Abyss

Chapter 3

Voldemort shuddered against the window. The weather had been seasonably overcast with frequent rain and storms and high winds, but the temperature had plummeted to freezing at night with little variance during the day. The chill from the outside made his shoulder almost numb where it pressed to the glass.

To say the least, it had been an unforeseen quandary. For the last three weeks, he battled the charm that bound him to Hermione, but no matter what spell he cast, he could not hurt her, nor could he leave her to speak with the children of his followers. He was shackled to a Mudblood, and there was presently nothing to be done.

When she was asleep, he could return to his true form, and he often did, but she always went to bed late. He did not remember ever staying up so late for school, until he realized schoolwork was not the reason for sleep-deprivation. The first time he trailed his fingers over the spines of the books on her private library shelves, his tips lingered upon one large tome. The texture of the binding did not match the texture he saw, so he opened the book.

"Oh, Hermione," he murmured, "someone's being a bad, bad girl." Nightmare Curses and Potions, that was where the pages were most worn. A renegade Gryffindor , how lovely. Studying the Dark Arts from a book that he had only otherwise seen in Lucius Malfoy's personal study. He considered transforming into his own body in her presence to offer his assistance. If only she were not such a close, sincere friend of Harry Potter.

After his initial hostility with the boy, Potter avoided him when Voldemort now realized it might be wise to get close to him. Hermione, however, had become familiar with the way he glared at Potter when ready to strike and restrained him in time to prevent Potter's injury.

Hermione.

Belthazar, she had named him. It was better than some of the names she could have given him. Most of them, in fact. It was adequate. But who was he fooling? The way he had reacted when she had first called him by his animal name. Most Animagi had aliases for their other selves, but he had never christened his cobra. When Hermione said the name, there was that beautiful, satisfied feeling of a puzzle piece clicking into place or a perfect chess move. Even a sense of kinship with the girl...

Voldemort caught himself as he was drifting into his Animagus form without thinking. This was no time to become doe-eyed as a beloved pet, though Hermione seemed to like him well enough now that she had accustomed herself to his rhythm.

Voldemort left the window. The rain impeded the visibility anyway. He turned back to Hermione, sleeping in her bed. With the cold weather, he had to curl next to her in his snake form - he hated the claustrophobic feeling in the tank. He transformed and climbed up the post to settle close to her legs. She did not shift much during the night, and she never kicked. He would escape, soon. Until then, he would sleep.

~888~

Hermione stretched and yawned as she woke up at four. Outside, the storm still raged, but a calm light permeated the clouds, making the storm less menacing and more relaxing. It would be one of those mornings she would want to go back to sleep, but she could at least try to get some work done first.

She had progressed past the introductions to diary entries of the cursed.

My first dream was surprisingly linear, for I had never experience a dream that I could follow with uncanny accuracy. It began in the middle of a desert. Not desert of pure sand, but one with brush and with clay red sand. I was next to a road, a two-lane street extending to the horizon in both directions. The heat shimmered off it in waves. The sun filled almost the entire sky, and the heat caused the skin on my arms and legs to boil and ooze black liquid that congealed at my bare feet. My feet had already melted to the ground so that the muscles were already becoming singed. All around me were bones with bits of blackened flesh still lingering, victims of the sweltering heat.

The only creatures that survived the heat were the vultures, which had shed their dark feathers for thin gray fur. They circled directly overhead, dripping burning blood onto my head from their gorging beaks. They get near enough for me to see they have no eyes, just empty sockets. The first lands on my shoulder and caresses my cheek with blood. Its breath is foul as carrion, and it only grows fouler as it is joined by its brother on my left shoulder. I want to shake them off, but with a quick snap, they dislocate my shoulders. The other vultures flock at my feet to eat the flesh I no longer feel. But the two on my shoulders begin to eat my face. Ahead of me I see the gaping eyes of my wife impaled on a fence post. My mouth opens to scream, and a vulture plucks my tongue from my mouth. I drown on my own saliva long after the vultures have had their fill of me, leaving me for another meal.

Hermione had to close the book and just breathe for a little before she could get up and take a bath. Belthazar was sleeping on her coverlet when she left, and when she came back a full hour later, he still slept. Hermione smiled. She would never admit it to Harry because they both seemed to hate each other, but Hermione was really beginning to look upon him with less annoyance and more affection. Who would have ever thought she could love a snake?

"Belthazar," she whispered, nudging him right behind his ribs. The snake lifted his head grudgingly. "You can go back to sleep if you would like, but I wanted you to know I'm going downstairs for the early breakfast. I really can't concentrate up here, and I don't feel tired anymore. You can come join me whenever you're ready."

Then she left him.

Voldemort was stunned. She never left him alone, not without either casting a difficult Locking Charm or series of them on the door. She did not make him stay in his tank. She tried that once, looked at her handiwork then let him out, feeling pity for a magnificent creature caged. Now she left the door slightly open, enough for him to slip through.

But before going...

He transformed into his true form and slipped his wand into his hand. Then he walked to Hermione's desk. He Duplicated a piece of parchment rather than take one of her own. She might observe its loss. He would not underestimate her extensive abilities. He did, however, borrow her quill and ink--the quill had already been extensively used and the ink bottle was opaque.

Draco Malfoy,

Bloody fool! Your father is primarily to blame for this mishap because he did not tell you the full nature of your mission, as he was instructed. However, this does not excuse you from your fatal misconduct in mishandling and losing me to a Mudblood. Had not the girl caught me, you would be dead.

Yes, I, Lord Voldemort, was the snake with which you were entrusted. You have one more chance for the Malfoy family to return to my good graces. This is what you must do:

Get in secret contact with your father. Arrange for a Death Eater visit to Hogwarts. It will merely be a way to take both the girl and myself in custody and simultaneously giving Hogwarts a good scare. The entrance should be simple. Have Bellatrix bring her alarm alerts; Dumbledore could have the passage watched. If the Shrieking Shack entrance is not available, have them try the Forbidden Forest, though the mouse hole to the barrier has likely closed. In the situation where none of these work, have them use the underground passage, not matter what the danger may be. They'll know of what I speak. This should allow for sufficient planning on my Death Eaters' parts, if they have any mind at all left.

Once inside, they should wait for me in the deepest dungeons after sending an owl to you. You will then locate my position, and I will isolate myself and the girl. This is a stealth mission, not a full-out slaughter. I will kill anyone who disobeys these orders. That includes you, boy. Begin immediately.

Lord Voldemort

Voldemort folded and sealed the letter, then transformed back to Belthazar and took the letter in his mouth in an uncomfortable but necessary angle. By slipping his head through the crack in the door, he could sense no motion and knew no one was about. He began maneuvering himself to the hearth, where the fire had gone out. The house-elves would come to remedy the cold soon. The hole he noticed a week ago from a brief reconnaissance while Hermione oversaw the common room gaped unnoticed and uncorrected. This hole, according to what he knew of the castle through the basilisk's eyes, would lead to the pipes. Sure enough, after a very tight squeeze, he found his way. Then he headed downward.

The farther down he went, the more difficult it was to concentrate on where he was going. A part of him wanted to turn back, go to the room or to the Great Hall, anywhere but away from Hermione.

Voldemort swore to himself.

But she did not have complete control of his direction, not really. The desire was there, but he could deny it with the rational part of his brain. He reached the turn he wanted. He braced himself to get very wet.

In a few minutes, he was standing in the middle of the Slytherin boys' lavatory. He sneered in disgust. This is what the Malfoy brat had reduced him to, a pet having to go through toilet pipes to get somewhere. He had to bite his tongue to restrain himself from cursing the mirrors into shards of reflections on the floor.

Voldemort pressed his ear flush against the door to the boys' dormitories. Then he wrapped his hand around the knob and turned with a remarkable amount of patience for someone who had been fidgeting to avoid violence only seconds before. The door opened without a sound. He stretched his mind outward like a spider's legs. Like legs, they extended only so far, but enough for him to locate the Malfoy boy. After a quick Drying Charm on the letter, Voldemort thinned and slid to the floor as Belthazar. Then he slithered out of the lavatory and down the stairs. Draco Malfoy was the second left. The door was already open and it was his fortune none of the boys were awake.

He climbed up to Draco's level much as he did in Hermione's bed. However, he felt he would rather curl up next to a Mudblood than next to Draco. He nudged Draco's face with his own. Draco stirred, and his eyelids fluttered, but he did not wake.

This time, the nudge held no trace of gentleness. Draco's brows drew together.

"Whazit?" he muttered, sitting up and squinting.

Voldemort lifted himself up and bared his fangs and hood.

Draco gave a shout, and Voldemort dropped to the bed. He pushed the note forward with his snout. Draco quieted, though his heart still sent out quick, subtle vibrations through the bed.

"Oy!" cried someone from a nearby bed. "Whazit, Draco?"

Voldemort slithered backward, preparing himself for any of Draco's responses.

"Nothing!" Draco yelled back. "Thought something bit me is all."

"Sure it wasn't Pansy?" someone else suggested.

"Thought she was with you tonight, Bacchus," Draco retorted. "Go back to sleep."

The boy named Bacchus sniggered again. "Pansy, my sweet buttercup, he gave us permission. Love me!"

"Keep it down over there," said a grunt that sounded suspiciously like the son of Goyle. "Tryin' to sleep."

While there were still some sniggers and muffled conversation, not many wanted to be on the other side of Goyle's fists, not matter how thick in the head he was.

Draco stared at the snake that he recognized as Granger's, saw that it did not seem to desire sinking its teeth into his skin. He picked up the letter. Voldemort left and headed for the Great Hall. His ability to concentrate improved. When he arrived, he found a quite angered Hermione.

~888~

While Voldemort traveled through the Hogwarts pipe system, Hermione was on her way to what she had hoped would be a private breakfast in the Great Hall.

Instead, she found Filch standing guard at the entrance.

"No one can enter yet," muttered Filch, flashing his awful, crooked smile at her. He had looked at her like that ever since she started fulfilling her duties as Head Girl by patrolling the halls in the evening. Hermione hated the slimy feeling his yellow-eyed leer gave her. "Staff meeting."

"If it's a staff meeting, I'll feed myself poison," she murmured, turning on her heel and heading another direction.

She knew Mrs. Norris would be guarding the other obvious entrance, the door behind the High Table. So, she would just have to go another route. She knew where an invisible window was on the second floor.

Second floor, left, right, first portrait on the right. Ah, yes, here was the portrait of Thomas Peepington. She bent her fingers against the back of the frame, and it swung open. She looked through the full picture window presented to her. She could hear what the people below her around the High Table were saying. And it was certainly not a staff meeting.

"...haven't heard anything of his movements," said Lupin. "We've kept a weather eye open and an Auror's ear ready, but nothing of Lord Voldemort has reached us."

Dumbledore set his head onto his hands in frustration. "This is uncharacteristic of him. He's not easily predictable, but unless he is gathering strength, there is rarely such a lull; yet the movements of the dementors in Siberia, the demons in Australia, the snake people of Northern Africa... none of these established armies have shown any sign of movement, nor have the escaped Death Eaters shown their faces lately. The silence is maddening."

"Perhaps," said Snape, "he's planning an Underground Movement. He's spoken of it."

"Too easy to track with Aurors watching," McGonagall disagreed. Hermione snorted.

"Maybe," Ron ventured, "I don't know... The Forbidden Forest. A few more Dark creatures could have gone unnoticed."

"Possible," Dumbledore said, "but unlikely. He'd gain nothing from it. The mouse hole they opened last year has been closed and the boundaries have been strengthened. The security has not been breached again. Hogwarts isn't built next to the Forbidden Forest for nothing."

"Do you feel Hogwarts is immediately targeted, Albus?" Flitwick asked from his chair.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm sure it's on his list, but until his forces are readily reinforced, he won't directly attack Hogwarts. What we should be wary of is espionage. Our system here is perfect for rats; we do have a few defenses still not operating at their highest capabilities." Dumbledore paused. "Harry, have you noticed anything? Any new dreams or visions?"

Harry shook his head. "My headaches have gotten worse this year, but it is to be expected really. I've almost gotten used to them now."

"And what do your dreams tell you?" Firenze said softly from the corner.

Harry turned to look at the centaur. "The same thing as before: that the war is swiftly approaching and that I'll be separated from many friends. All of those which I could have guessed on my own."

"Patience, Mr. Potter," Firenze murmured. "You answers will come."

"Who tells you the prophecy?" asked the airy voice of Professor Trelawney.

Harry sighed like someone who has told a dream a thousand times. "A unicorn," he said finally. Dumbledore put a hand on Trelawney's arm and shook his head. Trelawney had almost responded.

"Harry's told us his dream. He'll report more when he has more," Dumbledore said in a tone that suggested that the subject was closed. "What of Hermione? Has she continued to press you for information about the Order?"

Harry and Ron shared a rueful glance. "Yeah," Ron admitted.

"It feels like we're betraying her. We used to do everything together, and without her, we probably could not have done half the things we did." Harry rubbed the end of his nose.

"I know it's difficult, Harry," said Dumbledore, "but it's best for her."

Hermione snorted again.

"You know, that's not very lady-like," Filch said from behind her.

Hermione jumped and spun around.

"Oh, dear, forgot to look behind ourselves," he chuckled, grasping her arm, needlessly adjusting his hand several times. "I shall have to tell the Headmaster about this. Make no mistake." Filch clicked his tongue at Hermione then dragged her down to the first floor.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, we've an eavesdropper here," Filch exclaimed excitedly, throwing Hemrione forward. She stumbled before finding her footing.

She stood straight and spoke before any of them could open their mouths. "Let me be a part of the Order. I could really help you!"

"You're daft, girl," Snape sneered.

"We've already discussed this, Hermione," Lupin said with a sigh. "Mrs. Weasley won't let you or Ginny join. She almost did not let Ron in."

"Why did she let Ron in?" Hermione demanded.

"Well... because... she knew Harry'd tell Ron no matter what," Lupin said, bracing himself.

Hermione's head whipped around to Harry, and he had to force himself not to jump--she almost looked like Belthazar when she did that.

She did not speak, but her thought were clear: And you wouldn't tell me? Harry had to look away.

"They made me swear, Hermione. On my parents' graves. Literally," Harry explained pleadingly.

"Enough of this," Snape said, walking between the two. "This is not the point. The point is that Miss Granger eavesdropped on an exclusive Order meeting. There must be some sort of..."

"Punishment?" said Ron, outraged. "We would have done the same thing if it was us."

"Precisely," Snape retorted. "As Head Girl, she should know better."

Dumbledore stepped forward, putting an end to all discussion. "While the Headmaster part of me is inclined to agree with Severus, I believe she should go unpunished. The truth is, Hermione, I understand your desire to be a part of the Order, but without permission from your parents and the Weasleys by proxy, I am unable to allow you even a small amount of membership. As Head Girl, you do your part for the Order by protecting Hogwarts and the students within it."

Hermione shook her head. "My duties as Head..." She paused, then tugged her arm from Filch's clutches. "You don't need to hold onto me anymore."

"You're excused, Argus," Dumbledore said. Filch reluctantly left the room.

"As I was saying," Hermione continued, brushing a lock of hair out of her face, "my duties as Head Girl offer me no challenge. I attend them and my homework and still have extra time for other things. And how can I protect Hogwarts without knowing the threat?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Professor Dumbledore replied softly. "You argue your side well, but the fact remains I am unable to admit you to the Order. Rest assured when there is a known threat to Hogwarts, I will summon you."

Hermione sighed. "I could really help, you know."

"We have the help we need, Miss Granger," Snape snapped. "Don't give yourself delusions of grandeur."

Hermione turned cold eyes to him. "If you don't need help, why can't you find Lord Voldemort?"

"If you have any information, Miss Granger," Snape hissed through clenched teeth, "please share it with us."

"I might be able to help if I have what little knowledge you do have," Hermione shot back.

"Enough," Dumbledore said with a sort of finality. "This meeting is adjourned. Go about your breakfasts."

"You might want to avoid the Great Hall again," Hermione advised, sullen at the response. "I've been waking up earlier."

"Duly noted," Lupin said. He put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Once again, our apologies, but we can't. You have to understand."

"I do," Hermione said, "and you also have to understand I found out that it was the Philosopher's Stone that was hidden in Hogwarts, I made the Polyjuice Potion, I discovered that the monster in the Chamber was a basilisk, I had the Time Turner... Professor Lupin, I'd be the first to admit that Harry and Ron are better at action, but I do the dusty work they don't know how to do."

Professor Lupin shook his head again and repeated, "I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, who were eating at the Gryffindor Table and casting furtive glances at her. "So am I," she whispered at Lupin's retreating back.

Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor Table, but several seats from her two friends.

"We have no choice," Harry said. "On my parents' graves."

"I know, Harry, I understand, but I don't have to like it," Hermione said, taking her share of cereal and milk. "You probably wouldn't in my position."

"No," Ron said quietly. "We wouldn't."

"Oh no," Harry muttered, "your guardian snake is back."

Belthazar, with his unhooded head peeking over the tables, slithered toward Hermione, then curled around her. Hermione was startled. He had not done that in two weeks, since she had stopped trying to push him away.

"Belthazar's sweet, Harry, I don't know what you have against him." Hermione ate a spoonful of cereal.

Belthazar stuck his tongue out smugly at Harry.

"Or," Hermione added, "what you have against Harry. I thought it would be a relief to hear your own language from a human.

In response, Belthazar growled once, then ducked out of sight.

"There's something funny about that snake," Ron said.

"You're just biased against serpents, Ron. I don't blame you for the hatred association, but snakes are just misunderstood, and I reckon I'd get reprimanded for a lion instead."

~888~

Hermione runs through Hogwarts. Doors fly by her, but the corridors and portals are unfamiliar to her. She pushes bushy hair reaching her knees from the front of her body, and she realizes her thick hair is all that clothes her, and her legs are streaked with blood. Though it is not her time of the month, menstrual blood flows out from between her legs in streams, splashing on the stone floor and leaving an easy trail for the people following her who started this flood.

Her puddles of blood writhe, becoming venomous pit vipers, Egyptian asps and rattlers and sidewinders. They open their gigantic mouths, baring fangs much too big for their bodies.

Hermione flees again, sliding on her own red fluids. She trips and falls into empty space where a set of stairs has moved away. The fall seems to last forever, but then she lands in a bed of down pillows. All around her are Death Eaters reaching for her and their hands grasp tightly and twist and pinch and taste the blood on her legs. She feels one rip her from the inside. Then another and another and another... She screams like an eagle. Voldemort's face is there, laughing at her, though she has never seen his face before. He does nothing but watch as his followers rape her and laugh.

Hermione jerked up from her bed, sweat pouring from her face and soaking her pajamas. Belthazar looked up as though he had not even been asleep. Hermione found it unusual for a diurnal creature, but paid the detail little heed. Her focus was only writing down the results of the Nightmare Curse she had cast upon herself. The area between her legs ached, but Hermione knew it was only psychological pain. In fact, Hermione would not be surprised if her period had started early.

"Successful test," Hermione said to Belthazar. "Now I can develop the Nightmare Potion. Not for consumption, of course," she muttered to herself as she changed nightclothes after a quick cold bath. "I don't fancy having a nightmare like that for years. Now just to find the counter-curse..." Her voice drifted as her mind drifted back to sleep like she had not even woken up.

Belthazar had already contentedly fallen asleep at Hermione's feet.