River Styx

by Kiotary

Harry chose to join Voldemort and is now known as Filldeserp, his most loyal follower and heir. Years later, can Neville and the remaining of the Order of the Phoenix have the strength to fight two powerful Dark Lords? PreHBP. Translation of the fic by Parvati-Blossom.

12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Neither this story or the characters belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Parvati-Blossom. I am just a humble translator who wishes to share this story with the English-speaking community.

Warning: This story contains strong language and images. Torture is a common thing in the Dark Side, so please keep that in mind.

I know it's been forever! I'm really, really sorry! A full-time job and a never ending list of things to do kept me distracted. Mostly because I like to have a few chapters translated before I post any... And that took a while. Right now, I have two more, so as soon as I translate one more, the next will be up and such. I am now back in school getting my Masters, so I should actually focus on writing a little more (because translating is the best way to help me procrastinate, and it also inspires me to write in general, so I can eventually do homework...).

The original story is currently 18 chapters long (with one epilogue still to be written), so hopefully we'll catch up soon. Encouragement will certainly help! (reviews! reviews! please! please! I love reading your opinions!)

Enjoy!

Chapter 12

Westminster

November 1st, 2004

Time: 4:50AM

Hermione tended to avoid situations where she could be at a disadvantage; but on that occasion, she chose to ignore her common sense in place of survival. Five aurors against one was a clear sign that she would need a lot of cleverness and skill to remain alive, and as a good Gryffindor, she decided to take the risk and bet on her abilities.

She conjured an advanced shield and started throwing spells anywhere she could. The furniture and objects in her apartment did not matter anymore. All of it could be easily replaced if she needed it. The aurors did not take long responding her attacks with their own curses, easily surrounding her. She took a deep breath and cast several spells of legality questioned by the Ministry. Filldeserp was definitely a bad influence.

However, it worked in her favor as three aurors were taken by surprise, roughly thrown against the wall. She was not softened by the blood flowing out of their heads, although she felt some regret before continuing with the duel. De Santos observed her, expressionless, measuring her strength, and analyzing her movements… His black eyes disturbed her.

She found herself returning his calculating look. Deep in those eyes, perhaps with a touch of Legilimency, she was able to see his feelings of betrayal, on a more personal level than should have been for a professional auror who had only shared a month with her.

"Why, Granger? What have they offered you for you to abandon everything you are?"

Hermione could not hide her surprise to his questioning. She sighed tiredly. That question… there was simply no valid answer for the Order. They would never understand how she felt. They would never understand what was happening.

Nevertheless, after observing those sharp eyes once more, she understood what was so disconcerting about them. If not for the color, she would have sworn she was in front of Filldeserp. The same determination, the same presence, that suppressed rage, and that hatred of fate. Ironically… in worlds so different, they were so alike. She just had to see De Santos' toughness and loneliness to understand all the possibilities that were collapsing in front of her.

Reality could have been different… if they had given it a chance.

De Santos had wanted to trust her. Actually, against all the hypothesis he had presented to the Order, the Spanish ended up believing in her, leaning toward trusting her honesty… he had faith on her temper, on her spirit… and she…

"Expelliarmus," a voice said behind her. She recognized Francisco Garcia after she was thrown to the floor, losing her wand on her fall. "Despite being an accomplished auror, you are easily distracted, Granger."

His statement was almost arrogant and Hermione felt humiliated. De Santos and Garcia immobilized her on the floor and continued pointing at her with their wands, both with smirks on their faces. The typical expressions to deal with a traitor.

For a moment, Hermione felt relieved they were the ones arresting her and not Neville or Ron. She could not have taken their expressions of fear and incredulity…

"Great. Now…" Lucas pulled out a lighter out of his robes' pocket, which she recognized as a Ministry portkey, and walked toward her. "It is time your mistakes are judged and condemned."

"Keep dreaming, De Santos," a voice said from the doorframe.

The following events occurred at such a fast speed that Hermione was barely able to follow them. Filldeserp, after those few words of introduction, cast a couple of dark spells that made Garcia fall unconscious on the floor, bleeding at an extremely dangerous speed, and that made Lucas move away from Hermione, focusing his attention on a small duel with Filldeserp. Simultaneously, the spells that were capturing her vanished, and she ran to were Garcia lay and recovered her wand. Without looking back at the dying body, she stood up and studied the scene.

"What is so important about this mudblood that makes Lord Filldeserp himself come to her rescue ?" De Santos muttered, and Filldeserp showed him a smirk.

"How is your family, little Lucas?" The Dark Lord cruelly asked. "Oh, right, you do not have one anymore…"

Lucas seemed to get angrier at such words and his spells increased in power, although his aim began to fail. Hermione could tell the heart of the man was breaking at that moment.

"How dare you? Bloody murderer…" The auror spat.

"The anniversary of your dear wife Sara will be soon, will it not?" Lucas gritted his teeth, holding back all reply. "And also of your little girl… Cecilia, I believe?"

Hermione would have thought it impossible that the face of a man could change so much to the mention of a name, but Lucas changed her perspective. She felt deep sadness for that man, who had lost everything to the hands of a war that could hardly be called his. She had heard rumors throughout the Headquarters of the Order; however, Filldeserp's merciless words had confirmed it.

She was joining a side that destroyed families and hearts, deeply hurting the humanity of those beings. She felt a knot in her stomach and an intense desire to cry. But she had cried enough. It was her choice and she would face the consequences…

Even if it was not right. Even if it was not ideal.

The duel and exchange of words lasted a few minutes more until Filldeserp finally grew bored, although it could have also been tiredness after the Congress' activities. He walked up to her, grabbing her from the arm and activating the Medallion's portkey, not saying another word to De Santos.

---

Fortress of the Dark Order

November 1st, 2004

Time: 5:25AM

Hermione still felt numb and did not answer to any stimuli until several minutes later, when she found herself in the Dark Lord's study next to Filldeserp, waiting for the arrival of the owner of the place and with a variety of bitter emotions in her throat.

Suddenly, Nagini appeared from the shadows in the room and turned Hermione into a passive witness of the hissing dialogue the snake and Voldemort's heir engaged. She observed them in silence, not able to understand anything and not wanting to. She doubted they were comforting words.

After a moment, the snake slithered until it reached her feet, where it rose until it was almost as high as her eyes. This time she was afraid of the intense stare those yellow eyes gave her, and she could not help but turn away her eyes from the snake's. Nevertheless, Filldeserp leaned toward her and held her hands on her lap, trying to give her a courage she did not feel. The gesture took her by surprise and she turned to look at him.

She saw a small smile in the usual impassive face.

"Nag is just trying to make sure whether you are a worthy companion for me, Mione. She would suffer before going against a direct order from a Parselmouth."

She took little comfort on those words, but she nodded, knowing she had no alternative, and responded to the snake's look. For several seconds, Nagini continued in that position, showing that long and sharp tongue, accompanied by those fangs full of lethal poison. It then hissed and Hermione glanced at Filldeserp, waiting for him to make a comment about it.

However, the heir said nothing. The snake went back to the floor, where she moved toward Filldeserp and coiled around his feet until it reached a comfortable position around his chest. Noticing Hermione's shaking attitude, he smiled at her while he caressed with devotion the rough scales of the snake.

"Nag has an obsession with my protection… you could say, with my person in general. She considers me… her offspring, or at least, her Master's offspring; as such, it is her duty to defend me." Filldeserp's gaze seemed lost for a moment. "I wish you could understand her… then you would understand how harmless she truly is."

"It's nothing personal, but I doubt she is that harmless with all that poison…" Filldeserp chuckled.

"There are times when the most dangerous beings hold the most fragile and sweet hearts… nature's twisted sense of balance."

"And… what has she said about me?" Hermione preferred to return to the subject in question, feeling how useless it would be to discuss the dangerousness of the snake with a person who worshipped them.

"That no human will ever be worthy of being with me… that in her eyes, you are as useless as the rest… but that it is still my choice in the end." Filldeserp laughed to the wounded expression the Gryffindor showed. "I assure you that from Nag's point of view, that is a compliment. I must confess that I lied… if she had found you unworthy she would have bitten you or strangled you. Nag cares little about the loyalty and obedience vows snakes have toward Parselmouths… she believes herself superior to her species. She would argue she had acted for my wellbeing as I was too confused to realize the scum I was involving myself with."

"Has she ever?" Hermione looked at the snake with caution, which was now licking Filldeserp's hand.

"Of course."

The young woman was saved from making a comment by the arrival of Voldemort. The Dark Lord seemed tired, even if he was as alert as always. He removed the impressive formal robes he was wearing and abandoned it on the furniture. He then sat on his typical armchair in front of them, and hissed, to which Nagini replied while still comfortably lying around Filldeserp.

"Welcome back, Hermione," Voldemort greeted her with a mysterious smile. Filldeserp raised an eyebrow, but did not share his thoughts out loud. "I am sorry that, after everything, your splendid night ended in such a hectic manner.

"It is hardly your fault, Voldemort. I still can't understand how the Order found out, but…"

"One of my main hypothesis is treason within our Elite, and that is why I wanted to apologize in advance."

"Do you have an idea of who it was?" She directed her attention to Filldeserp, who shook his head.

"It is the first sign of treason in several months. We cannot tell much from it."

"But…" A suspicious thought entered her mind. "You knew there was a traitor… that's why you allowed me to go to my apartment…"

"I see the time you have lived with us has taught you something. Yes… you understand how we handle things," Voldemort said with a smirk. "It is the first sign, but our spies in the Order could detect others that were not physically revealed. We wanted to know how far our little rat reached within our circle… and only the Elite had the right to speak freely about our secret. Whoever it was, they must be suffering from the effects of having violated the codes. It was sealed information within the confidence of the Circle, and outside of it…"

She now understood why Filldeserp had been so against letting her go…

"In front of us is now the need to speak about the future." Hermione thought that such capacity to begin a speech must be admired. It was unfortunate that neither of his spectators had the intention to appreciate it at that moment. "But I understand you are exhausted because of the day's activities, and the decision is with you if you would prefer continuing this tomorrow."

If she knew that was a real option, she was sure Voldemort would not be there with her and they would have simply met the next day, though she acknowledged the kind gesture. But Voldemort and Filldeserp seemed in a 'political' mood, so she needed to pay careful attention to the conversation.

"I would prefer now. Leaving it for tomorrow would only postpone a process that inevitably needs to occur," Hermione said, noticing the relief on both Lords. The Congress was obviously suffocating them.

"I believe the best way to commence this… is by starting at the beginning." Voldemort turned his eyes to Filldeserp, who remained silent. "All of this, as you can imagine, would not have developed if the day I looked through your memories I had not seen one in particular…"

"The River Styx," Hermione finished unconsciously and Voldemort nodded.

"If not for that memory, you would have been immediately eliminated. However, due to such resource, keeping you alive could have proven more useful. And, I must admit, I was not wrong. Filldeserp and I started developing a plan based on your sensibility and your old relationship with him… there is no better way to capture a woman under your influence than by using her feelings; and we waited for the manifestation of your power. It had to appear soon as you were living with two people who are familiar with the River Styx… such conditions encouraged its maturity. Thus, finally, that day when we eliminated the last Malfoy, your elemental powers came to light. Wind. Ideal for our plans."

"Why?"

"If you had been water, the entire plan would have been ruined," Filldeserp muttered without any emotion. "And if you had been earth or any other neutral element, it would have been complicated, although not impossible. Wind, however, would only make you be more attracted to me."

"Then… you planned everything until this moment, when I would give myself to you." Voldemort nodded. It was not a novelty for Hermione, but she was still bothered by the light tone with which the Dark Lords spoke of her manipulation. "With what purpose? I have this elemental ability… but you wouldn't need me so close to you to use me… you could have put me under an Imperius or a worst potion, and everything would have been easier…"

"The easiest things tend to get complicated at the end. We preferred to take the hardest path because it would give us the best result… we would not only guarantee your loyalty and will if we deepened your loyalty to Filldeserp… but it would also open a possibility we had been searching for some time…" This time, Voldemort stopped his speech and looked at his heir. He sighed, but obeyed the silent order.

"Time is pressing. There are deals and curses with the Judges and with other ancestors which are forcing us to speed the choice… besides the current war situation. Our lineage must not die, and it must be expanded as quickly as possible. Those are seeds that take years to harvest…" Filldeserp looked at her in the eyes, where a message was clear. "I need to have an heir."

Hermione could not hide the obvious shocked expression on her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but her vocal cords refused to cooperate and she was unable to. And even before she could finish processing such information, before she could analyze the look Filldeserp was giving her, Voldemort continued with the second phase of revelations.

"It could be carried by any woman, and we would raise the child, discarding the mother. Nevertheless, it would be a plan with many complications… Besides, we could not deny the need Filldeserp has of a steady companion, and one worthy of such position… because of his condition as an elemental of fire, few women are adequate for him, or can satisfy his expectations."

"And… you consider me, a mudblood, worthy?" She whispered, the only coherent thought in her mind.

"You are a singular specimen. Besides, you know our new policy with respect to purity of blood and magic. We have evaluated you and consider you worthy. You will have to prove yourself to the rest of the Circle to be respected… but even despite my restraint, Filldeserp has chosen you, and I have to respect his decision."

"How much time is there before it is too late?"

"Two months, if we stretch the timeline," Voldemort said while Hermione bit her lower lip.

"Is that the only thing you need me for?"

"Of course not." Voldemort's scarlet eyes sparked, almost mischievously. "You will be our official representative to the wind elementals. You will be educated in their manners. Besides, you will take a place in the elite when you are ready… and everything you want to accomplish will be taken into consideration. Your roles will vary as you think it necessary. You will not become a pawn, and we will not even try to repress your personality. However, we hope you are aware of your situation, of your position, and of the people with whom you are dealing with."

Hermione turned her attention to Filldeserp, who merely raised his eyebrows and continued with his silence at the least appropriate time. She wished she could say so many things at that exact moment… and instead, she also kept silent. She did not know if she did it because of Voldemort's presence, who forced their relationship to be more private, or if the situation made it uncomfortable.

"Could I retire to my chambers to think about all this information?"

"Of course. Filldeserp, walk with her."

"That's not necessary, Voldemort," Hermione hurried to interrupt. "I remember the way…"

"And the Fortress is the current home of a countless amount of guests, many who detest your origins, your magic, your position, or just your past," Voldemort objected. "I hope you are more thoughtful in the future, Miss Granger."

The girl blushed and stood up, doing the traditional bow before leaving Voldemort's study. Filldeserp hurried to reach her, leaving Nagini carefully on the floor. He found her waiting for him on the hallway, with her almond eyes observing him almost accusingly.

"It is at times like these when I don't see the difference between siding with Voldemort or with Dumbledore," Hermione said irritated. "How can you stand him planning everything for you?"

"He does not plan everything. He only… sets the limits of your path. You choose how you walk it." They began their walk at a slow pace. "You can still leave… argue you were under an Imperius last night."

"I have not chosen Voldemort. I chose you, and I won't take it back." She smiled bitterly. "So… what is the ritual you'll use to seal our alliance?"

"I would prefer to be in your chambers before I told you… I don't want to have an audience," Filldeserp replied with some hesitation. Hermione felt her curiosity grow, but she controlled it.

After all, she also did not want to swear loyalty to Filldeserp in front of the many creatures who wandered that night through the hallways. Even if the ball and the opening ceremony of the Congress had ended, the creatures were in their right to explore the Fortress and continue their conversations with their allies. The Fortress was always bursting with activity, but that night it was more than ever.

The Dark Lord profession was definitely not easy. It required many sacrifices, exhaustion, and personality. It was evident by the looks the death eaters and creatures gave Filldeserp how much they admired him and worshipped him. At that time, Hermione had no option but to recognize he had earned it. It was not only because of rumors, or because he was Voldemort's heir; not only his way of walking and imposing his presence over others, but also his own natural ability to lead. Most dark creatures acknowledged him on his own, aside from Voldemort. He was not his shadow. Filldeserp was his own person.

After several minutes of walking and exchanging greetings, they reached Hermione's chambers. They were just as she had left them. Her books were placed on the small table, her parchments with notes next to them. The same portraits and the same walls. She could not help feeling thankful to both Dark Lords for not disturbing the place which she had learned to care for, and it also was evidence of how much Filldeserp had trusted she would return.

For a moment, she wondered why he had not destroyed it when he believed she had betrayed him and had chosen the Order of the Phoenix. Perhaps because he kept hoping, or he wanted to keep a part of her with him… or simply, he had been too busy to focus on such a useless purpose.

"Wait for me here while I prepare the training room," Filldeserp requested and he disappeared through the door.

Hermione sat on her usual spot. Her mind was still rumbling because of the events of the day. She felt numb, almost as if nothing could affect her anymore. She assumed it was because of her exhaustion. She would process all the information and focus better the next day. In the meantime, she would have to act instinctively. It was incredible how her knowledge could abandon her at the most crucial times.

"Miss! Folly is happy the miss is back, Miss," the house elf shrilly greeted her, having appeared lout of nowhere. She walked closer to her and examined her carefully. "Miss needs to rest. Why don't you rest, Miss?"

Hermione questioned whether the elves also behaved like that in front of Voldemort. She sincerely doubted it. There would not be one left alive in the Fortress, knowing his temper.

"I must do a ritual with Filldeserp before I go to rest."

"Oh. Then, Folly will bring Miss some potions to give her energy. Master won't want her sleeping in the middle of the ceremony, Miss." Without giving her time to answer, the elf disapparated and seconds later returned with two flasks. "Drink, Miss."

"Please, Folly, call me Hermione," she said shyly after taking the flasks and drinking from them.

"Of course, Miss Hermione," Folly happily answered. She then vanished the empty flasks. "Miss Hermione is very good for Master Filldeserp, Miss Hermione."

"What do you mean, Folly?" She was starting to feel the effects of the potions. At least, her thoughts were more coherent and logical. Too many emotions in one day, she concluded.

"Master Filldeserp improved a lot when you arrived to our Fortress, Miss Hermione. We, your elves, were starting to fear he would be lost like Master Voldemort did so many years ago, Miss Hermione. But Miss Hermione has returned meaning to Master Filldeserp. Master Filldeserp really loves you, Miss Hermione. You would do well staying with him, Miss Hermione, Master Filldeserp will make sure to make you as happy as you have made him."

The girl remained silent. At first, she thought about eliminating the words "Miss Hermione" from Folly's vocabulary, because it really irritated her so much respect and redundancy. She then accepted she had been moved by the elf's words, even if the speech had the added effect of those enormous blue eyes.

Had she really changed Filldeserp?

"Folly, you may leave," the Dark Lord said from his place at the door of the training room. The elf nodded, bowed, and disapparated.

Hermione had no time to evaluate whether the man had heard her conversation with the elf or not because Filldeserp immediately distracted her attention to the previous subject of her concern. She walked toward him and entered the room after a gesture from the heir.

The room had no similarity to its previous state. It was not even a room. It was, apparently, an open area. There was a thick forest behind her, and in front she could see the sea, with its majestic waves and its clear blue water. They were standing by a cliff and for a moment Hermione felt vertigo, but she immediately recovered her balance and took a deep breath.

She felt peace, freedom, which helped her understand why Filldeserp had chosen that landscape. She turned so he could see her smile, which was soon shared. He did not show her a forced smile or a smirk, not even the clever smile that he often showed; he showed her that expression that he only shared with her. His sincerity, his love.

She let out her element and surrounded Filldeserp with it, provoking his black hair to return to its unmanageable state. Such formality seemed to upset her element, which only stopped altering Filldeserp's appearance when there was nothing else to disturb. Hermione could not hold back the giggle caused by the new appearance of the powerful Dark Lord, who pretended to be bothered of being the object of her mocking.

Hermione got closer, not able to avoid the feeling of longing. Filldeserp, now more than ever, looked like his old self, the innocent and careless Harry who could not find a solution to his messy hair, and who did not care about the clothes he wore. She caressed his face and leaned to kiss him.

When they separated, he laughed, as he had taken his revenge during the kiss. Upset, Hermione tried to fix her hair, but it was useless. She felt young again, playing with her best friend as they would have ten years before. He also seemed to be enjoying the moment of mischief and immaturity as he was soon kissing her again on a sudden impulse.

Their elements were also playing on that cliff, following each other and intertwining. That landscape was symbolic. All the elements seemed to be there; water, earth… and now fire and wind. She felt happy, finally knowing she belonged to a place… to a person.

"Weren't you going to tell me about the ritual…?" She whispered when her lips stopped been imprisoned. Filldeserp cleared his throat, recovering some calmness.

"I am surprised you haven't realized it," he answered with a smirk. He then looked for something inside the pocket of his elegant robes, ripped by the wind.

Hermione understood the moment he was on his knee in front of her, and he extended his arm with a small black box on his hand, which had inside a ring of impressive beauty. Tears came out of her eyes, as she never thought Filldeserp could be so romantic.

"Would you marry me, Hermione Granger?" He whispered with a calm voice, although his emerald eyes betrayed his emotions.

She had to recognize that Harry had done well rejecting her vow. That was the best decision to seal their loyalty and equality at the same time. But for Hermione it meant more than that, much more than a ceremony to certify a political alliance.

It was the culmination of her decision, of the place she would have on Harry's life. It was also the culmination of the place Harry would have in her life. She knew it would not be a perfect marriage, she knew there would be pain and sorrow, that he was not the husband she had dreamed of when she was a little girl, but at that moment… he was everything for her.

She smiled and took the ring, letting herself be consumed by the flames burning in Fildleserp's eyes, by that light that would guide her. She loved that and she had no desire to be anywhere else but in his arms.

They were more than puppets, more than pieces on a board. They were people with a future in common, a life that they would share.

She finally understood Folly's words. She would not let Harry get lost. She would be his light.

---

Fortress of the Dark Order

November 2nd, 2004

2:15AM

"This castle is certainly ideal to be the center of operations of Lord Voldemort's circle," Phinehas muttered while he observed the area without reservations. "Dark, confusing, and…" a dangerous smile could be seen on his pale face. "Bloody."

Filldeserp only nodded to the description without specifying his inclination. For a moment, due to the tense silence, their steps echoed on the hallway, previously full of activity. At that time of the night, it was understandable why nobody was in those sectors of the fortress, the dungeons for the prisoners. Hardly anyone entered there during day time on their own accord.

The walls were stained by blood, by abstract images near the iron doors. Those were dramatic gestures that Voldemort demanded of each new prisoner; they had to renew the marks with their own blood, make the cell theirs. It was obvious the vampire would get excited before such gestures. Nothing tempted them or got them out of control more than the smell of blood.

However, Filldeserp could not even recognize a touch of fear inside of him. He only observed, almost disinterested, how the count's fangs grew to the provocation and how his eyes acquired a maniac glow the closer he was to victims still alive and with blood running through their veins.

It was a casual visit to the dungeons for the count to insure the quality of his banquet, and for his companions, during the next weeks. He had specifically requested Filldeserp's presence, who had accepted as good host, even knowing it was another opportunity for the count to attempt to manipulate him.

He questioned when humans, dark creatures, and gods would realize that he was beyond their reach.

"Personally, I am starting to miss my home in my dear Deutschland. It is not so different and yet, far from our motherland, there is no place that compares."

"The places where we grow are as part of us as the people with whom we are close to," Filldeserp muttered, instinctively following the conversation.

"And still, neither of them, not the places or the people, are truly us. That is why we distance ourselves from them and overcome them, under certain special circumstances."

Voldemort's heir remained silent. Words would betray him if he continued that path.

Oddly, Phinehas smiled pleased, hoping for that reaction. His eyes turned to the side so that his attention was not suspiciously focused on the young man. His skill in politics stood out at that particular moment by the way he continued the conversation.

"I have heard whispers between this walls… that speak of an heir without mercy and with an incredible creativity when it is time to develop new tortures for traitors and enemies."

He stopped in front of one of the doors, his eyes set on a cloud of blood that corrupted its blackness.

"Could I ask for a demonstration, Lord Filldeserp? Do not misunderstand me, I do not doubt your gifts, but during a night like this, that kind of dynamic would help me feel more comfortable. Closer to my home, if you catch my meaning."

His empty eyes evaluated the price to pay for a product which dimensions he did not know. His hesitation lasted an instant in which, with his magic, he unlocked the cell, making noise that penetrated the silence that had fallen over them. There were times when he had to give in to obtain something greater in exchange.

What was a moment more of pain and screams? What was the difference?

With an eloquent gesture, he asked Count Phinehas to enter. It was not very different from the rest of the dungeons, but it had the added accessory of shackles and three humans inside, one of them unconscious. When they saw them enter, they started to shout insults, which Filldeserp thought were not very original. It was incredible how people could feel such deep hatred and not know how to express it in words…

Both dark creatures smiled with depravity to the situation. The human went silent, noticing his words were only annoying noise for his spectators. Or perhaps it was the tension of the dark magic over his body, causing him to be paralyzed by fear.

"Go ahead, Count Phinehas. Let me introduce you to your entrée," Filldeserp said with bitter humor. The vampire, however, had other plans.

"I would prefer if the dish was first marinated, if that is not a hassle, Lord Filldeserp. That will increase my appetite and I will be able to enjoy it more."

Voldermort's heir preferred not to say anything in response. After all, a vampire always had a voracious appetite for blood and did not need to be tempted to enjoy it. But contradicting the Count would be seen as a serious flaw in his duties as host, especially when the sacrifice was so small.

He examined his future victim with cold eyes while he walked closer to him, planning in his mind the best torture.

"Raw or well done, my dear count?"

"Well done," the vampire replied without hesitation.

Daggers materialized on his hands and for a moment, all his attention was focused on them, admiring them with a professional aura. A ruthless smile appeared on his face when he looked straight into the eyes of his victim, whose fear and anticipation were obvious. His death was sealed.

At the beginning, the daggers merely grazed the body of the prisoner, on an uncertain and disinterested pattern. The cursed human did not stop squealing and screaming in pain, even when that suffering was trivial compared to what awaited him. He did not cast a silencing spell because he could tell Phinehas was rejoicing with every vocal cord he tore.

He called his element to the surface and focused it on the weapons, which soon turned hot. Insanity must have been shining in his eyes because his victim leaned against the wall in an attempt to move away from him at the same time he constantly shook his head, pointlessly begging. He did not require a Cruciatus to break the sanity of some people after all.

The daggers took the same path once more, this time burning the flesh and muscles on their course. A nauseating smell, a mixture of blood, dirt, and ashes, filled the cell. Filldeserp did not diminish his task when he smelled it, or worried about it.

Blood stained the ground. Blood stained the walls. Blood stained his clothes. The daggers continued to tear and burn, at the same time as the dark wizard manipulated the blood inside the body and caused it to burst out of it, of that superfluous prison, and be spilled all over the place. The expression on the Count's face said it all: he was delighted by that morbid ceremony. His fangs had grown and the glow in his eyes could only personify thirst and lust.

With a wicked smile, he finished his work. The body of the victim remained against the wall, held by the chains. There, the masterpiece, previously a vane image in Filldeserp's mind, had turned into reality. The main body area of the victim had been used as the canvas to portray the crest of the Henkel family.

"Your genius is, without a doubt, unquestionable, Lord Filldeserp. I am thankful for the gesture. If only my family could see this!" He licked his lips with joy. "I will proceed to eat, if I may."

"Of course."

Phinehas walked toward the body, still barely alive. With caution that showed his respect for the job, he caressed the wounds that made up the crest. The fingers stained by blood were licked and the flavor was sweet and optimal, as the vampire immediately leaned toward the neck of the mortal being. He sank his fangs there and sucked, closing his eyes and allowing the pleasure to overwhelm him.

The intensity was such that Filldeserp could feel the pressure against his mental barriers, something that should have been impossible as his subconscious took care to repress every external agent that attempted to influence him at that level. He blinked, astounded, when a soft crack was heard deep down inside his mind. Moments later, despite all the present walls that attempted to resist, he fell to his knees, victim of a stream of unstoppable pleasure that filtered through a small fissure.

Next to pleasure, he felt an inhuman desire to drink blood. His senses became more aware and he was able to hear the soft beating of the heart of a mortal a few feet away, besides feeling that delicious smell that only intensified his desire. Everything lacked meaning until that substance was on his lips and he was dutifully drinking it. The pleasure doubled and he lost notion of reality, loose on such carnal sensations.

Numb, he recovered consciousness minutes later. He was kneeled next to the corpse, which at some point had been freed from its chains and was laid without delicacy on the ground. His mouth was an inch away from the stomach, where one of the main wounds had been focused. His hands touched his lips, where he found fresh blood.

Phinehas kneeled by his side with a pleased smile. If he had not been so numbed, he would have reacted and called the Darkness to make it know he considered his vow of hospitality broken. He doubted his request would be granted, as in the eyes of any dark creature, Phinehas' gesture would be considered flattering, and not offensive. But Filldeserp resented it, especially because of the chaos it had brought to his mind. It would be hours before his mental barriers would be at their best…

"I hope my present was satisfactory. After all, I would be a terrible count if I did not know how to thank such dedication… Besides, eating alone only causes me sorrow… I rather share such magnificent banquet."

Filldeserp chose to remain silent to not be rude. Besides, he could hardly say anything in his current condition. Phinehas did not seem offended by the lack of response; on the contrary, he took the wizard by the chin and raised it enough so that their eyes were at the same level. He observed him with adherence, able to see through them something that overly pleased him.

"I have given you today another memory to analyze. I hope it makes you reconsider your decision. My people had many things to offer you beyond this pleasure… but I thought ideal to show it to you so you could know better the deepness of the feelings and abilities of a vampire. Your mental shields might be impressive, but more impressive is our skill for empathy and hypnotism. Not even the present Voldemort gave you for your last birthday can counter it… At any point I can make your shields fall and make you accept my proposal… however, I consider something like this has to be chosen by your own will. But do not be deceived… I can easily change my mind."

The vampire pulled out of his pocket a small flask with a potion which color was so red it made him remember the substance he had just drank, making him want to vomit. But the vampire did not allow him to continue on that trail of thought and ordered him to drink from the flask. He could not oppose and soon the liquid was in his system.

He felt helpless, weak. His mind was in chaos and his body was barely responding. He closed his eyes, risking being attacked by the vampire, but that did not matter anymore. He needed to recover as quickly as possible. He moaned when an odd feeling took him over by surprise and he tried to calm down, taking deep breaths repeatedly. From afar, he felt a hand, completely foreign, patted him on the back and massaged him. It was then when the potion began taking effect: his mind became clear and his body began to react. Soon he recovered his senses and his stomach stopped twisting inside of him.

"Those symptoms are an exclusive consequence of your exposure to the stream… your mortal body cannot handle it. The potion will help you recover faster. Otherwise, you could be undisposed for several days."

Filldeserp clenched his teeth. Phinehas had planned that from the beginning… Voldemort would be furious. And the worst part was that he could not reproach him anything.

A twinge of pleasure made him shiver.

"Ah, I forgot to mention… you will feel the echoes of the stream for several days. Sensations will be more intense, especially the gratifying ones. You will find, once you have recovered, that the pleasure of mortals cannot compare…"

… So, Phinehas wanted Filldeserp to beg him for more of that splendid treatment.

Filldeserp would not sell himself so cheap.

---

He was extremely surprised when, as he entered his chambers with the intention to sleep for at least ten hours to fix his mental shields, he saw a young woman comfortably sitting on one of the armchairs in the main room. He was not used to visits. In fact, they were not visits but scheduled conferences or people whose presence he requested. The only person with access to his chambers, besides himself for obvious reasons, was Voldemort.

Hermione stopped paying attention to the book on her lap and raised her eyes to smile at him. For a moment, the image distracted him from his current weak state, but he soon remembered his exhaustion and sat on the couch in front of Hermione before the girl could stand up and greet him properly. She observed him with worry, noticing his odd state, although he ignored her and took off his black robes and set them on the arm of the couch.

"Are you okay?" She questioned, forgetting the book on the armchair and kneeling in front of him.

"Tired," Harry whispered, closing his eyes and leaning back. He imagined Hermione's frown and he was proud to remember it perfectly.

"It will be better if you go and rest, then. I am sorry I disturbed you…"

"Not at all. I am glad… you're here…" His hand blindly looked for Hermione's, which was resting on his knee. He held it and caressed, able to visualize the incredulous look the Gryffindor had given him, and he smiled amused.

"Voldemort suggested it… I have the report on my improvements in the manners and traditions of the elementals… and he considered it important enough to be analyzed before you went to sleep…"

"It would have, yes…"

"Harry… what's going on? You're acting…"

"Herm…"

"What's wrong?" Her tone was of alarm. Harry opened his eyes and watched her, showing her a wide smile.

"Come closer." Hermione observed him without understanding, but she agreed, attempting to sit next to him; however, Harry's strong arm pulled her so she sat on top of him. The young woman felt uncomfortable for a moment in that position, but she had other things to be concerned.

"Harry…" Voldemort's heir was observing her attentively. His hand was on her cheek, caressing her softly. "I think I should call Voldemort… you're clearly not…"

"I don't need him," Harry whispered. His hand had stopped the soft touch and was pulling her closer. "I'm glad you're here…" He repeated before he kissed her.

It was not a normal kiss, and Hermione was able to immediately notice the difference. It was full of feelings, of passion, and the strength with which Harry was kissing her was making her gasp. It was inhuman strength. She felt intoxicated by such frenzy; she did not know if it was because of the magic surrounding them or because of the amount of feelings placec on the table. She soon needed air and had to push away the lips that captured her.

However, he could not stop. His objective switched to her neck, where he began kissing her and biting her softly. Hermione's hands had to hold onto Harry's black shirt so she did not fall. He did not seem to be bothered by it, although his lips showed her a wicked smile that for a moment disturbed her. Then, she was too busy enjoying his touch.

Not conscious of her own actions, she unbuttoned his shirt and shyly touched Harry's skin with her fingers. She found it cold -although that was quickly finding a solution- and slightly rough. The young man caught her observing his chest fascinated, which made her blush in embarrassment. He laughed and caressed her cheek again, with a tenderness he did not show often.

"I guess it was naïve of me to think that an athletic man like you would have a common body…" Hermione muttered.

"Does is intimidate you?"

"A little." Harry definitely adored the pink hint on the cheeks of his beloved. "You're the first man with whom…. Uhm…"

"I understand." And his green eyes assured her of it. "Do you want to continue? Or would you prefer…?"

"I want to continue… although I'm not ready, but… I would like to… learn…?" He smiled, touched by her innocence.

Harry took her in his arms and helped her lie down on the long couch. He placed himself on top of her, with a smile that under other circumstances would have caused her extreme fear. He continued with his kisses on her neck, and soon his hands slid down to her waist, where they sneaked under her blouse. The intrusion overwhelmed her, causing her face to be completely red, although soon she became used to the touch on her stomach. At that point, Harry found a sensitive point that tickled her and she began laughing exaggeratedly, a mixture of nerves and excitement.

The interruption did not bother Harry. He stopped for a few long seconds, watching her as she laughed, and his eyes shined with a feeling that Hermione could only interpret as warmth and love. He kissed her again, this time slowly and increasing the intensity.

Harry's mind was a chaos of emotions. Every contact with Hermione's skin provoked him sensations that escaped him quickly, increasing his longing for more. He did not know how he was capable to control himself and keep some calmness, as every smile, every laugh, every touch of the girl drove him insane. When he kissed her, she could feel again an echo of that penetrating passion, similar to what he had experienced before when he drank blood. It was so delicious it hurt.

His mental shields had been forgotten. He moved by instinct, by his feelings, and much more sincerely than he had done so in years. Every kiss, every touch, took his breath away and made him feel through every pore of his skin the love he felt for that woman; he longed to protect her, to hold her in his arms; he longed to be the cause of her smiles and the glow of her eyes…

To know she was his and nobody else's… that only he could cause all those feelings in her, and she in him. Only she made him shiver with her kisses, and only he caused that blush, only he could explore her… only he received that sweet look… hers.

The obsession for the possession must have been transmitted on that kiss as Hermione moaned to the pressure. He wanted more of those moans, and would have insisted, if it was not because his consciousness took lead momentarily. In his mind, something was telling him he would regret it if he hurried things… and that it would be better if he had small appetizers of that fragrance that absorbed him and dazzled him.

"It'll be better if we leave the report on the elementals for tomorrow, won't it?" Hermione whispered with her eyes closed.

"Obviously."

For a few minutes they remained silent, enjoying the peaceful moment.

"Do you want… to stay with me tonight?" Harry muttered carefully. Hermione opened her eyes and smiled.

"I would love to."

That was how they stood up and walked to his bedroom. Hermione mockingly commented on the somber look of the place, and Harry enjoyed the small argument that followed it, playfully insinuating his annoyance with scarlet and golden colors. Then, the young woman kindly asked a house elf to send her night clothes and she went to the bathroom, walking out minutes later wearing her white nightgown, which according to Harry, fit her perfectly.

On his part, the Lord only had to snap his fingers and his clothes were transfigured. Hermione faked a look of annoyance and envy, to which he sneered.

They did not take long lbefore they were lying under the blankets. At the beginning, Hermione preferred to keep some distance, but she relaxed when she noticed Harry did not care and continued chatting as if he had not noticed her discomfort, which was impossible. As minutes went by, the young Gryffindor took courage and leaned closer, cuddling with him while her head rested on his shoulder. She could hear her own heart beating faster, but Harry only showed her a bigger smile and kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that made her remember another sweet moment.

Her father used to do that as well.

Bitter tears ran down her cheeks, but her smile was a wide as before. Harry observed her with worry, but Hermione only shook her head and leaned even more on his shoulder.

"I am also happy you are here…"

She fell asleep soon after, feeling safe and comforted in those arms, in that place where Harry's fragrance covered everything. Even her.

---

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

November 5th, 2004

9:00PM

The days were more grey and cloudy lately, and it was not because of the approaching winter, as many people would like to think. In particular, Neville felt every day an internal cold that was spreading with time, draining his strength and his spirit. Since the beginning of November, he felt it focusing on his heart, and nothing had worked to return it its natural warmth.

The most immediate reason had been Hermione's betrayal. Neville could not deny it had functioned as detonator for all his bitterness and sorrow. Unlike Ron, Neville had not let himself be deceived by the circumstances. When Lucas De Santos delivered his report at an urgent meeting of the Order that same November 1st, Longbottom had been able to assume the authenticity of his statement, even if he could still not find an explanation for Hermione's decision.

Ron had lost all control and started yelling at De Santos, blaming him for not being able to stop Hermione. The young Weasley insisted that Hermione had not been acting of her own free will and that if she had been released from Filldeserp's web, the Order could have found a way to heal her mind. Dumbledore's intervention was necessary to stop an imperious duel of honor between De Santos and Ron. After that, the red-hair had left the room and did not appear until the next morning at the Ministry, avoiding having a discussion with anyone, even with Neville.

The young auror sighed as he sat at the kitchen in Headquarters, with just a cup of tea to focus his sorrow. At first, he had almost reacted like Ron, but he had contained himself for the mere fact that he did not think it was right to blame Lucas. Neville knew his great abilities and if he had not been able to capture Hermione, it has not been his fault, but Filldeserp's. As brilliant as the Spanish was, he doubted he could defeat the Dark Lord on a duel one-on-one… he knew from experience.

"Even if only risks await you… it would have been worth it. It would have been worth everything…"

He had not established his position about Hermione's betrayal until several hours after the meeting, lying on his bed and observing the ceiling of his bedroom, not able to fall asleep. He had analyzed the last month he had spent with Hermione and had even used a pensieve for some of the conversations; and he had reached the conclusion that it had been Hermione's choice.

"Tell me, Herm, is there someone in your mind?"

He did not know exactly why or how, but he knew his friend had not been under any influence, except for that of her own heart. That Someone… had been and was Filldeserp. That was the reason of her sad look. That was the reason behind her abstract questions at the oddest moments… That was the reason why her friend was not looking at him in the eyes, but observing an invisible and far away reality.

He did not justify her; and he would most likely never forgive her, but at least he was able to see and not lie to himself. She had abandoned them… but not because she had deceived them in her beliefs, her will, her love for them, or her calling; but because her soul had led her to somewhere else, with another man. For a moment, such reasoning seemed illogical for the always reasonable Hermione, but Neville knew his friend was also instinctive, and let herself be guided by her feelings…

He would have wished her feelings led her to different circumstances; that she would have overcome her mind in different areas; but if she had done so for Filldeserp… it was for a reason. That was the last thing he could give Hermione. He would not hate her, would not blame her, but he would not forgive her or forget her.

"And what do you fight for, Nev?"

He finished his cup of tea and stood up. It was time to face reality. A meeting of the elite in the Order of the Phoenix was waiting for him.

"Neville… what are you still doing here?" Ginny asked from the doorframe, her eyes full of worry.

He allowed himself a weak smile. He could have asked the same thing to the youngest Weasley, but he found himself knowing the answer without needing confirmation.

"I needed some tea," he answered mysteriously as he walked toward her. "Shall we?"

Albus, Remus, Tonks, Luna, the three Spanish, and some other members of the Order whose names he knew but he was not interested in remembering, were already in the Room. In fact, Ginny and he were the only two missing. They apologized for the delay and took their seats. Neville felt himself unsettled by the deep look Ron was giving him, but he could not figure out its origin. Luna shared his unease, apparently, from the way she was trying to catch Ron's attention and distract him from his conflicting thoughts.

"Welcome," Albus greeted them. His face showed his tiredness and defeat. "This meeting, as you know, has been called to define our response to the latest developments. Besides giving you proof of… the change in loyalties of Miss Granger, which Ronald requested at our previous meeting, with all right."

Ron had also refused to believe in Dumbledore's word when he assured him he was completely sure about Hermione. He had demanded to know the source of his confidence, to which the professor had responded he could not do so at the moment, but that soon he would have his evidence.

Neville knew that part of the proof were the studies De Santos had done on Hermione's character and her movements once she had acquired her freedom and independence. They had followed her at every outing and had looked for reasons behind her interests in museums, libraries, muggle public buildings… It had not been unusual as Hermione had done those visits often since before her kidnap. Nevertheless, Lucas had been sure they could deduce a plot behind all those outings.

The other source turned out to be infiltrated in the inner circle of the Dark Lords. The auror questioned how that was possible. He had been unaware the Order had any informants in such honorable place in the hierarchy… The Dark Lords were not idiots and knew to be certain of the loyalty of their closest followers before of those who they were only initiating. Besides, it was odd that a person who had such trust from Filldeserp and Voldemort would want to abandon them, much less feel guilty and betray them. Snape had been an endangered species, and everyone had been witness of his great sacrifice and the price he paid for it.

The contact in question could not appear on that meeting arguing that their Lords had requested their presence the Fortress, but Dumbledore's genius, occasionally, was able to overcome the barriers of the Dark Arts. He had given the Contact an object (he had refused to say exactly what it was) that would function as a channel for dialogue. Dumbledore set the ring he often wore on his right hand on the table, and from there the distorted voice of the Contact came through, although Neville could register a female pitch.

"I hope you acknowledge the risks I'm taking at this exact moment by engaging in this conversation," the Contact said. "I understand the Lords cannot detect the magical trace of this object, but one can never be completely sure these days…"

"What tasks are you in charge of these days?" Dumbledore asked.

"The members of the elite are in charge to coordinate certain activities mandatory for the Congress… the variety is infinite. Besides, the Lords don't often trust us with all the information, so I know I am only doing part of the job."

"I would like you to repeat your report on Hermione Granger."

"Do you still doubt? Filldeserp does not often rescue his subordinates… that alone tells you how special Granger is to him."

"Even so, I would like you to…"

"I understand," the Contact interrupted him. "Hermione Granger was not tortured, nor did she spend a month in the dungeons."

"What about her wounds?" Ron questioned, not able to hide the skepticism in his voice.

"Filldeserp is a master of glamours. Austen is one as well. I suspect between the two of them they obtained the perfect mask."

"Why was Hermione not treated like a prisoner?" Neville asked. "Filldeserp would not have had mercy for any member of the Order…"

"I do not know their motives. I only know it was part of a plan set by the Lords, which worked out. Granger had absolute freedom to walk around the Fortress and I was able to see her many times in the company of Filldeserp. There are even rumors among the death eaters that he killed, without torturing, the Carrows to defend her."

"None of this makes sense," Ron muttered. "How can we trust this person? Until now, Albus, the only proof you have of Hermione's betrayal is this testimony… but it also doesn't have much veracity. Why, if so many death eaters saw Hermione, didn't one of our other contacts say anything about it?"

"The death eaters were under a spell that forbade them to speak about her. Only we, the Inner Circle, could do so, although the price was high."

"You mean?" De Santos said, asking for more details.

"The torture I suffered is indescribable. I can only claim damage to my mental shields, which I doubt will ever be repaired, and, as it was expected, physical pain, although I have taken care of it."

"Do the Lords suspect your betrayal?"

"They know there is a traitor in their circle, but I have not acquired any more information. I doubt their eyes are on me, however."

"Why?" Ginny asked.

"Appearances."

The interrogation continued a few minutes more until the Contact announced their departure. The Contact did not give any information of great relevance or as disturbing as Hermione's loyalty, but they left the elite of the Order in complete silence.

Neville knew how careful they had to be when considering the information given to them by the Contact. People so close to the Lords had very rooted cleverness and sense of survival. It did not matter what Dumbledore offered them in exchange, the Contacts always gave speeches with double meaning and heavy news were not immediately given because of the risk of an ambush led by the Lords in pursuit of their traitor. There was even a possibility of misinformation, and not because the Contact was not sincere.

They could not forget as well that the Contact was still a death eater and that perhaps they were reaching to them under the orders of the Lords. It had happened on previous occasions, and it could happen again. Their plans were twisted and they could not predict them.

Unavoidably, the members of the Order questioned Dumbledore on the amount of trust they could lay on that Contact. Their respectable leader warned them he had performed a test of trust on the Contact, with both Veritaserum and Legillimency, and that the Contact counted with his full support. That would have meant more to the young people at one point, but Neville could see Ron's, Luna's, and Ginny's hesitation when they exchanged looks. He felt doubts as well. However, his stance when it came to Hermione's betrayal was different, and it did not matter whether the Contact was being honest or not.

Incredulity, nevertheless, confirmed something about the Order of the Phoenix.

They were falling apart.

They were not united anymore. They were not so confident. They did not share the same methods anymore.

Having a contact in Voldemort's elite did not turn out to be as good news as Neville would have believed.

The meeting lasted an hour and a half longer. When it finally ended, the four friends did not take long leaving the room and meeting in the kitchen for another cup of tea. They needed it to calm their nerves, and they needed to talk. Neville had insisted until they agreed. He was hurt by their courtesy, but especially by the indifference in Ron's eyes, although he controlled his reaction.

He did not care if the Order remained united or not. They had to remain united… although the latest events seemed to indicate they would be disappearing one by one. First Harry. Now Hermione… who would be next?

Ginny sat next to him and took his hand. For a moment, Neville was tempted to join their lips, with Hermione's whispering voice deep in his mind as an incentive, arguing about sacrifices and risks that had to be challenged. But he chose to hold back and observe those chocolate eyes and try to calm her with a small smile.

In his heart was the fear of not seeing her anymore, of being separated… and that she would also vanish from his side, from his life. But there, admiring her, he took the decision he had been pondering on for some time. He loved her and would do the impossible so she remained by his side, to protect her, to keep her in his arms.

He would do the impossible.

Once the tea was served, Neville opened his mouth to begin, but they were interrupted by Remus and Tonks, who were surprisingly holding hands. It was not a surprise they were together as a couple; it was old news in the Order, but they did not often show it so openly. In fact, Remus rarely talked about her, and Tonks was not often in Headquarters, except for meetings.

He felt slightly guilty for holding such thoughts, but Neville doubted Tonks and Remus loved each other deeply. Yes, they liked each other, they made a nice couple, they shared many things; but Neville knew that Remus, with all his losses and due to his werewolf condition, would never fully give himself to a woman. Nor he would allow himself to receive that from her. It was a pity, because both could be reborn from that relationship, but there was no point in holding impossible dreams. Remus was not a man of risks anymore. He was not a man who wanted to live.

"We will be brief, we don't want to delay your discussion," Remus said with seriousness. His hand held Tonks' with more strength and he tried to show a smile, which turned into a grimace. "I know this is not news that would cheer you up too much given the circumstances, but…" He bit his lower lip. "I would like you to know."

"What's going on, Remus?" Ginny asked beginning to worry.

"I'm pregnant," Tonks muttered, with her eyes shining because of the tears.

The movement of chairs was not instantaneous, but the couple was soon being comforted by hugs and congratulations.

Life continued despite the war, even if their survival was still not certain. In his mind, Neville promised that it would be, so long as the hope of new life filled their hearts.

---

In that infinite web of shadows, the creatures slithered and roamed without a destination. Under such conditions, colors that resembled blood were mixed and only showed more sorrow. The sweet smell that always filled that place spoke of death, sacrifices, and lost opportunities.

Sharp and abstract weapons slashed and caused deep wounds on immaterial flesh. No red substance emerged from it, just darkness. The tears were deformed and their limits became lost: where the area began or ended, and who was who. The essences were mixed with an unreachable frenzy for mortals, and that they could not even imagine in their minds.

Swimming in a sea of shadows was the life of those creatures. It was a tiresome life, but a life they loved anyway. There, life was born and lost meaning. There, magic died and took a new dimension…

Lights that helped spread the shadows. Lights that were dyed in grey and dark tones. Lights that had no origin or destination. Lights that camouflaged in the deepness of that eternal ocean, lost, absorbed by an invisible enemy, stronger than all the lights together.

Death, where there was no time, where there was no destinations, where there was nothing more… except broken souls because of incurable wounds.

She knew each of one of her Children. She took care of them and spoiled them. Some more than others. Nevertheless, her Children were always happy with her and they obeyed each one of her orders. There was no envy or bitterness. They only recognized her, because they had lost their identity in the abyss.

That was why she found it odd when she noticed on one of the shapeless shores one of her Children with a consciousness, with an untouched soul and magic. All of that gave them an identity, a destination, a meaning. And none of her Children possessed that. They belonged to her and no one else. That had to be enough for them to feel satisfied. Who would not want to be a servant of Death? Who wished to be before her as an independent individual? Did they seek to rebel against her and take her Children?

Furious with that disobedient Child she went quickly to that shore. When she arrived, she noticed the Child had been waiting for her, patiently, fearless. That worsened Death's mood as never before had someone dared to challenge her. How it hurt that one of her Children would be the first!

She extended her viscous hand to take his soul, but the Child resisted and kept calm, not allowing her to taste his essence in the surface. No one had ever resisted her charm! Much less one of her children!

Outraged, she threw herself at the Child, who pushed her aside and held her firmly with his arms. Their blurry faces found each other and it was then when Death observed for the first time two eyes of an undying emerald color. None of her Children had eyes, much less ones so precious. She deeply wished to possess them, to take them from that flesh and keep them in a box hidden deeply in her Kingdom, to be marveled by them whenever she wanted. That Child had no right to have them. He was not worthy of those eyes. They had to be Hers.

"The stars have guided me here, my Lady."

She did not pay attention. She was absorbed by those Emeralds. Perhaps she could combine them with the golden threads she occasionally took from some kind souls, or she could place them on a plaque forged by her Children, with some lights that danced on her ocean…

"I would like to speak with You. Or at least, with one of your subjects…"

The Carrier of her Emeralds had dared to name her Children! She was sure: he wanted to separate them from Her, he wanted to kidnap them. But she would be damned if she agreed to have her Children mistreated in any way. She would be damned if she lost her Children…

"You will not go close to any of them, Carrier of my Emeralds. If you do, I will personally make sure there is nothing left of your Eyes, even if it hurts me."

"I will not get close to them, then. Are you willing to speak with me?"

"Of course. But nothing is free, even in life."

"What do you want, my Lady, in exchange for your words?"

"What are you willing to give me, Carrier of my Emeralds?"

"There is no flesh, no magic, no soul that can satisfy your thirst. Nothing I possess in my mortal body can be of great value to You, my Lady. However, here I am, accepting the price you want for your words. Even something I cannot give you in my mortal life."

"My price is not high, Carrier. Your Emeralds."

"When my mortal life is over?"

"Correct. Keep in mind that can happen at any time from this Pact… when my desire to have them is greater than my worry for your meaning."

"If the stars guided me here… is because they wanted this Pact to be sealed. I accept, my Lady."

The Carrier stopped holding her and she took some steps back. But she got close again, her hand caressing the face of the Carrier with longing. A black spot took shape on that skin, a permanent mark of his touch with Death. In the future, it would be dead flesh. At the moment, it was just a sign of possession, a sign of that Pact.

"I long for the moment when you will be one of my Children," she whispered almost unconsciously. "I will take care of you like one more of my precious Children…"

"Do you think the Judges would allow you the possession of my soul?" The Carrier whispered with a slight touch of apprehension. Nobody could resist her touch, she knew it. Everyone always wished to be part of her great Family.

"If they do not grant it to me, I will take care to destroy each one of the walls of their kingdom. Oh, I have been wanting for some time to have an excuse to expand my kingdom over the River…" She held between her black fingers the Carrier while she admired the emeralds again. "What is that you wished so vehemently to speak with me, my future Child?"

The emeralds shined particularly at that moment, and Death fell in love with them again. She wished she could repeat the question to observe once more their rejuvenated glow. It was not fair that those mortals could admire those emeralds daily and She could not! He was destined to be one of her, she knew it. The Judges had created him as a gift for Her, yes…

She would be damned if she rejected it.

---

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

November 17th, 2004

6:20PM

Hopelessness.

That was what filled the atmosphere in Headquarters. Somber faces and tired bodies. Aurors who arrived from their duties in the Ministry five hours after they were supposed to. Healers whose time was not enough to save all the lives they would want. Politicians who could not reach the necessary power to guide the Ministry better. Contacts outside who were vanishing. People who betrayed them or vanished…

It was nothing uncommon, but Ginny still felt that suddenly, the world was falling on them. Every bag under their eyes was proof of the inhuman sacrifice they were doing to pay an infinite debt.

The attacks had not stopped. But that was not the worst. It was the knowledge that for the Dark Lords, they were just some entertainment for their troops until the final strike. As if it were a game, the number of victims in that war increased every day, and at an unstoppable pace.

That morning she had taken under her care a young girl no older than two years. Those inhuman beasts that called themselves death eaters had amputated her leg an arm, besides hurting her eyes without any possible recovery. She had died a few minutes later in her arms because of the immense loss of blood and the helpless suffering that the brain cells of the little girl had suffered. She was not able to do anything to help her.

Impotence.

She had learned to accept the injustices in life through her profession. It had taken her years to mentally adapt, but her humanity still cried for every being who lost their life, the opportunity to be, in a brutal way. She had seen terrible things; all kinds of mutilations, poisons, lethal diseases. However, she had never lost faith in life and its beauty. Every time one of her patients died, she cried with authentic sorrow, for all the lost moments. She even did it for that soul which had abandoned the mortal plane to find comfort, and that there was at least one soul to accompany it in its pain.

Destroyed families.

That was how Neville had found her that evening; lying on a couch on a corner of the room, crying from the deepness of her chest. His friend had not hesitated to get closer and hug her, to then remain by her side, rocking her and whispering comforting words in her ear.

She held onto him, onto his purity, onto his noble soul. She had fallen for that man, and she was happy with the choice of her heart. She wished that baby girl had lived long enough to meet that man and discover that in life, there were also good things. Not only blood. Not only pain.

Not only loneliness.

The auror was caressing her cheek, wiping the tears away. He observed her with love, with that distinctive glow in his brown eyes, and he gave her all his attention, all his caring. She almost felt like a little girl again, innocent and happy, in the arms of her mother. She could imagine herself far from there, in an imaginary country, where all the colors were pastel and she was surrounded by everyone who she loved in the world. She could see a sunny day, the park where she used to play as a child, those faces and those smiles lost so long ago… she could almost hear their voices, calling her, and those sweet smells…

But her mother was dead, just like most of her brothers. That imaginary country broke apart and she remembered she lived in a somber city, where almost every day the grey clouds covered the sun, and where she could no longer hear voices. Only screams of anguish and death. The predominant smell was blood, and the smiles were unfamiliar, although not as much as mercy and compassion.

Nevertheless, life was beautiful. She was sure of it.

The young man observed her so shocked that she felt guilty of having asked such thing. It had been the wrong time to ask her question, and she quickly apologized. But Neville did not accept his apologies and, instead, he took her by the chin and lifted her face for their eyes to meet.

Because he did not want her to doubt his honesty.

"Yes, it is. It has so many marvelous things… friendship, love, family… feelings. Those are precious," he whispered and Ginny's bottom lip trembled.

"Then, why does everything look so sad?" Neville's eyes only reflected that grief.

"Because nothing is perfect. But… it is beautiful, as much as they work to destroy it… life will persist."

Ginny lowered her eyes, drowned in frustrating emotions. She wished beauty was a synonym of perfection. That way, the baby girl would not have died.

"Do you think you're capable of embracing life?" She asked, although the question was more for herself than for him.

"Aren't I already?" Neville gave her a soft smile and intensified the strength of his embrace, while Ginny let herself be reanimated by those arms.

"And do you think you are capable to kiss life?" The Weasley girl focused her eyes on Neville's and smiled at him with hope vibrating in her heart.

"Aren't I already?" He whispered at the same time he leaned and touched her lips with his for the first time.

It was a soft and honest kiss, mirror of those dreams they were burying and the life they were embracing. Neville's hands caressed her cheeks and Ginny felt warmth fill her body again. He returned her spirit and the glow to her eyes.

He returned her strength to understand that the baby was gone, but she was still there. She could live in her place. She could still see the beauty of the world and dedicate it to her. She could still share love and create smiles on the faces of those she loved most… as small as the number was.

She could be the origin of new hopes, new lives, new worlds. And perhaps, one day, she could tell it all to that nameless girl when she visited her in that imaginary country, which she did not think unreachable any longer.

London did not seem so dark anymore.

---

Fortress of the Dark Order

November 22nd, 2004

Time: 5:15PM

It had been a few complicated weeks for Hermione, though she did not complain because they made her days feel like an adventure. She had missed it during the month under Filldeserp's tutelage and the month of 'recovery' with the Order… her heart understood the risks, especially because of his determination to become an auror, even if it did not help her among so much diplomacy.

She had attended two elemental meetings, which had recaptured her curiosity. They were a separate culture. Filldeserp had accommodated them on a big round table, as if they were King Arthur's knights. Later, after she asked the reason behind such organization, Filldeserp had explained it was mandatory between elementals. It spoke of equality; of the ability to express on their own and to whoever they wanted to, and not only to the host.

On one side had sat Filldeserp's allies, and in the other, those who they would eventually convince.

She had been surprised when she saw Alice, that despicable woman, on her left side. It did not take her long to discover her abilities as an elemental of water. At her right was Filldeserp, who was sitting next to a man with a sullen expression, though Hermione had learned to read behind those masks and she found a kind man who was extremely caring to his daughter, who was sitting next to him, swinging her legs back and forth and observing everyone with admiration.

It was an odd circle of four people, but with the exception of Alice, she was able to establish a friendly bond with the others. Sheila was an adorable girl, who reminded her of someone, though she was not sure of whom. Her excellent ability as an elemental, and her will to learn and use it were undoubtedly admirable, especially given her age.

Dymtrus, on the other hand, had observed her for great part of the meeting without exchanging words with her. And when his examination and the meeting came to an end, he had walked up to her and had said, with an honest and proud voice:

"Lord Filldeserp has made an excellent choice. Welcome, my Lady." He had bowed to her in the typical reverence shown among elementals.

Hermione had blushed, although she had been able to respond with the right gesture of mutual respect and then continued a conversation with the Ukrainian, from whom she learned several interesting facts.

With respect to the other elementals, the meetings had been long and tough. Most were adverse to an alliance because of Filldeserp. Fire was considered the most dangerous and volatile element, and elementals did not believe they needed a leader like that. Dymtrus had taken a strong stance when he assured them they were losing a great opportunity because of prejudice. He had explained his own hesitation in the beginning, but that with time turned into full security and confidence.

"Lord Filldeserp has granted me everything I have given him. It was not a return, but an exchange, guaranteed by equality, gratitude, and respect."

Filldeserp had explained they were originally from Africa, the only community of elementals which had accepted the invitation to the Congress. Their hesitation to complete any kind of union was understandable taking into account a history, which went back centuries, of deceit, betrayal, underestimation, and subjection. It was unprecedented that they had traveled to Europe to such conference, as they had sworn absolute neutrality during the first war against Voldemort. Nothing that had happened since then had given them evidence that they would not be treated like their ancestors; however, they were there of their own free will, listening to what Filldeserp had to offer, and demanding concessions when they considered any point unfair.

Most of them were vegetation and wind elementals. The oldest of them, the leader under their own traditions, was more than a hundred years old. It was incredible, as most powerful wizards in Africa barely reached an age beyond eighty. Nevertheless, he was a man completely lucid and intelligent, of an enigmatic expression, and of humble manners. If she were on a different world, Hermione would have wished to see an encounter between that man and Dumbledore. Both possessed wisdom beyond their years.

She glanced at Filldeserp, and a fact took life in her mind. Wisdom was not everything. Also necessary were strength, will, and above all, spirit, something that was lacking in those men as much as they tried to keep young inside.

However, the most controversial thing that month had been the emotional aspect of her life. Since that night she had shared with Filldeserp, she had gotten used to spend most of her time in his room. Every time she felt more comfortable, safer, in the arms of that man. There were nights when he showed himself more caring and they spent hours just kissing; and there were others when he just went straight to bed, barely saying a word. It was disconcerting; yet, Hermione had learned to love him in all of his moods.

He had an infinite patience for her, accepting the limits Hermione imposed on him. There were nights when the girl woke up and almost always found those emerald eyes watching her. She was concerned by Filldeserp's insomnia. She had tried to convince him to take potions to rest well, but he had rejected them arguing the possibility of addiction. As such, Hermione tried to stay awake some nights to engage in conversations with him. She knew the man was thankful for the company because it helped him push aside his ghosts.

Ghosts she did not know were haunting Filldeserp.

At no point did Hermione's assigned role ever come up, but there were moments when the tension between them showed that neither had forgotten it. She was thankful Filldeserp was not pressuring her. In fact, she doubted he would have made her take such position so soon in his life if it had not been because of the insistence of Lord Voldemort, who Hermione had rarely seen that month. The meetings of the elite, the conferences with possible allies, the plans for a major attack that Hermione knew was approaching… She had seen him at dinner, but he had left after informing Filldeserp he required his presence.

The young Gryffindor felt relieved of not being in his presence. There were times when she had lunch on her own, but Filldeserp was always with her for dinner, which provided them with an environment of privacy and freedom. They did not often talk throughout it, but Hermione did not think it was necessary.

However, as brilliant as it was being in the arms of her man, she knew that sooner or later the bubble would break and then, there would be no other option but to accept her part on that play. That was why she was making an effort so that time would not catch her by surprise, and that she could even choose it before she was forced.

She would hate being a mother only out of obligation. She wished to be a mother because of the love it symbolized, for the opportunity to share a life and guide it; not because a Dark Lord had ordered her. She wanted her son to be the fruit of something more than war, more than the desires of the Judges…

She wanted to tell that to Filldeserp, although she knew he was already familiar with her longing. She even imagined he shared it, that he still considered family sacred. In a certain way, she needed his promise that they would allow that child to grow up with normalcy; with as much normalcy as being the grandchild and son of the Dark Lords could offer.

"A Sickle for your thoughts, my Lady."

Hermione raised her sight from the book on her lap, which had been open on the same page for more than half an hour, to look at the person who had dared to interrupt her daze. Cailean Austen was standing next to her, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. To his side was a restless house elf, who seemed bothered by something, as if that situation had not been anticipated and he needed to be reprimanded.

"Austen," Hermione greeted him, abandoning her book on the armchair and standing up to be at the same level as the death eater. "What's going on?"

"Always to the point. Can't an old friend visit his partner? Although I should rephrase that… after all, you are my… superior," Cailean said, rolling his eyes as if he did not believe fate's cruelty.

"It's clear the Lord would not allow you to see me if you didn't have a good reason. As you know, these are my chambers and they are isolated from the world, I don't know if for my protection or the world's," Hermione answered with the same sarcastic tone.

"I wanted this meeting to be pleasant, but I see you stubbornly want to ruin my attempts. Lord Filldeserp has sent me to inform you, milady, that he will not be able to dine with you tonight, but that he will meet your person later," the death eater recited, exaggerating the words and observing the ceiling of the room, as if he did not care about protocol. He then stared at her and smiled with arrogance. "You have won against Alice, congratulations. The girl is smoking out of her ears, which is something worthy of seeing. We should all thank you."

"As if I cared about that harpy," Hermione muttered, sitting once more on the armchair. Without being invited, Cailean sat as well.

"But you do care. She is Lord Filldeserp's ex." The death eater smiled mysteriously and leaned in her direction. "Tell me, Hermione, how did you manage to seduce the imperturbable Filldeserp, who hates anything related to Dumbledore?"

"I doubt it interests you, Cailean," the young woman replied, focusing her eyes on a painting so he would not notice her blush.

"It is rumored all around the Fortress that you already carry the seed of our Lord inside of you," Austen said staring at her. Hermione was sure he had only said it to increase her blush.

"Cailean, please, leave. You've done your duty."

"You know, Hermione?" The death eater continued as if he had not heard her. To increase the dramatic effect, he lowered his voice. "Lord Filldeserp truly loves you. You only need to see how he reacts when your name is mentioned to notice it, how he is always looking for some free time to dedicate it to you…"

"And how can you know that? You're not so close to the Inner Circle to be so aware of your Lord's routine… much less of his feelings."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Hermione. Since I participated in your return, Lord Filldeserp has given me more attention. I'm sure that if I keep pleasing him, I'll be able to get into his circle…"

"His circle?" Cailean frowned, surprised by her ignorance.

"You didn't know Lord Filldeserp had his own following?"

"I thought that Voldemort and he shared…"

"No. They are two different leaders, though they share a mission. There are death eaters in Voldemort's circle who Filldeserp does not trust, and vice versa. Nevertheless, they try to keep united."

"I keep thinking you know too much about the inner affairs of the dark side." The death eater smiled with pride to her comment.

"That is why I am an Unspeakable." He stood up and made a mocking bow. "Milady, I'm sorry to have to put a stop to our lovely conversation, but I have a Lord to be loyal to." Without waiting for an answer, he walked to the door, which the elf took care of opening for him. "Ah, milady, I hope you'll reconsider your decision. The little steps of a child are necessary in the Fortress. We'll all look out for his safety… and he will be spoiled. In case you fear for his wellbeing or his heart, give his tutelage to the Lord's serpent. Nobody and nothing would dare to challenge her."

Hermione could only mentally agree with Cailean, as verbally admitting it would have caused her the distress of knowing she was willing to trust her child to a snake.

It would not be as weird as falling in love with a Dark Lord or being the Lady of her old enemies. But it was close enough.

---

Time: 11:30PM

The plans for the attack were working perfectly.

Soon Gringotts would be under the control of the Dark Order, and Dumbledore could do nothing to stop it. He could not offer them anything of value. He could not give the goblins the place Filldeserp had ready for them in that near future. He only needed to control the Ministry militarily and the magical and political power of England would be under his control.

The end of the war was near.

That day, he had been forced to accompany Count Phinehas to act as mediator with another vampire, with whom he had been enemies for years (centuries). Obviously, it had been a useless mission, and he almost said that to the Count, but he bit his tongue on time. It was probably another test to measure his diplomatic skills.

He clenched his fists. The count had not stopped bothering him since the beginning of the Congress. Most allies had left already, either to their homelands, or to a safer place. The vampire, however, had chosen to stay at the Fortress. His argument had been he required seeing both Lords in action during a process of organizing and stress, and he even wished to participate in the attack. Of course, Voldemort and his heir knew he had a different objective.

He had not recovered yet from his experience in the dungeons. During the night he was still suffering of insomnia, which did not benefit him at all during the day, and there were moments when an intense flow of emotions drowned him without a warning. Specially thirst. But he would not give in. The effects would soon fade. After all, days for a vampire could be months for a mortal, but he would resist.

He entered his chambers. The lights were off and there was no sign of life inside. He waved his hand and a flame allowed him to observe the room, in case Hermione had fallen asleep there waiting for him. That had not been the case. He could not help but feel slightly disappointed. The previous nights he had been late she had been sitting on the couch, reading some book about elementals. At her pace, Filldeserp had thought he would not have any more books to give her on the subject by the end of the month.

He walked to the door to the right, his room. The lights were off there as well. He turned them on, holding back a sigh. He took off his cape, placing it on a chair, and lay on the bed, guessing a night of insomnia and loneliness. If three months before anyone had even suggested he would miss the company instead of a feminine presence on his bed, he would have cast a cruciatus to that person and sent them to Saint Mungo's. If that same person had suggested that feminine presence was Hermione Granger, the Avada Kedavra would have finished the conversation. It was inconceivable.

And there he was, feeling empty.

"I thought you would wait for me before going to sleep," a voice whispered in his ear.

Filldeserp was startled and ready to attack when, after turning his head, he saw Hermione leaning on the bed and smiling sweetly at him. Had he been so distracted he had not noticed her?

She was beautiful in her simple and natural look. Her hair was slightly messy because of the duration of the day, but her eyes were alive, as if she had just woken up. She was wearing an elegant pink nightgown, which highlighted her skin tone.

"Am I asleep and seeing an angel?" He whispered with a smirk. She pressed her lips, pretending to still be upset with him. But her eyes were glowing.

"And if I am? What will you do to me?" She said playfully. Filldeserp surrounded her shoulders and forced her to lie on the bed, under him.

"I will take your purity, your eternal innocence," he answered as he leaned and kissed her. "Then God will say you succumbed to carnal desires and will take your immortality. And your innocence will not be eternal anymore."

"Won't you feel guilty from making an angel fall?" Hermione reprimanded him with a smile.

"No, because in my eyes you will always be an angel." He caressed her face and kissed her forehead, before letting himself fall next to her. He closed his eyes, observing the emptiness.

"Harry…" He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. The tone with which she had said his name was full of anxiety and worry.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" The young woman bit her lower lip before gathering her courage.

"Make me fall."

"What?" That lacked meaning. Unless…

"I want…"

"No, Hermione." Filldeserp sat up and his face acquired an expression of seriousness, with a hint of anger. "I will not allow you to do it only because you think it is your duty. It isn't."

"But I…!"

"No. I can tell when someone wants this, and when she thinks the other person wants it and that's why they are doing it." He looked at her in the eyes. "Elementals have the characteristic of not being able to copulate until they are completely ready. Powerful wizards also have that characteristic. That is why rape is so unusual for magical people…"

"But I really want to do this, Harry."

"Let us fix that: your body wants to, but your mind doesn't. You don't. I assure you that when you do…"

Hermione reacted quickly, holding his arms and kissing him with a passion Harry could not detect where it was coming from. She forced him to lean back on the bed while she descended from his lips to his neck, with her shy hands making a path across his chest.

Harry was about to repeat to Hermione that she should not force the situation when he felt one of his mental barriers break, caused by his element rebelling and by the effects of what Phinehas did manifesting again. Hermione took advantage of that moment of hesitation to repeat the kiss on his lips.

Except, this time the girl moved away with a moan, with her right hand on her bleeding lips. Harry observed her with sadness before extending his hand to touch the wound to heal it.

"I told you not to force it," Hermione watched him with an emotion that Filldeserp could not name.

"Kiss me."

"What? Hermione…"

"Do it!"

Harry sighed knowing that another session of pain and blood awaited Hermione. However, the girl was stubborn. If he did not kiss her, she would, and that would be worse.

This time the kiss was long and intense. Hermione was holding him tight and Harry knew she was channeling her pain on that pressure. He could taste her blood on his lips at the same time he cast magic on them. Blood. Phinehas beat hard inside of his body, but Harry held back the thirst, convincing himself it was something he did not need. Because he was still a mortal. Suddenly, Hermione's element took life. For a moment, Filldeserp feared that what happened with Alice would happen and that the element would forbid him from touching its carrier, besides attacking him. But that was not the case. The element surrounded him and welcomed him like in previous occasions, and he offered it his fire.

When they separated, Hermione was smiling.

"Now you can make me fall."

"Why are you so…?"

"Anxious? Because I want to feel your love… because I want us to share this destiny." Her soft smile grew wider. "Because I know you'll take care of our child as much as you've taken care of me. Because this is something I want."

Harry remained a few seconds watching her, his face not showing any expression. He then stood up and walked to the small bar at one corner of the room. Hermione felt scared, thinking that meant his rejection. She stood up and walked toward him. He was mixing the contents of some glasses carefully, whispering some words in deep concentration.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Harry asked looking at her in the eyes again. "Once we go through this night, there is no turning back." Hermione took his hands and smiled.

"In your eyes I can see the future. And it is a future with me there. I don't care if god vanishes me… if he didn't, I would do it myself," the Gryffindor said laughing. Harry smiled and gave her a glass with white contents.

"This is a potion that will endure your fertility for the next fifty hours."

"You can alter like that the reproductive system?" She questioned skeptical. "Either way, I checked the date."

"We are wizards. We can alter whatever we want… except death," the Dark Lord challenged her mockingly, while he also drank from his own glass…

"And what is yours for?"

"The survival of the reproductive cells for longer than fifty hours."

"You had it all planned," Hermione muttered placing her empty glass on the surface of the small bar.

"I had it all prepared for the moment you would be ready. I would have waited as long as necessary," he whispered while he played with her brown hair. He kissed her again on the lips and both elements reacted positively to the touch. "Are you sure?"

Hermione made sure to preserve that image in her mind for the rest of her life. Harry's eyes glowed with that emerald green she loved and which was dedicated to her. All fear was left behind, forgotten in that bleeding kiss from minutes before.

Those emeralds would be hers forever.

Slowly, between caresses and kisses, they returned to the bed. In Harry's eyes the same question was constantly asked, but at every instance Hermione smiled at him and accepted him.

For long minutes, there were only kisses and innocent touching. It was Hermione who took the first step when she began unbuttoning the black shirt of her Dark Lord. They had reached that point several times before and the young woman was no longer intimidated by Filldeserp's body. She had touched that skin, but this time she did it thoroughly, finding weak spots. She reached her objective and was only able to recognize it because at that moment he man coughed, repressing a laugh caused by the tickling.

It was on his abdomen.

"I thought this would be a fruitless search," Hermione whispered. "That you truly were that strong man, without weaknesses."

Filldeserp raised his eyebrows, smiling provocatively.

"There must always be a weakness. Otherwise I could not call myself strong." And with a sudden push, he changed their positions placing Hermione under him again. "Let's see if angels also are ticklish…"

Even if she had grown used to the touch of Filldeserp's skin, it was still uncomfortable to be undressed in front of him. It made her feel, in a certain way, helpless. An easy prey. Those eyes devoured her without mercy, but with adoration.

Harry's lips descended from her mouth to her neck, and from there they moved to her chest, where her clothes were the only thing in his in way. She laughed from the nervousness and also because of the light tickling. He caressed her face for the nth time, looking at her in the eyes to instill security and love.

"If you don't want…"

"I appreciate you giving me so many opportunities, Harry, but I won't change my mind." She took a deep breath. "Simply… never…"

"Alright."

"I am slightly scared… not of the situation… but…" She sighed, fearing that her words would cool the atmosphere. "You've had so many women. I fear… I won't be anything in comparison to them." Harry's eyes were still watching her, as if he had not heard her words. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to…"

"Those women were nothing, Hermione. You are my fiancée, my future wife, the future mother of my child… you are the one I want by my side. You are the one I…" He took a deep breath, feeling as if he needed to rip the words out of his vocal chords. "Love. Just… let me feel. Release your element, if you want." His eyes seemed lost for a moment in a darkness that Hermione could not reach. "The fact that you are giving yourself to this monster already says a lot about your heart…"

"You are not a monster. I… learned to see you."

"Or to be blind," Harry corrected her with bitterness.

"If you truly were a monster, I'm sure you would have found a way, magical or not, to force me to do this. You would not have waited for me. You would not let your barriers be broken in my presence… You would still be that cold man that I found again in Diagon Alley, who could care less about the humiliation of a man, much less a woman."

"The fact that I am not a monster to you does not mean I am not a monster," he countered with a sad laugh.

"Then, let my angelic innocence rule so you are not that monster anymore…" She kissed him softly on the lips. "Release your element too."

"Herm…"

"It destroys lives just like it can create them, doesn't it? And I want our child to be born from fire and wind…"

Harry placed his hands on her shoulder, to then slide them down her arms.

"Do it. This time, I am not afraid."

Those hands went to her back, where they untied her garments. Hermione felt herself blushing to the examination and jumped when those same hands touched her breasts. Harry chuckled and kissed her on the lips as he continued to caress her, helping her get used to the touch.

His hand, much warmer than just a moment before, touched her stomach and the young woman could not help but laugh out loud. She was sure it was because she was too nervous. She could not be that sensitive.

"I see you're not immune to tickles…"

"There is a reason why we can be brought down by our carnal desires, don't you think?" Hermione smiled. "And it's not fair you're suddenly using your element… I felt it burn…"

"Shh. It's symbolic. The fire of hell, of the devil, has found you." Both shared a giggle.

Hermione was not willing to only be the object of Filldeserp's attacks. With another giggle, she guided her element and pushed Harry against the bed, being in power again.

However, when she realized what the next step would be, she lost some of her courage. Harry remained lying down, with a smile that was clearly holding back a laugh. She must have looked like a tomato.

"Do you want me to do it?" He asked in an odd gesture of compassion.

"No. Just… help me, would you?"

She used the next minutes to remove Harry of his pants. It was not an easy task when the Dark Lord enjoyed complicating the situation, not cooperating in the least. In the end, he had mercy on her soul and he finished removing his clothes, only leaving his underwear on.

"I had never laughed so much…" Harry whispered placing the clothes on the side of the bed.

Hermione was able to read the subtext: 'while having sex.'

"My turn," the young man said and Hermione nodded with a blush.

Before continuing, Harry spent several minutes trying to calm her down, returning to his exploration with all those tempting kisses. Both had released their elements and those wonderful colors and sensations were dancing in front of them. Hermione was able to understand why most people looked for sexual fulfillment. It was, without a doubt, indescribable.

It was absolute surrender. There was nothing more than the two of them, nothing beyond that moment. Hermione let him guide her and learned the subtleties of that role, paying Harry back for his mischief. She could not believe how caring he was throughout all that preparation. She doubted he had ever been that way with someone else. It was against his public face as Dark Lord.

And, despite it all… he was sharing it with her.

When she was finally lying naked on the bed, with Harry on a similar state above her, the decision had been made. She was lost in that emerald sea; in that world of illusions and feelings, so tangible that they transformed into one solid reality… she felt happy and she did not regret choosing that man; much less of accepting her part in that play.

She was a participant and a willing protagonist. The time had come and it had not taken her by surprise, but waiting for it, with a sword on her hand. Another chain of doubts would assault her later. Other pains, other sorrows… other lost hopes. But at the moment of losing her innocence, everything seemed insubstantial. Only they existed, the only reality she would never doubt. In that fine line that divided pain from pleasure, she knew there was love. She knew that every human being deserved to be loved and to love in the same way; otherwise, no human could have survived.

In the instant of union and culmination, deep inside of her, in what she would call the veins of her magic, she could feel the joining of their two elements, in a state of full bonding, and the exchange of emotions moved every fiber of her body.

Nothing would separate her from that man. Not even magic. Not even death.

Never had she ever felt so… perfect. So complete. So herself. So themselves.

He kissed her deeply and she gave him all her breath, all her essence. He took her left hand and kissed the engagement ring resting there, as an eternal promise. She belonged to him, and he to her.

"God has forgiven you. You are still an angel. But you are now my angel," Harry whispered, almost like a murmur. "No demon has made you fall."

Those emerald eyes never stopped glowing as he held her and made her eternal in his memories.