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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
- 27
- 28
- 29
a/n Hi!
Look who's here :)
This chapter was written before Monday- while I was still home in Germany- and that's why it's ready for you to read.
I am very busy here at my parents- if this is vacation then I'm Voldemort-, and I honestly don't know if I manage to write anything before my return home. Mom's laptop's layout is also very strange for me, so yeah...I think I will, but not sure.
I am extremely grateful to everyone who reviewed and made me a happy bunny :) The flight was great, and I am so thankful for your support.
Ice Empress- giggles. That was the idea ;) I wanted to show that it all depends on the POV, and I am glad you see Cara how I see her. And 100% about Hermione. She FINALLY starts to play on the same level as the rest of the mightly ones ;) Thank you soo much!
Ann- thank you! :) You see, even if I thought I wouldn't update, I did ;)
KatWilson- You are AWESOME! I was smiling like an idiot when I got your review! I actually understand Voldemort (and Lucius), and that maybe helps me write their characters. I don't think I'm very normal, but normal is overrated anyway XD Thank you so much!!!
Tori- you blow me away each and every time your review :) Thank you so so so much!
I really like reviews- who doesn't?- so yeah...let me know what you think about this chapter, ok?
So, after this chapter there should be...20 chapters more, I think? Or somewhere along the lines, as we are definitely not finished. We're just starting the real fun ;)
Enjoy it!
Beta: Serpent In Red
xxx
Two Steps From Hell
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Horcrux Mine
xxx
Chapter Twenty Eight
The twenty-eighth of July had arrived, and it greeted him with stormy, dark-grey clouds and brutal winds that could be especially felt high up in the humid air.
The forecast for the evening was even worse, but no matter the weather, the match would take place. The golden rule of the Quidditch finale would not be broken: to play in any weather and not cast weather charms to ease the conditions.
The rain would start any minute, and Harry felt grateful.
If he had to name one of his characteristic traits—a soul-deep instinct— then it would be survival. His sacrifices aside, Harry knew how to survive; otherwise, he would have died long ago in his loving family's care.
And now, to execute a plan which ended in his own death, was hard.
Harry took out his wand, and licking his lips, he cast the spell one more time.
"Avergario Sensa!"
A shadow appeared in the corner, and Harry was now looking at his Boggart, noting every detail of the figure standing before him, and he knew he needed to die.
Today he was going to give his last—final—attempt at saving the world from pain, the shining green eyes—on the cruel, oh so familiar face—promised.
He was looking himself in the eyes, and Harry shuddered before moving his wand up and left in a swish, making his biggest fear disappear.
He had seen enough.
xxx
"I really don't know what you're talking about. You need to stop imagining things, my dear."
She wanted to take one of the vases and throw it at him, smash it against his all-too-innocent face. She had allowed him a lot, recently especially, and while she wasn't amused by his sidestepping, she had never been worried before.
But with this woman …
She was beautiful, smart, had a gorgeous body—at least on the photos—enjoyed the same sex her husband did—the leather bondage and a knife between the red lips were shown well on the moving pictures— was single, and was pure-blood.
And Cara Viscal could have children, unlike Narcissa whose only child would be her Drakie. She just couldn't get pregnant anymore, no matter what she and Lucius had tried. The test they had performed a few years after Draco's birth confirmed Narcissa's worst fears.
She couldn't have any more children, but Lucius could. And Lucius had always wanted more children.
Her husband hated Arthur Weasley and his whole redheaded family, not only because of the feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys two generations ago. Lucius hated Arthur for having what he couldn't have. A perfect home, a perfect wife, a famous name, and overflowing vaults could not compare with seven children. Draco was cherished by both his parents, even by the normally strict and cold Lucius Malfoy, and even more so after they found out he would be their only child.
A divorce between a Malfoy and a Black would cause a major reaction from all the pure-blood elite families, and Narcissa knew that despite everything, Lucius did not want to remarry.
She would be Mrs. Malfoy until her death.
He wouldn't just leave her for another, and while Narcissa was confident, something was eating at her heart—jealousy—and she didn't like it.
"I hope my imagination would not repeat itself?" Narcissa asked, and she saw the moment where Lucius hesitated.
He hesitated for just a millisecond, but it was enough.
She could very well lose her husband to the younger woman if she allowed the impudent slut to lead the game.
Narcissa came closer to the man she loved most of her life and leaned down, kissing him on the surprised lips.
"I heard there was a rare sapphire bracelet for auction at Christy's. It would look good with the matching earrings and a ring. And I'd like to have them before I put on my dress for the finale."
Narcissa saw the widening of the eyes, and she read surprise on his refined face. With a smile, she left the room, not telling Lucius anything about the photographs she had received and hinting at the possible forgiveness that would be seen by the impudent wench at the finale.
You picked the wrong woman to mess with, bitch.
xxx
Hermione had a class in the morning, and the finale was scheduled at ten in the evening, so she still had time to decide how to go to the match.
She could go as Harry's friend and sit with Malfoy Junior and many other Slytherins; she could go as Hermione Granger and buy a ticket and sit somewhere, but the problem was that all tickets were sold. Even Cara couldn't help with the ticket, and Hermione considered the third possibility.
She would have the best view, Harry would circle around that lounge more than any other, and …
She'd see him.
She would sit next to him, to his left, and look out for the moment when Harry—that mad junky!—would fall.
And if she needed additional knowledge, the Hood was there for her to ask.
There was only one problem with the third option.
Voldemort didn't offer, and even though she knew there was still time, Hermione was starting to get nervous.
She still remembered the dream vividly, and Hermione had to raise her Occlumency wards to not think about what she had seen in her dream.
Her sick imagination was the reason for the dream and not some prophetic nonsense.
Leaning over the cauldron with the potion for today's assignment, Hermione tried to forget her dreams from last night: the white dress and everything associated with it. The biggest issue was to forget about the happiness she felt in her dream when she saw an elegant hand with a band on its ring finger.
Dracula was silent, and not even one comment was given. Hermione didn't know why she kept blushing even from the thought about what she had seen in the dream.
It was a dream!
A nightmare, if you wish.
Nonsense.
xxx
The waves were crashing on the rocks, and the wind howled.
Pale-blue eyes were looking at the waves, not blinking even once, letting the wind play with his black hair and dark cloak.
The lonely figure on the rock was pensive and silent, deep in his thoughts, not really caring about the rain that was about the start or the cold temperatures in the middle of the ocean.
A light sigh escaped the tightly pursed lips as Lord Voldemort tore his gaze away from the waves and towards the stormy sky.
Lightly playing with his bone-white wand, Voldemort closed his eyes before opening them again.
It was very complicated.
There were things he needed to do, but he wasn't sure he felt comfortable with some of them. He had never had another person near him; he had never had anyone who would be waiting for him to return in the evenings, even as a child. He didn't need anyone, and he preferred his own company to any other.
However, considering his plan, he had to give in somewhere, and he didn't like it.
Voldemort levitated a small rock before catapulting it into the air.
"Aquatico Abyssi!"
The water tornado was so huge that Voldemort had to take a step back to not let the twisting water fall onto his robes.
The spell was really good, and when Hermione finally got hold of her magical powers—the Dark Arts were the most powerful— she'd appreciate it, too.
She would be happy—very happy—and she'd rise high, and he was going to guide her to the very top.
But was he really thinking about this nonsense? It sounded ridiculous even in his own mind, and he wasn't going to voice this particular thought out loud.
He was going to corner his Horcrux today, and maybe then, ridiculous thoughts would leave his mind.
Enough games.
Voldemort created one more tornado, as he thought about what had started to bother him recently.
He hated everything Muggle-related, and the last name "Granger" screamed of it.
If Hermione was going to be great, she'd have to have a new name, and there were only two ways to change a last name for his little Horcrux.
And he most definitely wasn't going to adopt her.
What a dilemma …
xxx
Hermione was more nervous than she had believed was normal as she circled around her apartment. It was four o'clock in the evening, and in six hours, the match would start. It wasn't even Harry who bothered her the most now as Hermione would make sure nothing would happen to her best friend who was like a brother she had never had.
It was Voldemort that was making her heart beat erratically, and Hermione's hand reached out to take the Calming Draught. Even the air was full with anticipation and electrical charge that had nothing to do with the weather, and Hermione shivered despite the warmth of her apartment.
Opening the cork, Hermione lifted the bottle to her mouth and closed her eyes because the potion would be bitter, just like every other Draught she had taken in the last months.
A shriek left her lips when the bottle disappeared before she could drink it, and Hermione's wide eyes were looking directly into the pale-blue.
Her breathing became heavy, and it was hard to swallow, but Hermione refused to gaze away from the pale eyes with enlarged pupils that kept watching her silently from just a step away.
Voldemort had a deep-purple cloak on, with a purple-silver tie and a silvery vest. The black hair was styled back, but short strands were allowed to fall into his eyes, and Hermione so wanted to brush the hair away from his face that she had to squeeze her palm into a fist to stop the movement.
The seconds ticked by and turned to minutes, and she was still looking into the pale eyes she loved and hated, neither of them saying a word, the only sound being of the approaching storm.
Her insides were twisting with desire and anticipation, but Hermione refused to make the first step.
She knew that if her lips closed over his, then it would be much more than just sex, and the intensity of her feelings on that topic scared her.
Voldemort took one more step closer, standing now so close to her that Hermione could breathe in his scent, and she felt dizzy from the tension.
An elegant hand slowly rose and before it cupped her face, Hermione saw a flash from her dream where the same hand had a ring on it.
A sound close to a whine escaped her lips when she felt the hand on her chin now, tenderly touching her.
"When you spend so much energy on fighting me, you have none left for what really matters," Voldemort said in a slow, steady voice, but his tone was almost soft.
"I cannot not fight you," Hermione confessed, licking her dry lips and staring confidently into the smart eyes.
A small smile was now on the tender lips, and Hermione had to blink to remove the madness from her mind.
If Marvolo just touched her there now, she'd come instantly.
"Hermione, Hermione ... You are a strong woman, and even I respect that." The last part was almost a whisper, and Hermione had to bite her lip so hard she almost drew blood.
"You are fighting like a Gryffindor in the world of Slytherins, and that will bring you to a dead-end," Marvolo nodded lightly at the last word.
"Maybe I want that dead-end?" Hermione asked, looking directly in his eyes.
"Then you just have to ask." Voldemort smiled a bit at that, and she had to close her eyes.
"If you so need to fight, then do so as the Ravenclaw that you actually are. I am not your enemy, whether you like it or not. At least not anymore," Marvolo whispered with his head tilted a bit to the right.
The connection between them was suddenly opened, and Hermione had to take a deep breath when she realised he wasn't lying.
"Allow yourself to fly, and you'll see the world has much more to offer than pain and doubts."
Hermione's hand rose by itself and was now holding his hand on her chin, her fingers over his.
"You hate Muggles and Muggle-borns. You're a murderer and a psychopath. You are worse than any villain in any book. You're Lord Voldemort," Hermione said it all without a pause, without doubt, and without blinking, staring into the pale eyes.
Hermione didn't know why, but the thought that this man would surrender himself, at least a bit, drove her crazy with desire.
She was a monster who loved another monster.
"I hate Muggles, and I kill without hesitation. There is so much for you to learn, Hermione, to even try to understand me or my actions. I am a very bad person, and we both know it. But not with you, and you know that it's all that matters now." His voice was calm and quiet, and Hermione didn't know what to do.
"Are you going to do anything bad today?" Hermione asked, already knowing that the answer would be "yes". The Duel, the New Year's incident, and the trial had been enough to prove her point.
The smile was tender, or as tender as it could be coming from someone like the Dark Lord, and Hermione started to nibble her bottom lip with her teeth because otherwise she'd do something she promised herself not to do.
When a thumb touched her lip, Hermione could not stop a slow moan that escaped her, and with a spinning mind, she saw his pupils grow bigger.
"No."
What?
"'I beg your pardon'," Marvolo corrected her with a slightly-raised eyebrow.
"You're lying," Hermione started her sentence only to stop as she felt that he was again being honest.
Dear Merlin, let him better blow up the stadium because otherwise she didn't know what would happen, Hermione thought as he moved even closer, his nose almost touching hers.
"I am the Dark Lord, and you better not forget about it, Hermione, but even I can be nice." The gentle lips were now almost touching hers, and Hermione knew she would need to change her underwear.
"What do you want from me?" Hermione whispered into the lips, and she had to catch herself from falling from the onslaught of emotions by her hands on his chest when she heard the answer.
"Everything."
Hermione closed her eyes and leaned forward, closing the distance between them, her lips ready to fully touch what she missed so much.
He was giving in, and Hermione could not believe it turned her on, knowing who it was.
She, Hermione Granger, had a Dark Lord telling her he wanted everything she had to offer.
Hermione's lips almost touched the tender pink flesh, when she heard a loud bang from her left.
Voldemort turned at the same time as her to see what had caused the sound, and when Hermione saw his eyes flash red, she agreed with his rage.
Harry was sitting on floor, his huge eyes watching them, and Hermione blushed as she realised how they looked. Not that it would matter, if she also gave in, as then it wouldn't be a secret anymore.
"Oopsie …"
xxx
"I'll be there!"
Harry waved at her, and Hermione almost sneered from the rage, frustration, and anticipation, and she closed the window as Harry flew away on the same broom he flew in, disturbing the moment. Harry flew in to just say "hi", and Hermione wanted to smack his face for being the drugged idiot he was being now.
Harry flew away immediately after his crash in her apartment, and now she was alone with Marvolo.
She turned around to find Voldemort looking at the disappearing figure of his former nemesis and leaning slightly on the windowsill, and Hermione had to swallow her emotions to be able to breathe.
Hermione was afraid to say anything, as she didn't trust herself when it came to Marvolo, especially now, and so she cleared her throat, getting the attention she wanted as pale eyes turned to look at her.
"You have until the end of the match to decide. If you cannot decide until then, then we'll stop playing these games and I'll leave you alone," Voldemort said with a slight tilt of his head, and Hermione's heart stopped beating for a second.
The connection between their minds was still opened, and Hermione had to swallow hard when she realised he wasn't joking.
Voldemort was ready to leave, Hermione could see it, and when he turned away from her, she made her mind.
"Stay."
The pale eyes that returned to look at her were now red in color as Hermione closed the distance between them and caught the tender lips in a brutal kiss.
Mine.
Xxx
"… and then, I will fuck your little ass, my ginger."
Lucius had to close his eyes with a leather-gloved palm as he couldn't listen to Rabastan's whispers to the Weasley chit that sat on his knees, and he couldn't very well just get up and leave.
Narcissa and Cara were silently killing each other with their basilisk stares. The drunken Lestrange wasn't helping in his attempt at self-restraint as all Lucius wanted to do was some peace, but he couldn't have it.
When he was climbing the stairs to their lounge, he didn't imagine things to turn out this way.
He was in charge when the Dark Lord wasn't here, but all Lucius wanted to do was watch to the game in silence.
It was almost eleven, and the Dark Lord was nowhere to be seen.
The match would not start before he arrived, and that meant they all had to wait, no matter how long.
"Do you want to suck me now?" Lucius heard Lestrange ask before Rabastan's laughter was joined by Rodolphus's, who was leering at the drugged Ginny Weasley. The girl was now standing on her knees, her hands at the zipper of Rabastan's trousers.
"Lucius!"
Yes, that was his name.
What now?
"Lucius!"
Narcissa was hissing at him, gesturing at the moaning Rabastan and then at Draco, who was staring at the happenings in the Emperor Lounge with a hanging jaw.
And? It would be worse if his son didn't like it …
"Draco is watching. Stop this madness right now!" Narcissa's voice was quiet and cold, like the shining sapphires on her neck.
"Time flies so quickly, doesn't it?"
Lucius heard the warm voice, and he wanted to groan and slam his head onto the railings. It was almost like in France before the Duel, only worse.
Shut up, Cara!
"I beg your pardon?" Narcissa asked in a voice that could freeze the whole planet, and Lucius felt a headache coming.
"Aaaah, fuck!" The sucking noises became so loud that Lucius cast a quick glance at the Weasley girl.
Was she that good?
Hmm …
"I said, time flies, doesn't it? Your child is small and needs protection, but then almost twenty years had passed, and you don't even notice it when he's a grown man who needs to see the world with his own eyes." Cara's voice was smooth and polite, but the mocking in her tone was there, and if Lucius could hear it, then Narcissa would also.
Lucius could do nothing when a small smile graced his tightly-pursed lips.
He loved catfights.
"Yes, definitely. It flies especially fast when there is no child to measure it. Doesn't it?
Ouch, Lucius thought as he imagined Cara's reaction.
"Aaaargg! Fuck yes!" Lestrange screamed before pushing the girl away.
Lucius almost shouted with him, when he saw the Dark Lord Apparate onto the tribune with the Mudblood who looked so ravished that Lucius had no doubt what his Lord had been doing all this time.
Hermione then.
xxx
She knew that her screams of pleasure could be heard in the whole Venice, and she didn't care as she ravished the tender lips, her soul singing in euphoria.
He had taken her three times, and their energetic sexual activities lasted over five hours, and when Hermione remembered the time, it was ten-thirty already.
"The finale!" Hermione breathed out as an exceptionally hard stroke made her see stars.
"Ours first, they can wait," Marvolo whispered before devouring her lips in another insane kiss.
Yes, they would wait.
xxx
Hermione sat into her comfortable armchair and looked around, noticing the full tribunes and empty ground where the players should be.
Everyone on the impossibly full tribunes was waiting for the match to start, and Hermione blushed when she thought as to why they all had to wait.
Nice, Hermione thought as she took in the large balcony where only a few people sat.
The front row had only six chairs, and five were occupied.
Narcissa, Cara, Lucius, Voldemort, and Hermione were seated in the huge, comfortable armchairs, and there was an empty seat next to her. Behind the first row, there was the second, where the Lestrange brothers—and Ginny!—sat, and she also saw Draco there with Pansy and Blaise with Daphne, Yaxley, and Rookwood a bit to the side.
She wanted to talk to Ginny, but she could not do so with so many people around.
She'd visit Ginny at Hogwarts.
Marvolo wouldn't mind, Hermione thought while looking at Ginny who sat quietly on the ground, before Lestrange's chair, like a dog.
She hoped he treated her well …
Hermione couldn't understand who else was missing—one insane bitch was accounted for in Azkaban—and she leaned close to Marvolo to ask.
"Who would be sitting next to me?" Hermione whispered, her body turned fully towards the person she was addressing. The lips that did incredible things to her body less than an half an hour ago were near as Voldemort leaned closer and whispered into her ear.
"Who do you think?" And then he nodded at the ground that was filled with players now.
Hermione shivered from the hot breath in her ear and then smiled as she understood what it meant.
The seat was for Harry, and that meant Harry would not be allowed to die today, no matter what.
She felt more confident when Voldemort's and her intentions matched, Hermione admitted to herself and leaned back into the comfortable chair.
Her wand was clasped firmly in her right hand which was on the armrest, close to him.
Hermione tried to fight it; she tried not to give in to the temptation, but she couldn't. She was curious and she was in love. Sometimes, when she allowed herself to forget for a moment just what kind of monster Marvolo really was, she was the happiest she could ever be.
She was doing exactly what she shouldn't be doing; she was giving in to the temptation of knowing for sure an answer to the question so many other people asked. There were so many other women—and men—who gave in to ultimate seduction and now Hermione wanted to ask herself.
She knew she would never change him, but could she be the only one who he would care for? Could she make him, well, if not love—it was Voldemort with his endless supply of Horcruxes she was talking about—but maybe care as much as he could.
Could she make the Dark Lord really care for her to the extent of allowing changes here and there?
Maybe even free Ginny, Harry, Ron, and the Weasleys.
Could a bad boy have one soft spot, and that spot would be for her?
Hermione smiled at the figure in green robes and took a deep breath.
She was ready.
xxx
Harry was waving from his broom, dressed in the color of his family line, and he wanted to laugh.
If only Dumbledore had been here to witness his glory with one Gryffindor to his left and the other waving in greetings in the air.
Alas, Dumbledore was now dead, and he couldn't gloat at the old coot, but he still made a mental nod at the imaginative figure with long beard.
Look, Albus, look.
Slightly turning his head, Voldemort took in the woman to his left.
She definitely wasn't a girl.
And now, she was his.
Watching the eyes that were glinting in the darkness, Voldemort squinted his.
He would give it a try, and he'd see it once for himself what it all was about. He'd have a relationship with his own Horcrux—he was a control freak—and he'd find out what drove people like the Pares, like Severus to take such drastic measures.
It would be the only time he'd allow another person to share his space and time and whose interests he'd have at heart—if he found one—while trying not to smother her strong will with control.
He'd let her take control here and there and see what happened.
And then, when he'd see it all, when Hermione would be ready, he would make her feel the remorse and pull the Horcrux into him.
The one from Nagini would go to Lucius, but Hermione's he would keep to himself.
As a memory of the good times.
A token of love.
xxx
He almost choked on his saliva as he saw Granger lean towards the Dark Lord—the Dark Lord!—and whisper something to him.
Draco had to lick his lips as he saw the Dark Lord lean closer, whispering something back.
Merlin's balls!
Granger had somehow managed to climb the ladder, and Draco wondered who was she now?
First, it was his uncle with the Weasley—he was still embarrassed, to be honest—then it was his mother and the new Minister of Italy spitting venom at each other, and now Granger and the Dark Lord were an … item?
Draco had to shake his head to clear his thoughts and watched Potter race in the air, maneuvering like a lightning between the players despite all the drugs.
Twenty minutes into the game and the Cannons were leading ninety to forty, and Draco wondered if Potter would really catch the Snitch like his uncle had betted.
The majority of the tribunes were clad in green—Chudley Cannons' colours were gold and green now, instead of orange—and Draco liked it much more.
He was about to lean back and order a glass of cold MagiCola when Draco saw Potter fall.
The scream of the tribunes was ear-splitting, and before Draco could even realise what was happening, he saw Granger get up and point her wand at the falling figure.
"Vertu!"
An invisible hand pulled at his arm, and Draco's widened eyes saw Potter slow down and flow in the air before landing on his two feet and falling onto the ground in a fit of mad laughter.
What was that spell?
xxx
The command of the Postulatio Auxilium …
Well, well, well …
Hermione—definitely not Miss Granger—was full of surprises, Lucius thought as he watched Potter look at their tribune before the boy laughed out loud again in the silence of the tribunes that only watched.
What was so funny?
A pleased smile graced Lucius's lips as he thought about the won million.
Potter did fall, and had it not been for the Mudblood—H-e-r-m-i-o-n-e—he would have died.
Lucius even cast a pointed look at the younger Lestrange and smirked at the pissed face he saw.
Don't bet against a Malfoy, Rabastan, Lucius drawled in his mind and smiled when he heard the voice of his Master.
"You should be more careful, Harry," the Dark Lord said in a calm but laughing voice which could be heard around the stadium, and Lucius saw mirth in the pale eyes that were trained directly into Potter's wide green.
It did sound funny, coming from the person who had tried to kill the boy multiple times within the last eighteen years.
Potter seemed to read something else in his Lord's eyes as, suddenly, he nodded and smirked.
"I will," the boy said and seared into the night sky, illuminated by magical light.
What was that about?
xxx
If fates wanted him to become who he was most afraid to become, then so be it.
It was funny that it had been Hermione who again managed to pull a wrong card, and his little built house of cards crashed, burying the old, sane Harry under its weight.
He needed to be there for Hermione, who now seemed to have crossed an invisible line with Tom, and Harry knew that now he himself wouldn't resist long.
Well, not in that way …
He loved the Dark Arts, and Voldemort was a Mage, so it was logical for him to be drawn to his once most hated enemy, Harry thought with a frown, as he had lost the Snitch from his view.
The rain wasn't as hard as predicted, and the wind was calming down.
He had fallen. He had opened his arms and allowed himself to fly down, and during that second before Hermione shouted the stopping spell, Harry thought about what he had achieved in his short and painful life.
Nothing.
But that was old Harry, the one who was naïve and stupid, and now that Harry was under a house of cards that was too heavy and unstable from all the added ones here and there.
And now, it was time for the new Harry to emerge. It was time to put away his prejudices and old fights and look at the world with eyes wide open.
Harry closed his eyes for the last time after allowing the old Harry to see the night sky before he opened them again, and with a mad laugh, he sped up after the Snitch he had just seen.
Watch out, here I come!
xxx
"Harry Potter catches the Snitch! Chudley Cannons win the World Cup Series 1999!"
The screams were earth-shattering, and Ron closed his eyes to not watch his once best friend high up in the air with a golden fluttering Snitch in the closed fist that was thrown up in the air in the gesture of victory.
Ron felt tears in his eyes run down his pale cheeks, as he looked at Hermione.
Hermione was standing in ovation, shouting "Harry, Harry, Harry!" and clapped while jumping up a bit in her celebration. A spasm caught his throat when Ron saw her leaning down to the sitting Voldemort who was also clapping and whispering something into his ear.
The small smile on her face and his nod in response felt like a sledgehammer thrown against his heart at the intimacy he could see even from here.
Ron was standing below, in the small, crowded, cheering room of the lower staff, but his gaze was directed above, where people lived and not existed.
Harry, Hermione …
xxx
The silence was always so welcomed. There was no need to hear the bullying—attempted, but failed, miserably—from the older children in the orphanage; there was no need to listen to teenage voices at Hogwarts that always surrounded him, and there was no need to harken the snivelling tones of his Death Eaters.
Voldemort almost winced at the earth-shattering screams that were coming from the full tribunes, and he wished for some silence.
Silence.
And now, he had to share it. He had to spend more of his time with his Horcrux as he had a lot of work ahead, and Voldemort looked at the woman who was jumping up from time to time from the excitement.
There she was, clad in a beautiful green dress—not that short though—and he could still smell sex on her, and she looked so thoroughly satisfied and ravished that a small proud smile made itself on to the Dark Lord's lips as he saw the looks from the Malfoys and Pare.
He was good at everything.
He intentionally didn't give her much time—you don't need a watch to know the time—and as she was ready, all clothed and pretty, he fucked her again.
Hard and fast over the table, near the entrance, he took her from behind, holding her hips in tight grip and slamming into her soaking wet heat, indulging her low, lustful moans to raise in volume before Hermione screamed and shattered around his cock.
Voldemort had to admit he rather liked those sounds.
He liked that every moan that left her lips was genuine and that she wasn't trying to hide her pleasure, and maybe, he'd be able to tolerate it for some time.
He was patient when he needed to be, and Hermione would shape beautifully.
It was a pity, but Lucius had more to offer .
He would choose, select those people who would be running his empire for him—he needed managers—and then he'd create a Horcrux for each.
Three Horcruxes.
His research showed him that his mind started to lose its sharpness after the fourth Horcrux was created. So three was the maximum he could create without damaging his again-sharp mind, and with Lucius being a perfect candidate for one, that left two.
Voldemort still hadn't seen anyone really worthy, and the only other possible candidate didn't fit the criteria.
Was he Dumbledore who took everyone in or was he the Heir of Slytherin, the Dark Lord?
Hermione was a Mudblood.
And Moaning Myrtle was only an example of what happened to so many Mudbloods who had found themselves in his presence. There had been so many that he had lost count, and he was only counting those who had been cursed by his own wand.
If he added those who had been destroyed by his followers …
He was really bad.
xxx
a/n Giggles...I bet you expected something else ;) So now everyone is where they should be, and the play can start.
Anyhow, hope you enjoyed it, and your feedback is greatly appreciated. Waves!
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Two Steps From Hell