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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.

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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

I've got the stuff that you want

I've got the thing that you need

I've got more than enough

To make you drop to your knees

Cause I'm the queen of the night

The queen of the night

Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Whitney Houston; Queen of the night.

Chapter twenty-nine: part two

With the solemn, familiar crack of Apparition I arrive back in the UK on a field of green in the county of Wiltshire. Large stones up ahead indicate I have arrived at the right destination and I walk to ancient site curiously. It's probably pretty embarrassing to admit this for an English witch, but I have never seen it before. I was sick the day my old Muggle school took a day-trip to it, and my parents always took me on vacations abroad. I scowl as I walk past the Slaughter Stone and move towards the huge construction. Even among the Wizarding World the origin of the structure has gone lost, but the myths involving the Slaughter Stone are not particularly nice. I remember my History of Magic classes very clearly; it was all about disgusting, ridiculous sacrifices. Professor Binns, reluctantly, told us some of the myths involving Stonehenge, awakening everyone in class. But then he concentrated back on the known facts of history as he called it, and Ron – as well as the others – fell asleep again.

Those known facts are that Giants – who brought the stones from Africa to Ireland – were involved in its original construction on Mount Killaraus. Then, there was some war with the Irish from whom the stones were nicked by Merlin and he rebuilt it here. But exactly the how, what and why of Stonehenge remains a mystery to all. Now I have found out Le Fay used this mysterious place to hide her knowledge. I walk to the centre of it and look around the humongous stones. I just have one little, tiny, minuscule, inconsequential issue right now. Where the hell did she stash it precisely?

A soft snicker starts inside of me. 'Forgot to check for that, my dear? You really need to learn to focus on your precise needs when you perform Legilimency. But I hope you have fun searching,' Voldemort's soul taunts. 'I am sure it won't be long before I get here.'

'Well, in that case it won't matter if you tell me where the entrance is,' I respond smoothly.

'Why? Can't you find it on your own?' he snickers. 'Come on, Granger; dazzle me with your insight.'

I sigh and my hand grabs my poor aching forehead. This really is giving me a headache. 'Can't you ever do anything without the need to make a silly match of it? It's in your best interest to find out about Everon and Amortentia too,' I snarl irritated.

'Do you really think I care about some stupid Love Potion?' Voldemort huffs.

'Argh!' I throw my hands in the air in aggravation. 'Your mother used it!'

'Pfftt… so what? There are many more silly women who use silly methods to get their hands on silly men.'

'You were conceived under it.'

'Oh, hellup,' he mocks. 'Someone save me now. I am shivering in fear; my world is falling apart; a Love Potion is to be my downfall. Yes, children, welcome to the fairytale of love conquering evil. Love's magic is sooooopowerful; it will obliterate all evil bastards like me. Ahhhh! I can feel it now. I am melting! I am melting!'

'Drama queen,' I mutter.

His loud laughter runs through me, a small smile forms on my face in amusement and my shoulders shake slightly. But I am not laughing; I am not. I take a deep breath and look around. Well, I guess I have to do this the hard way. I close my eyes and focus on the magic around me. However, there is magic everywhere in this place. The air is even charged with magic, and my skin crawls as I feel it entering inside of me. This is pointless. I open my eyes again. Fine.

'Legilimency,' I cast, but I am tossed out immediately.

'Really, Granger, even a buffoon could have seen that one coming a mile away,' Voldemort taunts. 'Surely, you can do better than that?'

'You don't want me to do better than that,' I hiss warningly.

'Oh, don't I?' he responds amused. 'I think I would like to see you try.'

'You have split your soul from your body again, you idiot,' I snarl, 'which means that I have the advantage. You've split up the control over your magic and have generously,' I mock, 'given it to me. Mind, body and soul is what holds the control as I tried to explain to you before.'

'Oh yeah, I remember,' he says lightly.

And I furrow my brow. He doesn't believe me? 'You arrogant, presumptuous, overbearing…'

'Granger,' he interrupts, 'I never said I didn't believe you. But it requires, after all, a huge amount of knowledge on the Dark Arts to gain and hold control over another. So ifyou have the advantage, then use it,' he orders smugly. 'I've been waiting for ages for you to fall into darkness. Come on dearest, make me winner and we'll see how good you truly are in the Arts.'

I blink. Damn.

'Aren't you even going to try?' someone asks in mock disappointment. 'I can tell you which curse you need to use.'

I roll my eyes. That, he can tell; but where a simple entrance lies … that takes too much effort. So, how do I find a magical entrance in a place that is already swamped with magic? Find the difference in the origin! 'Kreacher!' I call out, excited.

Crack.

'What can Kreacher do for Mistress Hermione Jean Granger?' a bullfrog voice sounds behind me.

I swirl around. 'Kreacher, I need your help in finding a possible Elfin hideout here.'

'Kreacher will be delighted to find it for Mistress Hermione,' the little House-elf states, beaming.

'A House-elf?' Voldemort mocks. 'You ask for help from a House-elf?'

'Thank you, Kreacher,' I mutter, walking around puzzled, 'I am not sure she was an elf though. I know her history has become somewhat of a myth, but…'

'There is Elfin magic present in that stone,' Kreacher points.

I look up in triumph. 'You were saying?' I mock back to Voldemort, while walking to one of the largest standing stones. 'So, Morgan Le Fay really was an elf?' I ask Kreacher.

But I immediately regret the question, because his pointed ears drop and a dark shadow falls over his face before he starts banging his head against one of the stones. 'Bad Kreacher, evil elf.'

'Stop it; stop it,' I order, grabbing the little House-elf and pulling him away from the stone. 'Kreacher? Why are you punishing yourself?' I ask.

'We do not speak of it,' he states firmly.

'What?' I frown. 'About Morgan Le… No, Kreacher, stop!' And I grab his hands to stop him from hitting himself with them.

'Sweet Salazar, talk about being bonkers,' Voldemort observes.

'Kreacher will go,' Kreacher claims, 'and Mistress be wise to leave too.'

'Why?'

'Mistress must not get involved with Her,' Kreacher whispers fearfully.

I narrow my eyes. 'Kreacher,' I start carefully, 'what does "Everon will rise" mean?'

His eyes turn wide and his little body starts shaking all over. 'Bad thing, bad thing. Everon elves are not to be trusted. Kreacher must leave now! Must leave now!'

'Kreacher?'

'We do not talk of it,' he mutters. 'Not allowed; Kreacher must not speak of it.'

Crack. And he is gone.

'Sweet Salazar, of all the House-elves in Hogwarts you had to request the aid of the mental deficient one.'

I stare at the empty spot with growing apprehension. I knew that prophecy was bad news. I just knew it. I swirl toward the stone. A purple jet leaves my spidery hand and I narrow my eyes as Jareth turns my curse into something that is now speeding toward me. A lazy wave of my hand extinguishes his feeble attempt to strike me down. My cold laugh fills the air.

'Really, Hamlet, that's the best you can do?' I mock.

'I have no desire to fight you, Tom.'

'I bet you don't.'

I fire another curse at the monk's position, but he Apparates away and I watch amused as a part of the building gets blast away. Now, that is a definite improvement of the area.

'You can try to kill me over and over again, Tom,' Jareth says behind me, and I swirl around, 'but Hermione is not here and you really ought to trust her judgement.'

Fury rises inside of me. 'Avada Kedavra!'

Jareth focuses, making the Killing Curse whirl in the air to redirect its path back towards me. Blasted, deceptive, "we only use light magic" Knight. 'You know she is not your enemy, Tom,' I hear his insipid voice say as I Apparate away in hurry.

When the sensation of Apparation ends, I open my eyes again. But I am no longer in Voldemort's body in Tibet; I am back in my own body. And it appears I'm indoors, probably inside that rock of Stonehenge. I blink, bemused. How did I get in?

'I got bored outside,' Voldemort's soul responds tiresomely.

'Bored?'

'Yes, aren't you going to thank me for transporting you in here?' he teasingly asks.

'Why thank you,' I reply mockingly.

'You're welcome, oh thou ever so grateful one,' I hear his snickering voice say as I look around curiously.

The place is magnificent. Large chandeliers, which automatically lit the moment I entered, are hanging from the ceiling. The walls are huge and seem to go on forever. Every inch of it has a little box in which a scroll lies. This has to be one of the largest, ancient areas of knowledge I have ever seen, and I can't resist myself to take a peek.

So, only out of general curiosity, I assure you, I pull one scroll and unroll it. It turns out to be an extensive description of the creation of the Furnunculus Curse; otherwise known as: "how to cover your enemy in boils". The other half of the scroll explains how the counter-curse works. I raise my eyebrows. I never knew there was a counter-curse to this one. I remember Goyle had to spend several days in the infirmary, drinking the disgusting potion that makes your skin flawless again. Morgan Le Fay's solution is much quicker and, I am sure, less revolting. I check a couple of more scrolls. It seems they all contain spells and a method to undo said spells. I place the scrolls back reluctantly and look around the place again. It's divided into several different work areas which are isolated from each other by magical walls you can see through.

I walk to the "booth" on my right that is dedicated to one of the reason I am here: Potions. As I pass the magical wall I feel a small tickling sensation, but it tells me enough. These walls protect the rest of the place in case an accident happens in one of these confined work-spaces. I look around to take in this Potions lab. It's extraordinary. There is a half circular worktable, which has the most exquisite potions equipment I have ever seen. A large storage cabinet, filled with all the supplies you may need, is standing behind the table. I even see a jug with the label Acromantula Venom on it. Considering a pint of the stuff brings up a hundred Galleons, that jug is worth a fortune. My eyes scan the rest of the supplies and I sincerely believe it is a complete set. Everything can be found here. It's unbelievable. A shelf with numerous bottles and little vials of completed potions takes up the left wall of the booth. I think Professor Snape would have been drooling and had thought he had gone to heaven had he seen this.

However, I walk to the right wall and open the drawer labelled A. I, quickly, go through it and pull out the parchment titled Amortentia. But it is only a recipe on how to brew it. I already know how to do that. I need to know what it is supposed to do precisely. It's rather strange that she didn't add that. On a mere hunch, I pull another parchment. It's titled Ageing Potion. This one doesn't merely have brewing instructions and a list of ingredients required; it also contains information on proper usage, the antidote, and many more relevant issues. Oh no. I place it back and pull a couple of random other parchments. All of them have meticulous descriptions of everything concerning the potion they describe. Suspiciously, I glance at the Amortentia document. Why is this one the exception to the rule?

'Because even Le Fay, apparently, acknowledged love beholds no power. It seems she stopped working on the foolish endeavour of creating something so useless,' Voldemort replies triumphantly.

'Hmmm… I thought you read Culthrop?' I rebut smirking.

'Culthrop, pffttt…, according to her, Invigoration Draught has addictive properties. The woman has some fine ideas about certain aspects of potions, but she is utterly paranoid about side-effects and sees evil conspiracies everywhere. Don't get me started on her theory concerning the Pixies' World-Wide Expansion Plans.'

'The what?' I ask, baffled.

'Oh my mistake, no wonder you don't recognise it. I should have said: The Government Run Conspiracy of the Pixies' World-Wide Expansion Plans,' Voldemort lectures dryly. 'Yesssss, watch those dangerous Pixies go and multiply on my orders; the threat they pose to humanity is so hard to describe only the likes of Culthrop are able to formulate it.' And he starts snickering.

I shrug my shoulders, close the drawer, pocket the Amortentia parchment and move on. So, Culthrop had some weird ideas, but it doesn't mean she is wrong about Amortentia. I hope Morgan Le Fay did document what I need to find elsewhere. I don't like the fact that someone who is obviously so methodically in nature didn't write down everything there is to know about this Love Potion. It must be important to her if she felt the need to hide it.

'Are you sure you are not related to any Lovegoods or Culthrops?' Voldemort mocks.

But I plainly ignore him. He'll eat his words later, because I know I am right about this one.

'Not a chance in hell, Lovegood.' Voldemort laughs.

I shake my head and glance across the huge place. Where on earth do I need to start looking? I could spend my entire life here and not have seen everything. All this information, it's impressive to think one person did all this. So, I decide to walk around and get a sense to what else is here, maybe that will give me a clue to a possible location of the information I need.

'Yessss, that is why you want to look around here,' Voldemort says teasingly.

'Yes, it is,' I respond irritated. 'I have a specific reason to be here. I am not doing this, because I am curious about everything else; definitely not.' I reassure myself of the latter.

He snorts.

However, my attention is drawn to my left. Excited, I look in wonder at the underground greenhouse, which emits a sunlight glow when, all of the sudden, it starts raining inside. The plants seem to be doing fine, even though they must have been unattended for centuries. I wonder how she pulled that off, before I move on to the next work bench that seems to be dedicated to Runes. Stone tablets, she must have been working with, are lying spread out on the table. And Le Fay had an unusual manner in organising the rest, because they just hover in midair all around me. The next area contains nothing but a luxurious chair. I frown. What can that be about?

'Just try it,' Voldemort speaks up again.

'I thought you weren't going to assist me in my foolish endeavour,' I snicker.

'I am not. I have absolutely no interest in the concept of a silly Love Potion. However, that chair has nothing to do with that matter, so…'

'…I have no need to sit in it,' I teasingly add, but my curiosity wins.

So, I move toward it anyway and sit down. Immediately, the chair tilts backward and I shriek in surprise. It turns dark all around me and the entire chamber seems to vanish when stars begin to twinkle and moonlight starts shining. 'Astronomy section,' I mutter astonished.

'Brilliant, isn't it?' Voldemort comments. 'You can see the entire sky right here indoors if you want. No problems with clouds or other weather issues, and you can focus on the section you want to study, and even zoom in without the use of a telescope.'

'No way,' I think excited and say: 'Mars.'

The moonlight disappears and a red planet becomes visible in the centre of my eyesight. 'Wow.'

'Try southern hemisphere,' Voldemort suggests.

I do so, and it changes to that. I can see the sky here in the UK as if I am standing in Argentina. It's amazing. This is some piece of charms' work. I could sit here for an eternity, but I move out of the chair and continue to scout Morgan Le Fay's hideout. Without looking at it, I forcibly move myself past an obviously extensive Arithmancy section with pain in my heart. But I know if I take one look at it, someone will need to come with a serious crowbar to remove me from that particular place. And I did come here for another reason.

'Everon, elves, Amortentia,' I repeat it in my head like a mantra.

I glance over to the next cubicle and smirk condescendingly. Divination, no doubt, for I see crystal balls; tea supplies; Tarot cards; Astrology attributes, including statues of the twelve Zodiac signs; and a bunch of other rubbish.

'For someone who thinks Divination is a load of crap, you sure are placing a lot of value on the prediction that "Everon will rise",' Voldemort mocks.

'It's not just that prediction,' I rebut firmly. 'It's everything together, and this woman is at the heart of it all. I can feel it.'

'Going to turn into a Seer now, Granger?'

'Oh, shut up.'

A loud burst of annoying laughter is vocalised in my head next, but I pretend not to hear it and focus on my environment. A chamber with magical creatures is on my right, and I see an Occamy glaring at me, while coiling around its silvery eggs. A group of Doxies are flying through the centre of the place, while two Knarls are doing something I need to tilt my head for in order to understand how they accomplish that. A Billywig is bouncing against the magical wall repeatedly. And in the corner I see a couple of large yellow eyes on a brilliant green serpent with a scarlet plume on its head. I guess the walls protect the person walking behind it against the creatures inside very adequately, because that Basilisk's gaze should have killed me quite efficiently. Or maybe it's his presence inside of me that is keeping me safe? I shrug my shoulders. Still, it's astonishing how all those creatures live simultaneously in the same environment without, well, you know, killing and eating each other. I wonder how they get their meals, because I see two Murtlaps feasting on a pile of crustaceans.

I swiftly move past several other "chambers" before turning my head to the space on my left. There, I see a table turning into a chair, shifting into an umbrella before becoming an eagle; a cloud; lightning; fire; smoke; and then, it is a table again. It's obviously a place for studying Transfiguration. I stop in front of a blind wall. This appears to be the end of Morgan's hideout. But it can't be. Confused, I look back. What about the Dark Arts or Defence against it? I look at the wall again and push against it, but it is solid rock.

However, it knows magic. I move my hand against it and just feel. This is no ordinary wall. There must be a way through, but how? It stays silent inside of me and I growl.

'No need to make any suggestions here, darling,' I sarcastically sneer. 'Beware of the thought of Lord Voldemort, actually, helping a hand.'

'Yes, we can't possibly have that, can we?' is the amused response I get.

I scowl, and he grins. I just know he does.

So, I stare at the wall and rack my brain. There are like a zillion possibilities here. Trying them all will take me forever! It's when I remember Yoda's words: 'magic flows all around us'. Magic is inside everything. I need to focus on the magic of the wall; become one with it! That's it. It has to be.

'It took you long enough.'

I roll my eyes, before I focus on the wall. It's a little, nasty, dark wall; that one. I close my eyes and allow its magic to enter. When I notice it is fully consuming my body, I walk forward. Fortunately, the wall considers me dark enough and my movement doesn't result in a hard bump between my face and the wall in question. I open my eyes on the other side. My mouth falls ajar in astonishment; because it's one of the most luxurious chambers I have set foot in. This must be her private living room, separated from her workplace. And wow, was this woman fond of herself or what? I have never in my life seen so many mirrors.

But there is a small study area with books on my right and I walk toward it. 'Interesting collection,' I understate dryly, as my eyes scan the spines of some of the rarest and most dangerous Dark Arts volumes in existence.

My head turns to examine my whereabouts again. Besides all the comfort and luxury, I mainly notice the darkness. Dark magic fills up this very place. I decide to check out the two doors that are here first. The one with all the locks hides a disaster area. It is filled with spatters of blood, gore, bones, and all sorts of things I'd rather not identify. The smell coming from the room is so pervasively disgusting I close the door in a hurry. This must have been the spot where she tested her Dark Arts inventions. And I'd rather not think of what or who those chains on the walls were used on. I shiver and dread to open the other door, but I do it just the same. It shows a spiral staircase that leads up. When I reach the end of it, the view I am witnessing from the corridor is magnificent. I am glancing over the landscape from what must be inside the top of one of the large standing stones of Stonehenge.

There are two doors on either side of the corridor. One leads to a large bedroom, while the other was used to bath in. Both rooms are well lit due to the large magical windows, which let in the sunlight in full glory, while they must appear on the outside as pure stone surface. I walk to the nightstand and open the drawer. It contains underwear in even, colour coded stacks of anal retentive neatness. And yippee! Another mirror lies on said nightstand! One wouldn't want to miss seeing oneself for even a second. I snort condescendingly.

Still, this woman is so methodical and self-absorbed; everything just screams "I wrote my memoirs". I growl, because I have no idea where she could have hidden it when my eye falls on the pillow. Ginny hid the diary underneath hers.

'Oh please, Granger, that is a place for a child to hide something of importance.'

But when I pull back the pillow, I let out a shout in triumph. A red book lies underneath.

'Oh come on,' Voldemort hisses irritated. 'She actually hid it there of all places?'

'Didn't check this place?' I ask victoriously.

I feel his levels of irritation rise inside of me beyond belief, and I stick out my tongue to him. 'Let me guess you hid your sissy diary at a far better spot,' I mock.

'It was a journal, Granger, and it had a purpose.'

I snicker. 'Sure, dear, whatever.'

'But yes, if you must know, I hid my journal far better.'

'Yeah, you gave it to Malfoy,' I state dryly as I grab the red book and flip through the well-filled leaves. 'What? No witty comeback from that one?' I ask teasingly when it remains quiet.

'Just read the damn book already, Granger, so I will know what is in it too.'

Snickering, I place the pillows on a nice pile, make myself comfortable on the soft bed and start reading her life-story and most importantly, her ambitions, which are – if I may say so – somewhat out there. Talk about someone in dire need of professional, psychological assistance. Merlin, what a nutcase. Her lifelong ambition is to raise and control the dark powers of the underworld. Even Hades himself wouldn't want to unleash that kind of force upon the earth.

'Oh goody, you are not alone,' I comment to Voldemort, and I read out loud mockingly. 'For once I achieved my goal I will be the greatest, most powerful sorceress in the world and my kind will rule the earth forever.'

With her kind she means the elves. Apparently, the rumours about her heritage were indeed true, because she goes on about how elves are greater than humans, since elves are the ones who brought magic into this world. Humans are nothing but filth, who desecrate the earth and should be exterminated. Gosh, sounds familiar. But perhaps in her case it was an original thought? Nah, bigotry has probably been around as long as there have been breathing and thinking creatures.

However, she makes an exception for one human: Merlin. She raves on and on about his powers and how they are exceptionally grand. Morgan thinks that through him she can gain access to the underworld's powers. So, she plots and schemes to turn him to her dark side in order for her to access his powers and take over, but Miss Morgan fails miserably. Merlin is not interested. Then, she tries to turn the wizard as mad as hell and almost succeeds. According to her diary, Merlin was on the verge of insanity and within her grasp when he vanished. To say that pissed her off would be the understatement of the year. I have now learnt some new, very creative, Elfish swearwords that I do not care to ever repeat.

Anyway, she searches the entire planet for the man and finds him with his magical counterpart Viviane. Le Fay instantly realises the opportunity this situation grants her. If Merlin were to swallow all their joined magic, his powers would grow exponentially and he would make her goal a reality, or so she thinks. It's then when her actions become even fouler. Creating deception and distrust between the two, she is able to drive a wedge between them. For years, Merlin imprisons Viviane with their joined magic and his powers do grow tremendously. So, Morgan tries and the vortex to the underworld opens for her as always. But Morgan is furious when she still can't access Merlin's magic. The darkness of the underworld is still beyond her reach and it won't come into this world.

It is due to the fact that Merlin has not let go of the Light Force of magic completely. So, she tries to turn him fully against Viviane and sets a trap so he will kill her. But despite the betrayal Merlin thinks Viviane has committed, he cannot kill her for he loves her. In her fury over the disappointment of another plan gone astray, Le Fay drops her cover completely and attacks him, determined to claim his magical powers. They both battle to near death without a victor. It's when Viviane seizes the opportunity of Merlin's weakened state to free herself from his oppressive grasp. Le Fay witnesses how Merlin – who has finally realised the true colours and motives of Morgan Le Fay – deliberately allows Viviane to use his own magic against him.

'You will never be able to use me against my love again. I will not raise darkness into this world for your pleasure,' Merlin, mentally, tells Le Fay in triumph, before Viviane Apparates them away to an unknown location.

Another set of colourful words take up the next five (!) pages of Morgan's diary. The kindest words she uses are weak, mumbling, old fool and lovesick puppy. She is utterly ferocious about love thwarting her plans for world domination. Knowing Merlin is now beyond her reach, she searches for another means to create a powerful, dark wizard or witch. Mordred, her sister's child, is her second hope, but the boy does not have the strength to pull it off. She needs true evil that has no boundaries to draw the powers of the underworld to the face of this earth. A twinge of apprehension begins to fall upon me when I read that. Oh no. I know someone who fits the bill to that and I can feel his excitement inside of me, while I read this doomsday scenario.

'I FOUND IT! THE SOLUTION! A POTION THAT WILL CREATE EVIL AT ITS PUREST FORM! MY TICKET TO VICTORY!'

Large capitals are written in her diary as she celebrates her victory of finding a way to create a demonic child. She imprisons several couples and waits. But miscarriage after miscarriage occurs. However, Morgan has no more patience and she continues her Dark Arts Acts more and more out in the open. It's the biggest mistake she makes, because in her next diary entry she rants about her own kind; the elves. How they are all fools who tried to imprison her; HER! The greatest elf of all! How they tried to stop her from achieving greatness for them, and how she had to flee to her hideout, which she built in Merlin's Stonehenge of all places. 'None of those idiots will ever think to look for me here!' she wrote smugly.

Knowing she won't be able to use her Elfin magic outside these walls again – for the other elves will find her if she does – she decides on another, more timely method to go about achieving her goals. She makes sure the recipe to her "Pure-Evil-Creating Potion" gets out in the world and she takes great delight in calling it a Love Potion, so people will see no harm in it. Amortentia is the name she gives it.

The rest of her diary entries all focus on getting even with those who thwarted and opposed her. Her race, the elves, is at the top of her list. Her hatred for them is so huge, she is desperate to no longer be one and through her advanced Transfiguration skills in combination with several ghastly potions and Dark Arts Charms, she succeeds in turning herself into a new enhanced person – as she calls it. Her last entry is filled with jubilation on how she finally found a method to get even with all the elves. She cursed them into a life of servitude for the remainder of time to come. 'Everon is mine!' It's the last sentence on the last page that is written upon and I close the diary in disgust and fear. This is it: judgement day.

"For a decade Darkness will rule and Everon will rise. A choice must be made by the Founder of SPEW. She alone beholds the key to ultimate victory for one. Everon will rise."

What key? I have no bloody key! And no bloody way can I allow Everon to rise if it means what I think it does.

'Perfect, all that power will be mine,' Voldemort says satisfied inside of me.

'Are you crazy?' I shout aggravated, flinging to my feet when the door flies open and his other more physical persona stands in the doorway furiously. I guess Jareth lost his attention. A tense silence that seems to last forever embeds the room as we stare at each other.

Slowly, he steps aside, opening the door wider and gesturing with his hand toward me. 'Let's go,' he orders coldly.

Determined, I fold my arms over each other. 'I am not done here yet.'

His eyes flash red and he swirls toward me. I jump back, but his fingers already lock around my arms and he pulls me against him. 'I told you to get your cute arse home, my dear,' he hisses. 'Now, it may surprise you, but I do have better things to occupy my time with than to go around scouting the world for your whereabouts.'

'I didn't require your company nor did I request it, so feel free to go and occupy your time with those better things,' I snarl back.

His eyes narrow and his grip on my arms tightens considerably. 'Perhaps I should not have granted you access to your magical abilities just yet?'

'Too late to regret it now,' I sneer.

'Privileges can always be taken away,' he replies barely louder than a whisper.

'Not likely,' I respond firmly, with a flicker of unease in my stomach. I better be right about this. A gasp escapes me as I feel his attack on my magic. 'Focus Granger, focus,' I think.

Closing my eyes, I concentrate on blocking him out. It takes all of my effort, but finally the pressure subsides and I look back at him, breathing heavily.

He, on the other hand, has the nerve to smirk at me casually. 'Impressive performance, little one,' he whispers in my ear; his breath sends shivers down my spine. 'However, I don't think you will hold up if I make contact with myself.'

And to demonstrate his resolve he dives inside of me and accesses himself. It feels as if my head is exploding; like I am bound in his body and he is in mine, and I can no longer see the difference between us. I scream in agony and throw my head backwards; only to look down at myself in his grasp. There is no escape from this pain. And then, it ends … all of the sudden … just like that.

My knees buckle and I fall, but Voldemort still has a firm hold of me and he lifts me up in his arms. I land on soft pillows and sheets as he lays me down on the bed and sits beside me. He flicks his wrist and Morgan's journal flies in his hand. He starts flipping the pages as I examine myself shakily. He didn't take my magic. I can still feel it flowing through my veins, but yet I have never felt so feeble and cold in my life. I look concerned at my trembling hands. What the hell happened? Well, I know what happened, but by Godric, does it have to make me feel like some stupid damsel in distress, who faints upon the mere thought of having the wrong colour scarf with her matching outfit?

A snort inside of me insures to remember I am not alone here, and I glare up in aggravation at the person responsible for that. He is staring at a page in the journal with a blank, emotionless expression before he slams it shut, dumps it on the nightstand, and looks at me in quite the opposite manner. The intensity of his dark eyes is overwhelming as he takes my trembling hands and casts a Heating Charm on me.

'Hamlet said something about … your endeavours,' he softly says as he cups my cheek. 'I am afraid I didn't believe him at the time, but it seems I was mistaken.'

'That wouldn't be a first,' I reply coldly.

He strokes my hair gently. 'Now, now, be a good doggy, Hermione. You wouldn't want to spoil my great mood.'

Why, that miserable, no good… I fling myself upward in resentment, only to be captured by his arms again. A devious twinkle runs through his eyes as he smirks down at me in triumph. 'You are truly and fully mine, my dear. There is no need to pretend otherwise.'

'Perhaps you should stop treating me like some possession and realise I am my own person.'

'Perhaps I would … if you would acknowledge your person belongs to me.'

I sigh. Does he even listen to what he says? Argh! Why do I even bother? I am never gonna… 'Oohhhh,'I moan, and I turn weak in his arms as he hits me with some nonverbal cast spell.

His grip tightens and he lifts me slightly to gain access to my mouth with his; an access, which is fully granted by me. Because YAY to his kisses. I wrap my arms around his neck as he lowers me slowly and I feel his weight coming down to rest on my body. Oh well, another YAY to that too. It doesn't take long before our clothes are gone and we are both engaged into a delicious activity. I can't even begin to wrap my mind about anything else but him. Not to mention that I do think it is safe to say this whole Horcrux business seems to have certain advantages. Oh Godric, yessss, definite advantages. And a low groan leaves my lips when Voldemort accesses himself inside of me to manipulate my body beyond my wildest dreams.

'See,' he whispers smugly, while he is driving me insane. 'Every cell of your body knows who its true master is.'

I groan in a combination of wantonness and annoyance.

'Hmmm… I don't think your owner approves of a response like that,' Voldemort states loosely.

He waves his hand over my eyes. The world starts spinning around me and I cling to him for support, while he rolls us over so that I am now on top. I feel I am totally losing the control of my body to his Horcrux, and as his magic targets my sensitive areas, my previously annoyed groan quickly turns into a scream of exhilaration and I am absolutely positive I will loose my mind as I tingle all over. He assaults my throat with his mouth and I can feel him smirk against my skin when I tilt my head to grant him better access.

'Much better, dearest,' he whispers, while his hands massage the back of my spine. 'You do know how to obey your superiors, don't you?'

Oh, sure, whatever. Just don't stop doing whatever it is you are doing.

A snicker vibrates against me and his fingers take a hold of the base of my skull, while I feel a sudden familiar pressure against one of my lower vertebrae. Oh fuck! I recognise the Sex Magic spell he has just cast on me by the desperate needy sensation it gives inside of me. Quickly, I try to fling as much of my naked body against him, but right before I do so, he has levitated me into the air and I am helplessly hanging there. Flustered, I stare at his calm and collective figure beneath me on the bed. He lazily places his hands behind his head, gives me a deviously relaxed smile and has the gall to wink at me, while I am practically burning up here. I need contact with him. So, I place my hands on his chest. His gaze intensifies when I stroke his skin gently.

'I did not give you permission to touch me, doll.'

I freeze up, my eyes widen and I shriek when I am suddenly tossed over in midair. My eyes are falling on the rocky surface of the ceiling, while I try to move my arms and legs to somehow catch a balance in this environment without any support. But I am not in control of anything anymore, he has immobilised me thoroughly. My limbs are hanging uselessly beside my body and the complete lack of any contact now is making me scream in desire, because what was a dull throbbing between my legs has become an antagonising painfully empty pounding inside of me. Oh God, I need him. I am dying here.

'I know you are, Hermione,' he smoothly states. 'It's how that charm operates.'

I notice he has risen from the bed and is now standing beside me with a smug smirk on his face. 'Please,' I beg, and I shudder when his hand caresses my perspiring torso teasingly.

'I got to say this is quite an interesting experience for me,' Voldemort continues matter-of-factly, while his hand is now tracing upward on the inside of my thigh. 'I've never felt the effects of this charm from the perspective of whom it is cast upon. It is most intriguing.' His hand squeezes me between my legs and I cry out, yearning for more.

He smirks again. 'Like I said, intriguing,' he exclaims, satisfied.

'Please, lower me,' I whisper, because this unnatural floating posture is freaking me out.

He takes a hold of my head with both hands and gazes down at me. 'Don't you like the idea of having sex in midair, my dear, or is it the feeling of helplessness that is terrifying you? Because I got to say I do love seeing you completely at my mercy.'

He laughs as he whirls me around effortlessly, spreads my legs and blows his breath against my core. I want to buck toward him, but I have no support, so I can't move anywhere, and I keep hanging feebly and motionlessly there, while my need for him intensifies.

'And the access your current position is granting me is also quite convenient,' he adds mischievously.

His mouth attacks the tender flesh between my legs, making me shiver relentlessly, while every sensory nerve in my body overloads. I trash and yell out his name as his tongue flicks over my clit and investigates the inside of my vagina. 'Yesss, right there. Oh fuck.'

For what feels like an eternity, he drives me absolute nuts with his ministrations. His hands roam over my body before he grabs a firm hold of my hips, pushes me down and impales me roughly. I gasp when I feel my muscles clench around him and he hits that sensitive spot inside. Finally.

'Wrap your legs around me, Hermione, I don't want to do all the work,' he breathes out after he has moved me back and forth over his cock a couple of times on his own.

He doesn't have to say it twice. I quickly do so in order to pull him in further. We move in sync as he pushes my hips away with his hands and I drag myself back toward him with my legs. Despite the fact that I am finally getting some relief of the burning tension that was building up inside of me, I still feel somewhat uneasy due to my hovering position. I am kind of concerned what will happen when he climaxes and loses control of himself and his magic. I'd rather not plummet to the ground, head first. Considering I still have no control over my upper body, I can just see it happening. Stars dwindle in front of my eyes after another well aimed stroke and I can feel the onset of my orgasm.

'Please, ohhhhh…, please lower me,' I breathe out in between moans and delicious sensations.

It seems to occur to Voldemort as well why I desire this. However, instead of lowering me, he swings me upwards and allows me control of my arms again. Swiftly, I grab a hold of him around his shoulders and my forehead rests against his as we stand there motionless and panting in our embrace for a second.

'Your appalling lack of trust in my magical abilities sounds to me like an assumption Lord Voldemort would feel the need to prove incorrect immediately, wouldn't you agree Hermione?'

I hold my breath and watch that darn twinkle dart through his eyes, concerned. Oh no. I shriek and grab a tight hold of him with my arms and legs when he swirls us both up in the air as I feared and positions us to hover horizontally. Great, terrific, I should have known.

'Do you have to make a point of everything?' I ask, exasperated.

'Of course, don't you know me by now? But look on the bright side,' he responds teasingly, 'if you are right and I lose control, at least Iwill land softly.'

'Oh, that is really – really funny.'

'It is, isn't it?' he says snickering. 'Hold on,' he adds, and he lets go of my hips.

'What are you doing?' I panic, while tightening my side of the embrace to the best of my abilities, which is hard I tell you, because we are both perspiring rather severely and that makes it all rather slippery with not much to hold onto.

'I am going to kiss you,' he answers casually, as his left arm wraps around my waist and his other hand takes a hold of my head to pull me into an all consuming kiss.

I am about to protest indignantly that I can't possibly hold on for much longer when I realise my body is really hovering and has no gravitational pull whatsoever, so I don't need to carry my weight.

'I was wondering how long it would take you to realise that,' Voldemort replies inside my mind. 'But I do appreciate how you are pressing your body against me. It feels rather nice when you pull me so strongly inside of you, especially since your fear makes you even tighter.'

In a reflex I loosen my legs somewhat and exit him fully. But my Sex-Charm-affected body is in total disagreement of my move there, and in another reflex, I re-establish my previous position around the same time as Voldemort uses his magic to trust inside of me again. The impact of both our moves is tremendously.

'Ohhh…,' I moan and my head swirls backward, while I feel his fingers dig deep into my skin.

'Yessss,' he groans.

'Worthy of repeating,' I think ecstatically.

From the movements that follow, it is clear I wasn't the only one thinking that. Soon, his scent - his every being is intoxicating me thoroughly, and as we exercise in midair feverishly, I totally forget about all my previous protests against this position. Well, who would remember when someone is treating their body to this much excellent attention and care with furore? It's almost like we are merging into one being during our sexual intercourse. My heart is racing, it's contracting almost painfully inside my chest; my breaths are shallow and rapid; my body starts shaking; and I scream his name as I cling to him firmly upon my climax.

It's when it happens…

We crash-land on the bed, because Mr I-Am-Soooo-In-Control lost it. I giggle insanely underneath him, until he lifts his upper body and looks me straight into my eyes – with a huge smug grin on his face. 'Aren't you going to thank me for moving us above the bed?' he asks unabashed.

I snort. 'Thank you for prmm…'

His excellent kiss smothers the rest of my response and I let the matter slide, because really … I have far more pressing matters; matters such as cuddling up against this delicious man. He strokes through my hair and kisses me on my forehead before moving his body down next to me. So, I end up lying beside him utterly content, while my heartbeat slows down again and my breaths are finally returning to normal.

'That was…,' I halt, '…unbelievable,' I finish, looking sideways into his dark eyes.

A mischievous twinkle runs through them as he takes a hold of me again and pulls me on my side to face him. 'Enjoyed yourself that much, my dear?'

'Absolutely,' I respond nodding. 'I wouldn't mind seconds either.'

'And what's in it for me then?' he asks smirking.

I shrug my shoulders casually. 'No idea,' I reply, cocking my head. 'What would you want?'

'Now, I'd have to think about that,' he says, gazing at me intensely.

My breath falters and my heart skips a beat, because his eyes are intoxicating. When he catches your attention, you can't look away. You just want to drown into those pitch-black pools of his, forever. I feel his arms pulling me close. An overwhelming emotion of security flows through me and I smile at him. I don't think there is a single thing I wouldn't do for this man. I stroke his chest and my head moves to kiss him there. I love being in his arms. I never want to be anywhere else. His hand strokes through my hair. I like it when he does that. He makes me feel wanted and taken care of when he does that. I like being taken care of for a change, instead of doing all the work. I snuggle up against him. I really truly love this man. He is amazing.

'Surrender to me,' a genteel voice rings in the back of my head.

I adore that voice. It makes me feel safe and whole. I want to listen to it. A kiss is placed on top of my head. 'Surrender to me, Hermione,' the voice repeats. 'I'll protect you. You will never have to worry about anything ever again.'

That would be nice. I have so much to worry about; though, for the life of me, I can't quite remember what it was.

'It doesn't matter, my dear, I've got you. You will always be mine.'

I like that.

'I know you do.'

I look up straight into Lord Voldemort's eyes. I am mesmerised by them. I want to feel that intense gaze on me for eternity. I want to be in his care.

'Then, come to me,' he orders, and I feel a sudden pressure in my mind. 'Come to me, Hermione.'

Yes, I will. And I feel the pressure increasing.

'Let yourself go, sweetheart, just open your mind to me and let me take over.'

A string of doubt forms inside of me, and a sudden apprehension befalls on me. I don't like it, so I try to push him away. But he tightens his grip. 'Let go,' I demand, trying to push harder against his chest, but my arms seem to malfunction.

'Never,' Lord Voldemort responds surely, 'you will succumb to me now, Hermione; I can sense you want to.'

'Let me go,' I repeat fearfully, because the part of me that wants to listen to him frightens me more than anything else in the world.

'No, Hermione, you don't want me to let go. I am inside of you and I know what you really want. You are tired of fighting. You are tired of having to take responsibility over everything and everyone all the time. You are sick of having to be the sensible, mature one when you want to be the one who is dominated; who is taken care of. You want peace of mind and I can give you just that.'

A possessive kiss smothers my denial, and he rolls on top of me. 'Now, be a good girl, stop this ridiculous fighting, and listen to your master,' he snarls and his eyes flash red upon his words.

I feel the core of my sex jumping in excitement as he pushes my legs apart and presses his pelvis against mine. 'Listen to your needs,' he adds smoothly and he places his hand on my chest. 'Feel how your heart beats only for me. Allow me to hold it, to control it, to take possession of you, my dear.'

Oh gosh, this attitude of him is turning me on significantly. And he knows it. I can see it in his eyes; they have a tremendously predatory, red glint in them. Like he wants to eat me whole. He probably does.

'Indeed, I do,' he whispers, sucking and kissing on my neck. 'I want to know every part of you, Hermione. I want access to that magnificent mind of yours. Surrender it, and you will not regret it.'

I look at him in despair. I am not sure why I am feeling it. I think it is because I know he is right. I want him to be in charge of me. But I also know I can't allow it to happen and it is tearing me apart. I feel tears starting to form in my eyes, and he wipes them away with a caring expression on his face. 'Don't fight who you are, Hermione; you will only hurt yourself in the long run if you do.'

'I can't,' I breathe desperately, 'please stop. Don't ask this of me.'

'But you want this, darling; and I am not asking, I am telling you to surrender.'

'I can't,' I whisper, turning my head away. 'I just can't. There is too much at stake.'

In utter silence he places a kiss on top of my head. 'You are more mine already than you know, Hermione.' He rolls to the side and abandons the bed. A casual flick of his wand cleans us up and dresses us.

'I never denied that,' I whisper in response, and I look up more firmly. 'But do you have to be a controlling arse about it?'

'I am who I am, darling. I will not change.'

'I never asked you to change!' I holler and I swirl from the bed also. 'You are the one who is demanding changes. Why can't you just trust someone to not stab you in the back for once?'

He blinks, and I advance on him, pricking him in the chest with my index finger to emphasise my very important point. 'You can deny it all you want, but I know you know I was there. You conjured the painting and the dog; you made me your Patronus all by your lonely self. So just stop this stupid charade and get over yourself. You don't even want me to surrender. It would bore you to tears if I did.'

'Don't presume to think you even have the slightest grasp of the inner workings of a mind far superior to yours, Granger. It's your foolish resistance that is boring me.'

'Funny how you conveniently skip over the dog issue now,' I sneer.

'I am not skipping over the Patronus. I have decided to ignore it as I do with everything that has no relevance to me.' He grabs my chin harshly and redness is taking over his eyes as he glares down at me. 'Get it into that thick Mudblood mind of yours very fast that Lord Voldemort does not need nor cares for anyone. Now, we are leaving.' And he swirls away, slamming the door into the wall roughly.

'Liar,' I mutter softly to the empty room.

A small cough reminds me I am still not alone in that empty room.

'What?' I ask tauntingly. 'Does the scared, little snaky needs his cute, fluffy doggy now to hold onto? Maybe I can pretend to waggle a tail? Might that help you to grow up and admit to something?'

'Excuse me?'

I laugh. 'You are so pathetically transparent it's rather entertaining. I should start a poll, but then again, the odds… the odds…' And I roar with laughter.

'Have you lost it completely, Granger?'

'Yes, dear, I am the one, who is losing it,' I mock, while pacing to the nightstand and pocketing the journal. The mirror that lies there shines my reflection back at me and I halt to watch the Amulet of Aine; made in Everon at Yoda's request. It makes no sense, no sense at all. I pull at the necklace and watch the emerald stone as I move back to the door. 'Everon is mine.' Well, we'll just see about that.

I race down the stairs, because I may not be able to comprehend the Amulet fully without Yoda or Maglor's explanation, but I do know one thing. Le Fay created Amortentia and it is supposed to be some ticket to victory. So if I find a method of neutralising it, we might be able to shift the outcome in our advantage.

'I think it is already working in my advantage,' Voldemort says smoothly.

I turn to his physical persona that stands beside the door at the end of the stairs furiously. 'Stay the hell in your own mind,' I hiss.

'We are leaving, darling. I have no need to waste my time on researching the effects of a silly potion.'

I pull the red journal from my pocket and toss it at him. 'Maybe you weren't paying attention when you reconnected with yourself, but that silly potion was made for a reason and as long as we are not sure how things are going to turn out, it may be wise to look for a method to neutralise its effects in case it is not beneficiary to your ridiculous goals.'

Angrily, I stamp away through the nasty, dark wall before he can reply, so I never notice the smirk on his face that accompanies my statement. Quickly, I move back to the Potions section and open the drawer marked Aagain. It has to be there. The woman was obviously as brilliant as she was mad and she was known for her extraordinary healing capabilities. She must have created a general one. The one potion every Potions Master wants to invent. She must have done it. I almost shriek in triumph when I find it.

'And just how were you planning to neutralise a potion you know nothing more of than how to brew it?' Voldemort asks behind me.

I pull a couple of joined parchments and push them under his nose, while I move to the ingredients cabinet smugly.

'Antidote Potion?' Voldemort says, glancing at me somewhat pitifully. 'Do you really think it will be that simple?'

I turn around with several ingredients in my arm and dump them on the worktable. 'Yes, it is exactly what I think,' I say haughtily, 'it's precisely the kind of … simple solution a brilliant mind like Le Fay would overlook, because it is too obvious to even acknowledge the possibility of it spoiling her plans.' I snatch the parchments back from him and glance at the rest of the long list of ingredients before I gather them too and light the cauldron, for preheating as ordered. 'Besides,' I say over my shoulder as I pull a vial of Amortentia from a shelf, 'it's not like this general Antidote Potion is an easy potion to brew.'

There is no response to my rightful statement, naturally. Whenever I am right, he turns silent. I smirk in triumph, while I dump the Glühwein and the Amortentia in the cauldron and turn the heat of the flame to half its size as ordered. I reread the entire recipe a couple of times and place it beside the cauldron, while I pick a silver knife to start cutting the ingredients that need to be added next. And while I am busy chopping gillyweed, guess who has conjured himself a chair and sat down in it? Yeah, that's right; have a cookie. Irritated, I look in his direction from the corner of my eye; lazy bugger. So, I chop a bit harder than absolutely necessary, which causes an even more annoying snicker to reach my eardrums. I swirl around.

'You know it wouldn't hurt you if you picked up a knife yourself and chopped either the pinewood, charcoal, or the Amanita Phalloides; from all three I need rather large quantities in perfectly even cubicles,' I snarl, while waving with my silver knife in his direction.

An amused glance is cast in my direction and a very well executed Slytherin smirk graces his snakelike features. Oh why do I even bother? I growl and am about to turn back to my gillyweed when I see his hand move in my direction, and I freeze up as a dash of red charges past my body so close by, a hair couldn't fit between it and me. However, it impacts on the potions ingredients instead and … decimates them. I glance at the cubicles of pinewood, charcoal and Amanita, which are cut to perfection. I doubt there is even a thou difference between them all.

'Show off,' I grumble, while turning around and stabbing the gillyweed harshly.

Rather loud laughter sounds behind me AND inside of me. Can you say annoying? Because I surely can. Fortunately, there is a lot of gillyweed that I can vent my emotions on, because otherwise… who knows? He is lucky I've had a lot of practise brewing potions around aggravating and distracting Slytherins, so I am able to focus my attention back on the complicated potion.

The list of ingredients is huge and the directions to brew it are almost five pages long. I stir the now boiling Glühwein three times clockwise and add the gillyweed, stir three times anti clockwise, add half the pinewood while simultaneously stirring in an eight, twice, and add the Amanita Phalloides in precisely two-and-a-half minutes, while stirring back and forth. The charcoal is next. I continue with the instructions, and soon, I am perspiring from the steam that is swirling from the cauldron and the concentration that is needed to make the potion correctly. So far I made it to page three of Le Fay's directions without any problems when I read: 'Before adding three drops of Acromentula Venom make sure your Potion is now midnight blue.'

I glance at my cauldron, while filling a pipette with Acromentula Venom and holding it above my potion. Well … I suppose that colour could be…? I scratch my head and wish I had an example. It's definitely dark. But would this be dark enough, or too dark and not blue enough, or too blue and not da…? A shriek of shock leaves my lips and I almost dump the entire contents of the pipette into the potion when Voldemort takes a hold of my waist and pulls me against him.

'What are you doing? You almost made mmmme…'

But I never get to finish my sentence; because he pulls my head back by my hair and presses his lips on mine. Immediately, his tongue is demanding entry, but I am struggling to get loose, because I really need to add those three drops. What if the potion gets ruined if it's not added promptly? His grip on my hair tightens and a little warning pull at it makes me open my mouth to comply with his wishes. As his tongue roams my mouth, his hand falls on mine and he guides me to place the pipette back on the table. My eyes flutter shut and, leaning against him with my back, I surrender myself into his arms; into his care. Because, by Godric, when that man kisses you, even an angel would forget about getting her wings; and I am no angel.

Next, he brushes me with his magic and I am glad he has me pinned down between his body and the half-circular table, because I don't think my knees would be able to keep me upright anymore. Every bit of tension inside my muscles, which has been building up during the brewing of the potion, slowly diminishes and a deep, thorough sense of relaxation flows through me. It feels really, really nice and I want to feel like this forever. So I whimper when his mouth abandons mine. My eyes fly open in longing for more, and a smug smile combined with his intense gaze is what greets me. Long, soft and gentle fingers are caressing my face and for a moment I close my eyes again to enjoy the way my skin feels underneath his touch.

'You rationalise too much,' Voldemort softly says.

'What?' I ask dumbfounded, and my eyes fly open again.

'You've read the instructions to that potion so many times that you must have memorised it entirely by now, and still you keep checking the parchment over and over again.'

'So? I don't want to error.'

'And your fear of failure is what is holding you back.'

I sputter something incomprehensible back in resentment. Because really, this is a very difficult potion and it is only common sense to… 'EH!' I shout in disbelief and outrage when Voldemort sets fire to Le Fay's parchments.

I reach out to make an attempt to salvage it, but he grabs both my wrists and stops me. 'Trust me, Hermione,' he whispers into my ear.

Oh for crying out loud, I still had two whole pages to go! Why does he always have to make everything difficult?

'I absolutely despise easy,' Voldemort responds inside of me, snickering. 'Besides, I don't think Acromentula Venom is a good idea to add to this particular antidote you're trying to create.'

'It said so in the recipe,' I bristle.

'Oh, then it must be right; anal retentive follower of the letter of the text,' he teases.

'EH!'

'Granger, really, your desire to stick precisely to the writings of others is what's holding you back from achieving greatness. Think about what you're trying to do instead of just following the given texts blindly.'

I frown. I do remember my sixth year when Harry suddenly had far better grades in Potions than me, because my stubbornness refused me to divert from the official guidelines. However, that was all Professor Snape's fault for not making sure the official textbook was corrected ages ago.

'I am sure Severus was absolutely horrified when he realised he enhanced Potter's grades,' Voldemort states, amused. 'Now, can we focus on this potion again? Unless, of course, you are planning to poison me, in which case I'd advise to take the far quicker route of …'

I hit my head upon the table. 'You burned the recipe,' I say tiresomely. 'I did not memorise those two last pages and…'

'Doesn't matter; they were useless anyway. Come on, Hermione; use that brilliant mind of yours for a change. Think about Acromentula Venom and what it will do to…'

'Oh.' I slam my hand in front of my mouth. I forgot about an ingredient of Amortentia. 'Ashwinder eggs,' I mutter in a small voice. 'Oops.'

'Yes, oops,' Voldemort repeats dryly, 'it's a rather explosive combination with that particular venom, don't you think?'

I look at the boiling midnight blue potion, disappointed. Well, that's one plan scuppered. There is no way I can create that general Antidote Potion to work for Amortentia without blowing myself to Kingdom Come.

'So, it seems Le Fay's brilliant mind did consider this simple solution and was probably hoping someone would try it,' he sneers.

Angrily, I try to turn around, but he still has me pinned to the table quite effectively. 'You've realised this from the start, haven't you?' I hiss. 'Couldn't you have said something before I spent…,' I check the time, 'three bleeding hours on it!'

'Why, happy birthday, Hermione,' he whispers, kissing me on my cheek.

'Funny,' I mutter, while I look back at the clock confused. It's just after midnight. Is it really the nineteenth already? Time surely flies when you're having fun. I roll my eyes. 'You know normal people don't let another work on a useless endeavour for hours as a birthday present,' I sneer at him.

'Excellent point; fortunately, it's hardly proven that this has been a useless endeavour yet, and … I do have this.'

A small, rectangular box is placed in front of me on the table. I blink and then stare at it dumbfounded. He got me a gift?

'Aren't you going to open it?' he whispers in my ear mischievously.

'Well, now I am suddenly undecided whether it is safe to do so.'

'I stopped you from blowing yourself up.'

'You mean you prevented yourself from being blown to smithereens.'

'Well, there is that too,' he muses. 'It must not be that dangerous then, considering my proximity to you at the moment.'

'Perhaps the threat is gender specific,' I suggest.

'Perhaps…,' he repeats amused, moving my hair to one side so my neck is laid bare before him and he takes the Amulet in his hand. 'But then again, we are both immortal at the moment, so let's not get overly worried.'

Feather light kisses are distracting me tremendously, while I open the box and see a solid stick of vine wood. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. He can't possibly be giving me my wand back.

'Like it?' Voldemort whispers in between kissing my neck.

That man is just one big barrel of contradictions! 'You just threatened to take my magic from me a few hours ago,' I remind him, stunned.

'Well, if you don't want it back…' And he reaches for the box.

Quickly, I snatch my wand away. 'No. I mean yes. I mean… thank you,' I whisper, tilting my head slightly in order to kiss him on the lips. He doesn't need any more incentive.

When we finally break for air, he smiles at me. 'So, how do you solve the Acromentula Venom problem?'

'With a Bezoar!' I shout excited and I Accio one with my wand from the storage. 'The Bezoar will render the venom harmless, but only temporarily considering the potency of Acromentula Venom. However, it may just be long enough to make sure it has reacted with the other ingredients before coming into contact with the Ashwinder compounds of Amortentia.'

'If you're wrong, we are going to turn into very, very small bits and pieces.'

'Why, and I thought it was I, who was afraid of failure,' I snicker as I toss a slice of the Bezoar into the pipette, which contains the Acromentula Venom.

'It's not failure that I fear, my dear; it's something infinitely worse.'

'Well, considering we are both supposedly immortal…' I shrug.

'That's placing an awful lot of trust into that Elfin trinket's powers we have yet to confirm,' Voldemort replies cautiously.

I lift the pipette, while looking him in the eye. 'I am sure you would be safe behind those enchanted walls of Le Fay's.'

'I don't doubt it,' he says calmly, while wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me tightly.

'Are you sure you wore the real Sorting Hat?' I sass, mocking his Gryffindoric attitude.

And I add three drops of the venom into the potion, closing my eyes tightly and cringing together a bit. When nothing happens, I carefully peek at the potion with one eye. 'AH! It worked!' I cheer triumphantly and somewhat relieved. I like my limbs attached to my body, thank you very much.

Voldemort leans over my shoulder to look into the cauldron more diligently. 'Hmmm… it seems you are cor… Protego Horribilis!'

An enormous bang sounds and the force of the explosion throws us into the magical wall. The power of the ward definitely is sufficient, because it doesn't even blink a bit upon the pounding it receives. As we crash to the floor with Voldemort's Shield Charm still surrounding us, there remains nothing left of the once proud and exemplarily Potions lab.

'When you do fuck up, you sure do it exceptionally well,' Voldemort mumbles underneath me.

I feel my cheeks flush and for once I have no good comeback, while Voldemort pushes us both into a more seated position. I destroyed an ancient Potions lab, a historic site. Blimey.

I blink when a mouse darts around my head. I've seen stars before, but never mice. So, I must have hit my head unnoticeably during that blast or I need to have my eyes checked, because I am seeing flying mice in a Po… former Potions lab. Flying silvery mice! While my mind starts to function again, Voldemort accepts the Patronus' message. I'll eat Merlin's hat if I could just figure out how he has achieved this, because I am right here, sitting on the floor beside him, and I can't hear a thing, not one measly syllable of that message.

'We have to go,' Voldemort says, getting to his feet and pulling me along with him.

'Why; whereto?'

'Brazil,' he shortly states.

Everon! 'No wait, we are not…'

Crack!

He has spun us around the spot and Apparated us both there. 'Thought I might be able to go through her wards with our combined magic,' Voldemort notes smugly.

His smugness just makes me want to finish my previously started sentence. 'We are not ready for this,' I hiss infuriated.

'I am always ready and I always win,' Voldemort responds haughtily. He swirls around to take in the environment.

So, I decide to do the same, all the while shaking my head over this stupid arrogant act of his. We are standing dead centre in a field surrounded by trees. Sloan and a couple of people are standing several feet away. It's obvious they must be locals, considering the look of terror on their faces clearly indicates they have never seen the Dark Lord in person before. In the nearby distance, the gates of Everon shine. Liam Sloan moves toward the Dark Lord and nods his head politely. 'My Lord, you wanted to know if anything concerning Everon altered in the last couple of weeks.'

'Yes, I remember what I told you to find out, Liam. Stop wasting my time and tell me what happened.'

'According to these people, there have been tremors of the earth followed by brief moments of dark lightning.'

'And the walls have risen,' a little boy squeaks, before his father claps his hand around the child's mouth fearfully.

'What is that?' the Dark Lord asks abruptly.

'My son is often imagining things, my Lord,' the man replies with his head down.

I see the boy is making an attempt to shake no, while his head is still in his father's grasp, and I am sure it is not escaping Voldemort's attention either. I am right.

'Remove that hand; I'd like to hear what your son has to say,' Voldemort orders coldly.

'The walls of Everon are higher than before,' the boy immediately says as his father's hand has barely left his lips. 'They used to come only to the third thick branch of the old oak tree over there, and now, the top is just as high as the fifth branch; see?' And he points excitedly in the direction of the oak; he seems happy to finally be able to share his knowledge.

Everyone, including me, looks at the ancient tree. The boy is right. The Everon wall reaches up to the fifth branch. I look at the difference in height between the third and the fifth branch. It's not a big elevation, but just the kind of thing only a child would notice. Voldemort seems to come to the same conclusion, because he nods his head. 'Well, uhm…?' and he looks questioningly at the boy.

'Marhino,' the boy responds.

'It is very observant of you to notice this, Marhino,' he praises the boy. 'You obviously are a great wizard to see what no one else did.'

I close my eyes and sigh inwardly, recognising the smooth manipulation to elicit more information from Marhino expediently. The Dark Lord's charm doesn't fail him, not even with these looks, because Marhino practically glows with pride and opens his mouth again. 'They say that when the walls rise, the Elf Queen will return to rule the earth.'

'Do they?' Voldemort responds interested.

I frown, while parts of the monk's prophecy resonate in my head. Everon will rise. Victory for one.

'My Lord,' the father replies daringly; he now obviously fears for his son's safety. 'Marhino loves stories; he has always wanted them to be real. He has yet to learn the difference between fairytales and reality. It's just an old story that has been told around here for generations. Marhino has a vivid imagination and...'

'I find that having a vivid imagination is the key to new discoveries and success,' Voldemort interrupts quietly, and he winks at Marhino. 'And old legends usually have some bits and pieces of truth in it.' He strolls past them and looks at the gates of the Elfin Kingdom. 'Anything else you can tell me, Marhino?' he asks, while sending a warning glance to the father not to interfere anymore.

Marhino shakes his head, disappointed. Voldemort moves away, so I smile at the boy and his father and make a small gesture with my hands at them to back down. The father gets my drift and pulls his son with him back into the little group of people. No need for them to draw anymore attention to themselves; it can only end badly. A murmur runs through the people and some of them are pointing to the sky behind me in fear. I see Sloan step forward curiously in the peripheral vision of my eyes. So, I turn around too and see how - behind Lord Voldemort's body - a large plum of fire hits the sky from somewhere in the centre of the forest of Everon. A crack; and Jareth Apparates in on the edge of the clearing. Voldemort's head briefly turns in the direction of the Knight, but he dismisses Jareth's presence by refocusing his attention back on Everon.

I, however, look with concern at Jareth's serious expression, and our eyes lock. 'It's up to you now, Hermione,' Jareth's voice sounds in my head.

I bite my lip and look around. The locals have already fled the scene, which would probably be the sanest thing to do, I gather. Because the fire is now blackening the sky; dark thunderclouds culminate around it, and then, the fire dies out suddenly. But the thunderstorm is already spreading sideways in every direction, roaring and bellowing in ever expanding power. A lightning bolt strikes a solemn tree in the middle of the clearing. And I stare at the smouldering tree in a strange form of recognition. I've seen this before. I've been here before. I've failed here before.

Another flash electrifies the air around us, making my skin crawl. It's not a normal storm for I feel its evil origin. This is not Mother Nature wielding her powers. Fear strikes my heart when I recall this storm felt exactly the same in my dreams, in my nightmare. This storm of darkness is no stranger to me. My eyes fall on Lord Voldemort. This is the same storm that struck him down, while I considered him to be somebody else. I thought he was Harry. Quickly, I move toward him and grab his hand. Not this time. I am not letting go this time.

Lord Voldemort looks down on me and frowns, but he is not withdrawing his hand. He just gazes at me and I tighten my grip. I can't let go. I can't. Disaster will be upon us if I do.

'My Lord!' Sloan shouts and he points at the gates. A dash of red from Jareth smashes in his chest and tosses him through the air out of the clearing where Sloan crash-lands in the bushes.

I feel Voldemort turn to Jareth, probably to curse him into the next life, but I see what Sloan meant. The chains around the gates are gone, and behind it stand an army of elves. 'No,' I whisper and pull at Voldemort's arm to get his attention to the real threat at hand, 'look.'

His eyes follow my outstretched hand when lightning strikes the gates, causing the pointed tips to light a fire, which burns into the ground. Within seconds, it spreads to form a full circle around us at the very edges of the clearing. I swirl around, letting go of Voldemort's hand, but I can see nothing beyond the fire that quickly forms a dome around the both of us. I can't even see Jareth anymore. I cast a spell at the dome of fire. But my spell doesn't penetrate through it at all; it merely extinguishes on impact.

'Interesting shielding,' Voldemort says casually, like it doesn't concern him the slightest.

And I look at him in astonishment. 'Interesting? Interesting!' I start to roar.

A high, piercing shriek permeates the air and I cringe. The gates of Everon burst open. A cloud of blackness swarms into the clearing and I cover my head. The flapping of wings is all I hear next as ravens fill the air before one of them glides down and, as it lands, it transfigures into a dark-haired, skinny, white-faced woman wearing a blood-red cloak, which beholds the pentagon star symbol of Morgan Le Fay on the back. Her green, olive-shaped eyes and somewhat pointed ears are the only reminder of her Elfin heritage as she moves and turns around to stretch her otherwise human appearing body and neck.

'The air of the earth,' she says satisfied. 'It reeks so much better than that dustbin called Everon. Wouldn't you agree, Maglor?' And her rather unpleasant laugh fills the air.

Surprised, I look around the woman and I see a lonesome, male elf standing just outside the gates with a solemn, blank expression on his face. He is not responding to the taunting rhetorical question, but he folds his arms over each other and just watches as the woman turns away from him with a scathing look. Where did the other elves go?

'So,' she says contemplatively, looking Lord Voldemort up and down with a mocking grin, 'you must be the answer to my dreams come true.' She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. 'Oh yes, so much power … it will do nicely.'

'I was just thinking something along the same line, Miss … Le Fay,' Voldemort replies smoothly, and I notice him moving sideways in a deceptive casual manner.

'And clever too,' she muses. 'But I do prefer Morgana. Miss is far too formal between family, isn't that right? After all, in a sense I am your creator,' Morgana smiles. 'However, I'd keep that wand in my pocket if I were you, dear boy; I doubt you are fast enough.'

Before anyone is able to respond loud pops sound all around us and Le Fay roars with laughter when House-elves appear everywhere through the fire. 'Look what the cat dragged in,' she mocks.

Kreacher steps forward with narrowed eyes. 'You will fail today and I will be pleased to ram this on your head,' he croaks, while waving a pan around.

'Oh I am soooo scared now. What are you going to do? Mop the floor with me? Use your ancient knowledge on dust removal to clean me up,' she mocks, spreading her arms out wide. 'I'll tell you what, Kreacher. Why don't you go, be a good little servant, and cook something. Then I might – perhaps – forget you were here, once I gain absolute power,' Morgana hisses viciously. 'Because we all know you lot can't touch a single hair of me in your measly condition now.'

'When Mistress Hermione eliminates your hold, you'd better be prepared to run hard and fast, because we have been waiting thousands of years for our revenge,' another House-elf squeaks furiously.

'Oh yes,' Morgana calls out in triumph. 'Hermione Jean Granger, the champion of House-elf rights. You must feel like an utter fool now, don't you little girl?'

'Why? Because it turns out you were the one who cursed your own kind into servitude?' I reply, folding my arms over each other decisively. 'Where did the others go anyway?'

'The others?' Morgana replies confused. 'Oh, you mean the other Everon elves. Well, there aren't any. They were all an illusion, my dear. Everon is just one gigantic illusion drawn before human eyes. This is all what remains of a once great and powerful race,' and she points mockingly to the House-elves. 'Wonderful punishment isn't it? So befitting to their insolence against me. Now, they have to serve those unworthy creatures they tried so desperately to protect against my evil ways. Humans,' she spits. 'Scum of the earth … they do not honour nor worship the wealth that is granted them, but instead they soil everything with their incessant presence, polluting the very air they need to breathe.'

'Ah, here we go with the bigotry again,' I sigh. 'Let me guess … yadi, yadi, yada; I am so much better… yep, yep, yep; another group is beneath me … yack, yack, yack; hence they do not deserve to live, so we will torture and kill them all, because we are so superior.'

'Indeed, I am,' she states haughtily, 'I do not destroy my living environment.'

'No, you want to raise the dark powers of the underworld into this living environment. Now that's a healthy endeavour, which doesn't ruin anything at all,' I mock.

'Why, aren't you a well-informed little witch,' Morgana whispers in a hiss. 'Powerful and dark too,' she adds, looking me up and down appreciatively. 'You should join me, my dear; I will need someone to rule over the humans for me. I can't possibly be bothered with their measly problems.'

'Sorry, you are mistaken me for someone else. I am not interested in ruling a thing; there is your kindred spirit,' I jab, while pointing to Voldemort.

'Ah well, yes, I suppose he is,' Morgana says sighing. 'Unfortunately, he won't be around much longer.'

'Is that so?' Voldemort hisses quietly.

'Sorry, my dear, I duly regret it. It's kind of a waste, but I need your powers to raise the darkness,' Morgana replies loosely. 'And there is only one way for me to obtain them.'

Voldemort smirks. 'That goes both ways then. Thanks for the info.'

I dive out of the way when I see him move. A dash of green flies past me and impacts on Le Fay. It turns utterly silent when she simply brushes her cloak with her hand to straighten it out again. 'The Killing Curse,' she whispers, 'such a crude, yet effective curse if your opponent isn't the one who invented it and knows how to counter it.'

'What counter are you talking about?' Voldemort asks, while narrowing his eyes at Le Fay. It's pretty obvious he is looking for an opening in her defensive capabilities.

'Nothing you would understand, I made sure of that,' she sneers. 'Isn't that right, Miss Granger?'

My head snaps up, while I am scrambling to my feet from my excellent ground diving performance. But Voldemort's mocking reply beats me to it. 'Oh, is it love again?'

Le Fay grins at him smugly before looking at me. 'Care to explain it to him, Miss Granger.'

I shake my head slowly.

'What? Aren't you one of those delusional women out there who think they can change a man?'

'I am not interested in changing him,' I respond coldly and move between the two.

'Ah…, see; she gets it,' Morgana says to Voldemort, while pointing at me. 'However, love will not beat me this time around.' A black dash flies from Le Fay's hand in the air straight through the dome of fire.

'What's that?' I ask concerned.

'Just a little something that will take care of a small tea cup. Horcruxes, such a feeble and easily broken method of obtaining immortality; not to mention quite insane too,' she says snorting, 'destroying that which lies at the origin of what you strive at.'

My eyes widen and I swirl around. 'You made another one?' I ask disbelievingly. 'Who did you kill this time?'

'Oh who cares,' Le Fay laughs, 'whoever it was is dead and the Horcrux is gone now too.'

'Hermione!' Voldemort shouts warningly.

But a similar jet of black has already struck me in my back, before I can move a muscle. I crash to the ground as an overwhelming pain stabs through my chest and I crawl into a foetal position, while clenching my eyes together. I feel how something or rather someone is being ripped out of me violently, and the pain almost makes me lose consciousness. But I hang onto every bit of willpower I can find to not pass out. I can't afford to pass out. I need to stop her. I need to.

'Thank you so much for making sure the little girl could not stop me with her pitiful love for you. You have personally insured my victory by tainting her with your presence. I'll think I'll use that rather crude curse now,' Le Fay taunts. 'Avada Kedavra!'

'No!' I cry out in despair when I see green light on the inside of my eyelids and hear a thud in the distance.

Laughter sounds through the air as I feel a surge of Voldemort's magic fly to Le Fay. 'Finally! All mine!' she yells triumphantly.

And I am afraid to open my eyes, so I keep them clenched together, trying desperate to ignore the reality, the fact that he may no longer be there. That I will never, ever feel the safety of his arms around me again. But he can't be dead, he can't be. He is immortal, he has to be. He can't leave me, he just can't. I shake my head and open my eyes. I wish I hadn't, because now I can't ignore it anymore, for a few feet away lies his motionless body. Oh Merlin.

'NO!'

The unearthly scream leaves my lips as I crawl to him with my hand still pressed to my aching chest. I shake him, but his eyes are blank - vacant of life and the ever so annoying mischievous sparkle that used to run through them when he was taunting me, challenging me. It's weird to see his white almost translucent features appear almost at peace. I stroke his face gently. Snakelike, so people will fear him. I smile sadly at remembering his strange reasoning. A brilliant wizard, who was as delusional as you could possibly get. He wanted to be feared, while his own angst was probably the greatest of them all. So, he needed to fool the world with a frightening appearance.

Well, now he has succeeded. I don't think his face has ever been scarier to me as it is now with that stupid, serene expression. It's just not him. It's not his face when it's devoid of that irritating smug smirk that I love so much. Why don't you bloody well smirk at me again! And I pound at his chest with my fists; furious about the lack of response. His lifeless body shakes from the blows I am administering but nothing happens; nothing! I slam my hand in front of my mouth and double over, crying relentlessly, while clinging to him. He's gone. Oh Godric, he has really left me. My head is leaning on his cold, unmoving chest as I weep for my loss.

'No, no, no,' I mutter, angry at myself.

I can't give up now. I have to see that obnoxious smirk again. I have to find a way; there has to be a method. All I have to do is: think. There may be a part left of him. And despite the pain in my chest that tells me nothing is there anymore, I desperately try to make contact with the part that was inside of me, the Horcrux the idiot turned me into. Come back to me, you moron. I'll do whatever you want, you win. I surrender. Just come back to me…

But the Horcrux' voice is gone too. I am too late. I failed. I failed him again, just like I did in my nightmare. I failed everyone; Ron, Harry, Ginny, Fred, George and all the other Weasleys, Neville, Luna, all my friends…, and now I also failed him.

No, I can't think that. I grab a hold of his dead body again and cling to it, pressing my head to his chest like I did in the Ministry of Magic. Breathe damn it, breathe. I focus on his heart like I did before. Beat; come on, just beat for crying out loud. But nothing happens, it is truly over. He is gone, dead for good.

Now, where is that murdering bitch?

I tilt my head sideways and through my tears I see her with her arms raised up in the air. In ancient Elfish she commands the dark magical power of the Underworld to rise. A breeze brushes my hair and the earth begins to shake and stir. It's when Everon explodes; rock, trees, plants and no doubt animals fly through the air in thousand pieces. I bury myself on top of Voldemort's body to shield it from the upcoming impact, but the debris doesn't reach beyond the enchanted walls of the Elfin Kingdom. When I look up again, Everon is gone and a large crater with a dark opening remains behind the now melted gates. Maglor looks at it with a sad expression.

'Yes,' Le Fay hisses satisfied and she swirls to her kind. 'I've won you fools. And you lot will be the first to feel my new and enhanced powers as I claim them.'

I look backward at the House-elves, whose eyes are throwing daggers at Le Fay. However, that merely amuses her thoroughly. 'Isn't cursing them into servitude as House-elves enough?' I think sadly, while hearing Le Fay taunt them. 'Wait a second…'

My head snaps back at Maglor. How come he exists? My eyes dart between him, Le Fay and the House-elves confused. If Everon elves are an illusion, why is he here? His body is similar to Le Fay's. He has Elfin eyes and ears, but he is tall and of normal built as she is. But he is nothing like the House-elves, who are all tiny creatures, and if she cursed all the elves into that lifestyle...

I narrow my eyes at Maglor Silimaurë. His arms are still folded over each other and he has that same haughty expression he had when he visited Hogwarts. There is something oddly familiar about him. It's in the way he holds himself and … moves. Oh my god. No, it can't be. My jaw drops and I just stare at Maglor, while flashes of old conversations race through my mind.

Yoda asked Maglor to make it after you arrived at the monastery. … It enhances the magical connection. …immortality to its wearer... …the Stone required Elfin magic to work correctly… Yoda stated only an elf could make the properties to enhance the magical connection that exists between Tom and you. …

As if he feels my attention, Maglor turns his head and captures my gaze. A small smile forms on his face and the expression is oh so familiar. I smile back, while my eyes fall on the counter-stone of the Amulet that is dangling by its cord in Maglor's hand.

'Only an elf could make it … the magical connection that exists between Tom and you.' It sounds through my head, while in the distance I hear Morgan Le Fay jeer at the others about her victory. But she is wrong, she lost.

'Tom Riddle?' I whisper softly.

And I feel the Amulet's heat against my body as a flash of triumph flies through Maglor's eyes and his features shift into Tom Marvolo Riddle's simultaneously with Le Fay's furious shriek. 'NOOOO!' She swirls around and aims at me. 'Avada Kedavra!' she casts.

A bright light flies from both the Amulet of Aine and its counter part in Maglor… uh… Tom's hand. They converge and surround us both, while a beam of white light diverges and charges toward Morgan Le Fay. And as its green counterpart slams into my chest without effect, the brightness of the white jet of light makes Le Fay scream in agony. She covers her head with her arms. A pang sounds; loose, black feathers fly through the air; and a raven lifts of the ground hurriedly, being chased down by not only pots, pans and other kitchen wear but also some very powerful and nasty curses cast by her fellow elves.

'Get that bitch!' shouts Kreacher. 'Don't let her escape again!'

A herd of House-elves flies in pursuit after the raven through the dome of fire and I laugh at the comical visual. I truly hope they get her. A hand falls on my arm and I look up into two amused, dark eyes. 'How did you know?'

'Well, you have very distinct mannerism,' I joke.

He arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. 'Oh, do I?' he grins.

For what seems like an eternity we stare at each other, surrounded by the light of the Amulet. He cups my face gently. 'My little one, I knew you could do it,' he whispers, stroking my face.

'You are not here to stay, are you?' I ask quietly.

He shakes his head. 'Our lives are connected,' Tom says, looking down at Voldemort's lifeless body. 'The Amulet merely grants me a temporary extension.'

'For how long?'

'Until the light fails and darkness comes,' Tom says gravely and he looks back at the crater.

'Darkness is everywhere and in everyone, but only those who know its true nature can contain it. To be or not to be, it is your choice.'

Yoda's words ring through my mind, because I now fully understand what he was preparing me for. And I swallow fearfully, while glancing at the dark opening that is leaking black vapour. I have so many questions to ask. I better hurry, while Tom is still here.

'What precisely are you?'

'I am a side-effect of a potion. The one thing Morgana failed to anticipate in advance when she created Amortentia.'

'You are the part he missed,' I conclude, looking at Voldemort.

'It had to go somewhere,' Tom replies, shrugging apologetically.

'So, that's why Yoda asked you to make this stone. You could enhance the magical connection between Voldemort and me, because you are a part of him.'

'Yes, and Yoda knew you needed something against Le Fay's Killer Curses,' Tom replies, picking the Amulet in his hand and allowing the cord to run through his fingers. His skin brushes my neck, and I close my eyes. Merlin, I am going to miss him.

'You can do this, Hermione.'

I send him a rather weak, unconvinced smile. 'Why did Le Fay let you create the stone?'

Tom laughs. 'I may have been somewhat trapped in that Elfin body, but her control over me had significant boundaries due to my inert nature. You always were the key to set me free.'

'Sorry I didn't see it sooner.'

'How could you have known?'

'I could have paid more attention.'

'You had other things on your mind, Hermione; but you caught it on time. And only your love for me, for him, was the one thing that could set me free for real. Identifying me without it wouldn't have done the trick; you would have probably tried to kill me had you figured out back then who I was.'

'I might have,' I say nodding contemplatively.

'Oh, I am sure,' Tom smirks. 'It was always meant to go this way. Voldemort and I wouldn't have been able to both be free and alive simultaneously. A great unbalance in the Force would have been created had that happened.'

'If you couldn't live together, why do you have to die together?' I say with a hint of resentment to the unfairness of the situation. 'Why can't you live on?'

'I have never truly lived and I will never truly be alive. He was a person; he was me. I am merely…'

'… a side-effect,' I finish, biting my lip.

'Yes,' Tom says calmly. 'You always were supposed to be the one to make the choice between dark and light. Your love was the key to defeating Le Fay and her powers. Victory is yours.'

'Oh yippee,' I sarcastically state. 'Do you think I can take a rain check on my winnings?' and I point to the black vapour at the opening of the crater that is slowly becoming denser.

His warm laugh fills the air. 'I sincerely doubt you can outrun it,' he teases.

'Eh,' I huff. 'I happen to be very fast if need be.'

His hand falls on my arm and he squeezes it softly. 'You can do this, Hermione. I know you can.'

The ground starts trembling again and my eyes widen as a dark plume shoots from the centre of the crater. A long stream of recently learned Elfish swearwords leaves my lips, and I glance sideways at Tom, who is slowly fading as our light diminishes. Oh, I am not so sure I can do this. Not alone. Not without him. I look at him pleading for help.

'You'll find a way to succeed, Hermione; you're strong. You can control the darkness,' he says certainly, and he glances at the onward thundering dark plume that charges toward me. 'Remember Hermione, you are in charge of it,' I hear his echo say.

I brace myself for the inevitable impact and the full force of the darkness of the Underworld rams into me a millisecond later. I double over and I see the counter-stone crash to the ground lifelessly as our light fails and Tom is no more either. Not a single piece of evidence of his existence remains beside the memory in my mind and the counter-stone, which I summon and place into my pocket. Slowly, my sadness over Lord Voldemort's death fades as the new-found dark power makes its way through my central nervous system. And I rise to my feet, feeling invigorated and more in control than ever before. It's thrilling, intoxicating and a wonderful sensation to behold all this magical force inside of you. I wave my hand through the air to test it and the fiery dome disappears in a flash.

'Hermione?'

It's Jareth. I look around and my dark eyes meet his. It's when I notice he is no longer alone. Almost every Knight is standing at the clearing, surrounding me. I let out a humourless laugh. Now, they are here. I should have known.

'Hermione?' Jareth insists.

'I am fine,' I respond coldly. 'I am in control of it.'

'Good,' he replies, checking me up and down suspiciously.

'I've decided not to be,' I say with a small smile.

'I am glad to hear that,' Jareth responds calmly.

I turn when I hear the snapping sound of branches breaking and a gasp. It's Sloan. He has awoken from Jareth's Stunner, and his jaw has dropped several inches as he stares at the dead body of Lord Voldemort. In a daze, the Unspeakable walks toward us. 'He is dead,' Sloan finally whispers and he looks at me for some kind of reassurance and acknowledgement to that statement.

'Yes,' I say.

Sloan lets out a relieved sigh. 'Thank Rowena, finally.' He turns to me for obvious orders. 'What do you want done?'

'Hold it right there,' I interrupt chilly. 'I am not nor ever will be a politician. Jareth?'

'Yes?'

'Can the Knights make sure the transition back gets done? I cannot…' I halt, because a part of me wants to take charge now. But I know I should not get too near to a base of power. I will fall into this darkness if I do.

'We will assist where needed,' Jareth finishes understandingly, and he nods his head towards the others who immediately Apparate away.

'The Knights of Silence will assist you in reforming the Ministry of Magic,' I tell Sloan. 'I will not.'

'But you are a hero,' Sloan interrupts. 'People will want to …'

'I don't care about other people's wishes. Right now all I want to do is see my family. Where are they?'

'At the Dark Lord's quarters in Hogwarts,' Sloan answers.

'Then, there is where I will go first,' I say, staring into thin air, because it is painful to think about returning there without him. I turn around and look at the dead body of the man I loved. I glance up at Jareth. 'Can you take care of his body also? I do not wish it to be on display for any means anywhere.'

Jareth nods knowingly.

'But people will need…,' Sloan starts.

'I don't give a rat's ass to what people think they need to see to believe he is dead. If you want to show them a body, conjure something else into it,' I hiss furiously. 'They are not getting Him. Is that understood, Sloan, or do I need to clarify matters to you?' And I can feel my eyes flashing as I speak.

'Why don't you go see your parents and sister first, Hermione,' Jareth suggests, shushing the situation. 'I will make sure Tom's body will not get violated.'

I look at him and calm down. I know I can trust him to keep his word. 'Thank you,' I merely say, and I Apparate back to Hogwarts.

'Hermione!' I hear my mother's voice shout and I feel her arms wrap around me. 'You're all right. You are all right,' she whispers, crushing me to death.

'Yes, everything is fine now,' I respond as I hug both my parents. 'I am taking you home. The war is all over.'

My mother grabs my head and looks at me. 'He is gone?'

'Yes,' I respond with pain in my heart, and I get another bone crushing hug from the both of them.

'Are you really my sister?' Kate inquires cheerfully, while patting the hairy dog who sits beside her on the ground.

'Yes,' I reply, smiling at her over my mother's shoulder. 'I am Hermione.'

'Cool,' Kate says. 'My name is Kate and I have a dog.'

'So I see. I'll have to build you a doghouse then.'

'It can sleep with me,' Kate suggests.

'Now dear, we will talk about that when we get home,' Rose responds sternly.

'Our old house is still intact?' Hugo asks.

I nod. 'It will need some redecorating though,' I smile, while flashing my wand around to transport us all back to my parents' house.
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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory