Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 37648 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

There's an apprehensive naked little trembling boy

With his head in his hands

There's an underestimated and impatient little girl

Raising her hand

But it's easy not to

So much easier not to

And what goes around never comes around to you

To you, to you

Get up, get up, get up off of it

Get out, get outta here, enough already

Get up, get up, get up off of it

Wake up

Alanis Morissette, Wake up.

Chapter five

It is a huge disappointment to Lord Voldemort. He will not deny it. The girl had died. Hermione Jean Granger, Undesirable no. 1, had died from his oh so carefully constructed personal curse. He had not expected that to happen. He was certain when he created it that she would survive. He had ten years to think about how to get his revenge on that blasted Mudblood, and here he is, empty handed. That horrible woman has thwarted him once more by dying prematurely.

Lord Voldemort watches the trembling Healer that stands before him. Useless, they are all useless. 'What is the cause of death?' he asks sharply.

He needs to know the answer; if he will ever have a use for that curse again, then he needs to know what caused it to kill. Perhaps he can perfect it, but there is no use for it now. The thought annoys him severely. He created that curse specifically for Granger, and she wasn't supposed to die from it. Lord Voldemort does not make mistakes like that. There has to be an answer. Which, he suddenly realises, he still has not gotten! He eyes the silent Healer with fury in his crimson eyes. He knows the ferocity of his gaze makes the Healer even more nervous, and he sees the man's eyes darting around the room trying to desperately avoid the gaze of the man before him.

'Answer me,' he says calmly.

Right now, his tone is the kind that his most loyal followers fear the most. Those who know him will not misinterpret this alleged calmness and quietness for safety.

'Probably cellular degradation,' the Healer responds shaking.

'Probably?' Voldemort repeats questionably.

And he knows this man is definitely useless. An imbecile, who does not know how to do his job, how to please his superiors, his Master, Him. He will have to correct that lapse in education soon. Lord Voldemort shall show the man what is required of him.

'We don't really understand why she died,' the Healer says, closing his eyes in terror, waiting for the curse to strike him.

'I see,' Voldemort says softly and he raises his wand, but the Healer gets saved by the arrival of Liam Sloan.

'Master, all International Apparition Activity has been ceased, and I have ordered the creation of the wards around the nation to avoid her slipping away from this country in another manner.'

Lord Voldemort eyes the Unspeakable with appreciation. He has not ordered the man to raise the Nation Wide Wards, but the man has thought on his own, considered the Dark Lords needs, and has acted upon them. Yes, men like that he can use more off amongst his ranks. And he realises that unlike so many of his Death Eaters, Sloan can actually pull together two viable thoughts in a row.

'Good work, Sloan,' he says shortly, 'however, it appears these alleged Healers over here could not safe Granger's life, and they also seem incapable of answering the reasons behind her dying.'

And he directs his attention back to the terrified Healer.

'Perhaps they are trying to hide their own incompetence from me. Perhaps they are hoping that I will think it was my curse that killed the girl instead of their own mind-boggling clumsiness and failure to succeed in their chosen line of work. Perhaps they are trying to lie to Lord Voldemort.'

The Healer is now shaking his head sideways vigorously, desperate in denying the accusations. Voldemort narrows his eyes at the despicable man before him. Useless, utterly useless.

'My Lord, perhaps we should take a look at the body ourselves,' Sloan suggests.

See, there are still some intelligent people in this world. He knows there are not many, having travelled a lot and seen the world. He had soon realised people are too stupid to allow them choices of their own to make. People need to be told what to do by their superiors. By those who can think, by those who have a brain and use it. Lord Voldemort considers himself one of those people, of course. And he has reached the conclusion that Sloan definitely is a thinker too. Maybe the man can fill the empty spot Severus has left behind. He has always regretted having to kill Snape. He needed the Elder Wand though, but still, it has been a huge loss.

'Lead the way, Healer,' Voldemort says and he is using that term loosely, when it comes in concern with this sorry excuse for a man.

And so here they are, standing in the mortuary watching the dead body of Aine Alberon, a.k.a. Hermione Jean Granger. Lord Voldemort is eyeing the body in disgust. She wasn't supposed to die. She wasn't supposed to escape him so easily. She was supposed to have suffered, and suffered, and suffered some more. Ten years, ten years it has taken him to capture the girl. Only for her to end up here in this icy, cold place, beyond his reach, forever.

This is not how he had perceived his vengeance to work out. And he is angry about it, furious, and he feels wrathful. He wants to destroy something, someone, anyone for this dreadful disappointment. He wants to destroy Hermione Jean Granger. And in his anger he raises his wand at the dead body and blasts it to pieces.

And he sees it happen. Seconds before his curse hits the body, it transforms. And in that split second, he sees the face of Sir Reginald Murdoch and he knows Hermione Jean Granger has fooled him again. A horrible smile grows on his features and his eyes sparkle when he realises the wretched girl is still alive. She is still out there, waiting to be captured, waiting for him to get even with. Lord Voldemort will still get his revenge. She cannot fool him forever.

Then, it occurs to him. He pulls the Amulet of Aine from his pocket and looks at it. It seems the genuine deal, but he knows it can't be. Granger wouldn't have handed him the Amulet that easily. He flings his wand at it and the Amulet bursts into a million pieces. It is a fake. The real Amulet is protected by the magic of the elves. He would not have been able to destroy that one so easily. Granger has not only escaped him, but she also has the Amulet. He feels his temper rise again to an astronomical size. He turns around to Sloan and says quietly: 'You have until the end of this month to find her. Make sure you do.'

And he turns around and leaves the mortuary. He leaves St. Mungo's and London. Lord Voldemort goes back to the only place he has ever considered home. He goes back to Hogwarts.

And now here he is, pacing his personal quarters. It has been a whole week and he has not heard a damn thing from Sloan on his progress. He is still cross with the Daily Prophet, because they printed that ridiculous story of Granger's death. And worst of all, tonight will be the anniversary of his victory, and he does not feel like celebrating. Sloan should have brought him a real gift. Sloan should have brought him Hermione Jean Granger. Perhaps he has been mistaken about the man after all. Perhaps he is just as much a moron as the rest of them. Perhaps he shall kill him. The thought calms him down considerably. Yes, if Sloan will not hand over Granger tonight, he will torture and kill him. And finally, he is looking forward to tonight, to the party, to the festivities in his honour.

And Lord Voldemort makes an entrance. He knows how to do that. A speech, which is carefully constructed, and he brings it in a manner to not only satisfy the masses, but lull even the most critical of minds to sleep. Not that Lord Voldemort needs to worry about critique. No one will dare. He is engaged in a boring conversation with the Minister of Magic, when he sees Malfoy and Lestrange pass, screaming to some woman called Molière.

From the corner of his eye, he notices the annoyance that flies over the Molière woman's face. He is certain other people, less observant than Lord Voldemort, will have missed this brief true exhibition of the woman's feelings. Apparently, he isn't the only one bored to the teeth. It amuses him, but then, he sees the bottle with the orange pills. Merlin, please, Bella cannot possibly be pregnant again, can she? Perhaps he shall consider a permanent solution to that problem and deal with Rodolphus's little accessory tonight. He can't have his most valuable Death Eater laying in childbirth every single year. Bella has tasks to perform; important tasks.

It is then that he hears it. The thought hits his mind like so many others, but this one is so out of the ordinary that he tunes into it. It is coming from the Molière woman.

'Godric, help me; as if the only reason for a woman to be nauseous and vomit can be that.'

He snorts. Funny woman. He notices the confusion in the Minister's face, but chooses to ignore it. Lord Voldemort does not explain himself to his subordinates. And he decides to draw his attention towards the thoughts of that strange, funny woman, who apparently shares his repugnance for pregnancy. Maybe she even dislikes infants as well, but he knows that will make her too perfect and Lord Voldemort is very much alone in his perfection. He knows that to be the case for sure. Only the next thought that hits him, shakes him to the very core of his being.

'I can't believe this is happening. Not right now, not when I still have a job to do. Come on Hermione, pull yourself together!'

'Granger! That wretched woman certainly has some nerve,' he thinks.

And Lord Voldemort turns and swoops over there, preparing to curse Hermione Jean Granger. It is when he notices Narcissa has helped her into a chair, and this so called Miss Molière is holding on to her head like it is killing her. He, quickly, sizes her up. This can't be. Roughly, he pulls her arm out of the way and places his hand on her forehead. He notices that she closes her eyes, when he touches her like that. She is definitely burning up. She has all the symptoms. And she obviously has been transfiguring herself again, but still… he has only seen these symptoms in one other before. And he does not like the fact that a mere Mudblood mirrors his performance so often.

'Go fetch a healer, Bella. Quickly, she's dying.'

Lord Voldemort knows he does not have to carry the girl. He knows he can levitate her. But he also knows that is what she probably will prefer, so he decides to irk her and carry her to his quarters. That same delicious cinnamon smell fills his nostrils again, when her blond haired head falls onto his shoulder. The paralysis has started. That Healer better arrive quickly or he will have not other choice but to burn St. Mungo's to the ground.

What was Granger thinking, coming here? Surely, she would have realised that it would be a one-way trip. She has to be planning something, but what can it be? Nagini? It is a possibility, but why would she take the risk? Now that he has her in custody, he can find out the location of the Amulet from her easily. And even if she could have destroyed his last Horcrux, once he has the Amulet he can create new ones. Perhaps she has been planning to get herself killed. To take the information with her to the grave. She is a Gryffindor, after all. And Gryffindors do have that strange concept of heroics he fails to see useful. Still, she has never struck him as the suicidal type. And she was there when he destroyed Murdoch, thinking it was her…

She was there. A smile creeps on his face. She was standing behind a door when he tortured and killed someone in her place. Now, that is interesting. That gives him options. Something to work with. Perhaps he shall reconsider his plans for her. Yes, he will. He feels his heartbeat speed up in excitement at the delightful thought. A challenge; she will prove to be a challenge, no doubt. But there will be the talks. If he lets a Mudblood live…

They will not dare. The mere concept of insubordination is ridiculous. Besides, it is not like he is going to offer her a place in his inner circle. He is going to destroy her, but not in the manner he first deemed suitable. This way will be far more painful for her, and far more enjoyable for him. And he does not have to risk her dying from that blasted curse, since he still has not learnt the true reason behind Murdoch's death while enduring it.

Sure the man was old, but that is no excuse to die. Dying, another human weakness he despises. But he will conquer death again. Granger will tell him where she hid the Amulet of Aine and he will become immortal forever. He places her down on the bed gently. Lord Voldemort feels very happy, as happy as he had felt when he first learnt that the concept of multiple Horcruxes is a possibility.

He looks at his captive on the bed. She looks horrible. He knows how she feels right now and he remembers. It is not a nice feeling, not a nice feeling at all. She looks awfully still though. She is breathing, isn't she? He sits down on the bed beside her and places his hand on her chest. He feels incredibly relieved when he notices the shallow movements. He can tell by looking at her that her visual has gone blurry. No one can tolerate his gaze and look back at him like that, untouched and unharmed. However, that means Granger is on the verge of collapsing completely. What is keeping Bella and that no doubt insipid Healer she will bring along with her? Whoever it is, they better know their business, because if Granger dies he will have to take it out on someone, and who will be better suited than the person responsible? And he isn't referring to himself in that context.

A knock on the door pulls him out of his chain of thought. Finally.

'Enter,' he says, impatient.

Sweet Salazar, a child. Bella brought me a child impersonating as a Healer. Really, that pregnancy thing must be doing some serious damage to her brain. He'll have to make sure to attend to Rodolphus and chop it off first thing after he's done here. This kind of nonsense has to stop.

Nightingale is what the Healer calls herself. Well, as long as she doesn't start chirping then that's fine by him. But he has to make sure. If this Healer doesn't know what she's doing, then Granger will die, and the delicious taste of revenge will be lost permanently, and that is not a viable option. So Lord Voldemort questions the Healer. She seems uneasy, but everybody is uneasy around him. So, unfortunately, that renders no information about her qualifications. Granger's thoughts are entering his mind when he quizzes the Healer. Apparently, her mind is still capable of functioning, because she is able to deduce why the Dark Lord is not pleased with Bella's choice in Healers.

'Oh, so she must look young.'

'Very young, Hermione Jean, very young and inexperienced, no doubt,' is the unspoken and unshared reply that goes through his mind. It's the latter that is his major concern. And when he questions the Healer about Transfiguration Syndrome, his concerns are not set at ease. Healer Nightingale is able to give a relative accurate description of the theory of the Syndrome, but obviously has no practical experience with it. He hears Granger's ironic thought upon hearing the description.

'Well, that sounds like an awful way to go.'

'Absolutely, but isn't any way to go horrible? However, you will not die yet, Miss Granger. Lord Voldemort does not permit it,' he thinks to himself.

And he explains the situation to the Healer, correcting the woman's misinterpretations.

'There is no mistaken Transfiguration Syndrome, Healer Nightingale. I've seen these very symptoms on myself fifty years ago. This woman's appearance is not how she was born. Human to human transfiguration can cause the Syndrome to occur just as badly as with human to animal transfiguration. The treatment, fortunately, is the same as with Animagal Transfiguration Syndrome. So I suggest you begin to heal her, because I will be very displeased with you if Miss Hermione Jean Granger, here, dies.'

His penetrating gaze falls upon the Healer, and he sees her shift uncomfortably under its force. The point has come across. Fail him, and you will suffer and die. He knows he can leave now. For a second, his eyes dart back to the woman on the bed next to him. Lord Voldemort pulls her wand out of her pocket and he strokes her hair. The last thought he hears from her, amuses him greatly.

'I definitely need some shampoo now.'

'By the time I'm done with you, Miss Granger, no amount of shampoo or soap will be sufficient enough to wash away that feeling.'

This thought alone makes him feel very, very happy, and he walks out of the room with sheer pleasure. Now, he feels like celebrating his victory, and he goes back to the party.

The following days turn out to be quite wonderful. The Healer isn't completely useless and has begun to slowly reverse the effects of the syndrome. Granger herself is fighting the illness with an incredible strength, and even though she is still very feverish, he can tell she will beat this disease due to the slow reappearance of her own features. Her eye colour has turned brown again, and her hair, though still blond, is starting to become her own ringlet curls.

And he is present for it all. Though, the two women in the room are not aware of his presence. At first he simply arrived visible to both, knowing that Granger's state does not give her the ability to witness his presence anyway, but the Healer got so nervous when he was around that she kept on breaking every bottle. And since he still needs the woman to do her work properly, he decided to go to the room and sit there invisible, and watch the scene play out before him.

He knows from personal experience that the fever accompanying the Transfiguration Syndrome will last several days and he plans to make use of it. People chat in their fevers. They tell you all kinds of things they will never reveal in their waking moments. Embarrassing things, things he can use against her. And so he files every thought, every spoken word, that Hermione Granger's mind comes up with, into his own mind.

And after she wakes up, being her old self again, he decides to continue this charade for a little while longer, wondering if she will let something slip to the Healer, wondering if the Healer may do something unwise. Lord Voldemort has noticed the Healer's sympathy towards Hermione Granger, and he is hoping that sympathy may trigger some action on Granger's part. But Granger isn't that stupid. Apparently, she doesn't trust the Healer at all, because she tells her absolutely nothing. And at some point, he has to physically restrain himself, when the Healer practically offers the girl a perfectly fine escape route out of his hands.

Lord Voldemort sits in his chair, when the Healer holds out her hand and offers Hermione the Portkey she has been using to get in and out of these chambers. He notices how Granger merely watches the silver-green vase, and he is ready to use a simple 'Accio', if she will attempt to take it in her hands. But to his surprise, Granger does not accept the vase. Instead she tells the Healer to keep it. He narrows his eyes because of this unusual behaviour. What is she getting at? Why doesn't she want to leave? Surely, she can't possibly think, she can still get to Nagini? He has made sure that is impossible now. Especially, after her feverish mind has revealed to him that was indeed her initial plan upon coming here.

After the Healer leaves, he watches Granger for a long time. She is sitting on that bed like she doesn't have a single care in the world. Like she is safe at home with her friends and family. Calmly, comfortable, at ease, that is the aura she is displaying and it irks him severely. Why is she so calm? Why isn't that damn woman frightened? She knows where she is. She knows who has taken her prisoner. And here she is sitting on that damn bed with her eyes closed, her legs crossed, her hands folded into each other and that serene, small smile on her face. She is happy for some inconceivable reason.

He wants to hex that infuriating smile off her face, but he knows he has to wait. She isn't recovered completely, and he does not want a repetition of the events with Murdoch. He has seen quite a number of interesting things in her mind during the last few days, but now she is no longer induced by fever, her mind has turned back into a logical, analytic state of being and the thoughts she is emanating, though still interesting, are far less revealing to him. He is wondering how many more green pastures, flowing meadows, flowery fields, and silvery streams he can take. Surely, the woman will have something far more important to consider than this obnoxious, sedating, nature thing. If he isn't so certain that it is impossible, he would have thought that she does it on purpose to annoy him.

But still, there is something about those exact nature thoughts that reminds him of something from a long time ago. Something he has done himself. If she has…? No, they do not take in women. It is an all-male monastery, after all. But there she sits, and that stupid smile reminds him an awful lot of his mentor at that place. He named the fool Hamlet, because of all his 'to be or not to be' remarks. For some insipid reason, the Knights do not use names to describe themselves. He had always found that rather inconvenient. What was that ridiculous saying again? Oh yeah, for one is all and all is one being. Such a load of crap. Just like that stupid love story. They are always full of that kind of nonsense. Well, he travelled the world and none of their beliefs stopped his rise to power. He has changed the world, while they are probably still chanting to the latest newborn leaf on a tree.

Oh, they have powers. He does not deny that. But they lack in knowing how to use that power. How to properly yield it and change things. How to shape the world around them. Lord Voldemort knows how to do that. He alone recognises the signs and shapes, and acts upon those, while they merely stand by and watch events taking place. He despises the Knights of Silence, and he knows the feeling is mutual. Yet, they do nothing to stop him. He is very grateful for their accommodating nature. He wouldn't have liked to take them on, but he does not have too. They are so passive, so demure… Not like Granger. She couldn't have been there. She is way too feisty. Too aggressive for them. And again, they do not take in women. Lord Voldemort reminds himself of that time and time again, as he watches the waves of the ocean rise and fall upon the beautiful sandy beach.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory