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Prisms of Darkness	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 34496 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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A/N: Meh ... this fic was posted eons ago on other sites, but since the are going to be scenes that would undoubtedly get me in trouble at FF.net later on, I decided to post this here, too. Enjoy! ;)
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Chapter 1
The war was over.
Everything seemed to stand still the moment the Killing Curse was cast from Lord Voldemort's yew wand and hit Harry Potter square on the chest.
The Boy Who Lived, their savior, the only hope for the Muggle and Wizarding world was dead.
A few minutes later, a scream of glee came from Bellatrix Lestrange as the Death Eaters attacked all who had stood up to the Dark Lord. With the victory of Voldemort, the Death Eaters fought even more viciously. As much as the people on the Light side wanted to put up a battle, the death of Harry punctured their spirits as a needle would puncture a balloon.
For some reason, Voldemort had not used the Elder Wand in the last battle against Harry. Later, when Hermione was thrown into a dungeon at the Malfoy Manor, she heard rumors about the Elder Wand being stolen. That, however, was no longer the most important issue.
Despite of her grief for the deaths that had occurred, she knew she had to go on. The brightness in her eyes slightly dimmed as she thought about those who had perished in the final battle.
Harry, Ron, Seamus, Justin, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and Tonks were among the ones she had seen die before her. The rest of them were captured and waiting for a verdict to come from Voldemort. Nobody knew what was going to happen to them.
McGonagall was taken from the dungeons a few days ago and had never returned. The rest of them knew better than to think that she was alive although they did hope for it. If at least one of them could get out of the prisons, they might have a chance to rally more people to fight against the Dark Lord.
~-0-~
He had heard many things about her that reminded him of a younger version of himself.
He was curious about her until the first time he had seen her.
So naïve, so pure, so awfully good and brave, he thought in his head mockingly as he stared at the bushy-haired witch.
He wanted to break her. He wanted to taint her so that she was no longer as white as a piece of paper. He wanted Dumbledore and Potter to die in vain.
His followers had injured her quite badly that day, leaving her with gashes in all parts of her body. Her shirt was almost completely stained red from the blood that was pouring from her wounds. Yet, she still fought on.
When he had her brought in front of her, she looked at him with a look of defiance.
"Miss Granger," he nodded in her direction as a gesture of greeting.
Hermione stood motionless in front of him.
He stood up from his chair and circled around her, looking at her contemplatively. He stopped behind her. "Pardon me. I had forgotten that you were a Gryffindor."
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.
Voldemort knew that she was afraid, but she was not frightened enough. He grabbed her by her waist, forcing her to tumble into his arms with her back towards him.
"And may I remind you that you are a Gryffindor in my hands," he whispered to her, his lips nearly touching her earlobe. He smirked when he felt a slight shiver go through her body.
She still did not say anything.
He traced a finger down her cheek, momentarily astonished by how warm she was. Still keeping his lips right next to her ear, he hissed, "Mr. Malfoy informed me of your intelligence, Ms. Granger." He could feel her body stiffen at the mention of her former classmate. "There are so many things I could teach you. Your thirst for knowledge could be quenched. All you have to do is swear your loyalty to me."
~-0-~
He was trying to tempt her. As alluring as the deal seemed to her, Hermione was not going to give in. She already felt guilty for living while others perished. She was not going to let another issue haunt her conscious.
"You are as stubborn as Bella had told me," he snarled as he threw her on to the floor.
Hermione grimaced when she hit the floor, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.
"I could kill you as easily as I had killed the others. Don't forget that you are a Mudblood. I'm only allowing you to live because I see the potential inside of you."
"Then kill me," she answered as she turned around and looked at him venomously. To her surprise, a high, cold laugh replied to her instead of the infamous green light.
"Miss Granger," he said softly as he bent down towards her. "You are truly naïve. Why would I kill you when there are many, many more things to be done to you?" He stood up again and waved his wand at her, cleaning her up. "You are to follow beside me from now on."
Hermione looked at him in disbelief.
He looked at her with his crimson eyes. "You shall see the magnificence of the Dark Arts with your own eyes."
~-0-~
For seven years, Hermione had been following beside him. Every time he took her outside, she would look for a way to escape from him. Of course, she never succeeded and was treated with rounds of the Cruciatus Curse. To some extent, the torture made her feel at peace. She felt as if she was repaying the debt she owned Harry and Ron. Other than that, she would be Cruciated when she rejected to the idea of learning the Arts.
She was tempted by the knowledge of the Dark Arts, but she still refused to touch them. She could not, however, deny the fact that watching Lord Voldemort perform them was mesmerizing. Besides the grace and expertise by which he performed the Arts, she could feel the passion behind every single one of his moves. She was almost positive that some of the curses and spells were creations of his own. Although she felt disgusted with herself, she had to admit that he was an admirable wizard.
Day after day, she saw innocent lives being taken and people who had resisted the Dark Lord tortured. At night, when she lied in the chamber that was connected to Lord Voldemort's room, she sometimes wanted to laugh at Voldemort for believing that she would want to learn the Dark Arts if she saw these inhumane acts. Of course, sometimes, he would read intriguing passages from texts about the Dark Arts to her, but she continued to hold up her resistance.
She knew that she had no one else. The last prisoner that was executed was Neville. Hermione had formerly thought that he would have been one of the first ones to die at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Nevertheless, the maniacal witch saw it fit to torture the last Longbottom to insanity before ending his life.
Despite knowing what Voldemort stood for, Hermione knew that he was slowly becoming part of her life. It was evident to her when he disappeared for three days straight. Perhaps it was because she knew that he was the only one who cared about her well-being, as ludicrous as that might sound. To some extent, he was even kind to her, compared to how he treated the other prisoners. The Death Eaters around her, on the other hand, were merely indifferent.
And for that reason, she hated them even more than she hated the Dark Lord.
~-0-~
"I shall be leaving for three days," Voldemort announced one day as he sat at the dinner table.
She was allowed food, but while she did not surrender to him, her "seat" was on the floor. Hermione looked at him with a frown.
He was looking at her, his eyes unreadable pits of red.
She wanted to ask him where he was going to or if he was taking her, but it felt wrong for her to do so.
"You will stay in my chambers while I am gone. The house-elf will bring you your meals. You should know better than to try to leave the chambers," he continued.
Again? That was the first thought that came to Hermione's mind when she heard his announcement. He was leaving her alone in the chambers again?
As if he had read her mind, or maybe he had, he smirked before standing up from his seat and Apparating at the spot.
She continued to stare at the spot he had occupied until one of the house-elves came and questioned her if she would like a bath.
She numbly replied to the house-elf but she could not explain the feeling of loss she felt inside of her. What was wrong with her?
~-0-~
Hearing the gentle click of the doorknob, Hermione jumped up from where she was sleeping and ran into Lord Voldemort's room. To her dismay, it was only the house-elf bringing her lunch. She sank down to the floor.
Where was he? It had already been four days already.
Perhaps someone killed him, she thought, trying to smile at the idea but was terrified when she found that she could not.
Throughout the whole day, Hermione vaguely knew what was happening around her as she contemplated her feelings and the reasons for them. The next day, those thoughts were thrown to the back of her head when Voldemort still had not returned.
She sat beside the chair he always sat in at the dining table, burying her head in her knees. She was lost and confused. She hated him. Then why was she feeling so lost when he was not around her?
When she heard the familiar crack beside the chair she was sitting next to, she immediately looked up. He was looking quietly at her with his red eyes.
Hermione knew, without looking at the mirror, that her eyes were sparkling at the sight of him.
~-0-~
The night he took her, she did not resist him. While they were in bed, all she could remember, all she could see, all she could feel was him. As she lied beside him, afterwards, she wondered if she had been placed under the Imperius Curse.
Her face turned a few shades paler when she could not convince herself any longer that she was placed under a spell. She had been willing.
Hermione turned her head and looked at the wizard lying beside her. Voldemort was looking at her with an expressionless face.
She wanted to cry but she could not. The tears did not come even when she willed them to come.
Hermione felt dizzy as the realization hit her.
She had fallen in love with him. Although she hated him, at the same time, she loved him.
He sat up on the bed and ran a finger down her arm. Hermione looked at him but he did not say a word. He got out of bed and robed himself.
"I shall return by nightfall," Voldemort said before he Apparated away. Hermione stared at where he was just standing before again.
I'm in love with him. I hate him. Yet I'm in love with him.
Hermione almost wanted to laugh out loud at the irony of it.
Instead, she screamed.
~-0-~
He knew that she would stop struggling against him one of these days. However, he still grimaced at the irony of how it would be love that conquered the stubborn little witch for him.
When he returned to his chambers that night, he was surprised that he did not see Hermione. He called on the house-elf and it informed him that the witch was taking a bath.
He made his way to the bathroom, a smirk lingering at his lips for his ultimate victory over Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived To Annoy.
When he pushed open the door to the bathroom, all things around him seemed to freeze.
A scream of fury erupted from his throat as he threw a spell at the already broken mirror. The shattered pieces fell to the floor, joining the other pieces that were there when the mirror was first broken.
Just like the first time he had seen her at the battlefield, she was still as white as a piece of paper.
All the wounds on her body had healed already except for the new one in her chest.
And all he saw was red.
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Prisms of Darkness