Lap84: Thanx…I think the real storyplot starts with this chapter…
Bellatrix: Wait… Voldemort was too weak and too hungry to do much… but he gets healthy again and I think… the real story starts with this chapter
(sorry, spelling update)
Chapter 9: Aboulic
He stopped calling her Mudblood, but gratefulness was something else.
Hermione had been awake the entire night. All night long, she rolled in her bed and counted seconds, minutes and hours that crept unendingly slow over her. Endless hours long she stared from her ceiling to the walls, from the walls to the floor and from the floor back to the ceiling again. Unable to think of something else than her sorrows about the man she planned to kill a few weeks ago.
It was the first time of her life she found no answers in her books, in what Dumbledore of other teachers told her and that made her confused. More than confused. Helpless, lonely and disquietingly she asked herself where this way would bring her.
It was nothing new for her to fight in her own but there was always someone around her she trusted in…but now, it became all so complicated.
According to her long night, she rather scuffled than walked, crooked, slouchy and with a hanging head through the entrance hall of St.Mungo´s. The world around her appeared dimmed and colourless. Everything what happened around her, temperatures, smells, noises, colours and the unimportant, dummy conversations of visitors, nurses and healers disappeared behind a foggy curtain that cut her perception from the rest of the world off. Like a sleepwalker she noticed nothing around her, was only aware of her feet which appeared from time to time on the floor…yes, maybe she wasn't really walking, maybe she was floating…but why had her body to be so heavy and suppressive, if she was floating? Her hand was holding a Coffee mug. When did she buy it? She could not remember. Not so bad, she decided to warm it later on.
The first thing she awoke to was the enormous number of observant looking people which sneaked unmistakeable in fraught watchfulness through the hospital. They send nervous views to other nervous looking persons, whispered unknowable stuff and winced everytime someone around sneezed or caught…
They seemed to observe every ashtray, every cauldron, every ampoule and lurked behind nearly every dustbin and under every flambeau Hermione passed by. Still she was too tired to be surprised by all those patrolling people (and Hermione was, tired or not, pretty sure they were Aurors).
Anyhow, she did not move her body, her body moved her and took her across floors, corridors and doors she did not notice until she arrived downstairs and opened the door of the forensic ward. Not two but four Aurors watched Voldemorts door today. He tall red-haired man (a further member of the big Weasley-Clan she did not know?) took her aside and tried to make the seriousness of the situation plain to her, impressively. "Nurse Claris has informed the Auror-Office, yesterday. Now that he is awake, again we have to tighten the precautions. So listen to me Miss Granger. You must NEVER talk to him and NEVER look into his eyes. He will try to manipulate you, don't let it happen."
A strong, cold iron hand, like the hand that strangled Wormtail, enclosed her throat and boosted the pressure with every single word this young man said to her.
Isn´t it encouraging? She thought to herself, bitterly and full of irony. Outside are standing legions and inside I have to be alone with him. Why nobody struck to the idea that it could be useful to put some Aurors in his room too? Why no one wasted a serious thought on her security. Don't talk to him; don't look at him… great. Easier said as done.
However, today she was not alone with him. Six persons stood around his bed as she entered the room. She'd seen two of them before in the hospital…healers. She knew that an older man worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so the three other persons had to be Aurors, she guessed. All the assembled persons held notepads in their hands, nodded from time to time, mumbled something and scribbled something an the pads hectically, what Hermione could not see.
They seemed to be very excited. Attentively they listened all to what a clear, cold voice told them.
She saw the owner of this voice, between those people's backs. His bed was uplifted again, so that he sat upright and could have seen their faces. However, she was sure he didn't because they kept on avoiding looking in his direction. Instead of looking to him, they looked on their pats, his feet, and the walls or on the floor. The movements of their hands were hectically because it seemed to be difficult to them to hold the feather, write something and then put it away to take back the wand as fast as possible… too obviously that they´d been too afraid of him to risk it being without their weapon for more than five seconds. One of the Aurors, he was young and appeared to be new, was particularly anxious. He tried to hold both, feather and wand in one hand, the notepad in his other hand…but that didn't work. The feather fell down, he whimpered with fear as he noticed the severe gaze he got from an older man beside him, and got on his knees, crept across the floor to search the downfallen things. He looked up, as he crept into her direction and discovered her feet. "Please wait outside, Miss Granger. " He whispered to her as he rose up again, the missing things found and in his hands.
Hermione nodded and turned around. The way this young man moved, so clumsy and his agitated gestures…it remained her of Tonks…Tonks…one more Person she never would see again. But that was an unhealthy thought; she whipped it away in a dark corner of her mind and got out again. Why were those people with him? Could it really be, that Claris listened to her and send someone to look after him, because he'd been in such a critical state yesterday?
A few minutes later came two witches and four wizards, all of them looking churned up, out of the room, signified to her that she was allowed to go back to him because they were finished, and walked away while there kept on debating hectically. And left her alone with him…the lurking shadow…
The white serpent lurked, well…lay, still with uprighted upper body in the bed and if Hermione wasn't wrong, he awaited for her.
Smiling, shy she walked into the room, pushing the trolley in front of her as a shield, to held at least, a symbolic distance to him. "Finally Healers came to you. I´ve told the Headnurse yesterday…".
"HA!"
A frosty noise, it reminiscented her of a laugh vaguely, made of ice and steal, sliced through the girls thin voice. He sounded so cold and unendingly bitter. "Hardly likely. Those people conversed with me, because they wanted to assure themselves, if my state of mind allows it to follow the trial."
A growl deep out of hell followed by an icy titter. How could a face change so much? But always cold and cruel.
„They asked me questions about the last battle. Above all of course, about my plans and about my servants. I consider if I will express myself about that. Well, I'm going to see your friends again at the court. Aren't I? An unexpected meeting."
"What ever you say." Was all Hermione wanted to reply on that. Was it a threat, an announcement or the try of a conversation? Anyhow, she could not contain herself. "You know that the Malfoys shall testify against you?"
"Oh yes, they don't know I am still alive, do they? It promises to be entertaining." Voldemort returned in an expectant tone as if he was a little boy who was looking forwards to Christmas.
And to the first time, Hermione totally agreed with him wholeheartedly.
„The Malfoys"he spit out disgustedly "People without no backbone. They may be rich and boastful, but still they are lacking in convincement. Not particularly intelligent and still to weak after all. Lucius shall look into my eyes while he testifies. He will see what he gets from that."
Hermione did not know what she should make of this baneful announcement. What could he, lamed and wandless, do to Lucius Malfoy? He was disarmed and defenceless, wasn't he? However, he already seemed to have another thought.
„Aren't you in the same grade as Lucius´ son Draco? Severus was your teacher, wasn't he?" he hoisted his rest-eyebrows almost in a way as if he had been interested in what she was answering "Did you like Severus?"
The answer was not easy to Hermione. "No, not really." She said slowly and deliberately. Pensively she lent back on the trolley, which rolled aside by her weight so that she almost stumbled. But she straightened up herself, gave the trolley a slight boot and pulled it back to her thereafter. Crossed arms she now lent at the wall, curled her lips and sighed thoughtfully. "He was an unfriendly, cynically and embittered man. Still, it's a pity that we could never thank him for all he had done. He put himself in such a great danger." A short glance aside in flamy red eyes let this assumption became a certainty. "We all have misjudged him. We suspected him so often but he was always on our side." She sighed thoughtfully and let her finger run trough her hair. So much should have been told to so many people who weren't alive anymore. And Voldemort was accountable for all those dead.
Voldemort was by no way an enjoyable dialogue partner, but the fact that she was just washing a naked murderer, while he watched every of her movements appraisingly was too bizarre to think about. Almost obscene. Nevertheless, as long as it was possible to distract herself were even such morbid conversations and acceptable method to prevent herself from thinking about the here and now.
Hermione seized the soapwaterbowl and carried it over the washbasin, the get rid of all the dirt she felt in his presence. However, no matter how much and how often she rubbed herself down, she often she showered after her work, she still felt grimed.
Voldemort interrupted her train of thoughts. "Well, that's opposite to me. I regarded him as a useful and loyal servant, but then it turned out that he has been a traitor."
"Didn't you know that he was Dumbledores man? "this question was on the tip of her tongue for a long time. He nodded his head.
"I had the suspicion since he appeared so exceeding late to my resurrection. Even later on, I could discover signs of betrayal in his mind. However, no. I had no certainty. Otherwise I had killed him very much earlier, of course." the way he spoke about his victims, so factual and sober, sent her cold shivers down her spine. "Still, I regret that I haven't heard about his offences earlier. My followers should have heard about his death. It would have been important making clear to them, that there is no mercy for traitors." his voice, just sounded trivial, now seemed to ooze with disgust as if the very thought of Snape made him gag. As if the former professor had been something disgusting and abhorrent. "Those people are the cancerous ulcer of every society. One must not remove them simply. One must destroy them…radically… to prevent the infestation of healthy parts. That's the only way the more valuable elements can survive. "
Hermione dried her hands and grabbed the coffee mug behind her in the trolley. She spoke more to herself than applied to him, with a quiet but stronger becoming voice, which amounted to a murmured conjuration. „And therefore you are going to be destroyed now" She hold her head up, straightened up herself, looked directly into his eyes and full with convincement and with an so far unknown courage. "That´s why you have to die now. Your destiny is a sign to everyone. So we all can get healthy again."
The coffee in her hand, it had just been half-cold and rather turbid than inventing, got increasingly darker. She first noticed the change as the dark liquid concentrated to a swamp-like, pulpy brew that exploded with the force of a geyser and squirted boiling hot mud into her face.
"AHHHHH"! Her whole face, her ears, her throat and the upper part of her t-shirt were scalded, burnt and blistered.
Voldemort observed unmoved how Hermione staggered up panically. Half-blind who stumbled about her own trolley there she'd put a burn-ointment on.
Her hurting fingers fumbled hectically on the fastening of the tube, which was difficult with swollen eyes and deadened fingers. However, she managed it. Her red skin absorbed the cooling, soothing ointment within seconds and. As far as she could detect as she looked in the mirror, her face got smooth and safe after using the paste, and even the pains disappeared as fast as they came.
The first she saw as she was capable to open her eyes again was a profoundly, evil, triumphating grin which spread out all over Voldemorts pale face. "Don't lull yourself into a false sense of security. It might be an error." Commented the Lord the punishment with the voice of justification.
How had he managed to do it? Even without a wand, without saying a word he was still able to bundle his magic surprisingly well and painful. And she was alone with him.
„I must go to the toilette. "he snarled to her a short time later. Hermione was a bit bemused about this notification and a big red suffused Hermiones faced. Deeply ashamed she tried to do as if she had nothing heard.
„I'm not telling you that because I want to let you participate in my bodily functions, girl." Voldemort cleared her embarrassed cogitations up. "I´m telling you because you shall unloose me. I want to go myself to the toilette over there. "and his head nodded to the toilette on the other side in the room there the folding screen lay useless lent to the wall.
"No, not on any account" Hermione warded appalled. What did he think? She couldn't just relief a violent felon from his fetters, at her own discretion. It doesn't bear thinking about what he could do to her or the Aurors outside the door.
He must have seen her thoughts in her, because a contemptible grin ridiculed her. "Oh come on, or are you afraid of me?"
„I…erm…yes…no…I must not…" stammered the young which, frantically searching for a better argument as „erm…no".
But it did not impress him anyway. A deep look into her eyes told him anew all of her thoughts. Now he talked to her, soft and smooth, mellifluous but not lesser threatening. "I know very well you´re nauseating me. I´ve seen it so often in you. Only the thought of me makes you feel sick. Make it more bearable to us and release me."
But things weren´t so easy. Slowly she shook her head, and step for step, she shied away from him, carefully feeling her way backwards till she felt the wall washbasin an her back. "I must not. Who knows what you could do. "It was no help to euphemise the situation, the danger was too obvious. "In addition…" She gasped and panted for air and new ideas. ""you´re not able to walk anyway."
„So the possibility I could chase and downthrow you, therefore drops out. " Voldemort asserted moderately interested, before he went on speaking so much more insistently. "Then you have to guide me. And now, finally take these bans off me".
Actually she would like to do so, she would like it very much…to wash him was anything but pleasant. Even so he got stronger, he was still weak and in need of help.
She took the bans away before as she bathed him. Only the legs, the rest of his body had still been lamed. Hadn´t that coffee-thing revealed he was still dangerous, even without a wand? No as he got stronger, his powers came threatening fast back.
If he could burn her without a wand, then what else could he accomplish if he managed to wrest the wand away from her? Well, actually the body-memory charm should obviate it. Should…actually…hopefully.
Then he did something and it was more overwhelming than anything else she felt before. His eyes glinted like glowing coals and found their way into hers. Slowly, very slowly, a dull, somniferous overcame her, robed of her own self, as Voldemorts mind drilled into her head.
„Unloose me"ordered a voice, not from him, it seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her. Hermione lost her body. Sunk in the black pupils of his red eyes. Even so he was some steps away from her, was aware of nothing than the twinkle in those red eyes. Lightweighted beyond belief, she floated through a nothing, felt neither heaviness nor heath or coldness. Slight current pulses paved a way through her mind into her will, but she felt know pain.
Pictures and memories passed on by. Moved pictures of a little girl, that was very much like to her, appeared on the eye of her mind. Was it her own life she was watching? She lost the floor below her, lost the contact to her clothes and seemed to fly totally naked through a deep red night but still she felt the warmness of a summerwind on every hair on her body, which caressed her.
His voice, a minute ago threatening and cold, was now sweet-talking, her gentle, silky, warm, and wonderful and everything around her was fraught with its sound. While he ordered her anew to unloose him, she felt this voice embosoming her lost body and stroking her soul.
She did not realise what he said, but it animated her and she felt how those words wrapped her up like a soft cloak and awarded a new figure to her body, gave her mind a purpose. How exceedingly wonderful it was to flew trough that night, to dive into this red there the voice in the wind toughed her tenderly, while her own thoughts faded away.
As being druggy, she came closer, but did not stagger. She barley sensed where he was leading her, but she felt safe, did not stumble. But she did not walk anyway, maybe she floated, all through the red to a seductive voice. If she had no body, how could she still use her hands? How was it possible, that she raised the wand in her hand? Without a will and a voice, how did she manage it to speak the cunjuction-formula, that took the bans off him?
And the contact broke off.
An invisible hand ripped her with brutal violence back into her body and into reality. Horrified to the core about what had just happened, she jumped away, hastened backwards to seek shelter from the lurking snake, which now could attack her at any time to dismember her.
Speechless with fright, she pressed every inch of her body against the wall, stared to Voldemort, who now, distressful slow but with an expression of triumph in his face, set out to move his arms and legs.
He was back in his body too, which has been wrest away from him by his gaolers. He appeared almost happy, as he touched himself, as he felt himself, as if he wanted to assure himself that the life he felt inside really belonged to him.
As in a slow-motion, he pushed himself up until he could sit. Slowly and appreciatively, how wonderful it was to feel and control oneself.
As he finally managed it to sit upright, he let his legs slid over the edge of the bed and watched them dangling and shuttling with a fascinated smile in his face.
„That's better. And now, come here." commanded Voldemort the ashen-faced, whimpering and shivering Hermione, as he seemed to perceive her again.
Still Hermione stood lamed with horror at the wall, and instead of obeying to his order, she crept more and more into the edge of the room.
He is free, he is free. And I am alone with him. This idea was added by the fear of being caught. Caught by the Aurors, Clairs or the certainly rootedly disappointed Helen. How often they all impressed upon her, she should neither talk nor look to him. Never in his eyes…and now, more than ever before, she knew why.
Voldemort raised his thin, pale arm and the spider-like fingers lured her. "Come here to me!"
But Hermione don't felt like coming to him. Where was her wand? Had he already ripped it away off her hands? Her hands were empty… The experience of feeling him inside her had been so powerful. She might had done everything he wanted her to do…unable to have even to slightest control on herself.
She was disarmed, alone and at his mercy. Mercy…did he know this word at all? The thin, now more snake-like than ever, body glided to the edge of the bed. The skinny arms turned aside and his white fingers clung themselves seeking help to the bars of the bed. He pushed himself forwards until his feet met the ground and he stood upright and faced her.
And then, he just tumbled down.
„Arrghh. Come here now. Help me, girl." commanded the now by no means sweet-talking voice of the dark lord her back from her fear into reality.
Moreover, there was her wand. Down on the floor, directly in front of her feet. He hadn't charmed it away or ripped it off; she dropped it herself, with horror. She grabbed it fast and approached to the man on the floor who beckoned her over impatiently.
She came closer to him, till she stood above him, the raised wand pointing at him. But she wouldn't be so dumb to get one further step forwards so he could grab her.
Seeing him evocated the picture of the big bad wolf and the seven young kids in her. He also manipulated the goats with his voice and made them do forbidden things, and then…devoured them.
Voldemorts facial features got increasingly more devilish. Seemed as if he was about to hurl new threats at her, but his sepulchral voice gagged only an unutterable irritated „Please" out. "Please, and now come here and help me, girl. "
And Hermione obeyed. Too confused about hearing this word coming out of his mouth, she wasn't able to spin other horror scenarios out. With all her energy, she dragged him to the chair which stood besides his bed. He clung to that chair and hoisted himself up on his feet again.
But then he really grabbed her and threw himself on her. Appalled she thought, that he would now kill, rape, or,at least, knock her down to wrest the wand away from her... Fast, to avoid the worst, she threw her weapon away so that he could not steal it. If he would overpower her, she wouldn't give him the chance to get even more dangerous as he already was.
But the bony figure only clutched at her so far, that he would not fell over again. „Come on. Do I really have to beg? "
Anew she was aboulic, disembodied and let her self guide through a point she was not able to see or to feel. She lent Voldemorts will, until he let her off and Hermione found back to her own body.
But the only thing she could think of now was to get away from him as fast as possible. So she hastened back to his bed to fetch back her wand. She'd been so dumb, so unutterable dumb.
If it was unpleasant to touch HIM, then it was even more unpleasant as he touched HER. To feel this skinny body, to smell him, made her feel sick. In some way it was merciful that he put a spell on her, as he forced her to lead him through the room, so she did not get everything of that disgusting situation… even thinking about it without being able to remember, let her hackles raise.
How dumb you are, she scolded herself angrily. How could you How dare you help him, and what's now? Oh yes, Claris (and the Aurors?) had thrown here to the wolves. No…Snakes.
And the snake bit her and infected her with its poison. The effect of the poison was a mixture made of imperious and legilimency. Undoubtedly, he invented this spell himself. In this diabolic manner he forced his victims (and his followers?) to do what ever he wanted to, to betrayal their friends, kill their families, commit suicide…and he forced them do to all that cheerfully.
But why he hadn't done anything to her? No attack occurred.
She could run out to beseech the Aurors for help. Otherwise, didn't they tell her, only a hour or so ago, that she should not talk to him, should not look into his eyes…? But she did. And she hadn't done it to the first time. How about that? How should she justify herself, if they asked her why she'd been so carelessly? And maybe… a naked, weak man…he did not try to attack her… maybe she managed it on her own…
She would dare it once more. But before that, she had to get the wand beyond the reach oh his scrawny fingers. No matter how well-conceived the anti-theft protection device of the wand was, she wouldn't put anything past on him. Therefore, Hermiones wand disappeared between a stack of towels on the trolley, which rolled straight to the door after Hermione kicked him with a feet.
When she went across to him to help him back. He was so shaky on his feed. Shivered so much, they almost overbalanced and fell to the floor. His legs, thin and not used to walk for weeks, were too weak to hold his own weight. Still, as he sat on the edge of his bed again and Hermione rescued herself with a bold jump towards the trolley, he appeared to be contented for the first time.
But that wasn´t all. Her surprise knew no bounds as the boastful grinning figure accomplished a sneering „Thank you. "
"Let me be so a bit longer" he asked her, as she circled him with raised wand, bans murmuring. Appreciatively he raised his arms and shook them, seemed to be unlimitedly happy as he finally scratched an itching insect-bite.
The young Gryffindor coudn´t help herself. As she saw him sitting there on his bed, scratching and smiling, he didn´t appeared dangerous to her, he rather looked…twee.
Was it because she had to treat him like a child? Maybe, cause in this moment she felt motherly feelings ascending in her, as she watched him.
She turned around fast. He should never, to no time and under no circumstance see, that she smiled at him. "I'll certainly get to boot if someone's hears about this. I have to ban you solid again." Hermione tried instead to appear in a particularly severe manner.
„No, you haven't. First, you bring me something to drink". Voldemort voice penetrated anew into her mind, as she affronted him in an incautious moment.
"Stop it immediately, I…" and she already watched herself as she gave her conqueror the mineral water bottle.
After he had, shivery but without help, drunk she banned him as quick as flash, not to waste any further second, so she could lay him back into the bed again."
"Don't you ever do that again!" she tried to thread him.
„What? "came the gently, menacing answer back out of the in a strong kind alive looking face.
„That you, you put …this legilimeny, imperious…whatever spells on me. " And she resolved that she would never look into his eyes again. "It was so eerily. One loses oneself."
„Of Course. That was power. My power over you. "He confirmed her fears pleasurable, as if those threatening words savoured like chocolate on his tongue.
„If you obey me furthermore, I'll might teach it to you. And now go."
Unsure about that was an insult, a threat or an announcement Hermione decided to follow his order and sallied forth to go to the door. But just in the second her wand had nearly touched the door, she turned again and demanded: "But I also want to learn occlumency."
A second only, it might have been even shorter, flashed a trace, not just the whiff of a smile, over his face, as he answered her. "Sure, that would be useful to you. Now go."
xXx
Back in the leaky cauldron,
Hermione had drawn herself a bath. It was the only bathroom on this
floor. It was only a question of time until other people would come
and knock on the door because who also wanted to use the bath. But
Hermione did not feel like going out of the tub so fast, she had to
think about difficult questions and bathing and thinking fitted
together very well, so she looked the door with extra strong spells.
As far as she knew, the same spells which looked the door of
Voldemorts sickroom. But…what did she knew at all? To be honest,
not much… and the more she experienced in this job the lesser she
knew what to do.
She lay lent back in the tub, enjoyed the cosy
feeling the warm water gave her let her thoughts wander.
If he'd been serious as he offered lessons to her? A trance of a smile stole across her face as she thought on Harry's occlumency lessons with Snape, which had more in common with sado-maso practices than with education.
But now she was about to top the hit list of the most bizarre courses….if she agreed and if Voldemort hadn't lied.
Hermione Granger took lessons by the dark Lord Voldemort.
She should get herself a diary. If she wouldn't set about writing all the weird things of the last few weeks down she had experienced, she would probably not belief it herself in a few years.
Otherwise…lessons from Voldemort? The great manipulator. Wouldn't she make the doors wide open for attacks if she did so?
His demonstration of power this afternoon showed her all too well how much she had failed. How often they warned her, she shouldn't talk to him and above all, shouldn't look into his eyes…but she did. Moreover, neither the Aurors nor the nurses knew what else she had also done for him. Now he got healthier…stronger and mightier. But why he hadn't done something to her so far, although he had probably been able to do so. This afternoon he´d been able to do whatever he liked or wished to her… but nothing had happened. Well, nothing hurting.
A deeply appeasing assurance flooded Hermione. He would do nothing to her, she was safe with him. Not because of gratefulness or affections, he had no understanding of such things. No, it was because she was useful to him. Her usefulness was a stronger protection as decency or feelings he wasn't able to comprehend anyway.
Maybe he'd really liked Severus Snape in his own way, esteemed him at least, but still he killed him unhesitatingly, even so he hadn't known about Snapes betrayal at that point... Because an alive Snape was not longer useful to him. It was dumb to rely on feelings, but not on use.
No matter how much he called her help a bondservice, no matter how often he tried to label her kindness as weakness, no matter how much it humiliated him to get those things from a mudblood… He needed her.
If he would do anything to Hermione, then he'd be back in the hands of the hospital personnel. People who were reluctant to take care for him, and if, they did it sporadically.
He KNEW that he then had do lay in his own sweat and dirt for days…or weeks? He would be hungry and thirsty again…perhaps they'd starve him…
No, he wouldn't endanger her. Because even he wasn't able to love anyone or anything on this world, he was intelligent and rational enough to realise what was useful to him.
Hermione was safe with Voldemort. All of a sudden, all fear was disappeared.