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Prisms of Darkness	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 34497 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Many thanks to my sister for beta-ing for me! Special thanks to cosettex and Nerys! The smut scenes in this, and especially the next, chapter probably wouldn't have been written without them. ;) Many, many thanks to those of you who've read and especially DonnaNoir23 for reviewing! DonnaNoir23: LOL, well, this was actually posted on FF.net before, and I wanted all the chapters to be posted up to the same spot before I post a new chapter, so ... Hope you enjoy this new chapter and thanks for the compliment!
Chapter 9
Her eyes slowly fluttered open and met with his. She wasn't overly surprised to find him infuriated, although it still made her wary.

"I know," she whispered, her face still flushed from their kiss. "I know that ... they will never believe me. But I ... I ..."

"But you still choose to believe them—you still lie to yourself, thinking that they will accept you once you helped them overturn me," he finished for her, his voice eerily calm.

"I didn't know that they were going to find this place!" she argued. "I didn't even know they were coming here!"

"Perhaps," he conceded before smiling mockingly. "But," he placed a finger under her chin and tilted it upwards until she looked directly into his eyes, "you cannot deny the fact that you've had thoughts of vanquishing me."

She opened her mouth, but closed it again without saying anything. Well ... that really depended on when he was talking about. For months now, she hadn't even thought about rebelling against him, let alone wanting him dead, which was why she constantly felt guilty towards the people from the Light side who had died during the war—especially Harry and Ron. Many nights, she would wake up mid-sleep and stare out the window until the sunrise because of that guilt.

Apparently, however, Lord Voldemort interpreted her silence differently. He narrowed his eyes and curled up his hand until he grabbed her chin. Her forehead creased from the more than necessary force he was exerting on her, though she stared back at him stubbornly.

As his lips pressed into a thin line, she quickly opened her mouth to explain.

"I haven't had thoughts of ... leaving you ever since ..." she trailed off before continuing. "But you’re expecting me to betray my friends."

His lips curled into a vile smile. "You belong to me, Hermione."

"Because I choose to be," she replied, promptly wiping the smirk off his face. "But that doesn’t mean that I’m renouncing everything that I am."

"It doesn’t matter if it was because your choice—"

"No," she interrupted him, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It does matter. If it wasn’t my choice, I wouldn’t feel any regret and can blame everything on the lack of choice. Because it is my choice, I can’t blame anyone or anything for any consequences."

"In other words, you're regretting your choice," he concluded.

"I—" she paused in her words.

She couldn't deny that there were times when she did question her choice, but downright regretting it ... that thought had never crossed her mind.

He grabbed and roughly pulled her up to standing position.

"But why should I care if a filthy, despicable being like yourself regretted your choice?" he hissed.

She clenched her hands into fists, determined not to let his words hurt her. He was angry, so naturally, anything that came out of his mouth was aimed to make her upset.

"It's only predictable that someone with such a disgusting background would betray those who had been generous to them," he continued, his face contorting in anger.

Hermione nearly snorted, but refrained from doing so, trying her best to hold back her tongue and letting his anger run its course. It was easier said than done, however, since it seemed like he had his mind set on provoking her.

"I should be surprised that it hadn't happened earlier," he sneered, "since what else can come out of dirt? Unlike pure-bloods such as Bella, who was and still is faithfully loyal to me."

Her face paled momentarily, before irritation colored them rouge.

"Yes, she is oh so very faithful," she replied sarcastically before she could even think about stopping herself—nor did she wanted to, "which is why she went behind your back and captured someone who was staying in your mansion, someone who you've specifically demanded was off-limits to them. Extremely loyal now, isn't she? Or are you going to tell me that she kidnapped me under your orders? She seemed rather worried about you finding out that I wasn't dead yet.

"And Peter Pettigrew? Or is he going to be registered as a Muggle-born overnight now?" she asked. She would've crossed her arms over her chest if she could, but given her current position, she settled with just rolling her eyes. She completely ignored how his face was now coldly impassive which strongly contrasted with how tumultuous his eyes were. "Or did you 'accidentally' give him the wrong silver hand and it strangled him when he was displaying the ultimate act of faithfulness and loyalty by letting Harry go?"

"And I'm very impressed by how very loyal Lucius Malfoy is. Of course, he's only loyal for as long as it suits him, as long as his position of power is not being threatened. But who cares? Oh, and his family. We all know how important that is." She rolled her eyes upwards as if she was thinking deeply. "They are all in your inner circle, aren't they? Surely you thought they were at least useful and loyal enough to you to get there. Let's not forget that Professor Snape was part of it, too."

"So incredibly useful, always giving you information about the Order," she continued, not noticing the changes in the Dark Lord's expression. "Did it ever occur to you that he's giving information to you on Dumbledore's orders now, did it? He was such an excellent Occlumens, and you've never even thought about the possibility that he was successful in Occluding his mind?"

Although she didn't get a chance to find out from Harry about Snape's whole story, she had a hunch that the memories that the he'd left Harry were definitely not about tea time with Lord Voldemort.

"Never wondered why your plans always got foiled last minute now, did you? So obviously, you've never even thought about the possibility that Professor Snape might've been spying for Professor Dumbledore and had successfully hidden that fact from you." She snorted. "Did you really think that they were the only ones? Pray tell, how many more traitors do you still have, walking around and waiting for you to slip? Or are you mercifully waiting for them to show you their true colors when disaster strikes and it's far too late for amends?"

It was only after she stopped talking that she noticed how suspiciously quiet he had been throughout her entire monologue. Staring at his face right now, she was suddenly very aware of how very angry he was, causing her to bite her lower lip. She had definitely spoken too much.

Digging his fingers into her arm until she winced from the pain, he threw her on the floor and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at her, noticing the look of fear that flashed over her face with savage satisfaction. It had been a while since he had last tortured her, let alone use that curse on her, but clearly, she still remembered the pain.

"Crucio."

He pronounced each syllable deliberately, making sure she heard every single one of it. As her screams bounced off the walls, he closed his eyes and relished at the sound. He opened his eyes again seconds later and held the curse on her, circling around her while doing so, much like a snake coiling around a struggling victim.

"Do you know how spoils of war and traitors are treated, my little Mudblood?" he asked quietly, as if he wasn't currently holding a curse on her at the moment. "I suppose you wouldn't know. After all, you were locked up in my mansion for the last seven years."

He finally stopped, watching her as she stayed on the floor, panting and sweating. He reached down, grabbed her hair, and pulled her up, causing her to yelp in pain. He smiled, yet his eyes had a red glint to it, signifying his anger.

"No, you don't, because I've been much too kind to you," he hissed.

His breath brushed against her ear and the curve of neck, causing gooseflesh to erupt across her skin, but his words ignited her anger again—did he still think that she was a bloody traitor? She was about to say something in return when he tugged on her arm, pulling her against his body.

"Then I shall show you," he said.

With a pop, they Disapparated from the secret house.

-----

A thick aroma of incense immediately filled Hermione's nose, rushing straight into her veins, and her body relaxed, more than it should after being held under the Cruciatus and after Apparation. Not to mention the fact that she was still furious at him, which made the whole situation even more illogical. She couldn't help but suddenly notice just how perfect his features were. If he wasn't holding on to her arms in a death grip, she really, really wanted to run her hands over his eyes, nose, and lips.

"Let's start with level one," he whispered.

His breath blew against her face and she nearly closed her eyes and sighed. The senses on her face seemed to be heightened for some reason. He turned her around, letting her see the other occupants in the room, and she barely heard his next words.

"If your little redheaded friend was still alive," he spoke, "this is the treatment she would've received."

The scene that was presented before her should've disgusted her, especially when the witch in question was someone she knew. Lavender Brown was kneeling on the floor; a Death Eater was—Hermione refused to believe Lavender was doing it willingly—raping her while four other naked Death Eaters watched on the side. But somehow, Hermione could only focus on how Voldemort's arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her in his embrace.

"It's a pity Rabastan killed Ginevra before she got the punishment she should've received," he chuckled softly next to her ear, causing tremors to go through her body.

"My Lord—" the Death Eater in the room was about to stop in his activities but was stopped by a wave of Lord Voldemort's hand.

"Continue," he coldly ordered. He turned his focus back to Hermione. "You've known Miss Brown, have you not?" He gestured at the witch who was moaning loudly while the Death Eater did as he was told and continued.

Hermione swallowed and nodded, trying to focus on what he was saying. It must be the incense. There was something wrong with the incense.

"Linwood, Alden, Farnes, Okland, and Brewton were rather enamored with Miss Brown ever since they first saw her and are now ... sharing her," Voldemort told her, tightening his hold around her waist. "Of course, the young lady had been difficult for the first couple of years, since she was—" He paused and when he spoke again, it was with a tone of voice one would use for telling jokes. "—still very much in love with Mr. Weasley."

Her heart constricted at the mention of her former boyfriend, but only momentarily. Nowadays, the only feeling she felt when she thought about Ron was guilt, but she knew that there were some things that couldn't be fought, fate being one of them. Lord Voldemort had been destined to win, just like she had been destined to fall in love with the mortal enemy of most of the Wizarding World.

"I must admit that I am very surprised by how popular Mr. Weasley had been and still is, after his death," he continued to say, running his finger up her arm until it came in contact with her hair. He took a lock in his hand and twirled it around his finger. "Was it his looks?" He paused again as if he was contemplating on that thought. "Was it his sense of humor?" He raised an eyebrow. "It certainly wasn't because of his intelligence because from what I've heard, his brain capacity was barely the size of a pea."

With one move, he grabbed a huge chunk of her hair and pulled her head backwards, causing her to yelp, and she found herself staring into his eyes.

"Tell me, Hermione," he demanded, increasing the strength of his pull with each word he said and neglecting how she winced from the pain.

She had no answer for him, so she remained silent, and predictably, it only increased his irritation at her. But no more whimpers escaped from her mouth as he increased enough pressure on her waist to pain her—she was sure there would be bruises where his hand was placed right now.

"So defiant," he murmured, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

They stared at one another, the only sounds coming from Lavender and the Death Eater.

"Domitus!" Lavender screamed the name of the Death Eater, shocking Hermione.

"After two years, Miss Brown had learned to embrace her fate, to submit to her masters," Voldemort explained softly. "She understood who had won the war, who she should be submissive towards, and who should be the objects of her loyalty. Seven years ... seven years and you still haven't learned your place." He gazed at her mockingly. "Or perhaps I've underestimated you. Perhaps you do know Occlumency better than I'd given you credit for."
She stared at him, momentarily stunned by what he was insinuating.
"Don't understand what I'm saying? Or are you ... pretending again?"

Her jaws dropped open slightly. He was using her argument against her—he thought she was Occluding her mind against him.

"I should've known," he said, his voice lowering to a dangerous level. "Potter's Mudblood ... his cowardly sidekick's girlfriend ... and to believe that you've fallen in love with me," he said, mockery dripping from those last words.

"If I do—"

"Silence," he hissed, yanking her hair again. The pain on her scalp was more than enough to stop her in her words. "I am not interested in listening to excuses and lies, especially when the words had been influenced by outside means."

His words confirmed her suspicions, although she couldn't help but be curious about why aphrodisiacal incense would be used if Lavender had been willing. Her eyes flickered over to the witch.

"She's submissive ... yet, she's unhappy," Voldemort told her, as if he had read her mind, and maybe he had. "The pleasures are greatly decreased when the object is acting much like a frozen corpse. I might as well give them an Inferi instead of Miss Brown."

She didn't speak, not knowing how to respond, and she knew that explaining, right now, that she never had thoughts of getting him killed ever since she had been intimate with him would be fruitless. He would only brush it off as her mind being under influence.

A few minutes later, the Death Eaters behind her laughed, although she had no idea about what, since she hadn't been listening to their conversation nor did they speak loudly. She kept her eyes on Voldemort, her face flushed and her lips slightly parted.

"We still haven't seen where Mudbloods like you are supposed to be," he commented conversationally, as if he wasn't talking about a punishment. His lips curled into a falsely amicable smile. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. We haven't visited the half-bloods who'd stood up against me yet."

She felt the world swirl around as she felt a jerk in her stomach. Moments later, she found herself in a completely different environment. The smell of rotting flesh attacked her still overly sensitive senses. Her stomach lurched and she leaned forward on Voldemort's arm, dry heaving.

"My ... apologies," he said softly. "Perhaps I shouldn't have brought you here right after letting you inhale those incenses." He chuckled, negating any regret he had expressed in his words and showcasing just how much he enjoyed her discomfort. "But then again, you'd probably have the same reactions after you see what happen to Mudbloods."

She turned her head slightly, so that she could glare at him, but found that his eyes were looking forward. She swiveled her head around and found a group of men staring at the two of them in surprise.

"Have Greyback failed to teach you proper manners? Or should I speak to each and every one of you personally?" he said, his voice not much louder, but the authoritative tone was undeniable.

Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of the werewolf. If half-bloods were condemned to this kind of fate, she wondered what kind of life Muggle-borns were living through.

"My Lord," they chorused disharmoniously as they scattered to kneel to the Dark Lord.

"Greyback's in his chambers, I assume?" Voldemort demanded.

One of the more daring werewolves answered, "Yes, my Lord."

"Excellent." A sadistic smirk appeared on Voldemort's face.

Dragging Hermione towards the exit of the cavern, he told her in a lower voice, "Aren't you curious about what you're about to see, Hermione? After you've seen Miss Brown, aren't you curious if one of your classmates is currently lying underneath Greyback?"

That thought itself sickened Hermione and she nearly dry heaved again.

"This is inhumane," she declared, her eyes widening as she witnessed a young man—she swore she had seen him while she was back at Hogwarts—chained to one of the walls of the cavern. A werewolf eyed him hungrily while licking the blood off one of his wounds, which suspiciously looked like injuries from whips or claws.

"I never said it wasn't," he conceded, amusement laced throughout his words. "What did you expect? A mansion, a couple of house elves, a handful of Galleons, and a position of power in the Ministry for all of those who had stood up to me?" He laughed.

A scream startled her for a second before she looked back at him.

"No, but it didn't have to be ..." She closed her eyes.

Like Lavender ... like that boy ... and whoever it was who'd just screamed ...

"I understand the danger they might impose upon your reign, but ... you could've imprisoned them, exiled them ... anything is preferable to ... to this," she shook her head slowly.

"Oh?" he questioned, the ends of his lips curling upwards again. "Is that so? I'll remember to keep that in mind."

They stopped in front of the entrance of another cave. Another bloodcurdling scream echoed through the air while the sounds of a cross between a bark of laugh and growling intertwined with it.

Hermione could feel the ends of her hair stand up.

"Take a guess who's inside," Voldemort said, turning around to gaze at Hermione.

A grin appeared on his face when he noticed how her face had turned pale white, and his eyes flickered over to her right hand which was hovering above the holster where she kept her wand.

"If you hex him, I will give his slave to another werewolf, and you will only worsen her situation," he warned quietly, successfully stopping her from thoughts about hexing Greyback the moment she entered the cave.

However, when she saw the look of agony on Susan Bones's face, a wave of anger and disgust washed over and made her sway on her feet. A bed was placed against one of the cave wall's, which striked Hermione as strange—she had thought that the werewolf would've slept on the floor. Susan was lying on top of it, naked, while Greyback had his mouth clamped onto her shoulder and his nails dug into her arm, piercing the skin. Blood leaked out of her wounds, staining the mattress. Hermione's stomach churned.

Her hand flew back to where it was before, but unfortunately, Voldemort seemed to have known that she would something like that, since he gripped onto her arm before she could pull out her wand.

"Insolent witch," he growled lowly, "I will not tolerate another one of your stunts. I will immobilize you if you try to do something unintelligent again."

Greyback lifted his head from his prey, revealing the chewed up flesh there, and Hermione could clearly see what suspiciously look like Susan's shoulder bone.

"My Lord," he greeted, licking his lips and cleaning off the traces of blood there.

He released Susan's arm and, in the process, scratched off pieces of skin and flesh, causing the girl to whimper in pain.

"Continue," Voldemort ordered again.

A growl left the throat of Greback and a grin appeared on hi's face. He turned around and this time, he bit into Susan's other shoulder.

Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes, digging her hands into her palm again.

A hand suddenly clutched onto her chin, forcing her head to tilt upwards. She opened her eyes.

"I'm not allowing you to escape from this, Hermione Granger. You are to watch every single minute of this, and if you don't," his lips curved into a sneer, "I promise you, I will make them suffer, more than what they are going through right now." He pushed her face towards the bed again. "Now continue watching. Perhaps you might learn a thing or two about actual servitude."

Greyback's hand was traveling up and down Susan's body now, leaving wedges behind, as he took her. Her face was wet—although Hermione had no idea if it was from sweat or tears—as if she had just walked out of the rain.

Suddenly, Susan's eyes alighted on hers. Hermione unconsciously took a step back, right up against Voldemort—she hadn't noticed when he had moved behind her. She felt as if someone stabbed her heart with a sharp item when she realized she couldn't do anything to help her classmate.

"Please ... please make him stop," Hermione whispered, grabbing a hold of his arm, but not daring to take her eyes off Greyback and Susan, in fear of what might happen to the Hufflepuff.

"Does it make you sick, Hermione? Does it make you hate me, for bringing this upon your friends? Or does it just simply give you another reason to hate me?"

Throughout the whole time, Susan continued sobbing, gazing into Hermione's eyes, as blood poured from her wounds. The Hufflepuff's face was pale white from the loss of blood. Hermione supposed that Susan was kept alive by magic since there was no way one could lose so much blood and continue to live.

"Please ... please ... please ..." Hermione shook her head.

It hurt her worse than when she was placed under the Cruciatus.

"Answer me, Hermione," he ordered quietly, snaking his arm around her waist. "Do you regret 'saving' me from those Order members, your friends? Do you regret giving yourself to me?"

She continued shaking her head.

"Liar," he hissed. He grabbed her face, turned her around, and forced her to look at him. "You feel disgusted with everything that's happening. You hate me for allowing your classmate be raped. You hate me for not doing anything about it.

"Are you going to turn your wand towards me if the Order members were to Apparate in right now? Will you still stand in front of me?" He smiled sarcastically, doubt written clearly all over his face. He glanced at Greyback and Susan before looking back at Hermione. A touch of wickedness was added to his smile. "Ready to see what happens to Mudbloods?"

The color of her face turned to a ghostly shade of greenish white.

Before she could so much as protest, he had already Apparated them to a different location.

Laughter and jeers immediately reached her ears when they reached their destination. A chorus of "My Lord" echoed through the room the moment she steadied herself. Voldemort gave them a nod, although he didn't look away from her, and the sounds of chattering filled the room once more.

"If you so much as touch your wand, I will have Miss Brown and Miss Bones taken here. Immediately," he threatened coldly, his face expressionless.

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine, and he raised an eyebrow, amused. Without saying anything, he turned her around so that she could see the rest of the occupants of the room.

She wished she could run. She wished she was back in Voldemort's room, safely hidden under the blankets. Anywhere, but here.

Some of the Death Eaters were looking at Lord Voldemort curiously, wondering why their master had suddenly decided to come here. Others were ogling at Hermione and nudging one another, followed by lust-filled chuckles. Apparently, they thought that Hermione was going to be given to them.

However, that wasn't what frightened Hermione the most.

Hannah Abbott's hands were tied at the wrists, the end of the rope tied to a hook on the ceiling. Her face was hollow, as if she hadn't eaten for days. Lines of red decorated her body—presumably from whippings— some of the gashes still bleeding. And what frightened Hermione the most wasn't the fact that Hannah was sandwiched between two men or the amount of people touching her.

There was no life in Hannah's eyes—dead, and even more horrific than the look in a corpse's eyes. She seemed like a paper cutting of who Hermione had once been acquainted with. Gone was the sweet smile that would appear on the girl's face when she was delighted with something; gone was the liveliness that sparkled in the windows to her soul.

No sounds were emitted from Hannah's mouth as new wounds were made to her body. She didn't so much as whimper or protest while the men thoroughly violated her body. She didn't even wince when different men took the place of previous men in front of and in back of her.

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, resisting the urge to go on a killing spree, because she knew Voldemort would keep his promise and Hannah's fate would be bestowed on Lavender and Susan, too. She had thought that she had seen the worst with Susan, but Hannah's situation thoroughly shook her.

"When Miss Abbott was first captured, she was given to one of the lower ranked Death Eaters," Voldemort's voice resounded in her ears. "She tried to escape so many times ... Unfortunately, that was precisely what excited Nethery."

Hermione was terrified about what she might be hearing about next, but she couldn't stop herself from listening intently to each word that fell from his lips.

"He was particularly fond of the whip."

Her eyes fell on the red marks on Hannah's body and felt her heart constrict, feeling extremely sorry for the girl.

"Every time she escaped, he would whip her," Voldemort continued to say. "Until three months after she was given to him. She killed him." He paused, allowing her to digest that piece of information before continuing. "I'd imagine that it was a rather satisfying experience for Miss Abbott, killing the person who'd tortured her." He placed the hand that had been supporting his chin on his knee and leaned forward. "Will you feel the same satisfaction when you avenge your friends, Hermione?"

She wanted to scream, but she was afraid that it would only excite the men more, since it was obvious to her that each and every one of them were sadists.

She knew. She knew all along that men and women across the country were being tortured for standing up to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. However, what she had seen in the last seven years had been limited to strangers. She had thought that everyone she knew had died, but apparently, she knew nothing.

"Don't you wish dear Harry won the war?" Voldemort asked her softly, stroking her hair as if they were merely chatting. "Don't you wish that he cast a well-aimed Killing Curse towards me in that final battle? Then, perhaps none of this would've happened." He laughed, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Tell me how much you hate me, Hermione."

She turned her head around, until she could look at him clearly.

She couldn't. It disgusted her to no ends that even after seeing the things he was allowing, she could not bring herself to hate him.

"Have I given you enough reasons to watch with satisfaction if your friends ever get the chance to capture and execute me?"

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him dying.

His eyes never left hers. Seconds later, he pressed her body towards him and they Apparated back to his mansion. He threw her on the bed once they reached there, and it was only then that tears started to fall down her cheeks.
"Prepare yourself," he ordered.
She wiped her tears away before looking at him, not wanting to let him see her weakness. He stood sideways, with the fire behind him so she couldn't clearly see his expression.
"I want you to be there when I speak to your ... friends from the Order."
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Prisms of Darkness