corridor opened, and Cara saw the man she loved enter the large, spacey office in slow, steady steps. He had a dark-blue cloak on, and the rest of the ensemble was in grey and black.
He looked even better than before, Cara thought when her eyes landed on his tall figure, and her heart started its maddening tempo.
"Well, well, well … Cara." His pale eyes were watching her intently before slowly trailing over her face, neck, and the hidden breasts in the v-shaped white blouse with a raised collar.
Cara loved how she looked.
And she knew he loved it also.
"Hello, Lucius."
xxx
The long, black, straight hair that was as silky as it looked, even when put up in a stylish bun, and the green eyes were as captivating as when he had looked into them the first time.
The white teeth were revealed between plump, full red lips and Lucius could feel his member wake up and show interest.
Shit.
"The Italian Minister of Magic. You're doing well, I see."
She was here because of him, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the bright smile.
The one week that he had spent in France before the takeover was filled with meetings during the day and sexual magic during the night. They had almost not slept, going on Potions, as when he had seen her gorgeous body naked before him, Lucius could not help himself. The Dark Lord had been angry at him then, at the stadium before the Duel, because Lucius needed to concentrate on his work and not gallop in the nights.
But Cara was just too tempting, and that was why he had left her.
He left her in France, not even taking her as his Mistress, as Lucius did not trust himself with her. Cara was a smart, beautiful young woman, who enjoyed the same things he did, in and out of bed.
Pureblood and single.
And that was a danger.
Danger was wonderful as long as it was controlled, and the second the control escaped your fingertips, it became an unnecessarily extreme experience that Lucius did not need now.
Or later.
He wasn't going to change his life—his home—for one woman, no matter how good she was.
He had Narcissa, and while he was a cheater, he had never cheated like that, never spent more than a day with a new woman, until he had met her.
Cara Viscal had seen his darkest sides during that week, and she loved it.
He had no time to deal with his personal problems, especially when he had to deal with the Dark Lord who was enraged according to Andrea. Narcissa had some suspicions, and Lucius wasn't looking forward to the talk he'd have if Narcissa found out who it was.
And Cara was now the Minister of a country that was a part of the Magical Union, which meant they'd be seeing each other a lot.
How did she get the position? She wasn't an idiot, but a Minister was a bit too much, wasn't it?
The old Pare had done something to get his only—alive—daughter to skyrocket in their world without Lucius knowing anything, but what?
"You yourself don't look so bad. Had a good vacation?" Her voice was as calm and as warm as then, and Lucius shuddered inwardly when he remembered how it sounded when she screamed from pleasure and pain, in her naked glory before his hungry eyes .
The fact that she was a Psychiater—who had one of the best reputations in Europe—did not help him in the least.
What a predicament.
xxx
"What element do you prefer? Water, fire, earth, or wind?" Viscal Pare asked Hermione, who was sitting in a comfortable chair in the office of Mind Arts professor.
"I think wind. I like wind," Hermione answered after a second of consideration, and as she saw the professor smile a bit, she knew she had judged correctly.
Her affinity was Wind.
She thought it was Earth at first, but she was lighter. She loved to fly now when she wasn't afraid. She was quick, and she was silent when she needed to be. She could be a light breeze or she could be a raging tornado.
"Then we'll start building the barrier using wind and fire," Professor Pare took a seat opposite of her and raised his black wand.
"Relax and just watch." His voice was lightly accented, and for the first time, Hermione noticed that English was not his mother tongue. She knew he was French—and his daughter was half-French, half-Italian—but she had never heard the accent before.
"Legilimens!"
Hermione jumped from the chair when the old Professor was thrown against a wall, his back hitting the wall with a force enough for the wizard to fall onto the floor in the pool of his cotton robes.
"Merde!"
Hermione was torn between trying to help and holding in the laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Voldemort was a bastard, but his Occlumency walls were impossible to breach, and Hermione wondered how the old Professor planned on teaching her anything if he couldn't even enter her mind.
"I never understood how he built his Occlumency walls. He's doing it differently from others, and I cannot enter your mind without his help," Viscal said when he managed to sit himself into the chair with Hermione's assistance and was now drinking water from a tall glass.
"Please don't be scared, Miss Granger," the Professor said while raising his wand again, and before Hermione could even start thinking about the reason for Pare's request, she heard his voice again.
"I would really appreciate your help, you know. Your other self told me to address you, and so I'm asking you to lower the barrier. I cannot teach her anything when you hold the walls around her mind."
Hermione felt her lips purse when she wanted to open them instead.
Dracula.
She had to find a name for him, as "The Thing" wasn't to his liking and "Voldemort" was the main soul carrier, so the Horcrux was a Dracula now, with his black robes and red eyes.
"Losing your touch, Pare?" The smug voice belonged to Hermione, but she had never used intonations like that.
"We cannot all be all-powerful, can we? Unless you want me to try and rape her mind, then I fail to see how I can lower the wards without your assistance." The fact that her Professor was talking so casually to the Horcrux made Hermione question what else Viscal had been told by Voldemort.
The silence lasted a minute before Hermione pinched her right arm.
'Are you sleeping?'
Her left arm was suddenly smashed against the armrest, and Hermione almost wailed from pain.
'You pinch me again and I'll break your leg,' Dracula answered in his cold voice, and Hermione tried to hold back the angry tears.
It was her body!
Hermione could see Pare wince slightly, and then she heard herself speak again.
"I strongly suggest you filter what you watch, Viscal. The barriers will be raised the minute I find you snooping where you shouldn't be. Is that clear?"
Control freak, Hermione thought and had to wince when she felt a headache coming.
xxx
Her head was killing her, and Hermione buried it deeper into the fluffy pillows.
"Would you like a potion to help with the pain?" The warm voice was near, and Hermione could not believe she felt that comfortable in the presence of the woman she was supposed to dislike.
It had been weird at first to meet Cara Pare for a "session", but after two times, Hermione understood a few things which changed her perspective.
Cara Pare was a professional, and Cara Pare did not have anything with Voldemort. Hermione still refused to believe her reaction, but she had to admit that the relief had been great when Cara simply told her that there was nothing between her and the Dark Lord and that her heart belonged to another man.
The Confidentiality Oath and the fact that Voldemort would not be able to see anything they talked about—but Dracula could—helped a bit to relax on the beige, soft sofa in the warmly lit spacious room.
Dracula was brooding in his sad, pathetic corner, still inspecting the lightly shimmering barrier, and Hermione wished to just kick him out of her mind before stomping on his body, tearing his sharp, evil tongue with her bare hands.
'Dream on.'
"He won't shut up," Hermione whispered into the pillows, and she heard Cara sigh.
"My Lord, you instructed me yourself to start the sessions, and I am asking you to allow Hermione some time with me alone. Unless you wish for her to really snap, and soon." Cara was talking in a soothing voice, and Hermione almost cried in relief when Dracula simply slammed the door he had created shut.
"Thank you, " Hermione smiled at the beautiful woman as her mind was hers again.
Cara wasn't as bad as she had imagined, and the fact that now Hermione did not see the woman as competition— she did not say competition—made her appreciate many things about the kind Healer.
"I have already told you that it is me who has to thank you, Hermione." The smile was kind, and Hermione thought for the first time that maybe she could have a person whom she could trust as Harry wasn't very normal in his judgements now, and she had no one else.
xxx
"So it wasn't the Dark Lord who tortured your parents?" Cara asked with a frown, and Hermione shook her head.
"I see. And how do you feel about that?"
Hermione sighed as she picked up her tea and took a sip before answering.
"I feel torn. It is his fault that Bellatrix went after my parents, and she is his servant, but I cannot ignore the fact that he did try to help my father," Hermione answered sincerely, not trying to lie or hide anything.
It was her fourth session in two weeks as Cara had offered to extend the therapy time after their first talk, which meant that Hermione was closer to snapping than she had originally thought.
"Why do you think he tried to help your father?" Cara asked many uncomfortable questions, but the way she asked them made it easier to sort out her thoughts, and Hermione really appreciated the time the new Minister of Italy was willing to give her.
Hermione tried not to take it for granted, even knowing that the position of the Minister was now occupied by Cara Pare only because Voldemort didn't want to deal with Hermione's emotions but refused to teach her himself.
Lazy bastard.
"I really don't know. I cannot understand why Voldemort would try to help a Muggle," Hermione said the sentence and saw Cara wince slightly.
His name was even more feared now, and Cara had a Dark Mark on her smooth left forearm.
"Sorry," Hermione quickly added and was rewarded with a sincere smile.
"No worries, you can talk in any way you feel comfortable, the way you prefer. Do you know what happened to Bellatrix, Hermione?"
She didn't, so she shook her head in answer. Harry had said that he had not seen the crazy hag, and Voldemort wasn't talking to her—and she wasn't talking to him—so there was no way to find out.
If he killed her, Hermione would be pissed.
Death was too merciful.
"She was tortured so hard that it was a miracle she survived it, or so Rodolphus Lestrange had said."
Hermione told herself she didn't feel the pleasure at the words, and she definitely wasn't grateful to Voldemort for showing his vast amount of torture creativity on Bellatrix.
"So he let her live and destroy other people," Hermione spat out bitterly, and for a second, the small smile on Cara's face looked truly frightening.
"She's in Azkaban."
And Hermione's smile was even worse.
xxx
It was hard to read the text when all she could think about was the conversation with Cara. Hermione sincerely hoped that Voldemort would not find out how his new Minister called him when describing his emotionality and personality.
'Emotionally crippled, psychopathic genius with a complicated personality' was Hermione's favourite.
Cara had explained a lot during the two-hour sessions, and Hermione had started to really like the older woman. Cara was thirty-three, and she was really open-minded and never judgemental, which made the sessions something to look forward to. The Fidelity Charm that was placed during all the sessions really helped her to trust the woman, and the fact that Cara seemed to understand Hermione even without her needing to explain everything made it all the better.
The older witch answered any question Hermione gave her, even about her personal life, but never about the man she loved. Hermione had no clue who it was, but whoever it was, he was a lucky guy.
With a sigh, Hermione closed the book and looked at the clock. In two hours, she had to meet Voldemort, and she didn't know what she felt.
Two weeks had passed since she last saw him, and Cara's words were still ringing in her ears.
'You cannot choose who you love. You can only either accept the person fully, or not accept at all and suffer quietly then.'
xxx
The prison looked as gloomy as it had been the last time he came for a check, and the hordes of Dementors parted before him as he climbed the stairs.
While he couldn't create a Patronus, there were much more powerful spells that destroyed a Dementor instead of simply chasing it away, but there was no need for any of such measures as the creatures obeyed only him.
In a few minutes, Lord Voldemort was standing near the cell, looking at the comfortable bed on which Bella rocked back and forth.
Rodolphus had alerted him about Bella's condition, and that was why he was here now.
"Bella."
One word was enough for the Dark Witch to snap her head up and look at him with her insane eyes full of tears.
"Master!"
xxx
It was funny how she tried to catch the edge of his cloak with her trembling fingers, but now that the problem with Bellatrix's health was solved, there was no need to stay any longer when his little fierce Mudblood was already waiting for him in the Slytherin manor.
"Force feed her, if needed. You will cooperate now, won't you, Bella?" It was a rhetorical question, and both Bella—who couldn't get up from the floor—and Rodolphus—who was looking around in fear, no doubt remembering his time here—understood it.
No one refused Lord Voldemort when he asked with a polite Crucio.
"Yes, My Lord." Rodolphus wanted out of this place as soon as possible, but he had a wife to take care of.
He wasn't a babysitter.
"If you make me come here without a good reason one more time, you'll join your spouse in her vacation. Is that clear, Rodolphus?"
The bow was so deep that Voldemort had to hold back a smile.
It was good to be him.
xxx
A Fidelity Charm …
Now that was a good idea, and while it was interesting to find out what Pare Junior had been talking about with Hermione, it wasn't something that he couldn't live without.
He'd find out soon anyway.
Hermione looked much better than she had the last time they'd met—the orange, shuffling slippers would be forever imprinted into his mind—and Voldemort had to pat himself on the head for the brilliant plan.
Cara Pare would be the person who would show Hermione that there was no way to escape him, and that there was no point in trying to go against him in his own world. He needed her to show Hermione that she could become great only if she allowed him to guide her and that there was no way out of this situation.
Had things been different, Hermione would have probably given herself to the sorrow and other disgusting emotions fully, but not in the world where Voldemort controlled everything.
She would fly up, but only if she stopped whining and crying. He would be merciful with her in those years that needed to pass before Hermione reached her peak—and he could execute his plan—and he was looking forward to the return of the usually fierce girl instead of the broken shell he had seen the last time.
Voldemort did not want to see those pathetic emotions on that pretty face as he was actually afraid that he'd snap and break her fully. Or kill her.
His Occlumency walls had been raised to the maximum, and still, he had to take the Calming Draught a few times when he wanted to tear the girl apart because of the emotions he felt through their link.
He finally found a way around the sticky situation with her parents, and now it wouldn't take long before Hermione returned.
"Miss Granger."
She hated when he called her by her last name and he knew it. While at first, Voldemort wanted to keep her away for longer, he couldn't.
If the girl started to feel regret about everything she had done—which was nothing compared to what she would do later—then the surprise-effect of remorse would be smoothed out in the future and he couldn't have that.
And it was boring.
Harry was learning the Dark Arts under his tutelage, but Potter was Potter, and Hermione was Hermione.
She was already broken, and she already wanted to return to him, but her pride and foolish morals were standing in way.
And he had a lot of free time now.
Cara was the perfect candidate to ease Hermione's transition, to make her see the reasoning, and then he'd take over fully.
While at first, he wanted to play on Hermione's jealousy, he found the other approach better.
Hermione would help destroy many important people, all the while thinking she was helping for the greater good, and that fit his plans much more than a jealousy-eaten broken shell with pride and morals, sitting in her pathetic corner.
The agreement between him and Viscal had not been only about the tutoring of Hermione or Cara's Minister position that would enable her to get to Lucius. It was much more complicated, and it was confidential. The two women had no need to know what the men talked about.
"My Lord."
It sounded wonderful coming from her lips, and Voldemort fought with a smile that wanted to stretch over his lips at her pride.
Yes.
She could have called him Marvolo.
xxx
He looked so good when he wore purple that Hermione had to avert her eyes and stare at the fire in the fireplace.
She refused to call him Marvolo if she was Miss Granger; Marvolo was someone special, while Voldemort was just her guardian.
The fact that it was the same person did not help Hermione's mental separation.
"Are we ready to practice the Cruciatus Curse, Miss Granger?" The voice was smooth, and it was the glint in the pale-blue eyes that told her what she needed to know.
Hell, yes!
xxx
She had never been to Azkaban before, and Hermione was actually thankful for that as she heard the screams from the prisoners. The brutal winds attacked her from all the sides; she shivered and, momentarily forgetting herself, leaned into the familiar body.
Dementors were flowing everywhere, the atmosphere was simply horrifying, and Hermione closed her eyes as her face was now pressed into the silky vest.
She'd blame it on the Dementors.
Hermione was expecting many things from Voldemort—he could push her away and laugh or mock her in the moment where she needed to gather her strength—but she did not expect a tender touch on her back, as an elegant hand lightly closed around her, in a rare move of tenderness.
She did not think Voldemort was being tender with her!
"Sightseeing is off the program for today then," Hermione heard—and felt—the calm voice, and she fought with a stupid smile that almost made it to her lips.
The next second she felt the pull of Apparition that was unique, and then she was standing in the corridor with a horde of Dementors near one cell, but as soon as they Apparated in, the creatures silently flew away, lifting the heavy atmosphere by a tiny bit.
Hermione's smiling face was now turned towards the cell, and she was ready to greet the person she hated with all her heart, when her eyes landed on the figure on the floor of the cell.
"Tsk. It's astonishing how many cells there are here. It seems I picked the wrong one."
Hermione felt the tears in her eyes cascade down her cheeks as she watched Mister Weasley cry on the floor, unconscious. His body shivered as the Dementors flew away into the walls and disappeared.
"Let him go, please!"
Hermione turned around to face Voldemort now as she begged for mercy. She could not watch Mister Weasley—who had been nothing but kind to her—be destroyed like that, slowly and painfully.
"Miss Granger—"
Before he could say another word, Hermione finally looked into his eyes, and with resolve, she stated.
"Hermione."
The elegant eyebrow was raised lightly in question, and Hermione licked her dry lips before nodding her head in confirmation.
She wanted him to call her Hermione no matter if they were intimate or not.
"He will not be released from the prison, no matter what—" Voldemort paused before adding "—Hermione."
Marvolo.
"You're the Dark Lord. You can do anything. There are no rules for you," Hermione whispered, trying to hold back the tears that would only piss him off.
"I'm glad you finally see the light." The mocking in the tone was minimalistic, but it was there, and Hermione pursed her lips in anger.
"You say you're a merciful Lord. Then show me it. Release Arthur Weasley, please," Hermione begged, trying a different tactic, and she saw the slow smile appear on the tender lips.
He was standing only a step away from her, his tall figure relaxed and his head tilted to the right.
He was considering her request!
"You cannot have Weasley and Bellatrix, Hermione. You cannot steal all my toys when you sit outside of the playground, whining in the bushes." Voldemort smirked lightly and Hermione's breath hitched.
She wasn't whining, and she wasn't in the bushes, Hermione wanted to scream, but she understood what he meant.
"The playground is contaminated. It's not good for the health," she said, not believing she was sort of flirting with Voldemort in Azkaban while standing near Mister Weasley's cell, begging to let him go; but if she managed to spare the kind man the suffering, she'd beg.
She'd beg if it were for others, but not for herself.
"I will not let him go, but I can release him from the suffering. Or it might be more appropriate to say, you can release him if you so wish," Voldemort said after a few seconds, and Hermione had to lean onto the wall for support.
She had spent a year in this man's presence, and she understood him perfectly.
He was giving her the same choice as he had given Harry, and she had told Harry already that he had done the right thing. Hermione was many things, but a hypocrite she was not.
The smile was sincere as Voldemort offered Hermione her wand that she managed to drop from the shock.
Her fingers closed over the wood and touched his, sending shocks of pleasure down her body.
"We'll cover all three curses in one go. Isn't that wonderful?" Voldemort asked while still smiling, and Hermione's hand tightened around her wand.
"The Imperius Curse first, Hermione. Make him feel happy, for example," he offered with a light shake of his head, and Hermione had to wipe the tears from her eyes.
What kind of monster was she?
"I already told you that. There is no need for waterfalls when you're actually helping a person. Unless you decided to impress me and make the Weasley drown."
A sob almost left her lips, but the Occlumency she had learned allowed her to fight the emotions that wanted to suffocate her.
"If I see you cry, I'll cast the Cruciatus first. Myself." Voldemort tsked as he took out his bone-white wand.
"I need a moment! I am not a murderer like you!" Hermione screamed and she could still hear the echo in the halls when Voldemort raised his wand.
"No!" She jumped on him, closing the distance between them, holding his hand with the wand in a death grip.
"Hermione, Hermione. One month away from me, and you forget that I don't need a wand to perform magic." Voldemort's lightly amused pale eyes were looking into her frantic ones as he actually let her cling to him, holding his arm with one hand and the other gripping his vest.
"Give me a damned moment!" She knew he hated screaming when he wasn't causing it, but she couldn't help it.
"So emotional. Are you on your period?" The white teeth were revealed in a laughing smirk, and Hermione wished to kill him.
"Can you be quiet and let me think?" She asked, testing the waters with her bold statement.
He was "My Lord" less than an hour ago, and now she was telling him to shut up.
"Gryffindors. What is there to think about, Hermione? You either kill him or you don't. I don't have all day to spend near this cell, watching this pathetic human. You're the one begging to let him go, not me." Voldemort shook his head before stepping away from their close stand.
True words of one true psycho. Why wait?
She would deal with her emotions and thoughts later, when he wasn't making her mind tremble from all the feelings she was experiencing now.
She was a monster, too, but she was a good monster. She cared.
"Imperio!"
Mister Weasley got up from the floor, and his pale, sweaty face was now illuminated by a happy smile.
"Make him dance around the cell, so I could see how well you hold the control." Voldemort was near her, and his voice was lower than usual when he whispered into her ear.
"I will do no such thing," Hermione spat back before mentally telling Mister Weasley to twirl around, enjoying the warm sun and blue skies.
"Twirling around is not dancing, but it will have to do if you're being so difficult."
She wasn't the difficult one!
Emotionally retarded cripple!
Mister Weasley suddenly cried and started to bang his head against the metal bars, almost breaking his skull with the force of each slam, all the while scratching his face until only blood could be seen.
Hermione's horror-stricken face was turned to Voldemort as she met his now angry stare, and looking at his raised wand, she wanted to weep.
"No name-calling, Hermione. You don't want me angry, trust me," he said in calm voice, but Hermione could see he was close to "Arrival" on the frenzy-metre.
Mister Weasley started to twirl around again, looking with his bloodied eyes towards the ceiling, imagining the warm sun, and Hermione realised she had no choice now.
"Mister Weasley, Fred and George are waiting. They—" Hermione had to pause to gather her strength and not cry out loud. "—they'll meet you with one of their fireworks, so you won't be alone. You'll be free and happy," Hermione whispered with tears clouding her vision, and before she could think it over, she raised her wand and held it tighter.
Monsters.
"Avada Kedavra!"
xxx
The green light sped towards the Weasel, and Voldemort almost lost his control and attacked Hermione in the corridor. She would not forgive him if he used this situation for a reconciliation and fucked her in Azkaban, near the cell with a man that died from her own Killing Curse, so he had to hold his pleasure to himself.
There was something very wrong with all Gryffindors, he decided, as he watched his little talented witch open the cell and enter it, to close the eyes of Arthur Weasleys.
"Outstanding. I don't even know who did it better, you or Harry. We'll call it a draw for now."
What a good girl.
"Would you like to visit Bella now or would you prefer to see her another day?" He was being very considerate. He'd let Hermione return to Cara and Harry, who would make her see that she didn't do anything wrong.
Both of them.
There was no one left around his Horcrux who wasn't under his control.
Harry was his, Cara was his, Pare was his, Lucius was his, Ginevra was dealt with, and that left only one person.
Him.
However, it looked like he underestimated his fiery Gryffindor , Voldemort realised with a pleased hum.
He saw Hermione take a deep breath, and Voldemort's eyebrows rose on its own occasion when he saw her shining eyes.
"Take me to the bitch. Just try not to mix the cells again."
Well, well, well …
xxx
Looking at the woman who so brutally killed her innocent, beloved parents, Hermione raised her wand. She wished to cast the Killing Curse as well, but if Voldemort allowed her to visit Bella from time to time, she'd keep her alive.
"Enjoy it."
She heard the unsaid "my sweet", and Hermione smiled through the pain and horror at what she was turning into.
But if there was one Crucio that she could truly enjoy, it would be this one.
"Crucio!"
And pleasure clouded her mind as Bellatrix Lestrange screamed in pain, thrashing on the floor of Azkaban.
Feel my pain, Bellatrix.
xxx
She was sitting in the comfortable chair, trying to calm herself, and listen to the voices.
"Harry, I'll do my best, so please calm down and put your pills away." Hermione heard Cara's warm voice, and she was thankful for having someone she could trust.
Harry was his drugged self, all worried about the crying Hermione who was brought to Grimmauld Place by Voldemort himself.
She held it together before Voldemort had left, but after …
It was still unclear what kind of relationship she now had with the Dark Lord, but they were on speaking terms again, and life looked a little bit brighter if she could forget that she had managed to cast all three Unforgivables in one day and killed Mister Weasley.
Her conscious was suffocating her, and Hermione needed help before she snapped. Viscal Pare would deal with her Occlumency progress, and his daughter with her emotional mess. Hermione, for the first time, felt grateful to Marvolo who had given her a confidant who understood her.
Thank you.
xxx
a/n If you share your thoughts, I'd be extremely grateful.
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Two Steps From Hell