Serpentine Series | By : HarmonyB Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 12060 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING IN REGARDS TO THE HARRY POTTER FANDOM NOR DO I MAKE MONEY OFF OF THIS STORY. |
After she came to, Harmony was somewhere too dark to see any surroundings. There was only Voldemort's face above as he held her in his arms. At once she was overcome with the desire to send her fist into his proportionately narrow nose or wrap her arms around his neck in a furious hug until he choked. All this time he had been someone he wasn't and was somewhere he never was. Harmony's mind reeled. Voldemort must have noticed her discomfort, for his fingers curled tighter around her back and thighs as though to warn her to keep still. Voices, which she had little care for in that moment, spoke around them in low tones.
Through her whirlwind of emotions, she realized that they were no longer on the boat. The rocking motion was gone and there was the unmistakable rush of grass beneath his footsteps. Her hands rested in her lap and she curled her fingers around the opening to his cloak and tugged to get his attention.
His eyes, which had been concentrating hard on what was before him, eased at her movement. He glanced down and Harmony couldn't suppress the choking sensation when his penetrating blue eyes centered on her. He said nothing. He didn't need to; the corners of his lips curled upward into a teasing smile, and then he looked up again.
Questions boiled Harmony's insides and she knew that no matter what happened she was going to get those questions answered. She has been in the dark for far too long, and it was time she understood all the complexities that has surrounded her life thus far.
Absolutely willing herself to be patient, Harmony took a moment to observe her carrier without hindrance.
She recognized Marek's clothes; they were dark, like any other Death Eaters, and it was strange to now take Marek's head and put Voldemort's there instead. Marek was Voldemort, Voldemort was Marek. Harmony said this several times in her mind until it became somewhat conceivable. Voldemort had let his black hair grow and it was untamed with tresses teasing into his eyes. When she had first met him, he kept his hair tidy, clean-cut, and out of the way. It was as though with the new hair came a new person; he was no longer that perfectionist wizard, but untamed, unruly, uncontrollable.
A fire blazed in her middle with startling attraction to this alarming man.
He had lied his way through her dreams, made her believe he was on the brink of execution, welcomed her sexual advances and then denied them! Why? He was a trickster, a manipulator. He had been playing her all along.
Harmony couldn't stop the groan that escaped her mouth and Voldemort looked down at her in concern. She only stared back at him.
There was a large group of people around them as he carried her along. She couldn't see their faces properly in the shadows of the evening, but she knew they were Death Eaters. And there were so many. Had there been this many while she was on the boat? It seemed now the bodies had doubled into a small army.
They walked up a small incline and gravity pulled her tighter into Voldemort's arms. Out of the corner of her eye, a large shadow loomed and soon filled her line of vision. The outline of the shadow was unmistakable; she could hardly forget that beautiful but ominous architecture that belonged to none other than the Riddle mansion.
He had brought her back to where it all began.
A low female voice spoke out through the silence. "Several more have arrived, my Lord."
"Excellent," he replied in a deeply pleased tone. "How many?"
"Ten or so, my Lord," the woman answered after a pause.
Harmony felt against her when his chest quaked with a chuckle that told her he was exceedingly happy with this news.
"Gather all of them in the foyer and after a short respite we shall commence our journey."
There was a chorus of agreement, and then they entered the Riddle mansion. The moment the heavy door opened, they were met with the buzz of conversation which immediately ceased with Voldemort's appearance. Without stopping, he continued through the foyer into the belly of the mansion. On the wall, Harmony spotted the portrait of Merope Riddle, Voldemort's mother. The woman had dark, lustrous hair and familiar blue eyes.
If Harmony could ask the witch one thing it would be, "Are you proud of your son?"
Her answer would be the million galleon question. After all the monstrosities that he has committed, would love for him remain? A mother's love was supposed to be unconditional and Harmony now understood.
"Remain down here," Voldemort muttered to someone beside them, and with a hint of amusement he said, "I do not expect this to take very long."
They continued on alone. She didn't have to question where he was taking her. Her head rocked back and forth on his shoulder as he took the stairs, and at the top she saw the memorable bedroom at the end of the hallway. The door was open, and as usual, a fire was blazing in the hearth, an inferno waiting to consume them.
Voldemort strolled over the threshold and the door shut behind them. He went over to the large four poster bed and dropped her onto it. Harmony grunted with surprise, but quickly recovered when she grabbed the closest object at hand—a pillow—and commenced to hit him repeatedly.
"What. Is. Going. On?" she said through her teeth, emphasizing each word with a blow from the pillow.
Voldemort let her exert herself, then he snatched the pillow from her and tossed it away. He grasped her arms and pulled her close to his face so he had her undivided attention.
"I told you," he said with an intense gaze, but his smile suggested he expected this kind of reaction from her. "Remember that time we dreamed together in the forest, you told me you didn't want to lie anymore. But me? No, I spoke the truth when I said my lying days were not yet over."
"But for all this time," Harmony replied, "you were never really in any danger. You were practically with me the whole time."
"As Marek."
Harmony squirmed in his hold and he reluctantly released her. She rubbed her brow in thought, desperately trying to connect the dots. "Of course, it makes perfect sense," Harmony had to admit. "You were exceptionally well at dueling at the tournament, and you could have beat me." She looked up at him, "But you didn't, you let me win."
"Which was no easy task, I'll admit," he said, bowing his head slightly. "But it was the right thing to do. You needed the money."
Harmony thought all the way back to when she had first met Marek—correctly, Voldemort. It had been at Snape's home, Spinner's End. He and Mag were there.
"You and Mag stole the Polyjuice potion ingredients."
He nodded.
"For…for Barty, yes?" How could she forget that moment when Voldemort's face had melted down and contorted itself into Barty's after she saved him from Menkar?
He nodded again deeply with a small proud smile on his lips. He was impressed with how well she was catching on.
Harmony covered her face with a hand and shook her head, "I don't understand."
"I'll start from the beginning, shall I?" He raised a dark eyebrow at her.
She dropped her hand from her face and looked up at him pleadingly. Voldemort beckoned her to sit down on the bed and she complied.
"Let's see," he muttered under his breath. "Where did this all start? Oh, yes," he smiled tightly down at her, "at Shell cottage. When you obliterated my memory. Or tried to anyway." He shook his head sadly as though taking pity on a child, something rarely seen on the face of Lord Voldemort. "I was able to stop your Obliviate at the last second, for the most part. It was more powerful than I expected and it knocked me out momentarily. Tsk, you really wanted me gone, didn't you?"
"You had been trying to kill me!" Harmony shouted, jumping up from the bed.
"Kill you?" he replied with a hint of uncertainty.
"I told you the truth because I trusted you, but you only became furious. The way you looked at me, I feared for my life!"
Voldemort stared at her, but then he snorted and laughter filled the room, mocking her.
"I could not kill you if I tried!" he said between chuckles. "Not even the purest rage could make me daft enough to kill my own chosen one. As I have told you before, I was inconsolable with anger, which I had every right to be. You have no reason to whine."
"But the way you jumped at me," she said breathlessly, "you looked as though you wanted nothing more than to smother me to death."
"I did jump at you," he said hesitantly, "but killing you wasn't what I had had in mind." He advert his gaze as dignified as he could, and Harmony saw a blush creep into his cheeks.
She understood and looked down at her hands with a small, "Oh." Silently, she sat back down on the bed.
He cleared his throat and continued, "When I came to, I watched as you ran from Shell cottage. I had a mind to pursue you, but my head was too muddled from your spell. What I needed at that time was a plan. So after I could think clearly, I head to the first place I knew my presence would be needed: here, the Riddle mansion. Any of my family that survived the Battle of Hogwarts was to return here to regroup. More appeared than I had expected, and as it turned out many had ran away like cowards after the Aurors arrived. The first Death Eater I encountered was greeted by my wrath, but the second I pitied enough to use for my plans."
Voldemort sniffed, sticking his nose in the air as though reluctant to continue. "Obviously my original plan of overtaking Hogwarts by force had come too soon, my army too small. So—since I was even more lacking in followers—I thought of a more…subtle approach." Here he smiled mischievously. "As it turned out, your attempt in erasing my memories set up for the perfect plan. Using my own supply of Polyjuice potion, I put Barty Crouch Jr. under my persona and sent him to the village near Shell cottage where he would be found. I used insiders at Menkar to send Barty the rest of the Polyjuice potion taken from Spinner's End. If the world believed I was harmless, then all eyes of the Ministry would be off the real me, who was still working to restore my legion of followers. Think about it, all this time I have been a free man to do all that my work requires."
When he paused Harmony intervened, "So while Barty pretended to be you at Menkar, you pretended to be Marek to protect your true identity."
Voldemort began unraveling the black scarf around his neck which he had used to cover his face as Marek. When it was undone, he handed her the fabric. "This belongs to you, actually."
She accepted it and at once recognized the texture; it had been her face scarf once. She looked up at him in wonder.
"You left it behind," he explained. "It only seemed appropriate that I donned it to hide myself, after you had worn it all that while to hide from me."
"It was to protect myself," she said.
"Yes, well, now that scarf has lived a full life, you should keep it close."
Harmony wrapped it around her neck and his scent wafted to her nose from the fabric.
"Now," Voldemort said, reclaiming her attention, "the dreams were quite fascinating, really. After I had sent Barty on his way, and I had started my search for more followers, I had one other desire and one alone: to find my chosen one. Without my chosen one, I am incomplete and finding you became my priority once again. I wasn't positive on where to start looking. But one night I fell asleep with the longing to possess you and—to my amazement—my mind fled my body and found you. I saw you sleeping on the floor and somehow I knew that what I was witnessing was really happening. My mind was confounded at first to how it was possible. I supposed it was an effect brought forth from the Serpentine charm, something I perhaps overlooked. But then I understood. You made contact with Harry Potter, don't deny it, I felt it. My soul in him had died, but through you I was capable of making contact again. After that moment, I understood that somehow at some time a part of my soul flitted into your being.
"I immediately planned on using this to my advantage. I found myself sleeping more often just to catch a glimpse of you. In our dreams, I asked you where you were, hoping you would reveal your location which would allow me to find you. By this time, Magnus—whom was ordered to treat me like any other Death Eater—accompanied me around while I searched. Hoping you hadn't strayed too far, we stayed at an inn near Shell cottage. Miraculously, you and Severus happened to be at the same inn. I kept this to myself and focused all my attention on trying to convince you to come to me." Here Voldemort paused and Harmony watched as his face became skewed with emotions that seemed both hurt and angry. "I was put off by your reluctance to do as the Serpentine charm implied. I knew you were running from our Death Eaters, but I was sure I could somehow convince you to join them, for my sake. When I figured you were too stubborn to be forced into coming back, I decided that I didn't just want you to come back: I wanted you to want to come back."
For a moment their eyes met, brown to blue.
"So I lied, I made you believe that I was days from death sitting cold and alone in a Menkar cell."
Harmony scoffed and said, "You tried to guilt me into doing what you wanted."
"Hardly," he said, smirking. "You didn't want to be the Death Eater's new leader. What you wanted was me. And yes," he nodded without breaking eye contact, "I used that to my advantage as well."
Harmony looked away, feeling her cheeks grow warm with the truth to his words.
"I waited, silent and stealthy, for you to make your move. Of course, you didn't act until the day of the execution, which was fine." He grinned, "It made for a more dramatic escape with all hell breaking loose among the audience and guards."
"I'm glad at least someone found it amusing," Harmony said darkly, staring at the wall opposite Voldemort. "While I was so distraught over your upcoming death, you were off having a laugh with your new mates."
He leaned in close to her, his close proximity sucking up all the air. Then a cold finger caressed the length of her cheek bone.
"So distraught," he repeated, his voice dripping with pleasure, and he took her chin in his long, pale fingers. "How I've longed to hear those words from you."
She could feel her face go red and she welcomed his cooling touch. But then his fingers dug into her skin and she winced. He leaned forward until his mouth was right in her ear, and he said with a razor sharp tone.
"So how does it feel?" His breath was hot on the side of her face. "How does it feel knowing you've been lied to all this time?If I remember correctly, there should be some kind of fury deep within, kind of like a black hole in the pit of your stomach." He released her chin, but his face remained breathtakingly close. "You had once said that you were falling for me, falling in love. But what about now? What does your love say now?"
She flinched at his words, but she never moved away from him. "No matter how horrible you are, no matter how misguided you actions may be, my feelings for you can never change." Love may not be what he wanted, but it was what he needed, Harmony knew. "We're too closely bonded now for anything else. I'm a part of you, remember?"
His nod was so subtle she could have imagined it. For a moment he stared deep into her as though trying to solve the puzzle to the universe. Then he blinked as though waking from a dream, but this wasn't like before. He no longer had to dream to see her; this was reality.
Voldemort stood up from the bed and observed her silently from above. With a small smile he touched her lips with the tip of his finger and whispered, "You are my only exception."
Their warm and safe illusion was shattered when they heard a gut wrenching crash downstairs. Both of them quickly strode over to the door to check the source of the noise, but something through the window caught Voldemort's eye and he left the door to lean over the sill. Harmony heard him swear under his breath. She ran over to join him and the spectacle made fear course through her veins like lava.
At the opposite end of the mansion, people were gathering in mobs, holding their wands above their heads in obvious protest. Their clothing didn't resemble a Death Eater's, and their shouts confirmed Harmony's belief that these could be nobody else but Aurors. But the sight of them wasn't what made dread contort in her stomach or sweat roll down her neck. Red, orange, yellow, furiousflames flew up into the night sky, engulfing everything in its reach.
Riddle mansion was burning.
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