No Ice Cream Today
Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror above her sink as she cleaned her teeth, her face flushing red and hot as she relived what had happened the night before. She'd been grinding against Lord Voldemort when Sylvie Malfoy had brazenly walked into the room, interrupting the moment, shamelessly bringing up a dessert nobody wanted. Voldemort and Hermione had reluctantly followed Sylvie into the dining room, where a bewildered Abraxas Malfoy had seemed baffled by everyone's quiet. Hermione had been red-faced and angry during dessert. Voldemort had spoken sharply to Sylvie and Abraxas about running errands the next morning. And Sylvie had smoothly, haughtily asked whether the custard was to everyone's liking.
It had, without a doubt, been the most awkward experience Hermione had ever undergone. She'd walked up to her rooms alone, leaving Voldemort outside the dining room. She'd known why he'd not walked her upstairs. He needed to ensure that Hermione wasn't seen as his whore, and if they wanted that to be the case, then they couldn't go snogging outside her rooms to say goodnight. So she'd said goodnight to him outside the dining room and hurried up the stairs to her black and white suite, and she'd taken some Dreamless Sleep after a quick shower.
Now she stood with her hair pulled into a tight braid, wearing a simple blue wool dress, and she spit out her toothpaste. She ought to despise everything about Lord Voldemort, she reminded herself. And she did. She told herself that. She did hate him; he was Lord Voldemort. She was Hermione Granger. Of course she hated him. But she shivered as she rinsed her mouth and face and remembered how he'd looked and sounded playing the piano. She had not been able to keep from kissing him then, from touching him. No matter how hard she tried to remind herself that her entire purpose here was to demolish his hopes and dreams, there was something darkly alluring about his power.
She knew what that power could do. He could destroy people. He would ruin lives. But she couldn't help finding his abilities supremely erotic. She wasn't sure why; it was a visceral reaction over which she seemed to have little control. Whenever Hermione tried to push Ron Weasley into her mind as a method of pushing Voldemort out, it didn't work. Instead she found herself dwelling on the things Ron had done over the last few years of marriage to annoy her, the ways he had chipped away at their friendship through the hardships of their married life. Hermione hadn't been innocent. She'd worn away at her relationship with Ron, too. There was no doubt of that. But what they'd been left with was a shadow of the warm life they'd had together as best friends.
Now, here, sent back in time on a one-way journey from which there was no return, Hermione was struggling to miss Ron very badly. She was finding it difficult to long for him. Instead she was finding herself caught up in her mission. She needed to ingratiate herself to Lord Voldemort. That was what O.S. and friends had told her. And she was trying to do that. It was working, it seemed. He viewed her as a secret weapon. If last night - before Sylvie Malfoy had walked in - had been any indication, he viewed her as something even more than that. He had kissed her very enthusiastically. He had held her waist and caressed her breast through her bra. He had lathed his tongue over her neck.
He had played the piano.
Hermione sighed and walked out of her bathroom, sliding on flat shoes in her bedroom. She pulled on a lightweight outer robe. It was chilly today, she knew. She headed out of the black and white suite and smirked a little to herself as she remembered the way she'd awakened this morning to find a little tray on her bedside table. There had been a single rosemary scone with butter, a cup of pumpkin juice, and a little note reading,
Good morning, Madam Granger. Meet me in my office at nine so we can go to Diagon Alley. - LV
He'd sent the breakfast up with Dobby, Hermione knew. Suddenly she wondered whether he'd been like this with Bellatrix Black before she'd gone away to school. Had he sent her little notes and thoughtful things to make her happy? Why was she wondering that? Hermione pinched her lips as she descended the staircase and dragged her fingertips along the stone wall. Why was she thinking about Bellatrix?
"Good morning, Madam Granger."
Hermione practically groaned as she emerged from the staircase to find herself face-to-face with Sylvie Malfoy. Sylvie's lovely face was tipped up a bit, and she reached up to smooth her hair.
"Did you sleep well?" Sylvie asked. Hermione licked her lip.
"Very well. Thank you. I'm off to Diagon Alley."
"Ah, yes. Lord Voldemort had said he had some errands to run. I know he intends on keeping you… close," Sylvie said, flicking her eyes up and down Hermione's form. She narrowed her eyes and shrugged. "I do apologise for last night. It was uncouth."
"It was nothing," Hermione lied. Then, deciding she wanted to cover herself a little, she said, "Really, it was nothing. There's nothing to think about."
"Right." Sylvie curled up half her mouth. "I hope the two of you will join Abraxas and me for dinner tonight."
"I'd have to ask the Dark Lord," Hermione said very meaningfully. "It's up to him."
"I'll have Abraxas speak with him, then," Sylvie said. "Until later, Madam Granger."
"Yes. Thank you." Hermione huffed a breath and walked past Sylvie, whose elegant burgundy robes had a little train that dragged on the rug as she swished by. Hermione stalked down the corridor until she reached the door leading to Lord Voldemort's office. She knocked firmly on the door, and after about ten seconds, the door opened. Voldemort curled up his lips, staring down at Hermione, and said,
"Come on in. I have a few questions for you before we go to Diagon Alley."
"Of course, Master." Hermione pushed forth positivity about him in her mind. She mustn't let him feel the way she hated him. Suddenly it didn't feel as difficult to fix those thoughts. Suddenly it did not feel so complicated to replace the notion of hating him with the idea that she was in awe of him. She blinked as she shut his door and moved into his office, and he asked softly,
"R.A.B. - the one who stole my locket Horcrux and replaced it with a decoy. Regulus Black. Orion's boy. He'll turn against me."
Hermione's lips fell open. Her mind whirled with fear that Voldemort was going to murder Regulus as revenge for a crime he hadn't yet committed. But then she realised that Regulus had died even in the timeline she'd known. Perhaps she could save him here. She nodded and said,
"He did turn against you, My Lord. But he became a Death Eater, of his own volition. I do think that if you'd had a more inclusive message, like the one you described to me last night, he would be far less likely to attempt to betray you in any way."
"It would be better to simply eliminate the boy now," Voldemort sniffed. Hermione sighed and shut her eyes, shaking her head.
"If you do that, Master," she said, "you risk turning all the Purebloods against you."
She was shocked at herself then. She was actually giving him advice. Why wasn't she playing along with him? Yes! her conscience screamed at her. Sacrifice Regulus now and turn the Purebloods against you and -
"You'll risk his Pureblood relatives hating you, if they find out you had anything to do with his death," Hermione said, "and meanwhile you've got no insurance that he's ever going to betray you. Not with your adapted message. It would be wiser, I think, to keep a close eye on him. Don't let him into your innermost circle, to be certain. Don't give him the sort of access he had in my lived experience. But don't put yourself at risk over Regulus Black."
"Hmm." Voldemort cleared his throat. "Severus Snape. You said he was acting as a double agent for Dumbledore. He was in love with a Muggle-born called Lily, you said. The mother of Harry Potter. But Lily went on to marry a boy called James. All of that spiraled; Lily and Severus Snape had their friendship torn asunder by James' interloping. And Snape was pushed away from Lily, and Harry Potter was born of the union between Lily and James. And then Harry Potter destroyed me."
A cold flush went through Hermione. She knew at once what Voldemort was going to say. She shook her head, her eyes watering, unable to speak.
"I think I shall destroy James Potter before any of that happens," he said. "Think of it as euthanasia."
Hermione couldn't breathe. She shook her head wildly. She tried to imagine a wizarding world in which Severus Snape and Lily Evans had remained friends because Lily had never met James. She tried to imagine a world in which James and Lily had never given birth to Harry Potter, so Ron had never become friends with Harry. Who would have been Ron's best friend? Neville, probably. Or Seamus. Or Dean. Hermione blinked. She pictured a world where Harry Potter hadn't spent his childhood raised in a cupboard under the stairs by an abusive aunt and uncle. She tried to imagine a world without James, a world without Harry.
Was this murder, she wondered? James had been killed by Lord Voldemort in her lived existence. Was it any different if it happened earlier and erased James' adulthood? Was it worse if it prevented an entire Second Wizarding War? Was any of this murder if making Harry Potter Un-Born could stop the suffering and death of…
No. She'd gone mad, thinking like this. What on Earth had come over her, even entertaining a thought like this for half a moment? She gulped hard and stared at Voldemort, and he nodded.
"You are no killer," he whispered. He neared her, dragging his knuckle around her jaw. She shuddered, staring into his dark eyes. He bent down and brushed his lips against hers, his breath warm on her lips as he murmured, "You want to avoid as much misery and torment as you can for the community that welcomed you. Hmm? We want the same things, you and I. We want the best outcome. There will be no pain for your old friend; he won't ever have been born. You want me to win, don't you?"
Hermione tried to push away the thoughts that were creeping through her mind. She'd been sent here to change the course of history to ensure that the fewest number of people suffered. That was her mission. Could it be that that meant eliminating James Potter now? Could that possibly be a necessary act? She sighed against Voldemort's lips and tried to put pieces together in her head.
If James Potter was eliminated now, he and Lily Evans would never meet and fall in love. They would never join the Order of the Phoenix and defy Lord Voldemort three times as the Prophecy foretold. James and Lily wouldn't be murdered on Halloween. Harry Potter would never send a Killing Curse rebounding back to Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord wouldn't vanish, only to return years later with a fresh body and a renewed sense of purpose. There would be no second war. Sirius Black would still be alive. Tonks, Lupin, Fred Weasley, and all the others would still be alive. Wouldn't they? If James Potter were only eliminated now instead of later, wouldn't it save all of that suffering?
"Yes," hissed Voldemort against Hermione's lips. He kissed her then, and Hermione let her body push up against his. His hand went to the small of her back, and she touched at his chest as she thrust forward a thought in her mind.
You will do what is best for us all.
He grunted a little onto her mouth, and when he pulled back, he told her,
"I shall make my decision soon. Rest assured that your information has been… invaluable… Madam Granger. Now. Let's go to Diagon Alley, shall we?"
"Got your book?"
Hermione came walking down the flight of stairs in Flourish and Blotts and held up her copy of Stars Within Us: Advanced Astronomical Calculations. She saw that Voldemort had come into the shop with a canvas shopping bag of his own, having apparently gone to the apothecary for some potions supplies. She wondered what sort of potions-making he did these days, but she decided not to ask. As she approached him, he tipped his head and said,
"Draught of Peace. It helps me sleep without knocking me clear out like Dreamless Sleep. I'm a chronic insomniac, I'm afraid."
"Oh." Hermione raised her eyebrows and thought distantly that she ought to try using Draught of Peace to help drift off. Lately, she'd been using a drop of Dreamless Sleep, but it had been leaving her drowsy in the mornings. With a biting internal laugh, she thought to herself that perhaps all she needed was a good solid climax to put herself down, and then her eyes went wide as she realised Voldemort had probably been in her mind as she'd thought that. She flicked her gaze to his and watched his cheeks go pink. He cleared his throat and turned toward the cashier, gesturing.
"You'll need to pay for that book, I suppose," he said crisply. Hermione let out a little noise and nodded. She walked up to the desk where a stooped old witch waited behind the till, and she passed over a few Galleons. The witch handed her three Galleons back and said,
"That book's on clearance; it's been sitting on the shelf for years," said the old witch. Hermione gratefully took the money back and tucked it into her bag. She hugged the copy of Stars Within Us: Advanced Astronomical Calculations to her chest and walked out of the bookshop with Voldemort. He smiled down at her, just a little, and asked,
"Up for some ice cream? It's chilly, I know, but…"
He trailed off then, and Hermione looked up to see a white-haired wizard, familiar but younger than she'd known him, walking straight toward them.
Albus Dumbledore.
She froze. She panted through her parted lips, panicking a little. What was she meant to do, she wondered? She reminded herself, almost aggressively, that she had not been instructed by O.S. and friends to come back in time and find Albus Dumbledore. She'd been instructed to come back in time and change Lord Voldemort's course. Otherwise she would have gone back to 1932 and kill a five-year-old Tom Riddle at Wool's Orphanage. Otherwise, she would have gone to 1936 and stop Albus Dumbledore from ever fetching Tom Riddle to Hogwarts. But she'd been told to find Lord Voldemort at the masked ball in 1968 and ingratiate herself to him. She hadn't been given this One-Way Time Turner with the expectation that she would murder Tom Riddle before he made his Horcruxes. She hadn't been given this Time-Turner with the expectation that she would go running straight to Albus Dumbledore.
And she needed to rein in her thoughts now, she thought frantically. He would be scanning her mind. So she desperately thought to herself all the negative things she could about Dumbledore. She stared at the old man before her, just a little bit younger than the ancient wizard she'd known, and she painted him wicked in her mind. She thought of the way Dumbledore had raised up Harry Potter knowing full well that the boy would be a sacrificial lamb. She thought of the way he'd manipulated Severus Snape as a double agent and forced Snape to commit murder. She thought of the way Dumbledore had concealed his own dubious past and portrayed himself as a spotless hero.
"Hello, Tom," said Dumbledore smoothly as he approached the two of them in Diagon Alley. Voldemort sniffed a little and said tightly,
"You know full well that's not my name anymore, Dumbledore."
"To me, at least, you will always be that sad little boy in Wool's Orphanage, Tom," Dumbledore said. "I shall never forget that little boy, nor the Head Boy at Hogwarts. I shall never forget the young man who came begging for a teaching position at the school. I am sorry I had to turn you down for that, my dear boy."
"Don't condescend, Dumbledore," Voldemort sneered. Dumbledore raised his white brows and turned to Hermione.
"How very rude I'm being," he said. "I have not been introduced to your… to this lovely young witch."
"This is Madam Hermione Granger," Voldemort said sharply. "A Muggle-born who went undetected by the Ministry of Magic. You won't remember her from your school, because she didn't attend."
"And do you speak for yourself, Madam Granger?" Dumbledore asked, his voice light and airy. Hermione flicked her lips up and said warmly,
"Pleased to meet you, Professor Dumbledore. I've heard quite a lot about you."
"All of it good, I hope," Dumbledore nodded. Hermione flushed hot. Her mind buzzed with alarm. Was she doing the right thing? Was she making a mistake? Should she scream at Dumbledore right here in Diagon Alley? Lord Voldemort goes on to be defeated by Harry Potter, and -
It was too late for all that. Even if she could meet privately with Dumbledore and convince him that her intentions were pure against Voldemort, she and Dumbledore would have to work to find and destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes in this time. Then they'd have to eliminate him, and there was no guarantee that simply taking Voldemort out here was the right course of action. After all, O.S. and friends hadn't told her to kill Lord Voldemort. They'd told her to change his course of action. Her mission was clear, and it didn't involve running to Dumbledore.
And, anyway, she was getting less and less sure every day that she possessed the ability to stand before Albus Dumbledore with a heart full of loyalty and speak with venom against Lord Voldemort. She had no clue why her mind was turning against her, but it was. She was going mad, she thought. She was going utterly mad.
She needed to shield her thoughts, she thought desperately. She needed to shield them now, before Voldemort read her uncertainty. She pushed forth thoughts about resenting Dumbledore, thoughts about him using Harry and Snape, about the way Tonks and Lupin had given their lives so soon after their child had been born. She thought of kissing Voldemort, of the way he'd played the piano. She thought of wanting him, of wanting more. She thought of desiring the Dark Lord, of the way he'd made her body come alive, and she thought of the way Ron Weasley felt dull and painful in her head.
"Is there something specific you need, Dumbledore?" Voldemort snapped, "or did you stop me just to say hello?"
"I'll let you get your ice cream," Dumbledore said, narrowing his eyes at Hermione. Her eyes went wide, and suddenly she realised something. Albus Dumbledore was a Legilimens, just like Lord Voldemort. Her mind was just as vulnerable to Dumbledore as it was to Voldemort. What had Dumbledore seen in her head? Had he realised that she was not of this time? Had he seen that she and Dumbledore had once been allies, that she had fought against Voldemort? Had Dumbledore seen Hermione snared up in Voldemort's arms, years away from having destroyed his Horcruxes? She chomped her lip as Voldemort put his hand protectively between his shoulder blades and guided her away without another word. As Dumbledore turned and walked in the other direction, he called over his shoulder,
"Good day, Tom. Hermione."
Hermione. They hadn't given him her first name, she thought. He'd found it in her head. She felt dizzy then, thinking that it was very dangerous indeed that they'd run into Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort seemed to agree. He slid his fingers down Hermione's arm and laced them through hers, and he mumbled,
"No ice cream today. Sorry, but you're not leaving Malfoy Manor for the time being. Let's go."
He took her by Side-Along Apparition without another word, and Hermione gasped as she was pulled through the pinching black void, coming to in his office.
Author's Note: Uh-oh. A lot to process here - Voldemort's thinking of taking out James Potter (and Hermione's brain is telling her that that might actually be a good idea!) and Albus Dumbledore may have just gotten wayyyyyy too much info out of Hermione's mind in Diagon Alley. What will Dumbledore do with what he's figured out? Will he move against Voldemort? Is Hermione in danger? Sylvie seems to be the least of everyone's concerns now.
Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.