Obliviate
Chapter Two
Hermione soon became very dizzy from the speed of her Lord's pace as he carried her up the winding staircase. Her body barely bobbed with each step he took, making her feel like she was drifting upon a darkly clad, ruby-eyed cloud. Hermione inhaled sharply as the dungeon door flew open before they reached it, as if an invisible wind had forced its way through.
And, all of a sudden, her world changed. The cold, dreary cell where she had awoken morphed into light and warmth. Torches lined the dark marble wall, illuminating every inch of the vast corridor. The floor was covered with a lush, red velvet rug that spanned the entire length of the hallway. As they traveled down the hallway, Hermione began to notice many paintings of fair-haired, sneering men and women. They almost appeared to move in the swaying torchlight.
One portrait in particular, perhaps for its uniqueness, unnerved Hermione above the others. An elderly man with long, ghost white hair and near pointed teeth glared down at her. His skin had an eerie, greenish tint to it, and was covered in deep pockmarks.
"Were these real people?" Hermione asked faintly, unable to take her eyes away from the horrible, greenish, old man.
"Once." He glanced down at the young woman in his arms and frowned at her obvious alarm. "But all have long since been deceased." Hermione nodded, grateful that they had passed the frightening man.
"Do not fear them, my dear. They have their scowls, but I have seen to it that they no longer have their voices." He smirked, looking pleased with himself. Hermione wasn't sure exactly what he meant, but couldn't help feeling reassured.
Out of all the ferocious looking portraits, not one of them looked quite as strange as her Lord, not even the green skinned man. What does a face really matter, if it protects me? Hermione looked up at his pale face, not a trace of aggression in his peculiar eyes.
"My Lord, is it normal to have red eyes?" Hermione didn't think so, but she wasn't going to judge all humans by these vicious portraits. She wanted her assumptions verified.
"Not in the slightest." Hermione pursed her lips. "Why are your eyes red then? They look far too dark to be merely bloodshot." Her Lord shook his head in amusement.
"Correct, my dear. We will talk about this another day." Hermione grumbled at his dismissal. She didn't want to wait for answers. They kept walking down the seemingly endless corridor; with each step, the torches, and thankfully, the paintings becoming more and more sparse. But something itched at the back of her mind. There is something else off about them. Without saying a word she reached up to his face and stroked the area between his eyes and mouth.
"What is it, Hermione?" Her Lord asked brusquely. Still silent, Hermione moved her hand to her own face, and gasped.
"I have a...nose...too," she said more to herself than her companion. "So, you are the anomaly in all respects," Hermione said blankly to the man holding her.
"Yes, I am."He didn't seem to take it as an insult at all, quite the opposite in fact. He had that smug look about him again. Hermione opened her mouth to ask another question, but her Lord cut her off before she said a word.
"Once again, on another day, we will discuss my nostrils." As if on cue, he sniffed. "We are here."
They had reached the end of the corridor. A huge, ominous, wooden door towered to the ceiling, as if daring anyone to enter. Hermione was abruptly brought to her feet as her Lord placed her none too gently on the ground. I'm lucky I didn't fall, Hermione groused, steadying herself on the floor. She looked to her Lord, who was tapping at the door with a large, silver snake knocker. After three dull 'thuds,' the door creaked open, sending a rumble through the floor from its heavy weight. Hermione expected it to take a while to open, due to its immense size, but in a few short seconds it was completely open.
The hallway behind the door was more brightly lit than the one Hermione stood in now, and she wasted no time lingering on the darker side. I've had enough of the dark for a while, Hermione thought with a cheery smile. As soon as she and her Lord had passed through, the door closed, quiet as the flickering torchlight.
"This," her Lord gestured, "is your home." Hermione laughed out loud in delight. Finally, I'm home! This hallway was much narrower than the immense one she had been carried through, but she liked it better this way. She didn't feel nearly as lost.
"You will never leave this wing without my permission, Hermione." She frowned at that, slowly turning to face her Lord.
"Why? I don't like the idea of being confined at all,"Hermione emphasized, putting her hands on her hips. Her Lord began to laugh at once.
"That's not funny! You can't keep me here!" she shouted at him, her voice rising higher than she had intended it to. He didn't think that was very funny, however. Her Lord immediately stopped laughing. He slowly walked over to her, slowly enough for Hermione to see the rage blazing in his eyes. She took a step back, not wanting to be near that anger again, especially if it was directed at her.
"I can," he hissed, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him, "and believe me, I will keep you here if you so happen to wander astray. For your sake, I hope it will not come to that." He pressed a thumb against her lips that forced her to stay quiet. "Do not trifle with a Lord such as myself, you foolish girl."
However afraid Hermione was of her Lord in that moment, her own anger at being treated so subserviently blinded her reason. Hermione bit down on his thumb, hard enough to make him recoil, but not enough to bleed.
"How is it that a Lord, of such grand prestige as yours, doesn't even have a name?" Hermione growled, pointing a finger at his chest. The second the words left her mouth, her rage chilled to the cold realization of what she had done. Hermione ducked her head and stared open mouthed at the floor.
"Hermione." She didn't even dare to look up. A long, pale finger lifted her head. Hermione didn't know what he was going to do. Would he strike me? She closed her eyes, preparing for the pain.
"Great Salazar girl, I'm not going to hit you." What? He's not? I-I don't believe-
"What's a Salazar?" Hermione burst out, on the verge of tears. Her Lord chuckled at her.
"There's my Hermione. Before your little tantrum," she winced, "I was going to mention that you have everything you could possibly want in this wing, even a library." Hermione's face lit up. Instinct was telling her that this was a very, very good thing.
"I will take you to the library, where you can read as much as you want about Salazar," Hermione rubbed her hands together with excitement, "after you have taken a bath." Hermione coughed.
"I'm perfectly clean, thank you very much," she asserted. "You can take me to the library right now then, seeing as I don't smell or anything."
"I don't believe I said anything about you smelling odiously. I merely think you would find a bath very relaxing." Hermione quirked her head at him.
"I am perfectly relaxed." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is there a double motive here?"
He smirked at her. "Absolutely. Your clothes are rather atrocious. They are unsuitable for a ward of this Lord to wear." Hermione glanced down at her clothes. They looked more like rags than anything else, and the majority of the fabric was blood soaked and ripped. She looked to her Lord.
"I see your point. I'll take the bath, but mind you, it will be quick!" Hermione wanted no time wasted. Her mind had literally been wiped blank, much like a book without words, and she wanted to start filling those empty pages as soon as possible.
"Take as long or as quickly as you want, it does not matter. " He began to walk down the hallway. "Come, Hermione. I will show you to your room."
She had to hurry to keep pace with him. He was much taller than she was, and his steps were her leaps. Hermione followed him up a curving white marble staircase, and then to the end of the corridor.
Double oak doors guarded her bedroom, but Hermione didn't get a chance to open them before they swung open, much like the door to the dungeon had. Hermione stepped in and looked around.
"My Lord, I haven't stayed in this room before, have I?" The room was large, very large and completely empty. There was a stone fireplace facing a dark blue canopy, which hid what looked like a decent sized bed. Apart from that, there was a table with a waning candlestick, a large window covered by drapes, and a dresser.
"Correct again, Hermione. I have moved you to this solitary wing, where no one can disturb you. The only personal items you cared for were books. And we both know where those can be found." Her desire to read as much as she could intensified with his words. The Hermione she once was, and would likely never remember, loved to read. She smiled sadly. No wonder she felt such a longing.
"The door to the bath is right over here." He crossed the room over to the dresser, beckoning Hermione to follow. As Hermione approached the dresser, she noticed how very odd it was. There were about twenty differently shaped knobs, none of them the same color. Each knob had a drawer, all of varying sizes. A small golden sphere looked to hold one third of the dresser, while an oversized red rose had maybe six centimeters of space.
"What is the reason for all of these?" She reached for a light blue spiral knob, but her Lord swatted her hand away.
"For now, only concern yourself with this one." He pointed toward the golden sphere. "Once you have taken your bath, you will find everything you need in that drawer."
Behind where her Lord stood was yet another door, one that she hadn't noticed because he had been standing directly in front of it. He pushed the door open, which by now surprised Hermione more than the doors that flew open for him.
Hermione had not wanted to take a bath before, but that changed as she entered the most elegant bathroom she had ever been in. Well, obviously, she snorted. The entire bathroom was white marble and very well lit, thanks to a small gold chandelier. To her left was a round bathtub with dozens of faucets, not unlike the dresser. There was also a toilet, a sink, and -
"Is that me?" Straight across from her was a reflection of the room and her Lord. Next to him was a much shorter young woman with long, very tangled dark brown hair. Her face was pale, although it didn't seem that way compared to the man next to her. Her Lord had been under exaggerating when he told Hermione that her clothes were "rather atrocious." Seeing them in their mangled, bloody, entirety, Hermione wanted nothing more than to get them off her body, scrub herself raw, and burn the offending material.
"Clearly." Hermione ignored his sarcasm and stepped closer to the mirror. Brown eyes watched her as she raised her left hand, her image raising the opposite. Hermione put a hand on her cheek, slowly rubbing off some dry blood, watching the mirror self do the same. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not.
"If we're done admiring ourselves," Couldn't hold it in any longer, could you? "I will show you how to draw a bath." And I will take one, but I can't make everything easy for you.
"Of course, My Lord." She beamed at him. He sighed.
"You'll take the bath whether you want to or not, but I am in no mood for getting splashed." Hermione's cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much, but she held it. "What is your ultimatum?"
"I will take the bath, willingly and gladly, if you tell me your name." Her Lord scanned her face, deciding if she was serious or not. "And you won't get a drop on you."
After a millisecond of deliberation, he replied,
"Very well." His lips turned upward for a moment before returning to indifference. "Never lose a battle without gaining something in return, very good Hermione." It's hardly that important, she thought, looking with interest at her Lord. He raised a lazy hand to the faucets.
"The gold faucet is for hot water, the silver for cold. The rest are up to you to figure out. I trust you won't drown." He simply turned and walked out of the bathroom after that. Hermione shrugged. She tinkered with the many faucets for a few minutes before deciding on hot, lavender bubbled bath. Once it was prepared, Hermione literally ripped her tattered clothes off and dived in the tub.
Bliss.
She floated on the sweet, lilac scented bubbles. Lying on her back with closed eyes, Hermione fantasized that she had memories.
True to her word, Hermione didn't spend more than ten minutes in that paradise. As strong of a lure it was to bathe her day away, the library had an ever greater pull. She reluctantly stepped out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor.
"Oh no," Hermione muttered to herself. She felt guilty about making such a mess. "My Lord, I accidentally, ah, well, there's a bit of a mess in here." Hermione didn't know what else to do but to call out to him. She barely had any time to worry about her mess when her Lord was back.
"I'm so sorry, my Lord, I wasn't thinking and - " Hermione stopped suddenly. Her Lord didn't appear to be paying attention to the pool of water on the ground. He was looking a bit higher up, and his eyes were dark with a strange desire.
"Under typical circumstances," her Lord gave her a blatant look over and leered, "young women do not display their...charms...in the presence of a man." Hermione's cheeks turned bright pink at his casual remark. She hurriedly flung an arm over her breasts and attempted to cover her pubic hair, but her attempt was cut short by a small chuckle.
"Too little, too late, dear Hermione," he taunted, his amusement deepening Hermione's blush. Thanks for pointing it out, she thought icily. At least I'm not in front of the mirror. She tightened her arms around her nude body and turned her head away from him, not wanting to see his derisive grin. Hermione tensed for his impending barb, willing herself to not let his teasing get to her.
"Here." She turned back to him, surprised by the gentleness in his tone. He held a cream colored towel in his large hands and slowly presented it to her. Hermione gave him a soft smile, momentarily forgetting his taunts, before snatching the towel and wrapping it securely around her body in a matter of seconds.
"Now, isn't that better?" Her Lord crooned, reaching out to stroke her wet hair. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, although not moving her head away from his touch.
"It's certainly not your fault you can't remember even simple modesty." He untangled a wet curl and patted her cheek sympathetically. "But, you are very fortunate that it was I, not some disgusting cretin," he spat, "that found you at such a vulnerable moment. Most would have taken...advantage of you." Hermione grimaced and held back a shudder. He's right. No matter the embarrassment, at least I'm in no danger with him. "Are you now beginning to understand why I cannot let you leave this wing?"
Hermione sighed. "Yes, I suppose I am." She reluctantly agreed. "At least, I have a library to keep me from getting bored to tears," she mumbled grumpily. "You will show me soon, won't you?"
"Of course." He grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But before I do, you will change into something a bit more appropriate, my dear." Her Lord pushed her lightly toward the open door to her room. "I will remain here until you are decent." Remembering that she was indeed quite naked under the towel, she dashed away from him. Hermione had made it to her room and had almost closed the door by the time she remembered their agreement.
"My Lord?" Hermione quietly asked him through the doorway. He raised a nonchalant eyebrow and crossed his arms, giving the impression of being quite bored.
"Yes, Hermione?" She gritted her teeth at his deliberately slow drawl. Honestly! I swear he irritates me just for the fun of it.
"What is your name?"
Now that brought him out of his feigned apathy almost how short of a time she had known him, she had never seen such intensity, not even in anger, behind those red eyes. Hermione shivered, but kept eye contact. A moment passed, and the intensity faded. Her Lord smiled.
"I am Lord Voldemort."