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Weave a Circle Round Him Thrice	By : SRaven_Underhill Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 14494 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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AN: Thank you to SerpentInRed for reviewing! I hope you like the new chapter :)

Chapter IV – Magical Companions

            Hermione felt heavy, as if her limbs had lead weights attached to them, yet she felt remarkably comfortable. However, as consciousness slowly crept through her fog-addled brain, she became less so. Her head pounded with a steady tempo near her temples, causing her to clench her eyes shut tight. Just as she was wishing that she could slip back into unconsciousness, a glass vial was held against her lips. Her immediate reaction was to press her lips into a thin line, but a high-pitched voice pleaded with her.

            “It’s for your headache, misses,” the house elf said.

            Easily convinced due to her extreme discomfort, she conceded and swallowed all of the potion offered to her. Within seconds the steady pounding began to ebb and she sighed in relief. Slowly, she opened her eyes, thankful that the light in the room was rather dim. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she wasn’t in her cell and the comfort she had noticed earlier was due to the bed she now rested on. A bed. With a real mattress and fluffy pillows. Granted, the bed wasn’t very large and the room’s furnishings were rather sparse, but it was a definite upgrade from the cold cell.

            The house elf stared at her with wide eyes. “Misses must stay in bed. Someone will be in to check on her later.”

            Before Hermione could respond, the house elf had disappeared. She didn’t move for several minutes. Though her head was feeling better, she still felt incredibly weak. She pushed herself up into a sitting position with a grimace. She glanced over at a small empty bookcase (an empty bookcase, what a travesty), and contemplated how she had arrived in this room. The last thing she remembered was being in the bath with Voldemort. A blush crept up her cheeks. Well not with Voldemort, they had been speaking about something. Her brow creased as she tried to remember. A book, a rather old and rare book on magic. Hermione closed her eyes, but she couldn’t really remember anything after that, just a vague and powerful feeling of relaxation. With her eyes closed and her headache mostly stymied, she began to fall asleep again. She managed to fight it for a few more minutes before giving in.

***

            Ron and Harry stared sullenly at the small fire between them. They had the locket, yet they had no idea how to destroy it. Ron, of course, had pointed this out to Harry several times already. The problem was that Harry didn’t know how to destroy the horcrux or how to find out a way to do so, and he was rather bitter (though he didn’t admit it to Ron) that Dumbledore hadn’t imparted that knowledge to him. It seemed kind of important. Harry stole a quick glance at Ron and sighed, he wished Hermione were here. Hermione would have been able to figure out how to destroy a horcrux.

            “Maybe we should go to the Burrow…” Ron said suddenly, breaking the silence.

            Harry looked up at him. “Are you mental? We can’t go back there,” he said, poking the fire with a nearby stick.

            Ron returned to looking sullen before broaching his next idea. “I know another place, but I don’t know if anyone is there.”

            Harry waited for him to continue.

            “It used to be my aunt’s place, Shell Cottage. On a quiet beach,” Ron said, resting his face in his hands. “Bill and Fleur were supposed to live there together. Not sure if they’re there now though.”

            “It might be worth a go,” Harry said, suddenly feeling a bit more hopeful. “Maybe we can try after nightfall,” he suggested.

***

            After several hours, Hermione woke up again, slowly opened her eyes, and screamed.

            The Dark Lord looked down at her impassively. “Good evening, Ms. Granger,” he said with a smirk.

            Hermione narrowed her eyes. He had done that on purpose. “Why the sudden change of scenery?” She asked, gesturing to the room.

            He turned from her for a moment to grab a vial from the nearby desk. “I had to see if you were capable. You see, Ms. Granger, I’ve been working on something recently and you seemed like the best test subject.” He returned to the side of the bed and held the vial to her lips. “Drink.”

            Joy. Being the Dark Lord’s test subject had always ranked rather highly on her list of “Incredibly Stupid Things To Do Before I Die.” Hermione eyed the deep blue liquid suspiciously, but drank it anyway. Probably easier than having him force her to drink it. “And what are you working on?” She asked, realizing that a straight answer from him would be something of a miracle.

            “You will find out in time,” he replied, deliberately cryptic. Before she had a chance to respond, he pulled out the small black book that he had showed her once before and set it on the bed next to her. “You are to read this and have a thorough understanding of its concepts by tomorrow afternoon.”

            “Is there going to be an exam?” She said, not bothering to hide the facetious undertones.

            “Oh, I will be quizzing you personally, Ms. Granger,” he said before walking to the door. He paused, his hand resting on the doorframe as he looked at her, “Sleep well.” Never had the phrase sounded so ominous.

            She rolled her eyes and looked down at the book. It was so unassuming; it could easily be overlooked in a library. She picked it up and held it, caressing the cover with her right hand before opening it gently. Though the book was physically small, it was by no means short on information. The writing was small and cramped and at times Hermione had to squint to read it. It was split up into different sections, the first discussing the definition of “Magicae” and how magic itself wasn’t evil or good; those moralities were forced upon it by the wizard or witch practicing it. Hermione hadn’t thought of it that way before, but it made sense.

            Though Lord Voldemort had bid her to sleep, Hermione couldn’t put the book down. It was like finally getting a sip of water after traveling for miles through the desert. She took the opportunity to quench her thirst. As she read she began to question the differentiations of magic that were so commonly taught. She paused at the end of a chapter to reflect and possibly call it a night, but when she glanced back down to read the title of the new chapter, her eyebrows rose. Chapter V: Magical Companions. The book pulled her back into its pages and she vowed that after this chapter, she would get some sleep.

           ***

            Harry and Ron stood outside on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Shell Cottage was dimly lit from the inside, the flickering light of candles barely visible through the cream colored curtains. The only sound they heard was the waves crashing against the rocks below them. Harry and Ron approached the cottage cautiously and looked through the windows. Bill and Fleur were sitting quietly at a small wooden table, staring down into steaming mugs. Ron breathed a sigh of relief and went to knock on the door.

            “It’s me!” Ron said, as the door had not yet opened.

            Bill opened the door slowly, his wand at the ready. “Ron?” Bill paused for a moment, “How did Fred first show his magical abilities?”

            “What?” Ron asked incredulously.

            “Just answer the question!” Bill said.

            “H-He blew up the toilet downstairs,” he said, never thinking he would be forced to answer such a question under these circumstances.

            Harry snorted and Bill lowered his wand. “Harry too? Come inside,” he said, opening the door and ushering them in.

            Fleur peered out from the kitchen. “Who iz eet?”

            “Ron and Harry,” Bill replied, looking perplexed.

            They all gathered in the kitchen and sat down at the table.

            “What happened?” Bill asked.

            “It’s kind of a long story…” Harry began.

***

            Hermione set the book on the nightstand and lay back, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t read much before about magical companions, but it was fascinating; the idea that people could have compatible magic cores kind of reminded her of wands and their relationship to the wielder. Though the idea was intriguing, Hermione had her doubts. She wasn’t sure it was possible that one’s magic could become stronger simply by finding a magical companion. Perhaps people long ago simply fooled themselves into thinking as such. Perhaps it had just been the product of good work and excellent partnerships. Hermione yawned and turned over on her side. She looked forward to finishing the book in the morning. She couldn’t imagine what kind of “quiz” Voldemort would conjure up, but she was sure it would be unpleasant. She didn’t know why, but she was determined to impress him.

            Within minutes, Hermione fell asleep, dreaming of dark figures, unspoken promises, and powerful magic.

***

            In the study adjacent to her room, Lord Voldemort sat at a large mahogany desk, where various pieces of note-filled parchments covered the surface. He smirked as he thought of Hermione Granger, the clever little witch, soon to be his clever little witch. He picked up a crystal decanter, his slender fingers gripping the neck of it, and poured himself a glass of wine. The Potter boy wouldn’t know what hit him.
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Weave a Circle Round Him Thrice