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Prisms of Darkness	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 34497 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: Thanks to my beta, Lildaani!
Chapter 4
Another scream ripped through the air, disturbing the silence, similar to how the rumbling thunder outside interfered with the rhythm of the steadily falling rain.

He was accustomed to screams. Torture was part of his life. Without it, he was like a fish out of water, gasping for oxygen, but never receiving it.

For the first time in his life, however, the shrieks did not bring him any pleasure.

“You filthy little Mudblood!” he heard the shrill voice of his wife shriek, followed by another groan of pain.

No, it did not bring him the elation he usually got from hearing the waning breaths of prisoners. In fact, all he felt was angst.

He was scared.

It was perhaps strange to think of Rodolphus Lestrange being afraid. However, no one could possibly blame him. Everyone in the Wizarding World feared the Dark Lord.

He leaned back into the chair and looked out the window. It was difficult to see the rain through the curtains, but he could still hear it spattering loudly against the glass and on the grounds. The heavy cloud cover that blocked out the sun seemed to be untouched by the winds that whistled through the unseen cracks of the house.

Sometimes, he wondered if the clouds were an omen of what was going to happen. It had not stopped raining since his wife captured the prisoner of their master.

His eyes flickered towards the prison on the second floor. It was as if he could see what his wife currently was doing to the cherished Mudblood, the woman that caused whispers amongst those who were loyal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months.

The only thing he could do was watch from the sidelines while his wife did as her heart desired.

And the uneasy feeling never subsided.

________________________________________

He was surprised when the Dark Lord requested for his presence alone. Usually, when he was called for, his wife would be summoned, too.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, threatening to run down his face. Yet, he did not dare to move before he was allowed to do so. For almost an hour, he had been kneeling in front of, and being scrutinized by, the most feared wizard in the world.

Contrary to popular belief, the Dark Lord did not live in a place filled with cobwebs and bats. Rodolphus had heard the most ridiculous rumors while he was traveling around the world, running errands for his master. People seemed to believe that the Dark Lord must live in a place that looked like a cheap Muggle imitation of a haunted house.

He had never seen the whole house before since the Dark Lord would never allow that. However, he had a general idea of what it looked like. The decorations and furniture of the mansion were simple, yet elegant. It was not nearly as cold as the Lestranges’ house or as extravagant as Malfoy Manor, but it was certainly more welcoming than both of them.

There was one thing that was similar between the three houses, nevertheless. Each of them contained, within them, dungeons to keep prisoners. Rodolphus knew too well what they looked like. Each cellar was like a second bedroom to him, having spent many moments in them.

The only difference between this time and any other time was the fact that he was never the victim.

“Rodolphus.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Another moment of silence followed, and the anxiety within the Death Eater only increased.

Rodolphus wondered how much his master knew, allowing himself to hope for a moment that the Dark Lord had not yet found out about Bellatrix's treachery. Even though both he and his wife had been studying Occlumency, he had never attempted to use it on the Dark Lord. He knew that it would be simply useless.

“How long have you followed me?” the Dark Lord finally asked.

“Ever since I left Hogwarts, my Lord,” he murmured.

“How many of my Death Eaters have betrayed me?”

Rodolphus immediately looked at him. The Dark Lord was sitting on an armchair in front of him, but the lighting in the room was too dim for him to see the expressions on his face.

“My Lord – ”

“Answer my question, Rodolphus.”

Rodolphus quickly analyzed the question in his mind. It was not as easy as it seemed to be. For the nearly twenty years he had been a Death Eater, he had seen only five people betray the Dark Lord. However, he did not know whether he should count his wife’s actions as some sort of betrayal.

It was a choice between loyalty to his wife or to his master.

His eyes landed on the yew wand held by abnormally long fingers and he finally made his decision.

“Six, my Lord.”

Although he still could not see the expression on the Dark Lord’s face, he felt the atmosphere of the room change. At that moment, he realized he had made the right choice. He did not know how his Lord found out about his wife’s treachery, but that was insignificant.

The Dark Lord stood up from the armchair, walked up to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“If she dies, I shall be very displeased.”

“Yes, master.”

________________________________________

He watched as Granger bit into the small piece of bread he had given her. When he first walked into the dark room, she stared at him in wonder and suspicion. He could feel her doubt increase when he performed a Scouring Charm on her and healed some of the nastier wounds. She was almost unwilling to take the food from him, but her hunger finally overcame her.

Rodolphus had to admit that he was surprised when he walked through the door. Although she had been tortured by Bella for well over two months already, the brightness in her eyes never went away. Therefore, he continued to examine her, using the minimal light from the end of his wand, as she devoured the small ration he had brought her.

When the last traces of bread disappeared, she murmured a soft “Thank you”, observing him with curiosity in her eyes.

He lowered his eyes, stood up, and walked out of the room. He cast one last glance at the young lady before he closed the door.

The Dark Lord would never choose a woman who was weak.

________________________________________

The fire was too small to light up the living room completely. If possible, it only made the house look even more depressing. The curtains occasionally swayed, blown by drafts entering through unseen cracks of the windows.

He could hear the sounds of the winds howling and rain pelting at the window. Flashes of lighting momentarily lit up the room from time to time.

His wife was becoming frantic. She paced in front of the fireplace, muttering to herself.

Many people said that she was insane – then again, they said that HE was insane, like his wife – but he knew better. She was very intelligent, just not as cunning as the Dark Lord.

“He knows … doesn’t he … no … can’t … no …”

From the snippets he was hearing, Rodolphus could tell that she was not sure if their master knew of her treachery yet.

He quietly continued to watch her, sitting in the armchair next to the window. A couple of times, he caught her looking over at him, as if she was about to ask him something, but decided against it.

She knew that she was a valuable warrior, that their master would not dispose of her because of Granger. He could still feel her fear, however – fear that the little Mudblood would return to the Dark Lord's side.

Her heavy-lidded eyes fell on the door of the prison and she headed toward the stairs.

He softly caressed a spot on his left arm with his right hand as he watched her run up the stairs and enter the room holding her prisoner.

When the door slammed shut behind his wife, he pulled up his left sleeve and pressed his wand against his inner forearm.

His eyes never left the door.

________________________________________

He waited in the study room, not moving an inch from the place where the house-elf had left him. The only light source in the room was the candle on top of the table. The storm finally slowed down, and if he strained his ears enough, he could hear the soft sounds of the drizzle coming in contact with the grounds. His concentration, however, was not on the fickle temper of Mother Nature.

His wife's desperate screams were still ringing in his ears. Momentarily, he allowed his mind to drift off to what had happened earlier.

Even when she was faced with dementors, the signature smirk of the Slytherins had been imprinted on her face. He recalled how they stood defiantly in front of the whole court at the Ministry of Magic as officials read off what crimes they had committed.

Yet, tonight was the first time he had seen Bella’s face turn as pale as it had when she saw their master appear in their house. It turned a few shades paler when he brushed past them, going straight to where the Mudblood was being kept. Before she could comment or even attempt to stop the Dark Lord, however, she fell to the floor, bound by the Full Body Bind.

The Dark Lord halted in his stride. An aura of power, mixed with silent anger, filled the room, almost suffocating Rodolphus. Without turning around, their master said quietly, “I will overlook it this time, Bella. If this happens again, I will not be so kind. Perhaps it would do you well to remember: Lord Voldemort always knows. Release her after I leave, Rodolphus.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He watched as the Dark Lord made his way up the stairs before his eyes landed on his wife. Her eyes were pleading him to release her, but both of them knew it was a futile request.

When his wife was finally released from the curse, her screams filled the house, filling in every empty corner.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. He immediately dropped down to the floor, recognizing his master’s presence even before he saw him.

He vaguely remembered giving the Dark Lord reports about what happened afterwards and receiving directions about what to do hereafter before he returned to his home.

Bella was still sitting on the floor, a look of despair and hatred on her face.

It was at the moment when Rodolphus realized that his master’s words were correct again.

The conflict between the lioness and the serpent would never end.
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Prisms of Darkness