Chapter 11
Green eyes. Such beautiful green eyes looked at her, but they were full of such fury, such anger. They belonged to man with messy, jet-black hair, and crooked glasses. He stood tall and strong with a fierce power surrounding him. Though, his glare was meant for her. A redheaded woman who glowered stood behind him. She possessed grace and strength, but she could see the hatred within her. The three of them stood in decrepit surroundings. Jail cells were all around them, and she could hear shouting and scurrying. Flying spells were ubiquitous and were glowing different colors.
"No please," she heard fall out of her lips as she stepped back from the pair. "Please, Harry, we were friends."
"Not anymore," the man called Harry snarled at her.
"Ginny, please," she begged.
The redheaded woman shook her head. "You've gone too far, Hermione. What you've done, being with him just can't be forgiven. You of all people with him! Hermione you're a killer just by being associated with him!"
"It's not too late, I can come back," Hermione tried to persuade the woman. "We can be friends, just like we used to be."
"We can never be friends again, not after all you've done. You're-you are a plague that needs to be stopped," the woman told her, like her death was somehow of ecumenical value.
It was then she noticed that her hands were bound. Her wand was on the ground besides her. She must have been overtaken by these two. Two people who at one point must have been her friends. What had happened? Who was the redheaded woman, Ginny, referring to?
"I can't kill you, Hermione, I just can't, not after everything, so I'm sorry, I have to do worse," Harry interrupted, his head shaking back and forth.
"Get it over with if you're going to do it," she snarled, her false woe and sorrow turning vicious. "You've caught me. Do with me what you must. My Lord will vanquish you, so it doesn't matter what happens to me."
"Fine. Just know that this was all your doing," Harry said, only pity remaining. He lifted his wand and pointed it right towards her face. "Obliviate."
In that moment, she felt herself disappear and fall backwards towards oblivion. A desperate shout of her name flowed in and out of her ringing ears. The voice did not belong to either Harry or Ginny. It was smooth like silk, but the voice was too late. She was gone.
xXx
Hermione couldn't remember falling asleep. That fact alone made her not want to open her eyes again after the haunting dream that felt too real. It had to be real. The man, Tom, promised to find some memory of her prior life. Though, she couldn't remember much at all anyway, so maybe that hadn't happened. No memories at all. Well, except for those first few minutes that her glassy eyes had opened to a new world, and possibly, hopefully, that dream was a memory as well. The dream would only make sense if it was real. The voice at the end sounded so familiar, the only voice she had heard in this new life. The voice wanted to help her, and she knew that it had to have been Tom.
She remembered him, Tom, and the sick adoration laced in his eyes. Anyone in her situation would be wary. Yet, this man, as he had said, was not the one who rid her of her sense of self. No, that was someone called Harry Potter. That name haunted her. It made her shiver. He must have been the one with the jet-black hair and those hauntingly beautiful green eyes in her dream. But, she did not understand why he had taken such drastic measures with her in that dream. How could someone rip away someone else's essence?
Because of this, the only one she could truly attempt to trust was Tom. He promised to bring back her memories, at least a little bit of them. That dream must have been his attempt while she was sleeping. He could have charmed her to sleep, which could be why she did not remember falling asleep. She knew he wanted to help her, and if that voice was his, it definitely was true. By the way he had looked at her the prior night, she surmised that they must have been close in the time before her memories had been erased. No one but a friend would have been willing to help her. She could trust him, for she really did not have any another choice, especially if he was that voice.
So, it was time. She opened her eyes. Her surroundings were dim and dusty. She sought out Tom. He was seated right next to her, and he was twiddling something in his hand. It gleamed silver and green. A small, iridescent ring.
"Did you dream?" Tom questioned, noting her fluttering eyes. But he was still focused on the ring in his grip.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice testing the air. Tom nodded.
"What did you dream?" Tom said, pressing her further.
"A man and a woman, we were fighting, the man cursed me, and I heard a voice." Hermione told him. "What that a memory of mine?"
Tom smirked. "Yes, Hermione, as you were sleeping I attempted some magic to conjure up some semblance of memory. I am afraid that that may probably be all I will be able to conjure. But you saw him? Harry Potter?"
"Yes, I called the man, Harry. He had jet-black hair, green eyes, and glasses. There was this redheaded woman with him named Ginny. The only thing I do not understand is why they would do that to me." Hermione clarified.
"Because they were fearful of your growing power," Tom informed her. "Harry Potter is our enemy, Hermione."
Disappointed, Hermione nodded. There was something about Harry's name that made her sad, as though Tom was not telling her everything about him. She believed that they must have been friends, maybe long ago. But now, he wanted to kill her. It could be easier for him now, as Hermione felt like a shell of someone who once was.
"Do you recognize this ring?" Tom then asked without turning her way.
"No," she answered, turning towards him on her side to get a better look at the enchanting ring. Finally, he looked towards her, a hint of a smile on his face.
"Put it on," he ordered, his arm reaching out towards her. Feebly, she stretched out her right arm. He scowled and instead snatched her left hand instead. His touch made her shiver. Carefully, he slipped the piece of jewelry onto her ring finger and smirked.
"What's this for?" Hermione asked cautiously.
"It was on you before. I made a few adjustments that I felt suited me," he responded with a twitch of his thin lips. "For us."
"Oh."
Tom leaned in closer to her. With his face a breath's length away from hers, he spoke elegantly, "Do you recall Hogwarts?"
She shook her head, and he reached out and caressed her cheek. His hand was cold, his fingers long and bony. Against her, his touch felt empty, as though he could not feel warmth. Of course, that could not be true. Even she knew that was inhuman. Impossible. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and forced herself to submit to his cold touch.
"Hogwarts is a school of magic, a place one can call home. When magical children are eleven their parents send them to the school. They are then separated into four different houses, which are Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor," Tom elaborated. He spat out 'Gryffindor' as though it were an insult. "We were both in Slytherin, and its colors are silver and green. It's why I chose those colors for the ring you wear."
"I was educated there?" Hermione asked, inching herself up into a seated position.
"Yes, we both were," Tom answered.
"On magic?"
"Yes."
"That's…amazing," Hermione said in awe. She smiled to herself. So, she had been special.
"I agree."
Hermione paused, though her eyes did not leave Tom. He remained focused on her as well. She studied him and surmised that he must be in his late twenties. It was only logical. He was handsome, so handsome; she could not even deny it. His aura radiated confidence. She also knew that the buzzing around them, no, the singing, must be their magic, happy and content.
Seeing his face made her want to see her own. She had no idea what she looked like. The thought made her uncomfortable, but curious to see herself. She could be absolutely anything. Thus, she peered around the dusty room, and saw a mirror perched on the opposite wall. Carefully, she pushed herself off of the bed and began to walk towards it. Tom flinched
Hermione crossed the room towards the mirror. It had a crack in the top corner and the dust that coated it made it lackluster. For the first time, with her new unprecedented mind, she saw herself. The first feature that she noticed was her hair. It was large, brown and bushy, just like a well-used broom. Perhaps that could have been due to an excessive amount of rest. Though, her face revealed the opposite. It was sallow and worn, and she had bags under her eyes. She titled her head, so that she knew that it indeed was hers. She supposed she was young, a little younger than Tom appeared to be.
Behind her, she noticed Tom approaching her. He stopped right behind her, his breath tickling her neck. She glanced at his reflection piercing in the mirror. He was much taller than she, and he looked stern at the moment as he studied her as well. She could tell that he believed that any of her actions were unpredictable. She was new and fresh. Whoever her old self had been was sadly gone, so she could be a surprise.
"How old am I?" Hermione suddenly asked him.
He took a moment to answer while his head bent slightly towards hers. "About twenty-five."
"And you?"
Tom chuckled, "Hard to tell?"
Hermione wanted to know, but she did not press him further. Tom brought his hand forward and gripped hers. They both reveled in the electricity of the touch, but his touch was still so cold. Briskly, he turned her around so that she was facing him. Merlin, he was so close. She wanted to reach out and caress his cheek as he did hers before. He was all she knew, the only other like her around, and she was desperate to learn. But she restrained herself. He was all she knew, but not what she knew well.
"You need to be taught anew, my dear," Tom told her. "We must refresh your skills if you are ever to regain yourself."
Eagerly, she nodded her head. Oh, how she thirsted to learn, thirsted for this surge of magic, which she was feeling around her to be released. She could tell that he wanted the same by the way his eyes gleamed. His hand that did not grace hers reached into his pocket and pulled out a wooden stick.
"This is your wand," Tom informed her. Amazed, she released his hand and snatched the wand, her wand. The wand buzzed with joy, and she felt as though she were home with it in her hands. If this was how magic felt, she wanted to feel it all the time. "I first want you to cast a basic spell that any first year can recall. Can you remember any simple spells?"
"Erm," she muttered, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall a simple spell. She felt a whisper enter her mind, trusting it, she spat out what it said, "Wingardium Leviosa?"
"Very good," Tom said, and smiled. "Go ahead, cast it on anything."
Hermione bit her lip and glanced around the dim room. She searched for anything that could be suitable. Disappointed at the lack of unique objects to lift, she looked again at Tom. She smirked, and mischievousness surged within her.
She pointed her wand at him and said, "Wingardium Leviosa."
Slowly, the spell lifted him off of the ground. The kindness that had been in his eyes a mere second ago melted into anger. His hands went to his sides, and he pushed himself back down with the force of his own magic. It surged around them, fighting furiously against her magic, and appearing like smoke, left his fingertips. His breath was like raging fire. Against his pressure, her spell faded away, and he stormed towards her once his feet were on the ground. His hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her towards the wall. She was flush against him, and apprehension dripped through her as heavy heaves.
"Never again," Tom snarled like vicious snake. "You do not use your magic against me unless I request it. You do as I say, and only as I say. Understood, my little monster?"
Fearfully, Hermione nodded her head. Tom snatched her wand away from her hand. She could feel the wand's sorrow. Then Tom pulled her away from the wall and pushed her towards the bathroom door.
"Go clean yourself up," Tom ordered. "Then we'll practice more magic. You will not dare do such a thing again."
Hermione stumbled towards the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She sniffed, and crumbled against the bathroom door, tears daring to slip. Who was this man?
His voice echoed in her mind. No matter how fearful he liked to appear, she wanted more.
xXx
After Hermione had left the bathroom and cleaned up, the two of them practiced more magic. Yet, Tom had become sterner than he was when she had woken up. After casting a few spells in the motel room, Tom desired to go somewhere with more space to practice more complex spells. So, through magic, he transported her to an empty field, though she did not know where exactly they were. But, they spent the rest of the sunlit hours there. No one else came across them. Tom had seemed pleased with her progress throughout the day, though Hermione remained wary of any sudden outburst like before. Her mind was eager to absorb any knowledge, but she wanted desperately to know how she ended up with Tom. The situation was so very strange. Had she betrayed that man, Harry Potter? No, she couldn't have, it just didn't seem right. Tom said that Harry was their enemy. Harry Potter could have betrayed them.
Yet, as the day had worn on, they practiced progressively harder spells. Throughout the lesson, she noted how much more powerful Tom was than her. No matter how callous he had been, Tom truly was a force to be reckoned with. She was amazed that he had chosen her to repair and waste his time with.
At the end of the lesson the two of them dueled with spells he refreshed her on. His magic defeated hers quite easily, but he had told her that she had done very well. They had used a variety of spells from Expelliarmus to Stupefy and to Protego. Tom had informed her that these were dueling basics that every good wizard or witch must know.
Their days wore on the same. In the field, Tom had taught her how to transfigure trees and passing animals and how to change them back. They fought together, and Hermione felt herself growing more powerful day by day. Sometimes he left her alone in the motel room with textbooks on magic while he did things he did not inform her on. He would only tell her that he had some other followers or business to tend to. She did not mind him leaving her alone. She loved the books he gave her more than anything. While he was gone, she never tried to leave. For she had the feeling that she would not be able to leave even if she tried. Tom was very protective of her. Often when he would grip her, the way that he'd look at her screamed possession. Hermione did not mind it too much, not when it meant that he was teaching her magic. Without him, no doubt, she would be lost in this cavernous world.
When he'd return from wherever he had been on those nights, they would practice the spells that she had read about. After a few weeks passed, he brought her potion books, a cauldron, and potpourri of ingredients. So, Hermione had grown to appreciate him. She felt a strange affection for him, even though sometimes she felt like a prisoner in the confined hotel room. Yet, she did not mind it, not one bit. He enraptured her.
At night as she would fall asleep she'd ask him about her previous life and his life. He'd tell her that she was an honored follower as he'd pet her head affectionately as though she were a child or a pet. She liked the way his hand roamed around her body. Sometimes she felt an urge to grab him and pull him into the bed with her. Though, he never seemed to sleep himself. Hermione believed he watched her as she slept. Sometimes she'd wake and he'd be stroking her arm or elsewhere. His cold touch was intoxicating. Hermione desired to feel more of him, to bring him closer, but she never tried.
He was her teacher, and she, the ever eager pupil.
To him though, she was far, far more.
xXx
Weeks after they had first started practicing magic, Hermione left the bathroom, and noticed that Tom was pacing across the room. He seemed like he was debating with himself over some matter or another. He was muttering, and did not notice her enter until she cleared her throat to capture his attention. Tom whipped around and stared at her for a moment before a wicked grin formed.
"Hermione, we're going to do something different today," Tom announced.
"Are we going somewhere?" she asked. She did crave to see more of the outside world besides for the motel and the empty field. The rest of the world was the main chunk of her that was missing. She wanted to smell freshly mowed grass and bookstores. She yearned to breathe the air of Wizarding civilization, and to see other wizards casting spells and smiling with joy. She craved the world, and was disappointed when Tom said otherwise.
"No, my dear, we're going to stay right in this motel. But I'm going to teach you a different sort of magic today as I feel you've perfected what I've taught you already," Tom elaborated.
"Oh, what kind of magic?" Hermione asked, curious but eager, no longer considering asking Tom to go out.
"Dark magic," Tom answered with a red glint flickering in his eyes.
Hermione took a small step back, and tilted her head. Dark magic? Hermione never thought something so light, pure and free like magic could ever be dark. But, she could not deny the eagerness that lay within her to learn it. She supposed it was just another whole branch of magic that had to be learned, but she did not think that it could be evil no matter its title. Just...dark.
"I think we should jump right into it, you don't need to learn any special types of dark curses just yet. There are a basic three that any powerful wizard can perform, only if you mean it," Tom continued, but Hermione did not respond. "These three curses have special power to them. They can make the most innocent person a conqueror. They are how I became so powerful myself."
Desperate to know and be as powerful as Tom, Hermione asked, "What are they?"
"The Imperius Curse is one that when cast can control another to do your bidding," Tom said, and Hermione drew closer to him, biting down on her lip, entranced by the way Tom was speaking. He mesmerized her utterly and completely.
"And?"
"The Cruciatus Curse, it tortures the one it is cast upon," Tom continued.
"And?"
"The Killing Curse, which I believe speaks for itself," Tom finished and Hermione was standing right in front of him. He looped his arm around her waist, pressing her close to him.
"A Killing Curse? Magic really-?"
"Yes, my dear, it does, and it will."
"I don't think I could cast such a spell."
"Yes, you can, Hermione, and you will," Tom goaded her, as his lips loomed by her neck. She felt the tickle of his breath ease her in and relax her. Suddenly, his lips pressed down and kissed the crook of her neck. She gasped, and then he was sucking the supple skin. She felt the graze of his teeth against her, and she moaned.
"I can?" Hermione murmured as his kisses traveled up her neck. How he tortured her. His lips pressed against her jawlines, and the tip of his tongue touched her. Soon his lips trailed the skin next to her lips, which parted for his. But then, his lips left her, and she only felt his hot breath gracing hers.
"You can and you will," Tom said, so softly. Hermione nodded. She couldn't say no to him. His hand traveled down and gripped hers. "I already have our first victim, my sweet."
"You do? Already."
"Yes, I do. I've wanted to teach you for a time now," Tom revealed, and pulled her with him towards the door of the motel room. His other hand turned the knob, and the sun poured down on them. All Hermione had seen for the past few weeks had been their room and that empty field. She had not even what the world right outside the room looked like. That was what she was missing, not freshly mowed grass or bookstores, but what was right in front of her.
Yet, she found that she did not care too much as she thought she would have. All she wanted in that moment was for Tom's lips to touch her again. She felt teased and tempted.
Tom pulled her out of their room and opened the door to the room right next to theirs. Inside the room was an old man facing away from them. Hearing the door creaking made him turn around, and he bowed when he saw Tom.
"My Lord," the old man greeted, and for a flicker of a second the old man's eyes glinted towards Hermione, but the old man pretended that he had made no notice of her. My Lord; those were two words that Tom had told her some people call him. But, she did not have to, because he said she was special to him.
"Lestrange," Tom reciprocated. "This is my dear, Hermione. Hermione, this is one of my loyal followers, Lestrange."
Once again, the old man, now Lestrange, bowed, but this time he faced her. Hermione was shocked at the appreciation. This old man was the first person she had seen besides for Tom. It was strange. She had become so used to Tom's dark, entrancing beauty. Seeing this man, with his raspy voice, grey hair, and wrinkles, she was reminded of the decay of the world.
"Lestrange, today I am teaching Hermione about dark curses, a subject of which you know so much about. That is why I invited you here today," Tom informed, and Hermione thought for a moment that Tom sounded like he was taunting Lestrange, but she must have been mistaken.
"Yes, my Lord, I do," Lestrange confirmed.
"Tell me Lestrange, for Hermione's benefit, how you feel when you cast a Cruciatus?"
"Powerful, my Lord, I feel immensely powerful," Lestrange divulged with a nasty sneer exacerbated by his wrinkles. To Hermione, the old man seemed to be hiding his fear and tiredness behind the nasty sneer.
"Do you know that Hermione wishes to feel powerful again? I can see it within her. Our weeks of practice have not fulfilled her potential. She's incomplete. Do you know why this is, Lestrange?" Tom drawled, beckoning Lestrange to his challenge.
"No, my Lord," Lestrange responded with a shake of his head.
"I do, she has not experienced using her magic against someone so much weaker than her," Tom finished with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Tom-."
"M-my Lord?"
"Yes, come here, Hermione, that's right, in front of me," Tom requested, but she knew it was an order. He latched onto her arm, slipped her wand in her grip and pointed it at Lestrange.
Hermione stared at Lestrange, not allowing him to see the vulnerability within her. If he was one of Tom's followers, he could be very accomplished, and escape. Tom would be very disappointed if she'd end up accidentally allowing the old man to flee. Hermione did not enjoy making Tom upset, not since their first full day together, not since her first spell, Wingardium Leviosa. Though, he said she was powerful. She just had to prove it to herself.
"Do you want to feel the power, Hermione?" Tom whispered as he parted her hair away from her ear and leaned in closer like a tempting snake. "Do you want to feel control?
"Yes," she admitted, unashamed and prepared. Hermione drew in a deep breath, cracked her neck and brought her wand out of Tom's grip. "Tell me what to say."
"Say Crucio, my little monster. Make him feel pain. You want this."
"Crucio!" Hermione intoned, moving her wand like a flash of lightning until the red spark left it. How she wanted to please Tom, to be his, to be hers, and to be powerful. The curse hit Lestrange, and he was knocked backwards and slammed against the wall. His limbs flailed about, and the man appeared to be in all-consuming pain that was red-hot and angry, eager to please just as Hermione was. She felt connected to the curse, so she glowered at Lestrange, and the more anger she felt, the more pain Lestrange was encompassed in. Lestrange screamed.
"My Lord!" Lestrange shrieked, and all he was now was a needy, petulant child to Hermione.
"Very good, Hermione, you may stop," Tom informed her. Hermione nodded and relinquished her hold over the curse. Lestrange slumped against the ground and he sharply gasped, desperate for the air around him. "I knew you were capable, but this was amazing."
"Thank you, Tom." Hermione smiled, but did not turn around to look at him, she was slightly taken by how in pain Lestrange still seemed to be in.
"How do you feel, Lestrange, when you kill someone?" Tom pestered, goading the tortured man.
"Victorious," Lestrange croaked. Tom chuckled cruelly.
"Kill him," Tom ordered, heartless and cold. Hermione tilted her head and glossed over her victim.
"My Lord, please!" Lestrange begged, and he slumped over and tried to perch himself on his knees. But his legs gave out and his chest smacked on the ground under him. His clasped hands were his prayer, and she and Tom, his gods.
"You are old and hollow, so therefore you are no longer of use, except for target practice," Tom taunted. "Do it, Hermione, say Avada Kedavra with one strong, fluid motion of your wand."
"Avada Kedavra," Hermione immediately uttered, and a flash of green, somehow so familiar to her, shot out of her wand. It smacked onto Lestrange. His clasped hands gave out, and his head hit the ground, shattering his chin and his life.
In an instant, she felt Tom's cold, long, pallid hands on her shoulders. They turned her around until she was facing him. He looked at her with adoration and lust. Hermione knew for a long time that he had wanted her just as much as she had wanted him.
"Merlin, you're so beautiful," Tom beamed.
Hermione did not have a chance to respond before Tom brought himself forward and pressed his thin lips to hers. His lips were soft and intoxicating. Hermione brought her arms behind his neck and pulled him against her. His arms roamed down, settling on the small of her back. He parted from her and smiled at her, a smile so genuine, completely unlike what she had seen from him before. Tom pushed her down onto the bed, the one Lestrange was in front of, and crawled over her body, which was aching with need.
Tom tore off his shirt and began to unbutton his trousers. Hermione took off her own shirt, and Tom seemed mesmerized. He bent down and dropped kisses traveling up her stomach and towards her sternum. He reached behind her and unbuttoned her bra, slipped the straps off her shoulders, and ripped it off her. His lips sucked on her breasts and his tongue traced her nipples. She moaned as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin.
"So, beautiful," Tom muttered between kisses as he traveled up her neck towards her lips. Hovering over her lips, he uttered, "I've waited so long."
"Keep going," Hermione urged. Her hands gripped his hips, and her fingers slipped under his boxers and pulled them down. He kicked off his pants, and noting that she had far too many clothes on, reached for her pants and took them off. For a moment he stared at her damp, cotton panties. He bit down on the elastic of the material and dragged it down her thighs until it reached her knees.
Tom then stood on his knees in front of her. Hermione was taken by him, by his stark, naked beauty kneeling in front of her while she was lying on the bed. She was under his whim, under his command, under his control. Merlin, he could do whatever he wished to her.
"Say my name," Tom commanded, all kindness lost.
"Tom," Hermione breathed out, awaiting him.
"My real name."
"W-what?"
"Voldemort," Tom informed her, "I am Lord Voldemort, and you, my Hermione, you are my venom."
"Voldemort," Hermione repeated, and licked her tongue over her top lip, testing the new name, and thinking of what she was to him. "Voldemort."
xXx
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and sorry again for its lateness! I had difficulty with this chapter in arranging it. Also, I've been rather distracted lately, I started a new show and I got a lead, so that has taken a huge portion of my schedule! And added stress of life also.
So yeah, Hermione is completely different, and fyi, this is not a healthy relationship haha. So basically he's manipulating her and making her someone new to suit him, she's still ever so smart and powerful, but similar to him, and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter even though she is rather different and vulnerable.
I'm going to do the same thing again and those who review (only those with fanfiction accounts and PMs) will get a preview of the next chapter.
Thanks again! Please review! I want to know what you guys are thinking! Please let me know!
Love,
Montley
