Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

You can judge me

If you know me so well

I can't change my spots

And won't brake out of my shell

They will commit me

To a lifetime in hell

But...

I can't remember where my innocence fell

James Blunt, Here we go again.

Chapter seven

Lord Voldemort leans forward in his chair; his left hand is supporting his chin as his elbow is resting neatly on his leg. He watches the clock on the wall somewhat impatiently, which is only noticeable due to the continuous tapping on the chair with the fingers of his right hand. Ten minutes … he has been watching this disgusting, peaceful nature image for ten minutes now. A growl almost leaves his mouth when another wave strikes the beach.

He leans backwards and watches his prisoner, Hermione Granger, again. There is no way this woman's thoughts can be occupied by that scenery for ten minutes. He is certain of that. She has to be hiding something else behind it. But where has she learnt that, and most importantly, how does she know, she has to do that right now? He has made himself very invisible. No one is able to detect him, no one. He is certain of that too. She probably is just doing it to be on the safe side. Yes, it is a precaution. Nothing more.

However, her choice of scenery is irritating to say the least. And again, it reminds him of his past, but they do not take in women. He shakes his head. It annoys him that he keeps considering this; that, somehow, Granger's actions keep reminding him of the Knights. Because he knows she is only doing this to annoy him. He is letting that Mudblood toy with him. And anger flares up inside his chest. That little witch thinks she can outwit him? He should use Leglimency on her right now and see how well she fares then. He snorts at the concept. Gryffindors always make lousy Occlumens. He will breakthrough to her real thoughts in a heartbeat. But Leglimency will make her aware of his presence. Something he is hoping to avoid having to do for some time to come.

Perhaps…

And a vicious smile is spreading across his features. If she wants to play … then, perhaps, he shall accommodate her. With a flick of his wrist, his wand is in his hand. He takes another scrutinising look at Granger. She is well enough to cope this physically, now, isn't she? He can't afford another mishap. Hmmm… perhaps it will be best to wait, or perhaps a little trick on her mind? Voldemort chooses the latter.

'Imperio,' he casts nonverbally.

Finally, that obnoxious scenery is gone.

'Come to me,' he commands smoothly.

And he smirks upon hearing her thoughts that are a clear indication of her lacking ability to counter the Imperius Curse.

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

'Oh, forgot I am still invisible,' Lord Voldemort thinks absentminded, and he swirls his wand around and undoes the Charm. 'Come… I am right here… look,' he states through the curse.

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

Granger gets out of bed, but he notices she is still recovering from her illness when she can hardly maintain a standing position. She is staring outside and her mind has gotten lost of its purpose to be there.

'Why did I get up again?'

'Walk over here, Hermione.'

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

'Come to me…'

And he sees her walk, or rather, stumble over to him. She is holding on to the wall for support. This isn't going to work. She is still too fragile to do anything for real. However, he can still mess with her mind. It won't be the same as the real thing, but it will be fun nevertheless to watch her squirm afterwards. She is nearly there and he holds out his hand to take hers. Her hand feels warm and soft.

'Too delicate,' he thinks, but, in the back of his mind, a nagging voice tells him, he won't break this witch easily.

'Sit down,' Lord Voldemort commands.

She is exhausted. He can tell, because she leans against him, panting. Out of breath from that tiny distance she has walked. And he wraps his arms around her, while her hair brushes his slits for nostrils. He scolds himself for enjoying her scent and starts controlling her feelings, thoughts, emotions and body.

'You're very happy, Hermione. You've never been this happy before, and you will never be this happy again.'

And he waits, until he is certain she has succumbed to that emotion, to that state of bliss.

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

'Of course, I want to stay. What kind of a stupid question is that?'

Good, she is falling right into his trap. And he moves her hair to the side, breathing on her skin. He smiles when he feels the slight shudder go through her, and he decides to kiss her. That won't kill her.

'Tell me you want this, Hermione.'

'Oh, I definitely do.'

Perhaps, he can go a bit further without permanent damage. The Imperius Curse does enable him to override her feeble physical condition. He breathes in her scent again. She does smell delicious and he really wants to taste and touch her. He pulls up her nightgown and starts trailing her neck with his tongue. She is his, after all. The spoils of war. The delightful spoils… Merlin, he is not thinking that about a Mudblood. Especially not about Potter's Mudblood. He is doing this to break her, nothing else.

'Say you want me, Hermione.'

'I want you.'

'Good girl,' he practically purrs.

Sweet Salazar, she does feel so wonderful in his arms, at his mercy. He closes his eyes to enjoy the way her skin crawls underneath his touch. His, he will make this witch his. And the thought arouses him severely. She will beg. He will make her beg and then he will take her…

No, damned. No. She is nobody. He is Lord Voldemort and she is a measly girl. He growls. He has been reminiscing about Granger for too many years. Now that he has her, all that will be required to do is break and dispose of her. And he takes a hold of her breast and squeezes it.

'Nice,' he thinks, and his instincts take over.

'Tilt your head backwards,' Lord Voldemort commands.

She is so delightful in her submission as she leans her head backwards at his command. He captures her mouth and forces her to open it, entering her mouth with his tongue and exploring every part of hers with it by tasting and sucking on her. Her response is delicious and they match perfectly. She lets him lead while supplying him with appropriate pressure. She really is wonderful and he wants to devour her completely. She needs to turn; he needs her to turn around, now. And he pulls back, gasping for breath, enjoying the fact that she does the same. A quick spell and he swirls her around, making her face him, positioning her legs on either side of his body. He pulls her close and makes her tilt her head upwards so he can look straight into those deer brown orbs of hers. They stare back at him blankly, unfazed, while he smirks at her and follows the lines of her face with his wand.

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

The thought excites him a lot. And Lord Voldemort smirks again at envisioning what he can do to her. He traces the curves of her body with his wand. Beautiful, but that nightgown is a huge pain. And he decides to get rid of it. Much better. Such a wonderful, clever, little witch, this one, but it is time to screw around with her mind. It will be so lovely to visit her in the morning after this. She will stop her foolish resistance, immediately. They always do. It's not the first time he has broken someone and it won't be the last. His wand is keeping track of her, while he starts his actions.

'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. I wish he would stop chatting and do what he did before.'

He grins when that last thought hits his mind. That one was her owns. He did not dictate that one. Perfect. 'I can lift it, if you want me too,' he deviously adds.

'Now, why would I want that?'

'Kiss me.'

'Finally, a good idea.'

He snorts in triumph when he hears her last response. 'Gryffindors…' he thinks amused, when he feels her mouth on his and her tongue inside of him. Yes, he most definitely prefers women from the Lion's House. Nice and aggressive, brave and honourable, loyal to the core and feisty.

Most people assume he will prefer Slytherins. And well, he does love his own House; there is no denying that, but the women… And he rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Sure, they are useful in other areas. His society does require more Slytherin offspring and they make excellent Death Eaters if properly trained, but Slytherin women make lousy lovers. They are all inapt with the same curse that planted them in his House to begin with. They are always more interested in their own pleasure. It is never about giving and always about taking. Well, he had shown a few of them that he had other ideas in that area, when he was still a Hogwarts' student. But he has never taken a Slytherin, ever again, after leaving Hogwarts. Surely, sharing a Common Room for seven years with them is more than enough to last him a lifetime, even if he is to live forever.

He moans as Granger is moving her hands over his body where he desires her to caress him. Yes, definitely Gryffindors. Ravenclaw women are too distant, too brainy, too logical and sensible. Always over thinking ever detail, never letting themselves go and feel. And Hufflepuffers are too gently, too kind, and too accommodating to be interesting. That is so annoying when you want to do something and …

'Ooh, God, woman, you're killing me,' he groans inside of Hermione's mouth as her hand moves underneath his robes.

Too blazes with careful. She'll live. And his hands roam over her naked body. Caressing her where he pleases. His, she is his. He feels her shiver in response to his touch and it arouses him that he bruises and leaves marks on her.

'Mine,' he thinks as his hand moves between her legs, stroking and teasing her first, before his fingers enter her where she is most vulnerable. Good, she is ready.

They never make it to the bed as he casts his own clothes away and lifts her up to ride him. Her head drops backwards and her wild, frizzy curls dance around with their movement. He guides her to do his bidding, helping her move when she becomes breathless. She is beautiful in her own way, this little Mudblood of his, stunningly beautiful. He will enjoy breaking this clever witch a lot. And while they climax simultaneously, he realises that he most definitely prefers Gryffindor women, most definitely.

Satisfied, he looks down at the woman in his arms. How beautiful she lies there, still sprawled up in his lap, her head resting on his chest as she sleeps. She really isn't well, yet. He shouldn't have… It annoys him that he lost control like that. He never loses focus of his objectives, never.

However, he will still enjoy her defeat in the morning when she becomes aware of what she has done. Voldemort smirks down on her and decides to put her in bed. No need for him to keep this seat here if she is out cold. He casually flicks his wrist, but his wand does not appear. A chilling cold washes over him. He didn't!

It's when he sees it. The Elder Wand is lying beside his chair on the floor. Lord Voldemort dropped it. He had, actually, lost all control and dropped it. When did this happen? Had he gone mental? He never before stopped thinking while engaging in pleasurable activities, and she is a bloody enemy. Desperately, he tries to remember the last time it was still in his hands. He cast his clothes off with it, of that much he is certain, but after that, it is all a blur. He doesn't even remember dropping it! He needs to know. Lord Voldemort needs to figure out exactly when he lifted the Imperius Curse of Hermione Granger.

He needs his wand back. This unfortunate incident must be corrected, immediately. There is no way he is going to allow Granger to remember this. Though, he does smirk slightly at the memory that she had not taken advantage of her opportunity to escape him, and instead, had stayed very involved in their encounter. He focuses on the wand on the ground and attempts a Summoning Charm, but nothing happens. Great … now, he can't bloody well concentrate either.

This is too humiliating. Nobody must ever find out, especially not Granger. He has to Obliviate her memory of this. No, that is too risky. He needs her to recall where she hid the Amulet of Aine.

Partly Obliviating someone is tricky business, since you need to know exactly where to target the spell and what memory needs to be removed. He knows the latter and he does have the skills to perform the charm. There is no doubt about that. With anyone else he would have had no hesitation to Obliviate them, but Granger had been showing him nature images. She added layers to her memory. It will simply be too risky. He can remove something vital inadvertently and destroy all his hopes of ever finding the Amulet.

He focuses on the wand again, but it won't budge an inch. He growls upon realising he will have to do this the muggle way. Carefully, so he does not wake Granger and makes her an eyewitness to his stupidity, he lifts himself and her out of the chair and carries her to the bed. He'll have to modify her memory. There is no other option. Since that can be easily reversed if by some fluke means he targets an area of her brain that he requires her to use later on.

Lord Voldemort walks back and picks up the Elder Wand. Disgust flutters through his eyes as he looks at it. This sort of thing never happened to him with his old wand. Frankly, he doesn't understand what the big deal is about this wand. It has never lived up to his legendary status and he begins to wonder whether the stories haven't been bogus to begin with. Perhaps he should reconsider using the old yew one again. Potter is dead, after all. So the dangers that he faced with the twin cores of the wands has been eliminated ten years ago. But somehow, he is still hanging on to this so called Unbeatable Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, the Elder Wand… He snorts. Another fairytale, no doubt. This wand does absolutely nothing more for him than his yew wand did.

He casts his robes back on, before moving back to Granger. She looks small and so vulnerable in the way that she lies there; fast asleep, while a predator is lurking about. It's just too bad, he can't allow her to remember. But there is no need to add a voice to his nonchalance and carelessness, even though she did not take advantage of it. Maybe she had not noticed. He has to check that, before doing something rash. Yes, she will have no defence against him while sleeping and her last memory will be closest to the surface of her mind anyway. Using Leglimency on someone, who is sleeping, does not allow full access to the mind, but it will do for now. And he flashes his wand.

… Hermione is walking toward him in a daze. A vague mist dominates her environment, while he sits in the chair … The effects of the Imperius Curse are visible through the blurred surroundings, beside him nothing is in focus.

… She is kissing him rather ferociously … She is still under his control here, he notices.

… His robes are gone and her eyes lose that blank stare. Her vision returns to normal as does her input of the room … He knows this has to be the point where he dropped his wand, and he almost loses it completely when he realises how early on he has let his guard down.

… She rides him when, suddenly, her eyes fall on the wand on the floor; he sees himself also starting to look down, but she grabs his head and halts him with a domineering kiss … That little vixen noticed! And diverted his attention away, so he wouldn't see the wand on the ground!

Voldemort is out of her mind instantaneously. A furious glare is thrown in her direction, while he paces the room. This is unacceptable, totally unacceptable. He lost it while that … that … while she was able to regain her senses. He let her control the situation. Her! And he uses a Reductor Curse to vent his anger at the chair. It is blasted into pieces and all that remains are tiny toothpicks, which reminds him that they still have not located the blasted woman's parents either!

He is just damn lucky she was unable to take possession of his wand. Damn lucky. And he realises that it was probably her slightly feeble physical condition that saved him from his foolishness. Because without the Imperius Curse holding her upright, it would have taken all her strength to remain active. It is a sure testament to her resolve that she was able to. Though in the end, it had not helped her. She depleted all her powers, before trying to summon the wand, and she had crumbled up in his arms, passing out from sheer exhaustion. This he finds rather enjoyable, but still he knows he has to be a lot more careful around this witch in the future.

He raises his wand at Hermione and casts the Memory-Modifying Charm to make certain she doesn't remember he dropped the Imperius Curse. He only has to change a minor bit, so he is not worried it will backfire on him. And as he leaves her, with his temper still very much heightened, he decides to finish off that traitorous Healer. It will be a wonderful evening after all. No one will ever know.

It's early in the morning when Lord Voldemort returns to the room he's holding Hermione Granger prisoner in. He takes a brief glance in the mirror and is looking at his physical appearance with immense satisfaction. He has a little theory to test. And it came to him yesterday evening when he was torturing that Healer for betraying him. Nightingale let some interesting things slip, while he was 'conversing' with her and he observed some rather peculiar events with Granger himself. He will test his theory today. And he takes one last look in the mirror. He looks exactly like that despicable Healer. It will do just fine. He observed Nightingale long enough to mimic her behaviour and all he needs to do now to test his theory is suppress his magic.

'Let's see if that will get the mice to dance on the table,' he thinks while entering.

His eyes fall upon the vomit on the floor. It pleases him sincerely. So it looks like Miss Granger doesn't have a good start of the new day. He waves his wand around to clean up the mess and the bathroom door opens behind him. Showtime.

Granger walks past him and she can barely stay upright or walk in a straight line. She seems exhausted from her trip to the bathroom. How long had she been showering?

'I told you before, Miss Granger, that there would not be enough soap in this world to wash away that feeling,' he thinks and grins, but immediately replaces that with a stoic expression.

Fortunately, she has her back to him. He has to be more careful. She crawls into bed and he is watching her intently. She appears very calm and relaxed? Surely, that can't be? She has to be upset, hasn't she?

But during their talk he gets more and more the impression that she isn't upset at all. She is calm, relaxed, undamaged, and concerned about the dead Healer's wellbeing, while he knows for certain that she is hurting. She has to be hurt. It infuriates him that she does not acknowledge this. He can barely restrain his magic from flowing, but he succeeds nevertheless and decides to push the matter a bit further with Granger. He shows her the bruises, he made, to remind her that she is not well. She is merely pissed at him for breaching her privacy, but still, she won't accept that he is stating the obvious, the truth if you will. She is not fine!

Merlin, that woman is stubborn. She just can not be fine. She has to be broken, destroyed. She is supposed to be in pieces this morning, so that he can mend her back together again in the way he sees fit. But here she is, unyielding, strong, deviant… Damn Gryffindor women! He most definitely hates Gryffindor women. They're arrogant, stubborn, overbearing, self-righteous, annoying, obnoxious and full of themselves Lions. Gryffindors and their stupid bravery … don't get him started on that subject.

And he begins an argument with Granger about whether Lord Voldemort was in the room or not during the Portkey incident. Voldemort notices she is beginning to get extremely aggravated by Nightingale's denial of the truth. And he decides to add a bit of oil to the flames. So he snorts at her statement and he sees with pleasure that it infuriates Granger. She is almost there. She will go over the edge soon. She will tell him what he needs to know any minute now.

'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,' Voldemort states with the Healer's voice, and he makes sure to have an aggravating high-and-mighty attitude while doing that.

'Really, are they?' is the mocking reply he gets.

'You know perfectly well they are,' Voldemort says, and he turns and starts to walk away from Granger, pretending to have won their discussion, pretending the argument is over and done with.

'They may be, but Voldemort isn't,' she angrily replies.

Bull's eye! She fell for it: hook, line and sinker. So she detected his presence before. Interesting. It appears there is more to Hermione Jean Granger than he already suspected. Slowly, he turns around.

'You can tell if he is in the room?' he asks disbelievingly and his gaze falls upon her, checking whether she is lying or not.

'I already told you that before.'

She is obviously furious. Her cheeks are flushed, her brown eyes sparkle and her jaw is fixed in determination. She really is cute when she is pissed and he listens to her ferocious rant.

'Really, how many times must I repeat myself? Yes, I can tell. It's bloody hard to miss and just…'

He smirks at her. She isn't lying. She can actually tell that he is there when he is invisible. And the only way, she can be able to do that, is if she can detect his magic, which he currently still is suppressing. And he sees the comprehension fall upon her face. She has finally recognised him.

'Must be my trademark smirk,' he triumphantly thinks.

'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.

This has proven a most useful enterprise. Granger has supplied him with some very interesting and vital information. She must be livid with herself for letting that slip and he twirls Florence's wand around victoriously. A vicious smile creeps upon his features when he sees Hermione 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.

She does not respond to his taunts. So he gazes at her, but she has the gall to stare back into his eyes. Unfazed to the lesser observer, but he sees her discomfort, even though she does not retreat. Feisty little one. He smirks again as he slowly glides toward her, keeping his eyes locked upon hers. It's a battle of wills and he is determined to have her acknowledge her own discomfort and defeat as he starts questioning her.

'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?'

She remains silent.

'No?' Voldemort amusedly says.

He has been expecting this response from her. He won't have it any other way. He shall inform her of that.

'Good … I actually prefer to obtain the information this way, Hermione,' he tauntingly states.

And he moves onto the bed, sitting opposite from her and only inches away. He pushes the wand in her ribcage. She shows fear at last. Finally, he was beginning to wonder whether she wasn't too bright after all. She looks away. Pathetic, Granger. You will not escape me that easily. He cups her head with his free hand and lifts her chin up to meet his eyes.

'Look at me, Hermione,' he whispers.

Their eyes meet. 'Leglimency.'

…She walks along this Godforsaken sandy beach. The waves strike the shore and …

…She walks in a green forest. It's filled with all kinds of nasty …

…She is sitting in this flowing meadow. The sun is shining and she seems quite happy to be in this disgusting place…

…She is on a bridge, leaning against the railing, while the obnoxious stream beneath her flows across…

He flees her mind. More nature sceneries! She, she … She is blocking his Leglimency with nature sceneries! He wants to kill her for that, but he can't… He still needs her. This cannot be a mere coincidence anymore. He has to go and check. Blocking his Leglimency like that. It is the manner in which she is doing it that is disturbing him the most. And there is also her uncanny ability to stay calm and relaxed in dire circumstances. It has the smell of those blasted monks interference all over it. Perhaps a nice Crucio will do the trick. No, she still appears too bloody fragile to him for something that invasive. Well, if she won't tell him, the Knights sure will. And he furiously storms out of the room. He will get to the bottom of this. And once he knows the truth, he will use it against her. If the Knights are involved, then they won't be of much use to her now.

He paces towards the exit, but Malfoy is there with some emergency that can't wait. Gosh, why doesn't he have any normal, average-thinking followers? Why do they all have to be so ignorant? He has use for someone, who can actually do something on their own and not make a mess of the event. He uses the Cruciatus Curse on Lucius to relieve his anger and aggravation. At least the vain man is useful for something. Too bad Malfoy did not bring his cane today. He has a splendid idea on where to plant that stick. After torturing Malfoy he feels much better, but he spends the next two days hollering against other stupid Death Eaters, who fail to do their jobs properly, and explaining to idiot Ministerial Employees that they are not allowed to make decisions on their own. After he has set them all straight on those matters, Voldemort is finally able to Apparate to Tibet.

Seeing the serene white building with its cosy, old-red roofing-tiles again makes him feel like blowing up something or torturing the next person into insanity, preferably the idiot monk who was his supposed mentor in this horrific place. So when the man, he baptised as Hamlet, finally approaches him, he can't help but smile broadly at the thought. Lord Voldemort receives a calm, genuine smile in return that he wants to wipe off the face of that despicable excuse of a monk, who calls himself a wizard, permanently. Perhaps some day in the future, he will do just that.

'Tom, you've returned to us. It is good to see you again,' Hamlet states with a slight bow.

Merlin, they really are horribly cheerful all the time. Well, he isn't going to fake his true feelings.

'That's nice for you,' Voldemort replies shortly, 'but I am not here for pleasantries. I need some information.'

'Obtaining information to receive true knowledge is a task all Men should strive at.'

Voldemort sighs. Here we go again with the dumbfounded sayings. He is long past being impressed by those. They probably just raided a Chinese restaurant and nicked all their fortune cookies.

'Has Hermione Granger been here?' he asks bluntly.

To his surprise he does not receive an immediate answer. What? Are they finally going to grow a backbone?

'It is not within my privilege to disclose information on another's pupil,' says Hamlet.

So she has been here, as he suspected. 'Then take me to the idiot who taught her,' Voldemort snaps.

'If that is what you wish,' says Hamlet calmly. 'Follow me.'

And as Voldemort follows the monk through the compound, he can't help but feel nothing except disgust for these despicable traitors. Granger hasn't told him a thing, while her position is far more precarious than theirs. And here they are, the famous Knights of Silence, ready to share everything freely with him. However, he notices they are walking in a strange direction. She wouldn't have had him as a teacher, would she? He hasn't taught a single soul in over a hundred years. Surely, he wouldn't…

But Hamlet opens the door and beckons him in. A short stature monk turns around and faces him.

'Tom, I've been expecting you, though I must say, it took you longer than I imagined beforehand,' Yoda says smiling.

Voldemort narrows his eyes. 'You were Hermione Granger's mentor here?' he asks suspiciously.

Yoda gives him a slight nod. 'You seem surprised.'

'I wasn't aware the leader of this facility is still teaching others.'

'Only under special circumstances and in specific cases. Miss Granger's capabilities did require me to get personally involved. It would have been a shame if her powers would have destroyed this … facility.'

'Oh yeah, that would have been a dreadful loss to the world,' Voldemort sarcastically states.

'Indeed,' Yoda replies cheerfully, ignoring the overflow of sarcasm. 'Care for some herbal tea?'

'Nope.'

'Hmmm, I always say that there is nothing better than a good conversation with a nice cup of tea, though I wouldn't say no to some chocolate pie if you brought any.' And Yoda hopefully stares at him.

Voldemort merely stares back. Has he gone demented or what? It's a good thing he has seen the monk in action, otherwise he may have felt sorry for Granger for getting stuck with this one as a mentor.

'Ah well, I guess it was too much to hope for. Nobody brings anything along anymore these days,' Yoda states obviously disappointed. 'Too bad, because the Force does not provide us with chocolate pie. I daresay it is a huge oversight.'

Maybe he can feel a little sorry for Granger anyway, because, no doubt, the man has definitely turned demented. He is even worse than Albus Dumbledore and his ridiculous Lemon Drop obsession. And Voldemort sits down on one of the pillows on the floor that Yoda is beckoning him too.

'So how have you been?' Yoda asks casually.

'I thought this monastery did not take in women,' Voldemort replies, ignoring the polite question.

'Not in general, no. We have a lot of sister … facilities … that do. However, I do not often meet people with that much potential and she was in no state to travel when she arrived here. So I guess an exception was made for an exceptional woman. I am sure you will agree with me that the girl is quite extra-ordinary.'

A minor inclination of Voldemort's head is all the affirmation Yoda gets, but he continues his speech in the same overly happy tone of voice.

'So why have you come? Surely, you did not need me to tell you Miss Granger has been here?'

'As a matter-of-fact I did. She, unlike you, is not inclined to share information with me,' Voldemort sneers, and his face shows the utter distaste he feels towards the monk on the other side of the table.

The corners of Yoda's mouth twitch upwards slightly. 'No, I suppose she wouldn't be,' says Yoda thoughtful. 'So what do you need to know?'

'Tell me everything about her time here.'

For a brief moment, Voldemort thinks that he sees a victorious glance dart through the monk's eyes, but he casts it aside as a figment of his imagination when Yoda starts telling him all about Hermione Granger into great detail. And the longer the little man talks the more Voldemort begins to despise him and the rest of this so-called Order of Silence.

'Silence, pfftt…,' he spats in his mind. 'They are nothing, but no good, two-timing, rat-faced weasels, whom should learn to keep their mouths shut and protect their protégés a little better.'

He realises he has never before felt more repugnance towards the monks than he has right now. They are disclosing all this information about Hermione to him, while they know very well it is done without her consent. He has always maintained a healthy loathing for cowards and in his book, the Knights, no matter how powerful they can be magically, are nothing else but a bunch of cowards, hiding away safely behind the protection of the walls of this building. At the moment nothing will please him more then to crush it down into the ground completely. He suddenly realises Yoda has stopped talking and is watching him with great interest.

'Continue,' Voldemort orders, while waving dismissively with his hand.

'But you don't want me too, Tom. Why is that?' Yoda asks serenely, but with an annoying amused glint in his eyes.

Blasted Leglimens. He forgot to keep up his Occlumency. A mistake, he won't make again.

'If you invaded my mind, then you know how I feel about talkative people, who deem themselves above all others, yet forget to practise what they preach,' Voldemort snarls.

'I see. Why are you here Tom? You don't need my help to get this information. Surely, you could have extracted everything from Miss Granger's mind. I know what kind of Occlumency she is capable off and you could have torn it apart in a heartbeat. Or … do you have certain qualms about doing so? Tell me, have you tried hurting her already or has that proven to be too difficult a task?' Yoda enquires.

'I've hurt her, old man. And rest assure I will destroy her, with your kind assistance. I simply felt no need to tire myself with breaking her, while her health is still questionable. And why should I bother when you so kindly offer me all the information I need.'

'Really, you've actually hurt her?' Yoda says disbelieving. 'That does not concur with what the Force is telling me. I believe you are mistaken.'

Voldemort snorts. 'If believing that will make you feel better about your actions monk, then feel free to delude yourself.'

'I doubt I am the one, who is deluding himself at the moment,' Yoda states thoughtful. 'You seem very eager to contradict my harmless statement. You haven't been able too, have you? How many opportunities have there been already? How many times could you have tortured the girl and found some feeble excuse not to do so? I daresay you probably haven't even used a single Unforgivable on her yet.'

A triumphant smirk flies across Voldemort's face. 'But I have, you old fool.'

Yoda stares at him and then smiles. 'Then enlighten me, how long did it take before you lost control of your magic on that occasion?'

The casual remark nearly knocks him over. It's like a bucket of ice water is thrown over his head as the image of his wand on the floor resurfaces to his memory and makes him jump to his feet. And with a flick of his wrist he points the Elder Wand straight at the monk before him.

'What are you not telling me?' he menacingly asks.

'Are you planning to restart your education here?' Yoda enquires calmly, like there is not a single cloud in the sky.

'Don't be a fool.'

'It will make you understand as to why some things happen, Tom. All those things, you deem unworthy of knowing, are now gaining up on you. I can teach you, if you are willing to stay.'

'Tell me why I lost control or I will finish your life.'

'I am afraid we both know that is impossible so why threaten me with it?' Yoda states nonchalant and he shrugs. 'Magic has many qualities and aspects you fail to perceive. It is why you lost control of the Imperius Curse and it is why you will continue to lose out to Miss Granger.'

A high-pitched, cold laugh roars around the monastery.

'That girl is my prisoner. I will tear her apart, and when I am done, I will reassemble the pieces in a way I deem fit. I may even make her come here and destroy you all. Tell me, Knight, oh great warrior,' Voldemort mocks, 'what will you do if I send her here with orders to kill you all. How will you stop your former pupil? By destroying her for your failure, your inability to keep her interested in your wonderful, little fairy tales? Your convictions seem to lose their interest among those who start out their education here. How many others have left without hearing you out?

You've failed miserably, monk, and because of that, I will make certain to continue her education. After all, she has shown that she has enough level headiness and intelligence to leave this place before turning into one of you. And I can show her what true power entails. She will realise her folly was listening to the likes of you in first place, and she will be mine in no time. The temptation to do proper magic will be too great for her to throw away. I will prove to you that your ways are obsolete by converting your precious student to my ways, and once I am done, I will send her here, so you can do my bidding by disposing of her for me.'

'I have every confidence in Miss Granger's ability to resist your ways,' Yoda merely says.

'You wish to challenge me, Knight?'

'I have no use to compete over universal truths. Hermione Granger will defeat you.'

'She is at my mercy,' Voldemort hisses angry, 'I can assure you that the lure of the Dark Arts will not be overcome by her.'

'It is you who is at her mercy, Tom. But I understand that you do not have the capabilities to realise that.'

Voldemort scowls, but he does not respond verbally to the in his mind ridiculous statement. After a long, tense silence, a devious smile is visible as he prepares to leave the monastery.

'Fine, it seems we have nothing more to say to each other. I will send Granger your regards, monk. I am certain she will be very pleased to hear all about our conversation and your lack in discretion concerning her privacy.'

And he laughs loudly as he Apparates back to England. It's when he arrives at the outskirts of Hogsmeade that the smile vanishes from his face as he sees the front of the wave from a large explosion hurtle towards him.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory