I am not J.K., nor would I ever pretend to be. Everything Harry Potter belongs to her and I am just eternally grateful that she allows us to use her world to play in. A/N: Read my A/N at the bottom, please.
Warning: Some things may pop up here that are grotty and creepy.
Chapter 7: Compromise
Finally alone.
She'd been hoping for this for hours now, and finally she was alone. For how much longer, she couldn't be sure. But she would enjoy her solidarity as best as she could.
There were so many things rushing through her head. Harry was dead. Ron was imprisoned. Voldemort wanted to marry her. And her parents weren't, in fact, her real parents. No! Her brain shouted to her. They are my real parents. They just weren't my birth parents.
Standing up from her couch she walked over to the French doors that must surely lead to a balcony. She needed the fresh air. She needed to breathe in something besides the smell of Hogwarts.
But as soon as she stepped out onto the balcony, she realized that this had been a mistake.
The putrid smell of decaying flesh assaulted her nose. Though she had to be at the topmost tower-besides the Astronomy tower- the smell still permeated the air. The acrid fumes of smoke left her throat ragged and made her eyes watery.
But the sight! The sight was terrifyingly horrible. Hermione had always been proud of her amazing eyesight, but at this moment she didn't want it. Not at all.
Congealed blood was splattered all over the grounds, as far as she could see. Bodies of her dead comrades lay on their backs, while people walked through them. At first she didn't know what those still walking were doing until she saw what appeared to be an elderly couple pick an extremely battered body and walk away with it; their shoulders slumped in pain and grief.
Survivors coming to claim their dead; their friends, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers…the list went on and on in her mind.
She kept her gaze on the stumbling couple until she saw them reach the entrance gate. So intent was her gaze upon the couple that she barely missed what was magically floating above the gate. Actually it was their discreet gaze upwards that caused her to look at whatever that thing was too.
Is that a person? She thought, warily.
Slowly, the body turned, as if caught by a breeze, and the dead eyes of Harry Potter looked out across field. His eyes never seeing her standing on that wretched balcony, nor did his ears hear the piercing scream torn from her throat. But all those walking on the grounds did.
"NO!" she screamed over and over again. Tears fell like rain from her already bloodshot eyes, and her throat protested against the abuse it was currently receiving.
And this was how the Dark Lord found her.
Yanking her forcefully from the railing, he half-carried her back inside. Hermione clawed at his arms, spit in his face, and kicked with all her might. The outrage of seeing the way in which Harry's body was being so desecrated fueling her rage and stifling her fear.
"You, foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" she yelled at him, once he'd finally succeeded in getting her inside and magically closing the doors.
"Watch who you're talking to, dearest," he spat back, angrily. He had spit in his eye, scratches on his arm, and an extremely painful shin. He was furious! Never before had he been so physically assaulted.
"Oh, forgive me, my Lord," she bitingly remarked. "I should never have addressed you in such a way. I have not only made you feel immensely better about yourself, I have also disgraced every cockroach in existence by implying you're almost at their level. When truth be told, you're lower than dirt, you nasty mongrel!"
"You will watch your tongue, girl!"
"Or what? You'll torture and kill me? Then what? You'll have my body raised next to his? Have you no sense of morality, at all? Let him rest in peace! He's lost! You killed him! Let him be!" And with that, she succumbed to tears once more.
Voldemort hated seeing tears. Ever since he was a young child, he'd hated hearing people cry. Especially the babies. Not because he felt bad; it just made him uncomfortable. But seeing this witch, who was rumored to be extremely powerful and had proven herself to be amazingly bright, cry was making his mouth dry and skin crawl.
Not a moment ago, she had been attacking him and then hurling insult after insult. But now she was a wreck. Her hair was starting to get bushy, her nose was runny, and her face was bathed in tears. Merlin! She was almost making him feel gross. Almost.
Silently he sat down on a dazzlingly white, high-backed, armless chair.
"What would you have me do?" he asked, coldly.
"He-hiccup-de-deserves bet-better-sob, sniffle- than th-that," she said. "He was a wo-worthy opponent. Du-dumbledore was given a proper funeral. Give Harry the right to rest in a grave next to his parent's."
"No," he replied, simply.
"So, are you afraid that the moment you turn your back he'll come alive? As much as I hate to say it, he won't. He wasn't as cowardly as you. And that must be why you won't give him a proper resting place. After all, you're allowing others to come and pick up their dead. Please, just give him that."
"You are such an insolent girl! I am no coward! He deserves everything that has ever happened to him! The death of his parents and his godfather, pain, suffering, abuse at the hands of his family, and animosity from his peers were all the things he deserved. He dared to threaten my existence, and by doing so he sealed his own fate!"
"He deserved the love his parents had that they would lay down their lives for him; he deserved the loyalty of his friends, the praise from his teachers, and the respect he was given once he entered this world. Why can't you give this one thing? I'm not asking for much. Please, let me bury my friend, my brother." This time she had spoken softly, not angrily or bitterly, just softly.
"What could you possibly give me in return that I won't already take? You'll be my wife, you'll bear my child, and you'll use that brain to destroy the Muggle world."
"My loyalty. I will give you my loyalty. I shall be as loyal and faithful to you and your cause as Snape has shown himself to be."
He sat back and watched her. That was unexpected. He'd thought she would fight more. He'd been prepared for a longer battle, but this was most pleasantly unexpected.
"And why do you pick Snape from the ranks of my Death Eaters, and not another? Why not Bella?" he asked.
"Because I could never lower myself Bella's level. She is like a groveling dog. As for why Snape, isn't it obvious how loyal he is? He's risked his life for you time and time again for many years. Is that a satisfactory response? Or shall I write an essay of the 101 qualities of Severus Snape?" she couldn't help but add that last bit. She may have been practically begging, but she would never stop being who she was. And she wouldn't tarnish Harry's memory by just giving up without at least a little bit of fight. Or at least what little bit she could give.
"Agreed. Potter may be given a proper burial next to his parent's graves. I will allow you to go, so you know it was done, but there will be not others in attendance. No mourners, no epitaph, nothing. However, the young Malfoy, as head of your guard will accompany you. Now if there are no more questions, let us go down to dinner," he finished, rising up and moving to the door.
"Wait! When do I get my wand back?" she asked, refusing to thank him for doing the proper thing.
"Oh, my dearest, I should have made myself clearer. You may ask questions, but please refrain from asking stupid ones. You will not be given your wand back until our wedding has taken place. Wouldn't want to tempt you with reneging on your promise of loyalty, would I?"
With a hateful glance, she stomped past him through the open door, making sure to stomp on his foot. Groaning with pain he followed after her, wanting so very much to wring her delicate neck.
He would allow her these small fleeting acts of revenge. For now, at least. Besides, she'd been right when she said that Bella was like a groveling dog. And that wasn't what he wanted.
A/N: So, I'm really sorry I haven't been updating as much as I promised and planned.
I'm a nursing student and mother of two, ages 2 and 5. So, needless to say, I find myself a little over-whelmed at the time.
There was a question about whether Hermione being muggle-born or not, and the answer is that she is muggle-born. Snape and Helena have conspired together to do this to save Hermione, without realizing that Voldemort would want to do what he will do: marry Hermione. Hermione and the rest of the world, however, don't know this.
I hope that answers your question.
I do realize that I haven't made Voldemort too creepy yet, especially around Hermione. But I do want to say that the Voldemort that I envision wouldn't hurt Hermione beyond repair. Voldemort has always had ideas of grandeur and marrying who he believes to be the last descendant of Ravenclaw sort of boosts that image he wants.
So, please review or PM! Take care, guys! See you soon.
