Chapter 7


Hermione really didn't fancy spending alone time with Voldemort.

However, the very fact that he offered that option told her more about him and his plans than she liked. He was keeping her around, for whatever reason, and it was clear she would be personally interacting with him for the length of her usefulness. It was also clear he knew what curiousity did to her. If she had wanted to just have some Dark Arts book, she would have picked that. But the ability to pick at his brains that were nearly 50 years older than hers was irresistible. She had no idea about her powers, or about his plans for her, and he knew that even if it meant losing a chance to run, she wanted those answers.

So, she agreed to having him stay.

"Good choice, little one," Voldemort praised at her approval. "The best one. For that, I will allow you to dress in private; I know how you value your modesty."

He turned and strode over to the wardrobe on the side of the room. From it he fetched a set of clothes from the dresser and placed them at the end of her bed. He gave her a terrifying grin as he did so that made my tuck my entire torso under the blankets.

"I have business to attend to for the moment," Voldemort told her. "I will give you 5 minutes to put on your apparel, then I will send a friend of mine to watch over you while I'm away. I would encourage you to be on your best behavior, as she's, well, she's a little temperamental. When I return, we can discuss whatever you wish."

She bit her lip indecisively, but right before the Dark Lord left the room she called, "And will you tell me what you want? With me?"

His red eyes flashed to hers in silent excitement. "Why, Miss Granger," Voldemort purred, "I don't believe you truly want to know."

And he was gone.

Hermione stood up quickly, jumping towards the clothing. She didn't care about anything besides becoming not naked for whoever was about to come through that door. She had had nightmares since the Quidditch World Cup about the Death Eaters who walked in formation, burning everything in their path and killing indiscriminately. The last thing in the world she wanted was to present them with the temptation to take advantage of her. She threw on the undergarments without thinking, or at least trying hard not to think about how he had her size on hand for her, and moved on to the robes.

She had barely managed to put on bottoms before a resounding CRACK! hit her. She looked around, trying to find the enemy before they found her. She jumped as she felt a shifting by her feet and looked down to see a massive snake coiling around her feet.

Of course this was the friend he sent to watch her. She eyed it carefully, trying not to let the terror overcome her.

"Hello," she whispered, practically whimpered, at the snake. Its head tilted to look up at her as if it understood. "Are you v-venomous?"

She could nearly see the smile on the snake as it nodded and hissed in warning, revealing its massive fangs. There was no chance she would be running from this thing having seen those fangs. She audibly gulped.

"I, er-I want to go look at the books," she stuttered at the serpent. "May I?"

The serpent tilted its head as if thinking, then slithered from around her feet over to the bookshelves around the fire. She didn't dare refuse to follow the serpent, but she stayed by its tail-end. When the snake pointed to a specific book, Hermione moved forward carefully to take the book from its shelf. It simply read Traditions of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. She looked down at the snake head and gave it a brief glare.

"You know exactly what he wants from me, don't you?" She demanded. The snake nodded its head, but hissed a little. She wished Harry could come speak to the thing. "And he wants me to read this?" Another nod from the serpent. She sighed. "Fine. I suppose it's better than nothing."

Hermione went to sit in the opposite armchair from the one Voldemort had used earlier and curled up with her knees to her stomach. She had a feeling if she left her feet on the ground the giant serpent would curl around her legs, and the thought made her shiver. She didn't need to worry though; the snake decided that no matter where or how she sat, it would follow.

When it first began to slither onto her curled legs, Hermione looked at the snake sharply. "Do you have to?"

The single hiss was enough of an answer. Hermione tried to ignore the female serpent as it slithered onto the chair and wrapped itself around her body before putting its head on her shoulder. It was almost as if it was reading with her. It took her a long time to get comfortable, but the snake was warm around her and she found she could read well enough with the distraction.

Then, quite absentmindedly, Hermione began stroking the coil that went around her midsection. She was smooth, and her scales felt good. It actually soothed her. Before long, she had relaxed into a companionable cuddle with the bizarrely large serpent. It occasionally bumped her to remind her to turn the page, but other than that the head rested easily on her shoulder and sucked body heat from Hermione. She was strangely grateful; the fire was practically sweltering, and if the snake wasn't there Hermione would be sweating in a very unfeminine way.

She had nearly finished half of the text, and was finally understanding Draco Malfoy just a bit more, when Voldemort rolled back into the room. She heard the door open and close at his entrance. She froze, her eyes not really reading but staying fixed on the page. She expected the serpent to slither up to its master, but it simply remained with its head on her shoulder as its master moved to directly behind her.

"Is the book to your liking?" Voldemort asked, coming to the side of her vision.

She wanted to shrug, but jostling the snake didn't seem wise. Instead, she just nodded. "It's informative."

"Good."

Voldemort moved over to the other armchair and sat into his seat. The book he had on the side-table from earlier found itself once again open and in his hand. Hermione's focus was officially gone. Why wasn't he talking? What did he want? Old magics, her life, her situation, they all needed answers and he was ignoring her!

She looked towards the snake on her shoulder. It had closed its eyes as if asleep and content. At least it wasn't trying to move. Still, she didn't want to wake it.

"You left a snake with me," Hermione whispered at him.

Voldemort smirked at his text. "I'd say she performed admirably. You weren't brave enough to try to escape, and she behaved herself and didn't bite you. Actually, Nagini seems to enjoy your scent."

"Nagini?"

"It is her name."

"It's pretty."

Nagini seemed to like my response. She butted her head against Hermione's cheek happily before resting on her shoulder again. Hermione still didn't like the look of the red eyes of her master glaring at her, but she could appreciate Nagini's enjoyment of cuddling.

She looked at the Dark Lord over to her side, observing him as he read. She had been more afraid of what he would do to her while she was naked, and now that she was covered she couldn't feel as afraid of him. She wished she had been there at Harry's side when he had been reborn, just so she could feel the same repulsion she knew Harry had for him after the event. For some reason it had always felt distant to her, the horror of this being. She hadn't grown up with fearful parents who had survived the war, she hadn't yet even seen the man in person until last night, and with him sat in the chair next to her own and providing her some level of interaction, he seemed almost . . . human. She hated that she didn't fear him or hate him like everyone else did.

At least she could channel that hatred.

"You promised to answer my questions," Hermione said casually from her place.

"I did."

Hermione guessed that was the affirmation she was likely to get from him.

"You told me I didn't want to know what you had planned for me."

Voldemort turned the page of his text, his gaze never leaving the page. Probably his way of presenting himself as unapproachable as possible. "You shouldn't use these few days you have to yourself to worry about the unavoidable, Miss Granger. Death does not await you, fear not."

"But if I were to know-"

"Knowing about it will not deter it. Knowing will not stop me. Knowing will in no way aid you or prepare you. You will not be able to persuade me away from my decision. You will be, effectively, helplessly waiting like a fly for the spider to prey upon you. I do believe the fly would be better at waiting in the silken webs if it didn't know of the spider's approach, don't you?"

He turned a page, and after a moment of silence, added, "So no, you do not wish to know."

Hermione bit her cheek, deciding whether to ask him.

"How did you find out about old magic?" Hermione asked finally, for now choosing a different course of inquiry.

That finally caused him to look up from his text. He grinned, showing his approval of her line of questioning. That made it feel wrong.

"Why, Miss Granger, are you still curious about the newfound power you've unlocked in yourself?" Voldemort jeered her.

Hermione frowned. "You promised to answer the question, and that, unfortunately, does not qualify."

Voldemort smirked at her and closed his book. Leaning towards her, he inquired in a subdued tone, "Did you not think that I, much like you, was a student at that school? That I was just as curious about the power of wandless spells? Seeing Dumbledore accomplish something I could not, every single day in his Transfiguration classroom did nothing but infuriate me."

He leaned back, still smirking. "But, unlike you, I had powerful friends with entire libraries of specifically pureblood-related texts," he remembered. "Abraxas Malfoy was particularly useful, I recall. I believe his library provided me with the necessary text to understand the ritual itself. However, unlike you, I knew the benefits and the costs prior to performing it."

His smirk was driving her mental. It was like every Slytherin smirk she'd seen at Hogwarts, every time besmirching her for here heritage and her lack of appreciation for their traditions. It was enough to make her grind her teeth.

"OK, so I went ahead without knowing," Hermione allowed with a scowl. "However, luckily, I have someone who knows everything here to enlighten me. So, Voldemort, what exactly could have happened if I performed the ritual incorrectly."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "The correct address is my lord, Miss Granger," he corrected with a hint of menace in his voice. "My chosen name is not something I let just any person use.

"No matter how many times in the last day you've addressed me that way in your mind," he amended with a sneer.

"Answer the question." She wouldn't stoop so low.

Voldemort took out his wand in a flash, pointing it at her readily. She flinched, bracing for pain, but Nagini hissed loudly, pausing its master in his tracks. Nagini turned the snake-like head towards its master and hissed strongly at him. Voldemort hissed back, lowering his wand to look at her. They both hissed at each other for a moment, until Voldemort sighed.

"My pet has a pet," Voldemort grumbled, just loud enough for her to hear.

Hermione looked at the large serpent's left eye, silently thanking her. What did she say?

"Nagini can smell how your anxiety spiked," Voldemort told her, making her jump. He was clearly in her head. With a resigned look, he sheathed his wand and sat down once more in the armchair. "Surprisingly, she likes you enough to fight me on your behalf. So go on, ask your questions."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "She means that much to you?"

Nagini hissed at her and Voldemort imitated the eyebrow raise I had done. "I believe you've offended her. Please, keep doing that. She may stop defending you."

"I was just surprised you care about anything," Hermione corrected.

"I believe I rescued you, Miss Granger," Voldemort reminded her. "You were in no position to return to your home or even cast a warming charm. Surely that constitutes to you some degree of humanity."

He was taunting her.

"A rescue doesn't include imprisonment," Hermione retorted. "You kidnapped me."

"It's no less than what Dumbledore would have done once you returned to the school, emitting magic like one of the founders," he said, amused by her little tantrum. "He would have immobilized you and stowed you away somewhere without so much as a 'by your leave'."

"No," she responded strongly. "Not everyone treats this the way you do."

"Oh, of course, if one of your friends knew they would have tried to save you," Voldemort sneered. "Not that you would tell them, of course, but if you did they would have tried to get dear old Dumbledore to see reason. But once it was explained that you, as you are, would attract the undue attention of any pureblood you happened across and word would get to me of your prodigious abilities, he would successfully convince them that you needed to remain in hiding for your own safety. After all, I do covet power and you, Miss Granger, have inadvertently shown most of the purebloods across Britain that you have it."

Hermione glared. "We're not in the hypothetical realm anymore."

His eyes flashed in a sinister fashion. "Yes, little witch, very shrewd. The magic you emitted last night was quite powerful and very, very shocking. I'm sure that every pureblooded or halfblooded male who had ever had old magic in his family could feel that shockwave you emitted, calling us to you. Of course, so long as it wasn't negated by more powerful old magic wards."

"Then where were they?" she demanded. "Why only you?'"

"Because I'm the only one who could feel the magic enough to follow it," he told her with a wave of his finger. "Old magic is not the same as the stuff these children use, Miss Granger. They wouldn't be able to find the epicenter even if they used Point Me. The old muggle expression, 'Takes one to know one' I believe applies here."

Hermione sighed, and leaned back, careful not to squish Nagini's midsection. "OK, I'll bite; why only the males?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

Voldemort's smile grew to elephantine proportions. "You are delving very close to the reason I brought you here, did you know? I must ask if you are sure you want an answer to this question."

His red eyes bore into hers as she uncomfortably decided how to win this encounter. He had the power of her fear, so the answer was to deny him that. However, she really didn't want to spend time worrying about her impending doom and more than was necessary.

"I suppose I shall have to teach myself a bit of patience," she said with carefully measured words. "However, all of this does not mean that you can justify kidnapping."

"Oh, I can justify it quite well," he hissed, suddenly very excited. "You see, a young witch who makes herself vulnerable in the woods is certain to meet some unpleasant fate. As her savior and the one person who would teach her to use her power, I believe I'm within my rights to expect some sort of obedience from her. And, of course, some loyalty."

"Never," Hermione pronounced. "It isn't a life debt, so I owe you nothing. And nothing is exactly what could convince me to betray Harry."

"I know, of course, you won't be willing," Voldemort reassured her with wicked gleam. "But I will take your loyalty none the less."

Hermione tried her hardest to not let his taunts affect her, but her stomach was now in leaden pipes and quite heavy. The thought of being under some sort of Imperius curse was not the most pleasant of thoughts. Upon seeing her anxiety, the gleam in Voldemort's eyes grew, but his body language turned calm as he reclined back into his seat.

"Once again, you are getting dangerously close to the answers you don't want," Voldemort pointed out. "I suggest you focus on old magic and cease inquiry regarding your situation, Miss Granger, or I may let you sit in horrible anticipation of what I'm going to do to you."

Hermione took a shaky breath, but nodded. "OK. How about you tell me how soon I can expect to feel this prodigious magic you were talking about? I feel nothing right now."

Voldemort responded well to her new line of questioning. He told her she'd begin by doing some accidental magic probably a few days along, and after that she'd feel more connected to it and could get it to respond to her at will. He went over some basic healing spells and rituals now available to her through the new magic, and went over a couple of cool new powers she had acquired. For example, she could feel a person's magic. She could erect wards beyond the standard Fidelius charm. Good wards, like those around Pureblood homes and Hogwarts. She could still force specific responses from it with spells, but it granted freedom and elemental magic as well. He briefly touched on the old books he had found with advanced potions and runes work she could now do as well.

She could tell, throughout his explanation, where the gaps were. She could see the small flicker of amusement that entered his gaze as he redirected his thought somewhere. She could hear the laughing tone at some of her questions before he cannily answered everything but them. By the end of the conversation, she knew that whatever he had planned for her made her not only subservient, but dependent. It was something to do with warding, too, based on the moment they had were he went off talking about links. She knew that when pureblood families put up wards for their properties they also linked them together, in a way. It kept them all close, easy to apparate between, and under a singular power that the books never specified. When she asked, she saw his glint and smirk and quickly retracted her question.

Hermione was left with an uneasy feeling about everything. Like his amusement at her was hiding the secret, and his pleasantness was a clue as to why. Every kind word was a subtle bit of power exchange where she didn't know the consequences, and each beratement held hidden subtext she couldn't read.

At some point during the conversation, Nagini had uncoiled herself from Hermione and slithered away to her master. With a touch of the wand and hardly a moment's pause in his explanation of wards, the snake was gone. Hermione didn't dare ask where she had been sent. She suddenly felt her security against him was gone, and from the gleam in his eyes he agreed.

"You know what?" she said nervously. "There's only so much time you can spend with a Dark Lord, so I better take the potion Professor Snape left and try to sleep."

Voldemort chuckled low in his throat, another moment that caused her pause. "Why are you laughing like that?"

"Because you assume I shall leave," he laughed. "Miss Granger, as much as Nagini is enamored with you, I release her each night to hunt on the grounds. As such, I am your guard for the night."

Hermione started slightly, but nodded. "I, er, I guess that's reasonable," she agreed.

Voldemort's amusement seemed to rise, as he did out of the seat. "And do you not think I too need to sleep?"

Suddenly, his comments and amusement made sense. I flinched away from him, trying to maintain a composed expression. "Of course. I assumed I would be on the floor, or in a transfigured armchair, or-"

"Oh no, little witch," he grabbed at her arm as she tried to retreat. "You are still recovering your magic. From my studies, it seems it will recover and manifest much quicker if someone else of old magic is close by. I believe that healing quickly is what we want for you, yes?"

"I can offer a second opinion," she offered in a tight voice, pulling against his grip. "Where did you find this research?"

"There's no need for another opinion, Miss Granger. I believe it is worth a trial run," he purred, his grip painful on her right forearm. His crimson eyes bore into hers. "Unless, of course, you feel your magic returned?"

"You know I don't," she snapped, resisting the urge to use her free hand to punch him.

"Then I believe I shall stay very close, my little witch," Voldemort replied, pulling her towards the wardrobe. A short little nightdress was given to her with his annoyingly aware expression. "Go prepare for your sleep, and I shall be waiting. I do not suggest trying to avoid this."

"So, you're making me into a mistress?" she threw the absurb guess at him. His amusement glinted, like Hermione had nearly gotten it right. It made her flinch. "I don't want an answer to that, forget it. I'll be back."

Hermione was getting steadily more freaked out. She was definitely sure it wasn't normal for Voldemort to just sit down and talk or read with anyone, yet he had. She was equally sure that this man would never let anyone sleep in his bed, exposed, and yet she was about to do just that. This wasn't about information, because he could simply take it from her mind, and she was certain that the supposed kindness he was showing her was not simply to bed her. He was Voldemort! She was sure if he ordered all his female Death Eaters up here he could have an orgy, if he wished.

This was about the magic. It wasn't enough for her that he was trying to help her recover; it felt much more like the in-joke he'd been playing on her for their entire conversation, the one that made him smirk at inappropriate moments and make cryptic comments about her loyalty. How was he so sure she wouldn't try to kill him during the night? Why did he even want to be in the bed with her?

Her vision blurred and she wiped away the tears before they had the chance to fall. No, she wouldn't allow him to disconcert her. She wouldn't think about why, she would simply lift up her chin, walk back into the room, and steadfastly ignore him. If he tried anything, she would break his . . . er, well, she couldn't break his nose. His fingers? No, that was a mafia move. Oh, his teeth! She'd punch him hard enough to break his teeth.

So, after relieving herself and brushing her teeth, ignoring how exposed she was in the nightgown, she did just that. She lifted her chin defiantly, and went back into the room to meet the man who was keeping her prisoner.

What she didn't expect was him, perched on the edge of the bed and staring at her, in only silken pajama bottoms.

She wavered.

"Why don't you come take your draught, little witch?" Voldemort purred at her, patting the bed amicably. Hermione didn't know how to respond. "I simply want you well."

"Why?" was all she could manage.

Voldemort gave her the in-joke grin she hated. "Are you truly asking, pet? Have you decided you wish to know?"

She glared. "You know what? I am. I want to know what you have planned for me. You're treating me like some honoured guest and its disconcerting! Just tell me what you want!"

She hated that her defiance made him laugh. This time, it was a deep belly laugh that made her even more uncomfortable than she already was. He pretended to wipe a tear away and smiled his sinister smile at her.

"Gryffindors," he chuckled. "Miss Granger, you are highly entertaining. I don't believe I've had anyone yell at me unless they have a family member at the end of my wand. It's disrespectful, yes, but woefully entertaining."

She gritted her teeth in anger. "Just. Tell. Me."

He was up like a shot, striding to meet her. Hermione refused to be intimidated, firming her stance before he arrived and grabbed her face between his spindly fingers.

"Now that was not amusing," he told her, his face finally showing the danger she knew he had hidden underneath. "Perhaps you do not fear me enough, Miss Granger, with all the courtesy I've provided you, but I assure you that if you disrespect me I will not take it kindly."

"There's nothing to respect," she hissed, wishing that it wasn't a lie.

He glared at her face between his hands. "Very well," he hissed. "I see my reticence to punish you because of your condition has left you complacent. A demonstration is in order."

Hermione didn't have time to think before he apparated her away, making her mind and stomach lurch uncomfortably. She gasped for breath as they appeared in a dark, stone corridor. Voldemort waved his hand and robes were suddenly covering him in his standard, regal way.

"Follow, Miss Granger," Voldemort ordered, his eyes now menacing. "Do not test me now."

She felt exposed in the cold air of the dungeons. Pulling down the selected nightgown, she padded softly after Voldemort, getting more anxious as she started passing small cells on her right and left. People whimpered away from him, stared blankly, screamed and thrashed . . . At least they weren't anyone she knew, but she was still in his dungeons. Still here, seeing people chained to the walls.

"Now, you haven't run yet," Voldemort said with mild praise, made much more vindictive as he hissed it out. "As such, I will not be leaving you here. However, my kindness has been disrespected, and I find myself in need of someone to punish. You are not fit to fill that role, so . . .Ah! Here we are."

They turned to a cell and Hermione's breath caught. "Megan?"

The petite Hufflepuff lifted her head, looking at Hermione through pain-filled eyes. Her clothes were distinctly muggle, but were dirty with blood and dust, as was her face. It was difficult to see this as the small girl who had come to her in the library, asking for help with her Transfiguration last year. She was in hers and Harry's year, but her eyes showed Hermione the same torment that Harry had shown her after the TriWizard Cup incident, and it made her look at least five years her senior.

"Good evening, Miss Jones," Voldemort greeted the girl. Hermione flinched at the whimper Megan let out. "Miss Granger here didn't even know you were down here. As a very important guest, I thought she might want to see one of her old school mates."

"Why is she here?" Hermione asked him, dreading.

"Oh, her father married some muggle woman," Voldemort said off-handedly. "Having her here is a good way to control her aunt, however."

"Jones . . ." Hermione tried to think of anyone of that name. "I don't know her aunt."

"She works in the Ministry at the moment," he informed her. "Although, from her results, she is heavily favoring Dumbledore. So long as she does her part to keep me hidden from Fudge, she will keep her niece alive."

He turned his attention back to her classmate. "I do apologize, Miss Jones, but my little witch here has been exceptionally disrespectful this evening. She is recovering so I cannot discipline her effectively, and I wondered . . . Would you be a dear and accept Miss Granger's punishment for her?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, moving to get between Voldemort and the Hufflepuff. He simply waved his hand and she was frozen, her eyes unable to close but able to move and look at him and Megan in quick succession. The girl was whimpering more audibly now, pushing herself up the wall and away from Voldemort's raising wand.

"Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!"

Hermione watched helplessly as the young girl was struck again and again with the torture curse. She screamed and writhed in her chains, begging for death or mercy or both, bringing unbidden tears to Hermione's eyes. If she could move, she would be shaking.

"You care about the most insignificant of people, Miss Granger," Voldemort hissed, rounding on her. His eyes were dark and deep with his pleasure. "Disrespect me again, and I will kill. Do you understand? You may be valuable to me; others are not. If I must go to some random muggle village and bring a muggle child for you to watch die, I will do it. I will bring you along to watch me flatten a house, a town, even a county. Depending on how angry you make me, Miss Granger, I could be more and more merciless. Each time you intentionally insult me after I have warned you, the punishment will escalate. I would not spurn me lightly in the future."

He released her then, and she dropped to her knees in breathless guilt. The quivering Hufflepuff in the cell had her unable to look away. Tears were now freely dropping from her eyes. "Meg-gan, I'm-m so sorry. S-so sorry. So v-very sorry."

"As touching as that apology is," Voldemort sneered, his eyes dark, "I believe after an offence it is customer to offer one to the person who was offended."

She turned to glare at him, her lips firmly sealed. With a raised eyebrow, he pointed his wand to the young Hufflepuff once again.

"No! Wait!" Hermione shouted. After taking a quick breath, she bowed her head. Partially a sign of respect, but also not wanting to look at him. "I apologize, my Lord."

"For?"

Hermione swallowed the bile rising in her throat. "My disrespectful attitude and behavior."

"And how will you avoid this in the future, Miss Granger?"

Her humiliation was complete. Tears streamed. "By remembering today."

"No, no, I do not want that, little witch," he patronized her. "I have suggestions for you, if you'd like. Will you avoid raising your voice to me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Will you take into account the kindness and honour I offer you by placing you under my personal care before you accuse me?"

"Yes."

"And how will you treat me?"

Hermione froze. No, she couldn't say what he wanted. He was no master of hers.

"As a person?" Hermione tried hopefully.

"Not quite, little witch," he purred. "Try again."

"As the Dark Lord?"

This made him pause half a moment. "As your lord would be perfectly acceptable for right now," he seemed to allow. "Very well, you are forgiven. Stand and take my arm."

Hermione complied, not daring to cast her eyes to Megan after her kneeling apology to the enemy. They apparated back to the room, and this time Hermione hardly reacted to the apparition. Her stomach was already in knots, and there was nothing more apparition could do to discomfort her.

"You require rest after that adventure, Miss Granger," Voldemort hissed at her. His arm swept towards the bed. "Rest. There will be no more questions tonight."

She didn't try to resist him. The idea of curling up and letting today be no more was far too appealing, and Hermione quickly pulled the covers around her and curled to one edge of the mattress in a shocked horror. She couldn't sleep once he entered the bed and magicked out the lights, leaving her with the images of the quivering Megan, the begging Hermione, and the dark pleasure in Voldemort's eyes as he caused them both.