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The Hogwarts Christmas Orb	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 8467 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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
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Chapter Four

Arguments

She’d never felt so awake, alive and energetic upon waking in the morning. That was the first thing running through her mind. The second was that she apparently was lying on top of a sleeping Lord Voldemort. Hermione blinked. Had she seriously fallen asleep in his arms? Merlin, she needed a head exam, quickly. Though she tried to rise carefully, he still stirred and woke, too.

‘What time is it?’ he asked, looking up at her crouching figure.

‘Don’t know,’ she replied, putting her leg on the floor, ‘but it’s light so I presu—’ she stopped talking when her eyes fell upon a piece of unfamiliar wood. As quick as lightning she was off the couch and squatted down to get it, but her hand went straight through it. She couldn’t touch it.

‘Annoying when that happens, isn’t it?’ his voice stated dryly, while he calmly swung his legs off the couch and sat up.

Thinking rapidly, Hermione looked up, her eyes flickering between him and the wand she seemed unable to touch.

Maybe if I touch him…

Riddle seemed to have come to the same conclusion as her and moved, too. Fast, she reached out, not caring where she caught him as long as she did. He swatted her hand away twice, but eventually, she grabbed a hold of the front of his robes and held on. The wand became solid in her hand, just when his hand enveloped hers. He latched out, fingers curling around her neck.

Stalemate.

They squatted there, nose-to-nose, staring at each other, determined and unmoving.

‘You know this is pointless, right?’ Tom said.

‘How did you get this wand?’ Hermione hissed.

‘I’ve always had it and now you are going to let go off it.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Be sensible. You can’t touch it without touching me. There is no way you’re going to be able to keep it, so let’s not do this.’

‘I have no intention on keeping it.’ I’m going to destroy it.

‘Then I suppose you—’ Riddle said as a distraction. Swiftly letting go off her neck and hand, he used his freedom to push her backwards unexpectedly and smack her hand away from his robes.

‘Eek!’ Hermione yelped when she fell on her behind, clutching to the wand that slipped through her fingers like smoke. She scrambled up, trying to catch him, but he was already out of her reach, standing there smugly. Looking down in irritation, she contemplated her options.

‘You can’t sit there forever, Hermione,’ Tom said smoothly.

She gritted her teeth. She knew that! Crap.

Still, there was no harm in trying if she could magically destroy it. There were plenty of charms to solidify things after all. She pulled out her wand.

‘That’s not going to work,’ he said before she had a chance to cast.

‘You hope,’ she sneered, satisfied when she realised she was hitting right on the mark. ‘Why don’t you try and stop me?’ she tempted, hoping he’d be foolish enough to get within reach again.

‘Nice try, Hermione,’ he replied, winking at her.

It infuriated her beyond belief. How dare he stand there as if there weren’t a single care in the world!

However, Riddle’s hope came true. No matter what she cast, nothing seemed to affect the wand. She went through her entire repertoire of magical knowledge, but the only thing that she destroyed were her floorboards. It was a distinct blow to her pride when she had to admit defeat and had to watch him pocket it in his sleeve. Curious, she glanced sideways as he sat down next to her on the couch. How had he kept that pocket hidden? As if he knew what she was thinking, he held out his arm. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

‘Feel free to examine it,’ he said. ‘It’s clear you want to.’

‘Cocky, are we?’ she replied, taking a hold of the sleeve.

‘It’s not overly confident when one is correct. I’ve used these type of pockets for ages. They’ve stood up to the most intense scrutiny, the strongest wards, and as you may have noticed, your spectacularly wide array of Frisking Charms.’

Hermione frowned, fingering the sleeve. All she noticed was the fabric. She knew a thing or two about magically hidden pockets, but none were able to not show even the faintest hint of it. She folded the fabric double. This should be impossible. He had a wand there. Wands didn’t fold like that.

‘How did you achieve this?’ she asked admiringly.

‘It’s a combination of methods quite similar to your beaded bag and a personally created potion. I could teach you, at a price.’

‘Like what, my firstborn?’ she countered humorously.

He laughed. ‘Nothing that ominously. I simply have some questions I want answered. If you answer me truthfully, I’ll tell you how to create this.’

‘What kind of questions?’ Hermione asked suspiciously.

‘I’ve been in that orb for fifty-three years. Surely, you understand that I’m curious about what happened while I was in there?’

She leaned forwards, her hand under her chin, thinking. ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me the questions first and I’ll think about it.’

‘How unsporting of you.’

She turned to face him. ‘I’m not letting you question me unconditionally over one magically enhanced pocket. You do see how utterly uneven that would be?’ she countered, smiling sardonically.

‘So state your terms.’

‘One question, and they’re only about the past.’

‘Ten, and I get to decide what they’re about.’

‘Not a chance.’

‘Okay, eight, and you can refuse to answer thrice if you don’t like the question.’

‘Make it five—with three refusals—and solely questions about the time you were in that orb.’

‘That leaves me with only two questions answered, dear.’

‘Really, I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Three questions—three options of refusal but I get a new question instead—and they’re only about the past.’

‘Then you’d simply ask me three outrageous questions first and I’ll have to answer the three real ones after those.’

‘Really, I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘This isn’t working out. I’m going to take a shower,’ Hermione decided, getting up and walking away.

‘How are you feeling this morning?’

Startled by the change in subject, Hermione turned around with a bemused expression on her face.

‘I was wondering because you are extraordinarily chipper and awake without having drunk your first coffee.’

Hermione furrowed her brow. She really did feel very awake and energetic, not her normal start-up routine. Then again, she usually didn’t find herself fighting over a wand with Lord Voldemort first thing in the morning. ‘Must be that wonderful exercise routine of yours,’ she joked, turning away.

‘Well, I am magnificent,’ he replied haughtily.

She rolled her eyes while disappearing into her bedroom. She was about to close the door when Riddle said, ‘Final offer: two questions, solely about the past, no refusals. Think about it. I know you’re dying to find out how that pocket works, because once you do, you might be able to figure out how to get into mine.’

‘Ooooh, you are good,’ Hermione said, shaking her head in irritation before she closed the door with a bit more force than necessary.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘No!’

‘Your loss!’ Hermione heard him shout as she entered the bathroom.

She quickly turned on the tap of her shower and let it steam up her bathroom as she brushed her teeth and undressed next. The shower tap was charmed to pick the right temperature befitting her wishes at the time. And today, she really needed a nice hot shower. Quickly stepping under the warm water, she closed her eyes and allowed the water to soak her completely. This felt heavenly. She grabbed the shampoo and washed her hair. Then she grabbed the charmed washcloth and added soap to it. She stretched herself out under the shower, closing her eyes again, while the washcloth did its work on its own. It was times like these when she fully appreciated magic.

When she was done, she stood there for a while before closing the tap. She grabbed a charmed towel that began drying her immediately, while she administered her homemade Hair-Untangling Potion. It wasn’t a miracle potion, but it made sure she could at least comb her hair without a fuss. Ginny and Patty often asked her why she didn’t use Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion instead, but she just couldn’t be bothered. It was too much work to straighten it all out and she had got to appreciate her frizzy curls even when they could be a nightmare on damp or wet days. The towel flew into the hamper after having done its job and Hermione picked up her wand, freezing when her eyes fell on her left arm for the first time. Her scar was gone! How could it be gone?

How are you feeling this morning?

Oh Merlin, he didn’t just have a wand; he was able to perform magic with it, too! Why hadn’t he cast before, and why had he now, and why this?

She caressed the skin that used to feel rough, rigged, slightly warmer than the rest, and which continuously throbbed. To some extent, she’d got used to it, even though it was a constant presence in the background and there were days when it became exhausting. Actually, it was rather amazing she’d not noticed before that the pain was gone. It really was true that your brain couldn’t store the memory of pain. How fast she’d adapted to not feeling it.

Mesmerised, she checked out her arm. Now her skin felt smooth, similar to the rest of her arm, as if nothing had ever been wrong. How had he done that? There was no cure. She’d seen several specialist curse-breaking Healers, who had all told her the same thing: ‘You’ve just got to learn to live with it’. Their dismissive and condescending nature had been rather infuriating, and she’d jinxed two of the worst of them with a permanent itch so they had something to ‘learn to live with’, too. She whisked her wand. Her clothes appeared around her body and her hairbrush began doing its work as she pushed down her trousers and sat down on the toilet.

Why had he healed her arm? It made no sense. He would’ve been better off hiding his capabilities from her. She’d been convinced he couldn’t do magic because he’d not tried to curse her or anyone else once. And this was no beginner’s spell either. It was highly advanced magic, the kind she was sure he’d always been capable of when he was still a ‘normal human being’. She wondered if his magic was something that had sort of ‘grown back’ or if the ability to do it had always been there. This was troubling. More so because he’d healed her.

Why? She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. He was Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort wasn’t supposed to heal Mudbloods. Sure, they’d stopped constantly attacking each other when they’d realised it was pointless. And they did converse somewhat civilly lately, because when you were continuously in each other’s presence, it was rather impossible to keep up your animosity twenty-four/seven, especially with someone so handsome, charming and disarming. She sighed. He really was a good manipulator. Was that why he’d done it? So she’d lower her guard because he’d healed her? He should’ve known better. She wasn’t that easily fooled. Or maybe he wanted her to know he could perform magic on her as a threat? That actually made more sense to her. Arsehole.

An arsehole you now owe something, her mind added, making her groan. An extraordinarily competent arsehole.

No, she didn’t like it one bit that he was able to perform magic. It put her at a severe disadvantage since her magic wasn’t taking hold on him. Why did his work on her? This was so unfair. What had she ever done to deserve this? She’d always been good, well most of the time, when it mattered, to nice people. So, why couldn’t she— Oh! The idea struck her like a bolt of lightning. She’d been lying on top of him; they’d been touching. As far as she could remember, she’d never tried to— Oh wait, she had. Well, that was disappointing. She’d already seen herself blasting Riddle into oblivion.

Then how come he could harm her?

Wait, she thought slowly.

Wait, wait, wait, she added excitedly as she realised the answer. He hadn’t harmed her. His spell had healed, helped her. So that had to be it. Perhaps she could cast on him if her spells were useful to Riddle. Well, bummer, that was useless.

Helping Lord Voldemort? Over my dead body.

But you owe him, a sing-song voice sang in the back of her mind.

I don’t, she countered stubbornly. I never asked him to do this. I handled myself perfectly fine with that blasted scar. Besides, it’s his fault I got it in the first place.

She rubbed her arm. Now that she had noticed that the pain was gone, she could fully appreciate its disappearance. Was this why she was feeling so much more energetic this morning? It had to be. She’d never been a slow starter at Hogwarts, always up at the crack of dawn.

Sighing, she cleaned herself and got off the loo, washing her hands in the sink. She didn’t look forward to returning to her living room. Undoubtedly, Riddle would realise she had to have seen her lacking scar now, and he was bound to expect some sort of genuflection.

‘In his dreams,’ she muttered, straightening out and walking back into the living room in a brisk pace.

‘Whoa!’ Hermione exclaimed, staring at Riddle with her mouth ajar.

‘What?’ he asked, bemused, frowning when he realised his voice sounded a lot higher.

‘Have you checked yourself in any mirrors lately?’

‘How am I supposed to do that?’ he said, looking at her as if she were an idiot.

Hermione growled, walking towards him and grabbing his arm. She pulled him with her to her standing mirror and whipped out her wand. Before he had the chance to open his mouth about it, her spells impacted on him and the mirror. Then, she quietly stepped back. Slowly, his outline became clear and he gasped, leaning forward to check out his alien, extremely white face up close. He raised his hands, touching his absentee nose and the slit-for-nostrils and his bald skull, muttering, ‘No hair for potions as I’ve always planned.’

Then, he stepped back, swirling left and right in his long black robes to examine himself from every angle. After raising a non-existent eyebrow at the lack of footwear, he patted his even skinnier body before looking at his unnaturally long fingers. Once again, he faced the mirror. His face lit up, and he smiled brightly. This was who he truly was.

‘Enjoying your new look?’

He swirled around enthusiastically. ‘This is me. This is who I am: Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard of all time. Not that disgusting Muggle filth.’

‘Is that why you changed your appearance, so you wouldn’t look like your absent father anymore?’

He whirled on her so fast that she didn’t have time to react before he had her pinned against the breakfast bar. ‘What do you know about that?’ he hissed, his slit-for-nostrils flaring while his snake-like face was almost pressed against hers.

Hermione swallowed, turning quite cold.

‘Tell me,’ he ordered, shaking her.

‘Only what Dumbledore told us.’

Tom sniffed in annoyance. ‘And what did the meddling old coot tell you?’

‘Just that your mother bewitched your father with Amortentia and that he left after she stopped administering it even though she was pregnant with you. And that you searched him out during a summer holiday and killed him and your grandparents. And that he … er … he—’ She bit her lip, pretty sure this wasn’t going to fall well. ‘—he looked precisely like you.’

‘He’s nothing like me,’ Riddle sneered. Hermione winced slightly when his fingernails dug deep into her arms, but she tried to keep her cool as best as possible. ‘He’s a disgusting, useless piece of Muggle filth and don’t you ever dare mention him to me again.’

‘O-okay.’ Those fierce, red eyes’ slit pupils narrowed into thin stripes, but she was done with his intimidation. ‘I won’t mention your father if you keep your Muggle-hating vitriol to yourself. Considering that my parents are Muggles, I would really appreciate that.’

‘I don’t understand how you can be so proud of your inferior blood.’

‘Is that why you removed my scar, so you wouldn’t have to be constantly reminded of my alleged “inferiority”?’ she asked, making quotation marks with her fingers in the air.

His wand pressed in the hollow of her throat in a flash. Hermione let out a laugh. ‘Oh please, if you could’ve cursed me with something serious, you’d have done it yesterday after I’d fallen asleep. So don’t even try and intimidate me, it’s not going to work. I’ve had it up to here with your stupid antics.’

She gave him a firm push, and he stumbled backwards. ‘You dare?’ he hissed, clutching to his wand.

‘Yes, I dare,’ Hermione said angrily, pounding on him. ‘I’ve dared a hell of a lot more than this. You’re so pathetic. For someone with such alleged superior intellect, you surely have some major issues using rational thought processes. Now unless you want to hear me lecture you about Muggle rights and equality for as long as you’re around me, you’d best keep your stupid, idiotic bigotry to yourself. Seriously, that fools like Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy think themselves above others based on nothing is one thing, but I can’t believe that someone with your abilities would buy into that pureblood-Mudblood nonsense when there is zero evidence for it. Zero! And don’t even try one of those silly speeches of yours about stealing their precious magic on me. We both know that’s bull. And even if it weren’t, then tell me, how could a measly Mudblood like me steal magic from such a superior pureblood being? Wouldn’t such an act automatically prove their inferiority?’ she snarled.

Voldemort smirked. ‘So nice to see you finally admitting your superiority to them. You have no idea how nauseating your humility is at times.’

‘Nauseating, me? ME?! You unbelievable—’ Hermione swung her hand at him, but he caught it before it would slap into his face. He then quickly grabbed her other arm that was already in motion to finish the job. ‘—foul, loathsome, evil cockroach!’

Cockroach? he mouthed, simultaneously amused and bewildered as he tried to keep the furiously struggling witch under control.

‘Yes, vermin, now how do you like that comparison? Do you have any idea what it feels like to hear those whispers behind your back? “Go away, Mudblood. You don’t belong here. You’re nothing.” Do you have any idea how much it costs to fight that stupid bigotry every single day even though you’ve got friends that stick up for you? Do you have any idea how much I had to fight that? How much unnecessary pressure that put on me? I was the best student of my year, but every time I got an “O”, I’d hear whispers of favouritism or that I’d cheated. Well, I didn’t need to cheat, unlike those stupid moronic bigots. I’m smart. I’m good at what I do, and I’m sick of this bullshit. So, let go off me right now or I swear to whatever is holy, I will find a way to hurt you so badly, you’d wish you’d stayed inside that blasted orb forever!’ she yelled, angry tears falling from her eyes.

‘Calm down,’ he ordered quietly, tightening his grip on her, but she was beyond herself and only fought him harder.

The distinctive yellow colour of the Soothing Charm impacted on her body. Hermione swayed on her feet, her eyes glazing over; her arms went still. Tom loosened his grip, just holding her enough so she wouldn’t keel over as he quietly observed her, watching her blink several times before coming back to herself. Then he let go and she took a couple of steps back, leaning against the bar. Hermione took a deep breath, staring down at something that wasn’t there.

What the hell? Where did that come from? she thought, confused. ‘I—I—’

‘It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything,’ Tom said softly.

She looked up sharply. ‘I—’ Her eyes flickered over his body in surprise. ‘Your face! Everything! It’s back to how it was before.’

‘Is it?’ he replied, shrugging uncaringly. ‘What were you going to say?’

‘That I wasn’t going to apologise.’

He tilted his head back and let out a full-throated laugh. ‘You apologising, that’ll be the day,’ he said, sniggering.

‘I have nothing to apologise for,’

‘I think we’d better leave it at that or we’ll go another ten rounds before tomorrow. Just tell me, was that all that that Mug— Did Dumbledore tell you anything else about me that I may need to correct?’

‘No,’ Hermione said calmly, knowing that, technically, it wasn’t a lie. Albus Dumbledore had never told her anything personally.

‘I see. The convenient York Notes version à la Albus Dumbledore. How utterly unsurprising.’

Hermione waited expectantly, but there wasn’t anything else coming and she didn’t feel like pressing the matter. She’d enough excitement for one day. She scratched her head uncomfortably.

‘Your reaction when you saw me,’ Tom said.

‘What about it?’

‘You were surprised I’d changed, but not at what I’d changed into.’

‘Oh,’ she uttered, understanding what he meant to ask, ‘it’s what you turn into later in life, when you were much, mucholder,’ she couldn’t help adding that somewhat snidely, giving his fear of death.

‘Really?’ he said, undeterred. ‘How much older?’

‘What am I, a walking Voldemort encyclopaedia? I don’t know. I know you resurrected like this at the end of my fourth year at Hogwarts, but I don’t know how you looked before that.’

‘Resurrected?’

Hermione pressed her lips together, annoyed at herself. She really needed to watch herself around him better. He was excellent at weaselling out tiny titbits of information that all together would complete the biggest jigsaw puzzle around.

‘I don’t recall saying yes to your two questions deal.’

‘You can’t blame me for trying,’ he said with a wink.

‘I’m not. I blame myself for not watching my big mouth before.’ Her stomach growled loudly.

‘I think you should eat something,’ Tom said.

‘Gee, Mr Obvious, thanks for the advice,’ Hermione replied humorously.

‘Anything to help,’ he countered with a dashing smile. ‘Be careful when you walk. The effects of a Soothing Charm diminish slowly; you may still be a bit unsteady on your feet.’

‘I know,’ she replied, walking towards her kitchen with her hand on the breakfast bar for support. As she made herself a sandwich, she suddenly said, ‘Thanks by the way.’

Surprised, Tom looked in her direction. ‘For what?’

‘You know, for removing that scar and for helping me calm down.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Hermione smiled. Of course he wouldn’t say ‘no need’. That just wasn’t in him. ‘Why do you think you changed into an older version of yourself without knowing how you looked? I mean it’s not like changing into clothes that you like. You know their appearance,’ she pondered, turning around and taking a bite of her bacon-and-ham sandwich.

‘I have no idea,’ Tom replied honestly. ‘I didn’t feel myself change, which is quite similar to the way when I think about dressing into something else. So, I don’t think it was something that occurred magically. I’d know if that were the case. Besides, I don’t even understand why I am the way I am now. I was supposed to return fully corporeal out of that orb.’

‘Maybe it’s due to that then, because you didn’t become corporeal.’

‘Hmm… could be,’ he said, pondering.

‘Would that mean you could turn into any shape you had at any age at any given time?’ Hermione added questioningly.

Horrified, Tom stared at her. ‘I do hope not since I don’t fancy turning back into a toddler or worse, but it does sound logical.’

‘And you have no idea what triggered it?’ she asked, covering her full mouth with her hand.

He shrugged.

‘Maybe if you hadn’t screwed around with all those Horcruxes, the orb would’ve resurrected you as you expected.’

‘Maybe it would be wiser for you not to remind me of the destruction of my Horcruxes, considering your involvement.’

Hermione stuck out her tongue.

‘Are you seriously sticking out your tongue at me?’

‘What, nobody ever dared to?’

‘I daresay, no.’

‘Tough.’

‘You’re crazy, Granger.’

‘Takes one to know one.’

They spent the rest of the day talking about various subjects. When Hermione finally went to bed, Tom quietly said, ‘I do know, you know.’

She turned around, her eyebrows raised.

‘What it’s like.’

‘Oh.’ It was all Hermione knew what to say when she realised he was commenting on her outburst from this morning. She just looked at him and that blank expression on his face, waiting for more.

‘Sleep tight, Hermione,’ Tom said, lying down on the couch and turning away from her.

She bit her lip, disappointed. ‘Sleep tight, Tom,’ she finally said.

A calculating glint darted through his black eyes when he heard the bedroom door close behind her. Things had progressed far more favourably for him than he’d expected yesterday. Prolonged physical contact seemed to be the key to his problem, and considering how she’d reacted around him today, his chances of success had most definitely turned for the better. He’d always known compassion was a weakness one could not afford to have. Granger was proving his point quite adequately.
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The Hogwarts Christmas Orb