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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 65340 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 34
- 35
Chapter 35. Clarity to a Point

Several Apparition spins later, they arrived at the familiar dark dank alley outside of the entrance to the building the Keepers used in London. The buildings on each side of the constantly wet and thus slippery cobblestone path leaned so far towards each other that they touched at the rooftops. It was cold, and the air always felt moist, like a faint drizzle too soft to notice until you’d got soaked by it. This alleyway was invisible to almost all, even wizarding folks. The Fidelius Charm placed upon this outside area served as an additional security measure so Keepers could arrive without being noticed. Apparition directly inside the building was prohibited and would lead to detrimental deathly consequences, even for ward experts like Gellert Grindelwald.

The many spins had Hermione lean her forehead against Voldemort, taking deep even breaths in order to abate the nausea and dizziness. He didn’t move, just waited until she looked up with a deep breath.

‘I need to learn Apparition by myself,’ she said, feeling a strong sense of deja vu as the words exited her mouth. It wasn’t as bad as before but she still felt slightly queasy—these sidealongs were horrific. Hermione almost preferred flying. Almost. At least that didn’t make her feel like puking her guts out. Surely, Apparition would be better if you were the one steering?

‘It’s on the list,’ he said, a humorous lilt in his voice.

‘Your list of what, how to humiliate me? Was making me look like your whore to everyone on it?’

Upon seeing his eyes flash, she immediately stepped back in fear, right into the damp wall. He’d moved forward before she could react and now his body had hers pressed quite firmly against it. One hand was around her throat; the other stroked an errant curl from the side of her face with his wand. Her hand dug into her pocket, her fingers curling around her own wand. Her darkness cheered her on, demanding retribution.

Yet her indecisiveness held her off long enough to recall what had happened the last time she’d tried to curse him. She was pretty sure he hadn’t removed that effect off her wand, making her basically defenseless against him.

‘A shame,’ he said, tilting his head. ‘I’d hoped to feel your delicious body squirm in pain against me upon the rebound of whatever your recklessly valiant attack would have been. Are you sure the Sorting Hat wasn’t malfunctioning when it put you in Gryffindor?’

‘Why did you say that?’

‘Say what?’

Hermione growled. He knew perfectly well what she meant. There was a deviousness in his blank expression that told her everything she needed to know.

‘You did that deliberately. Why?’

His slit-for-pupils eyes blinked several times. He seemingly paused, debating internally, then he gazed intensely at her, making her feel naked, exposed, seen.

She wasn't certain she wanted to be truly wholly seen.

‘Why does it embarrass you?’

Hermione sputtered. Surely that was obvious.

‘They all service me, my pet.’

‘That’s not the same thing,’ she hissed.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No. People already assume women fuck their way up the ranks, and …’ she stopped, horrified, looking at his utterly delighted expression. ‘I’m not one of your followers!’

Smugly, he grinned, his wand still playing with her curls; they tickled her face.

‘I am not,’ she repeated, gritting her teeth.

By Merlin, that wizard had a way to get on her nerves.

‘After I not only allowed you to go unpunished for killing several of my followers, including some of my most loyal ones, but also aided you in your reaction afterwards, then made sure you were protected—’

‘—so the other Keepers won’t kill you,’ she snapped.

‘After I showed everyone your importance to me,’ he continued calmly, ignoring her outburst, ‘they needed to understand why.’

‘It didn’t have to be that.’

‘Was it a lie then, my pet?’

Now her face truly burned.

‘Do you not spread your legs for your Master?’

‘It’s none of their business.’

‘It is not.’

Did he just agree with her? Her eyebrows rose to the heavens above. He leaned in, his breath brushing her earlobe, his powerful magic whirling around her.

‘But I like showing you off, my little halfblood.’

Hermione huffed. ‘Don’t get me started on that.’

His high-pitched laugh vibrated through her.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll always be my dirty little Mudblood to me. It’ll be our secret.’

‘Now you can keep a secret.’

‘I keep many more secrets, my filthy Mudblood, and you want to learn all of them, don’t you?’

She cursed about the traitorous way her body shivered against him when he breathed those vile words into her ear.

‘And you performed so admirably today. Did you sense the fear in them when I returned your wand to you? Saw how fast my infamous Death Eaters moved out of the path of your wand? It’s intoxicating, isn’t it, holding that much power in the palm of your hand? And then they saw your Cruciatus.’ Voldemort’s pleased laugh rolled around her. ‘And you showed them once more why I chose you. You were magnificent. Did you not relish the feel of the Cruciatus? Did you not want it to continue on and on and on?’

He grew hard against her and inhaled deeply at the memory, his bald head dropping back before the moment passed and he looked straight at her, taking in how her pupils were blown by his intoxicating speech.

‘My little dark witch, you showed them all today that you’re a force to be reckoned with—a force to fear, a force that can crush them all like the little bugs that they are—and as their benevolent Lord and Master, I had to reassure them. They have to know your powers, you, are held under control.’

His tongue licked the side of her neck before his teeth caught her earlobe and nibbled on it, stirring unwanted feelings inside of her. She couldn’t fall now. Her head needed to be clear, not intoxicated by his far too overwhelming presence.

‘Your submission to me reaffirms their beliefs, makes them think they’re safe and special to be a part of a movement capable of ensnaring such a powerful witch.’

‘And you need them to think they’re safe because you couldn’t care less if they are,’ she responded sharply.

‘Are you worried I feel the same way about you, my Hermione?’

‘Stop that.’

‘Stop what?’

‘Trying to manipulate and lie to me. I know I’m not a Legilimens but that is, is …’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not stupid, so don’t treat me like I’m one. You feel the same way about me. You feel like that about everyone but yourself. You’d replace me in a heartbeat if I had no more use for you.’

‘Isn't that a marvellous incentive to stay useful to me, to excel and become everything you could possibly dream of under my tutelage? I take extremely good care of my most precious belongings, Hermione, extremely good care.’

The insinuation burned through her veins like wildfire. It had her squirming in his hold, making her wet. She wanted nothing more than for it to be true, but how could she trust his words? She didn’t know what his endgame was for her. She did know what his endgame was for Harry. Harry was her bestest friend. She would not, could not, ever betray him. How did Voldemort always manage to get under her skin like that?

‘You could become my most prized possession, little one.’

She swallowed, her emotions in uproar once again like all he needed to do was breathe in her direction and she’d fall straight into his waiting arms.

‘If you feel that way, why take away my protection?’ she asked, her voice barely audible.

She was shaking uncontrollably now and wished she knew why. Her hand pulled the necklace out of her pocket and held it up. His pupils darted between the dark stone and her face.

‘That wasn’t me, pet,’ he said, his fingers folding over hers and lifting up her hand so the dark stone was between their faces. ‘You fulfilled your path. You made a choice and acted upon that choice. Your magic embraced the darkness and in doing so rendered this null and void. You no longer need it for protection. You no longer need it to learn. It’s merely a stone, invisibly bearing my mark now. It’s only useful for summons and to pass through my wards.’

He stroked her face with the cold pendant before putting it and her hand back into her pocket.

‘Keep it for that.’

‘B-bu-but…’

She couldn’t remember. Had she really embraced the Dark Arts? She’d no problem casting the Cruciatus Curse and she hadn’t felt her darkness stirring to get out while she was performing it either. It had been content where it was; it had glowed, filling her with warmth and power. It had felt good, so good. But that was all wrong, wasn’t it? Was she all wrong? She was supposed to be a good person. A Gryffindor. Professor Dumbledore had picked her.

Oh Godric, he’d be so disappointed in her. There was no way she could face him now. She’d killed. She’d murdered people, and it didn’t bother her one iota that she had killed his Death Eaters. Maybe that was just because she couldn’t remember?

But she knew that thought was a copout. She didn’t care that they were dead. They deserved it.

‘Sure, after your glorious performance, your brain had trouble accepting your perception of self with this new reality, but the choice was yours. It’s always been yours, and you chose so well. You’ll be a glorious dark witch when I’m done with you.’

He deserved it. Voldemort deserved to die most of all. He was the cause. He should die. She should kill him if she got the chance. If she were to become a dark witch, she might as well do some good with it. Help the world be rid of him.

‘I killed someone,’ she said barely above a whisper.

Why did the thought of his death, his permanent absence, squeeze her throat so much that she had trouble speaking?

‘Which wouldn’t have done it, but then you went further. You delved into the Dark Arts and stayed beautifully there when you enacted your vengeance, little one. You slaughtered them all. Anyone foolish enough to attack you.’

‘I need to know.’

Slowly, he nodded. ‘Once you’re ready, it will—’

‘No, I need to remember now. I can’t—I won’t—’ she halted, unable to find the words she was seeking until finally she said in a small voice, ‘Everyone else knows.’

She couldn’t remain in the dark. Remaining in the dark about things vital to yourself and your magic was detrimental in a war. He had to realise that. Not that she thought he cared, but he couldn’t afford allowing her to maintain massive vulnerabilities like these.

‘And you’re concerned they’ll look at you differently.’

‘No, I already know they do.’ She’d seen it already in Dolohov’s but also Crouch’s eyes, an interest she’d not seen there before. ‘I need to know for myself.’

He shook his head.

‘I need to,’ she said, her voice much more adamant and steady.

‘You think you do,’ he said, shushing her when she sputtered. ‘If you were truly ready, your memories would’ve resurfaced right now.’

‘You can’t leave me in the dark.’

‘You know what you did. I told you what you did. When you’re ready to feel what goes with that, it will occur.’

‘What if I’m never ready?’

‘If I force this now, you’ll come with me. No more going back to the Weasleys.’

‘This is my mind. You can’t just decide—’

‘I won’t have you rendered catatonic and useless because of your hubris.’

‘It’s not hubris.’

‘You’re still troubled by the choice you made; that much is obvious to Lord Voldemort. You are not ready to accept that you embraced the dark arts and enjoyed doing so. Thus it would be hubris to think you could witness all your memories again and not require assistance no one at the Weasleys would be able to give. People have lost their sanity over lesser actions, pet. I—’

A cough interrupted them. Hermione stilled, suddenly realising how utterly intimate they seemed with Voldemort having her pressed up against the wall. Her eyes widening, she focused on his snakelike face as if not acknowledging said cough would make the person disappear and not see her. She became redder than the ripest tomato as he turned his head.

Please don’t be Professor Dumbledore. Please don’t be Professor Dumbledore.

‘Riddle,’ a female voice said coolly.

Thank Merlin.

‘Nathaira,’ he replied equally coldly. ‘You brought what I asked for?’

Curious, Hermione looked sideways, watching the witch pull a small, black velvet sachet from her robe, opening it slightly so Voldemort could look inside. Hermione wished she could see what it was, but from her vantage point, there was no looking into that small sachet. Voldemort held out his hand.

‘Your adjustments to the curse?’ Nathaira said, her eyes narrowing.

Voldemort twisted his wrist. A scroll appeared between his abnormally long, spidery fingers. Nathaira dropped the sachet in his palm while pulling the scroll away at the same time. She unrolled it, her eyes quickly scanning over the contents. A vile smile erupted on her face.

‘Let’s do this again some day soon,’ Voldemort said, amused.

‘Let’s not,’ Nathaira replied, pocketing the scroll before turning on her heels and rushing inside.

He snorted, making a move to pocket the sachet inside his robes.

‘What’s that?’ Hermione interrupted, intrigued. Despite knowing he’d likely leave her in the dark, she just couldn’t stop herself from asking.

To her surprise, he opened the sachet and pulled out a delicate golden chain with a tiny gold charm dangling from it. As he dropped the charm that looked like two gold spheres on top of each other into her waiting hand, she brought it closer to her face. What she’d first thought were spheres turned out to be many small snakes that ate their own tail. Rubies as tiny as little pinpricks made up their eyes and the detail on those sculpted gold snakes was unbelievable. She could see each individual scale shining despite the darkness of the alley. There was an undeniable glow coming from the charm. A shiver ran down her spine when Voldemort hissed at it, his Parseltongue words flowing around her. There was a soft click and the snakes began sliding around, stacking on top of each other until one figure eight remained.

Infinity.

In the centre of each circle of the infinity sign floated a miniscule hourglass, seemingly unattached to anything. These were without a doubt the tinies hourglasses she’d ever seen. Inside of it, the sand glittered brightly. Temporal sand, she knew.

‘A Time-Turner,’ she whispered in awe, because it was nothing like the one she’d worn. The ministry one had been rather bulky and rough in comparison. This was a work of art.

‘Isis’s Time-Turner,’ Voldemort elaborated, looking at her sharply.

Hermione gasped. That turner was the stuff of legends. Its capabilities were deemed far above ordinary Time-Turners, going back as far as a whole month. No one had ever been able to replicate it.

‘That must be worth a fortune,’ she whispered in awe, turning the small pendant around in her fingers. ‘Why did she give it away?’

‘She thinks it’s only a loan, and she’s desperate. Her apprentice will get her killed had I not kindly given her the knowledge on how to modify the Nightmare Curse. I hadn’t planned to assist her, but unfortunately, certain circumstances—’ Here, Voldemort looked pointedly at her. ‘—required me to obtain a Time-Turner, and since you lot destroyed them all, I couldn’t get one in this country. They wouldn’t have gone back far enough anyway. This one will.’

He put Isis’s Time-Turner back into the sachet and pocketed it. Frowning, she stared at him. Certain circumstances that involved her? What? Why?

‘Let’s go inside,’ he ordered, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her indoors.

It was as dark, dim and derelict as she remembered. The narrow corridor had peeling wallpaper with large brown-and-orange circles on it and was lit with only one light bulb that hung nakedly from the ceiling on just its electrical cord. Whether it was from interference of the powerful magic or typical wizarding lacking knowledge on how to properly use Muggle inventions was unknown to her, but the light constantly flickered, enhancing the haunted house sensations. On the door right in front of her hung a yellow-brown discoloured poster of a clown and two frogs, announcing the arrival of the amazing Grimaldi in ‘Harlequin Padmanada’. A big, fat spider crawled over it.

Hermione stopped, feeling Voldemort’s presence like a scorching heat behind her. The hand on her back slid to her front, pulling her flush against his body, as he reached over her shoulder and knocked three times. His other hand came to rest on her shoulder. She stood stockstill, remembering what Professor Dumbledore had told her about the wards the last time she’d been here, and that was by invitation. Now she wasn’t invited. A red ward hummed into action, slowly going over them, before doing a second turn just over Hermione’s body alone. The ward lingered on his hand against her belly and the one on her shoulder before deactivating. She let out a sigh of relief.

‘Pandemonium,’ Voldemort called out.

The door swayed open to a large open area. Wooden chairs were stacked on top of each other; a table lay on its side; and the ornate, dark-wood armoire against the wall had a door dangling off its hinges. A baby grand piano stood in the far corner; its black wood covered in a thick layer of dust. A white sheet that perhaps had once been used to protect it lay forgotten on the floor. Underneath the two bay windows were wooden curved benches, a circular table positioned in front of them. Slats of cheap rough wood were boarded over the two tall windows, making the chamber equally dark as the hallway, because the chandelier on the ceiling had only one functioning candle and the small bundles of daylight that shone haphazardly through the cracks did nothing more than illuminate the dust particles floating in the air. At the opposite end of the chamber was a wall of rough red bricks. She hadn’t seen those before. It had been covered in mist as always when she was questioned about her assignment. Why would they hide a simple wall from her? The door slammed shut behind them, and Voldemort turned her around in his arms.

‘You’ll have to stay here, is that understood?’

She nodded.

His fingers grasped her chin, stroking her jaw. His Legilimency had her sway on her feet. She considered blocking him but realised she’d nothing to hide. His presence wasn’t unpleasant, more of a warm caress than a slicing attack yet there just the same.

‘No matter what you hear or what occurs, you will not approach the brick wall. If you do, it will swallow you whole and not even all Keepers together will be able to rescue you from it. So, you will stay in this room until I come back to collect you.’

‘I understand,’ she said, ‘I’m not supposed to be here.’

‘You are not, so I strongly suggest you don’t make the house mad at you and stay on this side of the room.’

‘I will,’ she said, wondering how one would exactly make a house mad at them and what would occur if she did.

Abruptly, her mind became a whirl; her skin felt like the harsh summer son attacked it on full blast, prickling, burning, tingling. Her mouth opened and her eyelids flickered. She was ever so tired; perhaps she should lie down?

Foolish, stubborn, little Gryffindor. You will obey me in every possible way.

‘I will obey you in every possible way,’ she replied monotonically.

Her mind didn’t feel like her own. A snake had slithered inside and coiled around her synapses, making her mouth move without her interference. A need so strong rose, a need only he could quelch. She wanted him more than anything, more than life itself. She’d do whatever he ordered.

You will stay on this side of the room.

‘I will stay on this side of the room.’

You will go and sit in that alcove in the corner until I return.

‘I will go and sit in that alcove in the corner until you return.’

Vow on your magic.

‘I vow on my magic, my Lord,’ she droned.

The fingers grasping her jaw tightly tilted her head, his mouth capturing hers, his tongue exploring her at his pleasure. Her magic whirled up to greet him. Her moan vibrated between their bodies when his magic surged around hers, going down her throat, whirling and coiling. She was falling, going down, down, down. His magic pulsed inside her, creating a need so violent, so allconsuming it thrummed not only inside her sex but inside every cell of her body. Her legs gave way; the arm around her back held her flush against his bony body. She could no longer hold herself up. All her muscles relaxed; her head dropped. Her eyelids flickered, seeing a floating singular candlelight far away until there was nothing but darkness and heaviness and him.

His arms lifted her up, and she was on fire, helpless, at his mercy. Her head swayed with every step he took towards the alcove. A Scouring Charm struck the alcove’s u-shaped wood bench before he carefully sat her down in the corner—a Cushioning Charm relieved the harshness of the wood against her body. His fingertips trailed over her forehead, an almost orgasmic experience. She needed to come. Desperately.

Look at me.

Red fiery light greeted her with a dark stripe inside. Such a marvellous black stripe. She wanted to look at it forever. She wanted to drown in it. She’d never seen a prettier stripe.

Repeat your vow to me, Hermione.

‘I will sit in this alcove until you come back for me.’

‘Good girl,’ he said, his mouth brushing her forehead.

The rush of magic arched her back and curled her toes. Gasping for air, she pushed herself up, watching his smug expression as she continued to quiver.

‘Wha-what?’

‘You were going to be foolish, Hermione. I had to make sure you can’t harm yourself on my watch.’

She pressed her eyelids together, trying to focus, trying very - very hard to ignore that incessant thrum, pounding, pounding, pounding. She wanted to stand up but realised her legs wouldn’t listen to the commands of her brain.

‘Uh, uh, uh, no leaving the alcove, naughty girl,’ Voldemort said, waddling his finger at her.

‘What did you do to me?’ she gasped; another charge ran rampant. ‘God.’

‘A lesson for being a really bad liar to your Lord and Master.’

‘I—I …’ Her hand touched her forehead, wiping away the perspiration on her brow.

‘What?’ he mocked, tilting his head.

‘Please.’

‘Oh, I do love how prettily you beg for mercy, little one.’

He leaned forward, his hands coming to rest beside each of her shoulders on the back of the bench. His breath brushed her ear. His scent hit her nose. He was everywhere. He was her world. She needed him.

‘Please, Master,’ she whispered, ‘please, please, please.’

She jolted when he licked her neck.

‘Please,’ she begged when his fingers deftly unzipped her trousers and slipped into her soaked knickers.

‘So wet for me,’ he said, circling her clit. ‘So ready to be taken by your Master, but you’ll just have to wait.’

‘Please!’ she cried out when he moved away. ‘Don’t leave me like this, please.’

‘Patience is a virtue your hungry Mudblood self seems to be disgustingly lacking. Show me you can control yourself, and when I get back, I will fuck your filthy Mudblood cunt as hard as you desire, Hermione.’

Aghast, all she could do was watch him whirl away in a cloud of darkness. A stone archway formed inside the brick wall as he approached. A plaque with his name morphed into existence above it. Parseltongue hisses caused the building to vibrate, making her groan desperately, her hand down her trousers searching for a relief that would not come. A vertical sea of dark-blue formed inside the archway, its waves sloshing against the stone. Voldemort stepped inside the waves. For a moment she thought nothing happened, but then he was gone and the wall was just that, a wall. Her desperate cry filled the air, and she grabbed a hold of her hair with both hands, pulling hard on the strands, thinking pain might make it go away.

It did not.

Merlin, how was she going to do this?

She focused on her breathing.

Unhelpful.

She had to regain control over her mind.

So, she looked at the bricks on that blasted wall she wasn’t supposed to approach. Her finger in the air, she began counting them. She needed to take her mind off her rather inconvenient situation. Surely her compartmentalising brain would be able to push her mind away from this incessant desire.

‘One, two, three …’ she counted on and on, ‘thirty-one, thirty-two.’

It was working. She could focus. Her need diminished to a background thrum.

‘Thirty-three, thirty-four.’

‘One-thousand-sixty-seven,’ a jolly voice said.

Hermione shifted her attention to the door where Gellert Grindelwald leaned against the rim, looking mighty dashing in dark-blue robes that made his blond, curly hair stand out even more.

‘One-thousand-sixty-seven?’

‘The amount of bricks on that wall,’ he clarified, shrugging.

‘How do you know that?’

‘I’ve been where you are; though,’ he tilted his head and a devious curl erupted on his lips, ‘I was just bored out of my mind, not put under a Compliance Curse.’

‘Must be nice not having an asshole guide,’ she muttered.

Gellert tossed his head back and laughed. ‘A not asshole guide, interesting concept. Don’t think I’ve met one yet.’

‘Telling on yourself now?’

‘Always.’ He shrugged, walking towards her. ‘Need some help getting rid of that curse?’

‘Are you offering to help me?’ she asked, bemused. ‘Isn’t that against the rules?’

‘I’ve never been big on rules.’

Yeah, she reckoned.

Grindelwald pulled out a wand—a sleek ebony wand that looked mighty familiar.

‘How did you get Professor Snape’s wand?’

‘Stole it.’

They allowed him to nick a wand and keep it? No wonder he tore down Nurmengard. Merlin, these Keepers were irresponsible.

‘Now do you want that curse lifted or do you prefer to keep sitting here like a bitch in heat?’

Her face burned. Sweat trickled down her spine. Damn, he had noticed?

‘Yes, obviously I’ve noticed.’

Shit. Her Occlumency! Having no other idea, she quickly started counting numbers and avoided eye contact.

‘So off or on?’ Gellert asked, wiggling his wand in front of her face.

Voldemort would be pissed. Then again, she really didn’t care much. If more Keepers were to pass by her and notice her condition, that might be amusing to him but most certainly not to her.

‘Off, please.’

Without any delay, Gellert’s wand flashed. Goosebumps erupted as the sensation of thousands of invisible ants marched on her skin, connected by a thin thread to his wand. It was bloody embarrassing how she arched into the magic, feeling the push and pull of him all around her. The ‘ants’ stopped in sync with a stomp that echoed through her. Gellert yanked his arm back. Her eyesight went white as she screamed into the abrupt pull that seemed to slice through the pressure points of the curse Voldemort had cast. The pain was gone as fast as it had arrived. Her body was her own again. Like a veil had been lifted from her mind, her thoughts were no longer sluggish and slow; a song immediately sprang to mind.

Never gonna give you up.

That’s why she’d forgotten to properly occlude. Blasted Voldemort and his curses. First her memories, then her mind and body. Was he ever going to stop?

Never gonna let you down.

She moved her arms and made a face at how easy and normal it felt. That curse had had a much bigger impact than she’d previously realised.

Never gonna run around and desert you.

‘Well, I see you’re back to normal, not that that's an improvement,’ Gellert said casually. ‘I’d better get going before they’re all having a fit about my absence.’

He turned away.

‘Wait!’

Merlin, she really was going insane these days, but she had to know.

Gellert’s eyebrows rose and his blue eyes twinkled merrily in her direction. ‘Anything else, dear?’

‘What is it about me that you disapprove of so much?’

The enjoyment immediately disappeared from his handsome face, and she knew she’d been right, despite not being a Legilimens. He didn’t want her here. So why had he helped her?

‘Is it just blood supremacy nonsense or do you have an actual valid reason?’

‘Why do you require the approval of others?’

Seriously? This wasn’t some vanity project of hers. She didn’t really know how they decided who went through and who didn’t, but she knew the Keepers had some kind of vote over it. Her continued apprenticeship depended upon these assholes’ approval.

‘Why do you lot always answer a question with another question?’

‘You really want to know?’

‘I am asking.’

His eyes darted over her as if he were scanning.

‘You may not like what I have to say.’

‘I still want to know.’

‘Very well. You’re a loose canon with zero control and not enough sense of self.’

Hermione swallowed at the suckerpunch to her gut. Well, she supposed she had yanked his chain for answers.

‘Casting Unforgivables leaves traces on your magical aura, did you know that?’

‘I’ve read about it,’ she whispered. Would every Keeper be able to tell so easily?

‘You read about it. Reading about it isn’t experiencing. It’s even worse because you’re not experiencing, you’re blocking. All that damage and for what?’

‘I didn’t—’

‘No, don’t go there. Your casting, your responsibility, not your guide’s. No matter how much I despise him, he wouldn’t have gone there unless absolutely necessary. This is exactly why you are dangerous. You’re an incredibly powerful witch who is balancing on a tightrope of sanity, and you stick your head in the sand and avoid it.’

‘I’m not avoiding it. He took my memories from me.’

‘So why aren’t they back then? Don’t look at me like that. I recognise the curse around your brain. I invented it. I know what it does. If you were not blissfully avoiding the darkness or light inside but embraced it properly, took accountability for your actions, you wouldn’t be such a damn threat.’

‘You know that’s rich, coming from you of all people,’ she hissed, shifting in her seat.

‘I’ve seen darkness like yours before, Miss Granger,’ Gellert said, placing his hand on the table and leaning forward, ‘darkness so pervasive it will swallow the world, including the person wielding it.’

A chill descended upon her as he looked down at her. There was a seriousness in his eyes that she’d not seen before. Was he talking about himself or someone else? Did watching her seem like a mirror to him?

Gellert shook his head, muttering, ‘I can’t let Albus make the same mistake I did. He will never recover.’

‘Pardon?’

‘If it only were darkness, that would be one thing, Granger, but your light magic is equally troublesome. You’re a threat to everyone and everything, and you should be Obliviated before we will all regret teaching you even the simplest of spells.’

He wanted to Obliviate her? If so, she hoped for his sake he’d brought backup because she wouldn’t be going down without a fight.

He stopped talking, taking her in.

‘You feel it now, don’t you? That need inside to hurt, to lash out, to burn everything in its wake. You’ll destroy us all, including yourself. Some people should never be taught how to wield their magic.’

‘And what should be done with them then?’ she asked icily.

The absolute nerve of him to call her a destroyer when his actions had shaken the continent.

‘If it were up to me, you’d be dead. There, now you know. Happy?’

‘Fuck you.’

In a flash, Hermione pulled her wand, digging the tip into his throat. He didn’t move an inch, didn’t even draw his wand in return.

‘Ah, there she is,’ Gellert said, his blue eyes glinting, ‘the true you, the one you hide from yourself and the world. No more pretenses. How utterly delightful. Come on then, curse me. Make it count, Mudblood, because if even a small part of me is left standing, you will regret it.’

‘If I die, he will kill you.’

‘You think I fear Death like that fool?’ Gellert laughed loudly. ‘Come on, girlie, what are you waiting for?’

Merlin, that incessant laughter grated on her nerves. She wanted nothing more than to silence him. The idea sprung to mind at once: Albus Dumbledore.

‘And he will kill everyone who gets in his way to save you.’

Ah, there it was, she'd struck gold.

Grindelwald stopped laughing; his facial expression went stone cold as he swallowed. A slight tremble was barely visible in the tight restraint he held his arms. His eyes bored into hers with an icy fury. She supposed it wasn’t a daily experience for him to be threatened with Lord Voldemort’s wrath as the weapon of choice. She prayed it would work, because she didn’t see any other options that didn’t lead to her cursed into oblivion.

‘It’s mutual then?’ she asked softly. ‘I had heard the rumours from Professor Binns, but I always assumed you’d toyed around with Professor Dumbledore’s feelings.’

Grindelwald’s wand was in her neck. Panicking, Hermione cast. The chamber shook. Everything turned dark.
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The Apprentice