The Secrets of My Heart

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Chapter 6: Relief Lifting Up My Heart

Voldemort fumed silently the entire way back to his chambers. He'd found Pettigrew, the lousy rat, and told him to put Flintin the Vertinsle Chamber. His thin lips curved into a sneer. The Vertinsles had been masters of torture in the old days, just around the time when the Founders had built Hogwarts. Salazar Slytherin, in particular, had been extremely interested in their work, and had set up a room dedicated to them.

Godric Gryffindor had, to say the least, lost his temper. He'd said Slytherin had gone too far, and ordered him to get rid of it, that torture chambers had no place in a school. Slytherin had said that he didn't take orders from anyone, but had supposedly gotten rid of the instruments anyway.

Supposedly.

It was the key word, of course. He'd never gotten rid of them; they really were too valuable, even if they were made by Muggles. Salazar Slytherin had nothing against Muggles, actually, just against Muggle-born witches and wizards. His argument was that they knew nothing of their--the witches' and wizards', that is--ways, and would most likely expose them to the Muggle world. Seeing as how at that time witches and wizards were being persecuted mercilessly, many believed Slytherin had a valid point.

But he hadn't gotten rid of the instruments. He'd just ... hidden them. And, once again, said that only his heir would be able to find them. Meaning that it had to do with more snakes. The chamber had been left the way it was, but the instruments had been hidden. In plain view, really. You walked into the chamber, hissed "Open," in Parseltongue, and a staircase would come into view. It led further into the dungeons--not too far, actually, just enough to hide the things.

It was a lesser-known story, which was why most had never heard of it; but it was true. And that was what counted.

The purpose of locking Flintin there was just to forget about him. For a while, at least.But then, of course, when he needed to he would send his worst Death Eaters down to practice curses and hexes on the bastard.

Voldemort strode into his chambers, and his gaze fell upon his bed. Thankfully, there was no girl or woman in it this time. His eyes flickered over to the left, to the vanity. There was a small glass vial there. It held a small amount of Rhianna's blood--most likely mixed with a bit of his--left over from the bonding ceremony.

Thinking of the blood brought back the memory of Amanda.

And thinking of Amanda made him think of when something similar had almost happened to Rhianna.

Voldemort strode to the entrance hall of his mansion, scowling. Rhianna--he refused to call her Dumbledore, for the obvious reasons--had once again tried to escape. Would the bloody girl never give up? He'd never get anywhere if she kept doing this. But he knew very well that he'd never let her go free. There was too much at risk.

And as much as he hated to admit it, she was growing on him. He almost looked forward to seeing her, almost being the operative word, seeing as how just about the only time he did see her was after a botched escape. The rest of the time she was ensconced in her chamber, planning another escape.

The front door flew open and Voldemort glared at his servants. They cowered appropriately. Barely out of school, Lucius Malfoy and his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, stood on the front stoop. The latter two did whatever he told them to, and didn't ask questions. Yes, they were good servants.

Lucius, however... he had a bit of a rebellious streak in him. He'd have to keep an eye on that one.

"My lord," Lucius said, bowing deeply. Voldemort nodded his head almost imperceptibly before turning on his heal and heading to the upstairs drawing room. He heard the men follow him and sneered to himself.

Leaving them in the room, he headed to Rhianna's, feeling the need to check on her once more. He had a strange sixth sense about her that had become very handy since her almost-daily attempted escapes. He threw open the door, and found the room empty except for one lone house elf. He strode over to it and pointed his wand at the creature. "Where is she?" he growled menacingly.

The elf shook, "Me is not knowing, sir. Mistress said she would be going, but Linnanot know where, master." The creature continued to quake in fear, and Voldemort allowed a hint of a sneer to grace his face.

He strode back to the drawing room, intending to show his 'guests' out. He needed to be able to pay complete attention to the search for Rhianna. He couldn't believe she had disappeared again, so soon.

Just as he was nearing the room, his ears caught Lucius Malfoy's sickening voice. "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

A terrified shriek sounded from the room before it was silenced. Voldemort raced the rest of the way and burst into the room. Rhianna was on the floor, her clothes ripped. Lucius was standing over her, trying to free himself.

"Crucio!"Voldemort screamed.

Lucius was suddenly writhing on the floor in pain. Voldemort stepped in front of Rhianna, keeping his wand trained on Lucius, blocking her from the view of Malfoy's goons. They were leering at her as if she were a common prostitute. Which they undoubtedly thought she was, seeing as how she was in the Dark Lord's mansion, supposedly living off of him.

Voldemort didn't release the Cruciatus until he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up from Lucius' body and saw Rhianna looking at him pleadingly. "Please," she whispered. "Stop. He's a bloody bastard and he doesn't deserve to live, but please. Stop."

And he stopped. He never knew completely why. Perhaps it was because of her tear-stained face, and a long-forgotten emotion--pity. Or perhaps it was the fact that he had finished with Malfoy anyway.

But the best bet was that, for the first time since he had seen her, Rhianna was looking at him with something other than utter hatred and loathing present in her eyes. And that was worth anything, even if he didn't realize it then.

Voldemort smiled. A real, true smile.Even if most of the memory had been a sad one--he distinctly remembered trying to crush his bed post at one point--the end had always cheered him. Rhianna had looked at him with something other than hatred. It was the first time, and it hadn't been the last. Just like he'd told Hermione, Rhianna had slowly come to see him in a new light.

If it wasn't for her, he knew he would be a very different man today. And although he knew that some wished he was a different man, he also knew that the difference would be a bad one. If it hadn't been for Rhianna, he would have been worse. More evil, more demanding.More unstoppable.

The truth was, the Wizarding world owed their lives to her. And they would never know.

***

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned away from Malfoy. She'd finally pulled herself together, even if she'd pretty much thoroughly soaked his shirt first. A small giggle pushed its way past her lips, and she slapped a hand over them, blushing.

Malfoy raised a brow. "What's so funny?" he grinned.

"N-nothing," she said, hiding a smile behind her hand. She couldn't believe Draco Malfoy had grinned. Truly grinned; not that evil smirk-type thing he'd always used in school. It was strange.

But that wasn't the only thing that was strange.

She, Hermione Ann Granger--well, Hermione Rhianna Thomasine Riddle, she supposed--was sitting on Draco Malfoy's lap in the corridor. Anyone could walk down it and see them. There was also the fact that she didn't really care. Something had broken as she'd lain in his arms and cried her heart out. She supposed it was the way that they'd always been enemies. It was gone. He was just a regular person now.

It was strange. She'd said that before, of course (was it twice?) but she didn't care. It didn't really matter in her opinion.

Because it was strange. There was no other way to describe it. Draco Malfoy had been her and her friends' sworn enemy for six blasted years, and now she was sitting on his lap without a care in the world.

Then again, it probably wouldn't matter if anyone did walk by and see them. If it was a Slytherin or a Death Eater, they would just say that the two were probably having an affair or some such thing. If it were anyone else (i.e., a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw)... Well, she supposed she really couldn't go down any further in their estimation anyway. It would be alright, she reassured herself.

"Thanks," she said softly. "I'm really very grateful for this."

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Hermione hopped up off his lap and smiled at him before heading off toward the Gryffindor tower. She needed to see Harry, and hopefully explain to him everything that had happened. She gave up trying to remain calm and sprinted the rest of the way. She halted at the portrait. It was the Fat Lady. She had only stayed because she had been threatened if she didn't.

"Dark days rising," Hermione whispered. It was the master password. She smiled wryly. They really needed to come up with one less obvious.

No one was in the common room, but Hermione snuck up to the seventh year boys' dormitory. She glanced around the room before tiptoeing over to Harry's bed. She clapped a hand over his mouth and shook him awake, only releasing him when she was sure that he wouldn't make a sound. He followed her down to the common room, giving her a fierce hug as soon as she halted.

Hermione sunk gratefully into her friend's embrace, but didn't cry. She'd been all cried-out, thank you very much. Harry pulled away and searched Hermione's face. His own softened, and he gave her a small smile, which she promptly returned. He ran a hand through her hair and lowered his mouth to hers.

Hermione sighed against his mouth, her arms going around his neck. Gods, how she'd missed him.

His tongue prodded her lips, seeking entry, which she granted quickly. Her hands went into his unruly hair and she sank against him, grinning inwardly. One of Harry's hands came up from where it was resting on her hip and grazed her breast, sending shivers down her spine. It was this that jolted her back to awareness, and she broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Harry pulled them down to the nearest couch and into his lap. As soon as she caught her breath, she explained everything to him. Her father, mother, what she knew of their relationship, Voldemort's explanation of why the Killing Curse hadn't killed Harry, et cetera. But she didn't tell him about the prophesy. And he didn't ask why Voldemort had come after him. She supposed that not knowing for six years made the question go to the back of his mind.

As soon as she was done, Harry pulled in a deep, shuddering breath. "Gods, 'Mione. How did we get ourselves into this one?"

She chuckled softly. "I don't know."

They talked for a few more minutes, about everything Hermione had just revealed. They didn't get anywhere. They didn't come up with any brilliant plans. Harry gave Hermione one more passionate kiss before she left, muttering something about getting back to her room before someone noticed she was missing.

Hermione jogged back to her room, thinking everything over. Harry hadn't turned on her, and for that she was extremely grateful.

***

Draco's fist clenched as he remembered what he'd seen in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione and Potter had shared a very nice snogging session that Draco freely admitted he was extremely jealous of. Honestly, though? Was it really smart doing that around here? Voldemort was almost as all-knowing as Dumbledore, for the Gods' sakes.

He'd known that there was something going on between Potter and Hermione, but he'd never had the opportunity to see it. Now that he had, he wished he hadn't. It would no doubt haunt his dreams--that is, if he even got to sleep with that mental image staring him in the face.