Formerly; ViperVegeta: Thanx… i think this pairing is really sick in some way. But it fitted perfectly to express what I wanted to say, or.. well, my message. Because Voldemort is so evil and Hermione is so… good. I think even more kind-hearted as Dumbledore.
Brainstorm1001: Thanx… i kind of liked the kiss too.
All: Sorry, I'm such a impatiently person. I´ll update the beta version as soon as possible.
Explaining:
Dissociation: It describes a state of mind where the "I" faces existence- threatening (in this case, existence-destroying) dangers. The person splits itself off from reality. The psyche tries to protect the persons from impression he/she wouldn't be able to bear. The person opt out from the world around, appears numb, apathetic, is not responsive . A disconnection from the self.
The at the beginning remarked Stupor is a possible way to dissociate, but not the only one. There are milder and harder kinds (for example, catatonic numbness). A way to safe the "I" from the psychological (and corporal) death. If the psyche is not able to safe the persons mind, the persons freak out and lose it.
That's not really the same like repression. But that's not so important now. Important is:
It's a sign of serious psychologicalstress. Such states could be watched during rapes, they come and go by abuse-victims or at concentration camps. The pretend threat to the own existence is more as the psyche can stand at this moment. So the persons… splits off.
Chapter 19: September… or the fear of death
Till the end of August Hermione felt, that she and her patient got an pretty well with each other. His reaction on her suggestions, doings and talk-topics were halfway assessable.
His manner was cold and he controlled himself, but he always agreed to discuss with her about magical questions, charms or to explain books to her. But they also talked pretty much about everything, besides that and so. So Hermione thought that they somehow reached a point where they accepted each other, at least.
It wouldn't really be right to call their relationship a friendship, but yet Hermione thought it was more reasonable to do so.
Her enemy, patient, prisoner, child, master, friend… so many ways to look at him. Of course there was still another way to see him left, but this last opportunity was so risky and felt so dangerous, that Hermione kept on forbidding herself to think about this last, possible kind of thinking about him.
However, the whole situation for Hermione and her… - whatever- changed totally in late summer.
Probably it started before, but it was the first time Hermione really recognized the changing in his behaviour. It was a Saturday and although Hermione had surely told her patient five times or more that she had to leave him earlier that day because she and Ron had arranged something for the afternoon, he insisted to teach her a particularly difficult transfiguration charm. He alleged empathically, that those things were certainly asked in the N.E.W.T.s.
Hermione was tiered and sweated and all she wanted was to go home and to take a shower. Ron already waited for her in the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione was dutiful and hungry for knowledge, but that Saturday she'd preferred to go with Ron to the park. But her patient managed to hold her a whole hour more as usual back with his explanations.
The Clash with Ron was inevitable.
The following Monday was the first day, Voldemort didn't want to read the newspaper. He also refused to read it on Tuesday and Wednesday and explained Hermione on Thursday, that she shouldn't to bye it anymore. Nonsense, because she´d subscribed to the daily prophet anyway.
After he told her that, he didn't want to hear or know anything about Hermione's books anymore. Although he'd talked in the past with her about school questions rather voluntary, those topics were now a downright reason for explosively fits of rage. They both knew, that Hermione actually should have been back to Hogwarts again. But after a very long, personal Mail to Professor McGonagall she got the allowness to do the first weeks in a home-study.
Hermione's whole school-life became more and more a No-go Topic. Every time he heard just the slightest word about books or school, he started to shout at her with an animal-like ghastly face and accused her, that she seemingly couldn't even await his death. Because Hermione was able to go back to school when he died. They both knew that, no need to sugar-coat this.
Her friends were even under normal circumstances a critical topic, but now every remark on Harry, Ginny or, socially Ron, was immediately shouted down. The one minute calm, the next he exploded like a volcano if only one of these hated names fell casually.
Ron came always up with new allegations because she hadn't resigned yet and he had to sit alone in Hogwarts.
It took Hermione a few days till she got it. The fear of death crept inside him. No one had told him yet, when his trial would start, even though yon was certainly thoroughly prepared for since months.
He knew, that the trial ought to take just a few days and that he should be executed very short after it ended. He didn't know, if he would be allowed to come back to his hospital-trial after the judgment or if they would lead him right after the last trial day to Death Chamber. Nobody told him anything.
And also he asked Hermione for a hundred times a day, Hermione wasn't able to reply anything but the trial should start somehow in the end of September or early October. Of course she'd tried more than once to interrogate the Aurors, but hopeless, they were prohibited to comment the proceeding.
Voldemort became more restless with every further day. He straggled like a tiger hour for hour around Hermione. Unable to stand only three minutes on the same place. Sometimes Hermione almost believed that she discovered deepening's on the floor because he used to walk endlessly on the same way through the room
The room wasn't particularly small, but more and more it appeared to both of them so tight, as if they were captured together in a matchbox. The walls, Tom Riddle wailed with madness in the eyes and panic in the voice, would crush him and he wouldn't be able to breath because of the tightness.
Always the same four walls and an increasingly more galled getting Voldemort who kept on complaining about shortness of breath, let the frightening feeling of claustrophobia raise inside Hermione. How disburdening it was, when she was allowed to leave this torture chamber after her daily end of work.
Rons jealousy knew no limit as he realised how worried Hermione was about her fosterling. But of course he did not know how sure it was, that Hermione would leave the hospital in early October.
Nevertheless, his jealousy hadn't had so less reason for a long time as now. In the last weeks erotically touches and little kisses happened on and off, which passed the limit of innocence a little. But that was over know. Hermione could have lain herself on his stomach and wouldn't had caused such bodily reaction which had occurred if she'd just touched his neck with her finger tips for a massage.
But every time Hermione now put her arms around him, it was completely innocent. Her fosterling searched nothing but comfort in her arms because every other thought than the overpowering fear of death was banned from his mind.
Hermione's perturbed patient didn't want to let her go again. Every day he seemed to seek for new excused to make her stay longer with him, to keep her on his side, always in panic that they would take him away, then he was alone.
It got worse every day, because every day it got more probable, that he would one would come for him. When finally no new excuse why Hermione's shouldn't go home occurred to his mind, he sank dull brooding on his chair and stared motionless to the hated door.
When the tomcat was there, he sat on this chair for hours, stared sombrely into the emptiness and caressed the cat on his lap. But once, the tomcat was jumped from him because he tried to catch a fly. 15 minutes later he the completely apathetically appearing man still caressed his knee. Hadn't realised, that the cat wasn't there anymore.
After Hermione „woke him up" he forced her to promise him that she would take care for the tomcat from October on… He didn't make it to speak his own death out, but Hermione understood and agreed immediately.
But Ron, her other life, didn't express much enthusiasm on these adoption-outlooks. He didn't like Crookshanks and the outlook on a further tomcat which Hermione wanted to bring with her to Hogwarts made him feel unpleasant. And why? The cat of this prisoner didn't regard Hermione, Ron reproached her. Why should she take that creature away? The prisoner should keep it on.
But the red-haired man didn't know that the "owner" of the cat wouldn't survive October.
It took months till Hermione managed to get away from her "child" point of view. Till she accomplished seeing her prisoner not as her child. But right as she was able to perceive him as a adult man, that way to look at him was already wrong again.
The whole last months Voldemort managed it, no matter how badly off he was, to keep a certain level of dignity and might. But that was over.
When Hermione's unhappy child didn't stare at the door apathetically, he spent their common time with shouting permanent-annoyed through the room and, because he lost every day more self-control, he let one object after another which was there exploding or go up in flames. Only the walls seemed to be collapse-safe.
But not the toilette. It exploded after Hermione had forgotten to bring him new clothes that day, so he had to wear the same as yesterday.
The poor Hermione was completely fulfilled with fixing all the explosion-damages. Besides from exploding toilettes, he made the mineral water cook in its bottle, let the pumpkin juice bottles explode, melted the iron stand of the bathtub and the hands of the clock at the wall rotated like a ventilator. He lost any control pf his powers.
Instead of took turn in breaking his both wrist to twenty-five times and his feet and sundry toes to sixteen-times, because he'd boxed against the wall with rage.
Hermione mastered the Skele-Gro and Bone-heal-charms perfectly from then on. Oh right, and he keeled over fainting to ten times because he hyperventilated during his choleric fits.
Totally helpless how to behave toward the irritable Lord she seemed to do everything wrong. She truly tried to take care for him, as thanks he yelled at her and threw heavy objects at her, resisted vehement being pampered like an infant. He seemed that it took all his lost self-control to hold himself off from battering her. But a few black eyes passed on the way.
When Hermione then, completely frightened and in tears, wanted to escape, he immediately run after her, wailing thousands of apologises and blocked the door. He begged and pleaded, she shouldn´t be mad at him, he would be sorry for everything would under no circumstanced want to be left alone, because he would need her. So Hermione started again to shepherded him, which evocated the protest of the adult one again.
One might have felt sorry for him, if he hadn't been so threatening, virtually life-endangering.
From time to time Hermione really caught herself by thinking "die faster". Every day it became more tormenting. But the man was broken anyway.
Hermione was so angry with Tom Riddle. She didn't want to have him that way. He should be mightful, powerful so she could adore his skills, so she could think of him with a smile on her lips, when she fell asleep. And If that wasn't possible, then he should be at least and intimidating. That was the way she wanted to have him, she knew him like that. But he should sit huddled on the floor, moaning like a mantra, that he wouldn't want to die.
Sometimes Hermione insulted him screaming and jostled him, because it was so hard to bear, seeing him that miserably and because Hermione felt too, as if she would go crazy it was easier to be angry with him than admitting, that she would really loose him.
But the most time she managed to bottle all her fears up inside. Perhaps she'd got even better, if she hadn't had to go with headache into her bed, every night.
Ron made with every of his visits and in every owl post clear to her, that he was jealous and he accused Hermione having a love affair with her patient, who needed increasingly more encouragement day after day.
But Ron, he didn't know what it was like to hold an adult man, the enemy, like an infant in the arms for hours and to stroke his head, because he broke down after a panic attack and wasn't able to get up again with fear. Just to get bucket thrown at her head, he had to vomit, as she told him, she had to go in her weekend now.
The stress robbed Hermione all the strength she'd needed for her daily life. More and more she got hysterically herself.
Once in a supermarket, she broke out in tears, because her favourite jam-sort was sold out. A shop assistant, who asked her worried if he could help her, got full tilt kick at his shinbone.
One time, she beat Ron's nose bloody, as he blamed her for her irritated mood in the last time. He nearly dropped her, but got becalmed by Hermione's honestly cried apologises.
Sometime he remembered Helens morphia attack, wherefore he refused to take anything Hermione got from the hospital from that day on. He didn't even want to drink mineral water, if it wasn't bought from a shop outside ´s. Then he imagined that Hermione might wanted to poison him, to get faster to her friends again. From that day on, she had to initial cost all the things she brought along.
A few days later, he didn't want to eat anything at all. Hours-long, the unutterably overchallanged Hermione talked with tongues of angels at the anyway thin man, for eating al least a few bits or choking a bit water.
Pity! She came up with such good new ideas. Playing-Dating for example. Hermione drew them two chairs and a lovely, little, white round chair, which was decorated with a specially therefore bought apricot-coloured table-cloth and two admittedly less noble hospital-plates. She even thought of burning candles, which were attentively draped between the with Chinese food loaded plates.
Hermione was so proud of herself. All looked so lovely, smelled delicious of roasted duck, which her patient really liked. Only she shouldn't have told him, that the Chinese-restaurant in which she bought the duck was recommended to her by Harry. Dumb, of course, why she had to let slip that out of her mouth? Harry, so accused her the yelling Voldemort, whished more than any other person on the planned, that to see him dead as fast as possible, whereupon he grabbed the plates together with the duck and smashed it at the wall.
Hermione herself lost five kilos in September.
Sometimes, when he didn't want to ingest anything at all, because he sensed danger all around him, the cruel voices which lived in Hermione's mind got louder. They asked Hermione spiteful, if it wouldn't be equal if he ate something or not, because he would die anyway. He wouldn't life along enough, to die of starvation.
But such scare-ideas were blocked over and over. Hermione struggled months-long, with cockering her patient up. She wouldn't abandon the field now flightless, in order to let him die.
Even though she knew, that no other choice would be up to her, but Hermione didn't want to think of that. As long as she brought him to eat or to drink something, were was still hope left. Yet, hope of what, she couldn't tell…
The voices in her head never were silent, advised her of the suffering of the victims, over and over again. Accused her of committing betrayal, if she shepherded their murderer. Asked her, if it wouldn't make more sense if she spent her time and her energy in taking care for the ones, who deserved it. If the effort wouldn't be more worth, because that ones would survive.
Ron suggested, to go away for a few days, over Christmas. However, hadn't Hermione earned money over the last months? But as good as nothing remained from her salary, because she'd already spent the biggest part of it for the car of her fosterling.
Ron honoured this engagement with a fit jealousy fit of rage. If she was mad, to fling away her money.
Certainly it was madness. Madness or stupidity. Nothing else could be responsible for promising her prisoner, that she never wanted leave him alone. Promised him to stay with him at the trial and that nothing, under no circumstances, could hold her back, from going to him and visiting him a last time, after the trial was over.
Promised him to stay with him, to the bitter end.
After her work, Hogwarts best Student did mostly nothing else but perusing judgements. Possible ways of Revision. Plea-strategies, moderated judgements. But deep in her mind it was clear to her, that this was somehow a waste of time. The death sentence was probably already typed, signed, dated and certified.
They WANTED to kill him. That was the only reason why he was brought to the hospital at all, why they didn't let him die without much ado after the battle. They wanted to kill him in public. A medieval execution was nothing compared to that. Only the death-chamber didn't fit. Because they wanted to remove his body at the same time. They wanted to eliminate everything about him.
Otherwise they'd surely put his body into a cage, visible to everybody, to let him rot and hung him on the highest point in the ministry, where his dead body would be gnawed by hungry birds.
Well, Hermione thought bitterly, maybe they'd finally change their mind and would rather choose a guillotine instead of the death-chamber. In the centre of a marketplace at high noon. But actually that idea was much to sad to play, even polemically, with it.
Nevertheless it was a comfort to deal with legal bases. At least she could show believable proofs to her paranoid patient, that she hadn't begged Kinglsey Shackelbolt to hurry up with his death penalty.
All this bitterness would be easier to bear if this all would deal with a innocent one. If she hadn't had to admit secretly, that he'd deserved this penalty. No matter how she thought about this way punishment, she felt sympathy for all those who hated him.
But what avail was this knowledge to a bleeding hard, that was on the verge of breaking, every time her eyes were caught by the calendar? The last days… the time was almost over.
Ron sent her every day more irritated owl-mails in which he complained about Hermione's refusal to help (in other words, to write for him) him with his homework. That job would totally distract her from the real important matters.
Gryffindors most gifted witch for years had to promise to her nemesis, to come to him at exactly 10:00h every day. It was all too obvious how scared he was, every time he thought what the door would be opened. As he winced with every unexpected voice at all. More and more the whole man turned into a chivvied, scared animal.
If you have to wait for the worst, what could happen every minute, you'll certainly broke down earlier or later.
But Hermione understood it. Every time she went home in the afternoon, she did not know if he would still be there on the next day.
In the evenings Hermione stopped reading books. Instead she listened to the radio, went into Muggle-cinemas, went into Clubs, bars or into parks. Even though she was alone and didn't feel like drinking or talking with anyone. She just wanted to prevent herself from considering about anything. Wasn't it enough that she had to consider about such questions if, for example, it would make sense to bring new clothes the next day, then she lay sleepless in her bed?
The books she used to read in the afternoons didn't not afford any kind of relief to her. Hardly surprising, because her books didn't deal with magic but with condemned to death people. Books, written from authors, sitting in the death row. Books from the daily life on the verge of being killed. Read about the behaviour of the death-row inmates. They turned mad with fear in massed. The fear of death made them paranoid. Everywhere those prisoners sensed enemies and assassinations against themselves, heard voiced and dissociated.
She read about persons which were captured in death row, who went through comparable crises at the end of their life's. How they went insane, banged their heads against the wall or the floor, bit their own arms bloody, refused to eat anything, smeared excrements at the walls or fell into a stupor.
No matter how evil and terrible they've once been, now they just cried for their mothers, fathers, wife's, husbands and children to help them.
However, Hermione consoled herself, their situation wasn't quiet as bad. Although Hermione tried to calm herself with every possible lie she was able to come up with, she went increasingly more tensed with every further day.
She had barley time to see her parents. They honestly tried hard to have sympathy for Hermione's profession dedication, but they weren't able to understand why it should be impossible to her, taking a few days of to visit them. The many overtime Hermione did in the last weeks…
No that he needed them, Helen refused to give him even the mildest calmatives. No, he would get nothing from her, Helen hissed to Hermione angrily. If Hermione earnestly believed, that she were in a hotel and the nurses had nothing better to do than dealing with Mr Guest?
Helen was unutterably disappointed by Hermione trying to help her prisoner. No she became a Traitor in Helens and Claris eyes, because she dared to express her worries in her daily reports.
He being a ticking time bomb, seemed to make the two lady's downright happy.
If the dark lord should kill his caregiver in a fit of madness, that would be just the punishment for Hermione's betrayal… in Helens mind. A betrayal Hermione committed, by liking the evil thing.
So nothing else remained to Hermione, than continue watching her child going insane.
Yet, she managed to attend the Match Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. It was Saturday and she'd left him earlier.
Still she wasn't allowed to go to him on Sundays. The hospital-rules hadn't still hadn't changed, yet. For whatever reason … Tom Riddle had to stay alone on Sundays. No matter if she found dried blood spots at the wall, a he, being totally deranged, on Mondays…
But she had to wash him anyway, because he didn't managed to think of anything else than his own dead.
But maybe it wouldn't get so bad this weekend, maybe they would come for him this afternoon and take him to the ministry. Or perhaps on Sunday afternoon? Maybe he was right and they waited till she wasn't with him, to take him away. Maybe the trial would start on Monday, who could know it?
Hermione agonized over such and similar thoughts while her friends gained a glorious victory over Draco Malfoys frowning Slytherins.
Ron and Harry got rather huffed as they recognized, that Hermione was almost clueless what they were talking about, as they boasted about their tricky moves.
Instead if talking about Quidditch, Hermione irritated Harry asking the probably thousand's time, when he had to testify against those death-eaters. But Harry refused vehemently to betrayal anything. He'd got the order to tell nothing about anything. But so much was clear at least, that they'd obviously told him when, but not against who, he should testify. But anyhow, Harry seemed to enjoy keeping his secret. His revenge for Hermione's refusal to divulge the identity of her patient. Harry wasn't that authority-abiding , that he would really get intimidated by the ministry. But that was his way to pay her secretiveness back to her. She said nothing against about who, fine, so he hadn't to tell her when…
Couldn't she just tell him the truth? He, any anyone else in the magical world, would come to know the truth in a few days or weeks anything. From that point, it really made no difference if she kept her silence or not. But then he'd probably yelled at her…. Hermione used to experience hysterically fits of rage at every day on her work, was it really to much, trying to keep herself out of such things in her free-time?
The one, the trial would be conducted against, drove Hermione slowly but surely crazy, by asking her ten or more times a day if she would really come to him the next day. So agitated he was on Saturday-afternoons, so apathetically he appeared on Monday-mornings. The time he was all alone let him freeze with fear like a dead.
He almost never found sleep at night. Overtired during the day, much too panicked at night to fall asleep, he looked more than aver like a ghost. Once he tried. Once Hermione tried to ask Head nurse Claris for sleeping pills, and got, no surprise, turned down. The patient should be glad to stay awake as long as possible, Claris taunted, wouldn't he have enough time to sleep, soon?
When Ron was with her during the week-ends, when she was alone with him or they stayed with their friends, Hermione had to go through hours of silly death-eater jokes. They laughed out loudly as they spoke about Hermione's aromatherapy, teased her smirking, if the time weren't come to give her therapy attempts in.
Hermione broke down in tears…just to her Ron saying, her having changed in a very bad way over the last months. It was her nineteenth birthday.
Some when came the day, Tom, Hermione wasn't able to call him Voldemort in her mind anymore, finally broke down.
He run like a rousted chicken for about three hours at a stretch through the room and kept on claiming asserting, that the room would take him the air to breath away. Afterwards he exploded the cast iron tub, the toilette and the sink. After doing this, he imagined that Hermione was conjuring the walls closer and closer to squash him between them. So Hermione had to pace, counting her steps, across the room to show him, that not a single inch was missing and the room was as large as ever… just to hear him accusing her of plotting together with Lucius Malfoy against him, because they wanted to save Lucius from testifying at the court.
This time he was absolutely convinced, that Hermione was trying to kill him that it wasn't possible to stop him from going crazy.
Loudly yelling his white fists banged against the wall till they bled. He looked like a rabid animal as he came with wild flaming eyes closer to her, ready to stop her from anything he supposed she was doing to him.
Fortunately the tomcat wasn't with them today. Because sometimes, when he was in a really badly off, he believed that the tomcat was an animagus the ministry had sent to him to observe him.
The shouting turned into a panicked hyperventilating. A short time after, the tall man was dripping with cold sweat and collapsed weeping. Hermione was deeply aghast to see him that way. Yelling, raging, insulting…that all was familiar to her. But that…
Hermione went to him, to calm him, wanted to tell him that there was no need to be afraid of her, but just as she kneeled down to him to hug him, he jumped up, pressed her on the floor, through himself on her and suffocated her. Mad with fear she raised her wand to call for the Aurors to help her for the first time. With the strength of a madman, her pale, weak patient managed to hold her down and…wrest the wand from her.
However he achieved to take the banns away which lay on the wand, it was no use for him because in the very moment the Aurors rushed into the room, the wand gave a strong electric shock and Tom collapsed unconscious.
The four aurors heaved the thin man all together back on his bed, lamed him and helped the shivering Hermione to get up. They didn't reproach her because they seemed to think, that he'd managed to take the banns off him all by himself.
But that was finally too much to the poor Hermione. After she had to keep the silence for such a long time, she wasn't able to hold herself back anymore and confessed in tears all the things, she went through during the last month with her patient and how despaired she was herself this month.
One of them, the oldest, a tall, black man in his forty's appeared deeply concerned as he heard about the catastrophically conditions as Hermione started to work on the hospital.
He listened to her patiently, accused her of nothing as she admitted, that she'd taken the banns of him herself during the whole last months, that things went well for them in spite of this and how hard she fought for his life in the first time, to keep him alive… that she really achieved to change to situation between/for them…
Till now, since he lost his mind more and more with fear.
Ben, the black auror, nodded sympathetically sighed from time to time, narrowed his eyes and put a considering face on… till he got up again and walked upstairs to talk with the head-nurse and some other members of the hospital-staff.
Then he came done, he said that they wouldn't have to lay the banns back on him again, that Tom Riddle was allowed to get three, guaranteed unpoisoned meals a day, and that Hermione wouldn't be punished by disciplinary measures.
Moreover Ben finally brought a calmative for Riddle. Ben told to the nurses, that further nervous breakdowns would endanger the personnel's safeness.
Hermione assumed, Claris and Helen being pretty disappointed cause of that. They'd probably hoped that the hated, crazed patient would punish, or even kill his traitorously caregiver, so Hermione would get her just punishment for her betrayal. But of course they didn't admit this hope to the aurors, so they had to agree grudgingly, that a nervous wreck wouldn't be useful to the trial against him.
Tom Riddle himself felt obviously unpleasant, even embarrassed, about his breakdown. He barley dared to look at Hermione as he woke up. But, at least, let her give him the calmative without resistance. Sure he understood, how much he needed it.
As Hermione told him, that she still wanted to go to him each day, Claris even conceded to her(after Ben urged her to allow this) visiting him on Sundays and that the Aurors had agreed, that could Hermione stay with him in the hospital for the whole time, after the trial, till his execution, he flung his arms around her, wailing but grateful, like a little child.
Hermione was very kind to Hermione. He helped Hermione to enforce more humane conditions of detention against Claris and Helen. But he also decided that the aurors now didn't have to stay IN FRONT, but INSIDE his sickroom with him, for the most time. That was good in some way, because it tool the heavy burden from Hermione's shoulder, to carry the responsibility for him all alone. Everything was better than the former solitary confinement. It also gave Hermione the chance to leave him in the afternoons without the fear of might noticing new bloody spots at the wall and broken bones at him, on the following day.
Furthermore Ben arranged meetings with a psychological healer.
For Hermione!
Who accepted that unutterably grateful, because the psychological healer was bound to solitary confinement, so she finally had the possibility to speak about all those terrible things which made the last month so gruesome to her.
She even dared to tell him, how much she feared October herself, because her unhappy friend would die then.
The aurors were quiet sympathetic. Death sentences weren't usual, only a criminal like Voldemort had to get this finalest kind of punishment. Nobody knew how to deal with it. But facing the breakdown, the guards might have decided that a slight form of dignity and some help to the poor Hermione wouldn't be worse than a raging dark Lord at the trial.
Maybe it was of this reason, as they finally betrayed some details on the trial. One told the two unknowing people, that the trial would start at the first of October, should take seven, following days and that the judgement was about to be declared at the seventh of October. His execution would take place only one day later, so his dying day was October the eight.
Since the trial would be held in overlength, he would have to stay in the ministry during this week. After the judgement he they would bring him back to the hospital for a last night where he had to stay until the carrying out of the death sentence, at the next day.
Maybe it was because of the first clear words or maybe just the effect of the calmatives he got from then on three times a day, or even the realising that there was no way out for him and only a few days left, but the from then on the prisoner calmed down and managed halfway to spread his usual aura of superiority.
He ate, washed himself and spoke again. Not much, indeed but at least he listened to Hermione than she told him about her friends. He even listened as she told him about the Longbottoms upstairs in the looked spell-damage wing, told him how funny the Weasley-Twins have been, how sad she was about the death of Lupin and Tons, whose son now had to grow up as another orphan and how much SHE feared HIM in the last year, as they wanted to kill each other. Without commenting anything of course, but till then he intimidated to her, that he couldn't care less about his victims.
She also brought the tomcat along again. The worry, that he might could kill him in a fit of paranoia was gone.
On the eve of the commencement of litigation he even started to tell about the death-eaters, his died army. About their meetings, how it was like to be adored by them and little everyday history of his followers, who were dead now or probably lucky believing, being rid off him. He also told her about the exile in Albania where he, according to the circumstances, coped quiet well with his situation, but he admitted, that he'd often felt discouraged, humiliated and lonely during this years.
Certainly she was the first person who he ever told about his time in the orphanage, his outstanding grade at the Muggle-school, his fear of being insane because he was so different as the other children, who all were afraid of him and avoided him.
Conversely, Hermione told him about Dumbledores quirks, about the dreadful Professor Umbridge, told about Hagrdis weakness for "interesting creatures", whereto he could account a lot from his own memory. She told him about Wormtail who'd been the Weasleys pet for years and that he'd almost were eaten by her tomcat Crookshanks, one time. Giggling she told him about the day as the Snape-Boggart paced on the clothing of Nevielles grandmother through the staff room.
About these last two stories, he could even laugh.
Yet, she told absolutely nothing about Ron.
Tomorrow was the beginning of the trial and Hermione would have given anything to rescue her prisoner life.
Remarks to the chapter:
I know Voldemorts behaivor is rather „unvoldiish", but it's quiet similar to the behaviour of other people under comparable circumstances (death row, unwanted death is imminent ect.)
* Don't want being alone, clings on the only persons which he has, all
* uncontrolled fits of rage (added to anger on the own weakness)
* The feel of tightness, the fear of suffocating…
* The paranoia of being destroyed
* Constant panic of dying
* Dissociation, because the situation was unbearable
Some persons react with a special interested of the nether world. But since our got a foretaste Voldy of that was waiting for him at "kings cross", it's rather improbable that he would really try to take comfort in ideas of a "better world/better life".
His biggest fear, the death. He knows that's waiting for him but no one told him anything about, that's something, you might recognized it yourself, that will greaten all fears in every way. Every hour, every second…
So… be merciful and allow him to loose it.