Beta Version is coming soon. And a big kiss to Luciun Weasley-Ogg because he´s strong enough to do this
Chapter13: Offenders and Victims
Hermione sat together with Voldemort in his bed. He, cross-legged at the footboard, Hermione squatted on her knees, sat at the headboard. Sidewise next to them, floated a plastics-bowl filled with fresh, ruby-red strawberries which pervaded the whole room with a slightly sweet flavour.
In Hermiones educational efforts to bring some sense in Voldemorts uneventfully daily routine, she'd started this week to play games with him. Card games and games of dice. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic at first, yet he agreed after all. The oppressive boredom of his last days might made him doing so. Even though he had preferred to play chess, a game Hermione had no command of. He offered to teach it to her, if she would bring a board along… but anyhow, at least they had to do something at all. Actually she'd liked to play LUDO with him, but by the very thought of with WHOM she'd liked to play that, added by and the not negligible danger to get angry during the game) , this idea forbade itself.
They broke the their lessons two weeks ago. That time, while he taught her charms and forbidden secrets, he appeared calmer, more confident and was relaxed. So she'd been right, he needed a task…something that was more captivating to him as knitting elves-heads. But on that way she allowed him and his body of thought to find their way into her thoughts. So the brunette girl came up with new ideas for distraction…and until anything what made sense would come out by these cogitations, they would keep on playing games.
Today they played for the strawberries, Hermione had bought them before she went to St.Mungo´s. For every won game, one was allowed to take five strawberries. After Voldemort had won 5 times in series the card game, she decided to change the game. It was all too obvious that he was mercilessly cheating. However he managed to do this…
So they diced now. They played with 5 dices. Each of them should dice a total of 20times… till now they both diced already 19 times and their match was drawn. Voldemort had the turn again and diced an each of the five dices seven. SEVEN?
„Hey. HOLD IT!" Hermione launched into an peeved protest, but then he raised his head and the most innocent smile Hermione had ever seen appeared in front of her eyes…and she smiled back.
Yes, some days she almost liked him.
Wherefore she was a witch? Hermione felt for the wand she concealed in the sleeve of her cloak, where he couldn't see it… and diced… five "nines". Contentedly chuckling she grabbed for the bowl with the remaining strawberries and jumped from the bed, to stow the dices back into her beaded back.
He in contrast, grabbed quietly grumbling for the probe bottle besides him. Today, on Monday, there was a new sort for him. Till now, he only got chocolate all the time, but today Hermione found bottles with something filled, she supposed to be vanilla.
Not really worthy of a Lord, but because Hermione had just prevailed over the last strawberries and he still felt a hunger , he had for better or for worse to satisfied with that.
Voldemort launched into a deep gulp and emptied to bottle to three quarters, in order to put it thereafter back on the bedside locker besides his bed.
The long legs knotted to a tailor sit, he began shortly after to stagger a little. The suddenly trembling hands glided across his face, as if he would try to wipe something off his skin. Over and over again, while he swayed himself back and forth and the cold sweet let the pale skin shine. The mouth a little opened, his breathing became increasingly louder.
Uncertain what was to do, Hermione stopped in front of him next to the sink and watched the strange behaviour of the dressed in merely black underwear man. "Are you okay?" Anxiously she noticed the increasingly glassier getting gaze and the slightly abstracted expression in the face of her patient. "What´s wrong with you?" Hermione asked the heavier staggering, swaying man. Even though she wasn't sure at all, if he was able to hear her, as she looked in his other-worldly mien. He had to take one hand from his face to put it in front of him on the bed to support himself. The other hand still felt around the back of his head, his lips, eyes, the rest of his nose… "I…I….strange." he gargled, while his eyes rolled up in his head and before she could catch him, he tilt forward on his pillow. But not unconscious, cause he made it to turn himself from his stomach on his side, the legs lifted on his chest to an embryo position.
„Tom…?" she felt unsure as she called him by his name, so she hadn't called him by any of his many names at all, said always just "you". But now that didn't matter anyway, because he didn't seem hearing her, neither perceiving anything around him at all. Heavily and noisily breathing, he moved even deepen in into his pillow.
The worried Hermione sat herself on the edge of his bed, uncertain what else to do, she shook him with her outstretched arms carefully. "Can you hear me?"
Slowly, as in trance, he turned his head towards her direction, but didn't seem to look at her. The pupils small like sharpened pinheads, scampered wildly around in the redness of his eyes, as if they'd try to dance. He mumbled something, real softly… she steadied her bushy braid by pinning it up and bent down downwards, so she could understand what was saying, so close to his mouth, that her ear almost touched his lips and the warm breeze of his heavy breathing tickled on her earlap. "Tired. Want to sleep." Was all she heard. What was that again? Rather confused than worried, she straightened up again und slid from the bed. A moment before clear and awake, he couldn't tilt over simple as that.
What has happened…shortly before…? The probe bottle on the trolley caught her eyes. The probe bottle with the new flavour Vanilla in it. The new bottle Helen had put into her shed this morning.
Hermione drew her wand, carefully balancing what was to do now, she sneaked up to the Vanillafood. She only had to tip it quickly and her assumption turned into certainty. The viscous broth in the pellucid bottle started blistering, and pressed a kind of powder onto the surface. The both substances parted with each other, so that a thin film of something, that evocated her of brown sugar, formed above the still ivory-coloured Vanilla-liquid. Hermione took the bottle and repaired to the door. She wasn't sure if the bottle had cracked as it was opened, or had somebody done that before he did, to fill in a poison? Well, something had been filled in, that was obvious. She turned around carefully, as she reached the door and glanced to her still heavily breathing fosterling, who lay with semi-closed eyes in his bed. His hands consistently clenched to fists, just to be relaxed and opened again. As if he would search something in the palm of his hands. She would let him lie like this, he wasn't able to act that good, he wasn't simulating.
The decision in her mind, to come back soon, she let her patient without bans back in his bed, as she hurried out to seek for Helen…who filled the board in the locker every monday anew.
Helen charged the spell damage ward. Voldemort was actually, after he was hit by his own spell, admitted into Helens ward. But he shouldn't be put with one of his victims into a room because of comprehensible reasons, moreover it seemed to be dangerous to admit him without additional safety measures at all, and because the ministry wanted to keep his survival a secret for a while, he was brought to the special wing, that was used as a forensic ward in former times. Better said, in the times of Voldemorts first powerful days.
Yet officially, it that was the correct expression what with all these secrecies, Voldemort was still in the spell damage wing, so his care was organised by Helen. Hence, so thought Hermione, she had to show the bottle to Helen… and that was for sure, she would never go to Claris again if she had a problem.
She found the blonde charge nurse in a nurse-lab, where she, cheery whistling, was just busily engaged with mixing new healing potions together for her patients. Hermione got spontaneously the urge to ask Helen for her potion lessons at Hogwarts. Who had taught that subject before Snape? Helen had been a Hufflepuff, so much she'd already told her. But regarding to her age, she must have known Snape as a student.
Hermione approached with an outstretched arm, waving the evidence to and fro and swept into the lap, unsure if she should either be concerned or angry. The blonde nurse glanced surprisingly up from her work as she saw Hermione coming over to her, but as her eyes were caught by the probe bottle in Hermiones hand, she nodded to the younger one with a conspiratorial, knowing smile.
Helen bent over to her and jabbed her pally with the elbow in the rips. Hermione didn't know what that was supposed to mean, as Helen bent with a mystically smile on her lips down to her ear and aspirated a gentle "Sedatives. Bloody stronge ones." Into her ears.
She was so close to her face, Hermione saw all the wrinkles the years have drawn into Helen´s friendly face and felt her warm breathe on her forehead as she turned around to look into Helen´s blue eyes, wherein she saw her own mirror image reflecting. Helen curled her lips and out her surprisingly gentle forefinger onto Hermiones lips and whispered. "Don´t pass on. That´s my
surprise for you. I´ve ordered to fill it into the probe bottles in the morning. Did he drink it? Therewith he's out of action until the next morning. Great, isn't it?"
Helen beamed with pride all across her face and a bell-like, high and clear , cheery little-girl-laugh leaked out of her mouth. Her face became covered by a slight red, hunched her shoulders, clasped her hands in front of her chest and appeared like a little child, who just had painted a picture for his mother and now awaited a joyful compliment.
„Erm… thank you." The confused Hermione heard herself answering from far away. Helen snickered happily and attended herself back to the potions, while she ventilated her surprise to Hermione with a portentous mien.
"You know, I was simply worried about you. You…alone with him… As he was so apathic the whole time, then that was still possible. But now, since he's awake for such a long time… you know." Helen, an ampoule in the one hand and a pipette in the other one, straightened up for a short while, to look honestly anxious into Hermiones brown eyes. "I´ve heard so many things about him…"
Fast she bent forward again, above the table and started to drip a bluish substance out of the big ampoule into a yet empty, smaller ampoule. Thereafter she added without the pipette a few spatters of a green liquid, and accomplished sounding unselfconscious again. "You can give it to him every day, if you like. I've checked the quantity. I can give you some bottles to take away, right now. Must not be taken out of the hospital of course, and…" waggishly giggling, Helen added a wagging forefinger. "You´re also not allowed to taste it. But you can give it to him. Do you want some to takeaway?"
"Yes, sure." Hermione tried to sound honestly enthusiastic. „But isn't it dangerous to him? What is it?"
„Morphia." Helen reported proudly, shrugged jollily buzzing her shoulders, as she shook the screwed down ampoule like a bartender around.
"I say!" she placated with a throwaway gesture. "He's fine. He's just totally spaced out. Tss…that we hadn't hit in it earlier." the charge nurse added with a friendly smile, unbelievingly shacking her head about her own lack of ideas.
Hermione received five further bottles, Helen pressed into her arms, with a tantalised smile. "I´m leaving today a bit earlier. Already at 14 o´Clock. Won't we go out for some pizza together?" the obviously good-humoured witch fluted. Hermione nodded unsure and found simply no words for what was going on in her head.
Helen beamed. „Great, I´m glad. See you later." Looking like a waitress in a restaurant, Helen raised a big tablet, on that she let float the just filled one, accompanied from 50 other marked with names Ampulla's, turned around to the door and vanished with a last wave out of Hermiones sight.
This one stood unsurely back. How much time till 14h? A peek to a tick beside her… half an hour. Fast, without considering any longer, Hermiones rushed back to the cellar.
She felt hollowly and empty as she stood in Voldemorts room again. Sure, Helen did her a favour, was worried about her, treated her kindly, always helped her… They would go out for lunch in a few minutes…
As fast as she was able to do she took the packing list from the trolley, checked, like every day, if everything was still on the trolley that she'd put upon this morning and marked off all the things she found, carefully.
But her glance glided back to her patient over and over again. He was still captured in his druggy state. On and off, he gave a soft moaning out, still he regarded his environment not in the slightest.
After she'd done the checking, she approached with upraised wand to his bed, to lay the bans back on him again.
Put out of action until the next morning… Helen's words lingered on strangely threatening inside her mind.
He said something. Quite softly…trough his noisy, rattling breathing and the animal-like moaning, she heard some words. Spells…his hand seemed to seek for the wand, which had been a implicitness to him for such a long time. She listened closer…didn't know them. Just chimeras and figments, but yet…he might remembered that at the moment.
Hermione wanted to slap him into his face, to get him a bit more awake. Wanted to wake him up, just he could see her leaving, to let him know that she was already gone.
But her hands didn't hit hardly but carefully and gently on his face, as she, without even wanting it, fondled him with the back of her own small hand goodbye… and went out. Without bans…until the next morning.
xXx
The scenery changed entirely. Instead of cold, caged, dark and quiet, they now sat in a sun-drenched, green backyard of a well-attended pizzeria, two downright indecently big, evocation of car tyres, pizzas in front of them, which scented so temptation that they even made the mouth of the passers-by across the street water. And they tasted even better…
Helen shovelled herself appreciatively one cut off piece after another of the pizza into her mouth, paused shortly to look at Hermione radiant with joy and to refill herself with some more pumpkin juice, then she couldn't held herself back and lunged at her lunch again. It also tasted good to Hermione, but the sight of the friendly Helen was so strange, when she thought on her Patient in the hospital at the same time. What kind of a present Helen had made her?
It was well-meant, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to feel honest joy nevertheless. She ate very slowly, bit for bit, while she thought of her "child", who lay alone in the cellar and had to live on sandwiches and venomed potions.
After Helen had finished her meal and eructed bashfully, she let herself sink backwards on her chair with pleasure, and sucked the sun-light, raying into her face, in. She spread her arms, lay them behind her neck, so that she could bent herself back even further.
Hermione ate silently, quietly and bolt-upright the rest of her pizza. The sunlight that warmed up Helen, she didn't feel it.
But then Helen let herself fell forward, as if she'd been jostled from behind, her upper body flew on the table and managed it in the last second to support herself with her elbows. "Let's talk." said the older one, now more serious, without laughter-lines which had become so familiar to Hermione. "…about him. You're a good friend of Harry Potter, aren't you? I've read about you in the paper. Isn't it strange to you, what you of all people must take care of him?" Hermione nodded agreeing, a nod which was returned by Helen, as she took a deep breath and spoke on. "You've chased him , haven't you?" Hermione blushed a little at the thought of being recognised from an article in the daily prophet, but she nodded and a shy smile hushed across her face.
Helen did not smile, appeared tensed in a curious manner. The tension was not only inside of Helen, the while air seemed to be charged about that, Helen wanted to say now. A topic, that appeared to be unendingly hard for her, she first had to fumble for words before she was able to speak about the unspeakable.
"He'd tortured me, you know?" it suddenly burst out of her. Hermione winced appalled, she'd expected many things, but not that. "He? But…why? When… how?", the younger one concerned, unable to receive that message.
Helen´s head sunk downwards and her eyes rested on her folded hands in front her on the table. "My Husband…" she had to gulp, before she was able to speak on. "He is a…was…he was on of Scrimgours secretaries, and, regrettably , an excellent occlumens. The death-eaters abducted him one day, after his work. He should betray them a way to the minister. But he…didn´t want to talk. He did not want to help Lord Vo…you-know-who to come into power. He might had thought to himself that his own death was the lesser evil than the death of all those people, who would die if you-know-how should come to power."
Hermione was deeply aghast and took Helens hand and fondled it gently, while Helen went on spoke on tantalised, as if every word on her tounge she had to say would cause her pain. "But he didn´t kill him…not then. No, he captured us. Me and…" Helen sobbed and Hermione knew at the beginning of the sentence, how it would end. "our both children. A boy of seven years and a nine year old girl. He forced him watch us being tortured. My Husband… he was a good man. He couldn't stand, seeing us having pains… me and the children. So he told you-know-who rather fast everything he wanted to know."
Helen sobbed grateful for Hermione holding and fondling her hand, and whipped the tears out of her face with her free hand and . "But he was angry. You-know-who. He knew not enough and the questioning took him to much time. He hadn´t shouted, you know, he talked quite reasonable and gentle and said so harrowing things at the same time."
Hermione understood this so very well, how familiar that was to her. She stood up and sat herself directly next to Helen, lay her arm consoling on the shoulder of the shivering women, who had to force herself with all her strength to continue. "He had this snake. Nagini was the name, I guess.
He was so angry because my husband was not as useful as he'd been hoping, And as a punishment him showed him, how our children were eaten by his snake. And then… he sent him out to decoy the minister. Otherwise I would be the next one to be eaten by the snake."
Helen whimpered tantalised and so sad, Hermione barley could take to hear so much suffering without being able to help. "And he did so. He brought the Minister to him but then… he killed them both. Some Aurors who were out to rescure Scrimgour have found and rescued me… but my husband and the Scrimgour were already dead, so i was the only survivor."
Helen went pale, nearly as pale as Voldemort was, she didn't cry any more, but the corners of her mouth still tremored as she went on, interminably bitter and angry, than she looked straight in Hermiones eyes again, she appeared to be transmuted into a very old women. "Last week I had to go to him…the first time since he is awake. I had to take a blood sample from him… and you know what? He had absolutely no clue who I am."
Helen banged angrily with her fist on the table. "I was a whole week in that dungeon. He´d killed my husband and my children. My purpose of life. That's not even nine month ago, but he had forgotten everything. Didn't know me."
Helen crossed the arms so closed to her chest, as if she tried to asphyxiate herself. "Claris is right. Claris two adult sons were Aurors by the way… he killed them too. Claris always says, that he'd erased so many human life's that he has no clue who he has already killed and who not. Is not able to distinguish his victims… And Claris is right about that." Helen finished her confession to Hermione with a corroborating nod, and Hermione replied this gesture, everyone of them knew, that the both women had been right.
"Do you know why we have a scarcity of healers?" Helen asked with unmistakable cynicism
in the voice. Hermione shrugged uncertainly, what was answered by an enraged glaring eyes of the blonde. "Because he'd also killed ten of them. Some death-eaters were injured, so he has abducted healers. Yes, and they had to die so they couldn't betrayal anything. But stupid…" commented the increasingly bitterer sounding women „Now nobody has time for him. We couldn't hire enough new healers in such short time. Well, bad luck. Right?"
So sad to find words, Hermione lay her arm anew about Helen, bent aside to her and leaned her own, no so hurting, head on Helens warm, but wet with tears, cheek and fondled her hands. There were no words to express what she was feeling now.
Poor Helen, how unjustly she'd been thinking about her. Probably about Claris to. Ever and ever again, since her first day, she hadn't understood why the nurses took so much pain to humble the former dark lord. Particularly the dear, likeable Helen. Why could she approve those things? How often she felt a knot in her stomach when she looked at the weak, almost starved man and had seen Helen thereafter.
But did he deserve something else? Could anyone expect something else than that from Helen or Claris? How could anyone demand that these women treated the monster, he didn't even deem it necessary to remember his victims, even rudimentary humane?
These Healers who'd never cared for him during their walk rounds… they'd lost their colleagues
Escaped their killing just by an lucky accident. Their killing by him. And now all those crimes came back to haunt him.
Stabs to death by the sword.
And he did not even grasp it. Not only, that he in the slightest didn't seem to grasp that he'd done something wrong, no… he would not understand what Helen said to Hermione, because he simply could not remember his doings.
He didn't knew what he'd done to Helen, because he didn't know her. He'd probably tortured hundreds of other peoples in these days… and even more had been killed by his death-eaters… in his order. No…too many to distinguish them.
Hermione cried silently together with Helen, still sitting in the warm sunshine, she couldn't comprehend how one man could be so cold. What about her own parents? As he told her the address of her parents…he wanted to abduct and kill them too. If the battle at Hogwarts had been only a few days later…her parents would have become a dinner for the now beheaded Nagini too.
And what did she do? Pampered that beast like a little child and shepherded him. Played with him cards, held hands with him and worst of all, she'd permitted, that he leaded her during the lessons, he offered so willingly to her, into his evil mind.
Helen grasped her hand and her words intruded pleading on Hermione, while she whispered adjuratory to the younger one. "You won't forget what he had done, will you?"
Hermione shook her head. „No Helen, I won't forget it."
„And you won't feel pity for him, no matter how much he's whining? You´ll think of all the deaths?"
Iron chains tightened painfully around Hermiones breast, squeezed the air off her lunges. "Yes Helen, I will think of them."
The blond witch breathed a sight of relief , fondled Hermiones cheek and gave her a soft kiss and her hand, she was still holding. "Thank you Hermione. That is no man, that is no human being at all. That is just a bloodthirsty monster and soul will see to it, that he gets what he deserves . Won't you?"
The brunet swallowed, tried to swallow the bitter taste of these words, tried to console the former mother. "Yes Helen, he shall get what he deserves."
A very familiar fight broke out inside Hermione. He, Lord Voldemort, the mass-murderer. One had to kill him. But she lost the relation to his doing on the daily contact with him.
Dumbledore, Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Cedric, Snape, Mad-Eye, Harry's parents…and innumerable others. He didn't even deem it necessary to think of his turpitudes.
But yet, nevertheless… did really nothing human remain in him? The way she saw him every day…he almost appeared like a normal man. Was really everything inside this heart, inside this crippled soul, rotten? Wasn't it a betrayal of his victims, if she tried to make him remorseful? If she simply dealt with him?
Hermione replayed Helen's kiss on the shoulder, she leaned on. If this gruesome time were finally over…
xXx
That day, to the first time in her life, Hermione Granger decided it would be better not to think. So she sneaked back in the hospital cellar, after she'd left Helen. The excuse, she had forgotten something in the locker, was accepted unprejudicedly. So one of Helens special bottles left the hospital and got a way into Hermiones room in the leaky cauldron.
He, the monster, had almost emptied the bottle. That was too much…but maybe only one or two gulps? She could try it… and shortly after, Hermione was surrounded by a heavenly nothing inside her mind. No cogitations, no sorrows, no pains…until the next morning.
Reviews?I really like to know what you people think about Helen