The Error of My Ways

Hermione had never felt so empty before. Voldemort did not say anything, just placed an arm on her shoulder...a contact as light as the brushing of a snowflake but it filled her entire body with cold. That slight touch reeked of possession of the most vile nature. She could vaguely make out images as they whisked by her but could not place them...they went by far too quickly. Then she felt herself falling...falling...falling

It looked as if she had been brought to some old house. She could see that the windows were broken and they were letting in a very cold breeze. She shivered, but it was not entirely because of the breeze.

Voldemort released her shoulder and walked towards a rather sorry-looking fireplace. With a quick wave of his wand, he quickly brought it to life, flooding the room with warmth...a warmth that did not seem to drive the sense of cold away from Hermione.

"Well, my dear, your mission is done and I must say that you performed admirably."

Hermione looked around the room. She could not make out who Voldemort was talking to. As far as she could see, they were the only ones present.

"Your words are most gratifying, Master," a thin, vapoury voice was heard...a voice which seemed to come from far away.

Hermione realized with a shock who the voice belonged to and almost fell to the ground as a wave of nausea raced through her.

"Master?"

"Yes, my dear," Voldemort asked casually as if speaking to the dead were a normal occurrence.

"Might I be permitted to see her?"

Hermione immediately snapped out of her dizziness as quickly as if Peeves had hit her with a bucket of ice-cold water.

"I do not want to see her," Hermione said in a firm voice.

"What you want is of little concern to me," Voldemort hissed and he waved his wand again, "Spiritus."

Where there was nothing, Hermione noticed a little cloud forming, a shapeless mass of white and grey. It slowly grew larger and larger and coalesced itself until she began to recognize the form of a young woman, a few years older than herself. The shaped further focussed and Hermione recognized Penelope Clearwater, Percy's first love. The ghost looked at her with malice in her eyes and a smile on her face.

"She is not very ornamental, Master," was her comment.

Hermione bristled at the insult but said nothing.

"Is there not anything you wish to ask her?" Voldemort turned to Hermione.

Hermione did not answer.

"Pity. It isn't every day that you have an opportunity like this," Voldemort smiled cruelly.

"Master, I must go. I trust my purpose has been served."

"Yes, my dear. Farewell."

"Farewell, Master," the voice started to fade and the cloud began to dissipate, "Farewell, Mudblood. Always remember that he will never love you the way he loved me..."

The cloud vanished without a sound, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Hermione's hands clenched into fists and angry tears came to her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and faced Voldemort with renewed determination.

"Why am I here?"

Voldemort did not answer right away. He paused for a moment, as if in deep thought, and then sat down on a decrepit armchair. He motioned for Hermione to sit down on an adjacent one but she shook her head and remained standing.

"Why am I here?" she repeated, somewhat testily. This was not at all what she had been expecting

"You are here to determine where your true loyalties lie, my dear."

"I think I liked it better when you called me a Mudblood. The pleasantries do not suit you," she said disdainfully.

Voldemort smiled and his eyes narrowed as he got up and walked over to her. She took several steps backwards, bumping into something. Turning around, she saw...

"You!" she screamed, momentarily so overcome by shock to even consider moving.

Wormtail stood before her, smiling...a smile that was uncannily like that of the Dark Lord himself.

"You will not find me an unhospitable host, my dear. Wormtail will give you anything you desire," Voldemort's voice mocked her.

"I desire to return to Hogwarts," she replied angrily, glaring at Wormtail with such hatred that the smaller man looked somewhat fearful.

Voldemort chuckled.

"Such spirit. A spirit that you lack entirely, Wormtail. I am very much looking forward to discussing your misguided loyalties further. For now you must rest. Wormtail will show you to your room. Do not try to escape, my dear. It would not be...prudent."

He then turned to Wormtail with a stern expression on his pale face.

"Do not touch her."

Wormtail looked...crestfallen? Hermione did not want to think about what that might mean.

"Yes, Master," came his quiet reply.

Voldemort stepped into an adjacent room, closing the door softly behind him.

"Come," was the only word Wormtail said to her as he walked towards another door. He opened it for her in a show of chivalry.

"How do I know you won't murder me in my sleep?" she asked him pointedly, placing emphasis on the word 'you'.

"It is not me you should be concerned with, my dear," he said with beady eyes.

"I am not concerned with you in the least, you parasite," she retorted hotly, raising her wand in a threatening manner.

"You know that your wand is useless in here. The nullifying spell that my Master has placed on it is very powerful Dark Magic and even you will not be able to break it."

Hermione knew that he was right, had heard Voldemort tell her that he was doing it so that she would not harm herself. She remembered the icy laughter, the cold feeling of being near him. It was all too much.

Feeling that she did not want to say another word to Wormtail, she walked by him and closed the door herself. She leaned against it in dejection and finally allowed the tears to flow freely.

She looked down at her hand and smiled somewhat. She was hoping that Sirius would know what to do with the ring she had purposefully left with Percy. The thought of Percy strengthened her resolve.

"I won't break," she said aloud.

It seemed as if the very silence mocked her declaration.

"I know you will find me, Percy," she thought, "I'll be strong. Don't worry about me."

She looked around her room and saw that, although sparsely furnished, it looked clean and comfortable. Suddenly realizing how exhausted she was, she walked over to the bed and lay down upon it, pointedly ignoring the nightgown laid out for her.

"I will not accept so much as a Knut from him," she declared in her mind as she lay down in her dress robes.

"I have to rest," she thought to herself over and over, "Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I need to be strong."

She was asleep before even she realized it.

"No-o-o-o-o. Get it off of me!! Get it off!" Hermione screamed as she sat bolt upright in the bed, with the sheen of a cold sweat on her body which made her shake uncontrollably.

She nervously drew up the fabric of her left sleeve and saw that her arm was unmarked. She started breathing again.

There was a knock at her door. Without bothering to wait for an answer, Wormtail walked in with a tray of food, a couple of sandwiches and a goblet of what appeared to be pumpkin juice.

"Here to poison me?" she glared at him.

"This may not be what you are accustomed to at Hogwarts but it is wholesome nonetheless," came his quiet reply.

"Here, you take a bite first," she took one half of a sandwich and gave it to him. He immediately took a deliberate bite out of it, looking at her the entire time with an intensity that made her feel slightly ill.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

"Hardly," she scoffed, "You have made your delivery...you can go now."

He seemed reluctant to leave.

"My Master wishes you to join him in the main room when you are finished your dinner."

"Dinner? What time is it?"

"It is past eight 'o' clock in the evening."

Hermione sat there stunned. She had slept through the entire day?

"You looked as though you needed the rest," he said quietly as he moved towards her. Hermione scuttled back on the bed. There was something about this that was frighteningly familiar and she could feel tiny fingers of panic brushing the rational part of her mind.

"I think you should go," she pointed at the door.

"I don't think I need to. I can sit here and watch you eat," he sat down on the bed. Hermione moved as far away as she could from him.

"I want you to leave," she pointed at the door again.

"You are so much like Lily," he sighed.

Hermione looked at him in shock. Did she just hear that correctly?

"I look nothing like Lily," she practically hissed at him.

Wormtail reached out a hand to touch her foot but she moved it out of his way in time.

"I do not mean in terms of looks. I mean in terms of the type of person you are. She was like you, always generous, loving, loyal to her friends..."

"And is that why you decided that you would help kill her...because she was so wonderful?" Hermione's voice had an edge to it rarely heard.

"She did not have to die," was his sole response.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione's voice was practically a whisper.

"She was foolish. She got in the way. If she had stood aside, she would have lived...and she would have been mine."

"Lily would never have gone with you."

"Do not be so sure, Mudblood. She was foolish and imprudent but you are not these things. I can see that."

"Why does it matter what I am?"

"Because you are promised to me."

It took several seconds for Hermione to remind herself that breathing was a necessity of life. In the face of Wormtail looking at her with something akin to passion in his beady eyes, she had forgotten.

 "I will never go with you," she sneered at him as if he were the lowest form of life imaginable.

He shrugged his shoulders and moved closer to her.

"You are promised to me...and my Master has never broken a promise to me," he said quietly as he began crawling towards her on the bed. Hermione backed right up against the wall, fright clearly apparent in her eyes.

"He told you not to touch me," she whispered as she tried to avoid the hand that wanted to caress her thigh.

"He did not want me to hurt you," he smiled insanely, "I will not hurt you...that is the last thing I wish to do."

He lunged forward and grabbed Hermione's face in both hands and pressed his lips against hers. She struggled frantically, scratching at his face and pulling at his hair.

He pulled away for a moment and Hermione spat at him in disgust. Without thinking, he slapped her hard across one cheek, causing a red mark to appear.

Hermione was too shocked and furious to even feel the pain. She simply glared at him

"That is very brave of you to strike a witch who is a prisoner and hasn't even the use of her wand. Yes, that is very brave...just like the rat that you are."

He raised his hand again...

"Crucio."

Voldemort had entered the room and that one word, spoken with anger, reduced Wormtail to a quivering, moaning mound of flesh on the floor.

"Master....forgive..."

"You touched her. I expressly told you not to touch her."

Wormtail looked as if he was going to die from the pain.

"She was...insolent...Master...please...the pain..."

"I told you not to touch her."

"...forgive..."

"You must be taught obedience, Wormtail. It is a painful lesson but a necessary one. I do not tolerate disobedience, Wormtail, but you already know that, do you not?"

"Yes, Master...thank you..."

Voldemort released Wormtail from the spell and, with that, Wormtail stopped thrashing and simply lay there, twitching occasionally.

Voldemort, ignoring Wormtail, turned instead to Hermione who was still on the bed in her dress robes.

"Come, my dear. We have much to discuss."

He walked over to the door and paused, waiting for her. With a sigh of resignation, she got up off the bed and went into the main room, trying not to notice how she shivered as she passed the Dark Lord.

"I feel that you do not quite understand the reason I brought you here," he said as he sat down at his accustomed chair. Hermione defiantly stood by the fireplace, watching the flames, trying to nerve herself against whatever it was the Dark Lord was planning to do.

"I don't care. Whatever it is you want me to do, I'm not doing it," she said firmly.

"You misunderstand me completely, my dear."

"I told you before, the pleasantries do not suit you."

"I have brought you here to show you the truth."

Hermione laughed sarcastically and turned to face him at last.

"You would not know the truth if it hit you between the eyes like a well-placed bludger."

"I know more than you can possibly imagine, Hermione. For example, I know all about you."

Hermione turned to the fire again, trying to stay focused. She needed to concentrate on Percy.

"I know everything there is to know about you. I do like to be thorough in these matters, you understand."

"I don't want to understand. I don't want to know," Hermione muttered.

"Ah, but you do. If there is one thing I know about you, Hermione, it is the drive for knowledge, the drive for self-improvement, the drive for perfection. Don't deny it...these things are what you are."

"I am more than that."

"Are you?"

"I have friends. I have someone who loves me. I have a family that is proud of me. I am not just some person trying to be perfect."

"I disagree but let us explore this rationally. You say you have friends?"

"You know I do."

"True. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Two formidable opponents, I must add. Must give credit where credit is due. But are they really your friends? It seems to me that you did not hit it off particularly well when you first met."

"I was a bit cold...I was nervous about entering Hogwarts. I wanted to make the right impression..."

"Obviously that did not impress your friends."

"It took some time but we became friends once I..."

"Changed?"

"Yes."

"But, if they were truly your friends, should they not have accepted you as you were?"

"That's not what I meant at all...." Hermione protested.

"But it is, Hermione. Do you remember when they rescued you from the troll and you took the blame saying that you had gone in after it in the first place?"

"How do you know all this?"

"That does not matter. Did they ever really thank you for that bit of selflessness? I mean, besides that one token show of gratitude?"

"It wasn't necessary...I mean we were all scared..."

"Did they every really thank you for it?"

"No, they did not but..."

"It seems to me that they would have if they were really your friends. And then of course, Ronald got knocked out cold by Minerva's transfigured chess set. I didn't see Harry rush over to check if he was all right."

"We had to get the Philosopher's Stone. You were there."

"If he was such a close friend, don't you think he could have at least checked if he was okay before proceeding?'

"We had to hurry...there was no time..."

"Of course not, Hermione, no time for Harry Potter to check if his best friend is alive or not before proceeding on another exercise of self-promotion."

"That's not the way it was at all..." Hermione was practically shouting, refusing to turn around and look at Voldemort. Her hands were clenched into fists, the nails digging into the palms of her hands painfully.

"And then in second year, you were accidentally petrified by my beloved pet."

"Pet?" Hermione turned to Voldemort who was watching her with an amused expression. She distinctly got the impression that she was being played with like the mouse that the cat toys with before devouring it entirely.

"I don't remember that Harry Potter and Ronald were all that concerned about you."

"They were frantic with worry."

"How do you know? You were petrified."

"They told me."

"And you trust them?"

"Yes," she answered although her voice held a note of uncertainty in it.

"It seems as if they took their time figuring things out and they decided to save someone else before checking on you."

"Ginny almost died."

"You almost died as well."

"That's different!!"

"I see no difference. You seem to place a high level of loyalty in those who have not shown it to you in return."

"That's not true!! They are my friends. I trust them. They would do anything for me."

"Really? Has Harry Potter ever shown you how to successfully perform the Patronus spell?"

Hermione turned to the fireplace again.

"No...I mean, I tried...but then..." she said in a small voice.

"Even though Dementors were at Hogwarts in your third year and your sixth year?"

"I never asked..."

"You should not need to ask...he should have offered. What if one of the Dementor's tried to administer its fatal kiss to you? How could you possibly protect yourself without that spell? He was keeping the spell to himself. Self-preservation if you ask me. Not thinking about his friends at all."

"That is not true."

"Tell me why it is not true," he challenged her.

She could not answer and, because her back was turned to him, she could not see the triumphant smile that appeared on his face.

"During the Triwizard Tournament, the second task involved retrieving something precious to the Champion. Why was that not you?"

"Ron knew Harry first...it was the logical choice..."

"You barely knew Victor Krum and yet you were chosen to be the thing precious to him. Did it not make you jealous that you had been left on the outside once again?"

"Of course not."

"They have never asked you to the Yule Ball. You have always gone alone. Ron only ever asked you because he did not want the shame of going alone. Better you than no one."

"That's not the point...they are my friends..."

"You seem to be excluded from so many things in their lives, how can you be certain that they care about you that much?"

"They do care," the note of uncertainty in her voice was clearer and Voldemort's smile grew larger.

"I do not think so. They seem to take advantage of you. Profit from your knowledge. Rape your mind for what they need and then toss you aside until they require you again."

"That is not true at all."

"Do not deny that you have always felt the need to prove yourself to them."

"No..."

"Do not deny that you have always felt jealous of the closeness between the two of them."

"No..."

"Do not deny that you have always felt like an outsider to them, to your schoolmates, to everyone. Who is it that truly loves you for who you are."

"Percy loves me."

"You are nothing but an assignment to him. I know all about his feeble efforts to protect you. He does not love you. He feels an obligation to you because you are his responsibility."

"No, he loves me."

"Then why did he not try to prevent you from going with me?"

"He did try but I told him not..."

"He did not try hard enough. If he loved you half as much as you say he does, losing his life should have been a small price to pay for ensuring your so-called safety. Instead he let you go without so much as a whimper."

"No...that is not the way it happened at all..."

"Isn't it? You are here and I hear no rescuers pounding down my door. They have forgotten about you, my dear. They do not care. They cannot give you what you need and want so desperately."

"What could you possibly know about what I want or what I need?" Hermione's head drooped slightly and her voice was flat and emotionless.

Voldemort arose from the chair and silently walked over to where Hermione stood, swaying slightly. He stood directly behind her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. She did not flinch.

"I know what it is you want and crave most, my dear. I am the only means for you to achieve them."

Hermione's eyes closed in defeat, letting the coldness from his hands permeate her entire body.

Voldemort turned her around to face him. Her eyes were still closed, the tears still flowing like the blood from a sacrificial offering.

"You desire knowledge, my dear. You desire perfection," he whispered as he traced the line of her jaw with his thumb.

"I desire love," she whispered in a feeble attempt to hold him off, to reclaim some part of herself...

"Love is mutable, fickle and changes as the seasons do. The only thing, which lasts forever, is power. Power is knowledge and I know that you want the knowledge I can give you," he said softly in her ear as one hand wound itself in her hair and pulled her closer to him with surprising gentleness.

"No," she meant to say it out loud but it ended up only being a thought trapped in her mind. She felt him hold her close. It was an embrace that spoke not of love or closeness. It reeked of darker things and yet, she did not pull away.

"I know you. I know you better than any of your so-called friends. And I still want you by my side. I can be a powerful ally. I can be anything you want me to be. All I ask is your loyalty. A small price to pay for all you could achieve for yourself," he traced a circle on her left forearm. It made the hairs on her arm stand up but she did not pull away.

She opened her eyes and looked into his. That was when she realized she had lost. She lost track of the time and became lost in those cold eyes, like a bird hypnotized by a snake, unable to draw away despite the mortal danger.

"Your friends do not want you as much as I do and they cannot offer you what I can," he said as he lowered his face and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.

"Percy," she thought for a moment as her eyes closed involuntarily. A solitary tear trekked lazily downwards.

He pulled away from the kiss and held her shoulders firmly.

"You are mine."

Hermione crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

"Wormtail!" he called over to the other room.

"Yes Master," Wormtail still looked shaken from the Cruciatus Curse.

"Bring her to the bed. She will be branded tomorrow night and then we will begin the attack on Hogwarts. I must see Lucius Malfoy immediately and will return in the morning. Remember, Wormtail...do not touch her."

"Yes Master," the man whimpered.

Voldemort disapparated from the house.

Wormtail quickly walked over to Hermione and lifted her inert form and clumsily carried her over to her bed where he deposited her somewhat roughly. He covered her with a blanket and looked at her for a moment and then left the room quickly, closing the door behind him.

As the sun rose to herald the start of a new day, Hermione awoke and immediately felt as if an icy blackness had seeped into her somehow like the black water from her nightmare. Somewhere, deep inside her, a part of her soul began to die...