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Two Steps From Hell	By : Ssserpensssotia Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 30375 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No profit is being made. No copyright infringement is intended. Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: For me, Voldemort is more dangerous when he looks human—beauty gives him additional power. Tom Riddle was a very handsome young man, after all. And I'm, probably, shallow. I like him pretty :)
Dear Ice Empress, thank you so much for your kind review! I am so very glad you feel what I want you to feel and I hope it stays that way :)
Your comments and reviews are highly appreciated. I am not asking for reviews to strike my ego, but because I want to become a better writer. And because I am honestly interested in your opinion.
This story has now a book cover thanks to the amazing Ibuzoo! :)
Beta: amazing Serpent In Red
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Two Steps From Hell
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Chapter Nine
One month later.
Hermione put her bag on the table, and with a sigh, she dropped herself into her favorite chair.
She was so tired!
While the University was even better than in the books, it was also harder than Hermione had ever imagined.
For the first semester, she had only Archimancy, Transfiguration, and Charms to study, but the amount of books she had to read and the level of the lectures were so high, that Hermione, for the first time in her life, was not ahead of the studied topics—she was almost behind.
With eyes closed, Hermione kicked her shoes off and stretched her legs.
The weather was hot and moist, and Hermione had never been more thankful for the Cooling Charms.
Had it not been for them, she was sure her apartment would resemble a Finnish sauna—hot, steaming, and impossible to stay long in. Her apartment was spacious with one bedroom, a study, a huge bathroom, and a large and airy lounge.
The first time Hermione had seen it, her only thought was that it was her dream come true. The apartment was exactly as she would have chosen herself.
The windows were facing the sunny side, allowing Hermione the most gorgeous view of the narrow water channels and the old, but so perfect, buildings that stood on both sides of the main river. The sun was reflected on the water, and Hermione pondered for a second if maybe she should go for a swim. It was June and the temperatures in the whole Europe were abnormally high. Magical Venice—a hidden magical part directly in the center of Muggle Venice—had the most beautiful beaches with soft, white sand and slightly curling, light waves.
Hermione rubbed her nose as she looked at the clock—there were still two hours available before Ginny was supposed to come over using the Order enchanted Portkey that would immediately transfer the owner away from Hermione in case the Horcrux woke up—and clicking her tongue, Hermione retrieved her swimming suit from her bedroom and quickly changing into a light dress—her university uniform was just too heavy and warm—she closed the door to her apartment and slowly walked to the beach, enjoying every second of it.
Venice was the most beautiful city Hermione had ever seen—magical or Muggle.
The warm breeze picked up a strand of her long hair that had fallen from the tight bun and twirled it in the air before letting it fall onto her face, tickling her nose.
With a smile, Hermione let her hair loose, allowing the wind to play with it like it wished.
Today was a good day.
xxx
"Yeah, and that's all there is to tell, " Ginny finished with a sigh as she eyed the delicious food on the table. She had already eaten more that she had imagined was possible and her stomach felt so full that Ginny could only eat with her eyes now. Or she'd explode.
"Is there anything I could do?" Hermione was sitting opposite of Ginny, who was now lying on the sofa, reminding her of a satisfied cat with a belly full of tasty food.
"Thank you, Hermione. But you know my mom. She won't take the money no matter how you ask." The redhead had her feet on the armrest and her head on three huge pillows. "She says we're not a charity and we'll manage on our own. Don't ask me how."
Hermione leaned back into her comfortable bright-red chair and took a sip from her wineglass.
One month had passed and nothing really changed.
The Weasleys were struggling to meet the ends as none of them could find a stable job. Ron was still in a coma and Harry was slowly making progress. Remus and Tonks came often, but mostly, they stayed with Andromeda, who helped to take care of their little Teddy.
After the start of her studies, Hermione had been to the Burrow three times—two Saturdays and one Sunday.
On her second visit to the Burrow, Harry was conscious and they had talked for long hours—discussing everything that had happened and would happen. While Hermione had been initially very scared to face her best friend, it went better than she had expected. She still felt as guilty as one could feel, but the guilt wasn't suffocating her every passing moment now.
Harry didn't blame her for what had happened in the Forest, nor was he angry or suspicious about her studying. Harry was Harry and Hermione—not for the first time—thanked the heavens for her friends.
Everyone from the Order had talked to her privately and every one of them had reassure Hermione that she had their full support. They were proud of her.
She didn't know what she would do if she didn't have their support.
It had been one month since Hermione had started her studies at the Illuminus University and she did not even notice the time fly.
She was so busy all the time. She had so much to learn—when Voldemort had told her that it would not be a walk in the park for her, he hadn't been joking.
During the first week, Hermione had barely found the time to sleep, as the level of studies was way above OWLs and Hermione had to give her all just to keep up.
She was studying all the time and her library was now full with enormous tomes on different aspects of magic.
At first, Hermione was very hesitant to use the money from her new vault—provided by Voldemort, of course—but as time went by, she simply had to accept the fact that if she did not want to fail, she had to use the Dark Lord's money for books, test materials, and basically everything—her food and clothes included.
With her parents Obliviated, Hermione had no income, and while at first she wanted to take a part-time job, after the first week, Hermione had to admit that there was no way she could study and work simultaneously.
"What is that?" Ginny's curious tone made Hermione stop her musings ,and she looked at her friend who was now holding a folded piece of paper, reading silently.
"Oh … Those are the questions that I have," Hermione answered a bit sheepishly. There were a minimum fifty questions written there and she had never imagined just how shallow her knowledge of magic had been.
"Whoa … What is the difference between Amperia Motus and Amperia Vileo when using a sub-category of Arithmancy defined and Charms specified syllable modification?" Ginny read all the while producing gagging noises. "Is that English?"
Hermione smiled at her friend's antics and offered the redhead more wine.
Giggling, Ginny took the goblet before reading one more question.
"Why do you need to use a combination of 'i-u' instead of 'a-u' when creating a Rune with the help of level BA Transfiguration spells? What language is it? I cannot even read the question without breaking my brain-cells!" Ginny exclaimed while waving the paper in front of the now also giggling Hermione.
"And who are you going to ask all those questions? Your Transfiguration or Charms professors? Or them all?"
Ginny asked while helping herself with another glass of wine and only Hermione's silence made her look up.
"Hermione?"
Ginny tentatively got up from her couch and crouched near her friend.
"What's wrong? Did I say something stupid?" Her voice filled with concern as Hermione remained silently sitting in her chair, the wine goblet forgotten on the table.
"No, no, Ginny. You didn't do anything wrong," Hermione quickly assured the redhead before smiling a sad smile. "Those questions are not for my professors," she explained with eyes cast down and Ginny finally understood.
"They're for Him, aren't they?"
A silent nod.
Ginny pursed her lips before sitting on the armrest of the chair that Hermione occupied.
"How … how has he been treating you?"
With a deep breath, Hermione got up from the chair and beckoned Ginny to come with her.
Opening the doors to the balcony, Hermione stepped outside, enjoying the warm sun before leaning on the parapet.
"When I went to meet him that day—" Hermione looked at Ginny to see her nod in understanding. "—he had told me that if I have any questions study related, then I am free to ask him for help. He said that I can turn to him with any question—as long as it's logical and well thought—and if it concerns magic."
It was still hard for her to accept his help, but if she didn't, she'd be out of the University faster than one could say "I can do it on my own".
She needed Voldemort's knowledge and it was driving her mad.
"He always explains everything that is still unclear to me. I have to read and study on my own, but once a week, I can ask him anything study related and he—" Hermione was looking Ginny straight in the eyes. "—helps. He is the Dark Lord who kills even for breathing the wrong way in his presence, but he had never punished me. I don't know what's going on, Ginny." Hermione now had her head between her hands and was breathing heavily.
Either the Dark Lord was bipolar or he had something very unpleasant in his sleeve.
Voldemort would reinforce the Occlumency shield every three days when Hermione visited him in Malfoy Manor. He would take her questions—they had to be written down!—and after crossing out at least half of them—he actually accused her of being lazy once!—the Dark Lord would go through them all until there was nothing left unclear.
They had never talked about anything that wasn't study-related and Hermione did not know what to think.
Laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, Ginny said quietly, "Me neither. But whatever it is, just be happy he doesn't torture you. "
Harry still could not walk after the Dark Lord's torture session—his back was damaged, but luckily not permanently—and Hermione had to agree with Ginny's accretion.
"By the way, tell me, does he still wears his hood up all the time?" Ginny was now sitting on the railings, her back to the gorgeous view and her now twinkling eyes looking at Hermione's crouched form.
"And the gloves," Hermione's good mood seemed to have returned as she heard Ginny giggle in response.
"Probably messed up with some Dark Arts ritual and now looks even worse. That is, if that's possible at all!"
Hermione didn't try to hide her amused smile.
While she highly doubted Voldemort would mess up anything—he was an even bigger perfectionist and know-it-all than her!—Hermione decided not to voice her thoughts.
It was true that the Dark Lord had been wearing a black robe with a spacious hood that had covered all his face ever since her lesson on the cliff; the black leather gloves were also fully covering his hands.
And while Hermione had been very curious as to what the Dark Lord had done with his looks now, she hadn't dared to ask.
Voldemort had told her the first time she came to him after the cliff "lesson" that there would be no talking except for the topic of her studies and Hermione knew better than to ask him why.
She still knew nothing about his reasoning for sending her to Illuminus and his choice of Spells Architect as her Mastery and Hermione could only guess.
She saw him every three days—the Mind Arts would start the next semester—and not once did the Dark Lord remove his hood, his cloak, or his gloves.
At first, it had been weird talking to a hood instead of those creepy red eyes on the ugly serpentine face, but with time, Hermione got used to it.
Now, if she had to be honest with herself, she started associating The Hood with her—dare she say it?—mentor, while the serpentine face belonged purely to Lord Voldemort.
"The Hood"—Hermione didn't doubt that the Dark Lord knew how she was addressing him when not in his presence—was calm, collected, and so very smart. He was so damn knowledgeable that it was sickening.
Know-It-All! Hermione had called him once in her mind while still in his presence and "Unlike some" was the only response. No Crucio, no mental lashing, just a small but correct jab.
"The Hood" had only several rules when they had their "study-session":
She had to be respectful.
As if she had a choice.
Not to ask stupid questions.
Not to ask questions that she already knew answers to.
It was hard to control herself sometimes, but Hermione did her best not to anger him.
Not to cheat.
She would never!
To write down all her questions and he would check them over once a week.
To send him all her test results.
So far, she had none and it was such a relief!
Not to be lazy and give her all.
Hermione Granger and lazy did not belong together!
The Dark Lord explained that as her Guardian, he would also supervise all her practical work and her mid-term projects.
So far, everything went well.
"The Hood" knew everything and his calm but sure manner in which he explained the unclear topics made Hermione silently ponder on the fact that he was the best teacher she had ever met.
And that wasn't good.
Only one month into her studying, Hermione wasn't scared of "the Hood" anymore, but she was very wary of the Lord Voldemort.
"How's the mini-Mort? Still silent?"
While Hermione had referred to the Horcrux as The Thing, Ginny had started calling it "Mini-Mort" and Hermione found herself in tears from laughing each time.
The Horcrux had been behaving so far, and Hermione had to say life looked better than she had expected.
"Yes," she replied while searching for something inside her bottomless bag.
Ginny had to leave already—seven o'clock in the evening!—as Molly did not wish for her only daughter to stay for a night with only a Horcrux-controlled friend as company in another city and Hermione tried to tell herself she understood.
And she had to go meet Voldemort.
Taking out a small bag filled with galleons, Hermione approached the now silent Ginny.
"No, Hermione, I cannot." The redhead had her lips pursed, and her eyes were downcast as Hermione silently offered the money.
"Ginny, please. Please take it. I cannot do anything else and I need to help, please." Hermione was now begging, and Ginny's face was red with embarrassment.
"It's His money, Hermione. I cannot," Ginny whispered while tightly hugging a now crying Hermione.
"You study hard, you study well, and then, when Harry is better and Ron is awake, we'll destroy You-Know-Who. Be strong!" Ginny was now crying, too, and Hermione hugged her friend harder.
"Be careful, Ginny. Tell Harry and everyone to be careful, too, promise? "
At Ginny's silent nod, Hermione added, "I'll come over soon" before Ginny touched her emergency Portkey that was hanging around her neck and was gone.
Taking a shower and dressing properly, Hermione took her synopsis and the folded paper filled with this week's questions and placed her wand into the wand-holster.
She did not need her wand to activate her Portkey.
Checking the time—three minutes to eight—Hermione licked her lips and concentrating on a snake's image in her mind, whispered the hated password to the ring.
"Morsmordre!"
That day it had taken Hermione only a few seconds to guess the password—what else would the Dark Lord choose?—and now every three days, she had to say it out loud in Parseltongue.
She didn't like it.
A minute later, Hermione felt the ring heat up, and then, she was gone.
xxx
Two months later.
Beginning of September
"It is not a failure!" Hermione's agitated but passionate voice filled the spacious oval room.
It was all his fault!
He did not have to provoke her; he didn't need to be so arrogant and stuck-up!
Maybe yes, she was just a student, and she had only started learning the true art of magic, but she wasn't stupid. She was a smart witch, and she had already started getting really appreciated by the professors. It had been so strange to have attention of professors during the lecture, to have someone appreciate that you wanted to learn and, in return, wanted to teach you.
It was a dream come true for Hermione's intellectual mind. And someone was now insulting it by calling her simple and dull!
Her practical Charms exam for the half-semester was now lying on the glass table between their chairs.
And it was a failure.
Or so Voldemort had said.
He said it was an amusing, but nonetheless a crushing failure.
He said she was a naïve little girl and she had a lot to learn if she wanted this "waste of magic" to function.
Was it a joke of sorts?
"When I say you're going to get a T for Troll for this hilarious little projects of yours, I mean it seriously, little girl."
"But sir, you have just seen it with your own eyes. Why is it a failure then?"
Hermione's voice was defiant, but she could not hold the hurt out of it.
"Is it because I am a Mudblood?"
Hermione was sure he was smiling now.
"Tell me, Miss Granger, what do you think about my decision to remove the Dark Arts from your curriculum?" His voice sounded intrigued and Hermione noted a hint of mockery.
What did his decision have to do with her project?
"I am … thankful for that, sir. I have no desire to study the Dark Arts." Hermione answered honestly.
Not like she could lie.
"And why is that, Miss Granger?" His voice now had a curious undertone, and Hermione wished for the millionth time that she could use their connection to decipher his emotions or at least see his eyes.
"Because the Dark Arts are gruesome, horrible and well … dark," Hermione answered stubbornly.
Maybe not all Dark Arts were so bad, but there was no way she'd study them.
"And that is the reason why you fail. Not because you're a Mudblood but because you're a hypocritical and prudish Mudblood," Voldemort said lightly as he rose from his seat and walked to the windows.
"I beg your pardon?" Hermione's voice had enough disbelief and incredibility for Voldemort to turn towards her as he laughed.
"Don't like the truth, do we?"
"I am not a hypocrite nor am I a prude!" Hermione voiced her inner outrage.
How dare he?
"Crucio."
As sharp, piercing pain took over her body, Hermione found herself thrashing on the floor under the most intense Torture Curse she had ever felt.
"That is not study-related." Voldemort walked over to her thrashing form on the ground, and as he lifted the curse, he placed his shoe-clad foot onto her cheek, pressing her head into the floor.
"Don't forget your place, little Mudblood." The shoe pressed harder, and Hermione was afraid that it might crush her cheekbones.
Still panting from the pain and the horrible pressure on her face, Hermione gasped for air.
"I dare because I am the Dark Lord. And you better not forget about it." The voice was cold and had a hissing quality to it, but it was still English. "And if you forget, it will be my pleasure to remind you."
Her lips were dry and Hermione tasted blood in her mouth.
Probably bit my tongue during the torture.
This was the first time the Dark Lord had raised his wand at her, and Hermione found herself hoping that it would also be the last time.
"I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you, Miss Granger—" The shoe-clad foot was removed from her face as the Dark Lord slowly walked back to his chair. "—but do try."
Hermione kept lying on the floor, her muscles and bones hurting like hell, making it impossible to get up.
"When you're done drooling on the floor, try the tea." Voldemort's voice was once again amused and mocking. "I find this selection to be simply delicious."
Holding her thoughts with an iron grip—otherwise, she'd spend the whole night under his curses—Hermione managed to bring her now heavy body on her knees and hands. She needed time to get up.
How am I going to attend my studies tomorrow?
"You're such a drama queen, Miss Granger."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she was almost gaping at the hooded figure of the Dark Lord.
Drama queen?!
"It's just one small Crucio. The Boy Wonder had the pleasure of enjoying it for many hours and you don't see him complaining, do you?"
Hermione's breath hitched as she tried not to voice her thoughts even in her mind, but it seemed that her outrage at the Dark Lord's carefree words was too powerful.
That bastard!
"Tsk, tsk, Miss Granger." Voldemort crossed his feet and his wand was now trained at her again. "Maybe the Cruciatus is not for your taste. Let's see if you react better to this."
Hermione braced herself and looked at Voldemort's wand tip that was now pulsating with bright blue light.
"Avergario."
Hermione waited for the pain to come and was deeply surprised when none appeared.
What was this spell supposed to do?
Hermione watched as Voldemort leaned back in his chair, and with his gloved hand, he picked up his cup of tea. He looked like he was enjoying himself.
Just as she was about to inform him that his spell had failed, Hermione found out she could not feel her body.
What?
It was almost like a Petrificus Totalus, but Hermione doubted that the Dark Lord would choose something as harmless as the Full Body-Bind Curse.
What did Avergario do? She had never heard of it before.
Suddenly, Hermione saw something move from the darkened corner of the room and glide towards her immobile figure.
With horrified eyes, she saw another hooded figure stop directly in front of her and then the hood was down.
Hermione was looking at herself—it could not be anyone else!—but her doppelganger's eyes were red with snake-like pupils and the face was exactly like Voldemort's—grey, serpentine, and no nose.
My God!
The only indication that Hermione hadn't mistaken the identity of this thing was her facial structure, the bushy hair that hung in dirty strands, and her own wand clasped tightly in the bone-white hand. Hermione wished to move away from the creature when its hand clasped her hair in a tight grip, and she found herself completely immobile. She could only watch.
"I killed Harry Potter!" Her serpentine face was illuminated with a horrible smile, showing her rotten but sharp, yellow teeth.
"I killed Won-Won!" A forked tongue appeared between the yellow teeth, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to move away from it, but a second later, she felt the tongue lick her cheek.
Shuddering inwardly in disgust, Hermione voiced her plea in her mind, knowing that it would be heard anyway.
'Please, stop.'
The Dark Lord made no move, as he simply sat there, watching her torture session.
She was sure he was smiling.
Her lips were suddenly bit by her doppelganger's sharp teeth, and Hermione would have vomited had it not been for the spell holding her immobile.
"Don't you dare ask our Lord about anything, you little piece of shit!" Her own eyes were staring at Hermione, their abnormal red color shining in the dim light; the voice was so deranged and fanatical that even Bellatrix Lestrange sounded normal compared to her.
Hermione wanted the Cruciatus instead of this.
"He's mine." The creature licked Hermione's lips with the forked tongue and then pushed it into her mouth, tasting her.
Hermione wasn't sure if it was possible to pass out from disgust, but she was very close to it.
"Only I can ask him. Only I can have him." The hissing coming out of its mouth was barely a whisper, so low and so passionate, and Hermione wanted to gag.
The creature's forked tongue kept moving inside her mouth, and Hermione felt the tears pool in her eyes, unable to fall down.
"He's my everything." The doppelganger finally removed the disgusting tongue from her mouth and moved closer to Voldemort, bowing so deep that its mutilated head was lying on the floor just before Voldemort's crossed feet.
'Please, stop!' Hermione screamed in her mind so loud that she felt the barrier vibrate for a second.
"Is something the matter, Miss Granger?" The Dark Lord was now laughing silently and Hermione knew that it was not the end.
The creature rose from its bowing position on the floor and started undressing before the seated figure.
Hermione could only watch in horror as her now naked doppelganger bowed again, standing on all fours.
"Only I am allowed to be fucked by him! Only I!" The serpentine face was twisted in a grimace of pure lust, desire, and unraveled fanaticism.
Hermione fought to breathe, but she was failing, as dark spots started to dance in front of her eyes. Hermione wished she'd pass out now.
"I am His! Only His!"
Hermione's mind was slowly shutting down, and through the fog of almost-unconsciousness, she heard Voldemort laugh.
"You truly are amusing, little Mudblood. And your Boggart is even more so."
Hermione saw her doppelganger—her Boggart!—disappear with a wave of the Dark Lord's wand, and she fell to the floor, her limbs trembling and tears blurring her vision.
It was her boggart!
Her biggest fear was …
Hermione choked on her tears and started coughing, her mind in shambles and her body trembling.
Hermione didn't even hear the Dark Lord get up from his chair when she saw two black polished shoes in front of her eyes.
Voldemort was now squatting before her, his leather-gloved hand holding her chin between a thumb and an index finger, making her look up at his hooded face.
"Your little project is a failure because you used Seratio and Vigela binding spells." His voice was silky and low as he slowly moved his thumb on her cheek.
What?
Hermione was still shivering from the horrible experience, and she could only stare at him, not even able to move her face from his gentle but firm grip.
Her mind still not fully recovered, Hermione thought why she couldn't use those two spells.
They were the most stable and powerful charm-binding spells!
"And what category of magic do they belong to?" His thumb was now making slow, sensual circles on her moist cheek.
Hermione wanted to crawl away from him, to not feel his touch—even through a glove—but found herself unblinkingly staring at the place where his eyes would be under the hood.
Category? They were just binding spells!
"Seratio and Vigela are considered to be Dark Arts, Miss Granger."
Hermione wanted to deny it, to say he was wrong, but somehow, she felt he wasn't lying.
"And since you so furiously deny the power that is the Dark Arts, you will not be using them at all."
His thumb lingered on her bottom lip, and Hermione fought with her instincts to not just bite him.
"You can try, little girl. But don't cry when you will be forced to pay for your actions." Voldemort's other hand wiped the tears from under her lashes, and Hermione swallowed her turmoil.
"Redo your little project. I won't accept it before you replace those two spells." With that, the Dark Lord's leather gloved fingers pinched her cheek painfully before releasing her completely.
A second later, a silver goblet—her project!—landed in her lap.
"You are dismissed."
Before Hermione could say anything, she was pulled by her navel and Portkeyed away.
xxx
A/N I'll be time-jumping now, not every chapter, but I seriously don't think you want to read about every single day in details. I'm open to suggestions ;)
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Two Steps From Hell