Author's Note – Warning: Contains Context*
So a while back I had a different account and a couple of fics up but drama happened. I gave up on writing for a while. And I can't promise that this will last…but here we go another post. I'm posting this mainly because of Mksfroogle. Her story Marie Potter and the Deal inspired me to actually work on this idea. While I prefer a more clinically psychopathic Voldemort, I really enjoyed her fem Potter's personality and attitude.
*Now this is a continuation of an idea that I only typed up the prolog for originally. Basically Harry is a girl, looks like her mother but has her father's eyes, and was sorted in Slytherin. To go along with that I put Hermione in Ravenclaw, Ron in Hufflepuff, and only left Nevil in Gryffindor. If I don't drop off the face of the earth I'll go back and write the rest of the differences but even assuming all the rest is the same as canon, you should be able to follow along.
My original paring was going to be Fem Harry and Draco but now I have this idea. So while I plan on going back and writing fem Harry going through Hogwarts with the elements I've just stated, that will be a separate story from this point (Graveyard scene) on. So I'll continue this as its own entity with a LV ship. I'll post the Draco ship with background events later.
Oh! Also a warning, there is something here but don't freak out – I'm not making this some pedo-perv story. While this does scene does start her down the road to thinking of LV as a love interest, nothing will happen until she's graduated. I'm not exactly sure how that relationship will develop, but I'm aiming for a remorse/ Beauty and the Beast sort of thing.
This was typed up right before Philosophy class so I realize I say she a lot, but I probably won't edit that for a bit.
Questions Comments Concerns? Please PM me or leave a review.
As always I lay claim to nothing.
/ridiculously long Author Note.
"Any last requests, girl?" His mocking tone made her want to rage, but something in her had given up. This. This was the moment her life ended. She could feel it. Her mind resonated with the truth. All illusion of a normal future had been stripped from her when Cedric had died in front of her. Heather made the conscious decision to acknowledge that. There would be no chance of a fair fight. This is the moment she had to give up her life.
She didn't have to fake the fear, or the tears threatening to spill at the thought of her impending end. The tremors were at the cost of her pride, but really – really she had lost that already. What sort of hero lets someone die? What sort of savior is the cause of evil's return? So she let her watering eyes meet the dark lord's cruelly amused gaze and said, "My first kiss. If…"She hesitated and some snickers emanated from the surrounding death eaters. "If you're going to kill me," Heather continued more firmly, because it didn't matter how ridiculous she sounded if she was going to die. "I want to have my first kiss."
Obvious shock flickered to life on Voldemort's face. It was quickly replaced with a sneer. She had seen it though. Surprising an evil wizard who was five times older than her was something… At least she had managed that much. "I have no interest in children." That sparked her defiance, and Heather threw her shoulders back and met his eyes with a glare. "And I have no interest in monsters, but you're the one who offered to hear my last request." She gestured at her cut arm and said as imperiously as she could manage, "You've taken everything from me and now want my life. It's a small thing to ask."
Trying to sound as formal as any pure blood, wishing for the eloquence Draco had when he chose to use it, she mustered as much dignity as she could and faced her enemy squarely. "In exchange for giving me my first kiss I, Heather Lilly Potter, freely give you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, my life." A feeling of magic clicked across the graveyard. She let her glare fade into a bitter grimace. "An oath like that should get around my seeming immunity to death." She folded her arms around herself, trying to tell her pride that it was a show of attitude not a hug.
Everyone was silent, even the ones who had found her amusing before. She had made an oath, like a proper Potter heir. She was sure Voldemort was considering was just killing her, after all he had her wand and she was defenseless... But she had pointed out that by now Heather should legitimately be dead several times over. Add that to her magic sealed oath and he would have to have a pretty decent reason to refuse her. If Slytherin had taught her anything it was the importance of your word when backed by magic.
Right as the waiting was becoming unbearable; the dark lord raised his wand in mock salute. "I am lord Voldemort and I will grant Heather Lilly Potter her first kiss in exchange for her life." Again the magic snapped. While not an unbreakable it was a magically binding oath. If he kissed her, she had no choice but to give him her life. A part of her wanted to run, because if he didn't kiss her, or she ran and kissed someone else first, Heather didn't have to give him her life. It almost seemed worse in a way, having chosen the terms of her death than fighting in vain anyway. She had made this decision, but no almost 15 year old should have to choose how to die.
Maybe he also realized how easily she could negate the terms, or maybe he was just eager to end this farce, because without hesitation he strode over to her and grabbed her chin. His long fingers were cold, despite having just been formed in a caldron, and held her firmly. Maybe he could see her desire to flee. Her heart raced in fear, and a detached part of her realized she was more afraid of Voldemort kissing her than killing her.
His eyes met hers but the dark lord was unreadable as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. She flinched instinctually, but his other hand held her by the arm, keeping her close. She felt something warm and wet brushing against her lips and she gasped. His tongue slipped in easily. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding and yet she began to relax as everything seemed to center around the taste of copper. As he pulled away she felt something inside go with him. Heather felt colder without his warmth and empty as their magic fulfilled her end of the bargain.
He let her go and she fell to her knees. She felt like she should be crying but didn't have enough energy left to even have the feeling of despair, let alone express it. She could sort of feel him for a moment, almost like being in two places at once. To the death eaters it looked like Voldemort had upheld his side and only needed to finish off the broken girl at his feet. But as she regained her equilibrium, Heather could see the fury in his eyes. He knew what she had done.
Feeling somewhat smug, despite the horridness of the situation Heather made sure her voice carried across the graveyard. "I promised you my life Riddle, and it is yours to keep, but I did not promise you my death." He could make her suffer, he could drive her insane, and he could do a great many awful things as long as he was careful – but he couldn't kill her. Her life was now tied to his. Neither could live if the other died. Fifteen and expected to fight a war, never been in love and tied to a man, not even graduated and already hoping to die. This was her life. Heather stood on shaky legs. This was her life and it wasn't over just quite yet.
She really hadn't expected him to figure it out so quickly. The death eaters shifted restlessly, not understanding what was happening. Voldemort was just standing there, staring at her furiously. Seeing how fast he had figured out her plan she really couldn't let him have too much time to consider the ramifications of action. She tackled him. He hadn't been ready for that and Heather wrestled her wand from him and ran. Likewise surprised, it took his followers a moment to react, which gave her a chance to slip out of the circle of bodies. As spells shot past her she weaved in and out of the tombstones, running for the body of Cedric. Voldemort's voice rang out "Alive, keep her alive you fools!"
The cup lay next to him and she clutched him tightly and grabbed the portkey, desperately hoping that it would take her back. Despite her resolution to die Heather was relieved when she appeared in the champion's ring.
Time Skip Beginning of Year Five, Sorting Feast
It was hard to convince her heart to slow down, her mind not to stutter and freeze. It was not love, or lust, just obsession that caused her to fixate on Voldemort. Obsession mixed with self-preservation. He was not interested in children he said, thank Merlin, and no matter how old she got surely she would always be a child to someone five times her age? Regardless, her life literally was Voldemort. What was she going to do?
When Heather had given him her first kiss it was a gamble. Hermione pointed out that muggleborn innovation was often due to not having been raised to understand the basic nature of magic. Believing that magic could accomplish anything led to trying things commonly accepted as impossible. An oath is made of things of equal value, ideally trading things of a similar nature. There was no reason she couldn't give him her life with a kiss. That was how dementors took lives and that was how, in a sense, marriage worked. He was only living a half-life really, giving him hers probably fleshed him out. Her plan, hastily thought out, was that if he took her life, which theoretically should be joined with his own sustaining force, it would damage or kill him. Realizing she was emulating Hermione in her thoughts, Heather dropped her head onto the table.
She hadn't expected him to kiss her like that, but she had expected to die. She had only hoped that everything would come together and she would take him down with her. She hadn't counted on surviving. Her life was tied to the most evil man of the last three generations. While it didn't seem to be giving him any measure of control over her, it didn't really help her either. The headmaster refused to let her go off and kill herself – in fact he had made light of her situation. 'We'll solve this Riddle yet, Heather. Never fear.' His eyes weren't twinkling though.
It had been months and she still couldn't erase the taste of him in her mouth from her mind. Heather wished she could forget it because out of everything, that should be the least of her worries. Like the fact Voldemort was their defense teacher this year. At least there was the curse. Surely they were overdue for a death caused by that thing. A sharp kick to her leg made her sit up and glare across the table at Draco, who looked back with disdain. "Whatever developments of the political climate Potter, you still are representing this house." She stiffened, years of conditioning correcting her posture and expression. When she was finally settled, legs crossed at the ankle and face in a pleasantly neutral expression, she nodded her acknowledgement at Draco. "You're right Malfoy, united front."
He rolled his eyes at her icy tone, but let it go. The entire house was tense. Those in the know were treading carefully, and those who weren't were smart enough to be hesitant. The balance of power was currently in flux. She let her eyes scan the table pausing briefly at Pansy. She was usually a good barometer for the house feelings. Today her usually expressive face was so carefully happy it was frightening. Heather risked a glance at the head table. Professor Snape's face was also empty, but his eyes glittered angrily when she met them. Dumbledore acted as if nothing was out of norm for the welcoming feast. He was chatting gaily with the new defense professor who barely replied.
Despite her better judgement, her eyes hesitated on Professor Riddle. He looked like an older version of the prefect she had met in her second year, maybe late twenties. No sign of the monster that had been spawned from the graveyard. She finally wrenched her gaze away and tried to smoothly transition into looking over the rest of the houses. At first she couldn't see anyone who even suspected that something was wrong. But then a few still forms caught her attention.
At Ravenclaw, Hermione was looking seriously in her direction and Heather nodded. Of course she would remember his name. Ginny Weasley at Gryffindor was white faced and shaking, her eyes locked on Riddle. She recognized him; she knew the devil himself had come to stay. Nevil was so very carefully not looking at the head table that he might as well have been staring like Ginny. Ron was giving his sister and the new professor considering looks – the Hufflepuff boy would figure it out soon. And if I can see them, he can too. She looked one last time at Riddle, but his expression was unreadable and his focus seemed to be on the Headmaster's rambling.
Finally she began eating, not really paying any mind to the careful conversations around her. She cleared her mind, trying to give herself a moment of silence, a place of stillness, a void where she could hide. For a moment everything faded away and she relaxed. Then came a trickling of something. Just like an itch, once noticed it became worse. It felt like the taste of him in her mouth. Invasive and impossible to ignore. Everyone began pushing back from the table, and reality flooded back into her awareness. Even though it was no longer the only thing in her mind, it was still there. Faint but real.
Draco jostled past her. "Better hurry Potter, wouldn't want you to be confused with a first year." Heather rolled her eyes. At least something in her life was the same. "I'll have you know Malfoy, I'm not short I'm fun sized." A couple of her classmates looked confused, obviously having no reference for her comment. Draco though, turned, his cheeks tinged pink. "Oh? Is that what the Dark Lord said when you kissed him?" And just like that she was back to feeling unbalanced. She couldn't believe they were doing this here, in a dungeon corridor instead of the common room where most of Slytherin politics were discussed. Maybe this isn't about politics though.
No one moved – whatever this was, it was going to be public. Trying to return the barb Heather made her tone taunting. "What Malfoy, jealous? Don't worry he told me he doesn't like little girls." She gripped her wand under her sleeve. She wanted to start this fight. "Oh wait, I guess that means you don't have a chance either." His already flushed face darkened and his expression twisted into fury. He raised his wand and Heather did the same, but a voice rang out halting their attack.
"Can someone please explain to me why it is that the majority of my House is lingering in the halls?" Snape's silky voice parted the crowed like Moses and the red sea. She slipped her wand away and stepped in front of Draco. Heather really didn't want a detention on the first day of the year. "We decided we wanted to lend consequence to your entrance sir." His eye brow lifted at the sir, she only used respect in his presence when in trouble. "To lend weight to the concept of house unity." Draco smoothly stepped in beside her. No doubt he also remembered that detentions with her never led to anything good. "We voted and it was almost unanimous Professor." She tried not to let his sideways glance nettle her.
"I see." Snape's tone spoke volumes about just what he saw, but he let it go. To be fair, when he hosted her detention things didn't end well for him either. The professor's glance over the rest of the crowed was conspicuously avoided; but when he continued down the passage, robes billowing, the rest of the house followed. Draco waited until the majority had passed before stating in a low voice, "This isn't over Potter." Heather stared at him. She almost pointed out she didn't even know what this was, but finally just said, "You started it" Before following the rest of the procession back to the commons.
It was ridiculous really, how the female kind kept getting the best of him. First Potter's wife and now this little girl. Many mothers had laid down their lives for their children and many young girls made promises with their lips, and yet somehow these women managed what no other had. Blood wards that no curse breaker could tear down based on, if Severus was to be believed, the most tenuous of familial ties. A soul bond that did more to bind him to life than the darkest of rituals. Such impossibilities.
The game had changed again. The prophecy was now essential – the clue to getting rid of this threat must reside within it. While he was sure Dumbledore would be only too happy to let his newest defense instructor reveal himself to the fools at the ministry, he obviously wanted to avoid that for as long as possible. Voldemort hoped not only to gain the prophecy, but also mitigate the political influence of the Golden Girl. While she had made little use of if before now, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the war reached the light of day. Swaying public opinion now, would stave off attempts to form a proper rebellion later.
With his contacts it was easy to secure his 'cursed' position, overriding any concerns of the headmaster. From here he could not only keep an eye on his two greatest enemies, but also ridicule their attempts to prove his revival. After all, Tom Riddle was an upstanding member of the community. In addition, while he happened to be at Hogwarts he could shape the minds of the children he taught... So much Voldemort was able to accomplish right out in the open, and no one who knew or suspected could do anything about it. It was almost enough to make up for the incessant nattering of the old man. Dumbledore acted so very pleased to have his most talented pupil back, despite having refused him this very job all those years ago.
He kept his eyes on the old coot as he surveyed the great hall with his peripheral vision. Only a handful of students seemed leery of him, the majority were actually making bets about how long he would last. He took note of the few who obviously knew something and then turned his attention to the girl. He only made token responses to Dumbledore's inane comments, but apparently nothing more was required. She kept sneaking glances at him, and had made her own accounting of the general level of ignorance in the room.
This is just the start, just wait until that stupidity turns into outright hostility. Despite everything the girl held herself well – unlike many of her generation she was capable of basic etiquette. More so even than the normal standard of decorum held to members of the Slytherin House. Her spine was straight, head perfectly level, and legs crossed modestly even though she was seated at a bench. It occurred to him that not only could he keep an eye on the girl's activities, but he could possibly gain insight into her personality. It is after all, one thing to be under constant threat and be told you're the one who has to stop it. It was quite another to stand up to the challenge where others had failed and expect to succeed.
She tied her life to mine in the hopes that I would kill her. What sort of girl accepts victory at all costs? Voldemort mused as he ate. Less of a sacrificial lamb and more of wolf, with a dominance or death mentality. As he considered this, he had stopped even giving the illusion of attention to Dumbledore and was quite surprised when he felt a light touch on his arm. The old man was leaning in with a concerned look on his face, but his eyes were twinkling madly with some mischief. "Now Tom, being as well preserved as you are, and unmarried, I feel that I must warn you that relationships between students and professors are completely prohibited." Startled, Voldemort could only stare at the headmaster. "But please do be gentle when putting down any young girls overzealous advances. After all, there is no greater power than love, whether it is that of an idea or a person."
Collecting himself, Voldemort – seventy years old, so powerful that people hesitated to say his name fifteen years after his supposed death, the immortal and greatest dark wizard of his time – solemnly promised not to succumb to the advances of hormonal teenage girls. Inside however, he was rather affronted that anyone would ever consider that a young girl could get the best of him. He ignored his mind when it pointed out that the Potter girl had at least three times so far. That was sheer dumb luck.