The Things We Do For Love

THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE

CHAPTER 3

"You have served me well, Lily."

The cold harshness of the voice caused Hermione to shiver.

"I do what you wish, my Lord, nothing more," she replied in her monotonous voice.

He sneered at her. "Ah, yes, I have forgotten how modest my little flower is."

'Little flower, indeed,' Hermione thought in scorn. This flower of his had thorns, thorns of poison. She detested his nickname for her. A nickname was to show affection, a friendship or a bond between two people, definitely not the bond of master and servant.

When she had failed to respond, the Dark Lord continued, "There is a matter of great importance that I wish you to see to..."

Deep, calming, cleansing breaths steadied Hermione's nerves. "You need only name it, my Lord. I am, of course, honored to do your bidding." She *just* managed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"As you should be," he retorted, whirling about to pace the ruined floors, his black robes whipping out behind him as if they were starving flames hungrily reaching to devour her.

Hermione took this chance to glance anywhere save the man that had stolen her life away...No, that's not right, she corrected herself...I gave it to him...A cold sneer curled her lips upwards, here comes the irony, Lily truly loved irony.

The moon was steadily rising and the sunset inevitable. Hopefully, she would be able to receive her orders, report to the Ministry and then finally turn in for the night.

The day had been terribly long, almost unending. What with Harry's perceptive questioning and being summoned out in the middle of class, now, not only did she have the pleasant company of the Dark Lord to put up with, but she also had interrogation and a trip to and from the Ministry to look forward to. Her day kept getting longer and longer.

Her eyes continued to roam, ignoring the muttering from her master. They were at an old ruined castle, perhaps a hold, she couldn't tell, but they were in Ireland. The Celtic design and paintings were enough to determine that.

Ironically, she liked it there, albeit, not *why* she was there, but the place in general. There was something about the old ruins, she couldn't exactly explain what. Something that had stood so proud, so strong, reduced to a pile of rubble; much like her life, she faintly noted.

"I want you to kidnap Hermione Granger."

That statement protruding her thoughts, Lily's head snapped to the Dark Lord, who had stopped his frantic pacing and stood with an air demanding respect.

"Come again, my Lord?" she asked, her voice raising in pitch.

He took a dangerous step towards her and repeated himself, something he *hated* doing. "You are going to kidnap Hermione Granger and bring her here to me."

He was just begging for her to slip up and give him an excuse to punish her. He was funny like that.

Hermione absolutely loved these moments, for it was the only defiance allowed to her. It was almost as if she were winning a battle of wills against him.

Sensing it was one of those rare moments, Hermione smiled sweetly at him, eyes as hard as stones, and proclaimed with a small bow, "As you wish, my Lord." She would worry about the prospect of kidnapping herself later...

He scoffed at her compliance and resumed his frantic pacing. "It will not be easy, mind you. She is at Hogwarts with that old bumbling prat and she's practically Potter's shadow." He spat the name Potter. "But that is why it must be her."

Hermione's curiosity was pricked, making her forget her place as she dared question, "Why must it be her, why not the red-haired boy?"

The Dark Lord snapped his face to her, taking quick strides until he was a mere two inches away from her. She shouldn't have done that, she belatedly recalled, but she did not lower her head in obedience; if anything, her submission of guilt would make it worse.

"The girl is a Mudblood, where the boy isn't. I can make two points that way...Do you disagree?"

She dared not answer that. No matter what she would do now, it wouldn't end good. Had he wanted to inflict pain on her that badly?...Apparently so.

She had angered the Dark Lord; there was no escaping punishment now. She would be in no shape to report to the Ministry afterwards, if the fire blazing in his red eyes was any indication.

Bloody hell, the bastard didn't know it, but he just made her day twice as long and cut her night twice as short since she would have to get up early to give her information to the Ministry.

"Perhaps my little flower has been too pampered. Perhaps I should teach her a lesson of respect..." he concluded, raising his wand towards her as she stood ready for the pain to tear her apart.

And he taught her, lord, how he taught her something that night...

"How are you feeling Hermione?" Harry questioned with narrowed eyes gazing into the fire as he heard Hermione's late arrival.

"Fan-bloody-tastic, Harry," she gasped, unsuccessfully covering the strain of her voice.

Her whole body ached and screamed angrily at her, demanding to know how she could do this, day in and night out. She ignored the pain well, however, wincing only slightly as she gazed around at the Gryffindor common room, which was completely empty at this late hour, save herself and Harry.

Thinking about him made her look at him. Finding herself under his shocked gaze, she recalled her current condition.

She scoffed at his look of horror upon seeing her so abused looking. "Honestly Harry, it's not that bad."

He had to swallow several times before he could trust himself to talk. "Who did that to you?" he asked in a dangerously calm voice.

He would kill whoever it was, he had already concluded. Upon hearing her pained voice, Harry had turned to face her, only to be blessed with the sight of dark purple bruises up and down her arms and a small gash under her right eye. When he saw her, the reasons he had stayed up waiting for her flew out of his mind, leaving only one coherent thought: He was going to kill the bloody bastard that had dared raise his hand at Hermione, the bastard that had dared strike her; ironically, no one had *physically* beat her.

Hermione could see this, so clearly in his emerald green eyes; eyes usually filled with a calming kindness not this barely kept rage. The fact that this outrage was on her behalf touched Hermione so deeply she almost broke down in tears. She did not, however. She saved her tears for the poor helpless fools who had their lives taken away from them by some girl that claimed it was out of her love. Other than those times of weakness, Hermione never let her guard down enough to cry and reveal her true emotions.

"It's not as bad as it looks," she tried, and failed, to soothe.

Harry was far from appeased. "Who did that to you?" he repeated, his voice strong and firm.

Silence descended.

'Well, in a way, you did Harry. You are the reason I put up with it all. I have saved your life so many bloody times, Harry, but you don't know that, hardly anyone knows...Are you happy with what my love for you has wrought? Well, are you, you bloody bastard?' she screamed in her head, only in her head, never aloud.

"Who?" he snarled, losing his patience. He was unfamiliar with the emotion coursing through him, the burning lust for revenge. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and he continued to glare at her.

His outburst pricked her annoyance. "Well, if you must know, no one did..."

"Don't lie to me Hermione, that's all you seem to be doing lately," he cut her off venomously, shooting out of his chair in his frustration and anger.

"You lie about what you feel, where you go...tell me Hermione, where *did* you go after you left Snape's class, hm-m? Because it sure as hell wasn't the Hospital Wing, I went there looking for you." He was standing in front of her; well, towering over her more likely.

'Harry's tall,' seemed to be the only thought Hermione's brilliant mind could process at the moment. Hermione herself only came up to just below his shoulder, and at the moment, he was angry. A tall, angry Harry was not good.

His size overwhelmed her as she stood, gazing dumbfounded, into those swirling green eyes. His masculine energy enfolded her along with the heat radiating from his strong body, causing her whole body to burn in a *very* pleasant fire.

"You must have just missed me then," she whispered breathlessly, feeling her face heat up in a wild blush.

He took another step closer, their bodies almost completely pressing up against each other. Was it Hermione, or did it suddenly get terribly hot in the room? Perhaps it was just Harry; oh lord, that thought wasn't helping her one bit...

Harry lowered his head towards hers, causing her to inhale sharply. Her heart was almost beating out of her chest, and she couldn't seem to be able to catch her breath.

"I asked her if you had left and she said you never even came in to see her," he announced, his voice sounding low and husky, even to his own ears.

Their faces were centimeters apart now, nothing was stopping him from just bending down and...

Hermione's thought was cut off abruptly as she realized what Harry was doing to her.

'Bloody hell, I'm having sexual feelings for my best friend,' her mind raced. 'I can't have sexual feelings for anyone, it's not safe, especially for Harry...'

Try telling your heart that, kid, sneered a nasty little voice in the back of her head that sounded oddly like Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, shut up you," she proclaimed as she would have done to the prat's slimy face. A moment or so passed before she realized Malfoy wasn't there and she had proclaimed her sentiments out loud.

Her statement slammed into Harry, ruthlessly destroying the fragile spell that had fallen over them. He drew back as though burned, in a way he had been, and blushed furiously. He had been about to kiss his best friend... What was wrong with him? Bloody hell, she had smelled so sweet to him, like apple cinnamon, brown sugar and ginger snaps. Her hair looked so soft, begging him to run his long fingers through the wealth of it.

Harry mentally shook himself. If he kept this up, he would find himself taking a cold shower for a good part of the night.

Distance. Distance was what they needed. Harry retreated to the safety of a chair, while Hermione remained where it was she stood, looking somewhat flustered.

"Why do you lie to me 'Mione? Why do you have to be so deceptive?"

Hermione felt the familiar gut wrenching guilt twist her heart. He didn't know the half of it and already she had hurt him. He sounded so sad that he had found out she had been lying to him, so miserable. If he only knew... She couldn't let it go on like this, yet she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. Not yet, but she would tell him something.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Hermione went to a miserable looking Harry. Kneeling down in between his legs and cupping his face in her firm but gentle hands, their eyes locked magnetically.

"Harry, listen to me very closely..." she began, intent on holding his gaze.

He nodded slightly, trying to ignore how soft and smooth Hermione's hands were...

"I have reasons for doing the things I do; valid reasons. And it is because of those reasons that I can't reveal anything I do to you, at least not yet. Harry, in time I will no doubt tell you everything, but when I'm ready, not when you are. My deception is what keeps me alive, Harry. It's what protects me, you, Ron, everyone at this bloody school. I know you can't possibly comprehend what I am telling you, but trust me Harry, because I care too much about you to confide in you."

Harry sat there, completely blown away by this change of events. His heart melted at the pleading note in her voice. She had been so sincere, so honest. It was the first time in weeks that Harry had seen the true Hermione. He could not process all of what she had just said, but he knew she was in far more serious trouble than he had first thought.

'My deception is what keeps me alive, Harry. It's what protects me, you, Ron, everyone at this bloody school...' Her words echoed in his head. This was serious, he couldn't handle this alone.

He could tell Ron, but he didn't want to worry him after he had just started dating Elisa Hinger, a sixth year Hufflepuff whom he had loved since first sight. Ron had his hands full with that crazy chit...

There was always Dumbledore, but Harry didn't have any fact to base his worry on yet, so he'd rather not go to him, not until he had something more concrete.

Sirius. Dear old Sirius, who had been cleared of all murder charges and had become the Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts professor starting this year, all at the help of some Ministry agent who had captured Peter. Harry frowned as he recalled trying to find out who had captured Wormtail. He wanted to thank this person so very much for bringing a little bit of justice to his parents' murder. He had only been told that it was some undercover spy for the Ministry, who preferred to remain anonymous...

If there was any justice in this cruel world, he would have found out who had helped his godfather...

Falling back to the present, Harry finally replied with a tired sigh, "I trust you Hermione." But I can't let you do this alone, he added silently.

And then she smiled at him, a real smile that melted Harry's insides and sent dozens of butterflies loose in his stomach. She placed her hands on his knees and pushed herself up.

Hermione stood in front of him for a moment, taking in the rare chance when *she* could look down at *him*. Bending slightly she kissed his forehead, right on his scar, and then retreated to the safety of her room.

Harry sat there alone in the warm common room, his knees burning hot from Hermione's sweet touch and forehead tingling from her silky soft lips. His mind faintly noted how she had tactfully avoided another one of his questions about who had hit her; but his mind was mostly occupied by noting how soft her hair felt, falling gently over his face as she had kissed him atop the head...

'Bloody hell, I'm having sexual feelings for my best friend,' was his only coherent thought as he numbly picked up his invisibility cloak from behind the chair and made his way to the bathrooms where he would take a nice, long...freezing, cold shower.

Apparently, he was having *very strong* sexual feelings for his best friend.