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The Dragon Chronicles	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this.

Chapter List
- 28
- 29
- 30
Happy NaNo-month!!! I hope I will be able to completely finish the Dragon Chronicles this month. It's mostly finished, but it has some key scenes left. There will be 31 chapters + an epilogue so it's not much left! You have all been very patient and I appreciate all your reviews so, so much!
Enjoy!
Chapter 28
Harry Potter and one of his best friends, Ron Weasley, had been in Romania together with Charlie Weasley for three months, learning the tricks of the dragon keepers trade. They had gone there, hoping to get help from Charlie and his colleagues to stop Voldemort and his dragons. It hadn't taken a lot to convince them to help.
“We don’t just help keeping dragons from wizard, we make sure that wizards doesn’t exploit dragons,” Charlie had explained the first night they were there. “Over a thousand years ago, there was a treaty signed by most countries in Europe, Western Asia and Northern Africa to stop using dragons in wars. They almost became extinct because of wizard like You-Know-Who using them for their own purposes. And that would have been bad.
“Dragons are an important part of our magical eco-system. Just think what would happen if we didn’t have the Dragon tears potion for Bumblecubs disease, or how dragon fire is necessary for several other magical animals and plants to grow. That’s why we signed an agreement to create laws against dragon bonding and our profession – dragon keepers was created instead to breed dragons and make sure we could co-exist.”
But no one had tried to bond with a dragon in several hundred years, and it had taken Charlie and his friends some time to find the right information on how to stop such wizards. About a month after Harry and Ron came to the dragon keepers’ headquarters, the keepers discovered old scrolls in Egypt. Of course, it wasn’t as simple as just barging in and take down Voldemort.
“What do you mean you are talking to the Aurors?” Ron shouted to Charlie when he came to join them late one afternoon.
Charlie grimaced. “Since You-Know-Who and Hermione are only acting in the United Kingdom, it’s up to law enforcement there to press charges.”
“But You-Know-Who is the law enforcement,” Harry argued. He didn’t like calling Voldemort that, and even though the taboo shouldn’t be in effect in Bulgaria, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“It’s bureaucracy,” Charlie said with a sigh, sitting down in the single bed closest to the door. “But we dragon keepers are aware of how dangerous this is and will work to stop him. That’s why a lot have gone back to their home countries to force their politicians to take actions. If the Ministry doesn’t act, it could lead to war. But we must get more countries in on it.”
Harry hated to just wait. The only good thing was that the dragon keepers had agreed to teach their spells to Harry and his friends. Because they were taking in more and more refugees from Britain. Dobby had sent words to the house-elves he trusted that everyone looking to escape Voldemort could find a safe haven among the dragon keepers in Bulgaria.
Bill and Molly had arrived first, together with Fleur and her baby. Arthur was still held in Azkaban and Fred and George was kept under close guard in their store in Diagon Alley. Ginny was at Hogwarts, but Harry trusted that Hermione could look after her, and the baby that had started to grow inside Ginny (which scared Harry almost as much as the dragons did).
More and more of Harry and Ron’s old classmates showed up. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Padma and Parvati Patil showed up lead by Luna Lovegood.
Remus Lupin came with his extended family as well as a handful of werewolves who didn’t want to live under Greyback’s rule. Lupin’s wife, Tonks, also brought a few Aurors and other Ministry personnel that didn’t want to work in Voldemort’s Ministry.
There wasn’t a lot of members of the Order of the Phoenix still alive and free, but those that were had all joined Harry in Bulgaria by the time Christmas came knocking.
That was also when Charlie finally brought them the news they had all been waiting for.
“A collective of forty governments have sent the British Ministry a demand to arrest everyone who is bonded to dragons and make them face justice, or the United Magical Nations will send in forces to bring them to the International Court of Justice in Haag.”
Cheers broke out in the dining hall where most of refugees as well as the dragon keepers were having lunch. Everyone broke into excited talk over the tables, guessing on how the Ministry and Voldemort would react.
Charlie, however, hurried over to Harry and Ron who were sitting together with Seamus, Dean and Luna.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked immediately. He already had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“They are looking to bring in both You-Know-Who and Hermione,” Charlie told him in a low voice.
“No!” Ron cried and slammed his fist against the table.
Harry’s stomach sank. “We knew this would happen, Ron. It’s the only way other Ministries will agree to help. At least it will take her away from him and then we can speak in her favour.”
Charlie nodded. “It has to be like this for now. One problem at a time.”
“Who is the United Magical Nations sending?” Dean asked, having followed their conversation on the other side of Harry.
Charlie grinned. “Isn’t it obvious? Us!”
xxx
After a few days of rest, Hermione demanded to go back to work. If nothing else she needed to oversee how many students were going to leave Hogwarts that morning for the winter holidays and find out how many would stay.
Voldemort agreed to leave her alone for a little while. He had to go to the Ministry for a few hours.
That made Hermione very relieved. She wanted to see if she could still talk to McGonagall, but through telepathy. She didn’t want to risk Voldemort overhearing her, or see it in McGonagall’s mind.
The deputy headmistress was already in the office when Hermione entered. She gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth when she saw Hermione.
Hermione sighed, knowing she had seen the evil-looking purple scar going vertically over her throat. She would have to start wearing scarfs when she was in public.
“My dear child,” McGonagall said, rushing forward to her and, to Hermione’s great surprise, embraced her.
Hermione was touched by the older woman’s action, but quickly blinked away the tears that were threatening to start falling. She didn’t have time for disperse. She had to test her theory.
Like when she was talking to Kara, she focused her mind outwards. But instead of entwining with Kara, she focused on McGonagall. It helped to have physical contact, she realised.
Can you hear me? Hermione mentally asked.
McGonagall shrugged away in surprise, staring down at Hermione. “But he said … he said that he had made your mute. Did he lie?”
Afraid not, Hermione said, holding onto McGonagall’s arm. If I talk out loud, you won’t hear it. But there is nothing stopping me from speaking to you in your mind.
McGonagall was gaping. Then a sly smile spread over her face. “You always were one of my best students.”
Hermione blushed at the praise. Yes, well, I don’t know how secure this is. He can hear when Kara speaks mentally to me and it’s possible he hears me too. So I won’t try this in his presence unless I need to.
McGonagall nodded. “Is that how you came up with the idea?”
Hermione nodded. During her confinement, she had been reading up on the Dragon Chronicles to find out how their mental talk worked. There was one witch who had found a way to make everyone hear what her dragon thought. She had invented a device which broadcasted the mental talk out into the open like a megaphone. It didn’t describe how she had done it, but Hermione was certain she would be able to create something similar for herself.
After they had taken care of Voldemort, of course. He would only destroy such an attempt otherwise.
They sat down and McGonagall informed Hermione of which students would stay and who would leave. As Hermione looked at the list, she started to sense a pattern.
Only student off age plan to stay during the winter break. From Gryffindor and Hufflepuff mostly, she said to McGonagall.
McGonagall arched an eyebrow, looking at the list. “Well they are the ones who can’t go home because their families are on either on the run or in prison.”
She wouldn’t meet Hermione’s eyes and that’s when she knew. The Order was planning on doing something during the winter break, when most of the students were away and couldn’t get hurt. The ones that stayed planned on fighting.
Relief flooded through her body to such a degree that she sank back in her chair. It would be over soon. The train would leave in an hour and then they would have three weeks where a fight could be held. She would see Harry and Ron again.
The relief was followed with worry. There would be a battle. Of course it would, Voldemort controlled both dragons and Death Eaters. There would be casualties on both sides. Some of her friends might not make it.
She didn’t ask McGonagall who would be coming. Harry was pretty much a given and Ron would follow him. But who else from the Order? Which ones had they got contact with and which could fight? Secluded as she were, there were some people Hermione didn’t know if they were alive or dead. Where was Hagrid? Remus and Tonks? Did Teddy still have both his parents, or was he himself captured somewhere?
No, she couldn’t think about it. She had to focus on just surviving with Voldemort for a little longer. Needless to say, things were tense between them. He didn’t trust her at all anymore and she couldn’t even pretend to forgive him for what he had done to her.
“I will lead the students down to the train,” McGonagall said, getting up from the armchair. “No need for us both to go, you have a lot of work to catch up on.”
Hermione spent the rest of the morning catching up on some administrative duties. She asked a house-elf to bring her lunch since she still didn’t feel up to meeting the looks and whispers from the student and other teachers. The news of her muteness would spread to everyone soon enough.
A bit past noon, Voldemort came up the stairs, looking unhappy. Since he was the only one she could actually talk to, she had vowed to do it as little as possible. If no one else could hear her, then why would he? It was only fair.
However, Voldemort rarely stood for being ignored.
He came over to her desk and looked over her shoulder at what she was working with.
“Ordering chariots for the return of the students?” he snorted. “They won’t be back for weeks.”
She didn’t respond, just continued to calculate how many they would need.
“I have more important things for you to do, come with me,” he ordered.
She sighed. It was futile to fight him, but she still took her time, cleaning her quill manually and making sure the ink bottles were properly closed before slowly rolling up the scrolls.
“Do you want me to put it all on fire?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.
She rolled her eyes, and used her wand to move the scrolls to their correct place.
Without a word, she walked past him and down to spiral staircase to their living room. But when she was halfway down and saw what he had done to it, she froze.
“What’s going on?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Their lounging area had disappeared and in its place, someone had started to paint runes on the floor in a circle. They were of a dark red colour and Hermione had the horrid suspicion that it was made of blood.
That wasn’t the most worrisome thing, though. A woman stood kneeling by the fireplace, clad only in a white tunica and her hands bound behind her back. She stared at Hermione, fear shining from her eyes, silently pleading Hermione to help her.
Only one time before had Hermione seen that look on the woman’s face, but unlike that time, she didn’t stand idly by. Instead, she rushed forward and was only stopped by Voldemort grabbing her from behind.
“None of that, now,” Voldemort purred. “Mrs Umbridge has asked to be here, vowing to do whatever I wished, the faithful servant that she is.”
“What are you planning to do with her?” Hermione asked, her belly in a knot of worry.
Voldemort let go of her and came around to look her directly.
“It is time for the ritual,” he said, confirming her fear. “I have received some bothersome news and if we do not do this now, I fear that you will die.”
He grasped her chin, making her look at him instead of Umbridge. “The ritual demands a sacrifice and it will be stronger if the sacrifice is someone who wished to see you dead. However, it will work with anyone, and if you try to sabotage it, I will bring Miss Weasley up here instead.”
Hermione swallowed. No matter how much she loathed Umbridge, she didn’t want her to die like this. Being severely tortured and locked up in a cell, sure, but not die for Voldemort’s benefit.
Because no matter how many time Voldemort claimed that this was done for her safety, she was certain that he would benefit from it more than she would. She just didn’t know how.
“There must be some other way to protect me,” she tried to reason. “You are a knowledgeable wizard, surely you must know of some spell, potion or artefact that would work?”
“Of course, but only the best is good enough for my wife,” Voldemort answered, amused. “Now give me your hand, I need a bit of your blood to finish the circle.”
Hermione looked down at the runes on the floor again. So, she had been right in assuming it was blood. Was it his or someone else’s? Umbridge didn’t seem to be bleeding, but then again, he could have healed a shallow cut easily.
Voldemort went to the table standing by the wall next to the fireplace. She didn’t notice what he did there, her focus had once again turned to Umbridge. He must have put a silencing spell over her, because Umbridge’s lips were moving even though no sound came out.
She was pleading Hermione to let her go, that much was clear. Should she? Hermione couldn’t decide. She believed Voldemort when he said that he would bring Ginny here if she was difficult and as much as she hated the thought of someone dying, she rather it be Umbridge than anyone else.
But could she really go through with it?
“Give me your hand, Hermione,” Voldemort ordered, stepping in the way of Umbridge.
He was holding a silver dagger in his right hand and a small silver cauldron in the other.
Hermione turned her hands into fists. “Why are you really doing this? I don’t believe it’s just for my benefit.”
“Now, Hermione,” Voldemort said, his voice hardening.
“Tell me,” she growled.
They glared at each other for a few seconds, then Voldemort sighed dramatically.
“What difference does it make? We both know that you will do it because you will not risk your friend’s life. I made you a favour by taking someone you loath. Believe me, I had a lot of options. You are a Mudblood with power and many people despise that. At least you know that Dolores here deserves it.”
Hermione glanced at the woman again. She was shaking her head violently, silently screaming.
“I want the Death Eaters gone from Hogsmeade,” she finally said. It was obvious that she wouldn’t be able to refuse participating in this sick ritual. Therefore, she might as well try to get something out from it. If she was right, Harry would be coming here soon to challenge Voldemort and then it would be easier if there weren’t thirty Death Eaters in the way.
“And I want every student who has a parent or sibling in Azkaban visitation rights. They can visit them at Azkaban once a month, and there won’t be any Demetors close by when they do.”
Voldemort regarded her for a few seconds. “I will lower the number of Death Eaters in Hogsmeade to ten during the week and twenty-five during your ‘family-meetings’-weekends. The students will be allowed to visit their parents or siblings if they are only charged with minor crimes, such as stealing magic but not if they are conspirators. They may only choose to see one relative, once a year.”
“Five during the week and twenty during Hogsmeade weekends, and the students will get to visit their ‘conspirators’-family members under supervision from a human guard, every quarter of a year.”
“Ten during week, twenty during Hogsmeade weekends and the students can visit once a term if their family member is there for lesser crimes, and once a year if they are there for more severe crimes.”
“Fine,” Hermione finally agreed.
Voldemort sighed. “Then give me your hand.”
She held out her hand and Voldemort made a small cut with the dagger across her palm. As she began to bleed, he held out the cauldron, letting the blood drip into it until it stopped.
He banished the dagger and dug in his pocket for an ampule of Dittany. She accepted it and healed her wound while watching him circle his wand over the cauldron, mumbling something under his breath.
She stood with her arms crossed as he smeared the content of the cauldron onto the floor, completing the circle. At the same time, she tried her hardest not to look at Umbridge. Was this how Dumbledore had felt when he let people die for the greater good?
Once Voldemort was finished he put the cauldron on the table and came over to her again while starting to unbutton his robe.
“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, fearing the answer.
“Nudity is required,” he said. “Just be grateful that she doesn’t have to be.”
He made a gesture towards Umbridge.
Hermione rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes. “Are you expecting me to have sex with you? After what you did to me?”
“You will get caught up in the ritual,” he promised her. “You will not be able to help yourself.”
“Aha, like the last time I got ‘caught up’ by your Cure of Infidelity?” she asked.
He smiled. “No. The only effects for this will be that you are safe from many ills people want to subject you to. It will not alter our relationship.”
“Right,” she said, not believing him in the slightest.
But then, what choice did she have? Slit her own throat with the ceremonial dagger? No, she didn’t want to do something so drastic. Once the ritual was done, she would be able to look it up based on the runes he used and the sacrifice he had picked. She would be able to figure out a countermove then.
Slowly, she started to undo her robes, looking at the floor. The only thing she could do was hope that he was right and that she would get caught up in the ceremony. Because she didn’t want to have sex with him. The lust potion would make it pleasuring at least, and it was for the greater good. Just one more time, then she would never have to do it with him again.
Her hands were trembling slightly when she reach her underwear. Voldemort was already naked and noticed her struggle.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice softer than before.
Reluctantly, she did.
“When we step into the circle and have completed the sacrifice, it’s important that we don’t break it. It’s also important that you don’t make a sound while I chant. That means no crying.”
She scowled at him. “I wasn’t planning on crying.”
“Good,” he said, smiling. “But I can see that you do not want to do this. The ritual is stronger if you are stepping into the circle willingly. Therefore, I will sweeten the deal. The more … eager you are, the more Mudbloods I will release from Azkaban and put under house-arrest instead.”
Hermione gaped. “How many are we talking about?”
Voldemort looked thoughtful. “From five up to fifty depending on how well you preform.”
She stared at him for a few seconds before she snorted.
“What?” he asked, frowning.
“You are offering me payment for my services. I wonder how many prostitutes have freed people from prison as payment,” she explained, shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation.
“That is one way to look at it,” he allowed. “What do you say?”
It was motivating, that’s for sure. Of course she wanted to free other Muggleborns if she could. So what if it was prostitution, there were worse things in the world.
“Fine,” she said, finally getting the resolve to unclasp her bra and push down her knickers. “Let’s get this over with.”
Voldemort grinned and took her hand. Together, they stepped into the circle and kneeled in the middle of it.
“What’s going to happen next?” Hermione asked, still not looking at Umbridge.
She was uncomfortable being naked in front of an audience. It didn’t matter that said audience was about to die, she was still self-conscious.
Voldemort picked up the silver dagger from before and put it in her right hand before putting his hand on top of hers.
“Now, we make the sacrifice. You can close your eyes if it makes you feel better,” he said.
She shook her head, keeping her eyes open. The least she could do was look the person she was selling out for the wellbeing of others in the eyes. Just like with Snape, this could be counted as a necessary sacrifice in the war. That was what she told herself, but her heart was not so cold that it didn’t quiver when Voldemort brought the knife to Umbridge’s neck.
Hermione saw the panic in the other woman’s eyes when the dagger approached. Felt the soft resistance when it sliced her throat. Saw the eyes fill with fear and pain for a second before they grew empty, the light forever disappearing.
Now she had to close her eyes to stop the tears. She swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. Just like she would never forget Snape’s chewed on head flying over the floor, she would never forget Umbridge’s eyes when she died. But it was for the greater good, that’s what she kept telling herself. It would help them defeat Voldemort for good.
Great Merlin, it had to help them defeat Voldemort, otherwise she wasn’t sure how she would be able to live with herself.
Voldemort removed the dagger from her hand and then began to chant slowly in what sounded like ancient Persian.
She forced her eyes open, reminding herself that she needed to see as much as possible of the ritual if she were to identify it later and break it.
However, as she saw Voldemort dip his finger into the blood that was pouring out for Umbridge’s throat, she had to squeeze both her eyes and lips shut to not let out a whimper.
To her horror, she felt his wet fingers on her chest. Only his left hand on her shoulder stopped her from flying back. He was painting some sort of symbol on her chest, she could feel it.
Then, a most curious thing happened. When he removed his hand from her chest, she felt calmness settling there. She could open her eyes again and the corpse on the floor didn’t bother her anymore. Instead, she could with mild interest look on as the blood, clearly guided by magic, was flowing out from the body, circling them, filling out the runes Voldemort had painted earlier.
He dipped his fingers into the blood again and then went ahead and painted a symbol on his own chest. It was a symbol for the soul, she realised. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a warning bell was ringing, but the calmness that had settled inside her stopped her from acting.
Another dip of blood and he painted another symbol on her forehead this time. Slowly, her heart started to beat faster as a throbbing sensation was travelling down her body. It was arousing in a way she never had experienced before. It was mostly in her mind and she got the feeling that if she just thought about it long enough, she would be able to achieve climax without even touching herself.
As Voldemort painted the corresponding symbol on his own forehead, she could see his pupils dilate. The rune was one for enlightenment and a common addition to a lot of rituals.
The third rune was painted on her lower belly. She glanced downwards, expecting to see one for lust or something like that, but instead, it was a rune for protection. Looking over at him, she saw that he was writing a completely different one of his belly. His meant hiding or covering.
Her blood had started to throb and she saw that he was growing hard as well. It struck her that the runes could be taken literally. He was about to “hide” his cock inside her, and in a way, it would be “protected” in there. Was it just a pun or did it mean something else?
Right now, she didn’t really care one way or another. Voldemort had told the truth when he said that she would be caught up by the ritual. It was more than the lust potion. It felt like she wouldn’t be whole until he was inside her.
Thankfully, this was not a seduction, it was just a ritual. Voldemort pulled her into his lap and she eagerly grabbed his cock and sank down onto it. She let out a sigh of relief before steading herself with her hands on his shoulders and beginning to move.
Voldemort had one arm around her back and one up in her hair, his nails scratching the back of her head.
He was still whispering words, but they came a lot more forced than before, his tone rising and falling at the same speed as she did over his cock.
She was struck by a sudden urge to make him do a mistake. She clenched her muscles as hard as she could, then letting go, pulling up until he was almost out of her pussy, then she slammed back down again with as much force as she could muster.
Alas, his control was better than that, and when his voice started to falter, he merely adjusted his grip around her, pressing her harder against him so that she was no longer in control of how fast she could move. He was controlling the speed now and after a few hard thrusts upwards, she no longer cared about trying to mess up the ritual.
She let out a cry when her orgasm came upon her, faster and more forceful than she had expected. And it wouldn’t end. It was almost like something was keeping her locked in that sensation, forcing her to experience it over and over again.
Her whole body was shaking and all she could see was the white light inside her. Or was it outside of her? She didn’t know if her eyes were closed or not, and she didn’t care. This was total bliss.
The circle around them caught on fire, but she hardly noticed. For all she knew, she was the fire, burning brighter and higher for every second that passed.
Voldemort yelled out a final few words and then she could feel him emptying inside her. It wasn’t just semen, but something more. Something dark and beautiful.
The experience was too much. Her body and mind could no longer keep up. She wanted to stay in the feeling, but her body betrayed her, and everything around her faded away.
But she was still aware of something. Inside her.
While the rest of the world was gone, she inspected the new thing. What was it?
She floated (or was she flying?) closer to it. The new thing was there, but at the same time it wasn’t. It was shared with something and if she looked closer, she could see a dark thread reaching … somewhere.
She grabbed hold of the thread and followed it outside of herself.
It came to something much bigger and familiar. Voldemort. She recognised his scent.
She was inside of Voldemort and could now see and feel what he was doing.
He was hot, very hot and panting. He wanted to drink some cold water, but there wasn’t anything close by and he was too exhausted to move. Should he call for a house-elf?
No, better not, they were loyal to Hermione and if they saw her like this, they would no doubt rebel.
His focus turned to her instead. She was lying in his arms, looking peaceful. His softening cock was still inside her and he didn’t want to leave. What if this was the last time he could be inside her?
It surprised Hermione how much he wanted to get back to that short period of their life when she didn’t completely hate him. It wasn’t just that she had been easier to deal with, but also because he had enjoyed her company, both sexual and in conversation.
You were the one who destroyed that, Hermione thought silently.
Deep down, Voldemort knew that too, but he didn’t see it as his fault. Of course he had had to punish her for leaking information. She was foolish to think that she wouldn’t get caught.
Hermione let go of the thread and sank down into her own body. She was so tired, both mentally and physically. It wasn’t just the ritual, but everything. Being Headmistress, living with him, waiting for the final battle to come. She just wanted to sleep.
So she did.
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The Dragon Chronicles