Author's Note: So this is just a fun little piece that I randomly wrote because my muse for Secret has kinda up and hid somewhere (see my profile). I hope you enjoy and please I would love feedback and I may make this into a story if enough people want me too. It will be a Darker fic than Secret but the pairing is obvious! R&R Please readers! Lol. Can't say it enough. All kinds are welcome except for the hard core hate reviews. Thanks and do enjoy!!!
A Dark Troy
She could see from her captor's shoulder the destroyed castle and chaotic battle on its grounds. The unidentified person's lopsided gate gave her glimpses of the crumbling front of the towering building and the massive male giant beating his way farther in. Stray spells collided with the crumbling stone, aiding the powerful beast in his onslaught. If she tilted her head upward in an aching position she could see boulders flying from the tree tops into the different towers. However, she only witnessed the destruction of one because her captor began to stumble. She peered down to see large blackened roots.
Fear settled into her gut but she returned her bouncing gaze to the still visible view. She looked up just in time to see the falling stone crushing two unsuspecting duelers under their weight. She imagined the sickening sound that would have been made making nausea swirl in her gut. A dark liquid pooled out from under the misshapen debris and merged with the muck below the magical warrior's boots. The rancid concoction formed from the brutally killed and freshly formed mud wafted into her sense of smell. She had smelt death, but this was ruin. This was the Battle of Troy remade.
Hugging close to the crumbling base of the destroyed castle were black and red flames; their appetite growing with each burst of wind and breathy spell from the witches and wizards dueling. Soaked heavy cloaks flipped around their wearers and clung to sweating bodies tightly. The mud and blood swamped around the field and clung to the fighters tightly. She imagined the mixture running through her veins like so many had said before. Thick blades of grass peeked over the top of the staining substance with fresh red liquid running down their thin faces.
Flashes of different colored spells permanently lit up the field and revealed the delta of bleeding corpses lumped along the outside of the bloody swamp. In these areas the dark combination was thicker and larger, supplying the rest of the large area. The areas were composed of twisted heaps of allies and enemies. Red mud splattered across their pale lifeless faces and caked thickly into their seeping wounds.
The sight made her gag. She was forced to press her hot forehead to the damp cloak of her capture. Her fists clenched claw like onto the ropy shoulders of the distinctly male capture. He made no indication of even noticing her tight grip. The cool feeling of his cloak helped her to swallow down the lumpy puke sliding up her throat. Screams of agony and despair warped her courageous will into sympathy for both parties as casualty after casualty crashed upon the sopping ground. She could hear the splatters of blood and mud fly around the bodies like a rock breaking the surface of the massive lake to their left. Unintentionally, she glanced to the far lake that was fast disappearing.
Ear shattering screeches could be heard from the large expanse of water as the life fluid of the fighters mixed into its murky depths. The Mermaids could no longer sing beneath the death and decay intruding in on their homes. The human pollution slipped past gills and prevented them from breathing. The unlucky ones, who never reached the top in time to breath through their human lungs, floated at different angles on the surface of the lake. Tears sprang to her eyes as she turned back to the barely visible battle field.
Cackling dark cloaks flooded the area in far more numbers than the panicking royal blue of her side. She knew the war was lost to them, but many would continue to fight. Fight until they no longer drew breath. It was not a stubborn Gryffindor attribute it was a noble one and a cowardly one all the same. She hated those who would leave everyone behind. Leave those who are too weak and frightened to welcome death like a true warrior would, but she wasn't a warrior was she? How could she blame them for something she would not take herself? But, she wasn't weak and neither were those who still breathed, still lived. She was a scholar, and protector. A shield rather than a sword and she would hold tightly to what she believed to be true. A sword chipped and had to be remade over and over, but a shield. A shield was thick and made to take blows and still stand to make its own attack. A blunt shove in the right direction can impale a foe onto another's sword tip, easily. She had watched over two boys for the majority of her life and today, she had watched them fall back to back in the face of a war. A war no freshly graduated young adult should have had to fight in the first place.
Harry hadn't allowed her to go with them and, so, she had gone back to Hogwarts to watch over those who needed her the most. And, that is why she was in the predicament of being slung over a Death Eaters's shoulder rather than lying amongst the dead before the once towering castle known as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She hated the front row seat the male wizard had given her but she found a type of peace in watching her friends fight proudly for their beliefs. And that meant that their time was over. Their deaths announced the start of the fight of the advisors and strategists, who would endure and change the Dark World to their advantage.
She knew that her physical talents could have given their side an advantage but not enough to win. She understood her part in the war and stayed to head the mental group. The second force of the Order's army that would fight long after the Boy-Who-Lived was deceased. Their wills were honed to be the strongest. Minds focused solely on the purpose of befuddling and baffling. The training they had endured was pain of the body and mind. They had to breathe, they had to live, and they had to watch their loved ones fall. It made them stronger to mourn.
The view of the battle had long ago been lost behind the Forbidden Forest's permanently black trees but the vision inside her head would never vanish. The screams could still be heard from the distance between her position and the once cheerful grounds. Closing her burning hazel eyes she listened to the soft tread of her companion's assailants. Her friends weren't visible but she could sense their presence close by and it comforted her to know that they were alright. No sound escaped their sealed lips because that would destroy their purpose. Destroy what they had been molded to accomplish and that was out of the question. But, such determination didn't stop the pain or tears from coming and she allowed them to flow down her cheeks, hot and moist.
They would be sold into bondage and forced to endure the humiliation of heinous tasks. But, that is what they had been taught to endure. The ones being carried now were the first spoils of war and a symbol that the Dark Lord was going to use to their full advantage. Ginny was Harry Potter's wife. Lavender was the lover and fiancé of Ronald Weasley. Luna Lovegood was an apprenticed Seer. Neville Longbottom was the Order's top Herbologist. And, she, Hermione Granger, she is the last of the Golden Trio. She knew where they were headed and where she would be thrown or placed. They would force her to her knees at his feet.
The intensity of the air had thinned slightly as they continued deeper into the deadly forest and the air had cooled. The only sound that could be heard from the battle was the loud stomping of the giants who had allied themselves with the Dark Lord. The creatures were too stupid to resist his allure and manipulation. They were just a hair above Trolls. She shivered at the remembrance of her first year in the girl's lavatory. The Death Eater shook her roughly for the sudden movement and she couldn't hold back the silent growl in her chest. Her stomach had been pressed painfully in the man's pointed shoulder for the whole trip and it was starting to bruise.
Chuckling darkly the man came to a sudden stop in a small moonlit opening. Hermione immediately knew they had reached the rendezvous point when the others emerged and stood close by, waiting. From her point she could only see Neville and his captor, the long expanse of trees, and eerie mists that dominated the whole forest. Sighing she settled into examining the area. Of course, the forest was Dark both in magic and time of day, but it was, without a doubt, beautiful in its own element. At night the monkshood that blossomed all along the edges of the trees lifted their violet heads to howl silently at the moon, and Enchanter's Nightshade peppered the ground underneath the flowers with a magical silver glow. Along many of the trees were thick dew covered spider webs, most likely from the Acromantulas that lived in the area, and large vines of ivy. She had been in the forest on more pressing matters such as potion ingredients and crazy journeys with her now deceased best friends, but she had never really examined how magnificently beautiful such a dangerous place could be. Its dark powers floated across the tree barks like silver memories swirling in a pensieve. The deadly forest was home to captivating creatures that would be condemned or hunted in society if they were to ever show their, stunning, scared or sickening faces.
She hated how things were, and she knew she was going to hate how things were going to be, but she would make the best of it. She would stay who she was no mater what. A series of three loud pops broke Hermione from her musings, and the fear inside of her grew. The atmosphere surrounding them was suddenly thick with powerful magic and it shook her to the bone. Hermione knew that he was one of the three who joined their small group.
She had just enough time to breathe deep before she was literally thrown from her perch to the uneven and concrete hard earth. She gasped in pain when a high root caught her outer thigh, but she settled for that. No tears. No cry. Her mind was too focused on the goal. Shifting off of the injured leg she gave one sweeping glance to her members still held like sacks of potatoes. Her Death Eater was a good nine feet away, give or take a couple, making her cringe at the distance she was tossed so carelessly. Shaking she turned to the coal black robes brushing silver scale-plated dragon hide boots crushing the ghostly pale grass in front of her. Power flowed from his being similar to the way heat rayed off of the sun. To his left and right stood two identical sets only the plates were black.
The already close set of boots stepped to her. She gripped the ground below her tightly as his magic wrapped loosely around her in a serpentine way, undulating about her body. She shirked slightly away from his dominating presence for fear of being dominated but stalled her frightful response. She did not have to fight his power, but his mind, and Hermione Granger couldn't stop the sudden surge of excitement that ran through her. She craved a challenge and the battle between their wills would be more dangerous and more exhilarating than anything she had ever faced before. Steeling herself she allowed her hazel gaze to travel upward over the incredible height of Lord Voldemort.
His narrowed crimson gaze beat into her doe stare with such glorious intensity that her body shook with his triumph. But, only those bloody feline eyes showed his satisfaction. A mask of indifference was carved into his chiseled jaw line and high cheek bones. His thin faded ash lips were set permanently in an unmoving line, and just above the thin lips were the slit nostrils. The small apertures flared gently as he took in air to accommodate his closed mouth. Curling luxuriously up from his half-lidded eye lids were silvery transparent lashes. The curved bone that would normally be lined with short fine hair on a regular person was vacant of eyebrows. His unique ivory skin gleamed healthily in the forests glow. His form terrified and entrapped Hermione's soul.
He shifted into a crouch and it startled her how graceful he moved. His body didn't shift like a cobra, mamba, or any type of snake; he moved like a jungle cat stalking prey, elegant and commanding with each shift of his hidden frame. The draping black cloak lying across his body spread halo like around him and settled around her huddled form into a makeshift cave opening. Powerful muscles rippled noticeably in his lean neck.
Her thick gulp was just as noticeable and racking red followed the slow moving lump down her tanned slender neck to where it vanished under her clavicles. Moments later a cold long slender digit pressed softly into the hollow dip in her throat. Her quickening pulse thumped loudly under the icy contact and increased as he traced upward with slow delicacy, leaving icy trails in its wake. During his meticulous tracing, crimson eyes never strayed from the appendage's progress up to her jaw and over the curve to the base of her ear. He paused there to cup her creamy face in his large palm. The carved lines in his potion calloused hand pressed indentions into her creamy skin as he lifted her face up and lowered those ashy lips to her ear. His hot breath wafted across the shell and sent shivers racing up and down her spine, spreading gooseflesh across her body. The scent of ancient tombs and storm rains washed through her senses like a cave spring over eroding rock.
He was filling her every sense with his presence making her eyes widen and her to body shake with fear and anticipation, "What a delicious trophy to have won."
The moist barely audible whisper tickled over her ear and neck and she gripped the earth tighter. Fear was swamping her as his presence continued to dominate everything around her. A distinct smell of dew fluttered over her nose and if not for her fear and the spinning sensation pressing her body through a small space she would have quirked an eyebrow. The Disapparation made her feel queasy but she forced it back. Her face was still upturned with Voldemort's palm holding her firm. Her hands and legs were now buried deep within the aftermath of the battle.
His ruby eyes darkened as he drew himself up and her along with him. She winced at having to put weight on her aching leg so she focused on the way the gory liquid coating her arms and legs slid off of his cloak like water off a ducks back. Wicked intent swam in his mesmerizing glare as she was spun around to face the massacre. Bodies were strewn across the grounds before the half demolished and burning castle. Death Eaters were weaving in and out of the corpses kicking them and ensuring their deaths with quick green burst of their wands. Only the occasional living corpse was jerked up and drug off to a small group of bleeding individuals near the forests edge. Tears burned at the corner of her eyes and she let them fall silently.
The rancid smell luckily could not penetrate the aurora wrapping around Voldemort and her. Even scents avoided his powerful presence. The flashing of the flames engulfing her old school reflected in her golden hazel gaze, and her thoughts drifted to her description of Troy. She half expected there to be a Trojan Horse positioned at the large gaping hole in the castle where the giant double doors had been. Taking in shaky breathes she realized that it was to dark to be the actual Fall of Troy. The reality of the situation was far to wicked than the purpose of Troy's destruction. There was no Paris or Agamemnon to take her away. There was only him and his Death Eaters.
She felt his taller masculine frame press into her back as he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and manacled a hand around her neck loosely. Once again his lips were pressed to the shell of her ear, but instead of speaking he ran a long tongue along the outer curve tasting her skin tentatively. She flexed to get away but a warning growl froze her in place. The man standing behind her relished his control.
Paralysis set in as the winding arm around her waist waved across their vision with a long ivory wand held firmly in his grip. The arm returned to her waist and she watched as the castle began to rebuild itself. Dark magic etched into the masonry of the fallen stone that dripped with the warrior's blood and the earth's mud. His long fingers began to massage the tight muscles lining her delicate neck as the building came together and the flames extinguished. She could feel the glare of a particular Death Eater but Hermione was far to distracted to care.
She felt him straighten behind her and announce to one of the Death Eater's with him, "you know what is to be done," the servant vanished with a pop and once again she felt the pull of Apparating. They were now standing in a magnificent bedroom suit. He spun her forward after whispering a spell beneath his breath and flung his cloak off, which landed neatly on one of the chairs behind him. Before she hit the bed he had caught her hand and pulled her flush against him where he proceeded to hold her hip with the other. They stood in the center of the room in a waltz position, his eyes piercing through her. His body was very male and she became aware of what was going to transpire on the night of his victory. The fear in her gut multiplied but she would give him that pleasure. Fighting the overwhelming sensations of being alone with the Dark Lord, Hermione glanced down at her clothes. No longer did they have the dripping mush of blood and mud, but neither was she still wearing the same clothes. A long black sheet was wrapped around her body revealing her right shoulder and curve of her breast. A silver braided cord was tied around her middle to hold the toga on.
Her body was suddenly tugged tighter into his encompassing embrace, a low animalistic rumbled vibrated in his chest. Feeling trapped she looked up into his hungry gaze and she knew there was no escape from this alpha male. He got what he wanted and his sights were set on her, a muggleborn, "welcome to your Dark Troy, my delicious Helen," his lips crashed down onto hers in a bruising dominating kiss as he slid the fresh garment from her body.
So once agian please tell me what you think! =^.^=
I love the story of Troy so I just had to write this! It seemed so RIGHT! Lol.