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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N: Thanks to Lildaani, for beta-ing this chapter and to DonnaNoir23 for reviewing!
DonnaNoir23: Hope you enjoy this chapter, too!
Chapter 5
The hazy glow of the moonlight entered the room through the window. From afar, an owl hooted loudly, almost as if it was complaining about the chirping of the crickets.

He closed his eyes, allowing the soft chorus of the night to wash over him.

The scent of freshly spilled blood, faint enough to be missed by most people, reminded him of her death.

The thought of her death.

An unprecedented wrath encompassed his senses and he opened his eyes, glaring at the door that led to where she still lay.

Even in her death, she infuriated him more than Potter.

The annoying little Mudblood.

The shard of glass protruding from her chest …

“Bella!”

The door behind him opened and he turned around, facing one of his most loyal followers.

The pools of blood surrounding her still body, accentuating the milky whiteness of her skin …

“Yes, my Lord.”

He remained silent. For a moment, he relished the idea of ripping the Mudblood's body apart with the different curses he knew before the notion that she was gone forever settled into his mind once more.

Her chocolate-brown eyes were closed, long dark eyelashes brushing against her face, as if she had simply fallen asleep …

His eyes briefly locked with the woman kneeling on the floor before she averted her eyes again.

“Give her a proper burial. You know what to do to those who dare to taint her name,” he said quietly, his eyes flickering only once before darkening, as conflicting emotions collided with one another.

“Yes, my Lord.”

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and turned toward the window once more.

A cloud moved in front of the moon, blocking out her light, and the faint figure of an owl flew across the sky.

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He stayed in the shadows, watching his followers torture the young man. It was pointless to learn the boy's name. He merely wanted information about the Undesirables.

“You have no one left. Who are you going to turn to now, Miss Granger?” he asked, a vicious glow illuminating his blood red eyes.

“I’m getting tired of you, boy,” he quietly said, pulling out his wand, standing up from his chair, and moving into the light.

His followers immediately stopped their curses and bowed towards him, waiting for further instructions.

A faint smile touched Lord Voldemort’s lips when he smelled the pitiful fear emitting from the supposedly courageous Gryffindor chained to the wall.

For the past seven years, he had captured, tortured, and killed so many people from the House of the lions that it became clear to him that the opinions of the Sorting Hat were overvalued. When faced with the possibility of death, they quivered just like a normal Muggle.

Hypocrites.

The words they said, the offers they had made in exchange for their lives, and the things they did were precisely what they had shunned before they had fallen into his hands.

And Pettigrew was only one example.

She stared at him, wordlessly defying him, daring him to kill her. The chocolate brown eyes. Innocent. Too innocent. And too stubborn.

“You will tell me where they are,” Voldemort demanded, his robes swirling around like an ominous cloud as he glided towards the young man, making him look like a demon that had just arrived on Earth from hell.

The prisoner closed his eyes determinedly, as if he was ready for death.

He almost wanted to laugh whenever he saw someone shut their eyes in the face of death. It was an act of cowardice. If they were brave, they would have faced their ends without even blinking.

Once again, he had proven that the so-called values used to Sort students at Hogwarts were a bunch of nonsense.

He pulled her into his arms. Their gazes locked, anger clashing with defiance, embracing one another like a pair of intimate lovers.

Fear was eating through the Gryffindor’s courage. He could see it as if it was laying bare right in front of him. Beads of sweat peppered the young man’s face. The chains holding him back made little jingling noises as he trembled.

“Crucio,” he cast evenly.

A bloodcurdling scream filled the room, bouncing off the walls and escaping through the windows.

“This is the last time I will ask you, boy. Where are they?” he asked after he released the young man from the spell.

“I … I don’t … I don’t know,” the boy stammered, panting and trembling even more from the aftereffects of the curse.

The boy was telling the truth; after all, being at the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse performed by the Dark Lord himself was not a pleasant experience. The answer, however, displeased him.

She writhed in his arms, biting into his shoulder to stop herself from screaming as he nonverbally and wandlessly cast the Cruciatus Curse on her. Her eyes, filled with impudence, burned into his, unyielding even in her pain.

It had been a rash decision, allowing her to live purely because of his boredom, and he admitted that he had underestimated the woman. She had turned out to be much more of a problem than he had thought she would be. Somehow, she had managed to outwit the spy that followed her and was gathering up followers.

The insolent Gryffindor!

“Then what do you know?” he coldly said, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

He approached the young man, stopping mere centimeters from him and studying his features.

And he had thought the boy couldn’t become any more frightened.

“I … I only get instructions from their messengers. They don’t know me well enough to entrust me with their location,” the boy replied, shaking his head, his eyes wide and sweat dripping down his cheeks.

“They surely would’ve told you about their plans to save Miss Granger, wouldn’t they?” he hissed.

“How did you – ”

Secrets will only be secrets if the people who know them are dead. However, it was not his obligation to explain such things to his prisoners, nor did he want to do so.

“Have you seen how predators hunt?” he asked her quietly, releasing her from the curse. “The harder their prey tries to get away, the faster they pursue it.”

Still panting, she replied cheekily, “That only proves that you’re not human.”

Instead of being angry, he merely smiled. “No, Miss Granger. I am much more than a normal human. Make no mistake about that. And you will surrender to me one day.”

He had enough of the hindrance. He needed to know where they were before it was too late. If it was three weeks ago, or even a week ago, he might have been more than happy to play this game of cat and mouse with the witch. Now, however…

He had little time left before his little pet completely broke down.

With a wave of his hand, he released the young man from the chains.

“You will return to them,” he instructed, his red eyes still focused on the boy. “If they do not surrender to me within three days, I will personally search for them myself, and the consequences will be less than desirable for them. Lead him to the door, Lucius.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the blond murmured. He straightened up and pulled the young man towards the door.

“Tell Minerva that it’s useless,” Voldemort spoke up again before they walked out of the dungeons. “The little lioness’s not going back to them.”

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He was a serpent by nature, one that coiled up in the dark corner, waiting for the perfect moment, the second when his victim was the most vulnerable.

Then, he attacked.

And like all other predators, patience was one of his greatest assets. For seven years, he waited for the little Mudblood to surrender to him; he knew that it was a matter of time before she completely succumbed. All she needed was a little push.

Her eyes widened at the realization that she had fallen in love with him. For a moment, he almost wanted to sneer at the notion of love. Instead, he continued to watch her silently as she struggled internally with herself.

As much as he was displeased by the fact that Bella went behind his back and kidnapped his prisoner, he saw it as a chance for Granger to experience what a victim of a true Death Eater was like. He wanted her to realize what she would have been going through if he had not been merciful to her.

However, he had not anticipated what happened after Bella imprisoned the Mudblood. Minerva’s “escape” had, of course, been planned. It was obvious that if he had not allowed it, the woman couldn't possibly leave the mansion, which was protected by wards he himself had set up. It was similar to how a cat would play with a mouse before killing it. He was waiting to see what she would do when she had her supposed freedom.

Apparently, however, she was a lot sneakier than he had anticipated her to be. For seven years, Minerva McGonagall led a rather boring life. Using a clever disguise, she would visit Diagon Alley and pick up books every single day. Other than that, she would stay in her little hut just a small distance away from Hogsmeade.

The stories of her simple, everyday life were so tiresome that he began to toy with the notion of paying her a social visit and ending the monotony for her. Those plans were stymied, however, when she disappeared.

Without a trace.

Needless to say, he was enraged by the news and the spy that had been following her never got to see sunrise again.

What angered him even more was the fact that his Death Eaters had not been thorough enough when they were rounding up Dumbledore and Potter's supporters. And now Minerva had become some sort of a ringleader for them.

A month and a half ago, he had received news about a ploy by the reestablished Order of the Phoenix to free his little Mudblood. He had wanted Granger well out of the way when he took care of them, but the “rescue” never occurred and all hints of their activities vanished.

She suddenly looked towards him, her eyes filled with sadness and confusion. She was lost and she did not know how to find her way out of the labyrinth.

The Minotaur’s labyrinth.

It was obvious that they were still out there somewhere, plotting. However, he had to finish some unresolved business before he could concentrate on locating them.

His eyes landed on the man who had been kneeling in front of him for the past hour.

“Rodolphus.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He always chose the members of his inner circle carefully. Rodolphus was an extremely intelligent man, contrary to popular belief. He was perhaps even smarter than Bella, although he preferred to stay in the background. Therefore, Lord Voldemort was hardly surprised when the Death Eater did not even attempt to use Occlumency against him.

“How long have you followed me?”

“Ever since I left Hogwarts, my Lord.”

A faint smile touched his lips before he asked his next question.

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

Rodolphus immediately looked at him.

“My Lord – ”

“Answer me, Rodolphus.”

Voldemort had always known that Rodolphus loved Bella. The man cherished the witch more than she had ever acknowledged. Or perhaps because she simply did not care.

They continued watching one another. She was still in shock.

Yet surprisingly, there were no traces of regret in her eyes.

Nevertheless, it was time for him to choose where his loyalties lay.

“Six, my Lord,” Rodolphus finally answered.

Apparently, he was even more intelligent than Lord Voldemort had previously believed.

A pleased expression appeared on the Dark Lord’s face as he walked up to Rodolphus and placed a hand on his shoulder.

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

“Yes, master.”

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She was a lot thinner, he noticed. Her cheeks had lost their plumpness and, although she was never heavy, she felt lighter than a feather in his arms.

“Bellatrix?” she asked while he healed her injuries. When the last wound was healed, he scrutinized her quietly.

An unspoken praise flashed through his eyes when he noticed how the brightness in her eyes was exactly how he remembered it to be.

“She is no longer your concern,” he answered before he summoned one of the house-elves to bring her a bowl of soup.

She quietly drank the soup after his answer, lost in her thoughts.

A sense of possessiveness washed over him as he watched different emotions run over her features.

She was his.

As she turned over to place the bowl on the bedside table, he suddenly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. The bowl fell down to the floor, shattering into pieces.

She first looked at him in surprise before she questioned him without words.

Her brown eyes … just like chocolates, warming a person after a dementor attack. Or even a cup of coffee in a chilly winter morning …

“You’re mine,” he quietly declared.

She gave him no answer, neither agreed with him nor denied his statement, and simply continued gazing into his eyes.

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He listened to Rodolphus’s reports about Bella halfheartedly.

Bella was obviously outraged with what had happened tonight. There was no doubt in his mind that she would try something again in the near future, but he simply did not have time to monitor her movements.

He would’ve killed her if she was not such an important member of his inner circle.

“Keep an eye on Bella, Rodolphus,” he ordered, contemplating on what the Order was doing at the moment.

Were they getting ready to “save” Granger? Or were they thinking of plans to assassinate him? Perhaps both.

What he really wanted to know was if his little Mudblood would leave with them.

Lord Voldemort could be arrogant, but he was not stupid. He knew that as much as Granger loved him, her pride and stubbornness would dictate her to leave with the Order.

And he had better things to do than to chase after a witch who did not know what was good for her.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Do not fail me,” he warned.

“Yes, master,” Rodolphus replied, bowing even lower onto the floor.

After dismissing the Death Eater with a wave of his hand, he Apparated back to his room. He stood by the bed, watching the peaceful expression on her face as she slept.

Without waking her up, he climbed into the bed and pulled her into his arms. Brushing her bushy locks away, he looked at her face.

No one took away Lord Voldemort’s possessions.

No one.
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Prisms of Darkness