He pulled her inside in mid liplock, in from the doorway –
Hermione didn't remember much else, other than that she lost control – she had always prided herself on being above hormone-raging mood-swinging teens (and people far beyond their teenage years that really shouldn't be experiencing the same issues), but she just – lost control, as something else took over – as her want and desire for love, love that she didn't have at Hogwarts, back when she saw almost all guys as immature and focused only on schoolwork.
She pinned the Heir of Slytherin against a wall, an elbow against the wall as she rested a hand on his pale bald head, the other hand gripping his shoulder. Even through the lust clouding her mind, she really didn't think he'd respond...but as his arms were around her, he entangled a hand in her hair, stroking her bushy chestnut hair absent-mindedly, the other arm around the small of her back. The Dark Lord explored with his tongue his bride's mouth, her lips, her teeth, the fleshy tissue of her inside cheeks, her own tongue...part of him, the Tom Riddle part, was acting like a teen...making out with someone he loved...the other part, the Lord Voldemort part, was disgusted at this – he wasn't a brainless teen...he had more sense than this – what if anyone found out...but the Tom Riddle voice took over, saying it felt so right, that hell, he had raped women younger than her before...and suddenly kissing his wife was a problem?
Finally he turned his head, breaking free of the sensuous kiss...he needed to breathe. Breathing as if he had just run a mile, he noticed Hermione looked calmer...she was smiling faintly at him, as if surprised he could kiss like that.
"Am I that bad?" he asked, seeing her looking at him curiously, surprised...
"No," she said breathlessly. He noted her tongue flick out to slowly lick spit off her lips. "No – not at all. I just thought...never mind. I'm hungry."
That night, they fell asleep in each other's arms...Hermione fell asleep immediately, resting her head against his bare chest, letting the steady lub-dub lub-dub of his heart lull her to sleep. The heart no one thought he possessed. This marriage was everything she wanted it to be. She just hoped it would stay that way.
By contrast, Tom stayed up into the small hours of morning, absent-mindedly stroking his wife's bushy hair. Over and over, a single question played in his mind... 'Am I going soft?' he thought...Going out of his way to get sweets for his wife, kissing, helping put dinner on the table...civil conversations...what had gotten into him? Just one damn woman out of so many, and this is what happened to him? All these years he had committed nearly every crime possible, broken nearly every Wizard Law, broken every single Commandment, and suddenly – he just snaps and becomes yet another loving, nice, affectionate, caring soulmate for somebody? What the hell was a kind of life like that? He had gotten so soft in just a few days...his heart had gone from cold steel to a pillow, a goose-feather stuffed pillow, much like the one underneath his head at the moment. His Death Eaters would turn from him, possibly turn against him...people would laugh at him...no, no, this couldn't be happening...
His only small consolation was that while she was gone, he /did/ go out on another raid, and killed quite a few and ruined quite a few lives...even if he didn't enjoy it much as he usually did. And finally he fell asleep.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
The very next morning, while his best friend and arch-nemesis awoke in each other's arms, Harry awoke from under his tree in a not-too-distant forest. His clothes were damp with dew, but he did yet another drying charm on them, so his clothes didn't get taken over by mildew. Not that it did any good...an hour later on his days-long flight to find Sirius, it poured. Rain pounded down from the grey sky and thunder boomed far off. Concerned about being struck by lightening, Harry reluctantly dived down to the ground, got off his broomstick, and continued at a slower pace, walking.
As he walked, each step echoed an on-going chant in his head that motivated him towards his goal – 'Must find Sirius. Alive. Sirius is alive. Must find Sirius.' He didn't know how to explain it- it started out with many thoughts in his head, many mixed emotions and feelings concerning his godfather, a never-ending circle of thoughts...as he got tired and more weary, it shortened...shortened down to this chant.
Around two, he was walking down a street near a hundred yards from the newly-wed couple. Dragging his feet, soaked to the bone with the insisting chilly rain, looking up at a sky that was dark gray, offering as much light as dusk does.
Just as he was about to reach the cemetery-like black wrought iron fence, he heard pops all around him – like people apparating. And sure enough...
Harry pulled out his wand as in seconds, Harry found a semi-circle of his enemies in front of him...everyone who had gone out of their way to mess with his life...All there. Everyone except Voldemort himself, and the Dursleys. Umbridge. Draco. Lucius. Snape. Bellatrix. Wormtail. Of course, there were others; but these enemies had done him the most damage over the years – making his classes difficult, killing his loved ones, humiliating him, bringing about Tom Riddle and the basilisk, insulting him, making fun of his past, his parents, his Gryffindor-ism. With the exception of Draco, they were all adults – who had fucked with his life since he was just a kid. All around him, he saw memories playing out as he looked into their eyes, and the smirks and unpleasant grins only made it worse- it was as if they knew they had it in for him, or that they knew something he didn't know...
And six wands were pointed at his chest. Harry didn't even want to think of what they were capable of...six against one. And the great Harry Potter, Boy- Who-Lived, holding his wand in his right hand, flung it on the ground – didn't drop his wand as if it slipped out of his fingers, but flung it in a sign of surrender. Of defeat.
It hurt. He felt shame in such a gesture, in surrendering, after everything. But he had to. The fact was, he was outnumbered six to one, and they knew more spells, had Dark Arts capabilities he didn't even want to think of. He just wanted to stare at the ground, to disappear, to fade away and appear across the world. As it was, he merely met every pair of eyes with his, determined not to back down. Snape for a brief moment looked concerned...Umbridge cleared her throat...Wormtail ducked his head, muttering something about a bond, and James...Bellatrix almost giggled in glee...the Malfoys were smirking, barely holding back laughter.
Lucius and Snape nodded and stepped forward, Lucius on his left, Snape on his right – they each bound a wrist to Harry's, and the others trailed behind, opening the gate.
"You think he'll be put in the dungeon?" Lucius asked over Harry's head.
"If she doesn't make it too difficult," Snape said. "Five galleons that she will."
"And five galleons that he won't bother listening to the bitch," Lucius drawled.
Harry stared between them confused.../she/ ??
In a moment, his question was answered, as halfway to the front door, it opened, and two people stepped out – Harry'd recognize their silhouettes anywhere, but didn't process it, not until they approached their group.
It was the smart and only female member of the Golden Trio, and his enemy of many years...he in a black trailing robe as usual, contrasting sharply against his albino skin, and she in jeans and a pale yellow sweater, with her bushy hair flying loose behind her back...her hand resting in the crook of his arm as they approached rather slowly, like a famous couple in old royal England times, walking down the crimson carpet, like the King and Queen.
The rain still poured down in sheets, but it was as if no one cared. Harry was as soaked as a drowned rat, hair lying flat for once. Lucius' blonde hair and Snape's onyx hair was plastered to their heads, weighed down by water, raindrops dripping down Snape's huge nose. Wormtail, Umbridge, and Hermione, with rather curly/frazzled hair, felt their hair actually straighten somewhat, hanging limp against their faces. Of course, Draco's and Bella's hair was so gelled the pouring sheets of chilly rain had no affect – rain dripped down Voldemort's bald head. Robes, shirts, pants, lay plastered to their owner's skin, weighed down by rain, cold rain causing goose-bumps to rise on the skin...boots and shoes clogged with water...but everyone ignored it...
Harry flexed violently against his bonds, but Lucius and Snape held him back. Whether he meant to hug his best friend, strangle Voldemort, retrieve his wand, or try some failed escape attempt in rescuing her was unclear, even to him.
Harry's eyebrows shot up behind his fringe...was this his Hermione? No....No....No... She was grinning at him, like when they met up at Kings Cross Station last year after summer break...like she was glad to see him. Meanwhile, Voldemort was smirking in a way meaning that he had it in for him.
He was unaware of the pairs of eyes on him, as he struggled to try and grasp how this happened...
He would've thought Voldemort had captured her to bait him, but no – that was Sirius. /Speaking of Sirius, where was he?/ Harry thought. And, Hermione didn't look upset, broken, hurt, or otherwise suffering...rather, she had a look in her eyes as she glanced at Voldemort...the same look Harry had seen her wear around Viktor Krum, or Lockhart...she had worn the same look at the end of seventh year as she kissed him goodbye...
He broke out of his reverie by Wormtail, who was closest to Voldemort. The rat bent down, kissing his master's robes, before straightening and bowing deeply to Hermione. Harry watched in awe as Umbridge, Bellatrix, Draco, and even Lucius and Snape kissed Voldemort's robes before sinking in a deep, unmistakable bow toward Hermione; as if she was their queen. Harry's eyebrow's shot up in shock, pondering what this might mean.
His mind spun, as he tried to grasp what he was seeing. He was seeing one thing, but his mind blatantly refused to accept it...no, this could never happen...this was his Hermione, his school friend...he had had feelings for her since breaking up with Cho in fourth year, but he had refused to show it, as it might attract Voldemort to her, just like all his other loved ones...and he had always thought she preferred Ron...although the Trio never mentioned anything, they were good friends and well, puberty came, and suddenly they were attracted in the opposite sex...
Harry blinked, seeing a gold flicker of light reflecting from Hermione's left hand...she's /married?/ Harry thought. /To WHO?/ And then Voldemort, as if sensing his gaze, held up his left hand - he had an identical gold band.
His worst fears were confirmed. His best friend, whom he had spent all these years with, visited, faced dangers with, went to classes with...was this a spur of the moment thing, or did she secretly hold loyalties toward Voldemort all along? Was she really trying to get him to face Voldemort and die? No...Hermione wouldn't do that...she hated Voldemort and his bigot criminal murdering followers as much as he did...didn't she? And now...she was married to /him/, of all things...He couldn't help thinking that she would've chosen him or Ron, that if only he had bothered asking her in those three long years, shown a sign of his affection, she would've been with him now. The war in his opinion was over. She held invaluable information within her head...it was only too easy for Voldemort to find out about the Order, about the DA, about him, about the visions, Occlumency, Snape's espionage-work, Dumbledore...everything. The world would fall. And be wrapped around Lord Voldemort's little finger.
Harry to all appearances looked broken. Crestfallen. Staring down at the ground, his face contorted in an expression of helplessness, as if he had lost all hope. He blinked back tears, not caring anymore. He was as good as dead. Surrounded by enemies, people who didn't care if he lived or died, who would if they could, personally see to his untimely death.
Hermione embraced him, hugging him like a brother – however the two Death Eaters restraining him prevented him from hugging her back, but she didn't seem to mind. Harry didn't flinch, didn't lean towards her, or show any other sign of noticing.
"It's so good to see you, Harry!" Hermione said cheerily, before stepping back, beside her partner, swatting him on the back. "Be nice," she said, and he rolled his eyes at her. Harry would've found it funny in any other situation...they sounded like an old married couple...but given who it was, he winced, as if witnessing a friend stuck way below the belt.
"Hello, Potter," Voldemort whispered stiffly, although sounding horribly like Hannibal Lector in /Silence of the Lambs/ - all it needed was the washing-hands motion. Hermione couldn't resist snorting at that – he turned his head towards her, but said nothing.
"You two are married," Harry said finally. It wasn't a question. Seeing their nods, he looked Hermione in the eye. "If it makes you happy..." he said at length, in a tone of acceptance.
Hermione turned to the others just standing there, and decided to exercise her power...they weren't helping the situation any, just witnessing this reunion. "Dolores...Bella...Draco...Peter," Hermione said. "You may go." Harry watched in surprise as the four immediately obeyed their orders...Draco giving one last sneering glance at his old school rival.
Suddenly, she turned to Harry, being restrained by his ex-Potions Professor and his rival's father – they seemed to be trying to cut off Harry's circulation, if anything.
"In the cage!" Voldemort said in that high cold voice, at the same time as Hermione said, "Let him go!"
Snape and Lucius shared a look over Harry's head – they started at the confusing commands, but didn't do anything either way. Hermione glanced at Voldemort.
"Let him free – let him go!" she said louder.
"No – I cannot just let him escape," Voldemort snarled.
"He's just a kid!" Hermione yelled, desperately.
"Hardly. By law, he is considered an adult now," Voldemort said calmly, as if explaining to someone who just immigrated into the country and didn't know.
"Just – release him - he doesn't deserve this, Tom!" Hermione said, growing frantic – what was wrong with him.
"No. I know you said 'screw the prophecy,' but it still comes down to me and him having a final battle. I'd prefer it sooner than later," he said coolly. The fact that she was quickly losing her temper and he was as calm as ever unnerved her...it was unsettling, to say the least.
"No! I - I just can't stand loosing either of you! There must be another way," Hermione argued, determined, looking between both of them. Harry was fighting against his bonds, but relaxed at that, as if he realized that even if he was caged, he still had someone on his side.
"No, the war will go on as long as we co-exist. In the end, one of us will die. I cannot let him just escape unharmed," Tom replied. Hermione shook her head at that, frowning. "You do realize," he added, "That even if he escapes, eventually we will meet again."
"Alright!" Hermione said, breathing deeply, and counting to ten in her head. "Lucius, Severus, put Harry in the cage."
Harry stared at her, mouth hanging open, stupefied – he tried to protest but no sound came out. Lucius and Snape nodded, and tightened their grip on Harry, stepping forward. Hermione held up a hand and made an incoherent noise of protest.
"Under several conditions," she said, fairly. God, it was getting annoying being the peacemaker – being in the middle of everything, having to settle everything. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, but she ignored it. "The cage can be no smaller than two by three by two meters. Harry has to receive adequate food and water. A place to pee. And a place to sleep. And he is not to be put under the Unforgivables."
Harry looked relieved, Snape made an incoherent guttural noise, and Lucius sneered unpleasantly at her.
Voldemort just slowly shook his head, disappointment written across his gaunt ashen face.
"Where's the fun in that?" Voldemort asked. "He's being locked up, not checking into a five-star hotel!"
Harry stared, stupefied. Did the Dark Lord just crack a joke? What did Hermione do to him?
Hermione still struggled to reason. "It's the same thing as a muggle prison."
"FINE!" Voldemort said, seeing he wasn't going to win this. But Hermione wasn't finished – she went on as if she didn't hear him.
"And I'm sure you're aware of other ways to torture someone's mind besides the damn Dark Arts – more... creative ways," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, grinning. She made a dismissing gesture, and Snape and Lucius walked in the house with Harry.
Snape and Lucius merely tied Harry up with a simple spell, leaving them free to conjure a cage to Hermione's requirements.
Once they were finished, Snape recalled his bet. "Five galleons," he said, holding out his hand. Lucius grumbled and dropped five gold coins in his hand, which Snape pocketed. The two levitated Harry into the cage and locked the door with a spell Harry didn't know.
He was burning to ask them what had happened, but couldn't find the right words to put it in, so he merely yelled, "WHERE THE HELL IS SIRIUS?" as Malfoy and the Professor left.
His cage was just like Hermione said – a little rustic and crude, but it had a thin blanket on the floor in one corner, a hatch to open and slide food in, and a toilet against the one side against the wall, hooked up to the plumbing. And it was exactly what Hermione said the minimum size requirements were. Damn her. He felt betrayed. Used. Cheated off of. Humiliated. He assumed this was how his parents felt when they found out Pettigrew sold them to Voldemort, or how someone might feel when they found out their spouse had cheated on them for so many years...
About a half hour later, Hermione and Voldemort walked in, to inspect the cage, no doubt – but they walked out quickly to discuss something out of earshot.
"In the living room?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "Of all places..."
"Think of it this way," Voldemort said rationally. "Say you're a fisherman, and you go to a certain river every year – you see this huge, perfect seabass, but you can never quite catch it – it eats your bait, breaks your fishing rod, whatever. And finally you find the right bait and catch it – you're so proud of it, and you want to show your friends and everything – show them that you actually can catch fish, give yourself a conversation point at New Year's parties...so after you eat the fish, you get the damn seabass preserved in fiberglass or plastic, and mount it. Where do you put it? No, it doesn't go in a box in the basement, or stored in your attic – well, it might in about twenty years, but no, you want to show it off! You hang it in your living room, over the mantle..."
He broke off as if he said too much. Hermione started cracking up and punched him in the arm, laughing. It was a side to him she had never seen before. "And that's why I married you," she said, still laughing, and pause, thinking for a moment. "Fishing? Since when do you know about seabass?" she asked.
"What? I was making an analogy to Potter," Voldemort said, frowning.
"I dunno...it sounds like somebody goes fishing every now and then..."
"I DO NOT GO FISHING!!" Voldemort yelled. If such an unfounded, false accusation started flying around about him, he wouldn't be able to stand it.
"Alright...whatever," Hermione said not entirely convinced. "Still – I didn't know you had a sense of humor."
"Ok, first – I had a friend back at the muggle orphanage who was into fishing...so one summer we ran away during Laundry Day and I accompanied him that afternoon – he kept telling me of this damn trout he was trying to catch and his fantasies of hanging it on the wall. As far as fishing, I thought it was boring, and haven't gone since. Second, just because I'm Slytherin doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humor. Even Snape does...i.e, the sarcasm." Great. Now she had quality blackmail material. The evil Lord Voldemort went on a fishing trip. Shit.
Never mind, though...Hermione had decided on trying out international foods – tonight was French night. His favorite. Which made everything all better.
----------------------------------------------------------
Hermione didn't remember much else, other than that she lost control – she had always prided herself on being above hormone-raging mood-swinging teens (and people far beyond their teenage years that really shouldn't be experiencing the same issues), but she just – lost control, as something else took over – as her want and desire for love, love that she didn't have at Hogwarts, back when she saw almost all guys as immature and focused only on schoolwork.
She pinned the Heir of Slytherin against a wall, an elbow against the wall as she rested a hand on his pale bald head, the other hand gripping his shoulder. Even through the lust clouding her mind, she really didn't think he'd respond...but as his arms were around her, he entangled a hand in her hair, stroking her bushy chestnut hair absent-mindedly, the other arm around the small of her back. The Dark Lord explored with his tongue his bride's mouth, her lips, her teeth, the fleshy tissue of her inside cheeks, her own tongue...part of him, the Tom Riddle part, was acting like a teen...making out with someone he loved...the other part, the Lord Voldemort part, was disgusted at this – he wasn't a brainless teen...he had more sense than this – what if anyone found out...but the Tom Riddle voice took over, saying it felt so right, that hell, he had raped women younger than her before...and suddenly kissing his wife was a problem?
Finally he turned his head, breaking free of the sensuous kiss...he needed to breathe. Breathing as if he had just run a mile, he noticed Hermione looked calmer...she was smiling faintly at him, as if surprised he could kiss like that.
"Am I that bad?" he asked, seeing her looking at him curiously, surprised...
"No," she said breathlessly. He noted her tongue flick out to slowly lick spit off her lips. "No – not at all. I just thought...never mind. I'm hungry."
That night, they fell asleep in each other's arms...Hermione fell asleep immediately, resting her head against his bare chest, letting the steady lub-dub lub-dub of his heart lull her to sleep. The heart no one thought he possessed. This marriage was everything she wanted it to be. She just hoped it would stay that way.
By contrast, Tom stayed up into the small hours of morning, absent-mindedly stroking his wife's bushy hair. Over and over, a single question played in his mind... 'Am I going soft?' he thought...Going out of his way to get sweets for his wife, kissing, helping put dinner on the table...civil conversations...what had gotten into him? Just one damn woman out of so many, and this is what happened to him? All these years he had committed nearly every crime possible, broken nearly every Wizard Law, broken every single Commandment, and suddenly – he just snaps and becomes yet another loving, nice, affectionate, caring soulmate for somebody? What the hell was a kind of life like that? He had gotten so soft in just a few days...his heart had gone from cold steel to a pillow, a goose-feather stuffed pillow, much like the one underneath his head at the moment. His Death Eaters would turn from him, possibly turn against him...people would laugh at him...no, no, this couldn't be happening...
His only small consolation was that while she was gone, he /did/ go out on another raid, and killed quite a few and ruined quite a few lives...even if he didn't enjoy it much as he usually did. And finally he fell asleep.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
The very next morning, while his best friend and arch-nemesis awoke in each other's arms, Harry awoke from under his tree in a not-too-distant forest. His clothes were damp with dew, but he did yet another drying charm on them, so his clothes didn't get taken over by mildew. Not that it did any good...an hour later on his days-long flight to find Sirius, it poured. Rain pounded down from the grey sky and thunder boomed far off. Concerned about being struck by lightening, Harry reluctantly dived down to the ground, got off his broomstick, and continued at a slower pace, walking.
As he walked, each step echoed an on-going chant in his head that motivated him towards his goal – 'Must find Sirius. Alive. Sirius is alive. Must find Sirius.' He didn't know how to explain it- it started out with many thoughts in his head, many mixed emotions and feelings concerning his godfather, a never-ending circle of thoughts...as he got tired and more weary, it shortened...shortened down to this chant.
Around two, he was walking down a street near a hundred yards from the newly-wed couple. Dragging his feet, soaked to the bone with the insisting chilly rain, looking up at a sky that was dark gray, offering as much light as dusk does.
Just as he was about to reach the cemetery-like black wrought iron fence, he heard pops all around him – like people apparating. And sure enough...
Harry pulled out his wand as in seconds, Harry found a semi-circle of his enemies in front of him...everyone who had gone out of their way to mess with his life...All there. Everyone except Voldemort himself, and the Dursleys. Umbridge. Draco. Lucius. Snape. Bellatrix. Wormtail. Of course, there were others; but these enemies had done him the most damage over the years – making his classes difficult, killing his loved ones, humiliating him, bringing about Tom Riddle and the basilisk, insulting him, making fun of his past, his parents, his Gryffindor-ism. With the exception of Draco, they were all adults – who had fucked with his life since he was just a kid. All around him, he saw memories playing out as he looked into their eyes, and the smirks and unpleasant grins only made it worse- it was as if they knew they had it in for him, or that they knew something he didn't know...
And six wands were pointed at his chest. Harry didn't even want to think of what they were capable of...six against one. And the great Harry Potter, Boy- Who-Lived, holding his wand in his right hand, flung it on the ground – didn't drop his wand as if it slipped out of his fingers, but flung it in a sign of surrender. Of defeat.
It hurt. He felt shame in such a gesture, in surrendering, after everything. But he had to. The fact was, he was outnumbered six to one, and they knew more spells, had Dark Arts capabilities he didn't even want to think of. He just wanted to stare at the ground, to disappear, to fade away and appear across the world. As it was, he merely met every pair of eyes with his, determined not to back down. Snape for a brief moment looked concerned...Umbridge cleared her throat...Wormtail ducked his head, muttering something about a bond, and James...Bellatrix almost giggled in glee...the Malfoys were smirking, barely holding back laughter.
Lucius and Snape nodded and stepped forward, Lucius on his left, Snape on his right – they each bound a wrist to Harry's, and the others trailed behind, opening the gate.
"You think he'll be put in the dungeon?" Lucius asked over Harry's head.
"If she doesn't make it too difficult," Snape said. "Five galleons that she will."
"And five galleons that he won't bother listening to the bitch," Lucius drawled.
Harry stared between them confused.../she/ ??
In a moment, his question was answered, as halfway to the front door, it opened, and two people stepped out – Harry'd recognize their silhouettes anywhere, but didn't process it, not until they approached their group.
It was the smart and only female member of the Golden Trio, and his enemy of many years...he in a black trailing robe as usual, contrasting sharply against his albino skin, and she in jeans and a pale yellow sweater, with her bushy hair flying loose behind her back...her hand resting in the crook of his arm as they approached rather slowly, like a famous couple in old royal England times, walking down the crimson carpet, like the King and Queen.
The rain still poured down in sheets, but it was as if no one cared. Harry was as soaked as a drowned rat, hair lying flat for once. Lucius' blonde hair and Snape's onyx hair was plastered to their heads, weighed down by water, raindrops dripping down Snape's huge nose. Wormtail, Umbridge, and Hermione, with rather curly/frazzled hair, felt their hair actually straighten somewhat, hanging limp against their faces. Of course, Draco's and Bella's hair was so gelled the pouring sheets of chilly rain had no affect – rain dripped down Voldemort's bald head. Robes, shirts, pants, lay plastered to their owner's skin, weighed down by rain, cold rain causing goose-bumps to rise on the skin...boots and shoes clogged with water...but everyone ignored it...
Harry flexed violently against his bonds, but Lucius and Snape held him back. Whether he meant to hug his best friend, strangle Voldemort, retrieve his wand, or try some failed escape attempt in rescuing her was unclear, even to him.
Harry's eyebrows shot up behind his fringe...was this his Hermione? No....No....No... She was grinning at him, like when they met up at Kings Cross Station last year after summer break...like she was glad to see him. Meanwhile, Voldemort was smirking in a way meaning that he had it in for him.
He was unaware of the pairs of eyes on him, as he struggled to try and grasp how this happened...
He would've thought Voldemort had captured her to bait him, but no – that was Sirius. /Speaking of Sirius, where was he?/ Harry thought. And, Hermione didn't look upset, broken, hurt, or otherwise suffering...rather, she had a look in her eyes as she glanced at Voldemort...the same look Harry had seen her wear around Viktor Krum, or Lockhart...she had worn the same look at the end of seventh year as she kissed him goodbye...
He broke out of his reverie by Wormtail, who was closest to Voldemort. The rat bent down, kissing his master's robes, before straightening and bowing deeply to Hermione. Harry watched in awe as Umbridge, Bellatrix, Draco, and even Lucius and Snape kissed Voldemort's robes before sinking in a deep, unmistakable bow toward Hermione; as if she was their queen. Harry's eyebrow's shot up in shock, pondering what this might mean.
His mind spun, as he tried to grasp what he was seeing. He was seeing one thing, but his mind blatantly refused to accept it...no, this could never happen...this was his Hermione, his school friend...he had had feelings for her since breaking up with Cho in fourth year, but he had refused to show it, as it might attract Voldemort to her, just like all his other loved ones...and he had always thought she preferred Ron...although the Trio never mentioned anything, they were good friends and well, puberty came, and suddenly they were attracted in the opposite sex...
Harry blinked, seeing a gold flicker of light reflecting from Hermione's left hand...she's /married?/ Harry thought. /To WHO?/ And then Voldemort, as if sensing his gaze, held up his left hand - he had an identical gold band.
His worst fears were confirmed. His best friend, whom he had spent all these years with, visited, faced dangers with, went to classes with...was this a spur of the moment thing, or did she secretly hold loyalties toward Voldemort all along? Was she really trying to get him to face Voldemort and die? No...Hermione wouldn't do that...she hated Voldemort and his bigot criminal murdering followers as much as he did...didn't she? And now...she was married to /him/, of all things...He couldn't help thinking that she would've chosen him or Ron, that if only he had bothered asking her in those three long years, shown a sign of his affection, she would've been with him now. The war in his opinion was over. She held invaluable information within her head...it was only too easy for Voldemort to find out about the Order, about the DA, about him, about the visions, Occlumency, Snape's espionage-work, Dumbledore...everything. The world would fall. And be wrapped around Lord Voldemort's little finger.
Harry to all appearances looked broken. Crestfallen. Staring down at the ground, his face contorted in an expression of helplessness, as if he had lost all hope. He blinked back tears, not caring anymore. He was as good as dead. Surrounded by enemies, people who didn't care if he lived or died, who would if they could, personally see to his untimely death.
Hermione embraced him, hugging him like a brother – however the two Death Eaters restraining him prevented him from hugging her back, but she didn't seem to mind. Harry didn't flinch, didn't lean towards her, or show any other sign of noticing.
"It's so good to see you, Harry!" Hermione said cheerily, before stepping back, beside her partner, swatting him on the back. "Be nice," she said, and he rolled his eyes at her. Harry would've found it funny in any other situation...they sounded like an old married couple...but given who it was, he winced, as if witnessing a friend stuck way below the belt.
"Hello, Potter," Voldemort whispered stiffly, although sounding horribly like Hannibal Lector in /Silence of the Lambs/ - all it needed was the washing-hands motion. Hermione couldn't resist snorting at that – he turned his head towards her, but said nothing.
"You two are married," Harry said finally. It wasn't a question. Seeing their nods, he looked Hermione in the eye. "If it makes you happy..." he said at length, in a tone of acceptance.
Hermione turned to the others just standing there, and decided to exercise her power...they weren't helping the situation any, just witnessing this reunion. "Dolores...Bella...Draco...Peter," Hermione said. "You may go." Harry watched in surprise as the four immediately obeyed their orders...Draco giving one last sneering glance at his old school rival.
Suddenly, she turned to Harry, being restrained by his ex-Potions Professor and his rival's father – they seemed to be trying to cut off Harry's circulation, if anything.
"In the cage!" Voldemort said in that high cold voice, at the same time as Hermione said, "Let him go!"
Snape and Lucius shared a look over Harry's head – they started at the confusing commands, but didn't do anything either way. Hermione glanced at Voldemort.
"Let him free – let him go!" she said louder.
"No – I cannot just let him escape," Voldemort snarled.
"He's just a kid!" Hermione yelled, desperately.
"Hardly. By law, he is considered an adult now," Voldemort said calmly, as if explaining to someone who just immigrated into the country and didn't know.
"Just – release him - he doesn't deserve this, Tom!" Hermione said, growing frantic – what was wrong with him.
"No. I know you said 'screw the prophecy,' but it still comes down to me and him having a final battle. I'd prefer it sooner than later," he said coolly. The fact that she was quickly losing her temper and he was as calm as ever unnerved her...it was unsettling, to say the least.
"No! I - I just can't stand loosing either of you! There must be another way," Hermione argued, determined, looking between both of them. Harry was fighting against his bonds, but relaxed at that, as if he realized that even if he was caged, he still had someone on his side.
"No, the war will go on as long as we co-exist. In the end, one of us will die. I cannot let him just escape unharmed," Tom replied. Hermione shook her head at that, frowning. "You do realize," he added, "That even if he escapes, eventually we will meet again."
"Alright!" Hermione said, breathing deeply, and counting to ten in her head. "Lucius, Severus, put Harry in the cage."
Harry stared at her, mouth hanging open, stupefied – he tried to protest but no sound came out. Lucius and Snape nodded, and tightened their grip on Harry, stepping forward. Hermione held up a hand and made an incoherent noise of protest.
"Under several conditions," she said, fairly. God, it was getting annoying being the peacemaker – being in the middle of everything, having to settle everything. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, but she ignored it. "The cage can be no smaller than two by three by two meters. Harry has to receive adequate food and water. A place to pee. And a place to sleep. And he is not to be put under the Unforgivables."
Harry looked relieved, Snape made an incoherent guttural noise, and Lucius sneered unpleasantly at her.
Voldemort just slowly shook his head, disappointment written across his gaunt ashen face.
"Where's the fun in that?" Voldemort asked. "He's being locked up, not checking into a five-star hotel!"
Harry stared, stupefied. Did the Dark Lord just crack a joke? What did Hermione do to him?
Hermione still struggled to reason. "It's the same thing as a muggle prison."
"FINE!" Voldemort said, seeing he wasn't going to win this. But Hermione wasn't finished – she went on as if she didn't hear him.
"And I'm sure you're aware of other ways to torture someone's mind besides the damn Dark Arts – more... creative ways," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, grinning. She made a dismissing gesture, and Snape and Lucius walked in the house with Harry.
Snape and Lucius merely tied Harry up with a simple spell, leaving them free to conjure a cage to Hermione's requirements.
Once they were finished, Snape recalled his bet. "Five galleons," he said, holding out his hand. Lucius grumbled and dropped five gold coins in his hand, which Snape pocketed. The two levitated Harry into the cage and locked the door with a spell Harry didn't know.
He was burning to ask them what had happened, but couldn't find the right words to put it in, so he merely yelled, "WHERE THE HELL IS SIRIUS?" as Malfoy and the Professor left.
His cage was just like Hermione said – a little rustic and crude, but it had a thin blanket on the floor in one corner, a hatch to open and slide food in, and a toilet against the one side against the wall, hooked up to the plumbing. And it was exactly what Hermione said the minimum size requirements were. Damn her. He felt betrayed. Used. Cheated off of. Humiliated. He assumed this was how his parents felt when they found out Pettigrew sold them to Voldemort, or how someone might feel when they found out their spouse had cheated on them for so many years...
About a half hour later, Hermione and Voldemort walked in, to inspect the cage, no doubt – but they walked out quickly to discuss something out of earshot.
"In the living room?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "Of all places..."
"Think of it this way," Voldemort said rationally. "Say you're a fisherman, and you go to a certain river every year – you see this huge, perfect seabass, but you can never quite catch it – it eats your bait, breaks your fishing rod, whatever. And finally you find the right bait and catch it – you're so proud of it, and you want to show your friends and everything – show them that you actually can catch fish, give yourself a conversation point at New Year's parties...so after you eat the fish, you get the damn seabass preserved in fiberglass or plastic, and mount it. Where do you put it? No, it doesn't go in a box in the basement, or stored in your attic – well, it might in about twenty years, but no, you want to show it off! You hang it in your living room, over the mantle..."
He broke off as if he said too much. Hermione started cracking up and punched him in the arm, laughing. It was a side to him she had never seen before. "And that's why I married you," she said, still laughing, and pause, thinking for a moment. "Fishing? Since when do you know about seabass?" she asked.
"What? I was making an analogy to Potter," Voldemort said, frowning.
"I dunno...it sounds like somebody goes fishing every now and then..."
"I DO NOT GO FISHING!!" Voldemort yelled. If such an unfounded, false accusation started flying around about him, he wouldn't be able to stand it.
"Alright...whatever," Hermione said not entirely convinced. "Still – I didn't know you had a sense of humor."
"Ok, first – I had a friend back at the muggle orphanage who was into fishing...so one summer we ran away during Laundry Day and I accompanied him that afternoon – he kept telling me of this damn trout he was trying to catch and his fantasies of hanging it on the wall. As far as fishing, I thought it was boring, and haven't gone since. Second, just because I'm Slytherin doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humor. Even Snape does...i.e, the sarcasm." Great. Now she had quality blackmail material. The evil Lord Voldemort went on a fishing trip. Shit.
Never mind, though...Hermione had decided on trying out international foods – tonight was French night. His favorite. Which made everything all better.
----------------------------------------------------------
