BTEA: WANTED!

Chapter 7: Psychological Terror

Gasping and heavily breathing Hermione reached the hospital-exit to get out-of-doors finally. Always looking behind her, if nobody followed her… if HE did not follow her. It took her three tries to get really out of the hospital. Two times she head to return as she tried was rushing out, because she firstly still had the hospital-wand in her hands and secondly, still wore the nurse-clock. But now she finally made it und to achieve the fresh open air there she could breathe deeply while the doors slammed behind her.

Cold, fresh air flowed threw her lunges, every breath she took made her sanity come clearer, smoothed the way for the up sliding fear that crawled inside her brain and whispered to her, terribly cold ad frightening was this voice, that the really bad part of her life had right now begun.

By now, St.Mungo´s looked like an old warehouse again. Now she saw it, as the muggles saw it…who did not know what was kept away behind these ruinous doors.

xXx

When Hermione came home, she was not able to do something else than crying and sleeping. How much she missed her friends right now, no matter what they've said or done... how gruesome it was, not to be allowed to tell about her job. Although she stayed in bed from 18h till 8h the next morning, she had never felt so drained in her whole life. Never wanted to do something as less as going into this hospital again, than crossing this floors, walking down this stairs…to him.

When the aurors saw her walking down the corridor, they smirked. "You´d been so fast yesterday. Didn't you enjoy your work? "asked the first one, who stood on the right side of the door her, and smiled to the man beside him, who continued „Well, we could help you to enjoy your time here… all you have to do is to say a word an we could go to…distract you. Come on…it's so lonely here." His head nodded into the stockrooms direction. These aurors were young, in their twenties and they were bored because nothing dangerous happened… so they killed time by excogitating and saying salacious remarks to Hermione.

Pale as Hermione was, they thought she was just a bashful wallflower and they burst out laughing than they accessorily noticed how tremulous she was. Hermione stared straight ahead, as she passed toe door and entered the room, swallowed as the sneering room behind her died away because the door was closed…

Somehow she had the faintly hope that the last episode of her job yesterday was ascribable to a schizophrenic shove, but this hope died as the last bang of the slamming door faded away and another noise, cold, cruel and contemptuous echoed from the walls.

"You again." The man who spoke, one moment before he had stared out of the window but now turned his head to her, was a indubitable awake." It seems they send you every day. I suppose this shall be a part of my punishment. Isn't it?"

Lord Voldemort consented to have a closer look at her, until his imperious glance bored itself into her eyes. A glance that made her shrinking from second to second, until she was as little as a mouse. She was not just as small as a mouse, she even sounded as a mouse when she squeaked a question. "Since when you are…awake again? I thought you wouldn't notice anything."

"You only have to talk, when you're asked something, mudblood." ordered the Lords masterful voice. She doesn't seemed to bet interesting to him any longer, so he looked anew out of the window, as he continued in a now lackadaisical tone. "Why should I have messed around with you?" clarified the thin man, who yesterday still appeared to be helpless. Hermione discerned, that the expression of malice in his face vanished a short moment for confusion. "I believe…for two days now. I remember to have seen you the day before yesterday. " Voldemort grimaced exerted for a few seconds, but when he commanded as clear and cold his voice has ever sounded. "Well, enough about that. Have you brought along the newspaper, mudblood?"

And because mice are smaller, more defenceless and harmless as snakes, Hermione couldn't help pulling the newspaper out of her clock compliantly, and sitting beside him… a bit further away as usual.

Actually she should wash him now, do gymnastic exercises with him and afterwards she would have had to feed him, but... impossible. Hermione was no match for so much arrogance, self-esteem and dominance.

As if she had no own will at all, as if she was put under the imperious-curse, she had to follow his barked orders unresisting.

So she said down und started the read, while she tried to fill some mineralwater in him at the same time.

Apart from the reading, she was not allowed to open her mouth. Well, so she did what she was allowed to, but her hands trembled that much, so she almost spilled the whole mineralewater above him. The way he called her mudblood, called her dumb and useless after this was spoken with so much hatred in the voice she nether had heard it before. Not really something to appease her again…

But he was angry anyway. As he heard about Lucius, he spitted one contemptibly „Lucius"or „pah´s" after another out. The way he spoke the name of his ex-follower appeared to her, as if he would regard Mr. Malfoy as a contagious disease. He commented the ensuing article about Harry Potter with a look that let assume that a pride of cockroaches had just crawled across his face.

„Your friends, stupid children who let themselves celebrate for something they had never done. "he laughed bitterly and told her his opinion on Harrys behaviour and doings during the Hogwarts-Battle.

„Weakly, maudlinly and predictable. That´s Harry Potter. And you" he allowed here to have a look at his hatred-distorted face "you are even lesser. You are nothing but dirt, mudblood, because you followed him. Now, give me something to drink, I'm thirsty. Hopefully you are useful for this at least," he commanded.

Hermione wanted to protest, wanted to answer back or to tell him, she was the only reason why he was still alive… but…no words came out of her mouth. Therefore, she kept quiet while she stated to feel sick as she thought on the other things she had to do for him later on.

But Voldemort had also other interests. After he told her she was too dumb to do even simply care handholds (he permitted her to wash him) and Hermione stopped for a while because she was exhausted and frozen in fear, he asked her a question that must have been a heavy burden to him. "Am I in a hospital or in a prison? This is not Azkaban…"

Hermione grasped the flannel back that lay in the washbowl on the trolley and went on soaping his chest. Didn´t dare to glance at his inhuman eyes. "It´s St. Mungo´s. You were too weak for Azkaban. "

A high, cold laugh made her feel like a little child in a dark cellar. "Well, therefore they sent you to care for me. YOU? A mudblood? The new minister must feel strongly about abasing me." Hermione shrugged, bit in her underlip and tried to think of her parents, as she had to swaddle him. And the whole time he gazed at her if he had wished to have a fly swatter to kill the incommodiously insect.

Hermione was a clever, faithful and kind-hearted, but the last rest of her Gryffindor-courage was washed away by the moment she first heard him talking in the sickroom. She just did not know how to fight against a man she actually had to protect. But the trace of sympathy she felt in the last few days was sunken in a moor of nauseation, fear and hatred.

Still she had to keep him alive, more than this…this was paradox. Two mutually excluding tasks, which robbed her all so far learned action strategies.

It was terrible to be treated like this, but an aura of might and pride emanated from Voldemort and poor Hermione had nothing to subtend against this.

The job took her three hours today, more hours more than yesterday…because she was so nervous, fearful. Nether knowing if she should run away, ignore his hateful takings or if she really was as clumsy as he told her all these hours.

Her wand fell down to earth when she tried to give the opening-signal to the door. Voldemort saw it laughed at her. Yes, HE really execrated her. Hermione swallowed, took her wand and said so muted he might hadn't heard it, that she would come back tomorrow at 10h.

Before her working day, she had been up to go to the swimming bath in the afternoon, but by now all she could do was to go to bed and fear the next day. With him.

As the week went by, she developed a panicky fear above all what had remembered her to her job. One time she brook out in hysterical tears, as she saw a picture of a zoo-snake on a placard.

Not that she had expected him to treat her in another way. Nevertheless, solely because his behaviour was in line with his world-view, it became more bearable to her in no way.

Where was the Gryffindor-courage, as she needed it at the most? Why she put up with everything? It was his limitless self-assurance and superiority. This was not the blonde Draco Malfoy, who parroted insults he'd learned by rote. The dark lord did not insult her. Not in his eyes…

He told her truths about mudbloods in general and herself in particular. He was better as every Dementor in spreading fear. All the stories which there told about him, all the wild rumours about his skills and powers…and he deeply enjoyed her fright.

It was a shock. He had been an omnipresent danger for years. A danger only a man like Dumbledore was capable to fight against. But Dumbledore was dead…dead because the dark lord ordered it.

Hermione felt ashamed for her weakness. Felt ashamed for becoming his will-less slave. In addition, she was so lonely, despaired and overstrained with the situation.

It was awful enough that she was untrained but still had to take care for a critically ill man. Nevertheless, definitely she would have managed to do so. However, why this ill man had to be exactly the slaughterman they (Harry, Ron and she) had been trying to kill in the last year? This was to bizarre to unterstand it.

Still he appeared dangerous and evil…but, what she was bound to do now?

In former times, this question was easy to answer. Voldemort was evil and so they there obliged to destroy him. But now she had to take care for him, still he was weak, thin and infirm.

Even though she had a wand and he not, she felt unprotected. And he, the exceptionally gifted Legilimens was an expert in frightening people. Moreover, he was an expert to make them feel smaller as every mouse, running away from a cat. She´d needed her friends, needed some around her by her side, needed a sorrow dust bin to throw all her self-doubts in it.

However, Lord Voldemorts was the only one around her who talked to her every day…and every day he told her how useless, stupid and repulsive she, the mudblood, was. If there had been only one person (except from Helen, but she did not see her all too often often) around her who told her that he wasn't right… Therefore, he denominated the new situation. He, the Lord. And Hermione, his servant.

When she was with him, his dismissive gazes at her nearly torn her apart. When she was free, her thought her still captured in this cold, dreary and frightening dungeon. Maybe it would help then she did her very best, read even more books to learn. Maybe he would stop to call her incapable and sordid. Bit this day never came. And so Hermione was nothing more than a lifeless hull, moved to nod by his will and his power over her.

Every day she brought along the newspaper and read it to him. Every day she followed all of the orders he threw to her so bitterly, as if she was the lowest creature on earth. Once more Hermione thought about how bitter life had to be for house elfes, she even felt sympathy for the Wormtail… However, even house-efles were better treated, as she was treated from him. That she still had to wash, feed or swaddle him, retracted his pride not in a slightest.

Never was he content with what she did. Always she kept in her mind what he might was able to do to her…if she would not do what he told her. Gryffindor-Courage…blown away. Yes, she really had become wormtail.

Nether gainsaid him, nether said something at all…because he did not allow her to speak. He was terribly amused then he called her wiseacres who had no decency to feel ashamed for her mudbloodness. In his opinion, she was a shame since she was born and she should accept she was no real which and would be better off with the other muggles…the other working animals.

His anew failure against Harry Potter was because of his own inobservance. After all, he discerned this rightly. Bit this proofed again, that this foolish, little students were utterly unworthy of his attention… apart from his plan to kill them.

Well, this day was like all the days before and he only allowed her to her his voice because he gave free rain to his scornfulness. Hermione…washed him. This was even more unpleasant than before because the bedsore had become more, were bleeding and a bad smell irrupted her nose. Regrettably, she was really to blame for this. Since he was awake, she almost did not dare to touch him. Especially not in the pubic area. But now he was bleeding and she had to put some of the wound-paste on him.

The water was really dirty today…muddy from excrements and dried blood. She just was up to bring new water as he snapped at her angrily. "Look what you have done mudblood. I'm bleeding. Don't you recognize bedsores when they are directly before your eyes? Do you know what pains I have to suffer? Do I have to prompt you everything?

Fulfilled wit shame, Hermione shook her head, "No, I'm sorry. I'm going to get the salves for you."

Voldemort shook his head disgusted. "Mudbloods. No matter if some people say you are as intelligent as we are, all I have to do is to look at you and I know how afar this is from the truth. Even though your parents are muggle-healers themselves, aren't they? Nevertheless, you learned nothing at all. Well, probably it's not your fault, what could you have learned from such bad examples?" his voice was cold, harsh and merciless.

She had often tried to ignore such insults, but this time she could help herself to ask him. "How do you know my patents are doctors?" an abysmally evil smile spread out on his skull-like face. "Did you really believe that your ridiculous little games from the last year could mislead us? You are probably aware with this address. Melbourne, St. Michaels Street, 14? I guess you´ve heard it before… Me too. Did you know my death-eaters watched your parents? If the battle had been a few days later, you're filthy muggle-parents could have been waiting for you on the other side."

Hermione stopped from breathing, unable to breathe, to move, to feel or the think. But only a short moment. He knew her parents address? Planed to kill them, although she manipulated their memory and sent them away to another continent? After she broke the contact to them. And now, this murderer sat in front of her and revealed to her that he and the death-eaters had known this all of the time? Planned to kill them, just because it was fun to shock Harry and his friends, because Lord Voldemort knew Harry could not square it with his conscience to know, innocent people were died for him.

Hermione Granger was a good, friendly and diplomatic young woman. She acquiesced in to much. Was sometimes to fair and friendly, let herself short-change. But Voldemort

exceeded this limit of what Hermione was able to take when he mentioned her parents address in Australia.

She´d never known how loud she was able to scream. A shout, no words…first she found no words. Everything she was able to do was to roar as loud as if ten dragons together might have been screaming.

Hermione grabbed to dirty flannel and beat it into his face sloshy . All the pent-up anger and hate burst out of her like blazing-hot lava during the volcanic eruption.

Ever and ever again, she battered his face. It was…liberating. A storming feeling imparted her so far unknown powers. She took the washbowl and upended the stinking broth about him.

But, well…sometime, the words found came back and found their way from her mind to her mouth.

"WHO IST FILTHY NOW? YOU UNGRATEFUL, DISGUSTING PIG!" she yelled at him and spit on his face. She jumped up from the place he had assigned to her. Slapped all things on the trolley and marched straight ahead to the door. However, she was not finished. Not, as she saw him still grinning as dismissive as before. Gerade setzte er an, um wieder eine Beleidigung gegen sie loszuschleudern, da brach Hermines Wut endgültig wie glühende Lava aus einem Vulkan heraus. Now was the time to teach him some lessons, to tell him some truths about HIS situation.

"YOU KNOW WHAT? DO YOU KNOW WHAT IS STANDING BEHIND THIS DOOR AND WAITING FOR YOU? A COFFIN. THE FIRST THING THEY DID AFTER THE BATTLE WAS TO SIZE HOW TALL YOU ARE TO MAKE SURE THAT YOU SLOT INTO THE COFFIN!

THE ONLY REASION WHY YOU ARE STILL ALIVE IS MY LOUSY NURSING FOR YOU! NO ONE IN THIS WHOLE HOSPITAL WOULD NOTICE IT FOR WEEKS IF YOU WOULD DIE! AND YOU WILL DIE! I CAN HARDLY WAIT FOR YOUR EXECUSION!

AND THE ONLY REASION WHY I TAKE THIS IS BECAUSE I WANT TO GIVE YOUR VICTIMS THE CHANCE TO LAUGHE ABOUT YOU AND TO SPIT ON YOU DURING YOUR TRIAL!

YOUR LYING ON THE SHAMBLES; MAN! THE DAY OF YOUR DEATH IS FIXED! THE ONLIEST WAY YOU ARE STILL ALLOWED TO WAK ON YOUT OWN IS WHEN YOU'RE ASCENDING THE SCAFOLLD!"

The door opened and Hermione, the volcano, burst out of the chamber. The last thing she saw before the door banged behind her was that the malice in Voldemorts face was given away to unlimited horror. How she enjoyed this sight. Storming…definitely. Well, of course no coffin stood around in this corridor. However, the dramatic of her monologue demanded it. Anyway, it was right that they sized him to see if the coffin was big enough…

The lump in her throat, the fear in her heart and the anger in her fervid blood… all these afflictions were gone. Well, except from the anger, but she felt better now. So good, she sang a little song as she left the hospital. Her throat was free now. She would never lump it again. This was finally over.

And the day became even better. First, she went to all libraries she had been to get rid off the care backs she had lent. She had enough more important books to read for the next school year. So why she should waste only a second on this monsters problems? In addition, there were so many other interesting books, useful books…which had nothing do to with medical or psychological questions. Hermione looked forward to read them tonight as she jumped the stairs to her room in the Leaky Cauldron. And then…

RON! Ron sat with a half-empty bottle of butterbeer in his hands in front of her door and waited for her return. The cheerful screaming girl dumped all the books in her hands and stared at him.

Ron smiled a bit abashed, ruffled his red her and looked downwards to his toes. "Where have you been? I'm waiting here for hours…".

Hermione was still numb, she wanted to jump into his arms… but he was about to say something and she really wanted to hear this. "I know looks as if I overdid it." He scratched himself ashamed on his ear as she dared to at glance at her. How cute he was, as he stood there and searched for an apology. "Well you know, I'm… ".

He did not come any further because now Hermione ran to him and embosomed him. "Oh Ron…" was all she said before she overwhelmed him with kisses. Butt his time Ron appeared to be honest to her, wanted her to hear the end of his apology indeed, while he seemed to glow from his shock of hair to his toes as red as hazard warning lights.

"Well… in such things you're always right and so I admit my defeat. And you…you shall know that I trust in your sentence on this…man. You surly know what you do…"

This was just too splendiferous. She couldn't help herself from hugging and snuggled him until he couldn't burke an "OUCH!"

Ron smiled at her and petted her brown curls, but then a shadow scurried over his eyes. "But this is not easy for me. You can do whatever you want. I trust in you. But I don't want to know anything about your job. Just don't tell me…then is everything all right to me, okay?" Sure this was okay to her… everything was fine now. Well, almost everything.

Ron was the whole afternoon with her. They went holding hands in the zoo, ate an indecent big ice at Florean Fortescue´s Ice Cream Parlour and in the evening they visited Harry, who now actually moved into the house at the grimmauldplace. Kreacher was with him and he cosseted the three reunited friends with a four-course meal.

Apparently, Ron hat forewarned Harry, because his mentioned the clash with not one single word. The boys seemed to be relieved because they believed that Hermione had surmounted her Voldemort-fad. She just did her work with some nameless death-eater.

Ron even abided with her for the whole night and slept there…with her. Sure, he told Mrs. Weasley he would with Harry for the night. (Mr. Weasley, so she thought, knew the truth…but Mr. Weasley hadn't targeted to rear to most unisexual children on the planet).

How wonderful it was to lie in his arms. After they slept together, they hugged, fondled and kissed each other. Hermione had missed this so much, missed him, missed friendly words… and then, they slept together anew. All was well…

But Ron had to go on the next morning and she was alone again. Well, only a few days…until he would manage it to escape from his mother again.

But she was lucky, so lucky she was self-assured enough to ignore the things she actually had to do between 10h and 16h. Lucky und relieved…so she preferred to meet Luna and Ginny in the Diagon Alley and to discuss the new situation in the school, in the country and the process against the Malfoys with them. Too bad, Claris was ill. The poor dragon might had swallowed too much of her own poison …and reported herself sick for the rest of the week.

Hermione was not only happy about because she now had to deliver and receive her own and the hospital-wand from somebody else, not…this also meant she had to deliver her report not before the next Monday. Therefore, she decided not to go to him.

Who would notice it? Nobody…nobody at all. They would all think that she came/left during the other shift resided. No one, except from her, would look after him. Moreover, she did not feel like looking after him. He could use this time to lay think about his infamous actions. Right.

Whereas a little, quiet voice in her head asked her, if she shouldn't go to him all the same. Her conscientiousness was not easy to ignore… but still…it was easier to ignore her bad conscience then sustaining this evil creature again.

Moreover, Hermione was the best student in her age-group in Hogwarts, one of the best students for years. Read nearly every book the Hogwarts-library could offer. She was the favourite Student off all teachers (well, probably expect from Snape )… Admittedly she couldn't keep up with a wizard like Lord Voldemort, but even a deaf-mute-blind Man should notice that she was a gifted witch. How could he dare to call her dumb and incapably though it was so obvious she was so much better than all the other people in her age?

To ridicule her this much did not just appeal to her honour, it was simply dumb. That he threatened her parents in addition was unimproved too.

xXx

In the afternoon Hermione set about to write her report for Claris. She was still dealing with her bad conscious and so she sat down to write about her afternoon with him. Although she did not feel like doing this. Although she did not feel like admitting, she had helped him more than she should. However, no matter, that was over now. By now, she could acknowledge everything what she had done for him….because she never would do something like this again. And if they would fire her? Fine… so much the better.

Foaming and burning with anger, she drowned her pinfeather in the inkblood-pot to write cruel death-threats on the parchment…at least this was what she felt about it. No, in fact she stuck was much to the facts as she was still able to do. But as she went on writing on thinking of him, the anger inside her made her gestures as agitated and uncontrolled , so that she looked as if she was trying to stab him with the pinfeather.

Sometime she rammed the feather so hard on the parchment that it ripped. Oh no…now she had to start over again. The anger burned hot and hotter in her, as she had to stand up to get herself another parchment. Why did she bother with this cretinism? In fact, she really wished that Claris would dismiss her. Yes of course, she would miss the money…but, stuff it. She could stay with her parents till the school-start, or with the Weasleys (even though it was no pleasure to think of four whole months with her "mother-in-law"). No one needed this job… But even Mrs Weasley during her washday could not be worse than one further minute with this man.

Writing everything again…because of him. Quarrel with her friends…because of him, nearly a break up with Ron…because of him. A mad massmurderer who wasn't worth to kiss her feet.

Her breathed intermitted, she almost snarled, as she perused the destructed parchment. The expression of his as she left… PAH! She wouldn't fell for him again.

Without a defined intention, her view fell to the last line she'd wrote for Claris. "Appeared to be appalled, as he was adverted to his execution."

Hermione turned pale, the pinfeather in her hand trembled and she felt sick. Voldemort fell in a coma when the curse caught him, when he woke up he still did not get was happening around, because he paused in a state of shock…how much did he now?

Almost nothing!

This was why he wanted to get a newspaper. No one talked to him. He knew nothing about the denouement of the battle, did not know what happened to the rest of his death-eaters, about the Malfoys…about his foes, did not now who the new minister was…he knew nothing as he woke up.

And he definitely did not know what would happen to him now.

And no one deemed it necessary to tell him about his forthcoming execution.

But was did he believe what they would do with him? That they would put him in a secrete prison like Grindelwald? He could not have believed this in all seriousness. Yes, of course! He believed this because he wanted to believe it… He, who feared the death more than any other person she knew, probably fooled himself with this appeasing lie. Because otherwise he would, crack up… or he would fell back in the stupor perhaps.

And she told him about an inexistent coffin behind his door, that his time was over and teased him with hi ending life.

Not she what she felt sorry for him or for his death…nevertheless…

Hermione Granger was a clever, nice girl. Always trying to be kind and to deal fairly, it was no fun to her to tease other people with their worst existential fears. But yesterday she did…made fun of the death of another person and enjoyed it, made him eat it…

Up to now, Hermione never had been cruel, but yesterday she was…she'd been abysmally cruel.

A decent fellow had broken this gently to him. But was he not the same? Wasn't it right to pay him eye for an eye back? Such things stood handbooks about senseless wars. If she would win this morally battle, then in another way.

Deeply saddened she dove the pinfeather in the inkpot and decided once more to reflect the occurrences of the last day filtered and sugar-coated. This time, because she felt ashamed of herself.

Reviews?