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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 62961 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
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
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author’s note: I’d like to thank everyone who read, rated and reviewed.

Warning smut-alert ahead! The following codes apply to this chapter; descriptive lemon, slightly troublesome concerning consent so N/C, D/s, M/F, BP, minor2. Hope you all enjoy. ;-)

With special thanks to FFnet’s Ali-lue for reminding me to “kill my darlings”.

---

The Apprentice

Chapter Five

Gellert Grindelwald stood quietly. His eyelids pressed together; his fists clenched; he expected his body to keel over any minute now. The serene silence that surrounded him was a sure sign he had to have moved on, passed away, bought the farm, or whatever. Still, it couldn’t hurt to check.

He peeked through one eyelid.

Haha! Game, set, match Grindelwald!

It had worked. Cheerfully, he patted himself. Alright, everything still in working order. Brilliant, yeah Gellert, you definitely are the most brilliant wizard of all. He’d beaten them both at the same time. A chuckle escaped his lips and he looked around the chamber. His cheerful mood dropped instantaneously when he saw Albus Dumbledore give him the most murderous glare ever. Not good.

Quickly, he looked in another direction, which brought him eyelevel to Lord Voldemort. Yikes!

The way the man smiled sweetly at him made it very clear the Potter boy had just been bumped from the number one slot. Crap. For the first time in all eternity those two had to agree on something and it had to be killing him! Life was so unfair.

‘Gellert?’ Albus asked calmly.

‘Yes?’ he replied, frowning. He didn’t much care for that quality in Dumbledore’s voice; it meant the man was up-to-something.

‘Do you mind informing us all as to why you revoked Article Nine?’ Albus asked, tapping with his wand against his leg.

Well, hell yeah he minded. He hadn’t given it any thought. He had to give a reason. Uhmm… why – why – why?

‘Whenever you’re ready, Gellert,’ Voldemort’s voice mocked, twirling his wand in his hand.

Well, there was the notion of Him killing them all. But somehow he didn’t think Albus would find that a valid enough reason. Some of the others might, but not Albus. Come to think of it, he found another thing Voldemort would agree on with Albus. It was an unusual night.

Besides, it would be impossible to prove. No, his reasoning had to involve the situation with the girl. He drew a blank. Albus had been right; Voldemort had crossed the line. Think, damn it, think.

‘Yes, we like to know why you interrupted our decision,’ said Li Mei.

Our decision! That was the answer. He felt like kissing the witch if she hadn’t belonged to the light side and hadn’t been a woman. ‘Procedure has to be followed; these two started to duel before we reached a consensus.’

Everyone in the room stared at him as if he had just sprouted a second head. Some sighed or even groaned. He had to admit the irony of him quoting procedure was thick, but it bought him much needed valuable time to think of something better.

‘Then let us follow procedure. We vote,’ said Voldemort.

‘Yes,’ Albus concurred quickly. ‘All those in favour of invoking Article Nine say-’

‘No-no-no!’ Gellert intervened. ‘That is not how we do things. We can’t make an informed decision, until we heard all the facts of the case.’ Dear Merlin, where was all the moaning and whining when he needed it?

Juanita sighed. ‘I hate to say this, but Gellert has a point.’

Yes, time, thank you Garcia y Ortega.

‘We discussed it thoroughly enough, Juanita,’ Albus replied.

So, if it came to a vote, it was currently seven against six. Seven of the dark and six of the light. Only Voldemort would vote similar as the light side, so it was six against seven.

‘No Albus, we heard your side of the story; we never heard his,’ Juanita said.

He had to swing someone from the light side to vote with him.

‘If you had seen Hermione, you would not be making this statement, Nita,’ said Li Mei softly.

Who to convince? Mei was out; she and Albus were like two peas in a pod – two rotten, moulded peas.

Juanita stayed silent for a moment. She shook her head. ‘Maybe not, Mei. Maybe I would let my emotions cloud my judgement too.’

Volkova? Nope, she’d never bought any of his stories.

‘Are you saying I am being biased?’ Li Mei shouted, outraged. ‘Typical, typical. Let’s excuse the little, tiny Chinese girl’s arguments, for she is angry about this whole rotten situation, which is soooo cute, and we all know that cute, little, emotional women can’t think straight. You racist, chauvinistic, bull-torturing, tortilla bitch.’

Everyone held their breath.

Perhaps Juanita?

Then, the volcano erupted. Albus jumped between the two when Juanita whipped out her wand; Ljudmila Volkova grabbed her wandarm, pulling it down. Sparks impacted on the floor.

‘Try me! Try me!’ Mei shouted, casting a curse around Albus, who made soothing gestures in vain.

‘Umph,’ Volkova groaned; an elbow had landed in her stomach and she’d let Juanita go.

‘My pleasure!’ shouted Juanita, flashing her wand. An enormous bull thundered through the room, heading straight for Mei. ‘There you go, you dog-eating, dragon-killing, rice-filled crackpot!’

No, Garcia followed protocol and Voldemort broke it. Despite her current argument with Mei, she would still side with her when the voting started. He would not be able to convince her otherwise. Gunvald lost his brother during Voldemort’s first reign. That left him with Donahue; Donahue hated his guts. He was screwed. Unless…

Unless he could avoid that some of them got to vote for – er – emotional reasons! Thank you Li, for supplying him with the answer. Albus could be removed for reasons of personal interest. He supplied Hermione as a candidate, which made him biased; though that would get him eliminated from the vote, too. Albus would undoubtedly state that he had an interest in Hermione’s death, since it gave his candidate a larger chance. Oh, that would apply to Mei too then, since her candidate was also still in the running. Ah, now he was getting somewhere. Uhmm… that would make it… five to five. Damn. Wait, he could Voldemort excused as well, for obvious reasons. HA! Four to five, victory was his.

No wait, Dumbledore would find use of his method to excuse Sharasvati Nathaira. Albus would say all the “guides” had a personal interest, too. Crap, four to four again. He was getting nowhere. A tie didn’t help him this time, since the rules stated that the accused and accuser had a final say then.

‘Gellert?’

So, he had to avoid it coming to a vote. How could he possibly prevent it?

‘Gellert!’

Shocked, he looked up. The fight was over, already? He had nothing, zip. His eyes fell on Lord Voldemort, who practically lounged in the couch, smirking. The man knew he had him trapped. If only he could turn his plan against him; if only … he could make him not want to have Article Nine invoked! He’d been trying to swing the wrong person. Besides, why should he have to do all the work? It was his mess; let him clean it up.

With a wicked smile, Gellert looked up. ‘I’d liked to bring under attention that after we heard all the arguments, and if we vote to invoke Article Nine, then we all have the responsibility to assist in the fulfilment of the execution.’ There, smirk at that, Tommy-dearest.

Lord Voldemort stiffened in the couch. He obviously hadn’t planned to take them all on at once. He had wanted the element of surprise, which Gellert had now conveniently screwed over. But Gellert was pretty sure the man would have an out; he always planned for every eventuality.

‘Gellert is right,’ Kollberg stated. ‘It’s not supposed to be a duel and it’s unfair of us to lay it all on Albus’s shoulders.’

Murmurs of agreement all around.

‘Aren’t you walking ahead of yourself?’ Sharasvati Nathaira stated. ‘We haven’t even heard both sides and you’ve already decided the outcome. As a guide myself, I have to find it incredibly disturbing that this Council has decided we can no longer discipline our apprentices in the way we see fit. The Mu- girl was still alive if I understood Albus correctly.’

‘Ah,’ Gellert responded, deciding he was feeling vindictive enough to rub the proverbial salt in the wound. ‘But we have established already that it is not about whether or not she is going to die; it is the fact that he took the deliberate risk.’

His grin was met with a satisfied expression on the Dark Lord’s face. Gellert frowned. Not what he had expected.

‘There is no risk,’ Lord Voldemort said smoothly, not taking his eyes of Gellert.

Confused voices spoke through one another. ‘Nightmare Curses are always a risk.’

‘I daresay-’

‘Let me finish,’ Voldemort spoke softly.

Silence returned; everyone looked at him curiously.

‘I build in a safeguard into the fundaments of the nightmare. If her life becomes at risk, the safeguard will kick in, preventing such an,’ he paused, ‘unfortunate outcome,’ he sneered.

‘For crying out loud man, why didn’t you say so?’ McFerlon said, exasperated. ‘We have been here for almost the entire bleeding night.’

‘What a waste of time,’ Bouvier muttered darkly, getting to his feet to leave.

‘I missed the Eagles play the Dolphins for this,’ grumbled Donahue.

‘Next time you call a meeting, Albus,’ Nathaira sneered, ‘make sure there actually is an issue.’

All of the Keepers vacated the chamber rather quickly, until only three people remained. ‘Well,’ Gellert said, slapping his hands on his legs, while getting to his feet, ‘I’ll guess I’ll be going then too.’

‘Why leave?’ asked Voldemort sweetly.

‘Do stay around,’ Albus spoke simultaneously.

Gellert froze, his eyes darting between them, while both wizards glared at each other. They each still had their wands out.

‘Doesn't the great Dumbledore have to go and make sure the Mudblood is all right? You wouldn't want the world to see how little you care, would you?’ Voldemort sneered. ‘Besides, it's not like I'll be needing your assistance in dealing with pitiful losers as him.’

‘I have every confidence in Miss Granger's capabilities to take care of herself. I believe, however, that my business with Gellert is much more pressing than yours,’ Albus replied coldly.

It was amazing neither of their wands broke from the tension in which they were being held.

‘It’s been – er – fun,’ Gellert said, coughing nervously as he began backing up. ‘But I-I can’t stay, you know, only allowed to leave Nurmengard on Keeper related business and uhmm…’ His hand clutched the doorknob; he turned it, nothing. Crap! Albus and his damn stealthy Locking Charms.

‘Whose business is more pressing is all in the eye of the beholder,’ Voldemort stated, ignoring Gellert completely.

‘Then it seems we have reached an impasse,’ Albus replied thoughtfully. ‘How do we decide which one of us gets to curse Gellert first?’

‘Now, here now, wait a second,’ Gellert objected, giving the door a good yank. Blasted Anti-Apparation Wards.

‘I may have a suggestion,’ Voldemort said with an evil grin, whipping his wand around.

---

Hermione groaned. Everything hurt; and what was that disgusting sweet metallic taste in her mouth? She opened her eyes. Her pupils dilated in fear when she saw the same dark-haired boy as before.

‘Don’t move,’ he ordered.

‘I-I know you,’ she said, coughing.

‘Great, we can skip the introductions,’ Tom said.

His hands took a hold of her head and he leaned forward.

‘Wha-’

His lips pressed upon hers, opening her mouth. A breath of fresh air swirled down to her lungs, dazing her mind. A tingle of magic came with it and she panicked. Pain shot through her body. She screamed.

‘Don’t fight me,’ Tom said, leaning back, ‘you will die if you do.’

‘Oh yeah, like you care, Lord Voldemort,’ Hermione said, with a distinct sneer to his name.

‘Care or not, I am trying to save you. Most people act a bit more gracious to their saviours.’

‘You dropped me,’ Hermione hissed furiously.

‘So I did,’ he, casually, conceded. ‘It should not have hurt you.’

‘We were up miles!’

‘No, none of this is actually real, Hermione; you’re in a dream state. Nightmares can only affect you in reality if you give them power. And Sweet Salazar, you sure have a lot of power to grant them.’ His eyes gleamed red with greed for a second. ‘I have to say I would never have cursed you in this manner had I known how much of your magic you were holding back.’

‘Oh, so now this is all my fault.’

He smirked. ‘Do you want to die debating the issue, or are you going to let me help you stay alive?’

‘You’re going to help me? Hah! I feel overwhelmed with gratitude,’ Hermione mocked.

‘You should,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘I don’t usually make a habit of saving your kind.’

‘Yeah, I am sure it is my life you’re concerned about.’

‘Why squabble on semantics; let’s focus on the staying alive part,’ said Tom smoothly. ‘You need to let me mingle my magic with yours.’

‘Why?’ Hermione asked suspiciously.

‘So I can heal you.’

His lips brushed hers again. She pushed her body back in the mattress; another wave of pain flushed through her, making her almost pass out.

Tom sighed and just looked at her, until she could breathe normally again.

‘Do you have to do it this way?’ Hermione said, exasperated.

‘You’d think I’d do this if there was another method?’ He snorted. ‘The mingling of magic is a very intimate procedure. Believe me if I say a kiss is the least of our worries. Now shut up and follow my lead, you are running out of time.’

‘hmuummbl.’

She was unable to get another word in, because he kissed her firmly on her mouth. Gradually, she let herself give in to his kiss, his lips moving against hers, his tongue dancing around hers, his breath blowing down her windpipe again. The world swirled. Her eyes closed, she tilted her head. Their magic didn’t mingle; his magic engulfed hers. She gasped as the force of it made its way through her very being, healing her along the way. Her body tingled in its wake. Out of breath, she opened her eyes.

‘Phase one,’ he whispered.

The bed creaked as he positioned his body to hover above hers. The line of heat that radiated against her was almost too much to bear. She wanted to close the distance. She needed him to close the distance. The darkness in his eyes was entrancing. She wanted to drown in them. It called to her with soft, alluring whispers, coaxing the very fibre of her being to his command. Hermione felt confused. Something was wrong, yet felt so right – Lord Voldemort’s hands on her body, Lord Voldemort’s lips against hers skin, Lord Voldemort’s tongue trailing her flesh, and Lord Voldemort’s powerful dark magic seeping through her every pore.

‘Such sweet innocence,’ his breath vibrated against the shell of her ear, ‘it will be my pleasure to take it.’ He licked her ear, gradually moving to the hollow in her throat in a slow, meticulous attention. ‘To taint it.’ His tongue traced her pounding heartbeat in the arteries underneath her skin up her neck to end by her other ear. He spoke in a low, sibilant tone of voice, ‘To rip it apart until only darkness remains.’

Hermione shivered, both in fear and anticipation – one not excluding the other but enhancing the sensation. His teeth grazed past her jaw; she tilted her head to the side and his mouth enclosed around the soft flesh of her neck. She whimpered, trembling. He growled low and bit down, slowly, controlling, stilling her movements like a wild animal bent on domination of his price, his female, his conquest. She surrendered, allowing him this victory, her body his reward, her mind entranced, her soul captured. She was falling fast into that bottomless abyss and there was no brake, no safety net, no light to see with, nothing but him and the darkness he presented her with. Blood trickled down her skin, as he released his hold on her neck. The small red streams mirrored in his dark eyes, which were shining feverishly with delight, before he closed them and licked her blood away with a satisfactory growl.

‘So pure, so kind,’ he spoke, capturing her eyes with his, commandeering her complete attention. His hands on either side of her head, his hips pressed firmly against hers, his legs trapping hers between his. ‘Yet I feel darkness in you, the power you deny yourself, the greatness you could achieve.’ His soft demanding tone of voice fascinated her. ‘Let me show you,’ he added, sitting up, kneeling his legs on either side of her hips, his body a warm weight on top of her burning loins. Antagonising slowly, he unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her black bra and unblemished skin. ‘Let me teach you,’ he purred, massaging her breasts through the bra’s lace with his hands before grazing his nails down her sides. A flick of his wrist and his wand appeared. He trailed the tip along the lines of the lace fabric, following her curves, dipping his wand between her juvenile mounds. ‘Dominate you,’ he suggested, temptingly.

His wand singed her skin, her bra caught in blue fire and she threw her head back with a scream mixed in pleasure and pain as the cold flames licked her breasts, hardening her nipples, sending shivers down her spine. ‘Give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.’

Another flick and every piece of clothing, including his, burst into flames. A heat unlike she ever experienced before made its way through her body, leaving her panting, breathless, her heart in her throat – wanting so much more, needing so much more.

She watched his perfectly lean, smooth body above hers; dark hair brushed against the pale white skin of his cheeks; long double-rowed eyelashes and beautifully arched eyebrows enhanced the depth and blackness of his dark-brown eyes; prominent cheekbones heightened his not too masculine face; a perfect jaw-line radiated his beauty and power; slender long-fingered hands, which took her smaller ones in his and wrapped her fingers around his soft erect flesh carefully – allowing her to feel for the first time what a man felt like. Staring straight into his eyes, Hermione knew Tom Marvolo Riddle had to be the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, and she wanted him, needed him, more than life itself.

A craving in the purest form pushed through her veins, thrumming in her mind, her chest, her loins. Too empty, she was too empty. A longing so intense it was maddening. She screamed. He released her hands and silenced her with a kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, pushing their upper-bodies together. His fingers teased her back. Fingernails left small red scratches as he traced her spine, pushing harder at sensitive parts. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back in ecstasy at his diligent touches.

‘Say yes, Hermione,’ he ordered. ‘Relinquish yourself to me fully.’

Her mind was too incoherent to form words for a reply, the world a blur, her environment a daze; the only focus was Him. One of his arms was now wrapped around her waist, while the other was at the base of her neck, massaging it with a dark intentness, rubbing his magic into her central nervous system. Small moans left her lips, feeling the true force of what she was resigning herself to. A cruel smile danced on his face, watching her yield to his power – her complete and utter failure to stop from falling into the Dark Arts. He was going to enjoy this very much.

His hand stroked through her hair, grabbed a firm hold of a large tuft of soft, brown frizz, and he yanked it to the side violently. She gasped, opening her eyes. His lips hovered above her still bleeding neck. ‘Answer me, Hermione,’ he threatened quietly.

Confused, she blinked at him.

He explained smoothly, ‘Turn yourself, your magic, into my care unconditionally and Lord Voldemort will reward you greatly – unlike he ever has done for anyone before.’

He tasted her sweet blood again, sucking at her neck like a vampire, slowly licking lower and lower to follow the blood-traces on her torso.

‘Please,’ she breathed.

‘Please what?’ he teased, encircling her nipple with his tongue, before drawing in a large amount of her breast into his mouth and sucking at its nipple fervently.

She bucked against him, her torso lifting from the mattress. ‘Oh God!’ she yelled; her arms flailing around to find something to hold onto.

‘Not really,’ he chuckled, blowing his breath over her wet mound and nipple before continuing the tormenting touch of his mouth and tongue on her breast again. Her hands found the biceps of his upper-arms and she dug her nails into his flesh. Swearing, he roughly undid her grip, grabbed her wrists in one hand and pushed them above her head in the pillow.

‘I’ll have to punish you for that,’ he breathed into her face.

His eyes darkening, he cupped her breast and squeezed it hard with his free hand. She screamed in pain. His bruising grip surrounded her nipple, pushing it up. Tom lowered his mouth and started sucking. Her yells turned from pain to passion, becoming louder and louder; her body trashed underneath him. He took advantage of his much taller frame to trap her lower body, force it to still, while gripping her wrists above her head tighter too. She whimpered, wanting to move, needing to move, but not being allowed to.

‘Please,’ she whispered again. ‘Please.’

His dark eyes glanced up from her breast with a devilish glint. His teeth grazed over her breast, taking in her nipple threateningly. His tongue dashed over its tip. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she bucked against him violently. His laugh danced around her. ‘Please what, Hermione?’ he repeated teasingly.

‘Help me,’ she said desperately.

‘Do you want me to take you?’ asked Tom, moving his body so they were face-to-face again.

The soft flesh of his erection brushed her thigh in the movement, causing her stomach to do little flip-flops.

‘Yes, please.’ She needed him; she wanted him inside of her now.

‘Will you submit yourself to me entirely?’ he questioned.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes who?’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

His lip curled, satisfied. ‘Spread your legs,’ he ordered coldly.

She complied, bending her knees.

‘It won’t be quick and it won’t be gentle,’ he warned, positioning himself in front of her opening.

‘Please.’

With a harsh stroke, he entered her wholly, rupturing her virginal walls brutally, bumping her cervix. A pain-filled, high-pitched shriek left her lips. His mouth silenced her, while he held his position deep inside of her core; their hips locked against each other, he trapped her with his weight and power. Dark magic swarmed inside of her, spreading rapidly through every cell of her body. He touched her in places physically impossible. She trembled underneath him, wanting to get away, but unable to. He was a predator; she, his prey, and she was about to be consumed by his power.

Hatred, rage, pure unadulterated evil reached her mind, and everything spun. She couldn’t see straight. It was trying to find a spot to take hold, to seed and grow; determining the path ahead for her. When his magic reached her mouth, seeping back into him, his lips left hers. Staring down at the terrified young woman, he smirked wickedly.

‘And now, my dear, we dance.’

Forcefully, he began moving inside of her, over and over again. Nearly drawing out before smashing his full length back in. She was wet enough, but so tight. To him it felt delicious, but he was sure for her it was incredibly painful. It was obvious when she tried to struggle to get away, but he grabbed her wrists easily and pushed them beside her head in the mattress. No one gets away from Lord Voldemort, once he has his eyes set on obtaining them. Leaning on his arms, his weight pinned her down as the harsh smacks of flesh on flesh kept continuing. All the while he kept a firm lock on her eyes with his, making sure she’d know who she was with – who she’d chosen to surrender to.

Slowly, she began to widen. Her eyes unfocused for a split-second, but he saw it and started hitting that sweet spot inside her over and over and over again. He noticed the confusion on her face when pain turned to ecstasy; she began meeting his trusts with her hips instinctively, wanting it harder, faster, and more forceful. Something large and overwhelming formed inside of her – something with a very dark signature.

‘Wrap your legs around me,’ Tom ordered, perspiring.

She complied and found out it deepened his strokes, made them feel sharper somehow. She threw her head back, her eyes unfocused, as she met his trusts with a sweet desperation to feel fulfilled, to have him claim her very being and make her his. Darkness swirled around the corner of her vision. Her body tingled all over. It was searching, searching for a place to come to completion. Close, so close.

Their eyes met.

‘My Lord!’ she yelled, when he pushed her over the edge of that cliff and into that shaking, overwhelming experience of orgasm, keeping her in that moment by continuing to slam himself inside of her with all the force he could muster. The climax ripped away all her barriers, all her protections against what was trying to find a home inside of her. The darkness planted its seed to grow and ripen, and when she would least expect it; it would flourish and blossom to completion. Tom came when he felt it take hold. Spilling his seed inside of her with a triumphant growl, he collapsed on top of her – thoroughly exhausted; his magic drained to the very last Knut.

For a long time, Hermione kept staring at the ceiling, ignoring the soft black locks that brushed the side of her face and the body that still lay on top of her. She couldn’t believe what’d just happened – what she had done. She had fucked the Dark Lord and, even worse, enjoyed it. She took a deep breath. No, she was being ridiculous. None of this was real; it was all imaginary, fiction if you will – bad fiction; no, worse bad fanfiction. What kind of sick mind would make this up?

‘That would be you, dear,’ Tom said, sneering the endearment; an obvious sign of his excellent recovery skills. He pulled himself out of her and rolled to his side.

‘Your letter, your curse, dear,’ Hermione mocked back.

‘Ah, but your imagination created all this,’ Tom said, waving around. ‘I merely constituted the parameters, you filled them in. But don’t worry, I – Lord Voldemort – don’t mind, I always knew your kind was good for one thing.’

‘Ditto.’

They glared at each other.

‘I think you better wake up now,’ Tom said quietly. ‘I am beginning to question my judgement to keep you alive.’

‘Your judgement has always been questionable. It comes with the territory of insanity. Perhaps some pills-’

‘Now!’ Tom snapped; he pushed his wand between her ribs.

A bright green flash…

She flew to a seated position, gasping for air.

‘Hermione!’ McGonagall shouted.

‘Pro-professor?’ she coughed. ‘Oh, I am gonna be sick.’

She rolled to the side and puked all over a pair of fluffy red slippers. Professor McGonagall didn’t care. She grabbed her shoulders and held her. ‘Hermione, talk to us; are you all right?’

‘Just peachy keen,’ she muttered. She had never been this nauseous in her life.

‘It’s the Nightmare-Diluting Potion,’ a man in a spotless lime green Healer’s robe said haughtily, making Snape scowl. ‘It’s been known to have this side-effect in extreme doses. It will wear off in time.’

‘In time?’ Hermione said weakly, while McGonagall helped her to sit back against a pile of pillows.

‘Or you can take some Anti-Vomiting Potions? You do have those, nurse Pomfrey?’

‘Yes,’ Poppy said slightly irritably, ‘those we have.’

‘Excellent, excellent. Well, I see my work here is done.’ He patted Hermione on the shoulder. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow to check how she is doing, but I am not expecting any more problems. Once they wake it’s usually over. Give Albus my best.’

‘Will do,’ Flitwick squeaked.

Poppy Pomfrey escorted the Healer out.

‘He’s brilliant,’ McGonagall said, ‘but…’

‘Incredibly arrogant,’ Snape added.

‘I was going for annoying,’ McGonagall corrected.

‘That too,’ Snape conceded.

‘Indeed,’ Flitwick said. ‘Still, I’m glad he was here though.’

They all nodded.

Hermione looked around. Every single one of the Professors looked like they had rolled around in blood, puss and other unidentifiable liquids. It was when she realised her bed, everything around it, and she looked like they had been through the same war-zone. ‘What happened?’ she asked, looking around.

A pale Ron waved at her from his bed. She smiled.

‘You were cursed with a nightmare by You-Know-Who,’ McGonagall answered gravely. ‘You almost didn’t make it; but, thank Godric, we were able to keep you breathing long enough for Healer Abercrombie to wake your body.’

They had all been here, while she was having that particular nightmare? Hermione felt the blood rush to her face. They hadn’t noticed anything, had they? If they had, she was leaving and never ever coming back for sure. She glanced at them all, but felt relief when she didn’t see anything on their faces that suggested they had.

‘I believe we could all benefit from a bath,’ Professor Snape said. ‘I trust Miss Granger’s mail will be screened from hereon, since she obviously lacks the necessary skills to do this herself. An accomplishment, I might add, which makes me wonder if her academic achievements so far should not be put under serious review.’

He stalked away without waiting for the answer. On his way to the door, he withdrew twenty points from Gryffindor for creating a chaos in his cupboard. Ron, lacking the time to search through the potions and being unsure which one Professor Snape needed, had simply brought everything that was on the shelf in question. ‘Poppy,’ Snape nodded curtly in passing.

Madam Pomfrey nodded back.

‘Well,’ Flitwick squeaked. ‘I will take my leave also, unless you need me to do anything?’

‘I’ve got it covered,’ Poppy stated. ‘Thank you both.’

Hermione went out of her way to thank them and to say she was sorry she caused them so much trouble. ‘Nonsense, nonsense,’ Flitwick said. ‘Nobody chooses to get cursed for the fun of it.’

‘It’s not your fault, Hermione,’ McGonagall reassured her. ‘If his curse got past the Hogwarts wards, it would have got past any check you could have done to your mail. Nobody blames you.’

Flitwick and McGonagall left, after they had both patted Hermione on her head and had bit her goodnight.

‘Now we can finally clean you up, my dear,’ Poppy said, closing the curtains around them.

In no time Hermione and the entire infirmary were spotless once more. Poppy supplied her with enough Anti-Vomiting Potion to last her a lifetime, and after Hermione had asked, the nurse placed a Dreamless Sleep Potion on her nightstand as well.

‘How are you really?’ Ron whispered from his bed when Poppy went back into her office.

‘A bit nauseous still,’ Hermione admitted. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘Since dinner.’

‘Twelve hours?’

‘Give or take. Harry and the others – you know Ginny, Neville and Luna – have sat beside your bed for awhile, until Professor Dumbledore made them leave. He said you were going to be fine, but he was wrong,’ Ron stopped. ‘You weren’t fine,’ he muttered.

‘They must have been worried.’

‘They were, but at least they weren’t around to see what happened to you later. When they were here, you were just lying still.’

‘Didn’t I do or say anything?’ asked Hermione, worriedly.

‘Well, not at first, but later you screamed a lot and you trashed around in bed. It was horrible. You were bleeding so hard,’ Ron whispered, scratching his neck nervously. ‘I-I thought you were going to die.’

‘Me too.’

‘It’s really beginning now, isn’t it?’ Ron asked. ‘The war I mean.’

‘Looks like it,’ Hermione replied. ‘How are your arms?’

‘Oh, almost better,’ Ron replied, shrugging.

They were silent for awhile.

‘We really are the pathetic ones, aren’t we?’ added Ron. ‘We just can’t seem to stay out of trouble.’

Hermione laughed. She couldn’t help it; Ron just brought that out in her. ‘You do realise that this is going to make Harry even more insufferable?’

Ron groaned. ‘He was already blaming himself yesterday evening. I heard him mumble, “First Sirius and now Hermione”.’

‘He needs to start talking to us, Ron.’

‘He will. When he is ready, he will.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘Do you think we could keep it a secret from him that you nearly died?’

‘Eh, if he is not talking to us…,’ Hermione replied, raising her hands.

Ron grinned.

‘The sun is already rising.’

‘Yeah, it’s been a long night,’ Ron said with a yawn.

‘You need to go sleep.’

‘Yes mum.’

Hermione stuck out her tongue; but not that much later, she heard the soft snores coming from Ron’s bed. His exhaustion had finally got the better of him. Hermione, on the other hand, tired as she was, didn’t feel like sleeping. She had too much to think about. Who had really supplied the vivid images she remembered? Had it really been her or was Voldemort playing her?

The latter was bound to be true either way.

Still, she knew a thing or two about Nightmare Curses and she knew the theory clearly said the victim supplied the majority of the dream contents. But maybe he had made modifications? It couldn’t have been her idea to do that, could it? God, she could still feel his hands on her body.

Hermione closed her eyes. She turned around in her bed. It wouldn’t be so damn bad if she hadn’t enjoyed it that much. Even right now, there was a part of her-

Ugh, she needed to stop thinking about it. Bleeding puppies, kittens in a bag tossed in a stream, Crookshanks dying; there, that’s the appropriate emotion. She only needed to hold on to it. Just hold on to it. Don’t think about…

If it had been her dream, her idea; what did that mean?

She sighed. She needed to stop doing this. It didn’t mean a damn thing. Tom Marvolo Riddle was a manipulative bastard, trying to drive her crazy so she would fail. Besides, Freud was a pre-occupied moron with a sex-complex. It was not like his theories still had any merit today. She didn’t really want to…

With a growl, Hermione turned around and grabbed the bottle of Dreamless Sleep. She decided on a double dose, and finally drifted off.
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The Apprentice