The Dark Lord Part Four: To Have and To Hold

Hermione stood gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was trying on a wedding dress—white, full embroidered skirt, and strapless. An engraved tiara supported the veil that fell over her coiffed hair and down her back.

The two best friends that she'd had growing up—Melissa and Maria—were with her. They very much approved of the selection.

"Yes! This is the one," Melissa assured her. "It's beautiful."

"I don't know," Hermione hesitated.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Melissa asked.

"She's just nervous," Maria said.

"Don't be. It's the happiest day of your life! You're getting married!" If the other bridesmaid's demeanor was anything to go by, she was more excited about the wedding than the bride-to-be.

A sound made Hermione turn her head.

"Is that my phone?"

"Hermione, focus; you have to say yes to the dress!" Melissa insisted. Maria nodded.

"Okay, yes," Hermione decided at last. She returned to her reflection and gazed at it. "I'm getting married," she repeated.

~CAPE~

In reality, Hermione had an I.V. full of the Dark Lord's toxin strapped to her wrist. Bellatrix, having already gotten Hermione into an old white gown she'd dug up from somewhere (probably rescuing it from destruction-by-moths just in the nick of time), put heels onto the drugged blogger's feet. Lestrange had already placed a veil over the now lank brunette hair, so the shoes finished the job. Finally, the nurse pushed the catatonic Orwell along in a wheelchair, I.V. drip and all, down the hallway toward the waiting groom.

The Dark Lord hated to be kept waiting.

INSERT THEME MUSIC

Harry pulled out his cell phone as Malfoy read Thicknesse his rights a few yards away. The vigilante dialed Orwell's number.

In a bunker in another part of the city, the Dark Lord looked at the caller I.D. on the cell phone: The Cape. So there was someone else in Palm City that used a handle. He might be interested if he wasn't suspicious of anyone trying to contact his fiancée.

"Orwell?" Harry asked when his call was answered.

"Guess again," the Dark Lord replied.

"Where is she?" Harry snarled.

"Leave us alone. Don't try to find her," the Dark Lord commanded before ending the call.

The Cape tucked his phone away and then he whirled to face Thicknesse. He grabbed the man away from Malfoy and shoved him up against a beam.

"Where's the Dark Lord?" the vigilante demanded.

In response, Thicknesse started reciting the Miranda rights that he'd just been read.

Harry reared back, preparing to hit the bastard and make him listen, but Malfoy distracted him.

"Hey! What are you doing? I just arrested him!"

"He didn't act alone. They've got a hostage," the Cape replied before turning his attention back to the criminal. "Where is the Dark Lord?" he asked again.

Thicknesse wasn't answering, though, and Malfoy pried the suspect away from the vigilante and led him into the back of his car.

~CAPE~

Back at his hideout, Harry made an improvised fingerprinting kit out of a candle, a balloon, and some scotch tape. After he lifted Thicknesse's fingerprints from his chest plate, he scanned them onto the computer and logged into ARK's database with Malfoy's username and password. (The blonde really should update his password at some point.)

The search results brought up Thicknesse's career at St. Mungo's before his supposed death.

~CAPE~

Malfoy entered the interrogation room and dropped Thicknesse's file on the table in front of him.

"You look pretty good for a dead guy, Mr. Thicknesse," Draco began. "Specialized in child psychology; graduated top of your class; you were the administrator of St. Mungo's Sanitarium for twenty years. Makes me wonder what went wrong," Malfoy concluded his speech by tossing a newspaper article accusing the administrator of corruption in front of the prisoner.

"Those charges didn't stick," Pius pointed out after glancing at the headline.

"Well, these might because the chief of police," Malfoy pointed at his chest, "caught you loading weaponized neurotoxins onto that truck. But I know you didn't act alone. Why don't you talk to me?"

"You know, in my home country, farmers raise sheep. The sheep will follow the sheep in front of them—even to slaughter," Thicknesse replied.

"Are you calling me a sheep?" Malfoy asked, affronted.

"We're all sheep. The Dark Lord is my shepherd. And I will follow him…"

~CAPE~

Hermione was seated outdoors, no longer wearing the wedding gown, but rather a peach-colored dress. She looked around. There were at least a dozen tables set up for dinner. No, not for dinner, for a wedding reception, she realized.

"Is this all for us?" she asked.

"I hope so," Harry replied, smiling. "We're the ones getting married."

She looked at Harry. For a change, he wasn't wearing either the costume or what she'd thought of as his civilian clothes. He was dressed…nicely, actually, like he didn't have to hide anymore.

But he couldn't have to hide anymore, or they couldn't be getting married in public… She frowned, confused.

"You're not getting cold feet, are you?" he asked.

"No, I just, I can't remember how we got here." Come to think of it, she couldn't remember Harry proposing to her…or dating her. She looked off to the side and saw a white door standing incongruously in the middle of the outdoor setup.

"Where does that door lead to?" she asked.

~CAPE~

In reality, the Dark Lord gazed at Orwell, as the I.V. drip continued to feed the toxin to her.

"I added a sedative to the toxin," he informed her, "to help with the tremors. Do you know why I chose you? You told me that you were an orphan, too, and I thought to myself: She understands.

"And that was before you knew how handsome I really am," the Dark Lord smiled. He hadn't put his mask back on. He'd probably torn it as he'd taken it off, anyway.

"We'll be billionaires, now that you've recovered this piece of paper," he continued, picking up the certificate of birth. "I've spent so long looking for it. And now I will be able to claim my inheritance.

"We'll need to have servants. This formula here," he gestured to the compound, "is tasteless. It can easily be added to drinking water, or a beer at Riddle Stadium.

"The toxin will cause seizures," he explained. "For seventy percent, the seizures will prove fatal. The other thirty percent will be our willing slaves. I'll let you choose your own servants.

"What's that?" he asked, leaning closer to the brunette's still body, as if she had spoken.

"You want me to marry you?" he asked. "Well, that's a big commitment. Will you be loyal to me?"

~CAPE~

Harry, in full costume, crouched outside the gates of St. Mungo's with Ron and Moody.

"Julia," Harry began, using the name that Orwell had used when introducing herself to the Carnival of Crime, "was investigating Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord. I think he may be holding her hostage in there, but I don't know how many guards there are or how they're armed."

"Don't worry, Potter. That's why we brought our dates," Moody replied. He and Ron both raised their shotguns.

The three made their way inside. They started up the staircase to the second floor when Harry spotted Orwell's cell phone on the landing. It started ringing and he answered it.

"Hello?"

"I told you not to look for her," the Dark Lord hissed.

Abruptly, some of the Dark Lord's minions surged forward to attack the trio.

"Don't shoot them!" Harry called to his companions. "They're drugged!"

Accommodating their friend, Ron and Mad-Eye limited their use of the weapons to pistol-whipping and clubbing their opponents. Harry, for his part, mostly used his fists, though he did kick one opponent down the stairs.

There was a tense moment when one foe came rushing in with an axe, but Harry used the cape to grab hold of the handle and tear it from the man's arms.

Once they had defeated their adversaries, the three men made their way to the second floor and began searching for any signs of Orwell.

All they found was one of the blogger's shoes.

"Damn it!" Harry exclaimed in frustration. "The Sanitarium was all I had to go on and she's not here!"

"Too bad you didn't get any answers from Thicknesse, mate," Ron said. Harry's head shot up.

"Maybe I still can. I have a friend in the Public Defenders' Office…"

Moody caught Potter's meaning.

"Is that a wise idea, Potter?"

"Maybe not, but I don't have a choice."

~CAPE~

Al was sitting on his bed, working on his math homework (for a change). A sound from his computer made him look up. The monitor of the camera that Freddie had helped him install showed that he had a visitor—the Cape.

Al quickly abandoned his homework and went to the window.

"You came back. Where were you?" the ten-year-old asked.

"I'm sorry it's been awhile, Al. I've been busy. I need your help."

"You need my help?" Al asked, his green eyes going wide.

"I need to speak to your mother," the Cape admitted.

"My mum?" the boy asked, stunned. He'd thought the vigilante had been avoiding her.

Al went into the kitchen where Ginny was going through the refrigerator, trying to figure out what to have for dinner.

"Mum, the Cape's on the roof. He wants to speak to you," Al told her.

Ginny nodded absent-mindedly and inspected the contents of the Tupperware.

"Is this old egg salad or a science experiment gone wrong?" she asked her son.

"Mum, you're not listening! The Cape wants to meet you!"

"You want me to go to the roof?" she asked, closing the door of the refrigerator. She'd really hoped her son would have stopped seeing his imaginary friend by now.

"Yes!"

"Alright, let's go."

~CAPE~

Ginny and Al finished climbing up the fire escape to the roof. Night had fallen and the evening air was cool. The attorney glanced around. She didn't see anyone. Perhaps now she could convince her son that the vigilante was only in his imagination…

"Mrs. Potter?" a voice rasped.

Ginny swung around towards the source of the voice and saw a masked man crouching on the roof's ledge. Her eyes widened in shock, she clutched the boy to her protectively, and began to scream.

"Al! Get inside and call 911!" she yelled.

Author's Notes: I am so, so sorry about the one-sided Voldemort/Hermione! Brain-bleach is on me.

Anyhow, so begins the Potter version of episode 8. Odd pairings aside, it is a favorite episode, inspiring "In-Laws," and "Leap for the Cape," among other fics.

Thanks to IronAmerica for beta-ing the chapter! And thanks to those who reviewed!

Ah, Revolting is finally off the air! :)

You know the drill. Review if you want to read more.