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
- 77
- 78
- 79
Harmony's hands shook as though she had just walked away from a violent battle. The adrenaline coursing through her body made her edgy, irritable, angry, afraid. As she flew by the trees, as fast as her feet would allow, she threw glares over her shoulder into the densest of the forest where she knew he was. She kept expecting to see him there, following her, running to catch up and finish what they had started.
A part of her wondered if she should have obeyed his demands and punished that young rebellious woman. It would have been more merciful than the punishment Voldemort served. It would have saved them of this conflict. Right now, she could have been lying with him in their tent, having that romantic night they wanted—but no! Harmony quickly stopped that line of thinking.
She was right! Not him! Harmony was good to follow her gut and refuse his orders. She would never hurt an innocent person—not years ago when she was Hermione Granger, and not now. Not ever! Those curses were Unforgivable for a reason! She couldn't let Voldemort influence her in that dark way, despite her feelings for him. See this—! This was why she hesitated to reveal to him the truth about her pregnancy. He still wanted her to take over for him—as the Serpentine charm suggested—and he wanted her to do it his way. Her refusal to give in to his dark demands made her imperfect as a leader, in his eyes.
Would he see the child as a chance to make the perfect dictator? One that wouldn't hesitate to kill whenever he demanded it—where she had failed?
A tree root stabbing out of the ground was suddenly in her path and she almost tripped. Harmony straightened herself with a huff of frustration.
How could he?
Her hands bunched into gnarly, angry fists.
How dare he ask that of me?
Her feet stomped the ground with each step forward.
Oh! He is so arrogant and vain and cruel and…
A guttural groan ripped through her throat. But tears sprang up to cloud her vision, and suddenly she found herself crying.
Harmony placed two fingers at the corner of her eyes to staunch the flow of tears. She didn't want to show up at the party at the recreational tent looking all puffy-eyed and upset. After a deep breath in and out, the shaking in her hands subsided and she was ready to continue on her way.
When she made it out of the tree line, towards the hill that separated the forest from the campsite, her thoughts strayed to the next moment when she would see Voldemort next. What would they say to each other? What couldthey say? She recalled some of the words they'd exchanged before she'd fled out of there. But only one thing stood out from that argument. The words repeated themselves over and over in her mind, unwilling to let themselves be forgotten.
"I would kill the entire world for you."
There had been no love in his eyes when he had said that to her—no affection, no warmth. He had said it as though he was telling her the Earth was round. It was a simple fact. He'd do it. For her.
A shiver ravaged her body—not just along her skin, but deep down into the marrow of her bones. She was suddenly feeling confused, and maybe even a little bit afraid.
He would kill the entire world…
It hit her then just how significant his words were. The confession had come from the Dark Lord's own lips. How often does he really admit his true feelings? When has he ever told a Death Eater—or anyone!—something so vehemently loyal such as killing the whole world for them? Was there really no one else on this planet as important to him as her?
Maybe, she thought, maybe that was his way of finally telling me that he…
The next word caught itself, reluctant to make itself known. Why did it have to be this difficult? Harmony shifted from one foot to the other and swung her head around so she was looking into the forest, where he was.
Was that the Dark Lord Voldemort's way of saying "I love you"?
A voice called out to her and she jumped, swinging back around to look up the hill. One of her handmaidens, the younger one, had just come out of the main tent with dishes in hand and was looking down on her.
Harmony waved. She climbed the hill and met her handmaiden at the top. The girl bowed, though she was encumbered by the heavy load of dishes in her arms. Harmony shot forward to take a stack of plates before they went crashing to the ground. Her handmaiden thanked her, but when she got a closer look of Harmony's face, she frowned and tilted her head.
"Are you alright, my Lady?" she asked, balancing a load of goblets in her arms.
Harmony's gaze shot down to the forest. She wiped a corner of her eye. "I'm fine."
Her handmaiden noticed. "The Dark Lord wasn't unkind to you, was he? Oh, I heard about what happened with that woman."
Harmony looked back at the girl. Her handmaiden's young face flushed deep red, and she looked away.
"I'm sorry, my Lady," she said. "That wasn't my place to say."
"It's okay." She quickly changed the subject. "I heard about a party happening tonight at the recreational tents. It sounded like fun. I thought I'd come over and take a look."
Her handmaiden's face lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. "That's right! Music, drinking, dancing. I was just heading over myself once I finished cleaning up here."
"Well, here," Harmony said, holding up the stack of plates. "Let me help you. We can go over together."
"You want to help me clean?"
"Why not?"
Her handmaiden shrugged. "As you wish, my Lady."
They carried the dirty dishes down the other side of the hill toward the campsite. At night, it made for a pretty sight. Beneath the wide spread of twinkling stars, warm fires and lanterns illuminated the countless caravans and colorful tents. Talking, laughter, and music rose up to fill the air. It was so full of life and contentment. Seeing it brought a little peace to Harmony's mind.
"Over here, my Lady."
They went to a line of water barrels and tables. Dirty dishes were already stacked high and on one end a group of people were scrubbing away with soap and brushes. The young women set their burden down on the table and the workers thanked them without looking up. The last thing they expected was to see the Dark Lord's heir helping out with chores, so Harmony walked away with her handmaiden unnoticed.
However, her anonymity didn't last long after they approached the recreational tent. People overflowed from the inside out, sitting or standing on the grass in large groups, holding their drinks and chatting. The first wizard who noticed her coming their way snapped to attention and bowed. Others followed suit and soon everyone outside the party was showing their respect.
From the outside, the large recreational tent—shaped like an octagon with a red flag at its peak—was a beacon of soft yellow light in the nighttime. Shadows of the people inside played through the canvas. Live music poured out from the tent flaps tied back to keep the easy flow of people coming in and out. The second the two young women stepped inside, her handmaiden was swept away by a handsome man and a full goblet was pushed into Harmony's hand. She brought it up to her nose and took a whiff. The sharp scent of alcohol singed her nose hairs, and she set the drink down on a busy table nearby. Before it had even hit the tabletop, the drink was snatched up by another enthusiastic partygoer.
At one end of the tent was a stage where the musicians played wizard rock songs. Right then, they were playing the familiar "This Is the Night" by The Weird Sisters. A mass of followers danced before them, holding their arms up in the air, jumping up and down to the beat. On the other end of the tent was a stack of barrels, big enough that if Harmony wrapped her arms around one, her fingers would barely meet. A steady stream of followers, cups in hand, poured themselves hard ale from the tapped barrels. On the table beside them was a pail of water. Harmony made her way over to it.
She squeezed around the occupied tables and benches. When she excused herself and asked to get past, people glanced at her, took and double take, and leaped out of the way. A wooden ladle bobbed in the pail; she used it to pour water into a fresh goblet. When it was full, she took a drink. The liquid was warm and a little stale, but still a better alternative to the ale.
Her attention was immediately captured when she caught someone saying a name she hadn't heard in what felt like forever.
"Haven't you heard what Harry Potter's up to?"
It was coming from one of the tables off to the side. It was completely full of people, so Harmony went over to stand behind a chair and listen in.
"After the Escape of Menkar," said an older wizard with faded blue robes, "he returned to Hogwarts to help them establish some kind of advanced dueling program."
"It's intended to train the students for combat," a blonde witch added. "Real combat."
"The Battle of Hogwarts got them scared," said another. "They're training those kids right up for an army. Just like us."
"Not like us. We've got some mentors already teaching Unforgivable curses to our students."
The older wizard sighed. "Yes, I'm wary of that. I've got two teenagers being taught here."
"Teaching the Dark Arts may be our only way to get ahead; that is, if the Ministry really is training their kids to help with the fight against the Dark Lord."
"All the same, the Killing curse is one spell my children don't need under their belt."
"This is a time of war. Just look at the current Minister of Magic: Rufus Scrimgeour, former Head of the Auror Office. An Auror running our government! It's no wonder Hogwarts is turning into a soldier-making machine. And he's got Harry Potter helping him with it."
Harmony listened with a heavy heart. She couldn't imagine Hogwarts being anything like it was here at the Dark Lord's headquarters. Advanced dueling program? It really was a time of war. She listened closer as their subject moved on to other matters, particularly regarding Muggle-borns.
"Not long ago, there were rumors the Dark Lord was making plans to have insiders at the Ministry of Magic infiltrate a new order to have all Muggle-borns registered and interrogated. A…Muggle-born Registration Commission, I think it was to be called. It's never gonna pan out now, though, is it?"
"Why do you say that?" asked the older wizard.
"Don't you know?" said the blonde witch who sat with her back to Harmony. "Our Lady's a Muggle-born. It's obvious he's infatuated with her. Degrading and eliminating Muddle-borns isn't one of his hobbies anymore. He's probably scared now that Registration Commission would piss her off—hey!"
One of the companions sitting across from the blonde witch had hit her in the chest with an empty goblet. Once they got her attention, they pointed over her shoulder to Harmony standing behind her. When the blonde witch looked, she blanched and sprang up from her chair. Several others did the same, and they all bowed to her.
"My Lady, I…I," the blonde witch stammered.
"You're right," Harmony said before the witch could apologize. "I am a Muggle-born. He is infatuated with me. He doesn't care about Muggle-borns anymore. And that would piss me off…" She gave them a little smile. "You've said nothing wrong."
A couple of them laughed lightly and returned to their seats when Harmony beckoned them to. The blonde witch offered Harmony her chair and she took it.
"What do you think, my Lady," the older wizard asked once he had taken his seat. "If I may ask, what are your thoughts on the matter of Muggle-borns in the wizarding community? I would assume you are supportive, but with the Dark Lord as a mentor…well, you never know."
"I am, of course, supportive," she answered. After thinking a moment, she continued, "If I had the power to do so, I would abolish all pro-pureblood groups. As we've seen, they've caused the Wizarding World nothing but trouble by spreading fear and destruction. Muggle-borns would, obviously, be given equal rights as purebloods. Our government has progressed well over the years, but discrimination against them is still an issue, as I've seen firsthand at Hogwarts School. Any intolerance would be entirely prohibited. It is a fact that there is no difference in magical capabilities between a Muggle-born and a Pureblood."
"Of course," said one of her table-mates, waving a hand over her, "you are proof of that. You are arguably one of the strongest witches in our world."
There was a murmur of approval and Harmony blushed at the compliment.
"With your parents being Muggles, you must also sympathize with the non-magical community, yes?"
"More than that," she said, taking a drink of her water. "I think both communities should be more involved with the other. This world doesn't belong to just us. My parents, although non-magical, embrace my capabilities." She smiled sadly at the memory of the Grangers. "They always have. And they wouldn't be the only ones. Both sides need the other in order to thrive. Most wars in the Wizarding World have been due to the belief that magical peoples are superior."
"Although I see what you're getting at, some would argue that Muggles—because of their lack of magic—are of no use to us. In a way, aren't we superior?"
"In a way, yes," she replied. "But like I said, both sides need the other; because although Muggles are non-magical, they are powerful in their own way…I believe it is the only way to have peace."
The table was silent a moment, then the older wizard commented, "That sounds like a very idealistic cause, my Lady, if I may say so. Very ambitious."
"Idealistic it may be," said another at the table, "but any cause striving to attain peace is always a cause worth fighting for."
"If you'll pardon me," said the blonde witch, "but many people would consider combining the magical and non-magical communities as dangerous thinking. Surely the Dark Lord does not share your ideals."
Before Harmony could reply, another person cut in, "Of course he wouldn't! The Dark Lord wants complete control over every community, regardless of magical capabilities. And he'll get it, too, with our help."
Harmony considered this. It was true that Voldemort's sole ambition was to gain more power, more followers, and more control. But…to what end? His anger towards Muggles—due to his father, Riddle Senior—had fueled him for quite some time. But with that anger subdued thanks to her, what was driving him? Perhaps he did have some ideal he was striving for, or maybe...maybe it was simply the journey to attaining power he craved. Once he had everyone under his thumb, once there were no more lands to take over, rebels to kill, or governments to overturn, what would he want then?
She remembered that dream they had shared not so long ago—the one Aislin had been in—where the whole world was burning, and Voldemort had killed everyone and everything until there was nothing covering the Earth but ash.
I would kill the entire world for you.
Perhaps that nightmare wasn't too far from reality.
"Look at us," said one of her companions who lowered their voice so only those in the group could hear, "we've got a former Auror on one end and a power-hungry wizard on the other end. War is inevitable. The world deserves better than this, don't you think?"
Everyone voiced their approval, and then the older wizard spoke:
"This world doesn't just deserve better, it deserves a good leader, one that won't command our children onto a battlefield."
Thoughtful silence fell among the group, and then—one-by-one—their gazes turned onto her.
Harmony's eyes popped. Meeting each one of their hopeful looks, she suddenly wondered if this group of people she'd been talking to was a part of her rebellious loyalists. She quickly looked away, taking a long swig of water. No pressure, no pressure, no pressure…
"My Lady—"
Harmony shot up from her seat, casually observing the dancing area over all their heads. "My, that looks like fun," she said, her voice shrill with suppressed emotion. "I think I'm in the mood for a little dancing. Anyone wish to join me?"
Before anyone could reply, she was already gone.
Harmony escaped into the mass of dancers, trying to forget what their gazes had implied. Their faith in her was frightening, unanticipated, and in some way…flattering. She didn't like the idea of rebels among Voldemort's followers causing trouble in her name. But at the same time, when they all looked to her with optimism and in their eyes, a pleasant warmth had filled her. Helping people was in her nature, but being a leader wasn't. She was unaccustomed to it; Harry Potter had always been the one to take up that end.
But she didn't come to the party to dwell on such heavy matters. She needed to digest all of this new information and clear her mind.
Moving to the rapid beat of the bass and drums, Harmony was embraced by the crowd. She joined them, raising her arms above her head and jumping up and down. No one danced with a particular partner; they all danced as one throng, enjoying the music and the passion. It stank of sweat and ale, but she didn't mind. She liked having the company.
A youth, whose face she couldn't make out, grabbed her hands and twirled her around what little space they had. He placed her hands on his shoulders and she danced with him. While he spun her about to the rhythm of the music, she looked over his shoulder at the party surrounding them. The lanterns floating above their heads were dim, providing them with privacy. On the outer edges of the dance floor, however, the lanterns shone bright. Much of what she saw was simply dancers and more dancers, but then she caught a break in the bodies to the edge of the dance floor. There by the tent canvas, standing with one leg resting up on a bench, was Barty taking a large gulp of his ale. It was no surprise to see him there getting down his favorite drink, enjoying the sight of all the pretty girls. But something else caught her attention.
The mousy man she remembered from earlier—the one who had revealed to Voldemort what Barty had done at lessons and taken blame for it—walked up to the dark-haired Death Eater and spoke to him. Of course Harmony couldn't make out what they were saying over the roar of the rock music playing on stage. She assumed he was telling Barty about Voldemort wanting to meet him later to formally serve his punishment, and she waited for his face to contort with fear. However, it never did. Quite the opposite, actually.
Instead of paling in terror, Barty clapped the man on the shoulder, smiling smugly, and reached into his jacket pocket. Harmony couldn't see what he took out as he handed whatever it was to the mousy man, who had his back to her. The man seemed pleased, though, and left after putting the thing in his pocket. Barty watched him go, then took a long draft from his ale. When the goblet came down from his lips, his black eyes met hers.
A pause.
Then he smiled and winked.
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, until the youth twirled her around again. The world spun and when it stopped, she looked back to where Barty was standing, but he was gone.
He showed up moments later on the dance floor, not far from her. She lost sight of him now and again. Each time she caught his eye, he was always grinding lewdly with a different woman. Their eyes always met—brown to black—and it never failed to make him grin.
As the night went on, everyone was becoming steadily rowdier from the excessive amounts of alcohol. In the back, by the kegs of ale, came a roar of approval. Harmony tore her eyes away from Barty and looked to see a woman climb onto one of the tables, moving her hips seductively to the music. The crowd's approval only seemed to fuel her passion as she then began stripping away each layer of clothing. It caught the attention of the youth she'd been dancing with, and he left to get a closer look.
Suddenly—like the flip of a switch—the atmosphere of the party changed. The air became charged with excitement and lust. Couples appeared out of nowhere, kissing and dancing so close their bodies intertwined. Men of every age—emboldened by their intoxicated minds—fought to catch Harmony's eye. Some made sexual gestures that made her blush.
Space opened up on the dance floor, and she was thinking it was just about time to leave when burly arms came out from behind and wrapped around her body. She couldn't see their face—they held her firmly against their thick chest—but she could smell the stale stench of ale on their breath when they pressed their unshaved cheek against hers.
Her first thought was of Barty, but when she loudly rejected his advances, he replied in a voice she didn't recognize.
"You know you want it, pixie."
"How dare you?" she snarled.
He pressed his face into the crook of her neck and took a long inhale of breath. "You smell so pretty. Like lavender."
"Oh! If the Dark Lord saw you now—!"
"—well, the Dark Lord isn't here, is he?"
"Don't make me hurt you!"
He laughed and thick, hairy hands came up to stroke her breasts.
"Leave her alone, Pavos," a woman said as she strode up, wand drawn. Harmony recognized her to be the very same young woman that had insulted Voldemort earlier, the same one Harmony had refused to cast a Cruciatus on.
Pavos swore at the woman, telling her to get lost.
"I can't do that," she said, "not when you intend to harm my Lady."
"Don't get your wand in a twist," he slurred. "We're just having a little fun."
Ugh, Harmony thought as she tried to wrench herself free from his grasp, he's just like Barty.
"Really?" the young woman asked dubiously. Her eyes went to Harmony, who vehemently shook her head. "You're outnumbered, Pavos. Just let our Lady go and things might not end poorly for you."
"Like hell I'm outnumbered," he growled. His loud, guttural voice made Harmony's ears ring. "I could take you and duel your pretty little face into the ground!"
"Really?" the woman said again, only now it had a violent edge to it, as though challenging the man to try something. "You really think you can take on all of us?"
She opened her arms, beckoning to the crowd surrounding them and out of nowhere people singled out, wands drawn, to stand beside the witch. Every man and woman, young and old, in this singular group cast Pavos murderous glares. And with each person who stepped out, his hold on her loosened.
"Do you think you can treat our Lady like any one of your girls?" the young witch continued, now looking stronger than ever with the guard of witches and wizards on each side. "You forget, Pavos. Our Lady is no ordinary woman. She has an army on her side."
Pavos' arms released her and he took a couple steps back. Harmony spun around as he was fleeing from the tent.
"Wise choice," the witch muttered, pocketing her wand.
The people that came to her defense now trickled back into the rest of the crowd as though nothing had happened.
"That was fantastic," Harmony said, holding out her hand.
The witch took her hand and gave it firm shake. She said her name was Lyra. "He should've known better, that man. But he's one of the original Death Eaters; has no respect for anyone except the Dark Lord and himself. Anyway," she smiled kindly and bowed, "think nothing of it. If you ever need help, I'll be there, along with my friends."
"That's very kind of you. I…" Harmony dropped her voice and it overflowed with sincerity. "I am so, so sorry about what happened today."
The smile never left Lyra's face. She shook away her Lady's apologies and laughed. "Oh, my Lady, no words can express how satisfying that was. I mean, did you see the look on his face! Those pretty blue eyes of his were ready to pop out his skull! If I could do it again, I would do it a thousand times, and happily endure the punishment."
"But it's dangerous," Harmony stressed. "Not just because of Voldemort, but because of his most loyal followers. They'll give you hell for mistreating him."
"Too right," Lyra sighed, but still smiled. "I had a couple pranks up my sleeve I planned on serving that pasty-skinned troll—"
"Oh no!"
"But I promise to do as you say," she finished, holding up her hands. "I'll back off if you wish."
"Thank you," Harmony said with relief. "You know, Voldemort can act cruel sometimes, but he's not as bad as he used to be."
Lyra grumbled.
"He had changed his mind about killing you."
"True. Thank heaven for small mercies, I suppose."
The women exchanged heartfelt goodbyes before going their separate ways. Harmony still wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. The atmosphere was still excited with lust, and now more women were joining the first on the tabletops by the ale kegs. Better leave before another incident occurred. As she left the recreational tent, men watched her, their eyes roving over her body. She looked around.
I wonder where Barty is.
He wasn't anywhere in the tent that she could tell. The spectacle with her little "army" probably scared him away. That thought made her smile.
Harmony didn't feel like going back to the tent just yet, not while she was still mad at Voldemort. She had used defensive magic to stop him from having his way with her. Never before has she not returned his intimate advances; he was probably just as confused and upset as she was. They both needed a little more time to cool down. So she started walking—not to anywhere in particular—but when her feet stopped moving, she found herself standing before the waterfall in the forest where they bathed. The mist off the water was refreshing after the hot confines of the party in the tent. She slipped off her shoes and soaked her sore feet in the cool water. Mud and sand squelched up between her toes. The chill air cleared the fog from her mind, and she contemplated the evening.
The surprise mention of Harry Potter and her parents left her feeling lonelier than she had felt in a while. Voldemort was all she had here, but after what happened tonight? Her heart ached for the warmth of companionship. She wanted to curl up on the couch between her mother and father and bond over their favorite Masterpiece Theater on TV, like they used to whenever she had a bad day. Weeks ago—felt like years—she promised she would send a message by Patronus to her friends, just to let them know she was okay.
She could do it now, but…they wouldn't want to hear from her, anyway. The fact that every Auror in the Wizarding World watched her escape Voldemort—at least who they thought was Voldemort—from execution at Menkar probably didn't make her one of their favorite people, especially with Harry Potter.
Her parents, however…
Harmony whipped out her wand and planted herself firmly on the ground with the water up to her ankles. She closed her eyes and thought of a happy memory: celebrating Christmas with her family, the smell of parchment. Among the many images, one slipped in of Voldemort perched above her while they lay in bed. He looked down at her with heavy lids, smiling. His face came down and right when he kissed her, the Patronus came to life from her the tip of her wand.
Keeping her eyes closed, she whispered the message she wished to send, filling every word with love and yearning. It was a simple message, enough to let them know she was alright. Once finished, she flicked her wrist to release the light from the tip.
Then she opened her eyes. And her whole body went cold.
What she saw floating in the air was not her Patronus. At least, not what it used to be. Her corporeal Patronus took the shape of a playful otter. But this wasn't an otter.
It was a snake. And it shared an exact likeness of the Serpentine charm. About five feet in length, it slithered through the air illuminating the water with bright blue light. She watched it go with her heart in her stomach, feeling like the very last bit of innocence she once had was now gone.
How could this be? How has it changed? Was it the influence of the Serpentine charm? Or was it something else?
Patronus forms were known to change, but only if the caster had experienced some kind of emotional upheaval. Particularly…falling in love.
Her snake slithered through the air, over the water, up the shore, and into the forest. But right as it went through the three line, its blue light lit up a face hidden in the bushes.
Harmony started and gripped her wand tight.
"Who's there?" she shouted into the darkness.
At first, nothing. Then the bushes shook and a figure stumbled out into the clearing. It was Barty, but he wasn't alone. A couple—man and woman—came out after him. Both appeared to be Barty's age, and all three of them were dreadfully drunk. They laughed at her wide-eyed look. The couple then started stripping off all their clothes and with whoops of glee, they splashed into the water.
Her body was tense, preparing itself for some kind of fight. But her Serpentine charm remained soothing as it slithered over her skin. They posed no threat to her. So Harmony sat on the shore, tucking her legs beneath her, and watched them. Barty collapsed into the rough sand beside her. He spread his legs before him and lounged back on one elbow. She could tell by the way his eyes had trouble focusing on her that he was intoxicated.
"I left the party so I could get away from you drunkards," Harmony said, watching as the couple pushed each other behind the curtain of the waterfall.
He shrugged one shoulder, his head rolled. "We lost interest in the other trollops."
"So you followed me instead."
He snorted with laughter then drowned it in his hip flask. After a swig he said, "Not that I'm calling you a trollop—ah, damn. That came out wrong." He bowed his head but lost balance off his elbow and his head fell into her lap. "Apologies, my brave, benevolent, beautiful Lady."
She wove her fingers into his filthy, mangy hair. Then she snatched it up, lifted, and dumped his head on the ground.
"Thank you, Lady," he slurred with his face in the dirt.
The couple was no longer in sight. The mist and the curtain of water flowing off the cliff face concealed them. Harmony looked over at the tree line where her Patronus had disappeared to, as it now made its way to her parents' home in London.
"Barty?"
He grunted, jerking his head up off the ground.
"What shape of animal does Voldemort's Patronus take?"
He breathed out heavily and she could smell sour ale on his breath. "Hell if I know. I've never seen it. Don't know if anyone has."
"Why is that?"
"Well, he's never needed one, has he? All the dark creatures it protects you against are already under our control." He sniffed. "I don't even know what my Patronus is. But that's for a different reason. You know, you hear rumors. One of my fellow Death Eaters tried to cast one but only maggots poured out the end, started eating him alive."
"That's horrible!"
"It was hilarious!"
Harmony ignored his manic laughter, looking out on the water shimmering in the moonlight. As he lapsed into silence, she pondered. Maybe no one knew what Voldemort's Patronus was, but she figured—given his obsession with being a descendent of Salazar Slytherin—it would be a snake. And now hers was a snake as well.
"What I'm so curious about is," said Barty, perching himself back up on an elbow, "why you're not cuddling up to Voldemort right now. It's getting late. I'm sure he's missing his favorite little bed-warmer."
Harmony heard something strange in his voice. He almost sounded annoyed. She looked down at him beside her; the expression on his face was hard as stone.
"There is trouble in paradise, isn't there?" he continued. "You two are having a lover's tiff."
She looked away and gave a half-shrug. "All couples have arguments. He sees doing things one way. And I see doing it another. He wants me to use Unforgivable curses against the followers—"
"But you can't," he finished, "because…because you're just so good, aren't you? I'll bet you don't have one wrathful bone in your body. So unlike Voldemort. How can you stand it? How can you stand him? Why do you even stay?"
"I have no choice. I must stay at his side—"
Barty swore violently at her, making her flinch.
"Of course you have a choice." The stone-hard look in his face eased and he smiled at her. "Just like I chose to make you mine."
Harmony clicked her tongue at that. "Even though he would kill you the second I told him you've ever touched me."
Barty threw a hand up in the air. "Exactly!"
She scoffed lightly. "I don't know why I haven't told him already."
"Of course you know. You're a clever witch. You don't reveal my lustful intentions towards you to our Dark Lord because deep, deep down in that sensuous body of yours…you want me."
That actually made her laugh.
Barty's smile widened. "It's the truth. Isn't it?"
"Far from it."
"Ah, come on."
"You know," she said, glowering down at him, "I used to feel threatened by you. But now I see I never had reason to. You're absolutely helpless."
He held up an index finger. "But not hopeless."
"Get off it. I don't like you."
"When did liking each other have to matter?"
She stood up and wiped sand off her dress. "Do yourself a favor, Barty, and find yourself a girlfriend. Preferably one that can keep you in line and out of my hair."
He grabbed her hand as she turned to leave. "I've got plenty of women."
"Then choose one of them!"

"But I'm not in love with them."
They stared at each other for a long time. All the humor was gone from his face again. His sweaty hand gripped her so hard it hurt. Everything except the roaring of the waterfall was silent; even the couple's whoops of glee muted.
Harmony shook him off. "You're drunk, Barty," she said. "If you really loved me, you wouldn't be so cruel."
"I'm cruel?" he said bitterly. "I only learned from the best."
She knew he was talking about Voldemort. "You don't know him like I do."
He startled her by jumping to his feet. He took a few drunken, awkward steps to the side, but eventually righted himself. Harmony stood firmly, anticipating an attack.
"I knew how he'd react if he found out you'd failed to punish me."
"What?" She took a couple steps away. He was standing too close.
"That's right," he said smugly. "Earlier, when I saw how happy you two were—holding each other, laughing—I figured 'well, he must not know what happened.' So do you know what I did? I sent that man over to enlighten our Dark Lord."
Harmony gaped at him. Then she remembered at the party in the recreational tent; while she was dancing, she saw Barty talking with that mousy man. Barty had given him something. Now she put the pieces together.
Her voice was low and breathy when she forced out the words. "You…you paid him to tell Voldemort I'd failed to punish you?"
He pushed his face in close. "That's right. And I was there when it happened, hiding in the crowd." He gave a terse laugh. "You should've seen your face."
"No."
"That's right, I did."
A fiery hot anger boiled up inside of her. She pushed her hands into his chest as hard as she could and shouted, "Barty! NO! How could you?" She pushed again and he nearly stumbled back into the sand. "Why did you do that?"
"I was doing you a favor!"
"How do you call that a favor?"
"Because I know what a good little angel you are," he said derisively, "but he doesn't. The sooner he understands how unfit you are to have the Serpentine charm, the better it will be for everyone."
Harmony spun around, unable to stand the sight of him. When she turned back, she gripped her hair to keep herself from punching him in the face. "Have you made it your life's goal to destroy my relationship with Voldemort?"
"I am faithful to the Dark Lord. Hell, I used to be his most loyal follower…but then you came into the picture. And he just had to have you, didn't he?" Barty took a wide step closer. He still wavered a little on his feet, but all the yelling sobered him. "I'd be a better man for you than him. I know the real you. You wouldn't have to pretend around me."
"So that's it then," she said, her voice broken in anger. "You don't really care about who has the Serpentine charm or anything. You're just jealous!"
"At least I won't force you to kill," he said, and his black eyes flickered down to her pouting lips. He abruptly leaned in to kiss her, but Harmony dodged his eager mouth and pulled out her wand.
"Don't touch me!" she cried. "Don't even talk to me. I don't want to see your face again. Do you understand?" She made a threatening motion with her wand. "If you try anything with me ever again, I will hurt you."
Barty looked like he was ready to challenge that, but Harmony turned and fled before he could even try. She left him standing there with a look of betrayal on his face. Escaping the clearing, the forest welcomed her into its shadows. She dodged between the trees—heart racing, breathing heavily—knowing full well that that wasn't going to be the last time she saw Barty. But for now…there was only one place she needed to be.
The tent in the forest was lit up like a beacon. Its warm yellow light welcomed her, and she could already feel the warmth of the fire blazing inside. Before pulling back the tent flap, she stopped and took a deep breath. Sweat trickled down her brow, and she wiped it. Once she stepped inside, the harsh words they'd exchanged wouldn't matter anymore. They would embrace and apologize and kiss like nothing had happened. That was all she wanted in that moment.
But when she burst into the tent, full of anticipation and expectancy, she was sorely disappointed at what she saw. No one was inside. She checked the bed; nope. She looked in their living area; no one. The fire was still blazing—as he always liked it to be—but no person was there to enjoy its warmth. Harmony stood in the middle, looking around the lonely space forlornly.
He probably left in case she decided to come back; he still wanted to be alone.
She plopped down on a velvet cushion in the living area, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying. After a minute, she took a few bites of fruit off the food platter left from earlier. An hour slipped by—maybe two—but still no Voldemort. It came to the point where she started to worry about him. It was silly, really. It wasn't like anything bad could happen to him; he could take care of himself. But still…she worried.
Her eyes grew heavy and she nodded off once or twice. Finally she stood up, stretching her arms over her head, and yawned. She had to accept that there was nothing she could do. If Voldemort wanted to be alone, then so be it; she would be here when he was ready to talk.
Stripping down to her underclothes, Harmony laid down in their bed. Despite the warm temperature inside the tent, she enveloped herself in the blankets. Both hers and Voldemort's scent mingled in the sheets. Something musky and sweet at the same time. She laid her head on his pillow, took a deep breath, and felt comforted.
She fell asleep to the smell of him all around her.
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Serpentine Series