Sorry, this is only the Beta-Version. I´ll update Chapter 13 (Victims and Offenders) on Tuesday
Chapter 12: Orgasm inside the brain
Hermione was incredibly excited on Monday. She spent the whole weekend thinking should she should really do this? It was improbable but, he could escape…and it were naive to think, that he wasn't dangerous .
On the other hand…she couldn't rid herself of the thought. Voldemort was said to be the most powerful dark wizard of all time…Since Dumbledore was not alive any more, he was certainly the greatest wizard on earth. And, in opposite to Dumbledore, he was downright keen on experimentation
Sure, his experiments were terrible and cruel… he had no use for harmless magic. But still one thing was clear…the dark Lord was a master of his trade. Gifted as scarcely anybody before, extraordinarily intelligent and comprehensively educated. If he really wanted to share his knowledge with her, than this possibility was to seductive to say no. He could teach her things… that she would never even hear about at Hogwarts. He was a Manipulator. But yet, he fascinated her… she wanted to learn.
Monday again….every day before she went to work, Hermione went to a grocery store close to the hospital. Today she would buy extra food and extra delicious stuff. Voldemort hadn't had anything to eat or to drink since Saturday afternoon. He wouldnt be able to concentrate if he was hungry. Sometimes Hermione tried to imagine, what his life was like. Lying around the whole day, lame, hungry, thirsty… Considering that, he was bearing up surprisingly well.
At the weekend, Hermione bought him more dark clothes from a flea market to cheer him up. Of course, he would prefer wearing a cloak, but that was much to expensive. Often enough she had to ask her parents for money, to satisfy her foster child's basic needs.
Today he did not have to tell her, she loosened the bans voluntary as she entered the room and started running his bathwater. After such a long weekend, he was particularly irritable and weak, Hermione understood this. If she didn't take care for him, he wouldn't feel like teaching her something.
To give herself more time, she told to the Aurors, she would have to do some additional, special psychotherapeutic exercises today. She'd also have to document some things and had to make changes in the room. All this, because she resolved to stay half the day with him.
He was still very weak, especially after lying down all weekend. But he accomplished the feat of getting to the toilet and to the bath tub on his own. Considering the circumstances, she couldn't have given him a greater gift than autonomy.
No words were said about the fight on Saturday. Now he lay in the tub and enjoyed being washed by the warm wet wash cloth, feeling the bubbles prickling on his skin. perhaps it gave him a feel of security. But certainly it made him feel like a human being again.
Hermione conjured herself a writing table, in front of her, a pen lying on the desk, she wrote her daily report now. If she did stay such a long time in here, she wouldn't feel like writing it in the afternoon. From time to time she looked across to her patient. She'd also conjured a table next to the tub, on which she put something to eat and a small-bottle of milk. He lay in the tub, his head resting on the edge and his eyes were closed. Beside him again floated a self-reading paper. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, had to keep herself from being to impressed by him. Instead of that, she paid her attention back to her work
"What are you writing there?" asked the commanding voice of Voldemort so socked was she by the sudden noise that she knocked the inkwell over and the ink spilled across the desk . The paper stopped reading itself, and she became aware, that he must have been watching her for quite a while.
"I…I'm writing a report. I have to document everything I'm doing here. Everything…" Hermione paused bashfully, no…she'd decided to leave her shyness behind her. "you are do and say. And I thought to myself that it would us take more time today…because of the of the lessons. So I started to write the report now… I want to have a free afternoon."
Voldemort sat up in the bath and glared daggers at her with his piercing red eyes, but Hermione lowered her gaze immediately. She didn't want to make it so easy for him any more.
"What are you writing about me? Read it!" he ordered gruffly, but this time he seemed to be honestly interested. In some way Hermione felt embarrassed about the things she wrote, but he must recognize that she'd permanently broken all the ministry (and the hospitals?) orders. "Actually I'm writing not much about the things I'm really doing here. So much is forbidden. For example, I'm not allowed to give you something to eat, to where… And of course I'm not allowed to speak with you. Or even look at you. And it's absolutely forbidden to take the bans from you." Hermione blushed and looked busy cleaning the ink off. Looking down her knees, she muttered. "Every day I'm coming up with new ideas. In some way, it's always the same things I'm writing down. But by now, I'm pretty good at restating the same things every day in a new way.
"Why you doing all this?" he asked totally perplexed. Hermione shrugged.
"I don´t know. I think to myself… I wouldn't like to be in this situation. Without anything to eat…naked…." But Voldemort had already turned away from her. He had no use for such exotic things like compassion anyway. Instead he climbed out of the tub and put his clothes on. She'd got to hand to hand it to him. once he took something into his head, he didn't gave up.
After he'd done this and had rested for a while, he stood, astonishing firmly, in front of his bed looking as if he would wait for her to begin reading the report.
"Well, let us start now. Come here, girl." Voldemort ordered, pointing in front of him to the floor, Obediently Hermione approached him, a chair under her arm. They would do the lessons sitting, he had already told her so.
Wrapped in black clothes, standing upright and barking commands, he reminded her so much of the Voldemort she used to know in past, it raised her hackles and ice-cold shivers ran down her spine.
And he was so tall. In the past she had never come so close to him to notice how tall he really was. Now, standing in front of him, her eyes only reached his chest and his lower throat. The whole time she cared for him, he'd been so helpless, shivering and weak…he had looked almost tiny to her. But now…straight, upright…he looked so big so daunting, and…great to her. Shrunken and unconfident once more, Hermione took three steps back. Voldemort stalked her. Seeming to appraise what he could to her and what not.
He's like a psychologist, Hermione thought to herself. He sees people and detects only by the tone of there voice or the way they move, the pose of their body how he has to handle and to treat them, to achieve his objectives. But what objectives he might pursue with her?
Temporarily he'd probably decided to start with the announced lessons.
"Well, girl." The cold voiced launched, into a speech. „From what I heard, you are a relatively intelligent for a mudblood. Which charms have you learned so far?" out of his mouth, that bordered almost on a compliment. Therefore Hermione resolved to forget the "modblood" and started instead to tell him the content of her last two school years along general lines. And also about what else she'd learned and done beyond her school lessons.
Voldemort listened to her silently, on and off he nodded to show, he was still following her, but yet he didn't appear surprised about her obvious work enthusiasm and thirst for knowledge. "You're 18 but you haven't finished your school year. Why not?" he probed instead.
„Well…" she wanted to sound self-confident, but all that came out was a nervous chatter, how could she explain to him of all people what she'd done last year, without risking an new fit of rage? "last school year. Erm…Ron, Harry, and I…" she harrumphed nervously and watched him from the corner of her eyes. "We didn't go to Hogwarts at all. We were occupied with…" Hermione lowered her eyes under the increasingly cold gaise of Voldemort. "We were busy…Dumbledore told us to…erm…we wanted to kill you." And as she ended that sentence, she handed herself the award for the most morbid speech in history.
Voldemort starred at her expressionless for a while, then he nodded and went on speaking in a emotionless manner. "Yes, of course. Well, fundamentally it doesn't matter if you have already finished the school or not. What I'm going to show you now isn't included in the Hogwarts curriculum anyway. I think your previous knowledge should suffice."
He'd positioned the both chairs facing each other and told her to sit on one , while letting himself glide into his chair with snake-like elegance. He sat crossed legged in front of her, absolutely poised and open. He was so self-reliant… what a glaring contrast to Hermione, who sat there tensed like a rubber band, all possible body parts knotted into each other while her face was populated by countless red spots..
„Is it a dark art. Legillimency?" Hermione broke through the silence.
Voldemort clicked his tongue noisily and bent forwards arms crossed. It looked as if he'd been waiting for that question, because he started immediately factually and fluently, to spread his position out to Hermione.
"The classification into light and dark magic is actually irrelevant. You should have been realising, that such classifications are strongly depending on the respective position. Dark arts" he commented with a contemptuous laugh. „The dark arts are what such people like Dumbledore are afraid of, because it means empowerment. And why is Dumbledore afraid of this?" the brow raised expectantly" seemingly wanting to rip the answer out of her. But Hermione was sure about her opinion, it was just to obvious. "Because they´re evil. The dark arts are a kind of magic that inflicts damage to other people intentionally." Hermione answered, more or less learned by heart.
"WRONG!" Voldemort cut her short with a loud shout, while his hands preformed a "time-out" gesture. Then he hit himself forcefully on the knee, with his fist. "Dumbledore despised the dark arts, because he was attracted by them. He feared them, because he desired them himself. Similar to something else, he'd also been desiring, from what I heard. Unwilling to confess that to himself, he'd shut it away."
Hermione shrugged with a fake indifference. No, this allusion to Grindelwald was just to stupid to react to. But the dark lord was already calm again, he settled back and pointed with his outstretched forefinger on his legs. "What do you think what kind of magic the bans are, on me?" Honestly surprised Hermione unknoted her arms and legs. "But that was done by the healers."
"Certainly, to dominate me. Look at this way. Light magic creates something new, the dark arts dominates to If that's good or evil. "once more he laughed sneering at these words. "That all depends on the purpose behind the spell. But it's always a matter of might and power. There are people who have the talent and the courage to use those arts, but there are also the weak ones, who cannot or will not use them."
In Hermiones ears that sounded, as if he would label everyone with ethics or a conscience automatically as dumb. Yes, that might be the case. "Good. Let´s start. Maybe you are right. It depends on the intention." She was already nervous enough, she shouldn't delay things unnecessary.
Looking supremely contended, he sat up to face her, and gave the impression as if he now wanted to explain the charms to her. But suddenly, there was something out of harmony with that picture. If Hermione hadn't known any better, she would have thought he was embarrassed by something.
Agitated he shifted about on his chair, turned away from her gaze, compressed his thin lips and seemed to think about something.
He bit into his lips and Hermione discovered the familiar tantalised look on his face he always put on, if he had to say something friendly, pleasing to her.„If I am to teach you these things, then i shall need to show the wand movements to you. I need a…well, something that I can show you with. " he said in a tone, which one had called bashful at other people.
Hermione nodded and grasped behind her on the trolley, took the first longish object she found and gave it to the confused looking ex dark Lord.
"This is a toothbrush." He snarled indignantly at his student.
„It will serve it's purpose." answered the unexpectedly relaxed Hermione, tapped on the toothbrush with her wand, which turned into something, that was very similar to Voldemorts former yew wand
"It's only a toy." Hermione remarked, frantically endeavoured not to look at Voldemorts rage-filed face. "But it will do to show the movements."
pure cynicism seemed to be radiate out of him, as he recovered himself again, moved himself back onto the chair and went on, collected but determined. "Well, all right. Do we begin with legilimency or occlumency?".
Hermione hesitated, adjusted herself on the chair and sighed. That was not an easy decision. The manner he penetrated into her mind, when he was inside her head, that was frightening and moreover, she didn't really know if she should let him, as he was not infirm any more, but angry because of the toothbrush-wand, But on the other hand…IF he taught her occlumency, that would be the end to all those things. So occlumency first was a reasonable choice….but in spite of this alluring idea of safety, she decided against it. Maybe it was due to the curiosity of entering other peoples head. Or the curiosity to feel like him, for just a little while… "First I want to learn legilimeny". Hermione answered therefore a little unassertive,
"Good, then look here, girl. I'll show it to you, don't just memorize my gestures, but also the sound and the intonation of my voice. The accent of the curse is important as well." Voldemort waved his brush-wand in a snake-like pattern with the, bent forward, and flowed her mind around as she spoke a commanding. "Legilimens."
In fact she´d been waiting for a new attack against her mind, but that failed to appear. He might want to be sure, she stayed attentive. So the cold, gruff voice sounded again clear to her. "Did you listen to me? Did you attend?"
Hermione nodded. „I think so. But there's something I don't understand. Why the wand? You´ve done it so often to me…at me… and you've nether needed a wand,"
The self-importance in his boastful voice resonated through Hermione. "YOU need one. I don't. I can do many things with my mind or by the deliberately use of my voice. That's another kind of magic. Be grateful if you meanwhile manage to command the wand."
He stared at her with an unreadable expression. "So, now it's your turn. And something else has to be clear to you. You've got to look deeply into my eyes. With enough talent, and if your targets are weak enough, you may find a way to invade into a mind without a wand. But it's easier if you hold eye contact. YOU!" and once more he threw the well-known "What can once expect from a mudblood?"-glance at her. "´You've got to hold eye contact to me now."
She tried hard, she wanted to, but as she leant forwards to get close to him, to dive into those blood-red eyes for the first time, she became more and more nervous. Couldn't concentrate on his cruel face.
The pale figure of the tall man in front of her reminded her so much of a skull, now more then ever as his face was distorted by an evil smirk and his eyes began to glow like living rubies.
"Are you scared of me?" again this question and the answer was still the same. Yes…as she looked at him, then he still overawed her. More than ever, because now, with a "wand", sitting upright and only a few inches away, looking down at her, then he was the dark lord again she had to chase and kill, an eternity ago…this spring.
And he knew it, eyed her fear and seemed to soak his effect on her into him. A well known pleasure. How long is it since he could last savour tantalising other peoples? But soon his face went serious again.
The skeleton-like fingers grabbed her chin roughly and lifted her face up, till she had to look into his eyes, so he could look daggers at her…
"You must look into my eyes. Else it won't work. That wasn't a trick question. If you are scared of me, the charm won't work."
Hermione nodded, though she thought to herself that his hand on her throat was not conductive to the fear relief. But then he spoke on calmer now. "Good. Listen to me now. I won´t do anything to you during the lesson. I won´t force you to do something you don't want. I will not try to rape or to kill you." And for reasons Hermione didn't understood herself, maybe because of the magic that inhered in his voice, she believed him and became relaxed.
"It's a matter, as i told you, of wielding power about over other peoples mind, and dominating, exploring and also influencing and changing it. But such charms only succeed, if you know exactly what you want. If you're nervous or scared, it doesn't work. You can only dominate other people, when you're not afraid of them,
You must know exactly what's in your head, what you're doing. The wand doesn't think, it's doesn't mind what you're doing with it. You've got to feel and to want the charms you want to perform. Did you get that?" Hermione nodded obediently and tried to follow her new teachers words.
"You cannot simply repeat memorised formulas. You've got to mean what you're saying. Realise the meaning of the spells then it won't matter which words you're saying. If your mind controls the wand, words are not important any more. You can even confuse you foes by using wrong curses while you're performing other charms.
Let your mind and you will turn into hands, able to seek, grab and modify. Other peoples mind have to became a mouldable mass in those hands. I'm now going to show you pictures and thereafter you describe to me what you've seen. So…and now you."
Just when Hermione started to do the wand movement, another question acurred to her, and it made sense to clear it up before she started. "But what will I see? I mean…" a bashful little cough should help her to talk about her misgivings. „if I should see to much… won't you get angry?"
"I can control myself." Voldemort barked at her cold and dismissive. „You will only see what i am willing to show you. You should try to get into me as far as you are able to. You won´t get further than I allow it. But start now, girl." Voldemort urged her full of impatience.
Bent forwards again, ready for Hermiones curse, he was closer to her than he had ever been before. Could she really dominate him? She had have to confidence in that to herself . Had to work up all her Gryffindor-courage, cause what was facing her was a powerful warlock and not an infirm, ill child. But still, it tempted her all to much, to try it not.
Hermione took a deep breath, tightened herself and then… "Legilimens" her voice sounded. The wand pointed on him, sitting upright, searching for eye.-contact and willing to receive it. But nothing happened… What was to blame for it? What had she done wrong? Once more he showed the movement and the pitch to her, and she tried it again… Still nothing. But at the third time, she felt it.
A strange tickling crept over her, as she dived again into his eyes, but this time she was the one who pulled him inside her.
Pictures flowed into her. First blurred but soon cleared up. A landscape that reminded her of a forest. It was the forbidden forest she went through. The landscape blurred again and now she was in the centre of the battle. Green flashes left her wand and she saw them falling down, she the people she hit sinking on the floor. The people she killed…saw their lifeless eyes but it did not matter, she did not care about them…
"NO"! Hermione moved backwards. "Why do you show me that?" she shouted at him upset.
"What?" he returned unmoved.
"The battle, I've seen people dying, they have suffered. I don't want to see that, don't show me something from the battle. Show me something else."
"Do you really believe the other pictures a could show you would be different?" he commented moderately bored. She was shocked, could it really be that there was NOTHING more peaceful in him to watch? Again she felt sorrow inside her, because of that confession. Or wasn´t it rather abhorrence?
"Is there nothing at all you could show me from your life. Something nicer or more peaceful?" she begged to him in the hope of nether really feeling THIS mind inside her.
"Something peaceful?" Voldemort appeared honestly surprised, averted his gaze, curled the lips and knitted his "brows". Again Hermione was struck. Was it really so hard for him to evoke a pleasant memory?
But seemingly something occurred to him. "Good. I think that should suffice. Try it again."
And Hermione obeyed, raised her wand and again the pleasurable feeling from just before flushed her. She soaked him in, and now there were other pictures. Again in a forest, she did not have to ask, she knew that is was an Albanian forest. The day was dawning. The leaves around her were still wet, cause it had been raining last night. The forest soil was slippery, but soft because of the leaves and the mud it was covered with. The air wasn't cold, but fresh and reeked of rain. She glided smooth as a snake, without joints and hence unlimited through the cool glade underneath her and was aware of the luscious red, in which the sky was dived.
But something else, the longer she glided along, soaked the thoughts of the moment in and looked around, the more pleasurable flow the electrifying feeling around her. Spread out and crept into every inch of her body. It felt so good, she could dominate it, channel it… and her body burnt by the feeling of being able to dominate.
A soft moaning left her lips, it was unfamiliar, frightening and yet exciting…. But then… it was is if something would press against her mind, an invisible hand push her put of that memory and forced her to perceive her chair, also the cold room around it, again.
"What did you see?" the pale figure bent full of curiosity forward to her, even closer than before and appeared honestly interested.
"I've seen you in Albania, in a forest. It was morning and I think you took possession of a snake." The still a bit dazed Hermione summarised the facts. After he nodded agreeing to her, she decided the mention the other thing as well. "But I felt so strange It was so… so… I don't know, not unpleasant…. I bevlieve it was related to the charm."
A big grin spread across Voldemorts face, his eyes sparkled knowing and he proved her suspicion true with a conspiratorial whisper. "Yes, I know. That belongs to the dark arts. You experience power."
First his voice sounded cold, yet now it softened, I seemed as if he wanted to confide a secret to her.
Promising…that would fit, it sounded almost indecent, as he approached with his chair, a hungry expression in his eyes, and whispered: "
Magic is might. These are no empty words. The kind of magic I can show to you imparts immense power to you and yes…this power is really intoxicating. The dark arts, as you call them, are not tempting because they are unpleasant. At least not to you." he got even closer to her and Hermione leant herself involuntary backwards, away from him but still she couldn't elude from the greedy look in his eyes. Hermione gulped, her mouth went dry and she could feel what he was talking about. Only by the sound of his words he evoked the need in her to perform those forbidden, dark charms. Now was so close to her, that their knees contacted. His mouth so close to her ear, she felt the warm breath caressing her throat and tickling inside her ear conch, as he spoke on insistently. "Might is exciting. Performing some powerful charms is as exciting as an orgasm inside your brain."
She couldn't help looking at him closely. As he spoke full of enthusiasm about the excitation he felt during these charms, the charms she might taste now too, it was as if they just had experienced something sexual together. It seemed as if he'd got to restrain himself by the thought of his own overwhelming power, from having to lay his hand on himself to touch, or even touching her.
"it´s overwhelming. You´ll feel absolute power over other people. You may call it evil, but it's an mind-blowing feeling and in any way…seductive. Believe me. But…" and all of a sudden his voice was a cold and dismissive as usual, and he slid backwards like a snake onto his chair. "Fear and Weakness will undo it. You've got to want it, you've got to feel the might inside you…feel how it's rolling over you and pervades you. Only then it's effective."
Hermione nodded agai, even if she was unsure if she was ready for what he'd been depicting to her in so seductive colour. In some way it sounded as if he was sexually satisfied by the power of his charms, or as it were a drug with an egregiously strong effect.
If Marx said religion was opiate of the masses, power was heroin to Voldemort. An incomparable high and sense of delight. Impossible to close one's mind to it, yet made everyone who tasted it after only a few try addicted to it, increasingly demanding for more.
Yeah, that fits very well, Hermione thought to herself. Voldemort, who'd, by his own statement, barely indulged himself in material or sensual pleasures, let himself be intoxicated by his own power and became a slave to himself. At the beginning of his life, he owned nearly nothing from that… and as he'd discovered the magical world, came out with his unbelievable gifts, he couldn't help from getting more and more of these drugs… Power, fear and maybe…respect. Somewhere on his way away from being unimportant, he developed another intention…and strived to be a god-like. Yes, that's what he thought to himself. The only way to make sure that he wasn´t usual, was to be a god.
And in the end, as it seemed, Voldemort would die on a overdose of his own drug.
The moment their eyes met, she knew it. She did not have to use legilimency to know that at this very moment, they were thinking exactly the same thing. There he was, the greatest warlock of all time, probably the most powerful wizard on earth…and perhaps he only had to stretch his long fingers a bit forward and he were armed with a wand and could do more harrowing things to her, than she would ever be able to invent herself.
He could put her under the imperious curse…he could escape. His glance fell on the wand which rested in his hand. His eyes were attracted by it, he didn't seemed to realize that that, what he felt cold and smooth beneath his white fingertips, possessed no power and was only a toy.
He could overpower her effortlessly, could kill the Aurors in front of his door fast as a snap of the fingers. And he would be free again. He could take possession of other people, could make himself invisible and or could transfigure himself. But first of all, he would kill her, because she was a witness of his shame and weakness.
His long, white fingers rolled the wand slowly back and forth. An portentous smirk played about his lips. His glance glided away from her to his hands and it seemed, as if he would not held a wand but seduced a beloved.
But then, It might have lasted only a second, he seemed to have abandoned this idea. As if he was sobered up from a inebriation, it might have become clear to him, that the wand in his hand didn't possessed any magical power. That he, even if he succeed to relieve the wand from Hermione, it still would be more than improbable that he couldn't manage to break through the bans and the legions of Aurors around the hospital. So he abandoned this thought and yield up to his fate for now.
After they'd practised Legilimency together for a few days, he went on and showed occlumency to her. That was very important to Hermione, after she experienced for herself how intoxicating that kind of magic was, she didn't want to seduce Voldemort voluntary to use those spells on her. She didn't want to be like easy prey to him.
She needed a shield, something to enclose her mind from him. And contrary to her fears, the occlumency lessons weren't unpleasant. He looked inside, and what he saw there didn't seem to arose much interest in him and after a few tries, she managed it to push him out of her mind. Probably he didn't took to much pain to stay inside her…but no matter, she'd understood the principle. And actually she'd planed before that this should do it. Actually… but her "Master" must have been right. The cosy shivers that pervaded her every time she used this magic, were just to seductive to forget.
And all those things were so unutterable easy to him. In his opinion he wasn't even the teacher who taught her reading or writing. He only showed to letters to her she would might one day need to build words. And Hermione never was able to resist when it came to extending her knowledge.
So she brought along some books on the following day, to discusses with him…in a way she never could have done so with Ron or Harry.
And he always engaged with going through all her questions side by side. It was eerie and fascinating at the same time, to share in his talent, his knowledge and his abilities.
Voldemort was not a particularly patient or friendly teacher, but being allowed to watch the master at work was worth to bear all his taunts and insults. And as she stowed her books into her cupboard in the leaky cauldron in the end of the week, she was sure that she'd learned more in the last few days than in the whole 6. year in Hogwarts.
The dark lord, although she didn't want to call him that was incredible. His arrogance, his pride and his skills provided an aura of might and power to him, so strong, it even couldn't be harmed by the seedy, cold room or the much too large clothes Hermione had given to him.
Everyday she took along books, pinfeathers and parchment. Now she didn't write her faked reports at home any more, but at his sickroom. Even read them to him, and he never got tiered of commenting, giving her advise and correcting (so Claris really could read something new every day)all those reports, till he allowed her to deliver them to Claris. After she'd done that, she sat down twice as long to write down the orders, advise and commands he gave her.
Only two hours a day were'nt enough anymore. Sometimes she spend, without noticing it till she came home, half-day with him. And because this time was so valuably to their lessons, because he said he had first wanted to refer to some books before he told her something new and needed rest to prepare the new lessons, because it seemed a waste of time to watch him during his personal hygiene…because of all those things, she "forgot" it more and more often to lay the bans on him before she left the room.
How shocked they would be at Hogwarts, if she now finally made it to triumph over all her teachers in her last year. Well…over some teachers. Not over Snape for example. She would never be able to triumph over him. Cause he was already dead. Killed by him, Lord Voldemort.
How much she'd like to tell Ron, Harry or even Ginny about all this. They'd certainly understand how mind-blowing the experience was to her, to be flooded with new knowledge in such a manner. By him…the terror of the magical world.
No matter how thin and weak he had been on her first days at Mungo´s, she adored him more and more. What a luck she always had his death was kept in her mind. That she'd internalised his death as a fact. Otherwise he might have managed to seduce her, quite the way, he'd seduced so many other wizards and witches before.
But Hermione also knew, that HE normally had never stooped himself so low as to show an 18year old mudblood all his secret skills.
But conjuring and power were his weak points, and since no one else was around him but Hermione to pass his time, he put all his energy on their common hours…thought Hermione.
Voldemort himself never seemed to be satisfied with her achievements, no matter how much she deemed her new abilities as a miracle herself. Even though no day passed without dispraises and reprehension, the very fact he still gave her new lessons and he agreed every day again to discuss with her about all her books and questions, was proof enough to make sure he regarded her as gifted.
Hermione beamed with pride about hours as he commended a self-developed charm with "Yes, quite well done." An unbelievable compliment for a man like him.
But in spite of everything, Hermione felt how those lessons changed her. At least in the relationship with him. More and more she looked forward to their common hours. Every morning she waited impatiently till she could be with him again. He was unbelievable, fascinating.
She felt ashamed of herself cause she knew very well about Voldemorts great talent. He always could beguile the ones, who were useful to him. Could detect all her secret wishes and fears and could make them believe, at least in the beginning, that he had/was exactly what they'd been searching for. And Hermione enjoyed it all too much, to be washed around by his talent.
An orgasm of the brain…how fitting that was. That was exactly the way, she felt about her lessons.
Of course they didn't speak about his crimes. Her plan to reverse HIM was pigeon-holed. That was pretty slick of him, that she'd got to hand it to him.
Ron, that was for definite, was the one she loved and she would probably got married to one day. But he couldn't give some things to her-. She'd wished for years to meet someone around her, she didn't have to look mentally down.
Dumbledore had certainly been fascinating, but she'd never got so close to him like Harry did. Had never been his personal student.
No matter how evil the dark Lord was, he impressed her. So much, she drank all the knowledge he offered to her. As greedy as a parched she sucked in everything he showed to her. The lessons in school had never been a real challenge to her, something to grow along with. She never was thwarted here, never ran the risk to be labelled as a nerdy creep.
No, even Voldemort seemed to be more confident, easier. It was overkill to call the manner he treated her good or friendly, but it was obvious it was a pleasure to him having such a gifted student.
Sometimes Hermione felt, as if she was his heir. As if he wanted to press as much knowledge in her as possible, in the short time that was left to him. And most of the time she felt, is if her head would surely burst about all the new things she'd learned.
But then… when she was back in the burrow and listened to all the funny but sometimes terrible smatterings…and looked to the empty chair near George… the place where Fred had used to sit… When she felt the pain about all the deaths, even worse as ever before. And the bad conscience that always comes along, if one fraternises with the enemy.
She was afraid of becoming evil herself, so embracing she assimilated him. She was also afraid of getting more resemble to him. To fall for him…how much other people he might have committed to himself that way? Had seduced them and veered them away from what they used to be in past.
As he did it to Snape, till reality became so much crueller obvious to him, yet the way to returned was blocked by his dark bog.
Some days she ridiculed at Harry and Ron, because they would never dare performing certain charms, therefore would never feel the prickling feeling of pure might which arose in her, every time she had her lessons. Sometimes she missed a common basis for a conversation with her parents, who knew so less about the things that moved her those days.
No he wasn't her child any more, maybe her teacher, that seemed to fit better. And ever and ever again the frightful idea, he could take possession her, could contaminate her…as if he was toxic. As if he had a contagious, fatal disease.
But still… he was like an addiction. Nevertheless it was good and facilitating to talk with someone who loved knowledge as much as she did.
Privily , there she noticed it…he manipulated her. He gave her what she needed, fed her with his views till she was full and allowed her to ask him so many questions about all ways of magic, so they had after all those clever discussions, no time to take about morale or ethics.
Yes…deep in her head, if she dared investigating herself, she had to agree with those who ever told her, that the dark Lord was a master of temptation. And a master of distraction. As long as he fed her, he had a rest from thoughts which were rootedly unpleasant to him.
Those lessons lasted about a month, but then Hermione had to take a rest. Wanted badly to refrain from him and his dangerous speeches, which sometimes even appeared to make sense to her.
That day, he told her how he transmigrated inferi… Not what she'd ever wanted to do so, but was still interesting to her about. But otherwise…did she really have to know THAT?
Should she really allow such things to find their way into her knowledge and her skills? So they'd arranged to break their lessons. He almost appeared disappointed.
But maybe it was only, because he feared the boredom waiting of him, then he's clever head had again nothing others to do than counting the days till his end.
But the worst of all was… sometimes she almost liked him.
She probable did as he told her, his first of all book in the magical world was "Hogwarts, a history."
Those days she understood Dumbledore so very well, how he got beguiled by the enthusiasm, the clever mind and the evil charm of Gellert Grindelwald…cause the same thing happened between her and Voldemort.