Expecto Patronum
"Coming!"
Hermione dashed out from her black and white bedroom, sweeping her plush burgundy dressing gown around herself and yanking at the tie around her waist. Someone was knocking insistently on the door of her suite. She had a feeling she knew who it was, but just the same, she was bundling up. She went through the suite's little sitting room and pulled open the door to the corridor, and before her stood Lord Voldemort, swaying where he stood and holding a bottle of firewhisky in one hand and an empty tumbler in the other.
"Hello, My Lord." Hermione frowned, for it was past midnight and he seemed awfully drunk. He stepped into her room, smelling strongly of alcohol, and he used his shoulder to shove the door shut. He sniffed, poured himself a little more firewhisky, and swigged it down. He seethed through clenched teeth and reminded Hermione in a low growl,
"You told me to spare you the details."
Hermione's stomach clenched. James Potter. She shut her eyes and shook her head. Her eyes seared, scarlet heat taking her over for a moment. Harry's father was dead. Harry Potter would never be born. She'd killed Harry, hadn't she? She'd made Harry become Un-Born. She'd erased his life. His friendship with Ron, his romance with Ginny, his fatherhood. His Quidditch career, his heroism. All gone. And James' swirling romance with Lily Evans was gone, too. His brief experience as a loving father to Harry was gone. Hermione hadn't told Lord Voldemort to do it, but she'd tacitly agreed that it might be for the best.
And something still tugged within her, telling her that she was right to believe that. Perhaps in this world, Severus Snape and Lily Evans would become dearest friends before school and then remain close at Hogwarts. Perhaps here the two of them would stay happy together.
"Lily," she whispered. She opened her eyes and stared at Voldemort. "Lily Evans. Harry's mother. She's Muggle-born; she and Severus Snape -"
"My prediction is that the wisest course of action will be to leave that situation well enough alone," Voldemort slurred, his words an absolute fog. He tried to drink from his glass, but it was empty. He shook his head and said, "I'm not going to… to eliminate Muggle-borns. They'll have a place this time around. So."
"So a Half-Blood like Severus Snape could be happy with a Muggle-born like Lily Evans?" Hermione wondered why she cared. Why did she care at all whether Snape was happy, whether Lily got to live on? None of it mattered if there was no Harry, did it? She gulped and studied Voldemort's face, which suddenly seemed more scarred than ever. He let out a shaking breath and licked his damaged lips.
"I tried to do it so that you would not despise me. I did not take out Fleamont or Euphemia Potter. I didn't even kill the House-Elf. They were Stunned and Obliviated."
Hermione tried to tell him that he'd promised to spare her the details, but then she realised she wanted to know what had happened. She didn't want some third-hand report from the Daily Prophet. She sniffled, feeling a tear run down her cheek. She swiped at the tear and asked in a broken little voice,
"Did James feel any pain?"
"No. He felt nothing at all," Voldemort promised. He drank directly from the bottle of firewhisky then. He shrugged and admitted, "I don't know why I'm drunk; I've never gotten drunk."
After committing murder, he meant. Hermione shut her eyes and felt sick. She reached for the bottle of firewhisky in Voldemort's hand and brought it to her own lips. She knocked it back and drank, feeling it sear her throat as she chugged. She sputtered and coughed as she dragged her wrist over her lips, passing the bottle back to Voldemort.
"He was just a little boy," Hermione complained, suddenly snatching the bottle back and swigging again. It burned her throat so badly that she whimpered in pain, and when she shoved the bottle of firewhisky back to Voldemort, she started to feel her head spin. She stumbled away from him, going back toward her bedroom. She heard his footsteps padding on the floor behind her, and his voice was a low rumble as he promised her,
"He felt no pain. He felt nothing. The parents remember nothing. The House-Elf remembers nothing. None of them will go to Azkaban over it; it's a tragic disappearance. A mystery. And you know that it needed to happen."
Hermione tried to tell herself that he was wrong. She tried to tell herself that she'd been sent back in time to destroy the Dark Lord. But she had no idea anymore why she'd come back in time. Her wedding rings, the one Ron Weasley had put on her finger, were in her Extended handbag. Her mind bore no confidence anymore that she was truly an enemy of Lord Voldemort. She had no clarity of thought about Albus Dumbledore these days. She felt confusion swirling in her mind, and as she silently stripped off her heavy dressing gown, she thought that she barely recognised herself.
She wordlessly climbed into her bed, slithering between the sheets and pulling herself up into a ball. Voldemort stood behind her, and she heard him sniff a bit and ask,
"Shall I go now?"
"No." Hermione shut her eyes. "Stay, Master, please."
She heard the little clunk of glass on wood as he set down the bottle of firewhisky and the empty tumbler. She heard him sliding off his dragonhide boots and slipping off his outer robe. And then she felt pressure on the bed behind her as he moved beneath the blankets and spooned her, wrapping an arm around her. He smelled of firewhisky and rain. She breathed it in, noticing hints of other aromas. Leather. Wood. She sank back against him and murmured,
"You did what you had to do. I have to believe that."
"Your mind is entirely closed to me. I have no idea what you're thinking," he complained. Hermione turned her head a little and met his eyes. She took down her mental shields, erasing the images of cloudless night skies, of vast empty lakes. She felt the thud of his Legilimency pushing against her head, and she admitted him.
I have absolutely no idea whether or not killing a little boy will ever be the right thing to do. It doesn't feel like the right thing to do. But, then, it doesn't feel like the right thing to do to allow things to play out the way I lived them, either. That feels wrong. Eliminating James Potter now, before he falls in love with Lily Evans and has Harry as his son, may well save lives. It may ease a great deal of suffering. And, since I the James I knew died, too, it's a chance I'm willing to take. I am not happy that a child is dead. But if there is any chance that this earlier death changes things for the better, then I am glad for that. I trust you. My Lord, I trust you.
She pushed up her walls again, blacking him out of her mind with blots of ink inside her skull. She rotated toward him and wondered if her Occlumency would hold in sleep. She wondered what he would see in her dreams. Would she ever be able to be at peace with him? Or would she always need to be awake, alert, on guard? She stared into his dark eyes, noticing the one that was drooping, and she asked,
"Did the damage happen all at once, or did it get worse each time?"
Half his mouth quirked up, and he tucked Hermione's hair behind her ear. "It got worse each time. The first time, my skin got a little pale. But I was still a very handsome Hogwarts student. The second time, I got a few strands of grey in my hair and a few scars on my arms and chest. The third time, my cheek and chin shattered and wouldn't heal, no matter what spells or potions I tried to fix them. The fourth time, my eyelid and the other scars came. My skin grew paler. My hair got worse. The fifth time, I started to look waxy. Worn. Broken."
"Doesn't it worry you?" Hermione asked. "Splintering yourself like that?"
He huffed a breath and whispered, "The things we'll do for immortality."
Hermione shut her eyes, knowing she should not say what she was about to say. "If you're going to win, you need to be more protective of them. Of your Horcruxes. Some of them… we had too easy a time destroying. We found them too easily. Ravenclaw's diadem at Hogwarts? The diary? You need to be more careful, Master."
"Mm-hmm." He petted her hair and kissed her forehead. "I shall be very careful this time. Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind that you know about them."
Suddenly Hermione felt cold. She pulled back and met Voldemort's gaze. She shook her head and whispered, "I'm not here to destroy you."
"I know that," he told her. "Just the same, I'm going to move them all, and I'm not going to tell you where I put them. I know you'll understand."
"Of course." Hermione wrenched her eyes shut. She remembered being in the Forest of Dean with Harry and Ron, struggling to destroy the locket Horcrux. Who in this existence would ruin Voldemort's Horcruxes? Could she bring herself to destroy his soul, now that she knew him? Could she stab a Basilisk fang into his soul now that she was cradled in his arms?
"You are somewhere else," he whispered, and she reached up to hold his face. He was drunk, she thought. His dark eyes were glassy. She stared into his gaze, bathed in moonlight, and she mumbled,
"I'm right here with you."
The next evening, the Malfoys were hosting Nott, Avery, and Cygnus and Druella Black for a small dinner party. This would be the first time Hermione would sit beside Voldemort at a social event as more than just his weapon. He'd told her that he would make it very plain to his old school friends that Hermione was his witch. So she'd tried to dress for the occasion in the best way she knew how.
She'd worn a dress she'd brought from 2004 - a knee-length, long-sleeved dress with a deep V neckline, an explosion of bright red sequins. It was abjectly festive, clearly intended for the winter season, and Hermione paired it with knee-high black boots with stiletto heels. She put on black beaded earrings and pulled her hair into a high ponytail, slicking it with Sleekeazy's until it was straight and smooth. She used the cosmetics she'd brought to line her eyes with thick black lines, applying loads of mascara, and then she put on a sheen of bright red lipstick.
There was knocking on the door that led from her suite to the corridor, and Hermione's boots clacked on the tile floor as she crossed the sitting room. She pulled open the door and found Voldemort before her in neatly tailored black velvet robes. His eyes instantly went round as saucers and quite wide, and his mouth actually fell open. He shook his head and said incredulously,
"You can't go down there like that."
"What? I mean to say… is something wrong, Master?" Hermione glanced down at herself. She didn't think her dress was particularly revealing. She frowned up at Voldemort, whose cheeks had gone pink.
"Abraxas will…" He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Well, fine. Let him stare. Let him ogle. I know where I stand."
Hermione smirked and walked out into the corridor, pulling the door shut. She started to walk down the corridor with Voldemort toward the staircase, and he told her quietly,
"Wait."
She turned around, and he reached to cup her jaw in his hand. He bent towards her and asked softly,
"Have you enchanted your makeup to stay on?"
"Yes," Hermione replied, "I have."
"Mmm. Well, then." Voldemort kissed her, quite delicately, and suddenly she was taken back to the first time she'd been kissed by him in this corridor. He'd taken her by surprise, and she'd yelped against his mouth, reaching for his robes. She took hold of his arms now, rubbing at his biceps and humming onto his lips.
"I can't wait to show them," he whispered, and Hermione pulled back.
"Show them what, My Lord?"
He pushed his lips against her forehead and murmured, "You."
He slid his hand into hers then and pulled her toward the stairs, leading her down to the first floor. Hermione was surprised that he was holding her hand all the way to the dining room, but as they approached, he held fast. Hermione let him lead her into the dining room, and when they entered, Nott and Avery were speaking with Abraxas Malfoy, and Cygnus and Druella Black were speaking with Sylvie.
"Good evening," said Lord Voldemort as they strode into the room. Nott and Avery turned away from Abraxas, and Nott immediately bowed his curly head. Avery touched his hand to his narrow chest and inclined his chin, and then Cygnus Black III boomed,
"Sir! Madam Granger! So good to see the both of you."
"Cygnus. I've been hearing rather incessantly from your eldest daughter," said Voldemort lightly. "She is so very anxious to work with me."
"So she is," Cygnus grinned. "Our Bellatrix is very eager when she sets her mind to something."
"Quite so," Voldemort sniffed. Everyone took their seats then, and Voldemort pulled out Hermione's chair for her. She sat beside him, with Abraxas Malfoy to her right and Sylvie Malfoy across the table from her.
"Madam Granger," purred Abraxas as they all put their napkins on their laps, "Your red dress is so… stylish… if you'll allow me to say so."
"Commenting on ladies' fashion, Abraxas?" snapped Sylvie. "How very strange."
"Thank you, Mr Malfoy. It's just an old thing I had," Hermione insisted. She noticed then that thin, pale Avery from down the table was flicking his pale eyes to her every now and then. Voldemort glanced between Abraxas and Avery, and his cheeks went pink as he cleared his throat roughly. He seized Hermione's left hand in his right one and planted them on the table.
"But you must show them all your wonderful trick before dinner, Hermione," Voldemort said a bit loudly. Hermione was confused, and she frowned at him in bemusement. She squeezed his hand a little, and he gave her a very deliberate look and said softly, "Take out your wand, Hermione, and show them all your otter."
Hermione flushed hot then. She nodded and reached into the pocket of her long-sleeved red sequined dress, pulling out her vine wand. She cleared her throat as the table went quiet. She pushed her chair back a little and aimed her wand high above the table, and she shut her eyes. Once upon a time, summoning a very happy memory had involved her parents, or Harry and Ron. But now, the first very happy memory that settled into her mind was the idea of being naked in bed with Lord Voldemort, of kissing him fiercely whilst his arms were wrapped around her body. He was pulling her close, his leg snaring over hers. And suddenly Hermione was flooded with bliss, with complete happiness. She grinned and exclaimed rather breathlessly,
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
She opened her eyes to see a white flash of light, a flaring burst of explosive force from her wand. Suddenly a fully corporeal Patronus had taken form - her beloved otter. It began flitting around the room, twirling around and swimming through unseen waters. Everyone at the table gasped, and Hermione smiled as she directed the Patronus. She drove it about, moving the otter round Nott's and Avery's heads, then bringing it back and settling it beside Sylvie Malfoy. Sylvie's face went pale, then scarlet. Her blue eyes went very wide, and her lips fell open in shock. Abraxas clapped and whooped in celebration, and finally Hermione flicked her wand to release the spell and dissolve the otter from thin air.
"Was that a… a… Patronus Charm?" asked Druella Black disbelievingly.
"Indeed it was," Voldemort confirmed. "A fully corporeal Patronus Charm. It is, I assure you, the mere tip of the iceberg when it comes to Hermione's magical abilities."
"And you're self-taught," Nott said, his thick brows furrowing. "You didn't go to school."
"Isn't she an absolute marvel?" Voldemort put his hand between Hermione's shoulder blades and leaned over, kissing her temple. "She is, I think, the most powerful witch I've yet known. And you are aware, my friends, that I spent my time on the Continent encountering many powerful witches and wizards."
"My goodness," breathed Druella. Cygnus Black touched his napkin to his lips and coughed quietly, seeming almost alarmed by what Hermione could do. Voldemort continued almost brazenly,
"You're all aware that I am a gifted Occlumens. Avery, you remember that time when I was Head Boy and you'd smuggled in Firewhisky and I had to pull out of your head where you'd gotten it? Hmm. Anyway. Hermione can completely shut me out. She's by far the most skilled Occlumens I've ever encountered, and, again, I've looked into many minds."
"My Lord, you flatter me," Hermione purred, turning her head towards him. Voldemort curled up half his mouth and shook his head.
"On the contrary. They must know you as I do."
The table was very quiet then, until at last Sylvie Malfoy said in a breathless voice,
"The salad is here!"
People ate with low conversation for awhile; Nott blathered on for some time about his work, and then Avery asked Abraxas questions about Quidditch that almost turned into an argument until Sylvie Malfoy insisted upon a change of topic. That led to Druella Black stating that she was absolutely positive her youngest daughter was madly in love with Lucius Malfoy, and everyone giggled at the teenagers' expense. Voldemort stayed quiet through it all, glancing between Abraxas Malfoy and Avery for a while. As he ate his chicken, he reached for Hermione's left hand and brushed his thumb over her bare fourth finger, where her wedding rings had once been. She shivered a little at his touch, for it felt rather meaningful just now.
Dessert came, and it was a rather delicious coconut almond cake. Hermione chewed a bite as Sylvie Malfoy and Druella Black chatted about getting new robes made for the Christmas season. Beside her, Abraxas Malfoy dragged his fork through his lips and stared right at Hermione. She withered a little under the weight of his gaze, and when she met his eyes, he blinked at her and then smiled a little.
"Malfoy," Voldemort snapped suddenly, so harshly that Hermione startled. She glanced back to see that Voldemort's cheeks had gone very red, and he was glaring daggers at Abraxas Malfoy. He shook his head silently, and when Hermione looked back at Abraxas, the blond man's face had flushed crimson. His throat bobbed, and he whispered,
"I do apologise."
"Hermione, have you finished your cake?" Voldemort asked, licking his lips. Hermione thought perhaps it would be best for her to be done with her cake, so she just nodded and pushed back her chair.
"I'm so very tired. Early night tonight. Thank you kindly for dinner, Mr and Madame Malfoy," she said, standing.
"What Hermione means is that I'm awfully eager to get her upstairs," Voldemort said softly, directly to Abraxas. Sylvie Malfoy looked confused, and a bit scandalised, but she huffed and said,
"Of course. Do… sleep… well."
"Thank you." Hermione's cheeks went hot, and she felt Voldemort's hand go to the small of her back. He led her out of the dining room, not saying another word to the other guests. Once they were outside the dining room, in the corridor, she expected him to lead her to the stairwell. Instead, she found herself being dragged over to a wall, and all of a sudden he was pressing her roughly against the wood paneling. Hermione gasped as Voldemort put a hand on either side of her shoulders.
"What are you doing, Master?" she hissed. He bent down and crushed her mouth with a ferocious kiss. His tongue plunged between her lips, and his hand went to her waist. His other hand braced him against the wall. Hermione moaned a little and arched her back, leaning up against him. From inside the dining room, she heard Abraxas Malfoy say,
"Be right back, Sylvie."
"Where are you going?" Hermione heard Sylvie ask.
"I'll only be a moment." Abraxas' voice sounded dull, off. A chair scraped, and then there were footsteps. He was coming out into the corridor, Hermione realised. Then she thought that Voldemort had made this happen. He'd Confounded Abraxas to come out here, to see this. He wanted Abraxas to see him kissing Hermione. So she snared her arms around Voldemort's shoulders and writhed in his arms until his hand slid to her backside. She tangled her tongue with his until he grunted, and then she heard Abraxas say quietly from beside them,
"Apologies, sir."
Voldemort ignored Abraxas, kissing Hermione and rubbing at her hip. Still Abraxas did not move. Hermione glanced to her right to see Abraxas standing there, flexing his hands, looking terribly embarrassed. He bowed his head, but then he looked up as though he'd been forced to do so. Imperiused, Hermione wondered, or Confounded? It was difficult to tell. Either way, Abraxas Malfoy was not in control of the way he was standing and watching Lord Voldemort stake a claim over the witch Abraxas had hungrily been eyeing.
Finally, Voldemort pulled away from Hermione and dragged his thumb over his lip. He narrowed his eyes at Abraxas and said,
"Lovely wife you've got waiting for you in that dining room."
"She is, sir," Abraxas agreed.
"I'm going upstairs with Hermione now," Voldemort said, raising his eyebrows. Hermione panted a little as she watched Abraxas' reaction. The blond man dragged his fingers through his hair and whispered,
"Goodnight. Thank you."
"Goodnight, Mr Malfoy," Hermione said softly. She slid her fingers through Voldemort's, and she let him walk her toward the stairwell.
Author's Note: Yeah! Hermione got to show off in front of the old school friends! And more Possessive!Voldemort. Now, who's ready to meet Odysseus Siegel? Ready? Mwah hahaha.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and a huge thank you for reviewing.