A/N: I loves my beta! *nod me* Anyways, this chapter answers some questions that y'all've had about Hermione *grin* please tell me if you see anythign that doesnt make sense, or whatnot, and I will try to explain :) but I cant explain if you dont tell me!**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
The next morning found Hermione at her writing desk, scratching furiously with her quill in the journal she'd faithfully kept, and hid. It was so important to her that she had put the object under a modified Fidelius Charm. Important, because she was one of those who wrote absolutely everything in her diary. It was a way of getting her emotions and thoughts out without having to reveal anything to someone who would judge her. Today, tears trickled down her cheeks as she wrote.
**March 4,
I had so many bad dreams last night. All revolving around Harry and Voldemort. Since joining the Death Eaters, I've accepted the fact that, should I ever be discovered--and its almost certain that I will, for dumbledore finds out everything somehow or another--that I shall be termed a traitor, and most likely be put in Azkaban for life. Most likely without a trial, much like Harry's godfather, Sirius. It's what I deserve. I know I've talked about this before, and I guess in a way I'm trying to justify my actions. After all, I did go from being the best friend of the Hero of the side of Light, to being a Death Eater, who successfully put said person under the cruciatus. Although, it wasn't because I enjoyed causing him pain. It didn't take much to figure out that there was a way to cast the spell without really wanting to cause harm to the other person; it just has to be done for a purpose, is really all there is to it. What purpose, doesn't necessarily matter. I hated doing that to him, and I HATE VOLDEMORT FOR MAKING ME DO THAT TO HIM!!!! I wish...like I've wished so many times before, that I'd never made the mistake of joining Voldemort. I can't believe I allowed him to sway me to him.**
Here she paused, putting down the quill and leaning back in her chair, rubbing at her temples as she let the tears flow, and thought back to the turning point in her life.
It had been just after she'd graduated from Hogwarts; she and Ron had just been married. Things had been going great for them, and she'd been submitting job applications to practically everywhere that had anything to do with knowledge and learning. In the meantime, she was working part-time at Flourish and Blotts. The pay wasn't great, but she loved it, mainly for the discount she got as an employee on buying books. That morning, she'd been spending time indulging in a good book before she reported to work, when everything began.
Hermione looked up from her book, The Rise and Fall of Grindewalde, when she heard a soft tapping at her window. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of positively the most beautiful owl she'd ever seen, and one of the largest. Quickly she got to her feet, laying the book down on the living room table, and opened the window, allowing the creature in. It flew right over to the transfigured iron perch that she'd made for mail owls to rest on while she and Ron wrote replies, since their own, a beautiful spotted eagle owl, was often off delivering applications for her. She was alone in the house, Ron having to report early each morning (something that he positively loathed) for Auror training (which he was excited about; it was something Harry and He had both worked hard for), and enjoying the peace and quiet. As they got owls quite often, she had no suspicions when she reach out to the owl's proffered leg, and untied the letter. Accio-ing an owl treat and giving it to the noble creature, she broke the seal on the letter as she headed back over to her seat, and sat down. It was short, simple, and extremely interesting.
To: Mrs. Hermione Weasely
Greetings,
Through an associate, I have learned of the fact that you're looking for a job that requires much mental exercise. I was told you were quite the studious girl while attending Hogwarts. A Gryffindor, if my associate was correct? Anyway, I digress. I am a private employer, that does much research into various subjects, from the Dark Arts (only through knowing much about them, can you take care of yourself in a duel, by knowing what curse was thrown, and the counter curse, I believe) to historical battles and strategies.
After talking to a few persons, I am willing to offer you what some would term "the opportunity of a life time." Employment under me, as head of my research team, a very suitable wage, and access to my library, which although few know of its true size, is three times the size of the one in Hogwarts, with absolutely no restrictions in what you can look up, unlike the Hogwarts library.
However, I am afraid there are a few conditions: Absolute secrecy. My name cannot be divulged to anyone, even your spouse. I am a very private person. An oath of loyalty, that once you take up this position, unless I release you from the contract, you cannot go to work for anyone else. You also must be willing to do as asked, for sometimes I need the services of someone I can count on.
This letter is a portkey. It will activate exactly 15 minutes after 11:00. Please take the time until then to consider, for this is no matter to be decided lightly.
Sincerely,
Tom Dolver
She glanced at her muggle watch. Fifteen till eleven. She had a half hour to consider the offer. She already had a strong suspicion of what her answer would be. The thought of full access to a library that big, made her mentally drool. Not having to work under anyone was also a very good thing for the opinionated Gryffindor, and the "Suitable Wage" sounded quite promising. There were only the conditions to consider. Something about it nagged at her a bit, but she decided she was just being foolish. Secrecy was understandable, especially after seeing the way people reacted to fame, fortune, and other various things. The loyalty was also understandable, for this way she wouldn't leave for something different in the middle of a project, among other things. All in all, it sounded very doable. Just to make sure she hadn't missed anything, she read over it again, and her mind was made up. She sat there, staring off into space for a moment, before it hit her. She had a job!!
Jumping to her feet, she ran upstairs, into the master bedroom and began rifling through her clothes, discarding outfits as soon as she picked them up for the most part. What would make the best impression? She wondered anxiously. Should she wear a skirt and shirt alone? Or wear robes with it? Robes would be professional, she finally decided, and after pulling out a white button-up shirt, and a plaid knee-length skirt, she found her best "working" set of robes: deep red, with a severe line to them. Once dressed, she dashed into the bathroom, and began to brush out her bushy hair yet again that day, and pulled it back in a tight braid. Then--a rarity for her--she pulled out the small vanity kit that Lavender had given her for an eighteenth birthday present, and smoothed on just a touch of toupe eyeshadow, and lip gloss.
She glanced at her watch then, and gave a shriek, before racing downstairs. Five minutes till 11:15! Where had the time gone?! Plopping down in her chair, she magically summoned her shoes to her, and slipped them on, and spent the remaining time breathing deeply and calming herself. It was with a perfectly natural sense of anticipation that she held onto the letter when there was thirty seconds left.
Suddenly, she felt the jerk around her navel, and closed her eyes tightly as she was pulled to her destination. She stumbled upon arriving, and looked around the library setting with awe. This was the type of place she was truly at home in.
There was a discreet cough behind her, and she whirled around, then sank into an awkward curtsey at the sight of what she assumed was her employer. Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later when the tall black-haired man inclined his head toward her and said. "Hello, I am Mr. Dolver. I'm glad you've decided to accept the job offer. Please, walk with me, so that I can show you where your office will be?" His voice was smooth, cultured, and he carried himself with a very sure manner, much like that of an aristocrat. She was delighted, thinking she was glad she'd accepted the job.
From there, they'd developed a good relationship, with him welcoming her confidences, and telling her a bit about himself, but like he'd said in his letter, he was a private person.
She shook her head, unable to believe that she'd been such an idiot. "Tom Dolver." She snorted. "I should have figured out it was an anagram for Voldemort right off." But by the time she had, Voldemort had already thoroughly entrenched himself in her life, becoming someone she confided in more than even Harry or Ginny. It was a subtle enchantment, made purely with the power of words, and it was one she felt she'd never escape from. Even now, hating him, having had to kill Ginny, to torture Harry, she knew she didn't possess the strength to break away from him. Only one thing could free her from his influence completely, and that dried the tears in her eyes as she picked up the quill and began to write again.
**It doesn't matter though. We each have things to deal with, and this is mine. Maybe one day, when Harry kills-**
Here she stopped, and scratched out her words.
**Maybe one day, somehow, someone will kill Voldemort. Then I'll be free. I just hope that it's Harry that kills him. I can't stomach the thought of Harry turning against the Light, and I don't blame him for it. He's been used by practically everyone, abused mentally by his aunt and uncle and physically by his cousin. There haven't been a whole lot of reasons in his life for him to want to be the hero of the wizarding world. The hero of any world. I feel so sorry for him, but at the same time, I admire him just for surviving. I also desire him. I've made no secret of that fact to you, journal. I hope he can understand that I couldn't say no to Voldemort.**
She stopped again, as she became aware of a tapping at the window. She frowned, not recognizing the owl, and although she raised the window to let the bird in, she regarded it warily. Pushing back a lock of her bushy hair, Hermione stepped close enough that she could make out the handwriting on the outside of the letter, and sighed in relief. It was just Harry. "I wonder why he's not using Hedwig?" she said aloud, and jumped when the owl trilled at her. The owl's voice sounded familiar, and Hermione blinked. "Hedwig?" she asked, curious. The owl hooted in acknowledgment, and she couldn't help the grin that spread across her lips. "He's becoming quite clever, isn't he, girl?" She reached for the letter, and showed Hedwig the bowl of water and owl treats she'd placed near the perch. "There you go, girl. I'll send a letter back with you if you don't mind." She stroked the owl's head softly, and then headed over to her favorite chair to read the letter that Harry had sent.
Dear Hermione,
Why? You've not lost anyone close to you, it didn't seem like you've been broken like I have...so why? Why'd you turn away from the Light side? What caused it? Please tell me. I was so shocked when I saw you, and now that I think about it, I believe that's what Voldemort was laughing about when he was talking to me through our scar shortly before I joined him.
I know I could have written sooner, but I just couldn't. I needed to think, and plus I was trying to put together this potion. Snape has NOT been a big help. He mainly just sits back and sneers, and does small things like stir it when I ask . . . well actually, tell him to.
I joined the Death Eaters for more reasons than just the obvious. I believe I'm doing the right thing. It feels right, even if it's not right to the rest of the world. Does that make sense? All I know is I want to do things MY way, not be manipulated by Dumbledore.
You wouldn't believe what I've done to Snape. In the past week, I've decked him, and hit him with a bottle. (Right in the middle of the forehead!) He looked positively murderous. It would have been hilarious if I wasn't in such a bad mood at the time. Will he never learn, that especially now, I have no problems with hexing him until Hell freezes over?
We need to talk. Desperately. Face to face. Please. When can you meet me?
Love,
Harry
Hermione laid the letter on her lap, and rubbed at her face with her hands. Guilt was threatening to overwhelm her; however, it was countered by righteous indignation. HE was asking her why she'd joined Voldemort? Acting like she had NO reasons? /Well, you have no truly logical ones,/ a voice in her head reminded her, and the anger faded as quickly as it came. It was true; she really had no truly good reasons for joining Voldemort. She was just weak. The bravery that Gryffindors were supposed to have just wasn't in her. She should have been a Ravenclaw.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the Dark Mark on her arm began to burn, and she quickly rose to her feet, tossing the letter in the fireplace, and rushing upstairs to slip on her robes and grabbing her Death Eaters' mask. As soon as she was downstairs, and outside the apparition ward around their home, she slipped on the mask and Disapparated, hoping for the best.
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Harry dropped the spoon he was stirring the spoon he was stirring the potion with as the connection he had with Voldemort sprang into liveliness, and began to burn with such an intensity that it brought him to his knees, very nearly spilling the yet unfinished potion on himself. Come to me, my little traitor. It is time for you to meet again with your peers. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out, and sent back a pain filled. Yes, milord. Then he heard that fanatical, chilling laugh that Voldemort had, and the connection was eased.
Breathing hard, Harry got to his feet, and looked over at Professor Snape, who was clutching his arm and hissing from between clenched teeth. "You'll have to take me with you," Harry said quietly, moving over to stand besides the potion master. "I can't blind Apparate through the mark, because of the obvious reason." With that--though he was ever reluctant to touch Snape--he laid a hand on his arm, and prepared for the Disapparation. His robes were black, so he had no need to change, and he hadn't been given a mask; apparently Voldemort wanted everyone to be able to see his ultimate triumph.
With his wand, Snape called his Death Eaters' mask, which was laying across the room, to himand slipped it on. Then with a pop, he Disapparated himself and Potter.
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He smiled, bringing his hand away from his own arm. And let a small smile cross his lips. Pops sounded all over as his Death Eaters appeared close to hand. He watched them come, first one, then many. He stood, waiting for them to drop to the ground. Knowing they would. Knowing that they had better. His red eyes triumphant. Bellatrix wasn't quick enough to drop to her knees, he noticed. With a movement of his wand "CRUCIO!" Almost spitting the words. The woman didn't scream; she paled, dropping to her knee's instantly, words slipping out, "I'm sorry milord...I'm sorry...it won't happen again." He straightened, dropping the spell, only to look around at the figures near him. Unnerving them with his eyes. "It seems…we have a traitor to me in our midst..." the words filling the dead silence...
Snape went cold inside, but he allowed no outward signs of emotion to show, even though his face was covered by the Death Eater mask. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, accepting that he'd been found out, and would be killed. A sense of calm filled him. His life would finally be over. No more deceptions, no more being alone....no more Potter to put up with. He had no doubt that he would not be allowed into Heaven; after all, only the truly good, and idiotically brave--like Harry's father--were probably afforded that privilege.
He risked the smallest movement of his head to bring Harry into his peripheral vision, and blinked. It appeared that Harry was truly enjoying himself, at the thought of a traitor being in the midst of them, or maybe was waiting eagerly for the punishment to come to whoever it was. /No wonder,/ Snape thought to himself. /Potter knows I'm the traitor, and Merlin knows the boy hates me./ It was in that moment that he felt a slight tug of regret, wondering if he was one of the people that had driven Harry to the Dark. During the school years, Harry had been so adamantly Light, but now... It was all Snape could do to repress a shiver at the thought of Harry and Voldemort joining forces.
Terror would be unleashed upon every person in the world, only Death Eaters would be spared. The image of a dead Dumbledore flashed through Severus' mind, along with a picture of a dead Minerva McGonagal, and a handful of others, who were the only people he really had any respect for. It was then that he knew that if by any chance he did survive this meeting . . . Harry Potter would have to be killed.
Hermione flushed under her mask, and barely resisted the urge to squirm. She wasn't a traitor, she told herself fiercely. She was under Voldemort's spell. He controlled her just as much, if not better than, the Imperious course. She would never betray him. These thoughts however, didn't stop the hot guilty feeling that spread through her until she stopped it by firmly placing her Occulmency shield in place. She glanced at Harry who was straight across from her, and swallowed hard at the sight of her friend's almost maniacally happy-looking face.
He turned, walking down among his "loyal" Death Eeaters. His red eyes so cold they were like ice. His footsteps sounded almost unnaturally heavy. Not that he stomped. Merely his force of presence was enough to send chills down the most loyal Death Eater's back. He came to a halt in front of Hermione. "Weasley, do you have any actual information for me this time?" His words were smooth. "I grow weary of the promises...of information." His eyes centering on her; he looked across the area towards Potter, a smile dropping to his place. But he let his gaze drop back down to the woman before him. Waiting for her to speak.
Hermione swallowed and dropped into a graceful curtsey before looking at him and saying. "Yes, my lord. They do not suspect anything of me, and welcomed me whole heartedly into the recent Order meeting. They, for some reason, suspect that you're up to something, and I don't know how they got the information, but they know about the attack you're planning. They don't know the specifics, but they've double Auror's in the area, and consider themselves quite well-prepared. Two Aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, are heading up the team of Aurors." Hermione didn't disclose any other names, and sent up a silent "I'm sorry" to the heavens for possibly condemning two people to death, but she had no choice, and she'd picked the people she knew were most likely to be able to defend themselves. "Also, my Lord, there has been discussion of trying to get the Dragons on our side. I believe one of the members has a dragon or draconian animagus and plans on using their ability to help convert the dragons." It was an outright lie, and smoothly said, but if Voldemort were to look in her mind, he would see only what she wanted to see. Occulmency was such a gift.
Voldemort nodded. "Very good, mudblood. You're turning into an even better spy than I first presumed; the information will be most useful." He actually smiled at her. Then walked back to the center of his "little" group. He reached out a hand towards Harry. "Harry...come here...I have a pleasing task for you..." his words turning almost oily. Viperous, one might have said. "I'm sure you will like it." His tone filled with hatred. He waited for the "boy wonder" to make his way to his side.
Harry had seen the smile that crossed Voldemort's face when he was talking to Hermione, and he was filled with dread. Hermione might have been able to put the Cruciatus on him, to wish him harm for some reason, but he knew he could never do it to her. /What's he planning?/ he asked himself silently even as he was walking smoothly to Voldemort's side and executed a bow, filing back Hermione's unbelievable actions for later examinations. "Yes, milord?" Harry asked, his tone just as oily, although not quite as venomous as Voldemort's. "What would you have me do?"
Voldemort nodded when Harry bowed to him. He turned away for a moment, looking at his other loyal Death Eaters. "Bring me Snape!" His words were a bellow. "Bring him before me!" The words so hatred-filled that it was like a soft noise, a pin drop in an empty arena. He watched as Bellatrix and Lucius moved towards the man. Lucius reached forwards. Pushing Snape towards the Potter brat and his lord. Incidentally, shoving him towards the ground as well. Bellatrix couldn't keep the grin off her face. So it was finally the idiotic Potion Master's turn . . . she couldn't help but feel elated.
Snape swallowed hard, but was determined to go to his death with dignity, so when Bellatrix and Lucius moved towards him, he stepped forward smoothly with the pushes, and with his usual grace, managed to keep from falling when one of them shoved him. In front of Voldemort, inclined his head in a bow, and then looked towards Harry, thinking that it was ironic that he was going to meet his death at the hands of the golden boy himself.
Voldemort sneered at the form of the Hogwarts Potion Master before them. "Harry…you may have the honor of using the Cruciatus on your...former Potions Master." The laugh that came following that was harsh, cold, so cold, that it was like ice crawling up one's spine, or the dreaded chill that can cover a body only in death. Voldemort watched; this was the boy's test, to see if he could harm one of his "beloved" teachers. His eyes shown with amusement. It would be interesting to see if the boy could actually pull it off. "Pour out your hatred, Harry; pour out your anger at him. Put it all into your power as you use it to cause him pain..."
Harry steeled himself for his task ahead; he'd gone into this knowing that torturing people was part of the job. So he didn't even appear to hesitate as he nodded. "Yes, milord. Thank you for this honour." When he looked at Snape, there was no hatred, but instead pity. It made Snape frown, wondering why in the world Potter would be pitying him, and at the same time brought anger to the surface. He'd not even scream under the brat's curse, if he could even pull it off. Slipping his wand from its holster, Harry pointed the tip of it straight at Snape, and his lips quirked just slightly before he shouted, "CRUCIO!!" Forcing himself to think of every time Snape had humiliated him in class, and outside of class, of every time Snape had tried to break him. It worked, because Snape hit the ground, writhing in obvious pain, but not quite screaming. Harry held the curse for a good half minute, to make sure Voldemort would be pleased before he lifted the curse, and contemptuously spat on Snape.
Voldemort shook his head. "Harry . . . Harry . . . Harry . . . Did I tell you to remove it? Again . . . and break it only if I tell you to do so . . . " The man smiled, a full minute wasn't enough to find it out for sure, for he was a man now, back because of this child beside him. A child who could serve him oh so well. He watched, waiting until he did it again. "You must learn, Harry...when Voldemort tells you to do something, not to do it only partway..."
Harry mentally rolled his eyes, but responded. "So sorry, milord. I still have so much to learn about how to please you." And with that, he cried out the curse again, but this time it was not the memories of Snape that caused sufficient hate for the curse to torture Snape; instead it was Harry's hatred of Voldemort, which was rather much a revelation to Harry, as he had not known for sure that it would work like that. Snape fully expected that Voldemort would have Harry hold him under the curse until he died or went crazy, and that Harry would enjoy it, so needless to say it was a surprise when the curse him but with less than half the force that the first one did. However, if there was a chance of him getting out of this alive, he couldn't let them know that, so he dug his fingers into his palms until he felt blood, and moved himself in the contortions that signaled the greatest of pain.
Finally, after minutes passed with Snape squirming before them, Voldemort held up a hand. "Enough . . . " knowing the boy would drop it immediately, he wasn't comfortable enough with it yet, but the power was there, seeing the squirming Severus Snape. "Enough..." Voldemort walked forwards, standing next to Snape. Even crouching down so he could look in the man's eyes. "So...you are loyal to me, Severus...that is good to know." He walked away from the man. "This . . . this is what Lord Voldemort asks for!" He walked among the others. "A loyal Death Eater! One that does not waste my time with foolish protestations of innocence, but instead lets his loyalty be proven!!" He walked quickly among them. "But now, I know who the traitor is…I know..." He turned, walking back towards Snape and Potter. Then turned...pointing his wand at Crabbe, Sr. "Crucio."
The word, gentle as a kiss, obviously enjoyed as it hit the man, who fell to the ground screaming. "You thought you could turn traitor on me, Crabbe. Thought you could trick me into killing one of my most loyal death eaters! I didn't want to believe you when you told me Snape was a traitor...covering your own tracks, Crabbe!" The man shook his head. "Inflamarim." A flare of red flew from the tip of his wand, and the man started to burn alive. "This is what happens when I find traitors in my midst!" In a flurry he turned, "And those, like Severus, who prove themselves loyal, will be richly rewarded." The screams of the burning Crabbe where overwhelming. "AVADA KEDAVRA!!" He said the word in a voice that would not be denied. A voice that knew power, and took it as his own. Crabbe, Sr. fell to the ground, dead as a doornail. While the "traitor's" corpse was still burning, Voldemort looked around, his eyes catching as many eyes as he could. "Get out of my sight...all of you..." Before stalking away...
Harry did immediately stop the curse, and lifted his head, cold eyes looking around the circle of Death Eaters, daring them to say something to him for not appearing to immensely enjoy the curse. He forced a smile to his lips when Severus was declared loyal, and Voldemort walked away, but couldn't help but blink in surprise at the idea of anyone thinking that Crabbe, Sr. could be a traitor. He looked too much like the no brain thug that his son was. An urge to gag almost caused him to violently lose his breakfast as his nose caught the scent of burning flesh, but he held it in, although he, like several of the Death Eaters, including Hermione, had gone quite pale, and green around the gills, as the expression was. It was with much relief that Harry laid a hand on the slightly shaking shoulder of Severus, and Apparated them both back to his house.
Hermione, however, could not Apparate immediately. Her stomach was churning, and the sight of the dead body had brought back images of killing Ginny Weasley. It was all she could do to calmly walk until she reach the shelter of the trees, and then threw up until there was nothing left in her stomach, before Apparating to outside the wards at her home.*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
AN: Another one bites the dust! heheeh, please review, i only got two for the last chapter :( talk about lack of motivation if you think no ones reading
Review Responses:
Erise: Your mantra needs to be "Different is good, Different is Good." *grin* Thanks for reviewing hon!
Texasjeanette: You never did email me back on the chapters i sent you, so i had to get another beta, sorry. I hope this answered your questions about hermione! Thanks for reviewing!
The next morning found Hermione at her writing desk, scratching furiously with her quill in the journal she'd faithfully kept, and hid. It was so important to her that she had put the object under a modified Fidelius Charm. Important, because she was one of those who wrote absolutely everything in her diary. It was a way of getting her emotions and thoughts out without having to reveal anything to someone who would judge her. Today, tears trickled down her cheeks as she wrote.
**March 4,
I had so many bad dreams last night. All revolving around Harry and Voldemort. Since joining the Death Eaters, I've accepted the fact that, should I ever be discovered--and its almost certain that I will, for dumbledore finds out everything somehow or another--that I shall be termed a traitor, and most likely be put in Azkaban for life. Most likely without a trial, much like Harry's godfather, Sirius. It's what I deserve. I know I've talked about this before, and I guess in a way I'm trying to justify my actions. After all, I did go from being the best friend of the Hero of the side of Light, to being a Death Eater, who successfully put said person under the cruciatus. Although, it wasn't because I enjoyed causing him pain. It didn't take much to figure out that there was a way to cast the spell without really wanting to cause harm to the other person; it just has to be done for a purpose, is really all there is to it. What purpose, doesn't necessarily matter. I hated doing that to him, and I HATE VOLDEMORT FOR MAKING ME DO THAT TO HIM!!!! I wish...like I've wished so many times before, that I'd never made the mistake of joining Voldemort. I can't believe I allowed him to sway me to him.**
Here she paused, putting down the quill and leaning back in her chair, rubbing at her temples as she let the tears flow, and thought back to the turning point in her life.
It had been just after she'd graduated from Hogwarts; she and Ron had just been married. Things had been going great for them, and she'd been submitting job applications to practically everywhere that had anything to do with knowledge and learning. In the meantime, she was working part-time at Flourish and Blotts. The pay wasn't great, but she loved it, mainly for the discount she got as an employee on buying books. That morning, she'd been spending time indulging in a good book before she reported to work, when everything began.
Hermione looked up from her book, The Rise and Fall of Grindewalde, when she heard a soft tapping at her window. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of positively the most beautiful owl she'd ever seen, and one of the largest. Quickly she got to her feet, laying the book down on the living room table, and opened the window, allowing the creature in. It flew right over to the transfigured iron perch that she'd made for mail owls to rest on while she and Ron wrote replies, since their own, a beautiful spotted eagle owl, was often off delivering applications for her. She was alone in the house, Ron having to report early each morning (something that he positively loathed) for Auror training (which he was excited about; it was something Harry and He had both worked hard for), and enjoying the peace and quiet. As they got owls quite often, she had no suspicions when she reach out to the owl's proffered leg, and untied the letter. Accio-ing an owl treat and giving it to the noble creature, she broke the seal on the letter as she headed back over to her seat, and sat down. It was short, simple, and extremely interesting.
To: Mrs. Hermione Weasely
Greetings,
Through an associate, I have learned of the fact that you're looking for a job that requires much mental exercise. I was told you were quite the studious girl while attending Hogwarts. A Gryffindor, if my associate was correct? Anyway, I digress. I am a private employer, that does much research into various subjects, from the Dark Arts (only through knowing much about them, can you take care of yourself in a duel, by knowing what curse was thrown, and the counter curse, I believe) to historical battles and strategies.
After talking to a few persons, I am willing to offer you what some would term "the opportunity of a life time." Employment under me, as head of my research team, a very suitable wage, and access to my library, which although few know of its true size, is three times the size of the one in Hogwarts, with absolutely no restrictions in what you can look up, unlike the Hogwarts library.
However, I am afraid there are a few conditions: Absolute secrecy. My name cannot be divulged to anyone, even your spouse. I am a very private person. An oath of loyalty, that once you take up this position, unless I release you from the contract, you cannot go to work for anyone else. You also must be willing to do as asked, for sometimes I need the services of someone I can count on.
This letter is a portkey. It will activate exactly 15 minutes after 11:00. Please take the time until then to consider, for this is no matter to be decided lightly.
Sincerely,
Tom Dolver
She glanced at her muggle watch. Fifteen till eleven. She had a half hour to consider the offer. She already had a strong suspicion of what her answer would be. The thought of full access to a library that big, made her mentally drool. Not having to work under anyone was also a very good thing for the opinionated Gryffindor, and the "Suitable Wage" sounded quite promising. There were only the conditions to consider. Something about it nagged at her a bit, but she decided she was just being foolish. Secrecy was understandable, especially after seeing the way people reacted to fame, fortune, and other various things. The loyalty was also understandable, for this way she wouldn't leave for something different in the middle of a project, among other things. All in all, it sounded very doable. Just to make sure she hadn't missed anything, she read over it again, and her mind was made up. She sat there, staring off into space for a moment, before it hit her. She had a job!!
Jumping to her feet, she ran upstairs, into the master bedroom and began rifling through her clothes, discarding outfits as soon as she picked them up for the most part. What would make the best impression? She wondered anxiously. Should she wear a skirt and shirt alone? Or wear robes with it? Robes would be professional, she finally decided, and after pulling out a white button-up shirt, and a plaid knee-length skirt, she found her best "working" set of robes: deep red, with a severe line to them. Once dressed, she dashed into the bathroom, and began to brush out her bushy hair yet again that day, and pulled it back in a tight braid. Then--a rarity for her--she pulled out the small vanity kit that Lavender had given her for an eighteenth birthday present, and smoothed on just a touch of toupe eyeshadow, and lip gloss.
She glanced at her watch then, and gave a shriek, before racing downstairs. Five minutes till 11:15! Where had the time gone?! Plopping down in her chair, she magically summoned her shoes to her, and slipped them on, and spent the remaining time breathing deeply and calming herself. It was with a perfectly natural sense of anticipation that she held onto the letter when there was thirty seconds left.
Suddenly, she felt the jerk around her navel, and closed her eyes tightly as she was pulled to her destination. She stumbled upon arriving, and looked around the library setting with awe. This was the type of place she was truly at home in.
There was a discreet cough behind her, and she whirled around, then sank into an awkward curtsey at the sight of what she assumed was her employer. Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later when the tall black-haired man inclined his head toward her and said. "Hello, I am Mr. Dolver. I'm glad you've decided to accept the job offer. Please, walk with me, so that I can show you where your office will be?" His voice was smooth, cultured, and he carried himself with a very sure manner, much like that of an aristocrat. She was delighted, thinking she was glad she'd accepted the job.
From there, they'd developed a good relationship, with him welcoming her confidences, and telling her a bit about himself, but like he'd said in his letter, he was a private person.
She shook her head, unable to believe that she'd been such an idiot. "Tom Dolver." She snorted. "I should have figured out it was an anagram for Voldemort right off." But by the time she had, Voldemort had already thoroughly entrenched himself in her life, becoming someone she confided in more than even Harry or Ginny. It was a subtle enchantment, made purely with the power of words, and it was one she felt she'd never escape from. Even now, hating him, having had to kill Ginny, to torture Harry, she knew she didn't possess the strength to break away from him. Only one thing could free her from his influence completely, and that dried the tears in her eyes as she picked up the quill and began to write again.
**It doesn't matter though. We each have things to deal with, and this is mine. Maybe one day, when Harry kills-**
Here she stopped, and scratched out her words.
**Maybe one day, somehow, someone will kill Voldemort. Then I'll be free. I just hope that it's Harry that kills him. I can't stomach the thought of Harry turning against the Light, and I don't blame him for it. He's been used by practically everyone, abused mentally by his aunt and uncle and physically by his cousin. There haven't been a whole lot of reasons in his life for him to want to be the hero of the wizarding world. The hero of any world. I feel so sorry for him, but at the same time, I admire him just for surviving. I also desire him. I've made no secret of that fact to you, journal. I hope he can understand that I couldn't say no to Voldemort.**
She stopped again, as she became aware of a tapping at the window. She frowned, not recognizing the owl, and although she raised the window to let the bird in, she regarded it warily. Pushing back a lock of her bushy hair, Hermione stepped close enough that she could make out the handwriting on the outside of the letter, and sighed in relief. It was just Harry. "I wonder why he's not using Hedwig?" she said aloud, and jumped when the owl trilled at her. The owl's voice sounded familiar, and Hermione blinked. "Hedwig?" she asked, curious. The owl hooted in acknowledgment, and she couldn't help the grin that spread across her lips. "He's becoming quite clever, isn't he, girl?" She reached for the letter, and showed Hedwig the bowl of water and owl treats she'd placed near the perch. "There you go, girl. I'll send a letter back with you if you don't mind." She stroked the owl's head softly, and then headed over to her favorite chair to read the letter that Harry had sent.
Dear Hermione,
Why? You've not lost anyone close to you, it didn't seem like you've been broken like I have...so why? Why'd you turn away from the Light side? What caused it? Please tell me. I was so shocked when I saw you, and now that I think about it, I believe that's what Voldemort was laughing about when he was talking to me through our scar shortly before I joined him.
I know I could have written sooner, but I just couldn't. I needed to think, and plus I was trying to put together this potion. Snape has NOT been a big help. He mainly just sits back and sneers, and does small things like stir it when I ask . . . well actually, tell him to.
I joined the Death Eaters for more reasons than just the obvious. I believe I'm doing the right thing. It feels right, even if it's not right to the rest of the world. Does that make sense? All I know is I want to do things MY way, not be manipulated by Dumbledore.
You wouldn't believe what I've done to Snape. In the past week, I've decked him, and hit him with a bottle. (Right in the middle of the forehead!) He looked positively murderous. It would have been hilarious if I wasn't in such a bad mood at the time. Will he never learn, that especially now, I have no problems with hexing him until Hell freezes over?
We need to talk. Desperately. Face to face. Please. When can you meet me?
Love,
Harry
Hermione laid the letter on her lap, and rubbed at her face with her hands. Guilt was threatening to overwhelm her; however, it was countered by righteous indignation. HE was asking her why she'd joined Voldemort? Acting like she had NO reasons? /Well, you have no truly logical ones,/ a voice in her head reminded her, and the anger faded as quickly as it came. It was true; she really had no truly good reasons for joining Voldemort. She was just weak. The bravery that Gryffindors were supposed to have just wasn't in her. She should have been a Ravenclaw.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the Dark Mark on her arm began to burn, and she quickly rose to her feet, tossing the letter in the fireplace, and rushing upstairs to slip on her robes and grabbing her Death Eaters' mask. As soon as she was downstairs, and outside the apparition ward around their home, she slipped on the mask and Disapparated, hoping for the best.
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Harry dropped the spoon he was stirring the spoon he was stirring the potion with as the connection he had with Voldemort sprang into liveliness, and began to burn with such an intensity that it brought him to his knees, very nearly spilling the yet unfinished potion on himself. Come to me, my little traitor. It is time for you to meet again with your peers. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out, and sent back a pain filled. Yes, milord. Then he heard that fanatical, chilling laugh that Voldemort had, and the connection was eased.
Breathing hard, Harry got to his feet, and looked over at Professor Snape, who was clutching his arm and hissing from between clenched teeth. "You'll have to take me with you," Harry said quietly, moving over to stand besides the potion master. "I can't blind Apparate through the mark, because of the obvious reason." With that--though he was ever reluctant to touch Snape--he laid a hand on his arm, and prepared for the Disapparation. His robes were black, so he had no need to change, and he hadn't been given a mask; apparently Voldemort wanted everyone to be able to see his ultimate triumph.
With his wand, Snape called his Death Eaters' mask, which was laying across the room, to himand slipped it on. Then with a pop, he Disapparated himself and Potter.
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He smiled, bringing his hand away from his own arm. And let a small smile cross his lips. Pops sounded all over as his Death Eaters appeared close to hand. He watched them come, first one, then many. He stood, waiting for them to drop to the ground. Knowing they would. Knowing that they had better. His red eyes triumphant. Bellatrix wasn't quick enough to drop to her knees, he noticed. With a movement of his wand "CRUCIO!" Almost spitting the words. The woman didn't scream; she paled, dropping to her knee's instantly, words slipping out, "I'm sorry milord...I'm sorry...it won't happen again." He straightened, dropping the spell, only to look around at the figures near him. Unnerving them with his eyes. "It seems…we have a traitor to me in our midst..." the words filling the dead silence...
Snape went cold inside, but he allowed no outward signs of emotion to show, even though his face was covered by the Death Eater mask. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, accepting that he'd been found out, and would be killed. A sense of calm filled him. His life would finally be over. No more deceptions, no more being alone....no more Potter to put up with. He had no doubt that he would not be allowed into Heaven; after all, only the truly good, and idiotically brave--like Harry's father--were probably afforded that privilege.
He risked the smallest movement of his head to bring Harry into his peripheral vision, and blinked. It appeared that Harry was truly enjoying himself, at the thought of a traitor being in the midst of them, or maybe was waiting eagerly for the punishment to come to whoever it was. /No wonder,/ Snape thought to himself. /Potter knows I'm the traitor, and Merlin knows the boy hates me./ It was in that moment that he felt a slight tug of regret, wondering if he was one of the people that had driven Harry to the Dark. During the school years, Harry had been so adamantly Light, but now... It was all Snape could do to repress a shiver at the thought of Harry and Voldemort joining forces.
Terror would be unleashed upon every person in the world, only Death Eaters would be spared. The image of a dead Dumbledore flashed through Severus' mind, along with a picture of a dead Minerva McGonagal, and a handful of others, who were the only people he really had any respect for. It was then that he knew that if by any chance he did survive this meeting . . . Harry Potter would have to be killed.
Hermione flushed under her mask, and barely resisted the urge to squirm. She wasn't a traitor, she told herself fiercely. She was under Voldemort's spell. He controlled her just as much, if not better than, the Imperious course. She would never betray him. These thoughts however, didn't stop the hot guilty feeling that spread through her until she stopped it by firmly placing her Occulmency shield in place. She glanced at Harry who was straight across from her, and swallowed hard at the sight of her friend's almost maniacally happy-looking face.
He turned, walking down among his "loyal" Death Eeaters. His red eyes so cold they were like ice. His footsteps sounded almost unnaturally heavy. Not that he stomped. Merely his force of presence was enough to send chills down the most loyal Death Eater's back. He came to a halt in front of Hermione. "Weasley, do you have any actual information for me this time?" His words were smooth. "I grow weary of the promises...of information." His eyes centering on her; he looked across the area towards Potter, a smile dropping to his place. But he let his gaze drop back down to the woman before him. Waiting for her to speak.
Hermione swallowed and dropped into a graceful curtsey before looking at him and saying. "Yes, my lord. They do not suspect anything of me, and welcomed me whole heartedly into the recent Order meeting. They, for some reason, suspect that you're up to something, and I don't know how they got the information, but they know about the attack you're planning. They don't know the specifics, but they've double Auror's in the area, and consider themselves quite well-prepared. Two Aurors, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, are heading up the team of Aurors." Hermione didn't disclose any other names, and sent up a silent "I'm sorry" to the heavens for possibly condemning two people to death, but she had no choice, and she'd picked the people she knew were most likely to be able to defend themselves. "Also, my Lord, there has been discussion of trying to get the Dragons on our side. I believe one of the members has a dragon or draconian animagus and plans on using their ability to help convert the dragons." It was an outright lie, and smoothly said, but if Voldemort were to look in her mind, he would see only what she wanted to see. Occulmency was such a gift.
Voldemort nodded. "Very good, mudblood. You're turning into an even better spy than I first presumed; the information will be most useful." He actually smiled at her. Then walked back to the center of his "little" group. He reached out a hand towards Harry. "Harry...come here...I have a pleasing task for you..." his words turning almost oily. Viperous, one might have said. "I'm sure you will like it." His tone filled with hatred. He waited for the "boy wonder" to make his way to his side.
Harry had seen the smile that crossed Voldemort's face when he was talking to Hermione, and he was filled with dread. Hermione might have been able to put the Cruciatus on him, to wish him harm for some reason, but he knew he could never do it to her. /What's he planning?/ he asked himself silently even as he was walking smoothly to Voldemort's side and executed a bow, filing back Hermione's unbelievable actions for later examinations. "Yes, milord?" Harry asked, his tone just as oily, although not quite as venomous as Voldemort's. "What would you have me do?"
Voldemort nodded when Harry bowed to him. He turned away for a moment, looking at his other loyal Death Eaters. "Bring me Snape!" His words were a bellow. "Bring him before me!" The words so hatred-filled that it was like a soft noise, a pin drop in an empty arena. He watched as Bellatrix and Lucius moved towards the man. Lucius reached forwards. Pushing Snape towards the Potter brat and his lord. Incidentally, shoving him towards the ground as well. Bellatrix couldn't keep the grin off her face. So it was finally the idiotic Potion Master's turn . . . she couldn't help but feel elated.
Snape swallowed hard, but was determined to go to his death with dignity, so when Bellatrix and Lucius moved towards him, he stepped forward smoothly with the pushes, and with his usual grace, managed to keep from falling when one of them shoved him. In front of Voldemort, inclined his head in a bow, and then looked towards Harry, thinking that it was ironic that he was going to meet his death at the hands of the golden boy himself.
Voldemort sneered at the form of the Hogwarts Potion Master before them. "Harry…you may have the honor of using the Cruciatus on your...former Potions Master." The laugh that came following that was harsh, cold, so cold, that it was like ice crawling up one's spine, or the dreaded chill that can cover a body only in death. Voldemort watched; this was the boy's test, to see if he could harm one of his "beloved" teachers. His eyes shown with amusement. It would be interesting to see if the boy could actually pull it off. "Pour out your hatred, Harry; pour out your anger at him. Put it all into your power as you use it to cause him pain..."
Harry steeled himself for his task ahead; he'd gone into this knowing that torturing people was part of the job. So he didn't even appear to hesitate as he nodded. "Yes, milord. Thank you for this honour." When he looked at Snape, there was no hatred, but instead pity. It made Snape frown, wondering why in the world Potter would be pitying him, and at the same time brought anger to the surface. He'd not even scream under the brat's curse, if he could even pull it off. Slipping his wand from its holster, Harry pointed the tip of it straight at Snape, and his lips quirked just slightly before he shouted, "CRUCIO!!" Forcing himself to think of every time Snape had humiliated him in class, and outside of class, of every time Snape had tried to break him. It worked, because Snape hit the ground, writhing in obvious pain, but not quite screaming. Harry held the curse for a good half minute, to make sure Voldemort would be pleased before he lifted the curse, and contemptuously spat on Snape.
Voldemort shook his head. "Harry . . . Harry . . . Harry . . . Did I tell you to remove it? Again . . . and break it only if I tell you to do so . . . " The man smiled, a full minute wasn't enough to find it out for sure, for he was a man now, back because of this child beside him. A child who could serve him oh so well. He watched, waiting until he did it again. "You must learn, Harry...when Voldemort tells you to do something, not to do it only partway..."
Harry mentally rolled his eyes, but responded. "So sorry, milord. I still have so much to learn about how to please you." And with that, he cried out the curse again, but this time it was not the memories of Snape that caused sufficient hate for the curse to torture Snape; instead it was Harry's hatred of Voldemort, which was rather much a revelation to Harry, as he had not known for sure that it would work like that. Snape fully expected that Voldemort would have Harry hold him under the curse until he died or went crazy, and that Harry would enjoy it, so needless to say it was a surprise when the curse him but with less than half the force that the first one did. However, if there was a chance of him getting out of this alive, he couldn't let them know that, so he dug his fingers into his palms until he felt blood, and moved himself in the contortions that signaled the greatest of pain.
Finally, after minutes passed with Snape squirming before them, Voldemort held up a hand. "Enough . . . " knowing the boy would drop it immediately, he wasn't comfortable enough with it yet, but the power was there, seeing the squirming Severus Snape. "Enough..." Voldemort walked forwards, standing next to Snape. Even crouching down so he could look in the man's eyes. "So...you are loyal to me, Severus...that is good to know." He walked away from the man. "This . . . this is what Lord Voldemort asks for!" He walked among the others. "A loyal Death Eater! One that does not waste my time with foolish protestations of innocence, but instead lets his loyalty be proven!!" He walked quickly among them. "But now, I know who the traitor is…I know..." He turned, walking back towards Snape and Potter. Then turned...pointing his wand at Crabbe, Sr. "Crucio."
The word, gentle as a kiss, obviously enjoyed as it hit the man, who fell to the ground screaming. "You thought you could turn traitor on me, Crabbe. Thought you could trick me into killing one of my most loyal death eaters! I didn't want to believe you when you told me Snape was a traitor...covering your own tracks, Crabbe!" The man shook his head. "Inflamarim." A flare of red flew from the tip of his wand, and the man started to burn alive. "This is what happens when I find traitors in my midst!" In a flurry he turned, "And those, like Severus, who prove themselves loyal, will be richly rewarded." The screams of the burning Crabbe where overwhelming. "AVADA KEDAVRA!!" He said the word in a voice that would not be denied. A voice that knew power, and took it as his own. Crabbe, Sr. fell to the ground, dead as a doornail. While the "traitor's" corpse was still burning, Voldemort looked around, his eyes catching as many eyes as he could. "Get out of my sight...all of you..." Before stalking away...
Harry did immediately stop the curse, and lifted his head, cold eyes looking around the circle of Death Eaters, daring them to say something to him for not appearing to immensely enjoy the curse. He forced a smile to his lips when Severus was declared loyal, and Voldemort walked away, but couldn't help but blink in surprise at the idea of anyone thinking that Crabbe, Sr. could be a traitor. He looked too much like the no brain thug that his son was. An urge to gag almost caused him to violently lose his breakfast as his nose caught the scent of burning flesh, but he held it in, although he, like several of the Death Eaters, including Hermione, had gone quite pale, and green around the gills, as the expression was. It was with much relief that Harry laid a hand on the slightly shaking shoulder of Severus, and Apparated them both back to his house.
Hermione, however, could not Apparate immediately. Her stomach was churning, and the sight of the dead body had brought back images of killing Ginny Weasley. It was all she could do to calmly walk until she reach the shelter of the trees, and then threw up until there was nothing left in her stomach, before Apparating to outside the wards at her home.*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
AN: Another one bites the dust! heheeh, please review, i only got two for the last chapter :( talk about lack of motivation if you think no ones reading
Review Responses:
Erise: Your mantra needs to be "Different is good, Different is Good." *grin* Thanks for reviewing hon!
Texasjeanette: You never did email me back on the chapters i sent you, so i had to get another beta, sorry. I hope this answered your questions about hermione! Thanks for reviewing!