She was rudely awoken by a loud crash, followed by Sirius' mother screaming
vile things about half-bloods and pureblood-traitors and mudbloods fouling
her house.
Tonks came in, muttering apologies, but Hermione was wide awake by now. She checked her watch – 9:05 – and sat up. Tonks was wearing electric-blue hair today that stuck up like spikes down the center of her head.
"Sorry Hermione," Tonks muttered. "I'll just be going now – had to get something for the Order meeting – oh by the way, it's been postponed until tomorrow – Dumbledore said he was feeling a bit off color today – anyway, I'm so glad we finally got rid of Kreacher..." Without another word, she left, accidentally knocking over what sounded like the umbrella stand on her way out.
So Hermione was left alone...or was she? Order meeting...Order meeting...damn, damn, damn.
She cursed and set out to find other occupants in the house – no one in the living room with her, so she went up to the second floor – she opened one door to find Sirius snoring – she promptly shut the door, and went to see if there was anyone else in the house – one room was empty, but lived in – Hermione spotted Hedwig hooting softly in annoyance at being cooped up in her master's room. Hermione came over and opened the window, allowing her to get some exercise – definitely Harry's room. One room across the hall – ah, yes – the torn curtains, shabby clothing laid out, and the Marauder's Map laid out on a desk – that was Lupin's room. She shut the door, and went downstairs – Lupin had always been a morning person, maybe he was up already?
She went back by Sirius' room and just – stood in the doorway – he was spread out on his back on a black-sheeted queen-size waterbed, wearing a shabby blue pair of what looked like boxers – the sheets were up to his waist and wrapped around him, long brown hair spread out on the pillow – Hermione just stood there in the doorway and watched his chest rise and fall with every snore – she had loved Sirius nearly as much as Harry did – it was hard not to with someone as eccentric and likable as him – she was just glad that he was alive. A sound behind her made her jump – she wheeled around, only to see Lupin there, in a thin shabby pinstriped bathrobe, leaning against the wall.
"Good morning, Hermione," he said good-naturedly, as if he hadn't just found her in his house, watching his best-friend sleeping.
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, startled. "I – I'm sorry, I just came to spend the night – I didn't know anyone was here..."
"It's fine – I've been rather relieved to see Padfoot as well...Anyway, would you care to join me for some breakfast?"
Hermione smiled; this was why she liked Lupin – he was kind to everyone, good-natured...the last person she would've expected to be a werewolf. Then again, in the magical world, nothing was what you expected. She followed him downstairs and had a cup of coffee and a croissant – she insisted on chocolate – Lupin nodded his head knowingly, but didn't say anything.
They talked about the latest news in the Daily Prophet, Fred and George's business, Quidditch...Hermione would've talked about anything to keep her mind off darker issues at hand.
Afterward, Lupin went to look for work in Hogsmeade (he had tried, without success, in Diagon Alley) after leaving a note for Sirius, Hermione went to get some money from Gringotts, and buy herself some books from Flourish and Blotts, as well as try and find a place for work herself...she needed something to keep herself occupied, now that school was over.
Walking through Diagon Alley, she tried thinking of what interested her...well, just about anything – she researched so many topics at Hogwarts library...potions, transfiguration, history, arithmancy, magical creatures, charms...she didn't see a point in buying any books, as Voldemort had so many – but she really didn't know what she wanted to do with herself now that she was out of school. She had given herself way too much leisure – while studying for the NEWTs during last year, she had promised herself she would find herself a job within a month after graduation – she didn't want to end up moving back in with her parents, or asking for money...
Speaking of money, she needed money. She walked into Gringotts, and approached a rather grumpy goblin sitting behind the desk, wearing spectacles that might fit a human, but were definitely too big for him; they kept sliding down his nose.
"What are you here for?" the goblin grunted. "I um – well, I got married – see, and I have no vault myself, but my husband has one..." Hermione said tentatively, shifting her weight from foot to foot – she was muggleborn and therefore had no family gold in Gringotts, and she hadn't seen her parents, nor did she want to beg them for money. She assumed in the wizarding world that a couple pooled their property and gold once they got married, just like in the muggle world...
The goblin rolled his eyes; no doubt he had heard something like this far too often. "Yes of course...we'll just need your husband's key."
Hermione paled. Key? She didn't have the bloody key!
She settled for reasoning with the goblin. "I don't have the key with me!"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Trying to break into someone else's vault?" Hermione stammered 'no,' but the goblin looked unconvinced. "To the manager with you!" he squeaked. Hermione breathed deeply in exasperation, and allowed the goblin to lead her to the manager...an older, grumpier looking goblin in a fancier crimson suit. The two goblins conversed in Gribblededook, or goblin-language for a long time – it looked like the manager was angry with his employee with something – they kept looking back at Hermione, and the employee was flustered, to say the least – he was waving his hands around and his voice got progressively squeakier as he tried to make his point – at last the manager sent the employee back to his station behind the desk, and switched to English.
"Don't have the key, eh?" he said, grinning toothily. Hermione shook her head no.
"Well, no matter – hand me your ring and I'll run some tests on it." Hermione noticed that she was nervously twirling her hair around her finger, and tucked the lock behind her ear. She gently tugged on the ring and it came free – she reluctantly handed it to the goblin, who smirked and fingered the ring admiringly, muttering something about gold, before picking the ring up in forceps. Checking a shelf behind him, he found a vial of dandelion-yellow potion, put it on the desk, and dropped the ring in it. Hermione's eyes widened in recognition of the potion she remembered reading about in her sixth year – the Conjugal potion – commonly used to prove marriages, or affairs, or divorcement for court cases – a common object was put in the yellow potion – if it didn't turn color, it was false.
If it turned blue, it was a friendship. Black was enemies. Red was marriage, or a very close relationship. Hermione bent down to closely watch her ring – the potion turned vivid red – the goblin frowned, as if hoping it wouldn't turn color and Hermione would be proven guilty of trying to break into a vault. He pulled the ring out of the potion and handed it to Hermione – she cleaned the potion off with a simple water charm, and put it back on her finger. The goblin pulled out a quill from the desk, and dipped it into the potion, before dropping it on a piece of parchment in front of him. The quill hovered just over the parchment, before writing out "Tom Marvolo Riddle" in block all-caps.
The goblin manager vanished the potion in the vial and put the vial and quill away. He pulled out a huge logbook, setting it on the desk. Hermione thought he must have used magic – the book was about a square foot, and between two heavy covers were what could easily be thousands of pages – the whole book looked like it might weigh about fifty pounds at least – far more than the goblin. He ran his finger down the spine and it opened to Rhy- Rie, searching the page. At last his long knobbly goblin finger stopped at "Riddle, Tom Marvolo" – he pulled out what looked like a blob of glowing gel-like silver from a drawer underneath the counter and tapped the name once – the blob of silver floated in air and elongated, forming what looked like a key. When the newly-created key fell on top of the book, the goblin grumpily handed it to Hermione, putting the book away with a snap of his fingers. "Griphook!" he squealed. "Vault 498!" Griphook came over – he was the disgruntled employee Hermione was talking with originally – and led Hermione down to the vaults.
A half hour later, Hermione walked out of Gringotts, blinking in the sunlight. She made her way down Diagon Alley. She needed a job.
She could always fall back on Weasley Wizard Wheezes, but well...although she could offer valuable spells and charms for the sweets, she had looked down on the business from Day One: Tricking friends into eating Canary Creams. Flourish and Blotts maybe...she was walking by....but on second thought, no – she had books, and she could see herself quickly growing bored just shelving books.
Tom, the innkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron, could always use an extra hand, but it was the same deal with Flourish and Blotts...
Hermione stopped walking down Diagon Alley when she passed a small family- owned deli – she got herself a sandwich and an iced tea, before sitting down to think over her life. What she really wanted with her life.
She had long ago in one of the first Divination classes with Trelawney come up with a list of goals for her life...she had always liked making lists, putting her thoughts down in a logical order – this time she had planned what she wanted to do with her life. She had lost the list long ago, but mentally it was still there; she copied what she recalled from memory onto a napkin, after she finished lunch.
Get OWLs. Get NEWTs. Get Married – poss. to Ron or Harry?. Become member of Order. Become Auror. Or professor. Or start own business. Have kids.
The first two, she had of course, accomplished – getting the most OWLs and NEWTs in her year. Get married – well she had always wanted that to happen in her mid-twenties, once she formed a relationship with a young guy and then had him propose to her and marry him out of love...but hey – she had a man now – he may not be young and loving, but there was still the romanticism to taming a dark mysterious man...yeah, right. Hermione blinked, and burst out laughing – she got lots of weird looks, but so what? Member of the Order, or an Auror, like that'd ever happen – most likely was becoming a Death Eater now. She sighed, reluctantly inking out those two goals so harshly her napkin ripped. Professor...maybe...although, on second thought...much as she would love teaching and the huge break, and being at Hogwarts again, well, she knew certain people wouldn't want her around Dumbledore, and also...well, the whole reason she married Lord Voldemort was to basically set the wizarding world at peace without a war – ambitious and unlikely, yes, but it had even less chance of succeeding if she was away ten months of the year. Damn it. Kids...that was far in the future, by her standards- she would at least wait until times weren't as turbulent, both in the Riddle household, and outside of it. Start her own business. That, she could do. Question is, what?
She sank back in her chair, tapping the table absent-mindedly with the tip of her quill. Maybe something in the Muggle world...what did she want before she found out about magic and being a witch? She remembered back when she was four, wanting to be a ballerina. Then again, as far as she knew, every girl wanted to be one when they were four...and every boy wanted to be either a fireman, policeman, or truck driver.
She paused. /Every/ girl? /Every/ boy? She knew plenty of witches and wizards today that had no idea what the hell either profession was, had no interest in being either, and probably had no idea how to be either...she seriously doubted they would've felt differently back when they were four years old...then again, it was pretty hard to picture almost anyone as being that young...
So think later. Older than four, less than eleven. She had been interested in people's minds. How the brain worked. Psychology. What motivated people to do or say something. Why people made the choices they did. The connection between neurons and thought. A very common field of study in the muggle world, but almost unheard of in the magical world.
If she could somehow incorporate magic into that kind of science...
Who was she kidding? Science and magic...two completely different things. Now, she could offer therapy – so many people needed it...but of course – no one would listen to her. She was just a teenage witch – no one would know her if she wasn't friends with Harry at school.
She broke her quill in half in frustration, and sighed, running her fingers through her hair, getting her fingers caught momentarily in all the curls.
Throwing her trash out, she got up and left, seeking sanctuary in Flourish and Blotts, settled down with a good book – not for research this time, but to merely read and enjoy.
Hours later, she peeked out the window to see the sun hanging lower in the sky – she dissapparated, appearing moments later just outside where Grimmauld place would be- she saw the two houses on either side, but the Black house itself wasn't there – the wards were set up this way to repel muggles and unwanted company...she walked right up between the two houses, seeing them spread apart to make room for the Black house.
She walked up to the front door, Remus let her in, and she followed him to the kitchen – they had dinner alone, seeing as Sirius had left. Remus said later he didn't know where Sirius went – he could turn into his dog form and then roam around the neighborhood, move in with a family, get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, go looking for Harry, go to Hogwarts, Godric's Hollow, the Shrieking Shack – Remus had no idea, but he trusted Sirius not to get into trouble.
Hermione was grateful for that; she didn't know why, but it just – bothered her – she could still see the pained look in Sirius' eyes when he found out what she had done...
She went to bed early that night – it felt odd – this time she had fallen asleep in Harry's bed – he wasn't there, but it still felt so ...weird – forbidding, like she shouldn't be there...she closed her eyes and woke up early the next day.
This time she ventured into Muggle London, after exchanging some of the galleons she had pulled out of the vault for the equivalent in pounds.
First thing she found was a clothing store – perfect; she needed clothes; she had been alternating between wearing clothes from several days ago, to conjuring clothes, to wearing old robes she found hung in a closet.
She felt kind of guilty going and spending his money on a shopping spree – but hey, they were married – and she'd pay him back. Someday. Somehow.
She walked out about two hours later, weighed down by three bags of clothes – luckily she had the foresight to wear an outfit out of the store, to avoid anymore stares at her robes, considered out-of-the-norm in the muggle world. She found lots of stuff – it was like a department store of women's clothes – she picked out the simple stuff – a beautiful dress, jeans, a few tops, sweaters, slippers, pajamas, underwear, bathing suit...one thing she couldn't resist, though, was a black lambskin trench coat – perfect, as it was well-into October, and getting a little chilly. And the great thing was, although it was muggle fabric so she couldn't enlargen it any, she could vanish the part below the waistline if she wanted a simple jacket. It was nice – like leather, but softer, finer-grained...
She would've shrunk the bags and stuffed them in her pockets, however she was unable to do so, being in muggle London, surrounded by a crowd of people who wouldn't take well to a show of magic.
She stopped for lunch at a deli on the corner, and was about to walk into Diagon Alley when something caught her eye – a CD store. Perfect. She had always loved music; it was one of those things she had to do without, being a witch – however, as a muggleborn, she missed it – she had grown up listening to anything from Phantom of the Opera, to Disney soundtracks, to Enya and Abba, and in her later teen years, Linkin Park and Third Eye Blind, and she had of course, listened in on Harry's rock CDs – his method of anger management, even if it wasn't very effective – she was one of those people that although she never saw herself as being professional, she liked singing to the music – she walked down the aisles, scanning the little tabs with an artist on it. She had a CD player at home, but it was so old and falling apart – it used its batteries pretty quickly, the headphones didn't sound unless put exactly right in the earphone jack, and her CD player had to be perfectly level. Kind of sad. So she found herself a decent Sony complete with headphones – and a few CDs, of course...a few old favorites, as well as a few rock CDs she liked out of Harry's collection – Matchbox 20 and Ozzy were alright, but some were just weird – Marilyn Manson for one thing – she had no idea why Harry liked the music – so violent.
Her money bag considerably lighter and her fingers numb and reddening from holding so many bags, she walked into the Leaky Cauldron, where she could shrink and lighten everything, put it in her pockets, and left for Grimmauld Place – she got there just in time for the Order meeting.
------------------------------------------------------------
When last we left Voldemort, he was sitting in front of the table, holding his head in his hands as the last scene repeated itself in his head – they had only been married a few days, and he had ruined it all...
At last, he got up slowly, clearing the table with a wave of his wand. He snorted. Love poetry? That was Black's advice? Flowers and love poetry? Since when did the infamous, evil Lord Voldemort write LOVE POETRY? Or walk into a florist shop in Diagon Alley? – ha, ya right...he could see that...
/ "AUGH! It's – it's HIM! RUN!!!" "No – wait!" "AUGH! HELP!" "No – I just wanted a dozen red roses..."/
As if.
He may not wish her dead, may have an inkling of feeling for her towards the love end of the spectrum, instead of the hate/must die end...but he still did not go around wasting his time on such frivolous things...and whoever thought he did must be mad, worthy of St. Mungo's...so that was Black then. Who wasn't mad though, these days?
Still, though...he didn't know why he was doing this, but he felt – he felt as if he had to make it up to her. He was human – and like everyone else, felt the biological need to settle down domestically with a woman, have a family...of course, he had many years ago blocked out that natural desire, but ever since he received that letter from his mom requesting him marry someone, that instinct had reawakened...no matter what he did, how many he killed or raped or tortured or controlled, or how many lives he ruined, or spells and potions he put on himself, or how inhuman and monstrous he appeared to the rest of the world, he was still human at heart, and always would be – he could not escape that.
He had kept it secret from his Death Eaters, trying to satisfy the need with raping women on their raids, but of course it never fulfilled the instinct...and he had a chance now to settle down and have a family, have kids...but if his wife hated him, and ran from him, that just wouldn't happen...
Life was so complicated.
To cheer himself up, he called a few of his newly-recruited Death Eaters to prove their loyalty – and thus he ended up going on a raid with Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini, and Dolores Umbridge...it was a little of a disappointment, to say the least. Crabbe and Goyle were so thick he was surprised they could walk – although they were brawny and able to beat someone to a pulp if they tried, well, he had seen a fish smarter than them. For the love of Merlin, a fish. He might as well recruit trout. Parkinson was simpering over Malfoy – no matter how many times he Crucio-ed her, he didn't see her let go of him once. Poor guy. Umbridge kept challenging his authority, or making an annoying sound – "hem hem" or something along those lines...Zambini and Malfoy made excellent Death Eaters, though. The others he might have to kill off if they get on his nerves much longer...
And he couldn't rape anyone – not that he wanted to – he had seen how many times Lucius had tried, only to bounce back once he came within a foot of the woman...bouncing off like a bubble or something, only to hit a wall, furniture, or another Death Eater, and knock himself out. Arrogant, cheating git.
He did set a few homes on fire, torture some children, and kill some parents in front of their children, steal some gold, things like that. For some reason, it wasn't as satisfying as a week ago, as before. He had that brief high, feeling the power over someone, the power of someone's life in his hands...but it ended just as quickly...he would hear her voice in his head, or see the look of pain and disappointment in her eyes as she empathized with the victim...slowly shaking her head...
He hoped she'd come back soon.
He should do something for her though...not flowers or damn love poetry, too frivolous, but...yes...dark, but seductive...
------------------------------------------
Apparently Dumbledore had extended the invitation to the Order to just- graduated students, considering that they were now adults – however, to her relief, Fred and George weren't there – she didn't see them as the type to take something like this seriously.
She sat down in the remaining empty chair, between Ron and Mad Eye Moody – he jumped when she sat down, surveying her with his round blue magical eye before turning back to his argument with Mundungus Fletcher. To her relief, Sirius and Snape were far away from her, and each other – she was sitting in the middle of the table, and they were on the same side, but at each end, so neither had to look at each other – to do so would only bring back memories of the night before.
The meeting started out reasonably well – taking role, small talk, Mundungus falling asleep again...until Dumbledore turned to Snape. "What's our latest report on the Death Eaters?"
Snape raised an eyebrow, and he shifted his eyes nervously, as if looking for Hermione at the table – he caught a glimpse of her bushy hair, but that was it. He didn't want to reveal everything – but it was his duty to – it's not like he could lie...
"The Dark Lord as you know, has found himself a partner, and named her the Dark Lady, Headmaster. To my knowledge, he has surprisingly granted her equal power to his own..."
He paused because of the predictable reactions of those who didn't know – laughing in disbelief, shaking their heads, muttering...
HHhe not once looked in Hermione's direction. Hey – he had granted her the privilege of remaining anonymous...
Snape picked it up again, being his usual insensitive, Slytherin self. "Obviously, he wishes to produce an heir, and given the nature of the woman he has selected, gain inside knowledge on our ranks and Potter. However, I have no idea as to granting her equal power whether he intends to bribe her into providing information, or extend his power – there are Dark potions and spells that would enable him to control his bride's mind, essentially making her an extension of himself...this would be strengthened by the matrimonial bond, and given her reputation as a witch on the light side, allow him to possibly possess unsuspecting people in contact with her."
Hermione's teeth were clenched, and she crossed her arms over her chest. How dare he! Then again, it was possible and a consideration, given that it /was/ the Dark Lord...
"How interesting," Figg said, in her usual croaky old-lady tone. "I wonder who the lucky lady is?" she said innocently – had it been Snape who said that, his voice would've been dripping with sarcasm.
Hermione bit her lip, lest she say anything she might regret later on.
She kind of droned out, but picked up later what Shacklebolt was saying. "So – I guess that makes it even more necessary to end this war quickly – before any damage can be done. Where is Potter? If we could somehow train him and prepare him for when he must kill You-Know-Who..."
Uh oh. Bad idea...
Glaring at Kingsley Shacklebolt she joined the meeting. Refusing to let her emotion get the better of her, she did her best to speak out. "But why?"
His eyebrows came together. "I beg your pardon Miss Granger?"
Hermione breathed deeply – she could feel the mounting tension, but refused to give into it merely because of what he said – heck, he didn't know...
"Why do we have to kill him at all?"
The room went silent then – it was as if someone had turned off all sound, leaving just an empty vacuum void of sound – just eyes, eyes staring at her in disbelief. Of course, those that knew of the situation with her and the Dark Lord, were either looking at Hermione, concerned for her well-being, or in the case of Snape, resisting the urge to roll their eyes.
"What do you mean? Of course we have to kill him – he's a madman, he's killed many, he's a threat to us, to the Ministry's national security, a psycho – look at how many lives he's ruined! Believe me, we're all doing our best to prepare Harry for the final battle, and then it's up to him to kill the monster."
Hermione tilted her chin up – this was the final straw. "NO!" she screamed. She rested her head in her hands, feeling hot tears trailing down her cheeks. The next thing she said was just above a whisper, and she just barely avoided a shaky voice. "I love him," she whispered, not raising her head from her hands – hiding her face.
Tonks fell out of her chair – she righted the chair and sat back in it. "YOU'RE his bride???" she stammered. Hermione only nodded.
She then got up and left, headed to meet Lord Voldemort, not without a teen magazine from Tonks, containing an enclosed "England's Top 50 Sex Gods." - Tonks had said well no wonder she was so depressed, hanging around with mad- looking mutants like those Death Eaters and their leader – she had looked pointedly at Snape, causing her to glare daggers at the magazine cover as if it offended him, and start rubbing his temples to relieve a headache.
Still wearing the pair of jeans, sneakers, and pale pink sweater she wore out of the store, Hermione dissapparated, appearing moments later outside the Riddle mansion.
She hesitated, and then swung open the gate and walked down the path. She stopped a meter from the door. Would he be home, or out killing some innocent muggles? Did he actually care for her? Would he mind that she went and bought muggle clothes with his gold, without even asking? Would he be angry with her for walking out?
Here goes nothing, she thought – and raised the knocker, letting it pound against the old wooden door. It swung open, creaking on its hinges – and she tilted her head, looking up into his cold reptilian red eyes...he had the strangest expression on his pale gaunt face...his lipless mouth was curved upwards in a – well, she couldn't tell...a smirk, sly smile, unpleasant grin...dear God, what did he do? It was only what...two, three days? Dear God, please let Harry be safe and untouched by murderous Slytherins out for his blood, she silently prayed. It was then that she noticed that he was hiding something behind his back. How interesting...it was just like her little sister when she was giving her a gift on Christmas morning...it would've been hilarious, had she not been assuming the worst, given that it wasn't her innocent little sister, but someone a bit different.
"Welcome back," he said in that hoarse, high cold whisper. With anyone else, Hermione would've assumed that to be a friendly greeting...with Voldemort it just sounding menacing. What he did next, though, was what she least expected. He produced from behind his back, a block of fine Swiss 79% cacao dark chocolate, holding it out to her.
Hermione was speechless. Dark chocolate? How did he know? Obviously he had one of his trusted Death Eaters buy it...or he robbed a store. Dark chocolate...her favorite – just like men often resorted to alcohol in times of trouble, she turned to chocolate...and not milk, but dark chocolate...the darker the better. Still, though – it didn't seem his type to...hey, it was chocolate. She had never loved him more than she did now...
She didn't know what came over, she took the chocolate, and hugged him, impulsively fixing her lips on his mouth – their first kiss since they got married – before Hermione closed her eyes, she looked into his garnet orbs...he looked startled at first, but then he put his arms around her and deepened the kiss...it was odd kissing a man without lips, but he was surprisingly a good kisser...he leaned over her, and Hermione felt his tongue brushing against her lips and she let him enter...she felt the heat emanating from him...in the moment, nothing else mattered, just that she was here snogging her companion the Dark Lord...it was so wrong, but at the same time, it just felt so right...as it was where she belonged, he belonged...and from then on, he wasn't Lord Voldemort. He was simply Tom Riddle...an average man, hers...
He closed the door behind her...in the heat of the moment, neither one noticed a pair of cold, steel gray eyes leering at them in dislike, disgust, from behind the fence.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Tonks came in, muttering apologies, but Hermione was wide awake by now. She checked her watch – 9:05 – and sat up. Tonks was wearing electric-blue hair today that stuck up like spikes down the center of her head.
"Sorry Hermione," Tonks muttered. "I'll just be going now – had to get something for the Order meeting – oh by the way, it's been postponed until tomorrow – Dumbledore said he was feeling a bit off color today – anyway, I'm so glad we finally got rid of Kreacher..." Without another word, she left, accidentally knocking over what sounded like the umbrella stand on her way out.
So Hermione was left alone...or was she? Order meeting...Order meeting...damn, damn, damn.
She cursed and set out to find other occupants in the house – no one in the living room with her, so she went up to the second floor – she opened one door to find Sirius snoring – she promptly shut the door, and went to see if there was anyone else in the house – one room was empty, but lived in – Hermione spotted Hedwig hooting softly in annoyance at being cooped up in her master's room. Hermione came over and opened the window, allowing her to get some exercise – definitely Harry's room. One room across the hall – ah, yes – the torn curtains, shabby clothing laid out, and the Marauder's Map laid out on a desk – that was Lupin's room. She shut the door, and went downstairs – Lupin had always been a morning person, maybe he was up already?
She went back by Sirius' room and just – stood in the doorway – he was spread out on his back on a black-sheeted queen-size waterbed, wearing a shabby blue pair of what looked like boxers – the sheets were up to his waist and wrapped around him, long brown hair spread out on the pillow – Hermione just stood there in the doorway and watched his chest rise and fall with every snore – she had loved Sirius nearly as much as Harry did – it was hard not to with someone as eccentric and likable as him – she was just glad that he was alive. A sound behind her made her jump – she wheeled around, only to see Lupin there, in a thin shabby pinstriped bathrobe, leaning against the wall.
"Good morning, Hermione," he said good-naturedly, as if he hadn't just found her in his house, watching his best-friend sleeping.
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, startled. "I – I'm sorry, I just came to spend the night – I didn't know anyone was here..."
"It's fine – I've been rather relieved to see Padfoot as well...Anyway, would you care to join me for some breakfast?"
Hermione smiled; this was why she liked Lupin – he was kind to everyone, good-natured...the last person she would've expected to be a werewolf. Then again, in the magical world, nothing was what you expected. She followed him downstairs and had a cup of coffee and a croissant – she insisted on chocolate – Lupin nodded his head knowingly, but didn't say anything.
They talked about the latest news in the Daily Prophet, Fred and George's business, Quidditch...Hermione would've talked about anything to keep her mind off darker issues at hand.
Afterward, Lupin went to look for work in Hogsmeade (he had tried, without success, in Diagon Alley) after leaving a note for Sirius, Hermione went to get some money from Gringotts, and buy herself some books from Flourish and Blotts, as well as try and find a place for work herself...she needed something to keep herself occupied, now that school was over.
Walking through Diagon Alley, she tried thinking of what interested her...well, just about anything – she researched so many topics at Hogwarts library...potions, transfiguration, history, arithmancy, magical creatures, charms...she didn't see a point in buying any books, as Voldemort had so many – but she really didn't know what she wanted to do with herself now that she was out of school. She had given herself way too much leisure – while studying for the NEWTs during last year, she had promised herself she would find herself a job within a month after graduation – she didn't want to end up moving back in with her parents, or asking for money...
Speaking of money, she needed money. She walked into Gringotts, and approached a rather grumpy goblin sitting behind the desk, wearing spectacles that might fit a human, but were definitely too big for him; they kept sliding down his nose.
"What are you here for?" the goblin grunted. "I um – well, I got married – see, and I have no vault myself, but my husband has one..." Hermione said tentatively, shifting her weight from foot to foot – she was muggleborn and therefore had no family gold in Gringotts, and she hadn't seen her parents, nor did she want to beg them for money. She assumed in the wizarding world that a couple pooled their property and gold once they got married, just like in the muggle world...
The goblin rolled his eyes; no doubt he had heard something like this far too often. "Yes of course...we'll just need your husband's key."
Hermione paled. Key? She didn't have the bloody key!
She settled for reasoning with the goblin. "I don't have the key with me!"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Trying to break into someone else's vault?" Hermione stammered 'no,' but the goblin looked unconvinced. "To the manager with you!" he squeaked. Hermione breathed deeply in exasperation, and allowed the goblin to lead her to the manager...an older, grumpier looking goblin in a fancier crimson suit. The two goblins conversed in Gribblededook, or goblin-language for a long time – it looked like the manager was angry with his employee with something – they kept looking back at Hermione, and the employee was flustered, to say the least – he was waving his hands around and his voice got progressively squeakier as he tried to make his point – at last the manager sent the employee back to his station behind the desk, and switched to English.
"Don't have the key, eh?" he said, grinning toothily. Hermione shook her head no.
"Well, no matter – hand me your ring and I'll run some tests on it." Hermione noticed that she was nervously twirling her hair around her finger, and tucked the lock behind her ear. She gently tugged on the ring and it came free – she reluctantly handed it to the goblin, who smirked and fingered the ring admiringly, muttering something about gold, before picking the ring up in forceps. Checking a shelf behind him, he found a vial of dandelion-yellow potion, put it on the desk, and dropped the ring in it. Hermione's eyes widened in recognition of the potion she remembered reading about in her sixth year – the Conjugal potion – commonly used to prove marriages, or affairs, or divorcement for court cases – a common object was put in the yellow potion – if it didn't turn color, it was false.
If it turned blue, it was a friendship. Black was enemies. Red was marriage, or a very close relationship. Hermione bent down to closely watch her ring – the potion turned vivid red – the goblin frowned, as if hoping it wouldn't turn color and Hermione would be proven guilty of trying to break into a vault. He pulled the ring out of the potion and handed it to Hermione – she cleaned the potion off with a simple water charm, and put it back on her finger. The goblin pulled out a quill from the desk, and dipped it into the potion, before dropping it on a piece of parchment in front of him. The quill hovered just over the parchment, before writing out "Tom Marvolo Riddle" in block all-caps.
The goblin manager vanished the potion in the vial and put the vial and quill away. He pulled out a huge logbook, setting it on the desk. Hermione thought he must have used magic – the book was about a square foot, and between two heavy covers were what could easily be thousands of pages – the whole book looked like it might weigh about fifty pounds at least – far more than the goblin. He ran his finger down the spine and it opened to Rhy- Rie, searching the page. At last his long knobbly goblin finger stopped at "Riddle, Tom Marvolo" – he pulled out what looked like a blob of glowing gel-like silver from a drawer underneath the counter and tapped the name once – the blob of silver floated in air and elongated, forming what looked like a key. When the newly-created key fell on top of the book, the goblin grumpily handed it to Hermione, putting the book away with a snap of his fingers. "Griphook!" he squealed. "Vault 498!" Griphook came over – he was the disgruntled employee Hermione was talking with originally – and led Hermione down to the vaults.
A half hour later, Hermione walked out of Gringotts, blinking in the sunlight. She made her way down Diagon Alley. She needed a job.
She could always fall back on Weasley Wizard Wheezes, but well...although she could offer valuable spells and charms for the sweets, she had looked down on the business from Day One: Tricking friends into eating Canary Creams. Flourish and Blotts maybe...she was walking by....but on second thought, no – she had books, and she could see herself quickly growing bored just shelving books.
Tom, the innkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron, could always use an extra hand, but it was the same deal with Flourish and Blotts...
Hermione stopped walking down Diagon Alley when she passed a small family- owned deli – she got herself a sandwich and an iced tea, before sitting down to think over her life. What she really wanted with her life.
She had long ago in one of the first Divination classes with Trelawney come up with a list of goals for her life...she had always liked making lists, putting her thoughts down in a logical order – this time she had planned what she wanted to do with her life. She had lost the list long ago, but mentally it was still there; she copied what she recalled from memory onto a napkin, after she finished lunch.
Get OWLs. Get NEWTs. Get Married – poss. to Ron or Harry?. Become member of Order. Become Auror. Or professor. Or start own business. Have kids.
The first two, she had of course, accomplished – getting the most OWLs and NEWTs in her year. Get married – well she had always wanted that to happen in her mid-twenties, once she formed a relationship with a young guy and then had him propose to her and marry him out of love...but hey – she had a man now – he may not be young and loving, but there was still the romanticism to taming a dark mysterious man...yeah, right. Hermione blinked, and burst out laughing – she got lots of weird looks, but so what? Member of the Order, or an Auror, like that'd ever happen – most likely was becoming a Death Eater now. She sighed, reluctantly inking out those two goals so harshly her napkin ripped. Professor...maybe...although, on second thought...much as she would love teaching and the huge break, and being at Hogwarts again, well, she knew certain people wouldn't want her around Dumbledore, and also...well, the whole reason she married Lord Voldemort was to basically set the wizarding world at peace without a war – ambitious and unlikely, yes, but it had even less chance of succeeding if she was away ten months of the year. Damn it. Kids...that was far in the future, by her standards- she would at least wait until times weren't as turbulent, both in the Riddle household, and outside of it. Start her own business. That, she could do. Question is, what?
She sank back in her chair, tapping the table absent-mindedly with the tip of her quill. Maybe something in the Muggle world...what did she want before she found out about magic and being a witch? She remembered back when she was four, wanting to be a ballerina. Then again, as far as she knew, every girl wanted to be one when they were four...and every boy wanted to be either a fireman, policeman, or truck driver.
She paused. /Every/ girl? /Every/ boy? She knew plenty of witches and wizards today that had no idea what the hell either profession was, had no interest in being either, and probably had no idea how to be either...she seriously doubted they would've felt differently back when they were four years old...then again, it was pretty hard to picture almost anyone as being that young...
So think later. Older than four, less than eleven. She had been interested in people's minds. How the brain worked. Psychology. What motivated people to do or say something. Why people made the choices they did. The connection between neurons and thought. A very common field of study in the muggle world, but almost unheard of in the magical world.
If she could somehow incorporate magic into that kind of science...
Who was she kidding? Science and magic...two completely different things. Now, she could offer therapy – so many people needed it...but of course – no one would listen to her. She was just a teenage witch – no one would know her if she wasn't friends with Harry at school.
She broke her quill in half in frustration, and sighed, running her fingers through her hair, getting her fingers caught momentarily in all the curls.
Throwing her trash out, she got up and left, seeking sanctuary in Flourish and Blotts, settled down with a good book – not for research this time, but to merely read and enjoy.
Hours later, she peeked out the window to see the sun hanging lower in the sky – she dissapparated, appearing moments later just outside where Grimmauld place would be- she saw the two houses on either side, but the Black house itself wasn't there – the wards were set up this way to repel muggles and unwanted company...she walked right up between the two houses, seeing them spread apart to make room for the Black house.
She walked up to the front door, Remus let her in, and she followed him to the kitchen – they had dinner alone, seeing as Sirius had left. Remus said later he didn't know where Sirius went – he could turn into his dog form and then roam around the neighborhood, move in with a family, get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, go looking for Harry, go to Hogwarts, Godric's Hollow, the Shrieking Shack – Remus had no idea, but he trusted Sirius not to get into trouble.
Hermione was grateful for that; she didn't know why, but it just – bothered her – she could still see the pained look in Sirius' eyes when he found out what she had done...
She went to bed early that night – it felt odd – this time she had fallen asleep in Harry's bed – he wasn't there, but it still felt so ...weird – forbidding, like she shouldn't be there...she closed her eyes and woke up early the next day.
This time she ventured into Muggle London, after exchanging some of the galleons she had pulled out of the vault for the equivalent in pounds.
First thing she found was a clothing store – perfect; she needed clothes; she had been alternating between wearing clothes from several days ago, to conjuring clothes, to wearing old robes she found hung in a closet.
She felt kind of guilty going and spending his money on a shopping spree – but hey, they were married – and she'd pay him back. Someday. Somehow.
She walked out about two hours later, weighed down by three bags of clothes – luckily she had the foresight to wear an outfit out of the store, to avoid anymore stares at her robes, considered out-of-the-norm in the muggle world. She found lots of stuff – it was like a department store of women's clothes – she picked out the simple stuff – a beautiful dress, jeans, a few tops, sweaters, slippers, pajamas, underwear, bathing suit...one thing she couldn't resist, though, was a black lambskin trench coat – perfect, as it was well-into October, and getting a little chilly. And the great thing was, although it was muggle fabric so she couldn't enlargen it any, she could vanish the part below the waistline if she wanted a simple jacket. It was nice – like leather, but softer, finer-grained...
She would've shrunk the bags and stuffed them in her pockets, however she was unable to do so, being in muggle London, surrounded by a crowd of people who wouldn't take well to a show of magic.
She stopped for lunch at a deli on the corner, and was about to walk into Diagon Alley when something caught her eye – a CD store. Perfect. She had always loved music; it was one of those things she had to do without, being a witch – however, as a muggleborn, she missed it – she had grown up listening to anything from Phantom of the Opera, to Disney soundtracks, to Enya and Abba, and in her later teen years, Linkin Park and Third Eye Blind, and she had of course, listened in on Harry's rock CDs – his method of anger management, even if it wasn't very effective – she was one of those people that although she never saw herself as being professional, she liked singing to the music – she walked down the aisles, scanning the little tabs with an artist on it. She had a CD player at home, but it was so old and falling apart – it used its batteries pretty quickly, the headphones didn't sound unless put exactly right in the earphone jack, and her CD player had to be perfectly level. Kind of sad. So she found herself a decent Sony complete with headphones – and a few CDs, of course...a few old favorites, as well as a few rock CDs she liked out of Harry's collection – Matchbox 20 and Ozzy were alright, but some were just weird – Marilyn Manson for one thing – she had no idea why Harry liked the music – so violent.
Her money bag considerably lighter and her fingers numb and reddening from holding so many bags, she walked into the Leaky Cauldron, where she could shrink and lighten everything, put it in her pockets, and left for Grimmauld Place – she got there just in time for the Order meeting.
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When last we left Voldemort, he was sitting in front of the table, holding his head in his hands as the last scene repeated itself in his head – they had only been married a few days, and he had ruined it all...
At last, he got up slowly, clearing the table with a wave of his wand. He snorted. Love poetry? That was Black's advice? Flowers and love poetry? Since when did the infamous, evil Lord Voldemort write LOVE POETRY? Or walk into a florist shop in Diagon Alley? – ha, ya right...he could see that...
/ "AUGH! It's – it's HIM! RUN!!!" "No – wait!" "AUGH! HELP!" "No – I just wanted a dozen red roses..."/
As if.
He may not wish her dead, may have an inkling of feeling for her towards the love end of the spectrum, instead of the hate/must die end...but he still did not go around wasting his time on such frivolous things...and whoever thought he did must be mad, worthy of St. Mungo's...so that was Black then. Who wasn't mad though, these days?
Still, though...he didn't know why he was doing this, but he felt – he felt as if he had to make it up to her. He was human – and like everyone else, felt the biological need to settle down domestically with a woman, have a family...of course, he had many years ago blocked out that natural desire, but ever since he received that letter from his mom requesting him marry someone, that instinct had reawakened...no matter what he did, how many he killed or raped or tortured or controlled, or how many lives he ruined, or spells and potions he put on himself, or how inhuman and monstrous he appeared to the rest of the world, he was still human at heart, and always would be – he could not escape that.
He had kept it secret from his Death Eaters, trying to satisfy the need with raping women on their raids, but of course it never fulfilled the instinct...and he had a chance now to settle down and have a family, have kids...but if his wife hated him, and ran from him, that just wouldn't happen...
Life was so complicated.
To cheer himself up, he called a few of his newly-recruited Death Eaters to prove their loyalty – and thus he ended up going on a raid with Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini, and Dolores Umbridge...it was a little of a disappointment, to say the least. Crabbe and Goyle were so thick he was surprised they could walk – although they were brawny and able to beat someone to a pulp if they tried, well, he had seen a fish smarter than them. For the love of Merlin, a fish. He might as well recruit trout. Parkinson was simpering over Malfoy – no matter how many times he Crucio-ed her, he didn't see her let go of him once. Poor guy. Umbridge kept challenging his authority, or making an annoying sound – "hem hem" or something along those lines...Zambini and Malfoy made excellent Death Eaters, though. The others he might have to kill off if they get on his nerves much longer...
And he couldn't rape anyone – not that he wanted to – he had seen how many times Lucius had tried, only to bounce back once he came within a foot of the woman...bouncing off like a bubble or something, only to hit a wall, furniture, or another Death Eater, and knock himself out. Arrogant, cheating git.
He did set a few homes on fire, torture some children, and kill some parents in front of their children, steal some gold, things like that. For some reason, it wasn't as satisfying as a week ago, as before. He had that brief high, feeling the power over someone, the power of someone's life in his hands...but it ended just as quickly...he would hear her voice in his head, or see the look of pain and disappointment in her eyes as she empathized with the victim...slowly shaking her head...
He hoped she'd come back soon.
He should do something for her though...not flowers or damn love poetry, too frivolous, but...yes...dark, but seductive...
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Apparently Dumbledore had extended the invitation to the Order to just- graduated students, considering that they were now adults – however, to her relief, Fred and George weren't there – she didn't see them as the type to take something like this seriously.
She sat down in the remaining empty chair, between Ron and Mad Eye Moody – he jumped when she sat down, surveying her with his round blue magical eye before turning back to his argument with Mundungus Fletcher. To her relief, Sirius and Snape were far away from her, and each other – she was sitting in the middle of the table, and they were on the same side, but at each end, so neither had to look at each other – to do so would only bring back memories of the night before.
The meeting started out reasonably well – taking role, small talk, Mundungus falling asleep again...until Dumbledore turned to Snape. "What's our latest report on the Death Eaters?"
Snape raised an eyebrow, and he shifted his eyes nervously, as if looking for Hermione at the table – he caught a glimpse of her bushy hair, but that was it. He didn't want to reveal everything – but it was his duty to – it's not like he could lie...
"The Dark Lord as you know, has found himself a partner, and named her the Dark Lady, Headmaster. To my knowledge, he has surprisingly granted her equal power to his own..."
He paused because of the predictable reactions of those who didn't know – laughing in disbelief, shaking their heads, muttering...
HHhe not once looked in Hermione's direction. Hey – he had granted her the privilege of remaining anonymous...
Snape picked it up again, being his usual insensitive, Slytherin self. "Obviously, he wishes to produce an heir, and given the nature of the woman he has selected, gain inside knowledge on our ranks and Potter. However, I have no idea as to granting her equal power whether he intends to bribe her into providing information, or extend his power – there are Dark potions and spells that would enable him to control his bride's mind, essentially making her an extension of himself...this would be strengthened by the matrimonial bond, and given her reputation as a witch on the light side, allow him to possibly possess unsuspecting people in contact with her."
Hermione's teeth were clenched, and she crossed her arms over her chest. How dare he! Then again, it was possible and a consideration, given that it /was/ the Dark Lord...
"How interesting," Figg said, in her usual croaky old-lady tone. "I wonder who the lucky lady is?" she said innocently – had it been Snape who said that, his voice would've been dripping with sarcasm.
Hermione bit her lip, lest she say anything she might regret later on.
She kind of droned out, but picked up later what Shacklebolt was saying. "So – I guess that makes it even more necessary to end this war quickly – before any damage can be done. Where is Potter? If we could somehow train him and prepare him for when he must kill You-Know-Who..."
Uh oh. Bad idea...
Glaring at Kingsley Shacklebolt she joined the meeting. Refusing to let her emotion get the better of her, she did her best to speak out. "But why?"
His eyebrows came together. "I beg your pardon Miss Granger?"
Hermione breathed deeply – she could feel the mounting tension, but refused to give into it merely because of what he said – heck, he didn't know...
"Why do we have to kill him at all?"
The room went silent then – it was as if someone had turned off all sound, leaving just an empty vacuum void of sound – just eyes, eyes staring at her in disbelief. Of course, those that knew of the situation with her and the Dark Lord, were either looking at Hermione, concerned for her well-being, or in the case of Snape, resisting the urge to roll their eyes.
"What do you mean? Of course we have to kill him – he's a madman, he's killed many, he's a threat to us, to the Ministry's national security, a psycho – look at how many lives he's ruined! Believe me, we're all doing our best to prepare Harry for the final battle, and then it's up to him to kill the monster."
Hermione tilted her chin up – this was the final straw. "NO!" she screamed. She rested her head in her hands, feeling hot tears trailing down her cheeks. The next thing she said was just above a whisper, and she just barely avoided a shaky voice. "I love him," she whispered, not raising her head from her hands – hiding her face.
Tonks fell out of her chair – she righted the chair and sat back in it. "YOU'RE his bride???" she stammered. Hermione only nodded.
She then got up and left, headed to meet Lord Voldemort, not without a teen magazine from Tonks, containing an enclosed "England's Top 50 Sex Gods." - Tonks had said well no wonder she was so depressed, hanging around with mad- looking mutants like those Death Eaters and their leader – she had looked pointedly at Snape, causing her to glare daggers at the magazine cover as if it offended him, and start rubbing his temples to relieve a headache.
Still wearing the pair of jeans, sneakers, and pale pink sweater she wore out of the store, Hermione dissapparated, appearing moments later outside the Riddle mansion.
She hesitated, and then swung open the gate and walked down the path. She stopped a meter from the door. Would he be home, or out killing some innocent muggles? Did he actually care for her? Would he mind that she went and bought muggle clothes with his gold, without even asking? Would he be angry with her for walking out?
Here goes nothing, she thought – and raised the knocker, letting it pound against the old wooden door. It swung open, creaking on its hinges – and she tilted her head, looking up into his cold reptilian red eyes...he had the strangest expression on his pale gaunt face...his lipless mouth was curved upwards in a – well, she couldn't tell...a smirk, sly smile, unpleasant grin...dear God, what did he do? It was only what...two, three days? Dear God, please let Harry be safe and untouched by murderous Slytherins out for his blood, she silently prayed. It was then that she noticed that he was hiding something behind his back. How interesting...it was just like her little sister when she was giving her a gift on Christmas morning...it would've been hilarious, had she not been assuming the worst, given that it wasn't her innocent little sister, but someone a bit different.
"Welcome back," he said in that hoarse, high cold whisper. With anyone else, Hermione would've assumed that to be a friendly greeting...with Voldemort it just sounding menacing. What he did next, though, was what she least expected. He produced from behind his back, a block of fine Swiss 79% cacao dark chocolate, holding it out to her.
Hermione was speechless. Dark chocolate? How did he know? Obviously he had one of his trusted Death Eaters buy it...or he robbed a store. Dark chocolate...her favorite – just like men often resorted to alcohol in times of trouble, she turned to chocolate...and not milk, but dark chocolate...the darker the better. Still, though – it didn't seem his type to...hey, it was chocolate. She had never loved him more than she did now...
She didn't know what came over, she took the chocolate, and hugged him, impulsively fixing her lips on his mouth – their first kiss since they got married – before Hermione closed her eyes, she looked into his garnet orbs...he looked startled at first, but then he put his arms around her and deepened the kiss...it was odd kissing a man without lips, but he was surprisingly a good kisser...he leaned over her, and Hermione felt his tongue brushing against her lips and she let him enter...she felt the heat emanating from him...in the moment, nothing else mattered, just that she was here snogging her companion the Dark Lord...it was so wrong, but at the same time, it just felt so right...as it was where she belonged, he belonged...and from then on, he wasn't Lord Voldemort. He was simply Tom Riddle...an average man, hers...
He closed the door behind her...in the heat of the moment, neither one noticed a pair of cold, steel gray eyes leering at them in dislike, disgust, from behind the fence.
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