Minds
She found him in the violet parlour. She followed the sound of the piano, and she found him.
She'd thought he'd be in his office, but when she'd gone there and knocked, there had been no answer. Then she'd heard it - tinkling high notes accented by a thundering rush of low chords. He was playing the piano. Hermione had blinked a few times outside his office and walked down the corridor toward the violet parlour, and once she'd reached it, she'd stood in the doorway and just watched for a long moment.
He was swaying a bit as he played, his left hand stretched into chords and his right hand's fingers flying around with impossible speed. Then his two hands began to play percussive chords together as the piece transitioned into a brisk march. His fingers pitter-pattered all around as he provided the drumbeat with the low notes, and then, after a long while, his hands slid from the keys altogether and he glanced up.
"Morning," he said quietly. Hermione let out a shaking breath and shook her head.
"No, don't stop," she insisted. He smirked a little and put his right hand back on the piano. He began playing something else; this was in a different key from the piece he'd been playing before. This was something minor, a lonely dirge. He depressed his thumb and then stretched out his pinky into a high note, and his left hand thrummed a few mournful chords. It was a beautiful piece that he was playing now - simple, sad, and lovely. Hermione stepped closer to the piano and whispered,
"Such talent you've got, Master."
Somehow, it didn't feel wrong at all to speak to him like that. For the first time since coming here, she didn't feel like she was betraying anyone in speaking to Lord Voldemort with words like that. She didn't feel like she was breaking anyone's heart by being attracted to him, or by thinking his piano playing was wonderful. Ron was gone, and Harry was gone, and Ginny was gone. The Albus Dumbledore who was here presented a danger, didn't he? Wasn't her entire lived existence so very far away?
"Hermione, your mind is somewhere else," Voldemort chided her, his fingers working down the keys in a cascading scale. He played low chords with two hands, and he looked up at Hermione. "You're wondering whether you're betraying anybody. I assure you that you are not. Simply by having come here, you've already altered the future. The world you left almost certainly no longer exists in the form you knew it. In any case, you left it because it was deeply flawed and you wanted to change things. Here you are… changing things."
"Yes, Master." Hermione strode up behind him and instinctively put her hands on his shoulders. It was an affectionate move, she knew, and probably far too intimate for the two of them. But if he minded, he didn't give any indication. Instead, he just kept on playing the piano until he finished his dirge of a piece with a few more chords. He slowly stood and turned around to face Hermione, and he took her cheeks in his hands.
"There's so very much I wish to teach you," he murmured. "If anyone could learn, it's you."
"Teach me?" Hermione felt her eyes go wide. What did he want to teach her? Voldemort pursed his lips and said,
"I'd like to begin by teaching you Occlumency. I have every confidence now that you'll freely share information with me when I ask it of you. I don't need Legilimency to force my way into your mind. Dumbledore, on the other hand…"
"You'd like me to defend my mind against Albus Dumbledore," Hermione nodded. She sighed. "When do we begin studies in Occlumency, then, My Lord?"
Half his mouth curled up, and he held out one hand. The door slowly shut and clicked to lock, and he tipped his head. "Right now."
Hermione followed him as he walked over to the table where they'd taken a few meals together. He wandlessly pushed out her chair for her, and she sat. She was nervous as he brought her chair in. What was he going to find in her head as he taught her this skill? Surely this was going to make her terribly vulnerable, studying under him like this. Wouldn't he discover that they were enemies?
Or, at least, they had been enemies. But he already knew that much. He could uncover the real reason why she'd come here, Hermione supposed. She gulped.
"Right." Voldemort sniffed as he sat opposite her and folded his hands on the table. "Occlumency is the skill of repelling Legilimency. In its simplest form, this means putting up a wall of blankness to repel invasion. In a more complicated variation, it requires the practitioner to replace memories or thoughts to confuse or distract the Legilimens."
Hermione frowned. Wasn't that rather what she'd already been doing? She'd been pushing forth thoughts for him to find. She'd dreamed up false memories and altered old ones. Perhaps she'd already practised a bit of Occlumency without realising it.
"I would like for you to first become aware of what emotion you experience when a thought or memory is brought forward," Voldemort said patiently. He was an awfully good teacher, Hermione thought. Snape had been a terrible Occlumency teacher to Harry, but Voldemort was doing a very good job of teaching her.
"So if you pull up a memory of my parents and I experience melancholy, I acknowledge it," she said, and he nodded tightly. It was still raining, so the diffuse light in the room made the space a bit dark. His face was shadowy as he examined her and said,
"Once you feel the emotion, try to cast it aside. Try to make your mind as vacuous and blank as you possibly can. Imagine a star full of skies, an ocean without end, a forest full of trees. Endlessness."
Hermione nodded. Voldemort pulled out his wand, which made Hermione awfully nervous since he did so much magic without the instrument. He aimed it directly at her and incanted aloud,
"Legilimens."
She distantly wondered why he'd used a verbal spell with a wand, but then she got her answer. The force of his invasion was so strong that she almost buckled over at the table. He was fully inside her head, she realised. He was flicking through her thoughts as though they were pages in a book. Visuals went whirring by behind her eyelids, playing out like clips of a film.
Hermione, Ron, and Harry were drinking Butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks on a snowy day…
It was the summer holidays, and Hermione's mother was making lemonade in the kitchen whilst Hermione and her father played a game of cards in the garden.
People were screaming and crying that Cedric Diggory was dead. Harry was exclaiming that Voldemort was back.
Hermione and Ron were in the Chamber of Secrets, having just destroyed a Horcrux.
Ron was yelling at Hermione that it wasn't his bloody fault that she couldn't get pregnant, so she needed to stop complaining about the entire thing and just be patient about it all.
Hermione seethed through her teeth and felt her eyes burn. A wicked sense of pain came over her at that last memory. Voldemort allowed himself to dwell upon it. Hermione tried not to let him see. She tried to mentally push him away, but Voldemort was much too strong. Hermione gripped the arms of her chair as the memory played out in her head.
Pain.
'Look, 'Mione, not every witch is my mother, one baby right after the other, so -'
'Now you're going to rub it in my face that your mother had so many children?' Hermione spat.
Ron looked incredulous 'We are not going to have a horde of babies!'
'One would be nice!' Hermione exclaimed. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. 'Just one would be nice.'
'Give it some damned time, Hermione. For Merlin's sake. There's only so much I can do.'
'I'm not blaming you, Ronald! I'm just sad. And hurt! I'm allowed to feel things about this! I'm allowed to be hurt!' Hermione tore her cloak off the hook by the door and put it on.
'Where are you going?' Ron snapped.
'To the Pepper Pot,' Hermione sniped back. 'We're all out of food, and if you'd like dinner tonight, we need some more.'
Hermione pushed and shoved inside her head as hard as she could. She imagined a mountain, snowy and still. She imagined standing atop that mountain. She imagined wind blowing around her on a dark and rainy night. She imagined a cold river that ran nowhere. She shut her eyes tightly. Pain. She'd felt pain. She tore that pain into shreds and then opened her eyes, and when she did, Voldemort was staring at her with a very intense expression written upon his dark gaze.
Hermione huffed. She blinked through tears and whispered, "That was only six weeks ago or so. It still stings."
"I see. Well, you did a damned good job of controlling the emotion it made you experience." Voldemort tipped his chin up. "You almost pushed me out."
"Almost isn't good enough for me," Hermione said firmly.
"No. I expect that almost is never quite good enough for Hermione Granger." Voldemort dragged his finger in a circle on the table and said, "Let's go again. I'll settle on something happier this time."
Hermione felt numb as she nodded and mumbled, "Yes, Master."
"Trick me. Fool me," he commanded her. "This time, once you've got ahold of the emotion, replace the memory with something else. Anything else; the point is for you to replace what I'm seeing."
"Yes, My Lord." Hermione swallowed hard. He picked his wand up and aimed it at her again, his voice almost gentle as he incanted,
"Legilimens."
This time, when the memories went flittering by, Hermione steeled herself against what they made her feel. Joy, alarm, trepidation, rage. She pushed all of those thoughts away and settled on an icy grey blankness even as he pulled out a few choice images.
Hermione was dancing with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball.
Hermione's paternal great-grandmother had died, and she'd gone to the funeral as a seven-year-old.
She was standing with her back to the bathroom door as she began to spin the One-Way Time-Turner, on her way back in time to change what had happened with Lord Voldemort.
Hermione ripped Voldemort away from that memory. She tore him out of the image of her coming back in time. She replaced the image with blankness for a moment, with empty black nothingness, and then she thrust forward the first thing that came into her head.
'You should consider kissing him back.' Voldemort dared to kiss Hermione, and she reached for his robes. Her head spun as she realised that The Dark Lord himself had just kissed her.
Voldemort pulled out of Hermione's head so suddenly then that she felt the whooshing sensation in her ears. She blinked at him and whispered,
"Was that right, Master?"
He stared right at her and nodded. He looked somewhat amazed, and he mused, "No, your mind doesn't work like anybody else's, does it?"
"I do my best, Master." Hermione quirked up her lips, and Voldemort sighed.
"I think we'll get your head sealed up well against Albus Dumbledore. Let's keep working."
"Ready to go?" Voldemort asked as Hermione stood outside his office. She adjusted her warm outer cloak and pulled on her leather gloves.
"Ready," she affirmed. "I confess that I don't know much about the Harpies or the Kestrels, but I shall do my best to look enthusiastic."
Voldemort came out into the corridor, wearing his own elegant waffle-weave cloak. He pulled his door shut and led Hermione down the corridor. They walked into the wood-paneled parlour a few doors down from Voldemort's office, and inside, Hermione saw Sylvie and Abraxas Malfoy already waiting. Sylvie looked very beautiful in emerald velvet robes with golden tassels. Hermione smirked a bit and demanded,
"Green and gold. The colours of both Holyhead and Kenmare. Which team are you cheering for, Sylvie?"
"Whichever team is winning," Sylvie teased. She sniffed and said, "The Kestrels, of course. Abraxas has been a fan since he was a boy."
"Perhaps I'll cheer for the Harpies," Hermione said lightly. "Witches cheering on witches, you know."
"Yes, do cheer for the opposition," sneered Sylvie.
"Ladies," Abraxas said smoothly. "Do be kind to one another. We're all under one roof, hmm? All friends here."
"But of course!" Sylvie looked shocked at her husband's words. She whirled toward him and glared. Voldemort was flicking his eyes between Abraxas and Hermione. She noticed that he was staring at Abraxas, and that Abraxas was studying Hermione. Everyone seemed to be glaring at someone else. Hermione sighed and said,
"I'll cheer for the Kestrels, of course."
"Well, let's go," Abraxas said. "If we don't hurry, we'll miss the start of the match."
Voldemort strode up to Hermione and slid his hand through hers, surprising her. She let him take her by Side-Along Apparition, and as they disappeared from the parlour in a pinching, whirling crack, she felt just a little sick. But then they came to, and Hermione stumbled over a leather chair in the raised box where they had landed. Voldemort caught her arm, and Hermione immediately noticed that Cygnus Black III and Druella Black were already seated in the box.
"Oh, good day, sir!" greeted Cygnus, standing and grinning. Voldemort nodded and clapped Cygnus on the forearm. He nodded to Druella. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat as she realised that these were Bellatrix Lestrange's parents. She shoved away that thought, wrenching aside the notion that Bellatrix was an enemy. She replaced the thought with the idea that she was Voldemort's ally. She was here to help him win. She needed him to feel friendliness from her right now.
"Ah! Nott and Avery. Good to see you," greeted Abraxas Malfoy as two more wizards popped into the box. The old friends began chatting for a few moments, and Hermione gazed out upon the Quidditch pitch. She watched crowds filling the stands, almost everyone in various shades of green and gold.
"Madam Granger?"
Hermione turned, and Abraxas Malfoy was smiling at her a little. She blinked. Sylvie was talking with Druella Black, Hermione could see. Abraxas asked nervously,
"Can I fetch you a drink?"
Hermione scowled. Why was Abraxas Malfoy asking about getting her a drink? That seemed… odd. Awkward. She opened her mouth and just stared at him for a moment, unable to read his pale and sparkling eyes. Suddenly Voldemort whirled away from his conversation with Nott and Avery, and he asked quite firmly,
"Hermione, would you prefer a warm Butterbeer or a mulled wine?"
Hermione flicked her eyes to Voldemort and said meaningfully, "A warm Butterbeer would be excellent, My Lord. But I can go get my own drink."
"I'd prefer if you stay up here," he said, leaving no room for debate. "Abraxas, tell them to send up drinks. Two warm Butterbeers for Hermione and myself."
"Yes, sir." Abraxas' cheeks pinked, and he started to walk out of the box. But Sylvie called after him,
"I'd like a mulled wine."
"Yes. Of course," Abraxas nodded. He swept through the curtain and pattered down the stairs. Voldemort gestured to Hermione and said pointedly to Nott and Avery,
"She's an absolutely brilliant mind, as I was just telling you. The most brilliant mind I've ever known."
"My Lord," Hermione murmured, lowering her face. She felt embarrassed, but she was also rather proud. She remembered the sensation, in her sixth year, of being asked to join the Slug Club because she had been the brightest witch at Hogwarts. It had been the first time anyone had truly made her feel valued for her mind. Well, that and the time she'd been given a Time-Turner in her third year to take more classes. Now she'd been given a Time-Turner to change history because she'd been viewed as the only one capable of doing so. She wasn't worthless; she was intelligent and powerful, wasn't she?
"Hermione is an immensely powerful witch, not to be underestimated," Voldemort said almost sharply. Cygnus and Druella looked fascinated, and Nott and Avery looked awed. Sylvie Malfoy tipped her chin up and folded her arms over her chest. Hermione met Voldemort's eyes and smiled a little.
"I have the world's very best mentor," she insisted. "I am the student, the acolyte of the man who will become the most significant sorcerer of all time."
"Do you believe that, Hermione?" Voldemort curled up his lips. Hermione nodded and glanced around the box.
"I have seen it," she said, wondering if she was giving away too much. But then she thought something. They'd all think she was a Seer. They'd think she'd had visions, that she possessed the gift of sight. They'd think she had other mysterious gifts. But they wouldn't think she was a time traveller, not if she played her cards right. She licked her lips and said, "The wizard before you is the most powerful Dark wizard to ever live. Yes. More powerful than Gellert Grindelwald. You would all do well to keep yourselves alongside him."
"High praise from a Muggle-born," Sylvie Malfoy said, "for a man who so highly values the purity of our blood."
Hermione's cheeks went hot. She scowled at Sylvie. Suddenly the crowd roared, and Hermione turned around to see that the teams were being introduced out on the pitch. She turned her attention to the match then, as the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Golden Snitch were released. The match struck into high gear. Abraxas came back, and soon enough a serving witch arrived with the drinks. Hermione held her warm Butterbeer and sipped at it as Voldemort stood silently beside her. Kenmare scored, and as the crowd cheered, Voldemort leaned down and murmured into her ear,
"That was quite a little speech you gave."
"The sooner you gain power, the more likely you are to avoid war," Hermione replied, "Master."
"Abraxas is hungry for you," he told her. Hermione choked a little laugh into her Butterbeer, but she felt Voldemort's left hand snare around her waist and pull her closer. She was breathless then. Possessive. He was being possessive. Abraxas Malfoy had lusted after her, and now Voldemort was holding her close by her waist. He sipped at his Butterbeer as though it was nothing at all to hold her in public.
And they wouldn't think she was his whore, Hermione thought. After all, Voldemort had told them all that Hermione was a very powerful witch with a very impressive mind. He'd bragged about her being a worthy soldier for him. Let them see her in his arms, pulled against him. Hermione actually snuggled up against him, burrowing her head against his chest. Kenmare scored again, and everyone in the box went up in cheers. Suddenly a Bludger knocked a Harpies Chaser from her broom, and as she fell, people gasped. She stood when she fell, though, seemingly unharmed, and people cheered again.
"He's got the Snitch! McGivney's got the Snitch!" cried an Amplified voice. The Kestrels Seeker came rushing back through the pitch, his arm triumphantly outstretched. "Kenmare wins the match!"
"Oh, it's over as soon as that?" complained Sylvie Malfoy.
"We won, Sylvie!" Abraxas snapped. "No complaints!"
Avery, Nott, and the Blacks were cheering happily. Voldemort turned around and congratulated his friends on the victory of their side, and then he said to Hermione,
"This was a success. Let's get back to Malfoy Manor now."
"Yes, My Lord." Hermione nodded. She flicked her eyes to Sylvie Malfoy, who was glaring at her husband. Abraxas Malfoy was staring right at Hermione, and she knew now why he looked at her the way he did. He was attracted to her. Well, what was she meant to do about that? She was staying at Malfoy Manor. Suddenly Abraxas vibrated and stood up very straight. Hermione glanced to Voldemort, who was looking right at Abraxas, and she knew what was going on. A Confundus Charm. Voldemort had wandlessly Confounded Abraxas Malfoy.
"Lovely," said Abraxas, turning to Sylvie Malfoy. He took her face in his hands and kissed her square on the lips. Sylvie squealed in surprise but sank into the kiss. She pulled away after a moment, and Abraxas smiled at his wife as he said, "Let's go home and celebrate the win."
"Abraxas!" Sylvie giggled, her face going a little red. She and Abraxas Disapparated, holding hands. Hermione looked up at Voldemort and narrowed her eyes at him, smirking.
"I saw that," she told him. He shrugged.
"I was more than a little tired of his thoughts of you," Voldemort said softly. "Let's go. We've got our own celebrating to do. And I meant what I said."
"What you said," Hermione repeated, as Nott and Avery waved farewell and then Disapparated. Cygnus Black III and Druella had already left, and now Voldemort and Hermione were the last ones in the box. He stared down at her and told her,
"I told them all that you were an immensely powerful witch, not to be underestimated. I meant that," he said. "I told them that you had a brilliant mind. I meant that."
You played the piano for me, Hermione thought rather desperately. You taught me Occlumency, and you are going to change the world. You are…
"Say it." Voldemort cupped Hermione's jaw and bent, brushing his lips against Hermione's. "Tell me."
"You're the most powerful wizard who's ever lived," Hermione mumbled. Voldemort kissed her more firmly, his arms snaring around her. He Disapparated then, taking her with him, kissing her through the void, his lips still locked onto hers as they reappeared in his suite.
Author's Note: Just a heads-up that I won't be updating tomorrow because I am going to dinner at the Ritz-Carlton and out to a play (woo-hoo, so fancy). I will definitely update on Wednesday. Thanks for your patience.
I am so grateful for feedback on this story. If you get just a quick moment, I would really appreciate you dropping me a little note letting me know your thoughts. Thanks so very much.