Emerald Envy
Dear Odysseus,
She is here. You were right, all those years ago. I have searched her mind for evidence of treachery. She was not an Occlumens until I taught her to be one. Her mind showed me a letter from you in her future, compelling her to come back in time and change my course of action. She was told to come back here so that I might win, so that I would be victorious. She is Muggle-born, and she fought against me, but she is…
Odysseus, she is glorious.
Why didn’t you tell me she would be glorious?
Come to England. I am at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, though it seems you are aware of that. Meet with me. I ask it of you as I seek clarification on a few matters. I look forward to seeing you again after all these years.
I think you know why I won’t sign this letter as Tom Riddle.
Cordially,
Lord Voldemort
He signed his name with a flourish, crossing the T and then waiting for the ink to dry. He folded the letter into thirds and inserted it into an envelope, then shut the envelope. He used his wand to light the wick on his black sealing wax, and he held it over the envelope as the melting wax drizzled down into a pool. He picked up his heavy brass seal with the Dark Mark he’d designed as his own personal signet. He pressed it to the sealing wax, and he turned the envelope over. He dipped his quill into his ink and wrote,
Odysseus Siegel
14 Uhrwerkstrasse, Berlin
Then he set the letter aside and pulled out another sheet of parchment. He dipped his quill again and began writing,
Dear Mr Rookwood,
I require information about the Potter family. I am aware that Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, are older parents and that their son James is their only child. I know they live in a wealthy estate in Kent. I require more details about Fleamont’s hobbies and pastimes, as well as how Euphemia spends her days. Is the boy, James, educated at home? I know, Augustus, that your father and Fleamont Potter were school friends. Write to me with as much information as you have about the Potters. Maintain secrecy in this matter; it is of utmost importance that I -
He stopped then, staring down at the letter he’d been writing to Augustus Rookwood. He realised that he couldn’t outsource any of this knowledge-gathering. Once he’d eliminated James Potter, it couldn’t be traced back to him, or he’d go to Azkaban for murder. He’d have to make it look accidental. Having Rookwood gather information for him just before the boy went missing was completely foolhardy. No. Voldemort would have to get what he needed himself. He pinched his lips and balled up the letter, Vanishing it into thin air. He pulled on the heavy rope beside his desk, and a moment later, with a crack, Dobby the House-Elf appeared in his office. Voldemort picked up the sealed letter on his desk and Banished the envelope to the elf.
“Send this letter off from the Owlery,” he commanded Dobby. “It’s going to Odysseus Siegel in Berlin, so be sure to send a very good bird.”
“Yes, sir.” Dobby Disapparated, taking the letter with him. Voldemort huffed a breath and considered when he’d be able to kill James Potter. There was no immediate rush; the boy wouldn’t even be going to Hogwarts for another few years. But he’d like to do it sooner rather than later, Voldemort thought. Now that he knew that eliminating James Potter meant eliminating the threat of Harry Potter himself, he wanted to act. He wondered distantly how Hermione would take the news that James Potter had been killed. She’d probably be relieved, he thought. It would be a sign that fewer people would suffer and die, and it would be a step towards Voldemort’s victory. And wasn’t all of that what Hermione wanted?
There was knocking on the door of Voldemort’s office, and he found himself wondering if Hermione had gotten bored reading in the library. He cleared his throat and barked,
“Enter.”
The door opened, and Abraxas and Sylvie Malfoy came walking in together. Sylvie trailed behind Abraxas, looking very done up in aubergine robes. She reached for Abraxas’ hand as they moved into Voldemort’s office. Voldemort pushed into Abraxas’ mind and sensed that Sylvie had had a long conversation with Abraxas about Hermione. She’d scolded Abraxas for staring at the younger witch, for letting his gaze linger too long. Now Sylvie was being protective over her territory, holding her husband’s hand where she stood before Lord Voldemort.
“I’m afraid we’ve come with sorrowful news, sir,” Abraxas Malfoy said. “Irma Black has suffered an attack of the heart. They tried to save her at St Mungo’s, but she’s passed away.”
“Irma Black.” Voldemort raised his eyebrows. “She wasn’t even seventy, was she? Gone far too soon.”
“A true paragon of Pureblood virtue,” Sylvie said. “My heart breaks for Cygnus and Walburga.”
“And for dear little Narcissa, our Lucius’ little love,” Abraxas cooed. “She’ll be coming home from Hogwarts for the funeral, along with Andromeda and Bellatrix. And, of course, Walburga’s boys will come. Sirius and Regulus.”
Voldemort felt cold. Regulus Black, the boy who would steal his Horcrux and replace it with a decoy. He chewed his lip and nodded.
“When is the funeral?”
“It’s on Saturday, at Grimmauld Place,” said Abraxas. “The family is having a private interment, and then the reception’s at the house.”
“Yes. Of course. Well, Hermione and I will be there.” Voldemort folded his hands on the table. Sylvie Malfoy looked utterly scandalised. She scoffed.
“You mean to bring a Muggle-born to the funeral of a witch like Irma Black?” she asked incredulously. “What sort of offence to the family do you -”
“Now, now, Sylvie.” Abraxas patted his wife’s arm. “Everyone in our community has incredible respect for Lord… for the man before you. If he wants to bring the witch who is his weapon with him to a funeral, that is his right.”
Sylvie’s cheeks flushed red. “It is not correct,” she insisted. “That girl should not be there.”
“Opinion duly noted, Sylvie,” Voldemort said with a little smile. “Thank you.”
“Cygnus. I am so very sorry for the loss of your mother,” said Voldemort, plucking two glasses of Elf-made wine from a passing tray and handing one to Hermione. She murmured her thanks. Cygnus’ face fell as he bowed a little in the large parlour of the house at Grimmauld Place.
“Thank you so very much for coming, sir,” he said. “And Madam Granger. How good to see you.”
“So sorry, Mr Black,” Hermione said, but she seemed distracted. She was staring across the room at wild-haired Bellatrix Black, who stood sipping at her own glass of wine and gazing straight at Voldemort.
Legilimens, Voldemort thought, and he pushed into Bellatrix’s head.
He is the most wonderful, magnificent human on the face of the planet. If I never do anything but serve him, I’ll die happy. All I want is to kiss his feet. I wonder what he smells like. I wonder if I could ever convince him to touch me, if I could ever convince him to -
Voldemort wrenched himself out of Bellatrix’s head and frowned. He put his hand to the small of Hermione’s back and said to Cygnus Black III,
“I hope you’re taking a few days off of work.”
“I am. Just a little respite,” Cygnus affirmed. “It’s good having the girls home for just a little while through this.”
“Well. We won’t keep you,” Voldemort said, and he nodded. He led Hermione away by her back, and he noticed that she was staring straight at the cluster of Black sisters. Her mind was shut off to him, he realised. She had a wall up; he couldn’t feel anything from her. He wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking about Draco Malfoy, looking at his mother Narcissa? Was she thinking about the way Bellatrix had carved the word Mudblood into her skin? Was she pondering how Andromeda Black had married a Muggle-born and had been disowned by her family? He couldn’t tell. Her mind was utterly empty. Her Occlumency was strong and powerful.
“Shall we go say hello?” he asked her quietly. He looked down, and Hermione stared up at him with wide, welled eyes. She did not want to talk to Bellatrix, he could tell. He did not want to talk to Narcissa Black. But he knew they needed to do so. He needed to see whether or not Hermione could demonstrate true loyalty to him even among the people she had once considered her truest enemies. He guided her toward the gaggle of Black sisters, and Bellatrix awkwardly curtsied a little as they approached. Lucius Malfoy, who was standing near Narcissa, bowed his head.
“Sir!” Lucius bellowed, just a little too enthusiastically. “We have not seen one another since I left for the Hogwarts Express. How has your autumn been?”
Voldemort narrowed his eyes and smirked. From what Hermione had shown him in her memories, Lucius Malfoy would grow to become a simpering sycophant, pliable and desperate for attention and approval. Voldemort reached for the boy’s forearm and said firmly,
“Your mother and father are deeply hospitable, and your family’s loyalty will not be soon forgotten, Mr Malfoy. How is school?”
“School is… dull,” Lucius intoned, rolling his eyes a little. “Cissy’s presence makes it bearable.”
“Oh, Lucius,” Narcissa giggled a bit, and Hermione choked out a little sound from beside Voldemort. He licked his lips and said,
“Friends. Allow me to introduce Madam Hermione Granger. She is, shall we say, my most treasured associate at this time. New to our circle, and very valuable. Spend ten minutes conversing with her, and you’ll see why I’ve become utterly impressed by her capabilities.”
“Quite the introduction, My Lord,” Hermione muttered. He slid his hand around her waist and pulled her a little closer. Bellatrix noticed. Her mind flared with emerald envy, and her wide dark eyes glinted. She curled up her lips as her thoughts went into a frenzied whirl.
Granger! Mudblood name. Daddy wrote and said he had a Mudblood weapon; is this the weapon? He wants her. He’s holding her. But she isn’t even pretty, and she’s filthy, and - oh, it makes my blood boil just thinking about the two of them -
Voldemort quirked up half his mouth and realised he was on thin ice. If he pushed Bellatrix away, he risked alienating a very valuable soldier. He needed her to stay cloying, to stay loyal. He needed Bellatrix to crave him. He released Hermione’s waist and stepped over toward Bellatrix. He reached for her hand and took it in his, and he brought her knuckles to his lips. He kissed her fingers and then hovered over her and asked,
“How’s school going for you, Bella?”
She was breathless then, he could feel. Her heart was pounding. Her mind was skittering around like a billywig in flight. She finally settled on two words.
“It’s fine.”
“Just fine?” Voldemort tipped his head and lowered her hand. Bellatrix mumbled,
“Slughorn’s Potions lessons are a bore. Other than that, it’s just fine.”
“I trust you’ll be a good friend of mine once you leave school, Bella,” Voldemort purred. Bellatrix grinned and nodded. Voldemort took a step back from her and then nodded at the little crowd of Hogwarts students before him. “Good day to you all. My condolences. Hermione, step outside with me for a moment, will you?”
“Yes, all right,” Hermione grumbled. She followed him as he walked away from the crowd, as he went out into the corridor and approached the stairs. He did not speak as he climbed the stairs and went down the narrow corridor on the first floor. He went into the first room on his left, which appeared to be a library, and he waited until Hermione followed him in. He shut the door behind her and cleared his throat. She stared blankly at the bookshelves and blinked.
“You understand why I had to do that,” he said. “Why I had to give Bellatrix something like that. I was in her head; she was sick with envy whilst I had my arm around you and whilst I spoke so highly of you. She was spitting venom in her mind because I was possessive of you.”
Hermione stared up at him and said, “You don’t belong to me. Master.”
He tried to work past the knot in his throat, and he whispered, “No, I suppose I don’t.”
“So it wouldn’t do to be jealous,” Hermione insisted. Once more he tried to push into her thoughts, just a little, but he was met with a wall of resistance so firm and mighty that he knew he’d have to fight to tear past it at all. He cleared his throat and said,
“I ought to tell you that I intend on eliminating James Potter.”
Hermione’s eyes flashed, and he sensed a red flare in her head. But it quickly settled, and she blinked a few times before she said,
“You will do what you need to do to protect us all. What you need to do to win.”
“And that’s what you want,” he confirmed. “You want me to win.”
“I was sent back in time because the experience I lived was deeply flawed,” Hermione told him. “The wrong people died. The wrong people suffered. The wrong people won. The wrong people lost. I was sent back in time by O.S. and friends because -”
“Odysseus Siegel.” Voldemort took a deep breath. Hermione’s mouth fell open, and she shook her head.
“I’m sorry; who?”
“O.S. is Odysseus Siegel,” Voldemort told her. “He’s the one that made your Time-Turner. He’s the one that sent you back to me.”
Hermione’s eyes rimmed red at once, and her lips trembled. “How do you know that?”
“Because, years ago, he told me that you were coming,” Voldemort informed her. “Well. He said that someone was coming, and that when she came, I ought to listen to her, because she would do well for me. I wrote to him, just a few days ago, to see if he’ll come to England to meet with us. I want to know if he’s been jumping around in time. I want to know what he knows.”
Hermione nodded. She gazed up at Voldemort as something seemed to settle over her. Suddenly she seemed deeply at peace. Her eyes were almost glassy, and she’d stopped shaking. She took a very long breath and said,
“I’m here to change what happens, My Lord. Of course I am not going to be jealous of you talking to Bellatrix, because I… I…”
She approached him, putting her hands on his chest and touching her lips to the front of his black brocade robes. She hummed onto him,
“You may not belong to me, but I think I might belong to you.”
“Hermione.” Voldemort started to push her toward a bookshelf. She backed up until she hit the shelf, and then she gasped as he tipped her head up and bent down. He crushed her mouth with a kiss and pushed his tongue between her lips, dragging it around the roof of her mouth. He suckled on her bottom lip and stroked at her jaw with one hand and her ribcage with the other. He finally pulled his lips from hers and murmured onto her mouth,
“Do you honestly think I would want that maniacal little child instead of you?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted, “but it would be your -”
“She’s not a chess player like you,” Voldemort interrupted. Hermione laughed a little and whispered,
“I don’t actually like chess.”
“You know damned well what I mean.” Voldemort kissed her again and then pushed her face aside, dragging his lips up her jaw. He put his mouth beside her ear and whispered, “I have no idea what you are thinking right now because your Occlumency is so strong. You are powerful, Hermione; do you think that I do not find that… more than a little… mmph.”
He started to grind against her, and Hermione frantically whimpered. “Oh, there’s a funeral going on downstairs. There’s a funeral. We need to stop.”
“I don’t feel like stopping,” Voldemort informed her, and he tightened his grip on her waist. He rolled his hips toward hers, feeling himself come alive, but he knew Hermione was right. They couldn’t have sex in the library of this house whilst a full-fledged funeral went on downstairs. If someone walked in, the way Sylvie Malfoy had done… he could ward up the room, but was it worth it?
“Later,” he mumbled, staggering back from Hermione. He dragged his wrist over his lips and told her, “As soon as we get back to Malfoy Manor, we’re going to have dinner and then we’re going to go to your suite, and your clothes are coming off.”
Hermione smirked and nodded, standing up away from the bookshelf. “That sounds like quite a plan, My Lord. Now. We probably ought to go back downstairs, don’t you think?”
Author’s Note: Okay. So, Voldemort’s written to Odysseus Siegel. He’s told Hermione about Odysseus Siegel. Obviously, we’re going to get to know this guy a lot better. And plans are a’ brewin’ when it comes to James Potter. Good thing Hermione’s Occlumency is now so strong that she can completely block Voldemort from reading her reaction about stuff like that (and Bellatrix), huh? Thank you so very kindly for the feedback on the last chapter. I am so very grateful. I really appreciate you reading.