Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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.

Chapter List
- 74
- 75
- 76
Harmony hopped on one foot as she slipped on her shoes. She ran to catch up to Voldemort as he strode through the forest away from the waterfall. Her hair was still damp and stuck to her face. He had been quick to dress after they finished bathing, hardly giving her time to use a hot air charm to dry herself. His new shirt had a high-collar, doing its job to hide most of the burns. His black cloak billowed away from his body as he walked quickly between the trees. Its trim brushed the tips of her shoes as she followed close behind.
She thought about their conversation beneath the waterfall. What exactly was this heirloom? But most importantly, why didn't he want to show her? She hadn't seen him come out of Riddle mansion with anything. Either it was small enough to fit in his pocket, or it wasn't an object at all. Maybe it was some kind of information.
Harmony stared at the back of Voldemort's head. His black hair was slicked back flat against his scalp. The scent of dry soap on his skin touched her nose; it was musky, like some kind of exotic spice.
They reached the clearing in the trees and she could see the large tent on top of the hill. It glowed with a soft yellow light. Torches decorated both sides of the entrance, welcoming them in.
"How long is this going to take?" she asked as they began to climb the hill.
"Why? Did you have plans after dinner?"
"No," she said slowly. "Not unless you had plans for us."
"Would you like there to be?" When he looked over at her, his eyes were hooded with lust.
She looked away. "Whatever pleases you, my Lord."
He hummed with longing. "Yes, it would please me very well." He stopped short of the entrance and faced her. His long fingers came up and brushed aside a wet strand of hair from her face. "We will have dinner, like proper hosts, followed by a simple discussion of our plans. But then…" his fingers cupped her chin, holding her face firmly, "our evening is free." He released her and turned to go inside the tent.
The world map was gone, as well as all the newspaper clippings. The walls were now bare, save one tapestry above a serving table that was covered with steaming food. Occupying the center of the room was a long dining table, similar to the one she saw in Riddle mansion. A group of followers were gathered around the table, chatting softly. When they walked in, there was a hush and everyone bowed. Harmony recognized several followers, including Mag and Barty.
Voldemort took his spot at the head of the table. Barty was quick to take her hand and guide her to the seat at the opposite end. Voldemort watched this thoughtfully, but looked away. Harmony withheld her contempt at the feel of Barty's clammy skin on hers. Once she was seated, he took the spot directly to Voldemort's left. The rest of the Death Eaters followed suit, filling the remaining seats at the table.
With a wave of a hand, Voldemort summoned the servants. Silently, they began filling plates with heaps of food, starting with their Lord and Lady. Harmony swallowed when she gazed at all of the delicious choices: roast beef, shepherd's pie, steak and kidney pudding, boiled potatoes with butter and gravy, roasted turkey. A server girl poured red wine into her goblet. When Harmony took a sip, her mouth set on fire as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. She gasped, clutching her chest, and those sitting around her laughed. Voldemort lifted his goblet to her and drained it in four gulps.
People chatted amongst themselves amid the clatter of forks and knives. Although followers tried to converse with their master, Voldemort looked up from his food every now and then to meet Harmony's eyes. She would gaze back until a Death Eater reclaimed his attention.
Near the end of dinner, a blond-haired Death Eater said on her right, "I hope my honorable Lady is enjoying her time at our new haven." She recognized him, but couldn't place a name. Most likely she saw him during the Battle of Hogwarts. She looked hard at him for a second and wondered if he had murdered any children on that unforgettable night. Her smile was bitter when she replied:
"Everyone has been very welcoming."
"They'd better be," he said after tearing off a bite of meat with his teeth. "The Dark Lord would slaughter them if they weren't."
She hesitated, gazing down at her plate. "You don't think that was the only reason why people were being nice to me, do you? Out of fear?"
He frowned, looking at her with uncertainty. She wondered if she had been too open with her thoughts.
"No. No, my Lady. You have their loyalty."
"I want their trust," she said suddenly.
"My Lady?"
"You hardly know me. No. You don't know me at all—not the real me." She leaned forward on her elbow. "How can you feel loyalty towards a stranger?"
"It is my duty–"
"How long have you been loyal to the Dark Lord?"
"Years."
"Did you kill Muggles?"
"Yes."
"Did you kill Muggle-borns?"
"Yes, my Lady."
"Did you enjoy it?"
He narrowed his eyes. "It was my duty."
She stared at the Death Eater intently. "So do you know what I am?"
His eyes shifted to the Dark Lord, then back to her. "I know you used to be chums with the Potter boy. I read it in the Daily Prophet. I heard from somewhere that Potter was close to a Muggle-born."
"That's right."
"So it's true," he whispered. "You are a Muggle-born. Does…" he hesitated, glancing again at his master, "does the Dark Lord know?"
"Yes. But he and I have an understanding. He no longer cares about dealing with Muggles."
"And he knows about your past relationship with Potter?"
She thought a moment. "I don't know. He has never mentioned it. I know he has been reading the Daily Prophet; he had news articles all over these walls earlier. But if he knew, I don't know why he would fail to say anything."
"Yes, it's very peculiar," he said slowly. "If I knew you used to be friends with my enemy, I'd want to use your relationship to get to him."
Her eyes found Voldemort. She said softly, "Maybe he doesn't want to use me."
The blonde Death Eater laughed to himself and took a large sip of wine from his goblet. "Pardon me, my Lady."
"What are you two talking about down there?" Voldemort asked as he pushed away his empty plate. A server was quick to take it away.
"Nothing, my Lord," she said. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she added, "Politics."
He grunted and looked away with disinterest.
Mag spoke, "Now, if our Dark Lord wouldn't mind, shall we move on to heavier conversation?"
"Yes." Voldemort straightened up in his chair. "What news do you have on the Ministry?"
"Danitus and Emille, stationed in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, have heard rumors that the Potter boy and his entourage are taking residence back at Hogwarts. Perhaps they think they can remain safe there."
"Or that they can keep others safe," said a witch on Harmony's left, a woman who looked particularly frightening with a black veil covering her eyes.
"Either way is irrelevant," Voldemort said. "They ought to know now that Hogwarts is no longer a haven for them to hide in. We can walk in and out of there whenever we pleased."
"And we will, my Lord, won't we? Hogwarts has plenty of good recruits that can be taught properly, through the Dark Arts. Perhaps when they see how our numbers have grown they'll be more inclined to join us."
"Another encroachment on Hogwarts school is not our top priority," Voldemort said. "The Ministry would send help at the first whiff of trouble. We can't risk losing numbers, not when we need as many as possible to take the Ministry by force. Once the Ministry of Magic is taken and we have gained control of the Wizarding World then we will take Hogwarts, if it is still open by then. Either way, Hogwarts will be made into one of our many headquarters."
Harmony cleared her throat and she ignored all other eyes that turned to her as she said to Voldemort, "What about the children? How will they receive their education?"
"The education of the young will continue. We will, of course, be conducting our own lessons by teachers approved by me."
"In all subjects, I hope," Harmony said.
"In all the ones I deem necessary," he replied with bite.
Harmony told herself that if it did come to that then she would have a say in it, whether he liked it or not.
"And," he continued, "when we attack the Ministry, Harry Potter will come to me. He is like that foolish old man, Dumbledore: he can never run away from a fight."
"Dead foolish old man, Dumbledore," Barty said with a snicker. Wicked laughter followed, and Harmony felt a sick twisting in her stomach.
After a while, the conversation moved to more mundane subjects, like how much food was needed to be imported to take care of the mass of followers, and how they were going to take care of the sanitation problems, like bathrooms and bathing. For now, people shared a river nearby to clean themselves.
Harmony could tell the mundane conversation was starting to bore the Dark Lord. He nodded every once in a while, until his blue eyes eventually glazed over as he fingered the rim of his goblet. Then he busied himself with gazing at her.
His eyes didn't always meet hers; most of the time they roved over her body, her bare arms, the plunging neckline. His tongue slid out of his mouth like a snake's and licked his bottom lip. When she tried to sense what he was feeling, she felt a confliction of both desire and annoyance, as though he was irritated by the way he longed for her. That was common for him; she knew he was so used to rejecting any intimate feelings for women that welled up inside him that whenever he felt something for her he first had to fight back those instincts to reject her.
Harmony wished she could tell him in that moment that it was okay for him to desire something beyond power.
She smiled at him from across the table while the servers began passing out small plates of chocolate treacle. He took notice to that smile and sat up straighter in his chair. She gave him a little nod before picking up her desert fork.
"—and although we continue to add more tents and family-sized caravans, we're still becoming too compact, so we're thinking of expanding the campsite outwards another two hundred acres—"
"I am finished for the night," Voldemort interrupted, pushing his chair away from the dining table. "We will continue this meeting another time."
"Oh, yes," the Death Eater stammered. "Of course, my Lord, any time."
When he stood, everyone followed suit, except her. Harmony sat there with her fork of chocolate treacle halfway to her open mouth.
"My Lady," Voldemort said, holding his hand out to her. "Join me."
She looked around at everyone watching, and then set aside her food and stood. When she passed Barty to take Voldemort's hand, he gave her a dirty smirk as though he knew what the night had in store for the couple.
Voldemort's long, slender fingers curled around her hand and held it firmly. She could feel his palm sweating. Two servers held open the tent flaps and each follower bowed as the two of them left. Throughout their journey back to the tent in the forest, Voldemort kept a hand on her at all times. She could hear him breathing heavily, even at their easy pace. She knew what was coming and the thought of it set her heart racing.
He pushed her urgently through the entrance to the tent. Their little home in the forest welcomed them with a roaring fire and a platter of sweets on the bedside table. Someone must have come and fixed everything up for them while they were at dinner.
Voldemort hadn't even taken off his cloak before seizing her from behind. She turned in his arms and he instantly pressed his lips on hers. His heavy breathing hadn't let up and she could feel hot wisps of air beating rhythmically against her cheek. He pulled her tighter until she was flush against his body. She struggled to breath, but didn't push away. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck; his nose was ice cold against the warmth of her skin. She heard him whisper her name, quiet enough that it sounded as though he was saying "Hermione, Hermione." But as she listened closer, she heard him again with his breath hot on her neck. "Harmony, Harmony." The names sounded so similar that she had mistaken them. He said it over and over until his words drowned out into moans of longing.
A knot formed in her throat. She tried to swallow a few times, but with no relief. Breathing became impossible until she couldn't stand it, and she pushed her hands into his chest. At first he refused to move away from her, but after she insisted he eventually gave in with an irritated groan.
"Are you going to make me beg?" he murmured, tilting his head at her.
"You know I could never manage that," she whispered, but looked away.
"Then what?"
She shook her head. Hearing him say "Harmony," there was something about it that put her off. The name was a lie from the beginning, but it had become a part of her identity from the very moment he said it aloud, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't like the way he called her by it.
He read the Daily Prophet; therefore, he should know what her real name was. So why wasn't he using it. Habit, perhaps? Maybe he was just used to calling her Harmony. Or maybe he—like her—had simply come to associate the name with that part of her life: she was Hermione with Harry, and she was Harmony with him. But she didn't like to think of it that way. Hermione was her name; it was the one her parents gave her. But she couldn't bring herself to accept it; she felt she didn't deserve to be acknowledged by her old name, not after betraying her friends.
The only way she could ever reclaim her name would be if Voldemort accepted it, as well as every bit of her past, including the bit about her being his worst enemy's best friend.
She had been staring into the fire, lost in her thoughts, when he brought his cool lips to her forehead.
"You're thinking about today, aren't you?" he said, bringing a hand up to touch her hair which was still a little damp from bathing. "Meeting all of our new followers and such, you must be exhausted. Just remember how necessary they are in order for our plans to play out and you will become used to them in time."
"I am tired."
"You have a busy day tomorrow. It was tiresome for me mentoring you alone, but you have thirty to fifty students to handle tomorrow. Let's go to bed."
She looked away from the flames to his icy blue eyes. After placing a hand on his cheek—the side with the burns—she kissed him softly.
Voldemort doused the fire with his wand while Harmony slipped out of her green gown. Their little tent went dark as the two of them huddled together beneath the blankets.
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Serpentine Series