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- Dim Aldebaran -

A Hermione Granger & Lord Voldemort Drabble Collection

J E A N N E

d' A R C

:i:

Domremy

We fight the Shadow, Harry's mantra runs, we fight the Evil.

And what light casts the Shadow? Hermione asks him.

But the blind man is lost amongst the material excesses of his wrath, and he cannot answer for that which he cannot see, that which he cannot understand.

Hermione is the only of them to remove her blindfold:

They struggle against shadows of themselves, she realizes and in the process they have become the shadow they think they fight against…

She leaves in the bright of day.

Her shadow is long between the gates of Hogwarts.

:i:

Chignon

Hermione comes to him in the night.

She allows herself to be taken: and some, considering past transgressions against their pride, take her for themselves. As they force screams from her throat, she can only think of that which the light inevitably casts.

Only when she can no longer scream do they bring her before him. Though she still bleeds, she stands, and as she looks into the eyes of the Lord she smiles.

Voldemort speaks, and those that sought to stoke their material desires fall, and their shadows are eased from their presence.

She kneels before him. "My Lord."

:i:

Orléans

Voldemort is amused by her: but Hermione did not come to merely amuse.

She takes his blessing and his men—the former for glory, the latter for fame—and they come upon London in the uncertain eve.

The shadows are cast long and sharp against the scarred walls of the Ministry by the light of battle magic, and in this curse-light she sees faces, uncertain of what they fight but knowing it was evil, each and all.

When there are no more lights but the uncertain sun, Hermione stands alone on the battlefield, watching souls evanesce from their mere causes.

:i:

Reims I

Hermione kneels with the others: knees folded into subservience, hands clasped behind her.

But alone amongst them, her eyes are raised to Voldemort as he ascends to the throne.

She is not dressed as them: she does not glimmer as those bright-shiners in their ebony and gold, and yet all eyes are drawn to her at this Ministerial coronation: downcast, demure, declaring what deceit would come for her own ascension—

—but Voldemort's eyes are upon her as he seats himself upon his throne.

…my Lord Voldemort…

Hermione kneels with the others, but she has no illusions about where she stands.

:i:

II

Voldemort releases her from her childhood: through his mind she begins to understand that this is more than mere blood, more than mere magic: more than a throne, more than an empire, more than even her Lord—

And after…

They are not slaves to such pleasures, however inevitable the nights become; nor to the rational horrors that await them outside of their private world of perfect wonders.

At times, they cannot even separate thought from action, abstract from material, perception from sensation.

And after?

When apart, she cannot bring herself to complete faith in her Lord, for all their words.

:i:

Paris

Her thoughts of glory inevitably turn to thoughts of pride, and thoughts of pride turn inevitably into actions of arrogance.

He does not caution his cavalier, and allows her this imperfection as an act of mercy.

They fight by the noontime sun: it bleaches all but the twisted faces of her former comrades from her mind, it burns all but the cries of dying schoolchildren from her soul.

And as she falters, so do her men: they flee into the Forest, and she prays that it is more forgiving than her Lord as the shadows shelter them from the light.

:i:

Burgundy

For a time, she does not understand: but the actions turn to memories, sensation to perception, and the old ascension is there once more.

In these times she feels more keenly the beauty of Voldemort's mind, and the sweetness in such complete understanding of another.

That sweetness will be there forever, she knows: that sweetness will be there as long as she lives.

With this in mind, she allows herself to be taken by the inevitable: and by this, she will take the inevitable and make it her own.

Only he will understand; and that is sweetness beyond the flesh.

:i:

Rouen I

Hermione takes her tea in time with her trials.

She keeps it close, the steam curling up in careless wisps before her.

They'd ask her questions, blunt, stupid questions: questions of loyalty, questions of deeds, questions of motive...

…and she'd take to her tea, musing: to think that I had killed for them, before…

They would redden, they would scream, and they would offer her things for an answer: not merely acquittal but security, fame, wealth…

As if she cares for such things anymore.

They'd ask her questions, blunt, stupid questions: and she'd smile, and she wouldn't say a word.

:i:

II

There are no dementors, no ready wands: demoralized, the masses require a spectacle to continue on.

…and as she is led to the pyre she looks to the stake, and as she is bound to the stake she looks skyward.

He watches, and he smiles: and as the flames begin to caress her, she smiles back.

He is not their Messiah, he is their Prophet: he is not their savior, he is a stepping stone to more…

…and as the flames engulf her, there are screams, but they are not her screams.

Hermione is something more than a mere inferno.

This drabble collection will consist of challenge responses for the hp100 livejournal group. In this, I consistently post in the name of Ravenclaw (against all the appeal of Slytherin...) These will also be used for drabbles100 prompts, another livejournal group. And I always post my personal thoughts and such on each drabble on my personal livejournal, if that sort of thing interests you, though anything that isn't recent might take a little digging to find. This collection should be updated every week or so.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Saeriel for introducing me to this delicious pairing, and to both her and Nallasariel for encouraging me to continue on with it. So, merci beaucoup and all that jazz to them. (If interested, Saeriel and I are cowriting a Hermione Granger-Lord Voldemort-Artemis Fowl crossover novellength, The Rapunzel Complex.)

As a general note, I will simply adore you if you can feed me some constructive criticism, whether specific to a particular drabble, or in general. Just telling me that something is 'good' or 'bad' isn't helpful. If you can supply reasons, and perhaps even strike up a dialogue with me about it, I would be eternally grateful. I do take constructive criticism very seriously, and as an obvious consequence I will take it into consideration in later revisions and in later drabbles.

:i:

This first set of drabbles are for the hp100 challenge of 'material' and the respective drabbles100 prompts of 'blind', 'rebirth', 'enemies', 'king', 'middles', 'not enough', 'found', 'fixed', and 'fire'. 100 words each, for a total of 900 words.

The various titles match up to locations important to the legend of Joan of Arc: Domremy her birthplace, Chignon where she first met the Dauphin, Orléans where she fought to bring him to Reims to be crowned King, Paris where she lost spectacularly, Burgandy where she was taken captive, Rouen where she was tried and burned as a heretic. I also played with some false cognates between English & French. If you can spot the double meanings of these words, you get brownie points. :D

Again, concrit much appreciated.