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Death Row	By : SalazarRaphael Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 9044 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fic.

Chapter List
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The night before his execution they brought him an elaborate final meal. Hermione came, dressed up, and they ate together- a romantic meal for two. After a decadent dessert they stood and Voldemort pulled her into his arms, dancing with her in the living room. She smiled against his shoulder. The perfect evening together. That had been his final wish. He turned her and dipped her before pulling her up and kissing her, “My Hermione,” he whispered.

            “This has been wonderful.”

            “Let’s stay up all night,” he said, lifting her head to look in his eyes, “I have no reason to sleep.” Hermione chose to ignore what that meant, simply leaning up and capturing his lips against hers.

            As they lay in bed later, sated and curled against one another, Voldemort spoke, “I want you there, Hermione. I want your face to be the last thing I see.”

            “I don’t want to watch you die,” she whispered.

            “You can avert your gaze when the time comes,” he caressed her cheek, “please, Hermione? For me?”

            “Very well,” she sighed, “I love you, Voldemort.”

            “I love you too,” he whispered, running his hand through her hair, “I hope you’ll be happy, Hermione.”

            She purposely stayed quiet. They hadn’t gotten married, because he’d told her he didn’t want her to become a target in some way. No one would know the identity of her child’s father. No one except herself and their son or daughter, when they were old enough for her to explain it to them; it would be a secret for the rest of the lives of their family. Whispers about who their father and grandfather was…she shook her head. She didn’t want to look to the future. She wanted her time with him to be focused on the present. “You’re moping,” he said.

            “I…” Hermione looked up at him, “You’re a wonderful man, Voldemort. Perhaps…whatever lies…beyond this plane, you could watch over us?”

            “I will certainly try to,” he said, hugging her, “we’re becoming morose. I want you happy.”

            “You always make me happy,” she smiled as he rolled on top of her and kissed him.

            The sun began to rise and they both sighed. His death was coming up soon enough. They got up, showering together. Then they got dressed and he kissed her goodbye, one final and deep kiss. Hermione went to the staging area where they would be executing him. There was a huge crowd there, but she made her way to the front anyway. She watched as Aurors led him up. Judging from the noose, he would be hanged. The murderous nature of the crowd scared her. Merlin, she hoped they wouldn’t know about her relationship with him. She made eye contact with him and she could see his eyes soften slightly upon gazing at her. Knowing him as well as she did, she could see the affection in his eyes. To anyone else he probably just looked arrogant. She watched, nervous, as they walked him up the scaffold. “Any last words?”

            “You take my magic from me, you put me on death row….and already some of my death eaters are free.” He looked at Harry Potter directly, “It must be nice, being able to kill the man who killed your parents yet not having to actually kill him yourself. I am many things, but a coward has never been one of them. The same can clearly not be said for ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived’. You can kill me, if you wish. But as I’ve said, I have merely shined the light that the Ministry of Magic is corrupt and useless, and that all of you that say you’re so ‘good’ are in fact not good. I’ve always felt that there is never a ‘good’ reason for murder. I hope you all enjoy having blood on your hands. I always found it to be messy.”

            They put the noose around his neck and tightened it. He looked at Hermione and mouthed the words, “I love you.” She could feel her eyes watering, and as they pulled the lever to open the trapdoor she turned her head away.

            The gasps and shouts of, “What’s going on,” grabbed her attention. She looked to see Voldemort floating in the air horizontally, the noose still around his neck and the trapdoor open. She had to agree with the audience. What was going on?

            “Oh, you pathetic mortals. You capture a man whom you could have killed in battle; you force a potion to remove his magic down his throat and imprison him; you then try the man and convict him of murder…oh wait, you didn’t. He admitted his guilt and you sentenced him to death. Congratulation, wizards and witches of England. You have violated the international codes in four different ways. It is not permissible for England to try him in the first place. It is the responsibility of another country, unbiased, to try him. And you are never permitted to remove someone’s magic without their permission.” Hermione couldn’t believe what she saw. She knew Greek mythology. It was a Muse. She had to be six feet tall, and she was breathtaking. Hermione looked past her to see three other women, Muses she assumed, that were holding up Voldemort, their arms stretched up as though they were invisibly holding him Wands were drawn and pointed at the Muse who laughed, “Melpomene does not fear your pathetic use of magic. My sisters, help this man down.” Once he was lowered to the ground a protective bubble was placed around him, “Don’t try to attack him. It will rebound upon you.”

            The Muse turned to Voldemort and entered his mind, “Who here is it that you wish to protect? I can feel your fear that she will be harmed.”

            “Hermione,” he immediately recalled an image of her and Melpomene disconnected from his mind.

            She looked at Hermione, “Come here, Miss Granger.”

            “No!” Harry got between them, “You’re not touching her.”

            “Miss Granger is far more talented at magic than you are, little boy. She poses more of a threat to me than you. And besides, it is her decision. She knows what I am asking.”

            “I told you, Harry,” Hermione said to him, “I know what I’m doing.”

            “He’s evil! He killed my mum and dad!”

            Hermione looked at him. He was nearly 18 years old, and still regurgitating the same little kid line. “You’re a grown man, Harry. If he’s evil simply for what he did to your family, then you should have wanted Snape, Pettigrew, and Dumbledore all murdered. Snape, who told Voldemort about the prophecy in the first place; Pettigrew, who sold your family to gain favor in his eyes; and Dumbledore who never raised a hand to stop Voldemort or help you; you only want him dead. Society gets the villains it creates, Harry. And I know more about him than anyone alive.” She walked around him to Melpomene, who placed her hand on the young woman’s back and guided her to Voldemort. His eyes lit as she entered the bubble and he pulled her into his arms, which the Muses had freed.

            Melpomene looked at the Aurors that were surrounding them. She rolled her eyes. “Delegates from the International Magic Community are arriving shortly. I have taken care of my own responsibility. It really is a shame that we Muses must intrude upon your pathetic affairs. Mortals are so dull.” She looked at Voldemort and Hermione, “Now you two will be coming with me.” The Muses and Hermione and Voldemort vanished.
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Death Row