Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Serpentine Series	By : HarmonyB Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 12060 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN REGARDS TO THE HARRY POTTER FANDOM NOR DO I MAKE MONEY OFF OF THIS STORY.

Chapter List
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They walked on into the front room, a huge area littered with furniture covered in sheets. She didn't pay much attention to the room until they passed a painting that caught Hermione's eye.
Squinting through the gloom she noticed that, unlike everything else, it was dusted recently. The portrait was of a young woman with long, wavy black hair. She wore the most stunning green velvet gown with delicate silver stitching at the sleeves around the shoulders and wrists. It looked so real—so beautiful—that she imagined she could touch the canvas and feel the fabric.
The woman's face was quite lovely with a straight nose and full lips that curved up into an enchanting smile. However, what held Hermione's attention most were the eyes. They were an exquisite bright blue that sparkled like stars in an evening sky. They were so striking that they held her transfixed, so that she could not move.
Snape gave her an impatient shove in the back to keep her moving. Voices, low in conversation, could be heard from another room somewhere ahead of them. Snape stepped in front of Hermione and grabbed a single candle from a sconce on the wall. He lit it with the tip of his wand. Through the dim green light, he guided Hermione into a well-lit room where several people had gathered near a warm fireplace.
Hermione immediately recognized the malicious Bellatrix Lestrange, but the two men with her were unfamiliar to her. One man, just a little taller than she, stood next to the large, ornate fireplace with arms crossed over his chest, while the other man sat on a threadbare couch as he stared into the fire.
Bellatrix had been speaking and paused in mid-boast to approach the newcomers. She leered at Snape as though he were an unwelcome bug that had crawled in from beneath the floorboards to bother her, but when she saw Hermione her eyes widened in outrage. With her dingy clothes and wild hair that uncoiled in every direction, she resembled a banshee preparing to claim another soul.
"Is that the one?" she bellowed in a shrill voice. "She's a woman! Why did you bring a woman? We don't need another one of those."
"This is Bellatrix Lestrange," Snape told Hermione as though he was talking about a filthy stain he'd found in the carpet. Then he pointed to the man on the couch. "That balding old codger sitting there is Goyle, and the rather animated young man by the fire is Bartimus Crouch, Junior."
Hermione looked the last man over as she thought, So this is the infamous Bartimus Crouch Jr. She had heard from Harry Potter all about his antics during the Triwizard Tournament; how he had impersonated their friend, Mad-Eye Moody, and nearly took the chance to kill her friend. He had been stopped, of course, but while he had been escorted away to be punished with a Dementor's Kiss, he had escaped with the help of a few other of Voldemort's followers. She had only ever seen him in his Alastor Moody guise, but now she saw he was a young man with a mass of dark, mangled hair and wore a long leather coat in spite of the heat of the fire beside him. He straightened up and uncrossed his arms when he caught sight of her.
"Call me Barty," he told her as his eyes roved over her body hungrily, as though he longed to touch her. Hermione felt her skin crawl beneath his gaze as he asked, "And what's your name, my lovely?"
Bellatrix interrupted them as she stepped up to look at Hermione more closely. "Why do you have that thing covering your face?"
Hermione's hand instinctually came up to her face scarf which still covered everything except her wide brown eyes.
"I don't trust anyone who hides their face," Bellatrix added.
Goyle continued to stare, zombie-like, at the fire as he said, "Maybe she has to trust us first."
Bellatrix crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I don't think our prodigious Dark Lord would trust someone who covered their face."
Snape stepped between the two women. "Enough talk. Now that we all know each other, where is the Dark Lord? We have private business to attend to."
Hermione trembled at the mention of Voldemort, and she glanced up to see Barty staring at her closely. She straightened up and looked away, but not before she saw his lips turn up into a dirty-toothed grin.
"Upstairs," Bellatrix answered with a dejected sigh, "where he's been all day."
"You need to respect the Dark Lord's privacy, Lestrange," Snape admonished her. "He doesn't need to be down here with his devotees all the time."
"You know nothing of what our Dark Lord needs," she snapped as a fire ignited in her cold eyes.
"And you do? My, my, Bellatrix. You of all people should know he prefers his own company to that of his groveling admirers." He turned away from Bellatrix's furious gaze. "Now, if you'll excuse us."
Snape rushed out of the room. Hermione cast one last glance at the others before she followed. Bellatrix continued to glare, Goyle remained unmoving, and Barty surged forward in a playful bow. Hermione was glad leave.
Snape climbed the stairs of a dusty grand staircase with his head held poised and the sconce still clutched in one hand. Hermione moved carefully as she caught up, making certain she did not trip over any unseen objects in the dark as she went. She mounted the stairs, finally catching up to her potions professor as they reached the landing of the second floor.
A long hallway stretched out before them, with one door at the end left wide open. Candles hung in brackets along the walls, but none of them were lit. Besides their own sconce, the only other light source emanated from the room at the end of the hallway.
When they were just outside the door, Snape motioned for Hermione to stay where she was as he proceeded inside. Curiously, she shuffled forward to peer meekly around one edge of the doorway.
The large room, lit by a roaring fire in an ornate hearth, was much brighter than the hall had been, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Inside was a sumptuous four-poster bed covered in green velvet. It looked very soft and inviting, and she tore her eyes away with a firm resolve.
Near the fire were a few pieces of black leather furniture, including a long couch and a matching armchair. A little rosewood table sat between the two pieces of furniture, and floating above it she saw a small green orb that cast a faint light on a book that had been left open there.
A cloaked figure loomed near the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back. He was bent forward as if warming his face, and stood straighter as Snape postured himself at his side.
"My Lord," said Snape with a slight bow.
"Severus, at last you have come," said a smooth yet powerful voice that sent quivers through Hermione's body; as smooth as she imagined the velvet coverlet to be. Her breathing became shallow as she continued to stare at the Dark Lord's back.
"Have you done what I told you?" Voldemort asked as he leaned closer to the man beside him.
"Yes, my Lord," Snape answered with a nod.
"Good," the Dark Lord crooned as he bent toward the fire again. "You know what to do."
"As you wish, Master," Snape said with a bow, and walked quietly out into the hall. Hermione stumbled backwards as if she'd just broken free of a spell, and looked up at him uncertainly.
"Come with me," he told Hermione, and somehow she managed to comply. Her steps were slow and languorous as she followed him back toward the stairs, and as she reached them she could not help but steal one last look at the room they were leaving behind.
The dark silhouette, cloaked and shadowed, had moved out into the hall to watch them leave, and her heart leapt up into her throat as she quickly turned away. She could feel him watching her as she hurried down the stairs after Snape.
Snape led Hermione hastily down a labyrinth of hallways until he finally stopped in front of a decaying door on which hung a small portrait painting of a young woman. He turned the rusty knob with a loud squeak and threw open the door. As they walked inside she saw that he'd brought her to a small bedchamber which smelled putrid with old age. Everything there, from ceiling to floor, was covered in cobwebs and dust, including the posts supporting the canopy bed.
"You are to stay here until I come back for you," he instructed her as she looked around the room. "There is a washroom across the hall if you have need of it, but go nowhere else while I am gone."
"And where will you be taking me when you come back?" she asked as she looked away from the bedposts.
"I will be figuring that out momentarily," he told her. "And rub that worried look out of your eyes, Granger. Get some rest until I get back. You look like you could use it."
Hermione watched him speculatively. She could hear the uneasiness in his nasally voice.
"While you are here, Granger, you may be expected to perform tasks you do not want to do. When that time comes, you must remember that it is your life that is at risk should you refuse."
Hermione met his eyes and she was surprised to see worry there. She swallowed hard to tamp down the emotions that welled within her, and whispered, "Thank you, Professor."
Snape didn't smile, nor did he sneer. He just turned to go, but then stopped. "I've almost forgotten. While you are here, you are to go under a different name to maintain your identity. Harmony Hangleton. 'Harmony' is similar to your own name, so it shouldn't be hard to remember."
And then he was gone. Hermione was alone and she turned away to grimace at the bed, which was covered in dust. She would not be able to sleep with her nerves on fire as they were, so she decided to have a look at the bathroom.
Outside the room, she noticed Snape had left the sconce in a bracket beside the bedroom door. She stepped out into the small sphere of green light and crossed the hall to the bathroom. It was a sorely inadequate place that resembled a water closet from at least a hundred years ago. The toilet operated by pulling on a chain above the head; and the shower, if it could be called one, was nothing more than a spigot that stuck out of the wall. She saw a small hole in the floor beneath it that she assumed was the drain. Thankfully it was supplied with toilet paper and towels, and she quickly finished her business before returning to her dismal, dusty chamber.
She hesitated, and then sat on the bed gingerly as tears of fear and frustration welled up in her eyes. She let the tears flow, promising herself that after this she would never cry again. Dangers aplenty were undoubtedly before her. There would be no time for tears then, only courage.
After the tears ceased to flow, she was so exhausted that she flopped down on the grimy bed, ignoring the cloud of dust that plumed up around her. Within minutes she had drifted off into a deep sleep.
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Serpentine Series