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Two Steps From Hell	By : Ssserpensssotia Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 30375 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No profit is being made. No copyright infringement is intended. Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Here is a new chapter. Fast, no?
This is the first part of the chapter. The second part should be up soon.
Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.
Hope you enjoy it!
Beta: Serpent In Red
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I, Horcrux
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Chapter Five
She looked so brave and valiant with those smart brown eyes of hers.
On one hand, he was pleasantly astonished.
On the other … he was angry.
He had seen every single memory that little girl had; he had felt every single emotion she had felt; her whole personality was packed and delivered to him in a form of a small ball of energy that was now kept in the depths of his mind. And even though he really could not name even one of his real adversaries who was still alive, he still continued maintaining his ridiculously strong Occlumency walls. He was being cautious.
The whole almost-fiasco with the old codger had been a wake-up call. He had dabbled in Arts so dark that even his mind was affected. Not that he was insane.
The old fool—oh, how he hated Dumbledore—expatiated left and right to anyone who would listen that he were insane. That he, Lord Voldemort, was crazy.
The nerve …
As if splitting one's soul could have any impact on one's rational mind.
Pathetic. Who cared about soul's next great adventure if one could live forever?
Dumbledore, apparently, as Voldemort really could not come up with another reason as to why Dumbledore hadn't made a Horcrux. Just to gain time, for example. Dumbledore could have prolonged his existence marginally, if only he had created one tiny Horcrux. If the old fool was so dead-bent on his mission to destroy him, then why did he leave everything at the hands of three children and one two-faced traitor? Severus should be grateful that he had already killed him. Had Severus been alive …
Traitors aside, those three children were left—alone—to deal with Dumbledore's perfectly planned quest.
Voldemort believed if he wanted something done right, he had to do it himself. And how right he was—look where Dumbledore's faith in others brought him.
Not that Voldemort complained.
And those children had almost succeeded, had it not been for the same good fortune—just on his side now.
Had it not been for the girl …
The Mudblood whose memories he absorbed, the little Mudblood that he had kept alive just because he saw promise in her. He was very curious.
The very same girl that was now standing in front of the mirror, frozen to the spot, staring at him in their reflections. He wondered how long she'd be able to hold his gaze without the mirror acting as a medium. He'd find out soon.
The Mudblood seemed to come out of her stupor, as her hands shot up and her small palms quickly covered her breasts.
Silly, little girl. So innocent, so naïve…
He would have killed her. He honestly would have killed her now, had it not been for her whole personality which image was now stored deep in his mind. He had extracted it while she slept, pulled it in by the thin cord that connected their minds; he took it all. And he saw promise in her.
She was standing here now, before his eyes, covering her small breasts and thinking that he might force her …
He almost laughed out loud. How utterly ridiculous.
Such a little, naïve girl…
xxx
"Miss Granger, I assure you, your chastity is safe with me," Voldemort whispered quietly into Hermione's ear.
She flinched at the use of Parseltongue and the close proximity, and she shuddered internally at the offhand reminder that her thoughts were not as private as she would have liked.
"Stay out of my head," she managed to whisper back, not comprehending the unintentional use of the language of snakes. Only after finishing the sentence did Hermione notice the underlying hissing quality her voice had gained as well and the way her lips barely moved while talking.
Voldemort's amused hiss made her shiver harder.
"I suggest you get dressed, Miss Granger. We don't want you to endanger your health, do we?" The Dark Lord's mocking smirk made Hermione turn around and look him in the face. She had to tilt her head back because the difference in heights was bigger than she had initially expected.
"Why are you doing this?!" Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor for a reason.
"Miss Granger, it would do you well to remember that I do not have a habit of repeating myself." Voldemort's red eyes were now staring directly into hers and Hermione saw a promise of pain in them.
He then tilted his head to the right and looked at her through squinted eyes.
"However, considering the recent—" Here, he paused and clicked his tongue. "—events, I will allow you some lenience," Voldemort continued without paying attention to Hermione's widened, surprised eyes.
Before she had a chance to say a word, Voldemort continued, his tone now had a dangerously warning note. "Within boundaries and only today."
Then, the Dark Lord turned around and went to leave the bathroom. He stopped on the threshold and beckoned Hermione with a fluent hand movement.
"Come, Miss Granger, we have a lot to talk about and not much time. Get dressed and join me in the room." And with that, he left.
xxx
It was hard to gather her courage and step out of the bathroom, but she wanted answers, and she needed to know what had happened while she was asleep. Hermione was afraid of what she might hear, but she had to. And she could not and would not be hiding in the toilet like some spineless coward.
Better get it done and over with.
xxx
The Dark Lord was sitting in a comfortable chair near the now lit fireplace, leaning back and placing his arms on each armrest.
He was very calm and even relaxed, Hermione noticed when she came closer. His posture was very elegant but deadly, like a snake relaxing in the sun before effortlessly attacking its unsuspecting prey.
She didn't know what she was supposed to do.
"Take a seat, Miss Granger." A polite offer if one ignored the tone that left no room for argument.
Hermione lowered herself tentatively into the chair opposite of Voldemort.
She had so many questions, but Hermione thought that voicing them would result in some long and painful torture. She knew nothing about the man and it was making her uncomfortable. So far, he had acted completely opposite to what she had expected.
Feeling those chilling eyes on her, Hermione licked her lips and composed herself.
"Would you like some tea, Miss Granger?"
Was he serious?
If he had heard her thoughts, he didn't show it.
"Dinner, perhaps?" He was mocking her, she had no doubt.
An impatient sigh escaped Lord Voldemort as he observed her with a pensive expression on his face.
If one can call it a face, Hermione thought in disgust as she looked over his pale, almost white visage with no nose and fierce, burning red eyes that had lost their previous amusement.
Oh … crap!
"I don't care how much you hate me, Miss Granger. Nor do I care how you see me," Voldemort started slowly, his voice chilly and indifferent. "But you will respect me, little girl. Make no mistake."
"I'm not a little girl!" Hermione spat before she could control herself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Slowly, Lord Voldemort rose and took a step forward. Now, he was standing directly in front of her and Hermione braced herself.
She had expected a Cruciatus maybe, or some other sort of punishment, for Voldemort was anything but forgiving, so she was surprised greatly when his cold index and middle fingers pushed her chin upwards, tilting her head back and meeting her gaze.
"I think we started on the wrong page, Miss Granger," Voldemort whispered after watching her face for a few seconds. "I believe that proper introductions are in order. For I simply cannot fathom as to why you would try to purposely anger a Dark Lord."
He talked quietly, his words a mere whisper, but it made Hermione's attention peak up even more. His previously missing aura was now back and Hermione shivered while being in such a close proximity.
Luckily, that blasted Horcrux had kept quiet and Hermione didn't have to suffer from its onslaught like she did back then, at the dream station. Hermione still didn't know where they had been and now was not the time to think about it.
She had a Dark Lord to deal with.
"I am well aware of who you are, thank you," Hermione answered politely but with a spike of venom in her voice.
He must have caught it as well, as his fingers were now bruising her jaw, their hold strong and painfully tight.
"I am afraid here lies the problem, Miss Granger." Voldemort tilted her head to the right with his fingers and then to the left, as if examining her. Letting go of her chin, he moved towards the fireplace with his back facing her.
"You. Know. Nothing," he pronounced each word slowly and clearly, as if he was talking to a retarded, slow on the uptake child.
Hermione had heard Professor Snape use such tone quite often, but luckily, never on her.
It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Hermione was used to being treated as a smart individual, in the Muggle and Wizarding world alike. "The brightest witch of their age" was her most treasured praise.
She certainly didn't appreciate being treated as a dimwit.
"Where is Harry?" Hermione demanded through clenched teeth, trying her best not to lose her temper.
She could survive one torture curse and it looked like Voldemort wasn't planning on killing her, at least not yet. She wanted answers.
Voldemort rocked on his heels for a second before turning around. He looked at her with a strange expression and Hermione wished she could feel his emotions now, as it would help her understand how to behave.
"Put your cloak on, "Voldemort simply told her while he wandlessly levitated her new robe to the chair she was still sitting on.
"Why?"
Hermione's breath hitched as she saw his eyes blaze with barely restrained inner rage.
Quietly, she put the cloak on—No need to infuriate him further—and stood awkwardly near the chair she had occupied earlier.
"I feel that somehow you managed to get a wrong picture of this situation and I find myself indebted—" He paused before moving closer to her. "—to correct your false notion that you know who you are talking to."
Hermione's face must have shown her disbelief at his words as Voldemort swiftly grabbed her hand and Apparated them away.
Xxx
Hermione was always wary of Apparition, especially Side-along Apparition, as it had always been slightly unpleasant. It had always felt like she had been sucked into a tight tube before traveling at an enormous speed, only to be spat out with an upset stomach.
This time, however, it had been different. She felt Voldemort's magic stretch around them and then she was flowing. She had no time to explore the feeling closer as the next second she found herself standing on firm ground. She had to admit that this had been her most pleasant Apparating experience, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth knowing who was responsible for it.
Voldemort was standing near Hermione and she had to admit he looked as powerful as she would imagine a Dark Lord to be. Evilness aside, he was a wizard of great power, Hermione had to concede internally. Not that she would say something like this to his face. It was hard enough to control herself when his eyes were constantly studying her like a bug under a microscope.
Speaking of those eyes …
With a mixture of contempt and uneasiness on her face, Hermione watched him observe her, his now dark red eyes glinting in the moonlight, making them look even more inhuman that before.
Suddenly, he waved his hand and Hermione saw the barrier around them disappear. She hadn't even noticed it before!
With astonished eyes, Hermione looked around, wanting to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
They were standing in the middle of Piccadilly Circus and Hermione just could not understand what Voldemort—who hated Muggles and everything related to them—had forgotten here, in the middle of Muggle London.
The place was crowded, like every other evening and Hermione had an insane—but so hilarious—thought that maybe Voldemort messed up with coordinates. If he wanted the first impression of who he was to be like this, who was Hermione to argue?
Her internal sniggering was brought to a brutal halt as her neck was captured in an iron grip and she was forced to look Voldemort directly in the face.
"You should thank your lucky stars that I promised myself to be lenient with you this evening. Not only are you a rude, little Mudblood, but you also have no sense of self-preservation. Today, I hope you will learn your lesson. If not, I will be repeating this lesson over and over again until you finally get it through your thick head that I am not your friend, nor I am like anyone you have ever known," Voldemort whispered ominously, his hand still clasping her neck, not letting go even a bit.
Hermione was too petrified to come back with a witty remark—or any response at that matter—as she could see that he was not joking. All his previous humor was now completely gone.
She was now genuinely afraid.
"I would hope, for your sake, that you learn quickly. However, if you ever need a repeated performance, I will be happy to assist you, Miss Granger."
With that, he took a step back and Hermione saw his bone-white wand slip into his hand.
"What do you see, Miss Granger?" Voldemort asked while expertly twirling his wand with one finger on the handle.
How does he do it? Hermione was too curious for her own good and she knew it.
"Answer me!" he suddenly barked.
Suppressing a violent shudder that wanted to escape at his tone, Hermione looked around one more time before relying.
"I see people. We are in Piccadilly Circus."
The Dark Lord actually smiled.
"And here our first lesson for today begins, Miss Granger."
He then moved closer to her again and roughly grabbed her by her arm. With his other hand, he clasped his wand tighter.
Hermione started to panic.
Was he going to torture her here, in between the mob of Muggles? His close presence did not alleviate her unease at all.
"When we go back, I expect your behavior to be appropriate," he whispered menacingly into her ear.
"This—" He motioned to the crowds. "—is your first lesson."
Hermione remained silent, a feeling of sick anticipation crawling into her heart.
"I am the Dark Lord, little child," Voldemort started his quiet, disturbingly gentle speech, "and a Dark Lord is not a wizard you'd want to cross. I do not joke around, nor do I make mistakes while Apparating." His voice was so hissing that Hermione wasn't sure if she was hearing Parseltongue or English. Not that she cared much, as her insides were frozen—she had stepped over a line and she knew it. Now, she was waiting for her punishment.
But why here?
Suddenly, the barrier inside her head disappeared, and Hermione almost drowned in the whirlpool of Voldemort's emotions.
Anger.
Excitement.
And … twisted intentions.
With horrified eyes, she saw Voldemort point his wand at the crowds, while still holding her arm in a death grip.
No …
"Watch closely, little girl."
Hermione was sure her heart would jump out of her ribcage; it was beating so fast and so hard.
What kind of Dark Magic was he going to use on the crowd? What kinds of forbidden spells?
"You don't have to do it," Hermione said breathlessly, knowing that every second mattered, "I understand."
"No, I don't have to," Voldemort said quietly, almost pensively.
Hermione's lungs opened, welcoming the much needed air, as she inhaled sharply. Maybe she could talk him out of it before-
"But I want to."
"Bombarda!"
And then there were screams.
xxx
He had forced her to watch.
Those couple of minutes lasted for an eternity; the only thing holding her up and standing was his death grip on her arm.
She watched the blast—much stronger than she had ever imagined the Bombarda spell could be—hit the crowd.
Hermione didn't know what she had expected from Voldemort, but not this.
He had blasted away a crowd of no less than fifty people with even more injured, all of them scattered around. Horrified.
And he had used a normal blasting spell, the same she had used in her third year!
He had chosen this spell on purpose.
As she watched the blood bath around her, the only thought that hadn't abandoned her tormented mind was once again: It is my fault.
Was she damned?
They were still separated from the Muggles by the flickering barrier, but she could hear the screams so well that she thought her ears would start to bleed too.
"You see, my little Horcrux, it doesn't matter if the spell is Dark or Light. It is all about intention and the power," Voldemort continued his lecturing, his ears deaf to the pained screams of the innocent people he had just blown up.
Through their link, she could feel his satisfaction and twisted amusement. It seemed that killing people brought his previously playful mood back.
"Stop, please, just stop!" Hermione managed to finally make her lips cooperate.
She couldn't watch it anymore. She wanted to leave.
"Are you willing to talk like a civilized adult now, little girl? Or, perhaps, you wish for me to continue?"
Nodding her head so hard that her vision started to swim, Hermione desperately looked into cruel, satisfied red eyes.
"Should I take it as your wish to continue, then?" Voldemort tilted his head to the side and was now openly mocking her.
And there was nothing she could do.
"I understand," Hermione managed to choke out.
The silence between them became unbearable and Hermione finally understood why he wasn't accepting her answer.
"Sir." It hurt her so much to say it, but there were things far worse than her abused pride.
"Bravo, Miss Granger. All it took for you to address me properly was a small, little spell. " His cold voice was dripping with sarcasm as he looked her over with a pleased expression in those bright, red eyes.
And plenty of innocent people—dead, Hermione thought in despair.
"Don't mind them, little girl. They're just Muggles. You don't think about what maggots feel when you chop them up for your Potions assignment, do you? Or you do?"
Hermione tasted blood as she bit her tongue.
Too much blood on her hands already.
I understand, Sir.
Just as quickly as it had disappeared, the mental barrier was back in place, and Hermione felt a now familiar flowing experience.
He was Apparating them back.
xxx

AN/ It's fun writing Voldemort ;) I still hope to keep all characters IN character. Hope you liked it.
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Two Steps From Hell