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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 37650 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The same goes for everything else you recognise: I don't own it (including Alanis Morrisette's beautiful song text). Alas, now I am depressed about everything that I do not own.

A/N: Voldemort's POV.

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

And all I really want is some patience

A way to calm the angry voice

And all I really want is deliverance

What I wouldn't give to find a soulmate

Someone else to catch this drift

And what I wouldn't give to meet a kindred

And all I need now is intellectual intercourse

A soul to dig the hole must deeper

And I have no concept of time other than it is flying

If only I could kill the killer

Alanis Morrisette, All I really want.

Chapter three

After leaving the shop, he takes a left turn and makes his way up the street into Diagon Alley. Lord Voldemort is in a good mood and he is certain it will only become better and better. Today is a going to be the day that he will take the first step back to immortality. Oh, such joy. Perhaps he shall consider making this day, April 21st, an obligated holiday: Dark Lord Day. Hmmm… It has a nice ring to it.

Well, let's face it. He has gotten what he is looking for, the name of the soon-to-be-ex-owner of the amulet. The person in question isn't going to challenge him, so he will have the amulet tonight. He has Sloan who is searching for Granger. And he has felt the pleasure of terrifying that delightful woman at the shop … delightful? Why is he calling a measly shopgirl delightful? Really, he must be getting soft.

But the girl had pleased him. It is why he had not cursed her. She had fought with her deviance by not succumbing to him straight away, which is something he prefers. And, of course, in the end she had lost, as he knew she would. But it had been entertaining to make her break, to get her to beg. All the other women he meets these days do immediately what he wants out of fear or foolish reverie. Or worse, they break down crying onto the floor, which he cannot stand. He hates crying. He despises the whining sound it makes. Whenever someone cries in his presence, they will die eventually. He will kill them for torturing his eardrums with that blasted sound. But first they will pay for it, dearly.

He isn't sure what he loathes more, criers or lovers, but both are despicable emotions. He remembers the Aine Girl had cried too, but silently. All he had to endure from it were the tears on her face. It made her beautifully his. Those tears had been a true testament of his victory over the girl. Quiet tears, yes, those he can stand.

No, it has not been a mistake to let the girl live. He may have some future use for her. After all, she had shown him respect. It was woven in the way she addressed him, and he could read it in her attitude and responses. She had been unlike the others. It was such a refreshing change. He definitely has to see her again. Aine Alberon, an elf-name, an unusual name for an unusual girl.

But now is not the time to dwell on women. It is time to send an owl to that wretched man. Sir Reginald Murdoch, he remembers him well. The man fits every bad stereotype of aristocrats, but most of all, he is dumb and greedy. He will not like to give up the Amulet. Too bad for him. Lord Voldemort always gets what he wants.

He arrives at Eeylops Owl Emporium. However, before he can tell the clerk he needs to borrow an owl, the man breaks down in front of him. He stares in disgust at the crawling and pleading figure on the floor before him. This is really utterly annoying. All he needs is a bloody owl, not a freak show.

'Please, don't kill me, don't hurt me. Please, I have a wife and four children.'

Oh, great, the thing before him had multiplied. He should save the wizard gene pool from such despicable creatures and kill them all.

'Please, I'll give you anything. I'll do whatever you say. Please, please,' the clerk says snivelling.

The man is definitely spoiling his perfectly fine day. 'Crucio,' he says lazy, not putting much of an effort in the curse, though the effect is still tremendous.

The clerk screams his lungs out; he wriggles and twists over the floor, while Voldemort already has lowered his wand. 'You're quite the theatrical one, aren't you?' he says coldly.

The man still screams, and … starts to cry. That does it.

'Avada Kedavra.'

Finally, some peace and quietness; Voldemort breathes in deeply, savouring the moment of silence, before he walks towards the cages and decides the grey owl on the left will be fine for this little errand. He picks up the cage containing the owl and places it on the counter. He grabs a quill and some parchment from the stack to his left and writes a simple and short note.

Sir Reginald,

A couple of weeks ago you bought an amulet on a silver necklace in Kenia. I want it. I'll be arriving tonight at eight o'clock. Make sure it's ready. I will not be pleased otherwise.

Lord Voldemort.

That should do it. Reggie is easily scared. This will have him hiding under the covers for sure. Tonight, he will own the amulet, and then … he can look for ways to retract the power to heal the soul from it and avoid the messy business of remorse. He leaves the owl shop, turning the sign on the door. It now says: 'closed for business'. Killing the clerk has lifted his spirits. He is reconsidering Dark Lord Day again.

His mood back up, he decides to wander around Diagon Alley, to check out the stores. He'll go to the bookstore first. Yes, perhaps there is something new and exciting to read, or something old and obscure. It has been a while since he has last seen the inside of Flourish and Blotts, but the shop is still one of his favourites, even after seeing so many bookstores in other countries, from extremely small and claustrophobic to insanely humungous. He remembers the first time he set foot inside the store. He wanted to buy every book on the shelves, but could not afford them. Things are slightly different these days. A broad smile makes its way to his face.

He nods politely to a startled man that exits Madam Malkin's and is about to open the door of Flourish and Blotts, when he thinks he sees Liam Sloan in the distance. He frowns and quickly makes his way back to the corner and glares into Knockturn Alley, but there is no brown suit to be seen anywhere. He probably is mistaken. Sloan has such a common appearance. Surely the man will not be so foolish to lurk around after he gave him a task to perform. Lord Voldemort expects nothing less than the utmost dedication from wizards he sends on missions.

But he knows Sloan is like a terrier; when on assignment, he will sink his teeth into it, until he has found his mark. It is foolish of him to think he has seen Sloan. He knows the man's greatest asset is his rather plain appearance, his likeness to others. The Dark Lord shakes his head and returns back to his shopping spree.

Two hours later, and a large number of items richer, he is sitting in a small café, drinking coffee and eating a piece of apple-pie. It is nearly four o'clock. Voldemort stares down the window into the alley. He doesn't know why, but he starts to hear a nagging voice. It is taunting him.

'You are missing something. Na…na…na…'

He has heard it earlier today. His fingers are tapping the table as he is contemplating on what it can be.

'Does his lordship want a refill?'

'Leave,' he commands irritated, and he makes an abrupt, dismissive wave with his right hand.

The trembling man holding the coffee container stumbles away quickly, glad he isn't cursed for asking the question. Voldemort furrows his eyebrows. The man has interrupted his thought process. He is certain he is on to something, something important. He makes a fist with his hand and rams the table out of sheer frustration. It is at the tip of his tongue. He is so close, but it is just out of reach. He glares out the window.

Borgins and Burkes! That's when he first had that feeling, but he dismissed it then. Thought it was nothing. But if it is nothing, then … why does it keep coming back to bother him? Borgins and Burkes? Hmm… He had been saying goodbye to the shopgirl, when he had seen something familiar, but what was it? He is certain he has never met the damn Alberon girl before. Maybe it was an item on the shelves? He sighs. He has to go back. Maybe that will jog his memory. He is busy assembling his things when he sees Liam Sloan walking down the alley.

His temper flies through the roof upon seeing the slacking Unspeakable. Perhaps he has seen him earlier on in the day. He will show him, neglecting his duties like that. Furiously, he leaves his belongings behind and steps outside.

'Sloan,' he says shortly, his knuckles white from clutching on to his wand.

The man looks back at him without a shred of fear and nods courteously. It surprises him for a moment, and it stops him from hexing Sloan on the spot.

'Master, I believe I may have found a lead on Granger's whereabouts. I am on my way to make an arrest.'

Voldemort looks around. Indeed, Sloan is not alone. He is accompanied by six men. Six, so this has to be an Unspeakable Arrest Squad. Perhaps Sloan hasn't been sluggish in doing his duty. He calms down a bit and pockets his wand.

'Who are you going to arrest?'

The answer makes him furious. 'Follow me,' he demands, and he Disapparates on the spot.

A loud crack and he Apparates straight into Borgins and Burkes, disregarding all the niceties concerning Apparation. His eyes fly across the shop, but she isn't there. He paces towards the storage room, pushes the curtain aside and raises his wand at…

…an empty room. She has left. He blasts the furniture to pieces to relieve his temper, but that doesn't do the trick. He is still feeling utterly ferocious. The Alberon Girl has fooled him. Seven more cracks follow his, and he turns, grabs the curtain and rips it from the doorframe. It falls apart and the beads clatter all around him.

'What do you know about this woman?' he spats at Sloan.

Sloan's eyes dart around the shop nervously. 'She isn't here?' he asks clearly uncomfortably.

'Obviously not, you fool; now answer my question.'

Sloan is becoming incredibly uneasy. He has been here before. If it hadn't been for Yaxley, the girl would have been taken into custody. And now, he has to explain to a very angry Lord Voldemort what he is considering the girl's identity to be. Sloan takes a deep breath and starts talking.

'I have a reliable spy in Brazil who claims the Alberons do not have a twenty-eight year old daughter named Aine. So I know her identity is a fake. There has also been a slight increase in Granger sightings in Brazil some ten months ago.'

Voldemort sighs. 'You mean those idiots who have no life and waste our time by calling wolf, or in our case Granger? I can't believe you take those reports serious Sloan, I think...'

But Sloan recklessly interrupts him. 'I always check the data on sightings for 'missing people' around the globe. It's how I succeed where others fail. You see, one thing I've learnt from studying the amount of sightings is that the weirdo-factor remains a constant with only minor deviations. If at any given time the constant changes, and the total amount of sightings suddenly increases, then the wanted individual is there. It's how I am able to track the general movements of every criminal on this planet.'

He pulls out a report from his pocket and hands it to Voldemort.

'This is where I believe Miss Granger has been for the last year. I can't find her whereabouts prior to that. It's like she vanished off the face of the earth for a while. However, starting ten months ago I have seen changes all around the globe in the weirdo-constant, so I'm certain this is where she has been.'

While Voldemort is reading the names of the countries and places Hermione has been, Sloan continues his thoughts on Aine Alberon. 'I've been interested in Miss Aine Alberon, because the Brazilian sightings concerning Miss Granger were located near the entrance of Everon. And Aine Alberon is a name highly linked with the Elves' Kingdom. Before I knew she did not exist, I thought she could provide us with information with regards to the why and what of Miss Granger's stay in Everon. But now I believe Aine Alberon is in fact…'

'Hermione Granger,' Voldemort finishes the sentence in anger. His teeth are gritted firmly upon one another. 'How did she know?' he thinks furiously.

He recognises the names of the places Hermione has been to. He also notes when she has been there. It is quite similar to his travels. How has she found out about the Amulet? He looks to the last location on the list. It is the capital of Kenia. She beat him there. She has visited Muraty two weeks ago. He, suddenly, hears Sloan speak up again.

'What I don't understand is why a smart woman like Miss Granger would have chosen such an obvious high profile name without the proper paperwork. She must have realised in advance that it would draw attention to her. I mean, if she had taken any other name, I would not have located her so soon. Actually, it's the reason why I wasn't certain it was her to begin with. I assumed that Miss Aine was some kind of half-blood gold-digger, looking to score a wealthy, pureblood husband by fooling him into thinking that she carried a respectable wizard's name.'

'She was in some way,' Voldemort says quietly. The temperature of his voice drops below freezing point, when he realises the clever scheme Hermione has set up to get her hands on the Amulet. 'She is after Sir Reginald Murdoch, or rather, after something he owns. And she needs an elf name to get it from him.'

Sloan looks at him with bemusement in his eyes. He obviously has no idea what Voldemort is talking about. He is about to ask when Lord Voldemort says abruptly: 'So that's where she is right now … Sloan, I want you to secure the borders. Stop all International Apparition Activity until further notice. Do not fail me. If Miss Granger finds a way to leave this country, I will hold you responsible. Do you understand?'

Sloan nods and Disapparates.

'You six, follow me to the Murdoch Mansion. Miss Granger will be there. I want the house surrounded and warded. I will be the one to enter. The rest of you will remain outdoors, preventing her from escaping. Remember, I need her alive. Kill her and I will do to you what I plan to do to her. So I suggest you do not fail me. The Mansion's address is Deans Valley eleven at Godric's Hollow. Go now.'

And on that note, he spins on the spot, and with a loud crack, Lord Voldemort Disapparates. The Unspeakables follow quickly, not wanting to call upon the wrath of an already angry Dark Lord.

Voldemort arrives just outside the gardens of the Murdoch Mansion, right behind the fence. The Mansion is a heavily fortified place you cannot directly Apparate into, but the wards are easily broken by Lord Voldemort. All it takes is a simple flick of his wand. He orders the Unspeakables to take their positions, and they start surrounding and warding the place. It's when the Dark Lord quickly sets out a warded perimeter of his own. His analytic mind is dwelling on Granger's very clever plan, while he marches towards the Mansion.

'She must be planning to threaten Reginald with the wrath of the elves if he doesn't cough up the Amulet,' he thinks.

And he realises that will undoubtedly work. The Elves' wrath is so devastating that it is likely Murdoch will prefer facing his. He starts to move faster. That Amulet better still be there, or he will take a page out of the elves' book with Murdoch.

Aine, she has taken the name of the Amulet as her first name. Granger sure has guts. He cannot believe he has not made that connection when he saw her nametag in the store. He has been so willing to cast aside Jareth's insipid story that he had forgotten all about the name of the Amulet.

Suddenly, it comes back to him. The missing thing, his little nagging voice has been bothering him with. It was her silent tears: Aine's silent crying. They were the spitting image of Granger's tears in the fireplace the day when Weasley pushed her in. He clenches his fists and his wand leaves a significant imprint on his palm. He recognised her and somehow failed to make the connection. It makes him sick to his stomach. Merlin, she must have had a ball after he left. The Great Lord Voldemort holds Miss Undesirable no. 1 in his arms and then lets her escape. The thought of Hermione Granger laughing her socks off at his expense is infuriating him.

He storms up the flight of steps towards the front door of Murdoch's Mansion, raising his wand to blast the door out of his way, but it opens on its own. A small, delicate hand is visibly holding on to the rim of the front door, when the crack widens and he stares straight into a pair of shocked emerald green eyes. A vile smile flies across his face.

'No,' she says scared, defeat in her eyes, holding up her wandless hands in surrender.

'Yessss,' he hisses, satisfied.

His Sectumsempra Curse hits her in the chest and she is thrown backwards into the hall of the Mansion. Her blood sprays all over the place. And he calmly steps through the door, taking his time, while watching her try to get back on her feet and failing. She is applying pressure with her arms on her chest to lessen the bleeding when she starts coughing. Blood spits from her mouth, and all the while, she is mumbling something he cannot make out. A door to his left opens and in its doorway stands Sir Reginald Murdoch. Murdoch's eyes look fearful and his face is pale.

'She… she made me.'

'I'll deal with you later. Go back to your room,' Lord Voldemort snaps at the pureblood aristocrat.

Reginald quickly returns to his living room, his anxious eyes darting over to the bleeding woman for a second. Voldemort snorts at his retreating back and when the door closes behind Murdoch, he returns his attention to the now bloodstained hall with great satisfaction, and decides a little more pain will be appropriate. He raises his wand back at her lying figure and sees the fear creep up in her eyes.

'No, please, I…'

'I did not give you permission to speak to me, Mudblood. Silencio.'

He sees her try to roll away from the spell's path, but the jet of light hits her, causing more blood to spray around. Panicking, she tries desperately to crawl away from him on her belly. Voldemort advances slowly towards her, laughing out loud at her despair, and he starts taunting her.

'What's the matter, Granger? Lost your wand? Having problems casting nonverbal spells? Come on woman, at least try to put up a fight. Potter and Weasley would be so disappointed. You know, I crushed that boyfriend of yours like a bug, Granger. Ronald Weasley was crying for his mommy when I tortured him. And he screamed out your name. He prayed you would save him, but you never came. You left him to die. So I killed him, Hermione Granger, as you knew I would. It's what I do with vermin. I eradicate them.

And you … you've been an annoying piece of weed that I've been waiting to pull from the ground for years. And now I can, Granger. Your time is up. I'm going to destroy you. You will pay for your insolent defiance of me, you and your entire disgusting bloodline. You will tell me where to find your filthy muggle parents, and then I will show you the true meaning of defeat,' he spits the words at her with all the force he can muster.

He decides he has enough of her pathetic crawling attempts to get away from him. He waves his wand around and she flips over onto her back. He wants to see her eyes when he casts the curse. He wants to feel her pain, her terror, her submission. She is going to pay for all the times she has evaded him, and he will cherish every bleeding second of his revenge.

He towers above her and points his wand towards her. He notices with pleasure that her clothes are drenched in that despicable blood of hers, and he looks smilingly into those two terrified emerald eyes as her head shakes 'no' in terror upon seeing his movement. He kneels down beside her, presses his wand into her stomach and wraps the necklace holding the Amulet of Aine around his free hand. A harsh pull and for a moment he watches the Amulet in his hand with a wild happiness, before pocketing it. He, then, places his hand on her forehead. Her body is trembling violently and she is shaking her head, removing his hand from it. He glares at her in anger and hisses: 'Hold still or…'

And he roughly pushes his hand into her chest wound and moves it around in there. He notices with intense pleasure that the pain brings those beautiful silent tears back to her eyes. This is indeed a good day. He has finally conquered the last shred of connection to The-Boy-Who-Lived. And now, he is going to have some fun.

Voldemort removes his hand from her chest, grabs her forehead again with his hand, and pushes her head hard into the ground, before he says in a cold, soft, satisfied tone: 'Feel free to scream in your mind, dear. This is going to hurt.'

His high pitched laugh stretches throughout the hall as he casts the curse upon her.
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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory