Sirius snorted, but turned back to the table, looking from one seat to the
next around the square table, before reluctantly sitting down. Hermione
smiled and sat on the corner next to him, and Voldemort sat down on
Hermione's other side. Snape stared at the empty seat, and refused to sit.
"Oh sit down, Severus. The food's getting cold," Hermione said. Snape sneered at her.
"I refuse to sit next to a flea-bitten dog," Snape said silkily.
"As if I wanted to sit next to a greasy overgrown bat," Sirius growled.
Voldemort rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, forcing Snape's body to rise three feet in the air, hovering three feet over the chair in a sitting position. Voldemort smirked and put his wand back, causing Snape to fall rudely into his chair.
"There. That's better," Voldemort said, and turned his attention to the table. Gesturing at the pot, he turned toward his bride. "Could you inform us as to the nature of its contents?"
Hermione frowned, and pulled the lid off, using her wand to lazily levitate portions of food on to the four plates on the table. "Pesto," she said. "An Italian pasta dish made with basil, olive oil, pine nuts, garlic, and parma..."
Snape cut her off, saying, "I've put up with your know-it-all-ness for seven years – quite enough, don't you think?"
"I was merely answering a question," Hermione said coldly. "And it was the same at school as well." She said a spell, allowing milk to pour from her wand into the four glasses, and summoned a pan of marinated chicken from the kitchen, forking out pieces on to the four plates before putting her wand in her pocket. She dug her fork into the pasta on her plate, noticing that although Voldemort was eating his half-heartedly, the other plates went untouched.
Sirius watched her out of the corner of his eye nervously, watching her eat her first bite – Hermione's eyebrows knitted together, until she realized why she was the only one eating.
"Sirius – /I/ cooked dinner – Tom thinks himself above 'house-elf duties,' as he puts it," Hermione said hollowly. Voldemort growled deep in his throat, and Sirius relaxed, and speared the chicken with his fork – Snape did likewise with his pasta, seeing his fears proved falsely. Sirius was eating like a starved man, helping himself to more in the pot and levitating more chicken out of the kitchen, but Snape was eating slowly, mostly stirring food around on his plate; it was the same way at Hogwarts.
That wasn't the problem though; Hermione hadn't expected anything else. What bothered her was the tense, heavy silence...it was extremely quiet – hardly seemed like a meal, compared to the loud and boisterous feasts at Hogwarts. It was as if the three others didn't know how to cross the gulf between themselves, or how to cut across the silence – it was as if there was nothing to say...sure, they had ran into each other over the years and talked, but never really held a civilized conversation...
Hermione had invited Sirius and Snape for dinner because she had pictured the dinners she had had with her family on Sunday nights in the summer – her parents, herself, and her sister – just talking, enjoying themselves, enjoying being in each other's company, chatting about the latest in the news, or the past weekend, or plans for the week, or someone's birthday, or just about anything...it was perhaps wishful thinking, nostalgic to that time during summer vacations, that motivated her to invite them. And she wanted the two men, enemies since they first met, to one day not just form a truce like Dumbledore requested in her third year, but an acquaintance, and eventually a friendship.
And she didn't want it to go back to just being herself and Voldemort...she may call him Tom to his face, but otherwise she just thought of him as "Lord Voldemort," not really connecting the bitter past and the man in the textbooks, the person haunting her best friend, with her soul-mate next to her. The silence settling on the four seemed to suffocate Hermione; it was as if she couldn't breathe...at least she wasn't the only one who noticed it. Sirius was the first to break the silence.
"This is so weird," Sirius said thickly through a mouthful of chicken, referring to the fact that he was eating dinner with his nemesis since schooldays, the feared Voldemort he worked against, and his best friend's son's friend.
"For once in your life, Black, I agree with you," Snape said, not looking up from his plate, glaring at the noodles on his plate.
Sirius choked on his mouthful of chicken, and started coughing. Hermione jerked her head towards him, startled, but no one else seemed to care. Voldemort continued eating as if nothing happened, and Snape was /grinning./ Sirius tried drinking from his glass, but couldn't get it down...he continued coughing, or trying to...and Hermione was going over the CPR she had learned long ago in her head.
Snape was staring dreamily at Sirius – not as if he was infatuated with him, but rather, finally witnessing the man's death, and his dreams come true. Voldemort wiped his lipless mouth with the napkin on his lap, and glanced at Sirius, a mask of indifference on his face, not caring for Sirius' welfare. Hermione was watching her friend's godfather worriedly....she valued him as a dear friend... Sirius clasped his arms at his throat, as if trying to grope for the food and dislodge it...and he sputtered and stopped coughing. Voldemort jerked his head up at the sudden silence...Sirius' face was going pallid in color – his lips were bluish.
Hermione stood up so fast her chair tipped over, and she pulled Sirius' chair back, letting him fall against her. She uprighted him, wrapped her arms around him, and made a fist just below his ribcage, at the base of his sternum. She wrapped her other hand around her fist and jerked upward – the Hemilich maneuver, as she didn't know what wizards did instead ...
Snape looked perplexed as he tried to figure out what she was doing- pressing on Sirius' diaphragm to make artificial coughs to unblock his airway. Voldemort, being in a muggle orphanage during his youth, had no doubt heard about CPR or seen it on an old fuzzy black-and-white TV...of course wizards and magical folk had a simple spewing spell...she was a smart witch...so why did she bother with rudimentary muggle methods?
Seeing him turning bluer in the face, Hermione watched his chest – he wasn't breathing. She breathed deeply and rolled up her sleeves, knowing what she had to do. She pushed his plate and place setting further back on the table, and oriented Sirius so his upper body was lying on the table. She pushed his long matted brown hair out of his face, tilted his head back, and watching his chest, put her mouth on his and exhaled quickly, inhaled through her nose, and exhaled into his mouth again, before lifting her head, watching his chest for signs of breathing.
She reached into his mouth, pulling out the bit of chicken, and quickly wiped her hand on his napkin. She repeated the breathing every five seconds ...Snape looked disgusted – nauseous, as if he just found out there was some not-too-pleasant ingredient in the pasta he just ate. Voldemort was watching his wife in undisguised fascination – there was just something about actually seeing someone practice CPR on a person, saving their life – She cared enough about Sirius to perform that...would she attempt to do the same for him, if he was in Sirius' shoes? ...He found it interesting that she preferred the muggle method to a simple Healing spell...he noticed that Hermione refused to look at either his or Snape's faces, refused to think of anything except trying to save Sirius' life...
About a minute and a half later, when Hermione had given Sirius another two breaths in a series, his eyes fluttered open on the second. Hermione lifted her head and watched his chest – it was rising and falling – he was breathing. She looked back at his face, and looking into his dark brown sunken eyes, she helped him to his feet. He stood, hunched over like a man who had endured too much suffering in his life (and he had), and stared at her.
He remembered Voldemort ignoring him completely, Snape staring at him choking half-to-death, a look of undisguised glee on his face, and then Hermione – Harry's best friend, Voldemort's wife...whatever...it felt like she was kissing him spread on the table almost...so confusing...
The first words he said were, "What the - ?"
"You choked and stopped breathing," Hermione said quickly. "I – I saved you."
"Uh – ah, thank you..." Sirius said, at a loss for words...so she wasn't that evil then...a good thing to tell the Order. Only Dumbledore, Draco, the Death Eaters, Snape, Wormtail, and Sirius apart from the couple themselves, knew about the marriage at this point. Of course, people would eventually find out, but no matter. Sirius' mind was brought back to the discussion at hand – Voldemort was voicing his thoughts on something...
"I'm curious as to why you chose the muggle method opposed to a simple Healing spell," Voldemort said finally.
Hermione looked at him unseeingly, searching her memory for the spell. "Ah yes," she said softly. "I remember...we learned it in sixth year. There's many muggle things I prefer to magical methods – muggle life isn't THAT bad... I just – I guess our childhoods never truly leave us," she said, as if that explained it. And in a way, it did. Sirius didn't touch the rest of his food - clearly he had lost his appetite at his near-death. Hermione looked at him concerned, and smiled – suddenly, she broke out laughing...the happiest she had been in weeks.
"First you save my life, and then you start laughing at me?" Sirius asked, taking on a false offended tone.
Hermione waved the comment away apologetically. "No – not at you...I was just thinking along the lines of our conversation before you choked – the only way this would be weirder is if it were Harry in my place instead...
"Very disturbing thought," Voldemort said.
"And I agree with you – amazing – you and Snape on the same night! Wow! Harry'll write me up for traitor-ism, but no matter..."
"Why does every conversation have to center around that damned Potter?" Snape said irritably. "Death Eater meetings, Order meetings, meetings with Dumbledore – it's all everyone talks about!" He paused, and then added as an after thought. "And the Dark Lord."
"Perhaps it could be because millions of lives are at stake as to the outcome of this war – and many will have their lives changed vastly for the better or worse simply by whether Potter wins or I win," Voldemort said softly, glaring at Snape.
"Screw the prophecy!" Hermione yelled. "Are you really going to let Trelawney's bloody prediction decide your bloody fate? There's got to be another way!"
"Like all Seers, she has the power to see the future – if it's already determined, then there's no other way," Voldemort said coolly, talking to Hermione slowly and deliberately as if speaking to a small child. "Potter will die," he said so firmly, there was no question.
Hermione dropped her fork with a clatter and stood up for the second time that evening, shoving his chair so he was forced to look up at her seething face, fierce-eyed, rigid, blood pounding in her temples. He stood up as well, not liking to look up at someone.
"The only reason I married you was to end the blasted hate in this world!" Hermione shrieked. It was too late that she realized she had just given away her secret plan – the plan she had refused to tell anyone, and that she had now just revealed to the person she least wanted to find out.
Voldemort stared into her nutmeg eyes, bright with anger. And Hermione was glaring into his cold red eyes, like fire in his fury. He squeezed her shoulder tightly, but Hermione didn't flinch from the pain he was inflicting on her. "And," he said softly. "The only reason I asked for your hand in marriage was to break Potter, to get information."
The two were unmindful, oblivious of their two witnesses in their second fight tonight – it was the day after they got married, and was far from anything remotely resembling a blissful honeymoon.
"Oh really?" Hermione said, staring into his eyes. "Then the question remains, do you really /love/ me?" she asked, with eyes open to her soul, wild with emotions swimming within them. Anger. Regret. Hurt. Melancholy. He turned his head, looking at the floor to the left of her feet, not meeting her eyes.
"I could ask you the same question," he said, an octave lower than normal.
"Living with you hasn't been easy, and trying on my sanity, but yes. I love you," Hermione admitted softly, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice – she was telling the truth. She looked at him expectantly, and he realized she needed an answer.
"I wouldn't want you dead," Voldemort said softly, raising his head to meet her eyes. His cold red eyes with cat-slit pupils...frozen with hatred over the years...she saw no emotion in his eyes now – just cold frostiness set in eyes like a vampire's...
"So that's it then?" Hermione asked, blinking back tears. "You don't love me. You don't even like me. You just – don't want me dead. Is that it? So that's as far as your affection goes for me? You won't be seeing me much longer then – I'll just leave your life shall I? I mean, it is what you want..." She cut off, realizing she was starting to ramble.
He stared at her blankly – he had no idea in all his years, how to deal with something like this. He pulled his wand out and pointed it at her – it was what he was used to, what he would usually do in various situations. Hermione grabbed his wand and flung it over her shoulder, and walked out the front door. Once outside, she ran – ran to the gate, to the ends of the wards, and dissapparated.
Voldemort watched her go, his eyes shimmering with an unreadable emotion. He turned, and nearly jumped at seeing Sirius and Snape there. Snape looked annoyed at having to witness yet another lover's quarrel...he lit a fire in the fireplace and flooed back to his Potions lab.
Which left Sirius, who was glaring at Voldemort. "Smart move," Sirius said coolly. "All you had to do was say those three words – you wouldn't even have to mean it, and she'd probably be kissing you right now." He paused to chug down the rest of his milk, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. He continued, "If you really care about her, give her a few days – she'll come back eventually – just, give her a poem and flowers or something..." He stopped to pick up Voldemort's wand on the floor, and thrust it in his hand. "And you could be nicer. And I don't even know why I'm giving /you/ love advice," Sirius said slowly, thinking as he spoke, and he left, walking out the front door and apparating like Hermione did, not looking back once.
Voldemort sighed deeply, and sat down in his seat, pushing his food back, holding his head in his hands. He suddenly felt very old – and stupid. What had he done?
------------------------------------------------------------------
Hermione apparated in the Burrow's living room – it was around seven at night. Molly Weasley was there, knitting a sweater, for a Christmas present, perhaps, as it was mid October...Christmas was two months away.
She looked up, startled at the pop accompanying an apparition.
Seeing Hermione standing in her living room, her face red and shining with tears, Molly leapt up, letting her knitting fall to the floor as she embraced Hermione in a hug, smoothing back her frazzled curly brown hair. She let Hermione cry into her shoulder.
For a long time – who knows how long – moments, minutes, hours...Molly just held Hermione and let her cry.
The only other one in the house were Ron...Fred and George were living in a flat above their business, Arthur was working late again, and of course, Percy, Bill, and Charlie had moved out long ago. Ginny was a seventh year at Hogwarts. And Ron had been outside having a late flight on his broomstick – he still hadn't officially moved out yet, lazy git that he is...he came in when it was too dark to see, and dropped his broomstick, seeing his friend of many years, and once a crush...she was such a mess...Ron joined in the hug – even for being oblivious to the obvious, he noticed Hermione's red, bloodshot eyes with crying, the tears falling down her face, her messy bedhead hair, her wrinkled robes...Ron glanced at his mother – she glared at him warningly, knowing his temper would sometimes snap.
At last, Hermione fell silent, having no more tears left to cry...Molly guided her to the old, secondhand red plaid sofa, brightened with knitted covers and a knitted blanket folded on an armrest.
Molly wrapped the blanket around Hermione, seeing as it was mid-October night, and sat beside her. Ron sat on his friend's other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders awkwardly, not knowing what else to do...he was as bad with women as Harry was – Ron still remembered vividly Harry's difficulties with Cho and their breakup about four years ago.
Hermione sniffed and clutched the blanket closer to her...she was a mess. She didn't know why she suddenly started crying...
It was when she clutched the blanket that Ron noticed the golden band on her finger – he stared at in surprise – Molly was frowning at him, until she realized what he was looking at.
"Married are you, my dear?" Molly said gently, before Ron could say something potentially upsetting and insensitive, as he was sure to do.
"What?" Hermione said, and looked down at her hand. "Oh. Um – yes..." she said, having trouble shaping her mouth around the words – she wasn't keen on the topic, so Molly didn't ask any further questions, and shook her head at Ron, who looked ready to say something. She couldn't stop him though, when he noticed a sterling silver ring on Hermione's right hand – a sterling silver ring in the shape of a snake winding around her finger, complete with a winding tail on top of her finger and an intricate head, complete with scales trailing down the body, and two tiny ruby eyes.
Ron looked bewildered – the same way Goyle did when asked a question in class during their seven years at Hogwarts. Seeing Ron's look, Hermione quickly put her hand inside the blanket.
"Where did you get that, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Where did I get what?"
"That – that snake-ring..."
She pulled her hand out – it was too late, she knew it. "Oh this?" she said, and forced a laugh, that sounded fake, even to her ears. "It was a family heirloom on my husband's mother's side of the family – I found it this morning while cleaning – couldn't take my eyes off it, so he gave it to me."
Ron guffawed, staring at her in disbelief. "But Hermione," he said, still laughing, clutching his side. "That's a Slytherin ring, isn't it? Kind of odd for snake jewelry to be passed down on your husband's side of the family...unless..." Yes, Ron's brain had finally caught up with what he was saying. His face fell, and all laughter died from his face. In fact, his face paled, so the freckles stood out starkly against his skin, and he was unknowingly holding his breath.
"Yes, Ron," Hermione said softly. "I married a Slytherin." Ron screamed, and backed away from her. Molly rolled her eyes, and gave Hermione an apologetic look, hugging her, and glaring expectantly at Ron.
"H-Her-Hermione?" Ron stuttered. "Wh-Who was it? Do I want to know? Is it anyone I know?"
"Yes," Hermione said slowly, stroking the ring – she had dearly hoped Ron was elsewhere when she fell into Molly's arms... "You know him. Quite well." She could tell this would take a long time...why not make it fun as well? A mischievous grin spread on her face. "He's – well, I guess, the epitome of Slytherins – evil. Not nice. Dark. And, well, he's not on the best of terms with Harry...they've tried to kill each other on more than one occasion."
She let that sink in, and glanced nervously at Molly – she had of course, by now had a more narrowed idea of who Hermione was talking about...had several ideas. Ron still didn't get it.
"Merlin – please, Hermione – tell me you didn't marry Blaise Zambini!"
Hermione looked confused. Blaise Zambini? The mild-mannered, quiet Slytherin who made friends with everybody, and should've gone to Ravenclaw? "No," Hermione said, annoyed. "Think – more Slytherin."
It continued into a guessing game for the next few minutes, as Ron named slightly more evil Slytherins, naming everyone from Crabbe to Pansy Parkinson, a girl, to Susan Bones, who wasn't a Slytherin at all. Molly left for a bit, before coming back with a cup of tea.
Ron was getting more and more panicky by the minute. Finally, he reached Draco – Hermione said no, he breathed a sigh of relief, before thinking of Snape – when Hermione said more evil, Ron shook his head, saying he couldn't think of any others, and coming to the conclusion that Hermione bought the rings in a muggle store to annoy him and was really single and going to his house because she secretly wanted to go out with him, and then that she bought the rings off Fred and George for revenge on him – Hermione shook her head.
"Ronald Weasley," she said seriously. Ron jerked his head, hearing his full name rolling off her tongue. "I married Lord Voldemort."
Needless to say, Ron fell off the couch, backing away from her, grabbing a cross Arthur stole from a raid off the table, and warding her off with it – he backed away to the door, before Molly grabbed his arm, scolding him for acting foolishly, and saying that he must support Hermione for being forced through this most unwanted marriage, and that he should help get her out of it, and ease her pain.
Hermione blew a lock of hair out of her face in frustration, and flooed out – it was hopeless.
She had steeled herself up for something like this – she expected to be hurt like this from marrying Lord Voldemort – he wasn't Prince Charming anymore than Professor Snape was. But it still caught her unprepared – honestly – "I wouldn't want you dead?" – that could go the same for his Death Eaters' children – and Voldemort definitely did not care about or love someone like the slut Pansy Parkinson or the idiot Vincent Crabbe. She could say the same thing about Mad Eye Moody – she didn't want him dead, but that didn't mean she loved him – cared just enough about him to want him alive...
And she was starting to think that achieving friendship between Voldemort and Harry would never happen – that her plan was faulty, was impossible, that she had made a mistake, wasn't thinking, and ended up bonded in holy matrimony to the infamous murdering psychopath. She quickly shut this out of her mind...sure, he was a psycho, murdering idiot, angered her, didn't love her, was only doing this because he was forced into it, because he was using her, wanted her best friend and many other of her friends dead, but – she /loved/ him.
She suspected him of a variation of bipolar disorder, as he switched so quickly and abruptly from being angry at her, to well – charming almost. Not Prince Charming, with capital P and C, but well – he could be a real gentleman sometimes – she remembered him trying to comfort her during the Death Eater meeting, going along with her decisions, naming her his equal, granting her power, their kiss when they got married...and then he would switch back to his angry self. It was so damn infuriating.
And she thought of Sirius and Snape...they were interesting to talk to, even more so when you put them in a room together, but it was – kind of sad, really – she had heard stories about their early childhoods, lives at homes in Dark families, their many run-ins at Hogwarts, and afterwards...she had for a long time suspected they both loved Lily just as much as James did, but she had long ago decided to hold it to herself – it would hurt Harry, knowing they both hit on his mom...he could've easily become Harry Black or Harry Snape given a few small changes in his parent's lives...and times would've been different, obviously.
But just the thought of Sirius and Snape – they had each endured so much – it just showed how much the body and mind could endure, how strong they were....but they had differences as well – and they hated each other's guts...and that wouldn't change any more that the relationship between her partner and best friend would...she had made a huge mistake.
And there was no going back – divorce was unheard of in the wizard world, and bonding through marriage always brought the mate back home...their souls were interconnected. The only way out of it was to kill herself...but she couldn't do that. People needed her here, she was young, she could get over this, and come out on top...or was she trying too hard?
She arrived at Grimmauld place, and fell asleep immediately on a couch, worn out emotionally. It had been a long day. Little did she know of the Order of the Phoenix meeting the next day and what that would bring.
----------------------------------------------------------
"Oh sit down, Severus. The food's getting cold," Hermione said. Snape sneered at her.
"I refuse to sit next to a flea-bitten dog," Snape said silkily.
"As if I wanted to sit next to a greasy overgrown bat," Sirius growled.
Voldemort rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, forcing Snape's body to rise three feet in the air, hovering three feet over the chair in a sitting position. Voldemort smirked and put his wand back, causing Snape to fall rudely into his chair.
"There. That's better," Voldemort said, and turned his attention to the table. Gesturing at the pot, he turned toward his bride. "Could you inform us as to the nature of its contents?"
Hermione frowned, and pulled the lid off, using her wand to lazily levitate portions of food on to the four plates on the table. "Pesto," she said. "An Italian pasta dish made with basil, olive oil, pine nuts, garlic, and parma..."
Snape cut her off, saying, "I've put up with your know-it-all-ness for seven years – quite enough, don't you think?"
"I was merely answering a question," Hermione said coldly. "And it was the same at school as well." She said a spell, allowing milk to pour from her wand into the four glasses, and summoned a pan of marinated chicken from the kitchen, forking out pieces on to the four plates before putting her wand in her pocket. She dug her fork into the pasta on her plate, noticing that although Voldemort was eating his half-heartedly, the other plates went untouched.
Sirius watched her out of the corner of his eye nervously, watching her eat her first bite – Hermione's eyebrows knitted together, until she realized why she was the only one eating.
"Sirius – /I/ cooked dinner – Tom thinks himself above 'house-elf duties,' as he puts it," Hermione said hollowly. Voldemort growled deep in his throat, and Sirius relaxed, and speared the chicken with his fork – Snape did likewise with his pasta, seeing his fears proved falsely. Sirius was eating like a starved man, helping himself to more in the pot and levitating more chicken out of the kitchen, but Snape was eating slowly, mostly stirring food around on his plate; it was the same way at Hogwarts.
That wasn't the problem though; Hermione hadn't expected anything else. What bothered her was the tense, heavy silence...it was extremely quiet – hardly seemed like a meal, compared to the loud and boisterous feasts at Hogwarts. It was as if the three others didn't know how to cross the gulf between themselves, or how to cut across the silence – it was as if there was nothing to say...sure, they had ran into each other over the years and talked, but never really held a civilized conversation...
Hermione had invited Sirius and Snape for dinner because she had pictured the dinners she had had with her family on Sunday nights in the summer – her parents, herself, and her sister – just talking, enjoying themselves, enjoying being in each other's company, chatting about the latest in the news, or the past weekend, or plans for the week, or someone's birthday, or just about anything...it was perhaps wishful thinking, nostalgic to that time during summer vacations, that motivated her to invite them. And she wanted the two men, enemies since they first met, to one day not just form a truce like Dumbledore requested in her third year, but an acquaintance, and eventually a friendship.
And she didn't want it to go back to just being herself and Voldemort...she may call him Tom to his face, but otherwise she just thought of him as "Lord Voldemort," not really connecting the bitter past and the man in the textbooks, the person haunting her best friend, with her soul-mate next to her. The silence settling on the four seemed to suffocate Hermione; it was as if she couldn't breathe...at least she wasn't the only one who noticed it. Sirius was the first to break the silence.
"This is so weird," Sirius said thickly through a mouthful of chicken, referring to the fact that he was eating dinner with his nemesis since schooldays, the feared Voldemort he worked against, and his best friend's son's friend.
"For once in your life, Black, I agree with you," Snape said, not looking up from his plate, glaring at the noodles on his plate.
Sirius choked on his mouthful of chicken, and started coughing. Hermione jerked her head towards him, startled, but no one else seemed to care. Voldemort continued eating as if nothing happened, and Snape was /grinning./ Sirius tried drinking from his glass, but couldn't get it down...he continued coughing, or trying to...and Hermione was going over the CPR she had learned long ago in her head.
Snape was staring dreamily at Sirius – not as if he was infatuated with him, but rather, finally witnessing the man's death, and his dreams come true. Voldemort wiped his lipless mouth with the napkin on his lap, and glanced at Sirius, a mask of indifference on his face, not caring for Sirius' welfare. Hermione was watching her friend's godfather worriedly....she valued him as a dear friend... Sirius clasped his arms at his throat, as if trying to grope for the food and dislodge it...and he sputtered and stopped coughing. Voldemort jerked his head up at the sudden silence...Sirius' face was going pallid in color – his lips were bluish.
Hermione stood up so fast her chair tipped over, and she pulled Sirius' chair back, letting him fall against her. She uprighted him, wrapped her arms around him, and made a fist just below his ribcage, at the base of his sternum. She wrapped her other hand around her fist and jerked upward – the Hemilich maneuver, as she didn't know what wizards did instead ...
Snape looked perplexed as he tried to figure out what she was doing- pressing on Sirius' diaphragm to make artificial coughs to unblock his airway. Voldemort, being in a muggle orphanage during his youth, had no doubt heard about CPR or seen it on an old fuzzy black-and-white TV...of course wizards and magical folk had a simple spewing spell...she was a smart witch...so why did she bother with rudimentary muggle methods?
Seeing him turning bluer in the face, Hermione watched his chest – he wasn't breathing. She breathed deeply and rolled up her sleeves, knowing what she had to do. She pushed his plate and place setting further back on the table, and oriented Sirius so his upper body was lying on the table. She pushed his long matted brown hair out of his face, tilted his head back, and watching his chest, put her mouth on his and exhaled quickly, inhaled through her nose, and exhaled into his mouth again, before lifting her head, watching his chest for signs of breathing.
She reached into his mouth, pulling out the bit of chicken, and quickly wiped her hand on his napkin. She repeated the breathing every five seconds ...Snape looked disgusted – nauseous, as if he just found out there was some not-too-pleasant ingredient in the pasta he just ate. Voldemort was watching his wife in undisguised fascination – there was just something about actually seeing someone practice CPR on a person, saving their life – She cared enough about Sirius to perform that...would she attempt to do the same for him, if he was in Sirius' shoes? ...He found it interesting that she preferred the muggle method to a simple Healing spell...he noticed that Hermione refused to look at either his or Snape's faces, refused to think of anything except trying to save Sirius' life...
About a minute and a half later, when Hermione had given Sirius another two breaths in a series, his eyes fluttered open on the second. Hermione lifted her head and watched his chest – it was rising and falling – he was breathing. She looked back at his face, and looking into his dark brown sunken eyes, she helped him to his feet. He stood, hunched over like a man who had endured too much suffering in his life (and he had), and stared at her.
He remembered Voldemort ignoring him completely, Snape staring at him choking half-to-death, a look of undisguised glee on his face, and then Hermione – Harry's best friend, Voldemort's wife...whatever...it felt like she was kissing him spread on the table almost...so confusing...
The first words he said were, "What the - ?"
"You choked and stopped breathing," Hermione said quickly. "I – I saved you."
"Uh – ah, thank you..." Sirius said, at a loss for words...so she wasn't that evil then...a good thing to tell the Order. Only Dumbledore, Draco, the Death Eaters, Snape, Wormtail, and Sirius apart from the couple themselves, knew about the marriage at this point. Of course, people would eventually find out, but no matter. Sirius' mind was brought back to the discussion at hand – Voldemort was voicing his thoughts on something...
"I'm curious as to why you chose the muggle method opposed to a simple Healing spell," Voldemort said finally.
Hermione looked at him unseeingly, searching her memory for the spell. "Ah yes," she said softly. "I remember...we learned it in sixth year. There's many muggle things I prefer to magical methods – muggle life isn't THAT bad... I just – I guess our childhoods never truly leave us," she said, as if that explained it. And in a way, it did. Sirius didn't touch the rest of his food - clearly he had lost his appetite at his near-death. Hermione looked at him concerned, and smiled – suddenly, she broke out laughing...the happiest she had been in weeks.
"First you save my life, and then you start laughing at me?" Sirius asked, taking on a false offended tone.
Hermione waved the comment away apologetically. "No – not at you...I was just thinking along the lines of our conversation before you choked – the only way this would be weirder is if it were Harry in my place instead...
"Very disturbing thought," Voldemort said.
"And I agree with you – amazing – you and Snape on the same night! Wow! Harry'll write me up for traitor-ism, but no matter..."
"Why does every conversation have to center around that damned Potter?" Snape said irritably. "Death Eater meetings, Order meetings, meetings with Dumbledore – it's all everyone talks about!" He paused, and then added as an after thought. "And the Dark Lord."
"Perhaps it could be because millions of lives are at stake as to the outcome of this war – and many will have their lives changed vastly for the better or worse simply by whether Potter wins or I win," Voldemort said softly, glaring at Snape.
"Screw the prophecy!" Hermione yelled. "Are you really going to let Trelawney's bloody prediction decide your bloody fate? There's got to be another way!"
"Like all Seers, she has the power to see the future – if it's already determined, then there's no other way," Voldemort said coolly, talking to Hermione slowly and deliberately as if speaking to a small child. "Potter will die," he said so firmly, there was no question.
Hermione dropped her fork with a clatter and stood up for the second time that evening, shoving his chair so he was forced to look up at her seething face, fierce-eyed, rigid, blood pounding in her temples. He stood up as well, not liking to look up at someone.
"The only reason I married you was to end the blasted hate in this world!" Hermione shrieked. It was too late that she realized she had just given away her secret plan – the plan she had refused to tell anyone, and that she had now just revealed to the person she least wanted to find out.
Voldemort stared into her nutmeg eyes, bright with anger. And Hermione was glaring into his cold red eyes, like fire in his fury. He squeezed her shoulder tightly, but Hermione didn't flinch from the pain he was inflicting on her. "And," he said softly. "The only reason I asked for your hand in marriage was to break Potter, to get information."
The two were unmindful, oblivious of their two witnesses in their second fight tonight – it was the day after they got married, and was far from anything remotely resembling a blissful honeymoon.
"Oh really?" Hermione said, staring into his eyes. "Then the question remains, do you really /love/ me?" she asked, with eyes open to her soul, wild with emotions swimming within them. Anger. Regret. Hurt. Melancholy. He turned his head, looking at the floor to the left of her feet, not meeting her eyes.
"I could ask you the same question," he said, an octave lower than normal.
"Living with you hasn't been easy, and trying on my sanity, but yes. I love you," Hermione admitted softly, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice – she was telling the truth. She looked at him expectantly, and he realized she needed an answer.
"I wouldn't want you dead," Voldemort said softly, raising his head to meet her eyes. His cold red eyes with cat-slit pupils...frozen with hatred over the years...she saw no emotion in his eyes now – just cold frostiness set in eyes like a vampire's...
"So that's it then?" Hermione asked, blinking back tears. "You don't love me. You don't even like me. You just – don't want me dead. Is that it? So that's as far as your affection goes for me? You won't be seeing me much longer then – I'll just leave your life shall I? I mean, it is what you want..." She cut off, realizing she was starting to ramble.
He stared at her blankly – he had no idea in all his years, how to deal with something like this. He pulled his wand out and pointed it at her – it was what he was used to, what he would usually do in various situations. Hermione grabbed his wand and flung it over her shoulder, and walked out the front door. Once outside, she ran – ran to the gate, to the ends of the wards, and dissapparated.
Voldemort watched her go, his eyes shimmering with an unreadable emotion. He turned, and nearly jumped at seeing Sirius and Snape there. Snape looked annoyed at having to witness yet another lover's quarrel...he lit a fire in the fireplace and flooed back to his Potions lab.
Which left Sirius, who was glaring at Voldemort. "Smart move," Sirius said coolly. "All you had to do was say those three words – you wouldn't even have to mean it, and she'd probably be kissing you right now." He paused to chug down the rest of his milk, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. He continued, "If you really care about her, give her a few days – she'll come back eventually – just, give her a poem and flowers or something..." He stopped to pick up Voldemort's wand on the floor, and thrust it in his hand. "And you could be nicer. And I don't even know why I'm giving /you/ love advice," Sirius said slowly, thinking as he spoke, and he left, walking out the front door and apparating like Hermione did, not looking back once.
Voldemort sighed deeply, and sat down in his seat, pushing his food back, holding his head in his hands. He suddenly felt very old – and stupid. What had he done?
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Hermione apparated in the Burrow's living room – it was around seven at night. Molly Weasley was there, knitting a sweater, for a Christmas present, perhaps, as it was mid October...Christmas was two months away.
She looked up, startled at the pop accompanying an apparition.
Seeing Hermione standing in her living room, her face red and shining with tears, Molly leapt up, letting her knitting fall to the floor as she embraced Hermione in a hug, smoothing back her frazzled curly brown hair. She let Hermione cry into her shoulder.
For a long time – who knows how long – moments, minutes, hours...Molly just held Hermione and let her cry.
The only other one in the house were Ron...Fred and George were living in a flat above their business, Arthur was working late again, and of course, Percy, Bill, and Charlie had moved out long ago. Ginny was a seventh year at Hogwarts. And Ron had been outside having a late flight on his broomstick – he still hadn't officially moved out yet, lazy git that he is...he came in when it was too dark to see, and dropped his broomstick, seeing his friend of many years, and once a crush...she was such a mess...Ron joined in the hug – even for being oblivious to the obvious, he noticed Hermione's red, bloodshot eyes with crying, the tears falling down her face, her messy bedhead hair, her wrinkled robes...Ron glanced at his mother – she glared at him warningly, knowing his temper would sometimes snap.
At last, Hermione fell silent, having no more tears left to cry...Molly guided her to the old, secondhand red plaid sofa, brightened with knitted covers and a knitted blanket folded on an armrest.
Molly wrapped the blanket around Hermione, seeing as it was mid-October night, and sat beside her. Ron sat on his friend's other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders awkwardly, not knowing what else to do...he was as bad with women as Harry was – Ron still remembered vividly Harry's difficulties with Cho and their breakup about four years ago.
Hermione sniffed and clutched the blanket closer to her...she was a mess. She didn't know why she suddenly started crying...
It was when she clutched the blanket that Ron noticed the golden band on her finger – he stared at in surprise – Molly was frowning at him, until she realized what he was looking at.
"Married are you, my dear?" Molly said gently, before Ron could say something potentially upsetting and insensitive, as he was sure to do.
"What?" Hermione said, and looked down at her hand. "Oh. Um – yes..." she said, having trouble shaping her mouth around the words – she wasn't keen on the topic, so Molly didn't ask any further questions, and shook her head at Ron, who looked ready to say something. She couldn't stop him though, when he noticed a sterling silver ring on Hermione's right hand – a sterling silver ring in the shape of a snake winding around her finger, complete with a winding tail on top of her finger and an intricate head, complete with scales trailing down the body, and two tiny ruby eyes.
Ron looked bewildered – the same way Goyle did when asked a question in class during their seven years at Hogwarts. Seeing Ron's look, Hermione quickly put her hand inside the blanket.
"Where did you get that, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Where did I get what?"
"That – that snake-ring..."
She pulled her hand out – it was too late, she knew it. "Oh this?" she said, and forced a laugh, that sounded fake, even to her ears. "It was a family heirloom on my husband's mother's side of the family – I found it this morning while cleaning – couldn't take my eyes off it, so he gave it to me."
Ron guffawed, staring at her in disbelief. "But Hermione," he said, still laughing, clutching his side. "That's a Slytherin ring, isn't it? Kind of odd for snake jewelry to be passed down on your husband's side of the family...unless..." Yes, Ron's brain had finally caught up with what he was saying. His face fell, and all laughter died from his face. In fact, his face paled, so the freckles stood out starkly against his skin, and he was unknowingly holding his breath.
"Yes, Ron," Hermione said softly. "I married a Slytherin." Ron screamed, and backed away from her. Molly rolled her eyes, and gave Hermione an apologetic look, hugging her, and glaring expectantly at Ron.
"H-Her-Hermione?" Ron stuttered. "Wh-Who was it? Do I want to know? Is it anyone I know?"
"Yes," Hermione said slowly, stroking the ring – she had dearly hoped Ron was elsewhere when she fell into Molly's arms... "You know him. Quite well." She could tell this would take a long time...why not make it fun as well? A mischievous grin spread on her face. "He's – well, I guess, the epitome of Slytherins – evil. Not nice. Dark. And, well, he's not on the best of terms with Harry...they've tried to kill each other on more than one occasion."
She let that sink in, and glanced nervously at Molly – she had of course, by now had a more narrowed idea of who Hermione was talking about...had several ideas. Ron still didn't get it.
"Merlin – please, Hermione – tell me you didn't marry Blaise Zambini!"
Hermione looked confused. Blaise Zambini? The mild-mannered, quiet Slytherin who made friends with everybody, and should've gone to Ravenclaw? "No," Hermione said, annoyed. "Think – more Slytherin."
It continued into a guessing game for the next few minutes, as Ron named slightly more evil Slytherins, naming everyone from Crabbe to Pansy Parkinson, a girl, to Susan Bones, who wasn't a Slytherin at all. Molly left for a bit, before coming back with a cup of tea.
Ron was getting more and more panicky by the minute. Finally, he reached Draco – Hermione said no, he breathed a sigh of relief, before thinking of Snape – when Hermione said more evil, Ron shook his head, saying he couldn't think of any others, and coming to the conclusion that Hermione bought the rings in a muggle store to annoy him and was really single and going to his house because she secretly wanted to go out with him, and then that she bought the rings off Fred and George for revenge on him – Hermione shook her head.
"Ronald Weasley," she said seriously. Ron jerked his head, hearing his full name rolling off her tongue. "I married Lord Voldemort."
Needless to say, Ron fell off the couch, backing away from her, grabbing a cross Arthur stole from a raid off the table, and warding her off with it – he backed away to the door, before Molly grabbed his arm, scolding him for acting foolishly, and saying that he must support Hermione for being forced through this most unwanted marriage, and that he should help get her out of it, and ease her pain.
Hermione blew a lock of hair out of her face in frustration, and flooed out – it was hopeless.
She had steeled herself up for something like this – she expected to be hurt like this from marrying Lord Voldemort – he wasn't Prince Charming anymore than Professor Snape was. But it still caught her unprepared – honestly – "I wouldn't want you dead?" – that could go the same for his Death Eaters' children – and Voldemort definitely did not care about or love someone like the slut Pansy Parkinson or the idiot Vincent Crabbe. She could say the same thing about Mad Eye Moody – she didn't want him dead, but that didn't mean she loved him – cared just enough about him to want him alive...
And she was starting to think that achieving friendship between Voldemort and Harry would never happen – that her plan was faulty, was impossible, that she had made a mistake, wasn't thinking, and ended up bonded in holy matrimony to the infamous murdering psychopath. She quickly shut this out of her mind...sure, he was a psycho, murdering idiot, angered her, didn't love her, was only doing this because he was forced into it, because he was using her, wanted her best friend and many other of her friends dead, but – she /loved/ him.
She suspected him of a variation of bipolar disorder, as he switched so quickly and abruptly from being angry at her, to well – charming almost. Not Prince Charming, with capital P and C, but well – he could be a real gentleman sometimes – she remembered him trying to comfort her during the Death Eater meeting, going along with her decisions, naming her his equal, granting her power, their kiss when they got married...and then he would switch back to his angry self. It was so damn infuriating.
And she thought of Sirius and Snape...they were interesting to talk to, even more so when you put them in a room together, but it was – kind of sad, really – she had heard stories about their early childhoods, lives at homes in Dark families, their many run-ins at Hogwarts, and afterwards...she had for a long time suspected they both loved Lily just as much as James did, but she had long ago decided to hold it to herself – it would hurt Harry, knowing they both hit on his mom...he could've easily become Harry Black or Harry Snape given a few small changes in his parent's lives...and times would've been different, obviously.
But just the thought of Sirius and Snape – they had each endured so much – it just showed how much the body and mind could endure, how strong they were....but they had differences as well – and they hated each other's guts...and that wouldn't change any more that the relationship between her partner and best friend would...she had made a huge mistake.
And there was no going back – divorce was unheard of in the wizard world, and bonding through marriage always brought the mate back home...their souls were interconnected. The only way out of it was to kill herself...but she couldn't do that. People needed her here, she was young, she could get over this, and come out on top...or was she trying too hard?
She arrived at Grimmauld place, and fell asleep immediately on a couch, worn out emotionally. It had been a long day. Little did she know of the Order of the Phoenix meeting the next day and what that would bring.
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