Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in the Harry Potter universe - they are the property of J.K. Rowling and I'm not making any money off of this venture.
Author's Note: AU. This story is non-compliant with some elements of the books.
Chapter One: Prophecy
"Um, Hermione, Lord Voldemort?" Tonks yelled. "There's a prophecy here with your names on it." The battleground deep in the Ministry of Magic went quiet, as everyone froze. Hermione, who was battling Goyle Sr, and Voldemort, who was battling Moody, Kingsley, and Sirius, rushed over. Tonks pointed out the prophecy hidden on the top shelf, towards the right, and just as Voldemort reached for it, she accidentally bumped his arm. The glass ball shattered on the ground, and a ghostly figure emerged from within. At his furious expression, she whispered an apology. The prophet's voice carried throughout the Atrium, reverberant and echoing:
The Dark Lord and friend of the Chosen One, born from the magic-less – they shall meet again. Their souls will become one as they join in union, and there shall burst forth from her womb a child, surpassing the likes of Merlin….
Everything was silent. The shouts and scuffling boots from minutes ago gave way to a deafening silence, broken only by the sound of water dripping deep in the bowels of the Ministry. Warriors on both sides were frozen, wands at their sides, staring at the place where the prophet was, at Hermione, at Voldemort, and back at the prophet's place. Quite a few were shaking their heads, muttering "no" under their breaths. Hermione's cinnamon eyes warily met Voldemort's. Looking into his red eyes was unnerving, to say the least, she thought. She rested her hand protectively over her lower abdomen, her eyes never leaving his.
Looking between them, Tonks saw Voldemort's expression mirrored on Hermione's face - eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouths agape.
"There's a lot of words in there I didn't like," Voldemort sneered at last.
"Surely, it must be tampered with, my Lord," Lucius drawled. He wore the Death Eater mask, but that baritone drawl was unmistakably his.
"How many times must I tell you, Lucius?" Voldemort murmured. Lucius bowed and stepped back. "A prophecy is similar to a patronus; you cannot produce a fake or tamper with it."
"Union?" Hermione mouthed. "'Join in union'?" she said louder, just above a whisper. "…souls will become one…? What...?" I'm seventeen, she thought. I'm only seventeen.
Tonks looked thoughtful. "I overheard a couple of Department of Mysteries folk once discussing souls in the elevator…" She heard a snort from Lucius's direction.
"Anyway, to paraphrase them, when two people fall in love, their souls begin to overlap. If the couple falls into a lifelong, unconditional love, then their souls will merge and become one. It's a permanent bond – if one dies, the other dies soon after." She hesitated, and then added, "Almost always the couple gets married."
Voldemort forced a laugh, but Hermione could see the flash of panic in his serpentine eyes. "So according to this damned prophecy, I'm supposed to fall in love with this mudblood, shag her, marry her, and we have a child?" he sneered. "Not a bloody chance."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I thought a snowball had a better chance in Hell than a baby did of surviving a killing curse," Tonks said softly. Voldemort's eyes flashed.
"I still don't get… how…?" Hermione muttered.
"Er…. he comes inside you, and nine months – " Tonks began hesitantly, but Voldemort cut her off with a wave of his hand and a sarcastic, "Thank you, Tonks…"
"I get that." Hermione said crossly. "I mean... we're not compatible..." she stammered. He's going to curse me or Tonks anytime now…. Oh gods I'm supposed to….with HIM? She saw Harry's wide eyes and looked away.
"Hell if I know. Shared intellect? Fate? Pheromones?" Tonks answered.
Voldemort echoed "pheromones?" and snorted. He turned to Hermione. "You're not my type. I have no interest in marriage, love, or children. And especially not with you," he hissed.
I suppose I should feel insulted, Hermione thought, but all she felt was relief. "Same to you," she stammered, braver than she felt.
"We're in agreement then," he murmured. He turned his wand over in his spidery hand, and to his satisfaction, saw Hermione flinch. "I'm not going to kill you – I learned my lesson with the last prophecy. But stay away from me," he hissed. "If we avoid each other, avoid any and all contact, it's impossible that this damned prophecy can come to fruition."
Hermione nodded, and Voldemort swiveled on his heel and disapparated.
She stared wordlessly after him, eyebrows knitted together, biting her lip, hand resting protectively over her abdomen.
