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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 37648 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- 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.

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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

The things that I know

Nobody told me

The seeds that are sown

They still control me

There's a liar in my head

There's a thief upon my bed

And the strangest thing

Is I cannot get my eyes open

Give me something I can hold

Give me something to believe in

I am frightened for my soul, please, please,

Make love to me, send love through me

Heal me with your crime

The only one who ever knew me

We've wasted so much time…

…so much time.

George Michael, The Strangest Thing.

Chapter six

I'm looking at a dead woman standing. A very dead woman. Healer Nightingale is standing there with some green-and-silver vase and she is offering the damn Portkey to me. And I warned her. I warned her many times when he wasn't in the room. I told the Healer that just because some place seems empty it doesn't mean that it is. I told her. I just can't believe it. I just can't. She is offering me a way out while Lord Voldemort is in the room with us. Of all the bad luck in the world.

Oh yeah, I know he's there even though he has made himself invisible. Really, all that darkness that flows around him is kind of hard to miss. I remember it clearly from that time he came to the monastery, but here, it is even more profound. No one to counter his magic, I guess.

The Healer is now waving with the vase impatiently, urging me to take it. I am able to restrain a snort. He is never, ever going to let me touch that vase. One move in its direction and, no doubt, it won't be there anymore. So I just stare at it. My face set in a blank expression. It's hard to keep my emotions in check right now, because I care about the well-being of the woman who healed me. And all I can hope is that maybe, just maybe, if I don't accept the bloody vase; then, maybe she'll live. Though part of me knows it's a long shot, but I also realise that if I don't accept the Portkey, it will arouse curiosity as too why not. Maybe that will just be enough to draw his attention away from the gullible Healer. And it is Florence's only chance, so I shake my head.

'Keep it,' I say hoarse.

And I lean back in my pillow wondering whether Voldemort will reveal his presence in the room now. Healer Nightingale drops her arm that's holding on to the vase and looks at me astonished. I'm afraid she is about to make a comment about this, so I turn away from her. Please, someone make certain, she does not add something else to the list to piss off the Dark Lord. So I pretend not to notice her presence anymore. Her mouth is standing ajar and she is gasping like a fish on land, but she turns and walks away.

I can barely hold in a sigh. It's when I realise my mind is wandering again. I need to focus. He is in the room. So I close my eyes, cross my legs and I fold my hands into each other to be able to concentrate. It doesn't take me a lot of time to regain the peaceful thoughts again that Yoda has learnt me. And I visualise a beautiful sandy beach. The waves are striking the shore in an ever repeating pattern, wave after wave after wave. It's quite lovely, peaceful and visualising it always makes me feel incredibly happy.

After a while, when I'm certain I've regained my ability to hide my mind behind the waves, I start contemplating on my options and everything that has happened. If it wasn't for the Knights I would never have been able to do this, but their ways of using the Force of Nature to share once thoughts, feelings and emotions can be used equally to hide them. I realised this six months ago, when I was in a tricky situation in Sidney with this very curious and inquisitive wizard who tried to use Leglimency on me. And I figured it might come in handy to be able to do this more consciously.

So I practised this form of Occlumency over and over again, because I would never be able to do the other one. To let go of all feeling and emotions, until you are without them… You have to be a robot to be able to do that. I've got to admit though, I wasn't exactly having Lord Voldemort as an opponent in mind when I practised this, and I doubt that I'll be able to hold it up if he becomes aware of what I'm doing, but as long as he is so blissfully ignorant of my actions, I have my mind to myself. And I am able to keep thinking underneath the layer of the National Geographic Channel. Voldemort must be going mental having to witness all those beautiful and delightful sceneries of nature. I can't help but wonder how long his patience with it is going to last.

And I am thinking about the route we took on arriving in this very room, trying to remember if there is some weak spot in it. I recall him carrying me through the Headmaster's Office towards the back, where he opened this doorway that lay hidden behind a painting. Upon crossing the passage there is this small corridor that leads to a huge living room chamber. It has large windows, which may suit me in a possible escape attempt. But I don't remember how I got from that room into this one. I must have blacked out for a moment.

Too bad I can only tell if he is in this room and not whether he is actually elsewhere in Hogwarts. I can try using my skills at the Force of Nature, but that will be extremely risky to do if he's in the vicinity. I will only try that kind of magic, if I'm certain he's left the building. But how am I going to be able to find that out, if I can't use the Force before being absolutely sure he has left?

I am relentlessly contemplating on my worries and woes, when they are gently wiped away, leaving nothing else but this incredibly relaxing feeling. I would prefer this rather strange happiness over those annoying concerns everyday.

'Much better,' I think, before my mind goes numbingly blank. And I feel incredibly fine, wonderful, when there is no need to think, like I am floating, dreaming…

'Come to me.'

That certainly sounds like a good idea, but where to go?

'Come… I am right here… look.'

Oh, yes. I see him now. He is sitting in that chair over there. I better get up, then.

And I get out of bed. I can barely stand and I almost fall, but I grab a hold of the windowsill and stay upright. I stare outside. It's a beautiful day and everybody is happy, but now, I am confused. Why did I get up again?

'Walk over here, Hermione.'

Here? Where is that? It sounds important to do, but…

'Come to me…'

Now, I remember. I better be careful and hold on to this wall for support. Otherwise my legs may give away and I will not make it there. And that will be bad, because I really, really want to go to him. And I carefully stumble over there, while he is watching me, waiting patiently for me to arrive beside him, because I am still following the wall his chair is positioned against. He holds out his hand when I am nearly there and I take it.

'Sit down.'

And so I land on his lap. I am completely out of breath from walking that tiny distance, but I still feel so proud that I made it. His arms are around my waist and he is pulling me close. I lean against him, knowing that I have never been this happy before, nor will I ever be this happy again. Being in his arms is the ultimate bliss.

'You want to stay here, don't you, Hermione?'

Of course, I want to stay. What kind of a stupid question is that? I've never felt this lovely before. And as he moves my hair to the side, his breath brushes my neck. That's a nice feeling. He kisses me there. Even better.

'Tell me you want this, Hermione.'

'Oh, I definitely do.'

And his tongue is trailing the contours of my neckline, while his hands are pulling up my nightgown.

'Say you want me, Hermione.'

'I want you.'

'Good girl.'

His hands are now caressing my bare skin and it is a delightful, breathtaking touch. He uses one arm to hold me around my waist as he, slowly, is moving one hand upwards. He is teasing me with those experienced, long and delicate fingers of his, before he cups my breast.

'Tilt your head backwards.'

And as I comply, he captures my mouth with his, demanding entry. I close my eyes and I obey his command and open my mouth. I feel his tongue inside me as he ravishes my mouth. I feel like I can't breath, but I follow his lead, wanting this titillating state to never end. When he finally releases me, I am out of breath, though still in a daze. A flick of his wrist and his wand is there and with a fluid motion I am made to turn around. He positions my legs on either side of his body and smirks at me, while he follows the lines of my face with his wand.

'The things I can make you do, Miss Granger.'

Another smirk. But it doesn't bother me. I feel fine. I blankly stare back into his crimson eyes as he traces the curves of my body with his wand. Another flick; and my nightgown is gone.

'Do you like me to make you, Hermione?'

'Sure, whatever.'

'You will remember this, darling.'

'So what? That doesn't bother me. I am happy. I like being here.'

'The Imperius Curse does not Obliviate your memory of actions you've engaged in, while under its spell.'

'Oh, so that's why I feel so dreamy. I hadn't recognised it. Not that I care, right now. It's such a wonderful feeling. And I wish he would stop chatting and do what he did before.'

'I can lift it, if you want me too.'

'Now, why would I want that?'

'Kiss me.'

'Finally, a good idea.'

When I wake up the next morning I feel dreadful, broken, like I've been run over by a freight train. My muscles have never before been this sore. What the hell? Did that Transfiguration Syndrome return to strike back at me? I thought Nightingale said I was getting better, but this certainly doesn't feel like it.

It is when I remember, and my breath stays stuck in my throat. Oh, Merlin… what have I done? I suddenly feel incredibly nauseated and I hang outside the bed to throw up. I can't believe this. I just can't. I need to shower, now. And I stagger out of bed to the adjoining bathroom. As I stand underneath the nice, cleansing, warm water my mind keeps telling me it wasn't my fault.

But I liked it. I remember that part clearly.

'You were under the Imperius Curse. You had no choice but to like it,' my sensible part reminds me.

'You would have liked it anyway; he was very good,' my emotional part nags.

I was under the Imperius Curse. I had no choice. I tell myself again.

'But you did,' that little, nagging voice in the back of my head tauntingly says. 'He told you he'd Imperiused you, and he asked, remember.'

'I can lift it, if you want me too.'

But I cast the thought aside after a moment of consideration. I was under the Imperius Curse when I replied to that question. He dictated my answer. I snort. I need to stop doing this. This has to be what he is aiming for as a result. I can't let him win. He isn't going to tear me apart with his manipulative ways. I am not some pureblood who has only lived in the rather ancient wizarding world and hides in shame after something like this, because she doesn't know any better. I am a Muggle-born. I have watched a lot of television and for once that comes in handy. Because I know perfectly well this wasn't my doing. It was his. And he can bloody well drop dead first, before I will fall into his little, disgusting scheme here.

I can feel my anger and hatred is overtaking me, so I sit down on the bathroom floor and start meditating. Because I remember what Yoda taught me, and I can't afford to fall in this place. He will win if I do. It doesn't take me long to feel peaceful again, and I get out from underneath the shower and put on my pyjama.

When I get back into the bedroom Healer Nightingale is waving her wand around and my vomit is gone. I'm pleased she is the one who found that, because it shows I was weak, and I'll refuse to act in that manner if he decides to grace me with his presence again. Prick. I swear that, even if it is the last thing that I'll ever do, I am going to bring that man down; sooner or later; one way or the other, he is going down.

'Peaceful thoughts, Hermione,' I remind myself, 'peaceful thoughts.'

I sway back to the bed somewhat exhausted from my extended shower, and I climb in, noticing Florence is staring at me intensely. I wish that woman will get a hobby and stop idolising me. I have no idea how Harry coped all those years, but it is annoying to be under so much scrutiny. However, miraculously, she is still alive, despite her mishap yesterday. And she looks all right, like nothing bad has happened to her. But miracles put aside, today can still turn out to be judgement day for the Healer.

'Are you all right?' she asks me.

'Fine,' I abruptly say.

'You don't look fine to me,' Florence replies in her Healer tone of voice. 'What happened?'

'Rough night. I see, you're still in one piece,' I say bemused.

'Sure, why wouldn't I be?' Florence asks, surprised.

I sigh. How thick can one get, really.

'Well, I doubt it is good for your health to offer prisoners the means to escape this wonderful facility,' I sarcastically respond, and I wave my arm around in general.

'I had a way out. I'm surprised you did not take the Portkey, though. Are you planning something?' she asks and her eyes widen in excitement. 'I can help, you know.'

Oh, Merlin… She thinks I did not take the Portkey, because I have something up my sleeve. And now, I am stuck with probably the only Healer in the galaxy that wants to be a fighter for the Light. Why do I never meet normal people? I bit my lip when I see she is still staring at me hopefully. She can't possibly have any idea what she is doing, what she is offering. She'll be dead before dawn with her strange and reckless concepts of resistance.

'I don't need any help,' I reply.

And I realise it sounds a bit too harsh and too arrogant, when I hear the words exit my mouth. But I really don't want to worry about her as well. I have enough on my plate as it is. Besides, Voldemort may wait till I am fully recovered, before disposing of her.

'So you are planning something. You have some way to strike at…' And she nervously looks around, before whispering: 'You-Know-Who.'

Nightingale is looking at me intensely, with glee spread all over her features.

'No,' I say, but she doesn't believe me. I can see it in her eyes. I lean forward a bit to change the angle of the pillows behind my back. Florence has them in her hands before I can tell her it's not necessary.

'You look horrific, Hermione. And I can tell you're hurt. You didn't move about this careful and clumsy the other day.'

I sigh. She is persistent. I'll grant her that. 'I am fine, Florence,' I insist.

'No, you're not,' she suddenly says brisk, like I am insulting her by suggestion it. 'I am a Healer, Hermione. I know when people are hurt. What happened?' she demands. 'I need you to tell me, so I can heal you.'

'I am a prisoner here, Florence. Surely, you weren't expecting me to remain in one piece.'

I am getting a bit irritated by her demanding tone. And I feel ashamed I am actually annoyed by the woman who already did so much to help me. I am about to apologise when she pulls away the sheets and starts examining my body.

'Don't you think you could ask someone, before removing their clothing?' I say shocked at her behaviour.

'I knew you were injured. Look at this,' she says commanding, and she points toward one of the bruises.

I raise an eyebrow at her. Has she gone mental? But she waves her wand around and the bruises and wounds disappear. She is good.

'Anything else you're trying to hide from me?' she asks abruptly, while lifting up my arm to check.

'You are the one who should be doing the hiding,' I reply, shaking my head.

I'm getting angry with her total disregard of my privacy and I wish she will just bugger off. She casts my pyjamas back on and takes a step back, while gazing at me.

'You're certain you're fine?' she asks disbelievingly.

I can tell she is angry with me for not confiding in her. 'Yes,' I blatantly lie. 'You should be more concerned about yourself and your loved ones, Florence,' I add.

'Really, why?' The Healer folds her arms over each other and stares at me.

'Because you were handing me a Portkey while Voldemort was in the room,' I repeat forcefully.

The Healer sighs and turns around. 'There was nobody here, but us. I don't…'

'Just because you can't see someone doesn't mean they're not there. Or did you skip all the Charms lessons in Hogwarts? Surely, you must remember the brief mention of Invisibility Charms and Invisibility Devices,' I rant sarcastically, knowing full well that subject is significant part of all N.E.W.T. Charms lessons, which a Healer is obliged to follow.

She snorts at me. She actually snorts at me. God, that woman is aggravating.

'So you were just speculating that he might have been there. There is no way you could have known that for certain. Invisibility Charms and Devices are undetectable,' she haughtily states.

'Really, are they?' I reply mockingly.

'You know perfectly well they are,' Nightingale says, and she turns and starts to walk away from me, like the discussion is over, like she has won.

'They may be, but Voldemort isn't,' I angrily say.

She halts abruptly and slowly turns around. 'You can tell if he is in the room?' she asks disbelievingly and she eyes me intently.

'I already told you that before,' I say furiously. 'Really, how many times must I repeat myself? Yes, I can tell. It's bloody hard to miss and just…'

But I halt my furious rant when I see the satisfied expression upon the Healer's face. She is actually smirking at me. I have never before, seen Florence smirk… Oh bugger … I can't believe I fell for that old trick in the book. I can just ram myself in the head for this.

'I see you finally realise who you've been conversing with, Hermione,' Voldemort smoothly says, and he moves the Healer's wand around, transfiguring her features back to his own.

He must have suppressed his magic to go unnoticed by me. And now, I've given him very vital information about an ability, that would have been far more useful to me, had he not been aware of it. He twirls Florence's wand around victoriously. And a vicious smile creeps upon his features when he sees me stare at it.

'Oh, I am afraid you were quite right. It is not good for ones health to offer Portkeys to my possessions,' he mocks.

I ignore the fact that he just called me one of his possessions and I remain silent, waiting for him to make the first move. I've already done enough damage today by chattering my mouth off. There is no need to add something else to the list of one-hundred-and-one dumb things to do while being imprisoned by the Dark Lord. His gaze falls upon me and I blankly stare back into his crimson eyes. This really is uncomfortable to say the least, but I'm able to hold my ground and not back off. He smirks again as he slowly glides towards me. And he talks while his penetrating gaze remains fixed upon me.

'Though, I suppose, I should thank Nightingale for her kind assistance. If it wasn't for her foolish actions, I may not have been made aware of your interesting capabilities just yet. Care to inform me where you learnt that?'

I remain silent.

'No?' he amusedly says, like he has been expecting this response. 'Good … I actually prefer to obtain the information this way, Hermione.'

If he is trying to make me feel uneasy and frightened, then, it is working. He has positioned himself on the bed only inches away from me, and he pushes Florence's wand in my ribcage. I look away, but he cups my head with his other hand and lifts my chin up to meet his eyes.

'Look at me, Hermione,' he whispers.

And I know what is going to happen, before he cast the spell.

'Leglimency.'

…I walk along this beautiful sandy beach. The waves strike the shore and …

…I walk along this lovely green forest. It's filled with all kinds of wonderful…

…I am sitting in this flowing meadow. The sun is shining and I feel quite happy to be in such a delightful place…

…I am on this bridge, leaning against the railing, while the delicate stream below me flows across…

And it is over. He is out of my mind. I'm gasping for breath, my head is hurting severely, while I am perspiring effusively and I can't seem to stop my hands from trembling. This is an utterly dreadful experience. I hope it will never happen again. And I know what I have subconsciously done. I did not trigger those images purposely. Somehow, they just came afloat first. I have no idea how that happened. And Voldemort is not happy. No, not happy will be the understatement of the year, considering how he is eyeing me right now. He looks absolutely furious.

So that makes two dumb things in one row and it is only nine a.m. I'm definitely on a roll today. Maybe I can revise that list.
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The Bittersweet Taste of Victory