
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10875057.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, Multi, Other
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Voldemort, Hermione_Granger/Luna_Lovegood/Ginny_Weasley,
      Luna_Lovegood/Ginny_Weasley, Luna_Lovegood/Severus_Snape/Ginny_Weasley,
      Luna_Lovegood/Severus_Snape, Severus_Snape/Ginny_Weasley, Hermione
      Granger/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort, Voldemort_(Harry_Potter),
      Severus_Snape, Albus_Dumbledore, Aberforth_Dumbledore, Dolores_Umbridge,
      Mrs_Granger_(Harry_Potter), Fawkes_(Harry_Potter), Crookshanks_(Harry
      Potter), Harry_Potter, Ginny_Weasley, Firenze_(Harry_Potter), Minerva
      McGonagall, Luna_Lovegood, Portrait_Rowena_Ravenclaw, Portrait_Helga
      Hufflepuff, Portrait_Salazar_Slytherin, Portrait_Godric_Gryffindor
  Additional Tags:
      Greek_Mythology_-_Freeform, Mythical_Beings_&_Creatures, Order_of_the
      Phoenix_AU, Centaurs, Pureblood_Culture, Goddesses, Room_of_Requirement,
      Room_of_Requirement_Shenanigans, Loss_of_Virginity, Wizarding_Traditions,
      Sex_Magic, Abuse_of_Authority, The_Author_Regrets_Nothing
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-10 Updated: 2018-03-23 Chapters: 14/? Words: 44913
****** A Greek Inheritance ******
by beestung2025
Summary
     Hermione Granger knows she’s no ordinary witch. What she didn’t know
     was the significance that her mother was descended of the Deo family
     from Crete, and Hermione may just end up becoming both Demeter and
     Persephone in the upcoming war.
     AU and not cannon compliant. Definite AU. Dumbledore Bashing,
     Pureblood bashing.
Notes
     All Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling and I make
     absolutely zero profit from this aside from the enjoyment of writing.
     Plot is mine and that's about it.
     Definite work in progress, and not sure where things will lead to.
     Huge thanks to my Beta Havelocked!!
***** Summer Solstice *****
She was fourteen when she took to the Room of Requirement to study; to get some
bloody peace from Viktor Krum’s entourage. It was sweet of him when he finally
plucked up the courage to ask her to the Yule Ball. He saw her earthly charms
that others shunned. Still, a girl needed peace to study, and when she stumbled
upon the Room of Requirement, she was enthralled. Hermione always made to learn
outside of her studies, and learn Hermione did.

She learned about Helga Hufflepuff’s earth magic, and how being a ‘mudblood’
originally meant to have inherited from the earth— that the ley lines of the
earth strengthened all living plants and animals inherent magical potential.
Hermione was awed at the books the Room of Requirement supplied her, from
copies of Helga’s private journals to mythology from Crete where her mother
Diana Deo hailed from before meeting and falling in love with David Granger
during their baculauretes as they studied abroad. Diana Deo became Diana
Granger and never set foot on Crete again, despite her family trying to call
her back. She did uphold with her daughter the olde family traditions on the
equinoxes and solstices, as well as seasonal festival days, which Hermione was
astounded to read similar rites in Hufflepuff’s journals and a few other guides
to ritualistic Earth magic. Hermione wasn’t able to dwell much on the
fascinating Earth magic she felt calling to her— she was constantly barraged
with helping her best friend not lose his life during the Triwizard Tournament,
her first boyfriend, and dealing with that dung beetle of a reporter named Rita
Skeeter.

It was during the summer holidays before her fifth year at Hogwarts, while she
was performing the familial tradition of celebrating the height of summer at
the solstice that Hermione thought to question her mother. Their family was
never religious, but her father never joined mother and daughter for these
traditions. Traditions that Hermione now knew as rituals and rites and was
astounded it took her so bloody long to figure it out—and what it might mean
about their family.

“Mum, I was doing some personal reading this year and… well our family
traditions were described in some of the books. The ones you said you practiced
with your mother, and she with hers and so on.” Hermione began, as they
comfortably sat side by side at the yearly bonfire they’d lit, fragranced with
sage, mint, basil, Saint John's Wort, sunflower, and lavender. Each sipped on
sweet grape raki brandy her mother made from her family’s traditional recipe;
it was Hermione’s third year at being allowed to have more than symbolic grape
juice. She was allowed to drink the alcohol at their traditions after her first
period, when her mother told her she was a woman in her family’s tradition.

“I’m not surprised they are very similar. My family on Crete celebrated the
Olde Ways, and on Crete, there wasn’t always such a disconnect between those
who practiced wand waving and those who didn’t.” Diana Granger chuckled at the
look on her daughter’s face, evaluating if her mother was joking or being
serious. Diana smiled at her daughter, relishing how lovely it was to reconnect
with her roots and also with her daughter who seemed to be growing farther away
from their family as Hermione progressed through her schooling.

“Mum… these Olde Ways… they’re barely even celebrated by wizards anymore. I
don’t understand how I was raised with traditions passed down in your family
that are dying out.” Hermione persisted, sipping the raki and inhaling deeply
the herbal incense of the fire.

“Oh darling, I’ve told you how Crete was! My family— I love them dearly— they
never really accepted me, given what I wanted to do. I wanted to go to
university and then have a career. Not be a housewife with a dozen children
underfoot.” Diana laughed, and the sound carried over the crackling bonfire in
the field beyond their home. Later, once the sun had set David Granger and
their neighbors would join them for the mid-summer bonfire, but it was always
Diana and Hermione who prepared it, even from Hermione’s earliest memories.

“Mum… I feel silly asking this, but no one in your family had magical talent,
did they? Even the slightest bit? Hermione asked, feeling ridiculous even
asking knowing that her parents were as surprised as she was when Hermione
received her Hogwarts letter. Her mother looked at her pensively.

“There were stories, legends really, back on Crete. About the old families. My
family particularly. I thought they were nonsense, just mythology and the fact
that Crete was supposedly one of the places where many Greek myths and epics
took place. But once you were born, my sweet Hermione, I did always wonder…”
Diana trailed off, but Hermione was on the edge of her seat.

“Wonder what, Mum?”

“If the stories were true, my darling. What I thought myths were in fact, true.
You being a witch certainly made it a possibility.” Diana looked thoughtfully
into the fire, sipping her brandy. “Sometimes I regret naming you after
Hermione, the daughter of Helen of Troy— you are caught up in a brewing war and
none of it is your fault.”

“Mum, you can’t be serious! My name has—“ Hermione began but was cut off.

“I was named after Diana, goddess of the hunt, a Roman equivalent of Artemis
since I already had a cousin of that name. Supposedly, our female line
descended directly from Demeter.” Diana Granger looked at her daughter.

“You are the beauty I always knew you’d be, my darling.” Diana sighed, changing
the subject slightly, reaching over and brushing her daughter’s unruly curls,
so very like her own, away from her face.

“Mum, I have this bushy Greek hair and no one even sees me as anything other
than know-it-all-swot Hermione Granger.” Hermione said exasperatedly.

“Good. Let it stay that way. I would rather you be Hermione than Persephone.”
Diana smiled lovingly.

“So… do you think they’re true, the stories your family told? Is that why we
have our traditions that align with every equinox, solstice, and seasonal
celebration?” Hermione asked quizzically, looking into her cup as if it may
hold the answers she sought.

“Possibly. We cherish the Earth, my darling, as the females in my line always
have, no matter who we actually descended from. We celebrate to remember where
were came from, to ground us and to see through the next year.” Diana reminded
her daughter as she did every tradition they celebrated together, and in her
letters to Hermione reminding her to recognize them on her own at Hogwarts.
Something Hermione always complied with secretively on her own, not that it was
very difficult given that Harry or Ron wouldn’t have even noticed if she wasn’t
actually heading to the library.

“Of course, Mum.” Hermione smiled at her mother. “You know, with this war… you
will be targeted. I’m a target not just for being friends with Harry but for
being muggleborn and—“ Hermione was cut off by her mother.

“If anything, you are earth born— more connected to the Earth than any of those
witches and wizards as your school. They do not properly celebrate any of the
seasonal days or respect the Earth as our Mother and the giver of life that
sustains us.”

“Why Mum, you sound positively religious there.” Hermione giggled. “But, I
agree. They may think ‘mudblood’ is a slur, that my blood is dirty, but I only
see myself closer to the Earth. I learned such fascinating things about ley
lines in my research. I’m hoping that maybe I can draw on the ones that
intersect right at Hogwarts in my Samhain rite. Actually, I think you might
find this interesting— I want to incorporate runes in order to call upon the
ley lines and use their protection for the school. I walk the grounds
frequently and the wards feel old and weak. I think they need the Olde
Traditions, from what I read in my research.”

“Just don’t tire yourself out my Hermione. And keep yourself safe. You’ll be
using that smokeless blue fire for your bonfire, yes?” Diana queried.

“Of course. There’s a little glade outside the Forbidden Forest— I’m almost
positive it’s where the school founders had their rituals to raise the wards
and celebrate the seasons and Earth.”

“That’s my Hermione.” Diana leaned over and gave her daughter a side hug.

“I meant what I said about the war, Mum. I’ve got to leave soon to help with
Harry and Ron and everyone resisting Voldemort’s return. I’d feel better if you
went to Crete and stayed with your family— I can tell everyone you and dad
fulfilled your dream to go to Australia but… Your blood kin is in Crete. The
traditions will have bound your family to the land and in return, the land will
protect you. While you claim that none of our family have been witches… I think
the Deo family effectively raised wards that will keep every one of you safe.”
Hermione’s seriousness caught her mother off guard.

“When do you think we must go? You father and I do have responsibilities to our
patients—“ Diana began, sensing the dire warning her daughter was imparting.

“At least a year. We will have at least one more summer solstice here. And I’ll
try to get away this summer to spend Lughnasadh with you. Actually, they won’t
stop me. I’m already giving up my summer to their cause, they can give me a few
days to spend with my family and my mother so we can uphold tradition.”
Hermione tried not to sound bitter.

“They need you, my sweet Hermione. And you will need their assistance until
they realize your worth beyond their sheltered world views. As if magic can
only be performed with a wand and their schooling.” Diana teased.

“You know I like to use my wand in front of other magicals. It’s polite and
doesn’t cause anymore undue attention to the fact that the lot of them are lazy
and inbred.” Hermione said with bite.

“That they are my dear. But you will always be my darling who can make sick
flowers bloom in her hands, and trail stardust behind her.” Diana smiled
warmly, reminding Hermione of some of her earliest displays of magic. Truth be
told, Hermione never stoped practicing what she discovered on her own with her
hands as a child, and a wand was merely a focus for other elements that was not
perfectly align with her connection to Earth.

“The stardust was always your imagination, Mum.” Hermione winked as they
clinked glasses and drank. Soon enough, the neighbors and Hermione’s father
joined them for the bonfire, no one the wiser to the significance aside from
the two Grecian women who built it.
***** Samhain *****
Chapter Notes
     Translations have been done online. My apologies if they aren’t as
     grammatically correct as I hoped!
     *”This Deo sends her respects to her ancestors, and the ancestors of
     this land” in Greek.
     **”Salazar Slytherin, wizard snake charmer— I invoke to appeal to
     you! Godric Gryffindor wizard sorcerer— I invoke to appeal to you!
     Rowena Ravenclaw wise sorceress witch— I invoke to appeal to you!
     Helga Hufflepuff sorceress witch woman of the Earth— I invoke to
     appeal to you!” in Old English.
     Big thanks to my Beta Havelocked!
The start to Hermione’s fifth year was equally utterly frustrating in dealing
with the Pink Toad (a name she privately used for the woman who dared to call
herself a witch and overstepped her ministerial bounds on Hogwarts grounds),
and yet also terrifying with Harry and the visions and insights into
Voldemort’s mind that plagued him. Coupled with the lack of defense training,
Hermione simply took matters into her own hands. She organized and set up a
training group affectionately called Dumbledore’s Army or DA and asked Harry to
teach everyone who joined. He really was a fantastic teacher, and so much more
patient than Hermione could ever dream to be. When not practicing with the DA
and desperately avoiding attention, Hermione hid frequently in the Room of
Requirement researching wards and ley line rituals, and talking privately with
the centaur hired to teach Divination, though she refused to take the subject
herself under Trelawny.

Firenze teaching made Hermione wish she was taking the class, but talking with
him privately was more than enough. He immediately recognized her earth magic
and told her a bit of what the centaurs had passed down about areas known in
the Forbidden Forest. He also divulged where in the extensive grounds that old
Earth rituals had been held. Hermione gained even greater respect for Firenze
as he told her privately how she could best summon ley line magic and gave her
warnings to prepare herself in advance lest she get hurt. He explained to her
that any centaur would always recognize a witch descended from the Deo clan and
have upheld their pledge to them—even if it had been centuries since his herd
had moved from Greece. He suggested should she ever be in danger from centaurs,
to repeat “Mia mágissa Deo dínei tis efcharistíes tis” or ‘A Deo witch gives
her regards’ as her status as a child may go challenged.

 Hermione was grateful for Helga Hufflepuff’s journal on Samhain when she
sought the glade beyond the Forbidden Forest, where the first wards of Hogwarts
were erected.
Hermione had no idea, however, of the audience that slowly gathered to watch
her rite. Centaurs stayed at the edge of the Forest; the whispers of the bright
Earth witch of the Deo clan had reached them, even if Firenze had been cast
out. Animals that were sensitive to the magic were attracted, staying as hidden
as possible.
A human had trailed her: a spy and double agent. He knew she was up to
something and Severus Snape wanted to know first-hand what trouble Hermione
Granger was getting herself into this time. No doubt, he would have to rescue
her from her stupidity, but upon noticing the centaurs and other magical
creatures gathered to watch her, Severus Snape stayed his course of action. He
would see what she would do, remaining hidden in the shadows.

Hermione set to warding the glade to keep herself safe and unharmed by those
bearing ill-will. It was the only ward she knew how to cast safely, and she
wasn’t about to risk her Samhain rituals on badly cast wards. She carefully
cleared a patch of ground and conjured a fire pit, before casting her
speciality smokeless blue flames to begin the rite. She took off her plain
cloak, revealing the ritual robes she’d been working on, weaving runes in
aesthetically and magically. She began by casting a circle of protection,
weaving in runes and charms to give herself space for what she was preparing to
do. Between the robes and circle, she hoped this was enough preparation Firenze
had told her to do. Pocketing her wand, Hermione began her rite.

“Aftó to Deo stélnei ta sévi tis stous progónous tis kai stous progónous aftís
tis gis.” *

 “Salazar Slytherin galere— ic i ingecíege! Godric Gryffindor galdorcræftiga—
ic i ingecíege! Rowena Ravenclaw— leódrúne helrýnegu ic i ingecíege! Helga
Hufflepuff— helrýnegu wyrtgælstre ic i ingecíege!” **

As she spoke the words, Hermione could feel the power gathering in the circle
and within her body. As she did as a child, Hermione elegantly brought her
hands up and out before holding them high above her head, discharging the magic
she was channeling, the circle she cast around her keeping it from spreading
yet. The rest of the ritual would be cast in English, now that she’d given
purpose and called upon the Founders. It was time to perform Helga’s ritual
that the Room of Requirement translated for her.

“Elements of Fire, Air, Water, Earth— Protect this land. This land is Hogwarts.
Protect those who inhabit here. Protect the children. Magic, I call upon thee
to strengthen the wards of the school as cast by the founders, as invoked by
Salazar Slytherin, first caster. As invoked by Godric Gryffindor, first master
of the school. As invoked by Rowena Ravenclaw, architect of wisdom. As invoked
by Helga Hufflepuff, a mistress of Earth. I am Hermione Jean Deo Granger, I
invoke the ley lines to bring my rite power to reinforce the fading wards. I am
Hermione, Daughter of Diana, and I will ensure that this land be protected!”

Wand in one hand, both arms raised, Hermione swirled the gathering magic around
her with her empty hand. The bright light suffused with blue mixing with the
gold and silver and bronze and black of the Founders’ magicks, strengthening as
the tension built, the pressure and power of the magic nearly suffocating
Hermione. She until she felt the peace described in Helga’s journal before
slashing down swiftly with her wand, dispersing her circle and the pent up
magic from the elements, the ley lines, and the residual magic of the Four
Founders. Hermione fell to her knees, as Helga’s journal stated happened on her
first renewal of the wards alone. Breathing deeply, Hermione raised her head
and smiled.

 This was her biggest and best Samhain rite to date— she couldn’t wait to write
to her mother! Hermione sat speaking to the blue flames in front of her, in
reflection of the year and her revelation on her ancestry. Hermione took from
her pocket a bottle of ale she’d bought at the Hog’s Head and poured it out
next to the waterproof blue flames, asking for blessings in the new year and
safe passage through the trying school year. Lastly, Hermione brought out of
her other pocket some bread and cheese as offerings, bowed her head in respect
for her ancestors and the Founders themselves who aided her this night. She
stood and vanished her flames and fire pit, leaving the ring of stones that
marked her ritual fire.
Lastly she dispelled her ward and suddenly became aware of the intense
concentration of magical beings at the edge of the forest. She could see the
centaurs who nodded in deference to her. A unicorn walked up calmly to her and
bent it’s head, tentatively Hermione stroked it’s mane as she’d learned in Care
of Magical Creatures class. Several hairs came loose in her fingers and the
unicorn merely bowed its head again before trotting off. A gift of five unicorn
hairs! Hermione quickly braided them and stuck them in her pocket as she donned
her cloak. Now that her fire was out and the rush and heat of magic had faded,
she was starting to grow cold.

As she started for the castle, a hand grabbed her and Hermione nearly screamed,
but seeing Professor Severus Snape, Hermione merely whimpered instead.
Surprisingly, his face didn’t hold its normal malice, but something akin to
wonder and awe.

“Miss Granger, you truly have impressed me. But where in the seven hells did
you learn that?” Severus Snape whispered, taking Hermione’s arm gently under
the watchful eyes of the centaurs. He had no death wish and didn’t want to give
the impression he was harming Hermione.

“The— The Room of Requirement, Sir. The Room gave me a translated journal of
Helga Hufflepuff’s on Earth Magic and how to use it to strengthen the wards. I
wanted to know more about my family traditions I always practiced with my
mother. Her family is from Crete; they have kept the Olde Ways since before
anyone can remember,” Hermione whispered, stunned at her professor’s behavior
but still scared.

“I must escort you back to the Castle. You are out of bounds, and it is past
curfew. You cannot be seen by anyone,” Snape hissed at her.

“But— a rite on Samhain, I have never missed one. No one has ever bothered me!”
Hermione protested.

“Invoking the founders in their tongue, your lineage— Sweet Circe, girl, did
you think no one would notice that wave of magic unleashed upon the grounds?
How did no one know you were a Deo? I thought they never left Crete, if they
were more than just legend!” Snape tugged sharply at Hermione’s arm.

“I only just found out myself! My mother was the only one to leave. How was I
supposed to know that my mother’s family was important? Everyone just told me I
was a mudblood!” Hermione spat. Snape went rigid for a moment.

“Don’t call yourself that. You are clearly an Earth witch of the Deo clan. This
Room of Requirement gave you a Founder’s Journal. Did it never occur to you to
tell someone?” Snape snapped at her.

“And just whom would I have told and how? That horrid Pink Toad is listening
everywhere. Harry is too overwhelmed and Ron is well, Ron. He’s a pureblood and
just doesn’t understand.” Hermione’s shoulders sagged at the thought of her
best friends whom she couldn’t confide in.

“No thought about the bloody Order that you and your friends were so hell bent
on trying to join?” Snape growled.

“Why? I was doing what they should have done— what Dumbledore and every
previous headmaster should have done. The wards were weak and failing. The Room
of Requirement gave me the materials I needed to research the wards and
protections for the school, what would be needed from me, and what steps to
take to protect myself. Excuse me for wanting a little safety in this school
instead of the chaos it is descended into!” Hermione snapped back, unable to
conceal her anger.

“I agree with you, Miss Granger. The wards have been weakening since before I
was a student. I didn’t know of any mage strong enough in earth magic to summon
the ley lines as Helga Hufflepuff did. Apparently Hogwarts needed a Deo witch
to do it,” Snape grumbled.

“Will you stop calling me a Deo witch? It’s bad enough that Firenze calls me
it, and the Olde Traditions require it, but I assure you I am Hermione
Granger,” Hermione said waspishly.

“In your ritual, speaking the absolute truth to magic lest it immolate you, you
identified as one of the Deo clan. Miss Granger, you simply are one,” Snape
drawled like he was talking to a first year, as they were approaching the
castle. Hermione huffed in response.

“Please don’t tell anyone. I don’t even fully understand it myself. It’s just
necessary for the traditions,” Hermione conceded. Snape looked at her
curiously.

“Have you never asked your mother?” he asked coolly.

“I tried this summer, and she said that when I got my letter and was clearly a
witch, all of the old stories from her family, passed down generation to
generation suddenly seemed plausible,” Hermione answered uncomfortably.

“What stories, Miss Granger?”

“Of Artemis and Demeter, amongst others.”

“You’re descended from them,” Snape responded.

“Me? Descended from mythological gods?” Hermione snorted.

“Demeter’s common surname in Greece was Deo. That is what being a Deo witch is.
Her line was believed to be that of myth, and if not myth, legend,” Snape
answered softly.

“Professor… what does this mean for me? I mean, tonight? Mum always asks me to
do the traditions even if we’re not together. We discussed briefly me
strengthening the wards here during my next ritual. We weren’t really given
much time to do more than a basic Lughnasadh rite with Harry arriving at
Grimmuald. No one wanted to let me go home for a few days,” Hermione said in a
meek voice.

“I cannot say what this will mean for you. For tonight, I’ll just say that a
group of dunderheads were setting off fireworks and I caught you on a stroll
after curfew. I don’t lie for students, Miss Granger… but I will keep your
identity to myself. Though Albus will know something changed with the wards.
I’ll leave you to deal with him,” Snape responded as they neared the front
doors of the castle, which opened with a flick of his wand.

“But, Professor!” Hermione said loudly.

“Hem, hem!” Dolores Umbridge in a hideous pink robe met them in the Entrance
Hall.

“Ah, Dolores. I caught a student on a Samhain stroll hoping to pick up some of
the olde ways that no one bothered to tell the bookworm no one practices. I did
not catch the hoodlums that set off the fireworks at the far edge of the
Forbidden Forest. If you excuse me, I need to take Miss Granger to see the
Headmaster about her punishment and detention that she will no doubt serve with
me,” Snape sneered at the obnoxious witch who kept trying to interrupt him.

“I do think, as a ministry representative and member of staff that I should—“
Umbridge began but Snape cut her off smoothly.

“No, I can handle escorting a wisp of a girl. She’ll be scrubbing cauldrons for
the next week. Now, I must get to the Headmaster to inform him of my report as
he is the headmaster  of this school,” Snape finished nastily, jerking Hermione
Granger’s arm to make her follow him to the Headmaster’s office, leaving
Dolores Umbridge gaping like the horrid Pink Toad Hermione thought of her as.

They walked in silence for 10 minutes until they reached the corridor where the
Headmaster’s office was located.

“If I may, sir— that was brilliant. What a toad.” Hermione rolled her eyes and
Snape snorted.

“I’m not allowed to dignify that with a response,” he responded with a slight
smirk.

“Cockroach Cluster.”

The password made the stone gargoyle jump aside and Hermione was ushered up the
stairs by Snape.

“Ah Severus! Did you feel— Miss Granger! What a pleasant surprise! Why, may I
ask, have you been escorted to my office so late in the evening? Hopefully you
didn’t over indulge in Halloween excitement!” Albus Dumbledore looked up
surprised from a stack of brittle old parchments on his desk that he shuffled
into a drawer and out of sight.

“I caught Miss Granger outside on the grounds after curfew. It seems that she
felt the need for a Samhain walk.” Snape paused to snort in derision. “I did
not catch whoever was likely setting off fireworks farther out on the grounds.”


“I see. Miss Granger, what do you have to say for your actions? I’m afraid I
will have to assign you detention. It is a very unsafe time to be alone and out
of bounds, particularly as our star muggleborn student.” Professor Dumbledore
fixed Hermione with a piercing stare, at which Hermione lowered her eyes, her
cheeks flushing in anger that was easily mistaken for embarrassment.

“I was taking a walk like I always used to do with my mother at home. We’re
very close, and I didn’t get to see her much this summer being at
Headquarters,” Hermione responded softly, marshaling herself.

“And you felt that a walk at night, alone, would make you feel closer to your
mother? Miss Granger, I certainly expected better sense from you of all my
students. I’m very sorry to have to take twenty points from Gryffindor for your
negligent behavior, as well as assign you detention for a week. Severus, please
escort Miss Granger back to Gryffindor tower. And… you may oversee Miss
Granger’s detention. I’m sure there are plenty of tasks in the potions lab that
a student could do.” Albus Dumbledore looked down his nose at the flushed girl
and his surly teacher, who had yet to release his tight grip on her elbow.
Hopefully a week of detention with Severus would put the girl to thinking more
clearly about her safety.

“Of course, Headmaster,” Severus Snape sneered, turning and pulling Hermione
along, down the stairs and out of the headmaster’s office.

“I cannot believe that man!” Hermione grumbled a couple of corridors away with
Snape still tugging her along.

“Miss Granger, if you wish for no one to know your lineage, then it is safer
for him to misunderstand you and underestimate you,” Snape replied coldly.

“True,” Hermione continued to grumble. “You know, I can walk on my own, thank
you very much,” she said, yanking her arm from his grasp.

“But this looks more like I am disciplining you, and as you should know,
appearances are everything,” Snape sneered, grabbing Hermione’s arm again.

“Anyway, the Headmaster looked to be trying to puzzle out the shift in the
wards you renewed when we walked in. You’re incredibly lucky that he didn’t
suspect you were behind it,” Snape said as he steered them up a staircase.

“Oh? And why is that a good thing?” Hermione asked, semi-interested.

“Because he’ll use you, girl. Don’t you see it? How he uses and endangers
Potter? I knew his Aunt; his mother’s family lived down the street from my own.
I doubt she’s changed from the shrill harpy she was when I last saw her when I
was 17.” Snape revealed.

“But I thought he had to live at his Aunt’s for his safety?” Hermione asked
quietly.

“There could have been other measures taken. He could have gotten Sirius Black
exonerated with two adult witnesses— even if you did try to knock me out, would
I be a very good professor if a 13 year old girl could best me?” Snape sneered.


“Dumbledore is playing a game of power with the Dark Lord and we are all pawns.
I thought there was no difference in who won until I saw your rite tonight,
Miss Granger. There have been myths and legends through time that when hope
becomes naught, a member of the Deo clan would come and serve justice. Some
societies were leveled and destroyed for their crimes. Others would be elevated
into golden empires. The gods have always been ruthless but also merciful,”
Snape said softly as he steered them closer to Gryffindor Tower.

“I am no god, Professor. I am a clever witch with a perchance for books and a
duty to perform the earthly rites as familial tradition dictates.” Hermione
looked away from him.

“The Deo clan have been called gods, others have called them demons, and my
mother called them saviors of a last resort. They judge without cruelty or
compassion, though they contain both in abundance. They are more than human,
with powers each must discover on their own,” Snape continued.

“I can’t be—“ Hermione started but was shushed with a wave of Snape’s hand.

“No one really knows what a Deo can do until she discovers it herself. You
mentioned this ‘room’ you use to study that is hidden, and that it gave you
books. Practice there. Discover yourself. And do not get caught. Do not be
caught up as a pawn.” Snape looked down at the short witch, who at 16 had
already reached her full height of 5’5”.

“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Because you are salvation, and you are the only hope I have left. I do not
expect to live through this war; I am a pawn for both sides. But you can end
the game, the war, before it fully gets underway. I can only appeal to your
good nature for that, despite that I am a surly, bitter man,” Snape answered
softly, turning to face Hermione.

“Because my mother’s family name is Deo, we practice the old ways and come from
Crete?” Hermione asked, surprised and still uncomprehending.

“Yes. The magic you commanded tonight is that of the Deo. And one should always
be honest with the Deo clan, they should honor any Deo, and see to their
protection. You, Miss Granger, will be protected by me, not because I am
commanded by a meddling fool who has no idea what you are, but because it is
the right thing to do,” Snape said solemnly.

“Ah, well, okay then. I accept?” Hermione answered meekly.

“Good. During your detention next week I will teach you to protect your
thoughts, a branch of magic called Occlumency. Otherwise, I will have to treat
you as I always have, lest attention be brought upon you, Miss Granger.”

“I will be eager to learn, Professor. And I thank you,” Hermione responded.

“You will practice every night by emptying your mind. It will help once you
start your training,” Snape said, switching into his more professorial voice.

“Of course, Professor.” Hermione nodded, wondering how she was going to get her
mind-- constantly swirling with thoughts and emotion-- to quiet down, let alone
empty.

“I will leave you here. I assume you can find your way to the portrait entrance
at the end of the corridor?” Snape raised an eyebrow and let go of Hermione’s
arm.

 “Yes, Professor.” Hermione grinned, practically skipping down the hall,
thoughts of new knowledge swimming in her head.
Snape could only shake his head and sigh, before heading down to his quarters
in the dungeons.
***** Self Discovery *****
Wednesday November 1st, 1995 dawned cold and crisp. Hermione stretched out in
her four poster bed in Gryffindor Tower, loathe to get up. While normally she
was a morning person, today she simply felt delicious in bed. Everything felt
so much more, as it had since coming down from the high of channeling so much
magic for the ward strengthening. She could understand better now why some
people would do anything for power, if it meant feeling like this. But,
Hermione was nothing but responsible and dragged herself from bed and dressed;
her roommates blissfully quiet in the mornings even if they were supposedly
awake. Not bothering to do much more than run a hand through her hair and
throwing on her school uniform with standard robe on top, Hermione grabbed her
books for morning classes. It should be a rather easy morning with Arithmancy
and Transfiguration. Hermione made her way to breakfast, knowing that Harry and
Ron were likely having a lie in with a free period in the morning, though she
knew they should be practicing Vanishing Spells for Transfiguration. She was
not their mother and far be it from her to make them adhere to any sort of
schedule.

She fell into a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Ginny Weasley in the Great
Hall. Ginny looked over blearily at her.

“You look way too good for this early in the morning, Hermione. Did you do
something new with your hair? It looks good.” Ginny greeted her friend and
continued her morning contemplations over a cup of tea she wished would help
wake her up.

“Oh you know, just ran a hand through it this morning. Can’t always be bothered
to deal with these curls before coffee” Hermione chuckled as she poured herself
a cup, hot and black as she preferred it.

“Hmm, well something does seem different. You seem… more.” Ginny smiled
absently before picking up her things and a spot of toast. “Care of Magical
Creatues— best be off. Don’t want to dawdle with the Slytherins and Pink Toad
about. Apparently someone set off fireworks last night on the grounds and Fred
& George swore it wasn’t them! So best to keep a low profile, eh?”

“Yes, Gin. Best thing to do.” Hermione responded, heart sinking. She finished
breakfast quickly and started off towards the Arithmancy classroom, when she
was stopped by Luna Lovegood, a surprising (in both action and ability) member
of the DA.

“Good morning Luna, how are you?” Hermione asked politely. Luna was always
pleasant, but odd. Sometimes her mind worked too fast for her words, Hermione
surmised, and the fantastical creatures she dreamed up were very entertaining
but well, imaginary and without proof of existence.

“I’m quite well, Hermione. It seems that you are too— your aura is
exceptionally bright today. Did you have something to do with the rite last
night that utilized ley lines and old magic? I see colors that aren’t your own
clinging to your aura.” Luna smiled brightly while Hermione scowled and pulled
the witch closer.

“Luna, if you know what’s good for you, you will be quiet this instant. We can
talk more freely in the Room of Requirement later if you like, but right now
I’d rather not get any more attention that I was already assigned for a mere
walk on the grounds!” Hermione hissed angrily, Luna’s eye’s went wide as
saucers.

“Oh, of course. I think I understand. I’ll just… I’ll see you later? Please?”
Luna asked hopefully.

“Of course, Luna. I’ll see you later. The Room at 7, if that works for you?”
Hermione tried to let go of her anxiety and smile at the insecure girl. Luna
Lovegood was confident in many areas but she lacked severely in confidence in
her ability to keep friends.

“That is perfect, Hermione. I’ll see you then!” Luna gave a merry wave and
jaunted off to her first lesson of the day, while Hermione trudged off to
Arithmancy. The class was mostly given to O.W.L. study with occasional
instruction by the teacher to keep the class at pace and completing the
assignments that would ensure they were more than prepared to receive
Outstandings on their exam. Much of the material had been covered the year
prior, and this year was merely more complex than new theory all together,
which would be attempted only once the students chose to pursue a N.E.W.T
level. Hermione had already taken to utilizing both practice O.W.L exams and
practice N.E.W.T.s to test her ability in many of her classes, so she let her
mind wander during this period. Once it reached a suitable topic she could work
out some arithmancy equations on, she turned her mind and quill to figuring out
just how much the renewed wards would effect the upcoming war and adding the
variables such as her being a Deo witch, Snape’s protection and status as a
double agent, and what Voldemort might do if he knew, and if he didn’t. The
equations were long and complex, and as she added variable after variable,
strayed into N.E.W.T level, not that she minded. This work was merely to show
the professor she was utilizing the working time in class, even if she’d
already completed the assignment the day it was assigned. This would take quite
a bit longer than just a single class period for Hermione to work out, but for
once, it was looking like things were working out in her favor.

Transfiguration was the same as it ever was. Hermione mastered the vanishing
spells quickly, and then spent the rest of the period helping Harry and Ron.
Honestly, if the two had any sense they’d simply pay attention instead of
writing notes to each other in the beginning of class. Thankfully there was
lunch next to distract the boys, and then double Herbology when she could
partner with Neville, who had a green of a thumb as hers struggled. It was
through his expertise that Hermione was turning into a functional Herbologist.
She knew the course material yes, but the practical work was difficult— plants
just didn’t like her the way creatures did for some reason. Neville assured her
that if Hermione only talked to the plants, they would grow better. Begrudingly
this year she tried and found very much to her surprise that it was working.
She never thought much of her own voice, but the power of voice and connection
must mean as much to the growing of plants as it did to other Earth magic, she
supposed. And she did talk a lot to animals, if she thought about it.

Care of Magical Creatures dragged on after double Herbology. They were studying
Kneazles which was interesting, had she not already learned all she could in
the standard texts and then in more obscure texts when Hermione deduced her
beloved Crookshanks was half Kneazle. Thankfully enough, the period was short
and soon she was free for the evening. Hermione grabbed a light dinner before
rushing up to Gryffindor Tower, mumbling something to the effect of going to
the library to turn Harry and Ron’s interest away from her.

At 7pm sharp, Luna Lovegood met Hermione at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy
and the troll ballerinas. With a quick decisiveness, Hermione paced outside of
the room three times, seeking a place to explain to Luna her predicament that
would also be suitable for self-discovery as Professor Snape put it. Luna
always seemed to be on the road to self-discovery, and Hermione felt no shame
in asking for help in this predicament.

The Room provided a smallish area, filled with sumptuous pillows and a few low
tables, many books strewn on them for reading, and floating candles like in the
Great Hall to provide optimum light. Hermione led Luna in and shut the door,
before demanding an oath of silence before she began her story. The younger
girl readily agreed, knowing that if Hermione Granger asked for a vow of
silence, not only was the information valuable and worth knowing, it was likely
to be dangerous in some form, which gave Luna a thrill, especially when she was
told that Luna herself was the first friend she’d be telling. And so Hermione
started her tale of the previous night, the ritual to strengthen the wards, how
she’d always practiced Olde Ways with her mother, finding out the importance of
her mother’s family in the wizarding world, and that she was now under the
protection of Severus Snape, double agent and spy.

Luna nodded, quickly absorbing what she’d been told.

“So you must be interested in the self-discovery that Professor Snape
mentioned. This is a luxurious space to discover oneself in. I’d be happy to
help— my family, or rather, just my father and I since my mother died, have
kept the Old Ways. It was a way to stay connected to her after she’d passed, to
honor her. I’m surprised how out of favor the Old Ways have fallen. Maybe you
will cause a renewal of interest in them, when your status is finally
revealed!"

“I hope it never is” Hermione grumbled.

“But if it isn’t, the war will become much much worse without a Deo clan member
to intercede. And who better than you? You can summon ley llne magic, as
evidenced by last night. Now you just need to learn to do it at will. And what
else you can do. Will you be like Demeter or Persephone and have flowers grow
in your footsteps? What will your happiness bring, as opposed to sadness or
anger? These are all things you will need to experiment with and document the
potential in each situation. And then of course Old Magics, and how they can be
applied. You’ve started with warding, but there’s blood magic and sex magic as
well, the very two oldest forms of magic in the Western European lands. I can’t
really speak for other lands, but blood and sex usually were the perpetrators
magicks and rituals that lead to magic and it’s own furthering and refinement
from them. I would think you should at least be knowledgeable in them, if not
dabble a bit. They aren’t inherently bad or good, but just simply one of the
oldest forms of magic. These days anything old or not Dumbledore approved gets
labeled at Dark magic, when it can be powerfully good.” Luna concluded.

“Do you not agree with Dumbledore’s curriculum?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Oh no. Daddy says— and I agree now that I’m old enough to have looked into it
myself, that much is lacking in our schooling. Why, as children we never needed
a wand to conduct our magic and at Hogwarts we’re taught to be dependent upon
it. So much so we might as well be muggles or squibs should we lose our wand!
And the old ways aren’t observed nor taught, unlike the muggle studies course.
Other things are available to students that shouldn’t be— I mean, you got a
hold of Moste Potente Potions in second year from the library! What other
things have been allowed to happen? No, no, I cannot say I fully agree with my
education here. It’s one of the reasons I cherish the lessons with the DA and
Harry. It’s true, self-driven learning. And why I am happy to help you.” Luna
blushed slightly at the end.

“I am most very thankful, Luna. You are a wonderful friend to help me. I knew
you would understand.” Hermione learned over and hugged her friend, and after a
slight hesitation from Luna who seemed out of sorts at someone willingly
hugging her, hugged back.

“I can promise that the Room will provide us with the most interesting material
we could ask for that would likely never be on a Hogwarts curriculum. Shall we
get started?” Hermione motioned to the books, and the girls giggled as they
selected their own tomes, along with parchment and quills for note-taking.

Luna, Hermione found, was a wonderful study partner. Complimentary, in fact.
They had different ways of viewing the world, but could peacefully debate any
topic. Hermione and Luna’s conversations were so magnetic that Ginny Weasley
found herself getting involved and willingly taking on the extra study time.
After all, self-discovery of oneself as a witch, and Hermione’s status as a Deo
revealed to Ginny under sworn secrecy, was far more fascinating than anything
else Ginny had going on aside from perhaps quidditch and the DA. She was in
between boyfriends anyways, so the time was well spent. The three of them read
through most of what Hermione had started on warding and ley lines, and before
deciding to move onto Luna’s suggestion of blood magic, as it tied into wards,
and stepping from there into the rest of the complex topic, how it could be
used in both dark and light forms, the intent of magic.

Their playing and self-discovery was as important as their debates, wands only
sometimes used as the witches cast and created and conjured and crafted their
own magics, pulling from their essence and souls, far beyond what a Patronus
would take for casting. Their sessions tended to end in giggles and delight as
the girls summoned magic, bent it to their will, commanded it, and above all,
learned about the origins of magic. At one point a portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw
and Helga Hufflepuff became a fixture in their haven, giving instruction when
needed and calling praise for Hermione, Luna, and Ginny. All three felt it was
a gift that the Room of Requirement would allow for them to not just learn on
their own, but under the supervision of two of the founders.

A few weeks into their meetings, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny had begun debating
blood magic, and how the current blood based feuds could impact it. The
portrait of Rowena looked thoughtful for a moment and disappeared from the
frame, while Helga rolled her eyes and sat at the large table where the two
sorceresses normally oversaw the three witches. To the girl’s surprise, Rowena
came back into the frame with two stocky men, one with red hair and a generous
beard, the infamous Sword of Gryffindor at his side, and the other being
physically dragged into the frame by the other two. He too was stocky and wide
framed, lots of muscle and a sword across his back, a wand peaking from his
dark green robe sleeve. His long dark hair was braided back and his eyes were a
striking stormy gray green. Noticing the three girls staring and giggling at
this antics, the man in the portrait abruptly stopped and sneered, before
taking a seat at the table with the others.

“Girls, with your discussion today I thought you should talk to Salazar, who is
a master at potions and blood magics. Sadly most of his work went down in
history as being just Dark Arts, and his work on blood magics and reservations
on admitting muggleborns to Hogwarts has painted him a villain.” Rowena
introduced the surly looking man in the green robes with the striking eyes.

“Godric,” she continued, “helped him in a lot of his research, though they
ultimately disagreed on the admission of muggle-borns.”

“May I ask was the reservations were? As I am muggle-born?” Hermione asked
tentatively.

“The spread of Christianity was taking over the muggle population and their
church forced them to do much violence when there was once peace. It was a
danger to the children to tell them they were magical, because of what their
families or communities would do to them. Or what they would sometimes do to
the other students trying to atone for their perceived sins. It was safer.”
Salazar Slytherin replied haughtily.

“It was not safer, some of those children were so repressed in their magic with
no outlet they ended up becoming obscurials!” Godric Gryffindor shot back from
across the table.

Helga held her hand up for peace. “Not now, Godric—“

“But if the child were to become an obscurial, it would have happened and they
have died before they even got to Hogwarts, unless you enrolled earlier than
11.” Luna said thoughtfully.

“My sentiments exactly, fauntlet.” Salazar smiled at Luna.

“Hmm, I always thought 11 was such a late age to begin teaching magic. Some of
the easier things, along with writing, languages, and numbers could be taught
in years prior. I don’t know what I would have done without my muggle primary
school. And having to help some of my fellow students who are born to magical
families; their grammar is just atrocious!” Hermione shrugged.

“So it seems the tables have turned. We hoped that headmasters would change
with what the times called for, rather than stalling on traditions. The
important traditions, it seems, have been dropped whereas others are preserved
for what, nostalgia?” Godric snorted and Salazar chuckled in agreement.

“We heard about you, Deo. Even as portraits we felt our residual magicks
respond to your invocation. Very well done.” Salazar complimented sincerely.

“Thank you, sir. I am just Hermione though. However I am the only Deo that
waves a wand, as my mother put it.” Hermione blushed.

“And you followed the my journal so exactly, with an elegance I never was able
to bring to the rituals.” Helga smiled.

“You were radiant for days after, I remember.” Ginny added, grinning at her
friend.

“It was my best Samhain tradition yet. Though I have yet to plan my Saturnalia.
I’m sure my mother has something fun in mind.” Hermione continued to blush and
turned to Ginny and Luna. “Though she did say that you both are welcome to join
us. I wrote to her about our time here in the Room, and she’s ever so proud of
us. She has some interesting theories on blood and lineage too, that pertain to
you.”

“Oh?” Luna cocked her head and the rest of the group listened on in interest.

“Well, for instance, you, Luna, she thinks may have a bit of the aura or even
blood line of the Norse god of the moon, Máni. You’d mentioned having some
Scandinavian roots as well as Norse ancestry, and with your particular views of
animals and nature, my mum thinks that’s where it comes from.”

“That would make sense. It would explain why no one sees the Nargles or
believes in the Crumpled Horned Snorkack, if they actually belong to another
world and have only slipped through— they are native to Sweden after all.
Daddy’s family is from there.” Luna nodded thoughtfully.

“And me?” Ginny asked tentatively.

“Oh, mum thinks that most of the wizards and magical folk of the British Isles
are descended from Tuatha Dé Danann. Makes sense, no? Especially with the
desire to keep the bloodlines separate from muggles?” Hermione asked, looking
to the Founders in their portrait and found them nodding in agreement.

“It was a popular theory, even in our day. Though I believe the belief of being
descended and gifted of magic by gods has been forgotten and merely the idea of
superiority and blood supremacy have lingered, sadly. Time does such cruel
things.” Godric sighed.

“It does. But, I guess you sirs both would be the best to ask— when I was found
by Professor Snape after renewing the wards, he said that legend said that when
hope became naught a Deo witch would come to right society. Was that a theory
even back when you were alive?” Hermione asked nervously. The four founders
looked at each other pensively, nodding.

“Yes, child. While Salazar traveled the farthest of us all, the Romans had
already been to England and their fall was said to be the work of a Deo woman
stolen from her family on Crete to be a high ranking general’s wife. The Deo
clan was always the most wronged yet the most just, and the most kind.” Rowena
answered.

“I traveled to Crete and met the Deo clan that lived there then. The women were
earth mages, unlike the witches and wizards I’d met in my other travels. Your
mother’s words— calling us wand wavers— that is what the Deo clan called me. We
shared knowledge and I left a different man. My last trip before I left
Hogwarts for good.” Salazar said, emotion straining his voice.

“You met my ancestors?” Hermione asked in wonder.

“Yes, sweetling. And you look exactly like them. It’s as if you’d been plucked
from my memory. One of the daughters worked with me, interested in my wand
waving in a way the others were not. She said a granddaughter of hers one day
would pick up a wand and reinstate my magic and she was curious about how wand
waving worked. I scoffed at the time as I was pushing the boundaries of magic,
even collaborating with the Deo clan as I did. I had no idea what she meant
until you renewed the wards. And that’s when I knew her words were prophecy and
a Deo that picked up a wand was among us. Helga suspected first, however.”
Salazar winked over at Helga Hufflepuff who laughed genially. The four of them
had been painted shortly after the founding of the school, sometime in their
forties, yet Salazar still played up boyish charms towards Rowena and Helga,
while Godric laughed or joined in.

“I made sure the room provided you with all the materials you’d need, including
my journals, when I realized you were going to attempt to strengthen the wards.
I overheard you talking with the Centaur, Firenze, is his name? I am glad that
at least some part of the school has improved to the point of cooperating with
other magical creatures to pool knowledge.” Helga responded happily.

Luna, Hermione and Ginny shared an unhappy look. Ginny spoke up, “We’re not
sure how long it will last; there’s quite a bit of pushback. Especially from
the Ministry. There’s a war brewing, which is one of the reasons we’re in this
room so often. If we’re not learning Defense, it’s the three of us learning
everything that we can that has been forgotten and likely useful. Blood magic,
for instance, could save a life just as much as take it. It can provide the
strongest of wards.”

The Founders nodded in agreement.

“Blood magics were some of the first magics that our ancestors accomplished
without the aid of wands or Gods.” Salazar began with a mischievous grin on his
face.
***** Pre-Festivities *****
Chapter Notes
     It’s gonna start to get weird up in here soon and those warning in
     the tags are coming to fruition. So if you’re not into it, this is
     probably the last ‘clean’ chapter. Turn back now. You’ve been warned.
Hermione had never been more excited to head home for the winter holiday.
Granted the last two years she’d stayed at Hogwarts, but this year was
different. Her family was going to Crete, and Luna and Ginny would be joining
the Deo clan for Saturnalia. It was all planned— the girls would take the
Hogwarts Express back to King’s Cross and activate the portkey Hermione had
arranged for at the ministry. Initially Hermione was going to create one
herself, but decided to go through the ministry at her mother’s behest. The
three girls realized the privilege they had in celebrating a high festival with
the Deo clan, and didn’t want to let anyone know more than they were spending
time with Hermione’s family in Greece for the winter holidays.

Harry and Ron were rather peeved they didn’t get an invite to Greece with
Hermione’s family, but after explaining how very traditional her parents were
and that Luna, Ginny and she were going to be focusing on girl things that
things smoothed over a bit. Harry and Ron bragged they’d be doing ‘guy things’
and Hermione had to wonder when that was different than well… ever?

In a different part of the castle, Severus Snape was preparing to leave himself
as the Dark Lord had decided to have the Malfoy family host Saturnalia on the
17th of December, but thankfully not a week long affair some some still hosted.
In fact, he was fairly certain that Miss Granger was taking Miss Lovegood and
Miss Weasley with her to one of the longer, likely thoroughly debaucherous
celebrations if the discrete whispers in his classroom had any bearing. Though,
he was somehow smug in remembering that both Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley would
both be staying the winter holidays at Hogwarts. As he was about to head out,
Severus heard a distinct cough from his adjoined sitting room. Wand immediately
out, the wary spy slunk into the room finding no one. A non verbal ‘Homenum
Revelio’ did nothing. Severus was perplexed; he definitely heard a cough come
from this room and there was no human presence, transformed or not. Scanning
the room, he looked for anything out of place. The elves knew better than to
hide themselves from him in his quarters lest he accidentally hex one again (it
truly was an accident and he apologized profusely to the little creature while
ordering it and it’s brethren to never sneak up on, spy upon, or generally hide
themselves from him within his quarters— it is a very difficult life when
you’re both a Death Eater and double agent spy).

There. There was a random portrait frame laying on the side table. The occupant
must have walked off, but what was a random portrait miniature doing in his
sitting room? Severus studied the background, devoid of it’s occupant— a
disturbingly similar room to the one Severus was in. Who on earth would have
had a miniature portrait painted in the potion master’s suite in the dungeons?
This set of rooms had always belonged to the potions masters of Hogwarts due to
their proximity to the potions labs, potions ingredient stores, a large private
lab for their own usage.

“Ah, Severus. How good of you to finally deign me with your appearance. I’ve
been waiting.” A mysterious voice proceeded a stocky man with striking gray
green eyes into the portrait miniature.

“I am afraid sir, that you have me at a loss. I do not know who you are, or why
you would have been waiting for me.” Severus spoke politely to the painting.
You never knew when one could be incredibly helpful— everyone seemed to
overlook portraits and being on their good side had paid off for Severus since
he was a student at Hogwarts himself. The portrait however, huffed indignantly.

“Everyone knows Godric bloody Gryffindor by sight yet me, ME! I cannot even be
recognized by my own house or head of house it seems, as you were in Slytherin
before you lead it.” Salazar said snidely. Typical bloody Godric. He still
hadn’t figured out how everyone knew him by looks and despite ALL of them being
on those, whatchamacallits, Chocolate Frog Cards, the candy that the students
and the current odd headmaster loved to eat and collect— He, the Salazar
Slytherin was forgotten. Much more so than Helga, and whose work was largely
forgotten (as sad and pitiable that was to have happened)

“My sincerest apologies, Lord Slytherin—“ Severus responded, startled before
the portrait cut him off again.

“No matter. And technically I’m no Lord, that was my brother. I went and
founded a school and traveled. Much better occupation of my time.” Salazar
chuckled. Severus quirked a half-smile.

“Call me Salazar. The girls do, and I am to understand you are the Deo witch’s
self-proclaimed protector. I am going to need a favor from you, in regards to
the young witch. I need to talk to my grandson… heir… whatever he’s calling
himself these days.” Salazar rolled his eyes.

“He goes by Lord Voldemort, but prefers his… followers… to call him the Dark
Lord.” Severus replied delicately.

“Yes, yes. I don’t exactly care. Brilliant thing about being a portrait. Had to
locate the miniature frame Helga insisted we all have done after the founding
of the school. Rowena managed to enchant them shortly before I left. Had a
house elf leave it in here. Poor thing was scared to death of crossing you. You
don’t beat the little creatures, do you? It’s poor form—“

“I do not, however I am not the easiest man when startled, especially as a
double agent and spy for your heir who prides himself on having and controlling
the most vicious of sycophants to lord over” Severus replied darkly.

“Ah, yes. Back to my heir. I need you to take me, well, the frame, to him
immediately. It concerns Hermione. The Deo witch.” Salazar nodded, while
Severus raised a brow.

“I do know Miss Granger’s first name and her status. However, I do know that
none of the other portraits know of it, so I am curious as to how you do.”
Severus asked pointedly. Salazar gave him a look.

“You really are going to make me answer this.” Salazar sighed. “First, even as
portraits myself and the other founders felt her invoke our residual magic on
Samhain. Second, Rowena and Helga have been overseeing and teaching her and her
two female companions in the Room of Requirement, and dragged me and Godric to
help teach them about blood magic— at the girl’s request to learn, mind you.”

“Blood magic, why am I not surprised Miss Granger is involving herself in blood
magic?” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

“As Ginerva said quite correctly when we started, it can heal a person just as
much as kill them, and provide the strongest wards. It’s neutral magic and the
girls have made some very interesting conjectures. If we had time we’d debate
all day but alas they have the sorry excuses for classes here and Godric and I
just have to debate without them with Helga making sure we don’t come to
fisticuffs over it.” Salazar shrugged.

“Sorry excuse for classes?!” Severus’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“I do approve of most of your potions lessons, but it’s a bit slow. And
teaching for a test, isn’t that a bit beneath a true potions master?” Salazar
mollified the irate man in danger of crushing the delicate frame he was in.

“It is. I don’t have any say except even the students themselves are slow. Miss
Lovegood is proficient, but Miss Granger and Miss Weasley are two of my
brighter students.” Severus shook his head ruefully.

“Indeed, indeed. Now that you know how I know Hermione, I do need you to take
me to my heir. There is much I need to discuss with him lest my own promise to
a Deo mage be broken. They do not take kindly to that.” Salazar shuddered.

“Which is what?” Severus asked suspiciously.

“Nothing that will harm the girl, protector. She’s coming well along in her
skills as a sorceress, and her companions as well. But as you said, my grandson
prides himself on having vicious followers, and I need to ensure he protects
her as well. Make the job on you a little easier, particularly if Hermione
faces no threat from my heir.” Salazar answered waspishly.

“I see. You know that Miss Granger wishes to keep her status as a Deo private?”
Severus asked.

“Private or not, her safety is my primary concern. She knows that she cannot
hide who she is forever, especially as she grows into her magic. She is
particularly gifted.” Salazar said sagely.

“That she is.” Severus sighed. “You are in luck I am on my way to a Saturnalia
celebration your heir decided should be held. I suspect it will be nothing
short of a horror show, but I will ensure you get a private audience with him
as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Severus Snape. I am very appreciative.” Salazar nodded as he was
slipped into the potion master’s cloak pocket, Severus smirking that even as a
portrait Salazar Slytherin would not admit to a debt.
 
Severus swept out of the room and from his quarters. In no time at all, he was
outside the Hogwarts gates and apparated to Malfoy Manor, where he quickly let
himself in and asked a house elf to show him to where the Dark Lord currently
was, and to announce him.

“Ahh, Severus. How good of you to come to my little soiree this evening. It is
most unbecoming how lapse in the Olde Traditions everyone has become.”
Voldemort was in a luxurious private study, with books and notes scattered
about. Research of some sort was clearly being undertaken. The Dark Lord stood,
reveling his height of over 6 feet. His white skin was like marble, crimson
eyes like fresh blood. His nose was flat, with slits for nostrils, his lips
thin, and head bald. He lacked his former beauty before he was reborn, but the
Dark Lord never professed to care. He knew his snake-like visage frightened
many and would occasionally draw out ’s’ sounds to heighten the illusion and
fear. Amusing, but unnecessary with Severus Snape, no matter how much drawn out
alliteration he could use… maybe later in front of Wormtail; the little rat
sadly lacked ’s’ in his own names, but Severus Snape frightened the pathetic
excuse of a man almost as much as the Dark Lord himself. Yes, later he’d
frighten Wormtail for his amusement, if only to draw out a mistake he could
torture him for. He couldn’t kill his servant for being pathetic, since the man
had performed the rebirthing spell for him, but Voldemort could still torture
him. Which he did, frequently. It was amusing.

“Quite agreed, m’lord.” Severus bowed politely. “The Olde Traditions should
never be forgotten or disregarded.”

“It was quite a surprise to me to hear about a magnificent display of supposed
fireworks during this past Samhain. It seemed to be the wrong sort of story,
and yet, I cannot get a sold truth for no one knows it. Severus, you are my
main follower on campus, my most loyal. What happened, Severus? I cannot
imagine it was truly fireworks. I felt something that night, and I can only
imagine it was connected.”

“I— I have someone you should meet, my lord. I think he will explain better
than I what happened on Samhain.” Severus produced from his pocket the portrait
miniature while Voldemort merely raised a non-existent brow. This, this was the
answer? The Dark Lord raised his wand as the portrait spoke.

“Now that is certainly no way for my heir to thank someone for a favor.
Severus, give me to my ungrateful descendant and begone. This conversation is
private.”

Voldemort lowered his wand. He remembered a conversation one night with the
ghost of Helena Ravenclaw who insisted that her mother and the other Founders
were portraits, but they preferred to remain unseen. That her mother had
discovered a spell to animate portraits in the likeness of their persons,
replicating memories and movement within and to other pictures. As a student,
Tom Riddle was put out that his own ancestor would hide from him. And now it
seemed the great Salazar Slytherin was seeking him out. Greatness was indeed on
his doorstep.

“I see, Severus. Thank you. I hope you see you at tonight’s festivities.”
Voldemort took the small portrait and sat back at his desk.

“Sweet Circe, boy, what did you do to yourself? You had been much more handsome
where you were at school.” Salazar Slytherin said in shock when he got a good
look at his descendant. Voldemort scowled.

“Reborn to a body through ancient magics and some of my own creation. One
cannot beg their choosing of looks. My power and mind are intact; that is what
matters.” Voldemort answered. “A Dark lord doesn’t need to inspire love to
those who look upon him. Just obedience.”

“Ah, yes. That whole ‘Dark Lord’ thing. What were you thinking with that?
Wasn’t one war enough? Why haven’t you had any children or grandchildren? Most
of your sycophants have.” Salazar shook his head. Voldemort chuckled
mirthlessly.

“Me? A Father? Children get in the way, smell horrendous, and create mess.”
Voldemort sniffed. “I am a Dark lord, that does not make a kind or loving
father.”

“It does not preclude you from carrying on the Slytherin line.” It was
Salazar’s turn to laugh mirthlessly. It sounded exactly the same as his heir’s.
“Your grandfather Marvolo thought he would be able to get out of it because his
father had ruined his reputation and lost the family’s money gambling, but he
had a shack and when his young cousin came of age, a marriage contract between
the two of them surfaced and he too, was required to carry on line.”

“And you’re what, going to tell me you have a marriage contract for me? I have
no living relatives— Marvolo never knew I existed, Morfin was crazier than a
bag of cats, my mother,” here Voldemort sneered the title, “ensnared a Muggle
into marriage and pregnancy with a love potion and my father despite being a
rich muggle and knowing I existed, did nothing to remove me from poverty at the
orphanage. I do not think any of them would have found someone this far in the
future for me to ‘continue the line’ with, contract or not.” Voldemort’s face
was twisted in anger. “If you were human I’d flay you but as you have
information I intend to pry from you, I won’t burn your portrait yet.”

“Ah, about that— I did take some precautions before I had myself smuggled out
of Hogwarts by the potions master. House elves are truly brilliant little
creatures, you should utilize them more.” Salazar smirked as Voldemort did a
test spell that bounced off of the frame.

“Now, yes, while it’s not marriage or a written contract, it’s still binding.
You don’t want to cross the Deo clan.” Salazar continued and Voldemort stilled.

“They are myth; I looked for them in Greece and found no leads. I read in your
notes in the Chamber about meeting with the clan and wanted to meet with the
mages myself. Descended from Demeter, no less. With the human Iasion from
Crete, before Zesus struck him down in jealousy.” Voldemort responded.

“Still a bloody know-it-all. You even respond like she does.” Salazar snorted.

“Like whom?”

“Like the descendant of the Deo I promised my heir to when she said one of her
own would one day pick up a wand and reinstate my magic.” Salazar snapped. He
was getting nowhere quickly. Why did his family have to be so difficult?

“You promised me to a Deo.” Voldemort’s voice was flat.

“A witch who was also a Deo. But the whole killing the muggle-borns thing isn’t
going to go over well with her. She considers herself one, even if she is a
Deo.” Salazar sighed.

“Why me?”

“I only said heir, not my fault you decided children were smelly.” Salazar
replied snarkily.

“Do you know who the Deo is? You must, if you’re coming to me now.” Voldemort
scowled. “Does this have to do with whatever happened over Samhain?”

“Yes. She renewed the wards on Hogwarts, invoking the ley lines, and invoking
all of us Founders in our tongue. Funniest part is the headmaster still can’t
figure out how it was done. She’s brilliant, and keeps herself hidden in plain
sight. And she has some very keen protectors, including the whole of the
Centaur herd in the Forest.” Salazar responded.

“How did Dumbledore miss that? He should have felt the shift in the wards more
than I did, as the last of your descendants.” Voldemort was perplexed.

“You keep him rather… preoccupied. He’s more concerned with his power game with
you than running Hogwarts.” Salazar said with derision.

“That would be his own fault. I do ensure nothing happens during the school
year, do I not? Or keep it to the end of the year after the children take their
finals? Education is important.” Voldemort chuckled.

“I would accuse you of having a sense of humor but it is beneath you with your
former good looks. Let’s hope the Deo thinks differently. You’re going to need
to become her protector— the headmaster has a death wish for just about
everyone, including possibly himself.” Salazar retorted. Voldemort sobered.

“Her protector? A muggle-born witch? You are joking.”

“A Deo with as much power as you at only 16.”

“The witch is 16?! Are you out of your mind? Of course you are, you’re a
sodding portrait.” Voldemort almost reached for his wand again before
remembering the protective charms on the miniature.

“It wasn’t so weird in my day. Women married and had children soon after they
experienced their first blood. Aside from magical folk, the muggles had very
short life spans. Anyone who lived over 35 could wield some sort of magic.”
Salazar shrugged.

“Age aside, you’re saying I have to become her protector. As in formally, I’m
guessing. I would have to offer her my fealty.” Voldemort’s brows furrowed.

“Yes, you should. Particularly if you want to keep enjoying that new body of
yours. She’ll kill you properly if not persuaded otherwise and you won’t be
able to outmatch her. The Deo are fierce and ruthless as they are kind and
caring. It’s a little disconcerting now that I think of it. But, they are fair.
So, get on her good side and protect her. Stop killing muggle-borns just
because their magic comes from ley lines rather than the Tuatha Dé Danann.
Bring back the Olde Traditions. Stop letting petty politics get in your way.
The line of Slytherin never has before.” Salazar intoned.

“So why be against muggle-borns at Hogwarts if you respect their linage?”
Voldemort asked, looking for a lie or any way out of giving his fealty to a 16
year old witch.

“Same question, every time. It always comes down to this. I rue the day I cared
about the students enough to think that it’d be safer for them if their violent
church didn’t stone them or burn them for being witches when they found out.
The spread of Christianity is why I was against muggle-borns at Hogwarts
because it was safer for them not to have any more reason to be accused of
witchcraft!” Salazar responded passionately.

“And blood?”

“I studied blood magic, some historians along the way twisted everything up.
Godric was my research partner and he and I only disagreed on admitting
muggleborns because of how to protect them. He thought they’d become
Obscurials, I thought if they were going to become an Obscurus, it’d happen
much earlier than we’d get to them and we wouldn’t be able to reverse the
damage.” Salazar explained.

“Hmm. So who is it that I need to pledge fealty to? The child witch, who is
she? I must have heard of her, if she was able to secretly renew the wards on
Hogwarts by herself. Last time it was even attempted was in the 1500s by a full
coven of 13 Earth affinity witches.” Voldemort half said to himself, half to
Salazar.

“Hermione Granger.”

“Friend to Harry Potter.”

“The one and only. She will be deciding this war, no one else. Secure yourself
by her side, and you live. It’s simple enough.” Salazar said smugly.

“And the prophecy? About Potter and myself?” Voldemort looked skeptical.

“Have you ever thought gods to be bound by prophecy? The Deo clan are favorites
of Fate and Destiny. They are judgement, wronged yet compassionate. You’ll be
far greater and have far more power as her consort than her enemy. Well, as an
enemy you’ll just end up dead.” Salazar deadpanned.

“I shall… think… upon this. Now, I’m supposed to be getting ready to attend a
Saturnalia celebration. I suppose it is time I see in what state the purebloods
are in when it comes to keeping the olde ways.” Voldemort rose and left the
room, leaving a muttering and annoyed portrait of Salazar Slytherin on his
desk.
***** Sacrifice of Saturnalia *****
Chapter Notes
     Notes: Again, these are translated online. Sorry if the grammar isn’t
     very good!
     *Saturn, we honor you this night in the greek rite. I, Hermione Jean
     Deo Granger, am your priest and your dagger in this earthly realm.
     **This peacock is given to you in willing sacrifice for your
     pleasure. May your pleasure bring us pleasure.
     ***This lifeblood is yours, Saturn. Our lifeblood is yours.
If there was one thing Voldemort really didn’t like, it was shoes. After a
decade of disembodiment, he grew to like not having to wear shoes. Plus, once
he could feel the ground again in his new body, it was glorious! Why waste such
a beautiful feeling with shoes? He could feel the ley lines through the bare
earth, ground himself for extraordinary magic everyone expected from him and
save a lot of money. It just wouldn’t do for a Dark Lord to wear thong sandals
or some other nonsense. No, being a Dark Lord was satisfying people’s
perceptions and ideas, so unless he extorted exceedingly expensive Italian
leather loafers out of Lucius (the man may be an annoying peacock, but he did
have good taste in shoes), Voldemort typically went without shoes and merely
threw a protective charm around his feet so he wouldn’t get any filthy muggle
diseases from stepping on a nail or some ridiculous thing.

Pulling out of his reverie in front of his wardrobe, Voldemort selected a pair
of expensive black Italian lambskin loafers he had Lucius buy him, and a set of
spectacular silk dress robes with silver embroidery trim that he made Narcissa
procure. The Malfoy family was obnoxious but they were useful. It was part of
the reason he made his temporary home with them while having Riddle Manor
remodeled. He was pleased to note that during his ‘death’ the goblins finally
got his paperwork finished on seizing the house from the Muggle authorities who
never recognized Tom Riddle Jr. as a legitimate heir to the Riddle Family. Now
he had their muggle money that had been appreciating in value and their muggle
manor. With the groundskeeper taken care of, Voldemort was free to place muggle
repelling charms, blood wards, and every security measure he could like. He
even took over the land and remnants of the shack that belonged to the Gaunts.
Yes, it was good to be Voldemort.

He threw a furtive glance at his study, where the portrait miniature of Salazar
Slytherin was still grumbling loudly. Voldemort thought being a disembodied
spirit was pretty awful, but as for being a portrait… Voldemort shuddered. At
least he was alive. That’s what mattered. He’d cheated death so many times now
it was almost becoming a game, immortality. Though the words Salazar had said
haunted him, that if he didn’t align himself behind the little Deo witch he
would die, and properly. Voldemort had researched the Deo clan and knew they
were a secretive bunch, and was heartily disappointed when he found nothing,
not a trace of them— figuring that they must have been legend and myth after
all. But to be told that he was essentially bound to one, and that it could
supersede the nagging prophecy that plagued him the last decade and a half,
causing his first downfall. What a fool he’d been! A baby! Bested by a toddler!
Sodding love and blood protections. How was he supposed to know that a mud
blood— no muggleborn, must get in that habit— would invoke magic that was
generally frowned upon in the wizarding world. Nobody just mucked about with
blood magic these days.

His musings kept him busy as he walked through the corridors of Malfoy Manor.
He’d chosen a delightful suite in the guest wing he used in his youth when he
visited Abraxas Malfoy, though what a pity the man never deigned to actually
join forces. Slippery one, but his son was easier to catch, and his grandson
will be the easiest of all. After several long corridors and a flight of
stairs, Voldemort entered the grand foyer to greet his loyal servants before
opening the doors of the ballroom to start the Saturnalia feast. Afterwards
he’d sit on his throne and watch his little minions debauch themselves in
celebration of a holiday none of them practiced anymore. Sad thing, really,
letting the olde traditions slip. It was one of the things that really made the
wizarding world special and separate from muggles. Now they all celebrate the
holidays that the muggles do— probably because it’s easier and it’s essentially
taught in the school. Centuries of headmasters failing to adhere to the
important traditions is what got everyone into this mess. Muggle loving fools.

“Ah, Severus-sss. How delightful to sss-see you. I mus-ssss-t welcome you to
our little sss-Saturnalia ssss-soiree.” Voldemort spied Wormtail shiver in
fright nearby as he talked to some other followers. The snake bit really did
not get old.

“Yes, m’lord. It looks like an excellent turn-out. Everyone is excited to
uphold the olde ways as is their duty.” Snape quirked a corner of his mouth up,
knowing fully well that the drawn out “s” was purposeful and done for the Dark
Lord’s amusement. Well, he had to find amusement somewhere.

“I had a very productive conversation, following your departure. I would like a
word with you alone before the feast begins.” Voldemort said quietly to Snape
and received a nod, so they both left and entered the first room they could
find, surprised to find the second sitting room occupied with three girls,
still in their Hogwarts uniforms, bound and gagged and looking very angry.

“Well, shit.” Snape broke the silence and the Dark Lord stifled a snigger.

“Who had the audacity to do such a thing without permission?” Voldemort asked,
trying to keep calm. He didn’t know the other two.. well one of them could be a
Weasley, but the middle one was definitely Hermione Granger, best friend to
Harry Potter. He’d seen her face enough in the boy’s dreams through their
thrice damned connection.

“I could not begin to assume, m’lord. We could ask the girls.” Snape replied
silkily. Voldemort raised a hand and the gag on the Hermione disappeared.

“Hello, little witch.” He began, uneasily. How was he supposed to greet her?
Flat out say that he knew she was a Deo and he was supposed to be loyal to her
if he followed what Salazar Slytherin said.

“Hello, Voldemort.” Hermione responded, her lips pursed in annoyance.

“I suspect, Miss Granger, introductions should be made. Miss Granger, this is
the Dark Lord. My Lord, this is Hermione Granger, the witch whom Salazar
Slytherin must have told you about." Snape interjected.

“Why would Sal want to talk to you? Interesting, powerful, but why about me?”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed at Snape.

“It was Salazar’s request, Miss Granger. He had your safety in mind. Apparently
rightly so. Do you know who did this to you? What exactly happened?” Snape
asked.

“Do you mind? This is rather uncomfortable and I don’t know the right
unknotting spell. Some mangy looking man— Pettigrew I think— tied us up the
muggle way so it’d be harder to get the ropes undone with magic.” Hermione
huffed. Voldemort quickly lifted a hand and the three girls were rubbing their
wrists and ankles, trying to get the circulation back.

“Thank you. No, I do not know who messed with our portkey from the ministry.
Instead of taking us to Greece, we landed in this room, with the rat of a man
waiting for us and petrified us and took our wands before binding us. I really
need my wand back so I can make a portkey and explain to mum why we are so late
for—“ Hermione stopped her sentence and glared at Voldemort.

“Late for what?” Voldemort asked delicately.

“None of your business. This is all your fault, anyways.” Hermione huffed,
looking away.

“Now Miss Granger, I had nothing to do with your kidnapping nor would I have
authorized it. I see no benefit here for myself. Do you, Severus? No, of course
not. Give me your arm, Severus, I must summon Wormtail to answer for this.”
Voldemort sniffed haughtily.

Just then the door opened and Peter Pettigrew, aka Wormtail, stumbled in,
shoved be Lucius Malfoy who stood shocked in the doorway, upon find his master
speaking with the evening’s entertainment.

“Ah, my dear… sss-servants. How lovely for you to join us-sss. Miss-sss Granger
here was-sss jus-sss-t explaining how sss-she’d been kidnapped with her
companions-sss.” Voldemort stalked over to Wormtail who cowered, not that
Lucius didn’t, he just had slightly more elegance and dignity in his cowering.

“My lord! I heard that the mud blood and some friends applied for a portkey
while at the ministry and took the liberty of re-arranging their destination
to, uh, join us, for our Saturnalia celebration.” Lucius Malfoy said with
effort.

“Lies-sss. Lucius-sss, you know how I detes-sss-t lie-ssss.” Voldemort narrowed
his blood red eyes at him.

“Well I did think they would make a good sacrifice or entertainment for the
evening like the old revels but, uh, you don’t seem to be in the mood?” Lucius
did everything he could not to stammer. Malfoys don’t stammer.

Hermione shared a look with Luna and Ginny.

“I did not authoriz-zz-e this-sss, Lucius-sss.” Voldemort glared at Lucius
before turning on Wormtail.

“Wormtail, these girls told me you bound them the muggle way. Are you not a
wiz-zz-ard? Can you not handle 3 underage witches-sss?” Voldemort hissed at the
visibly scared and cowering man. Maybe he could let up on drawing out the ’s’
sounds and hissing, but he was rather enjoying their fear.

“The-the-the Granger girl is very clever, m’lord. I didn’t trust her to not be
able to get out. S-s—so I bound them up the muggle way, and gagged them just in
case.” Peter Pettigrew was ready to wet himself he was so scared of being on
the end of the Dark Lord’s wand again.

“I’m sorry, I know this must be horribly entertaining but a whole clan of Earth
mages were expecting us over an hour ago. I’m going to send a patronus that we
have been detained due to a Ministry mix-up so don’t fire at me.” Hermione
interjected snidely, also rather amused at the cowering and fear Lucius and
Wormtail were displaying. They both certainly deserved it. Voldemort threw an
annoyed look over his shoulder and nodded.

“Expecto Patronum.” Hermione said sedately, casting wandlessly— her otter
blooming from her fingertips with a message imprinted, vanishing into the
rapidly approaching night.

“Again you impress me, Miss Granger.” Severus Snape murmured while Hermione and
her friends shrugged. It was one of the more recent self-discovery sessions the
three of them decided to work on that spell wandlessly. Voldemort himself
looked intrigued, Pettigrew hadn’t stopped cowering and Lucius had a wary eye
on her.

“I believe these girls are worth far more as guests for this evening than
sacrifices or entertainment.” Voldemort said disdainfully towards Lucius who
bowed his head.

“Sacrifice? Really? It’s just— do you even have a temple to Saturn here? Or are
religious about the Greek or Roman gods at all? Because it just is insane that
you would consider ‘sacrificing’ in Saturn’s name three virgins. I mean, come
on. One, he’d be happy with a cow, two he’d be pissed you wasted virgins! Don’t
you know anything about the old ways?” Hermione asked snottily, unable to hold
her tongue any longer. Voldemort chuckled, Snape looked mildly horrified, while
Lucius looked completely scandalized.

“What would you know about Saturnalia, mud blood?” Lucius hissed at her.

“Certainly more than you, Lucius.” The Dark Lord chuckled, turning his back on
him, deciding on a better, more fitting punishment for Lucius and Wormtail.

“Miss Granger, would you and your lovely companions join us for this… humble…
Saturnalia? Your expertise is sought to teach Lucius more about this
significant holiday, and Wormtail, you will ensure that the girls have their
every whim catered to while they are here.” Voldemort asked Hermione kindly,
with sincerity in his voice.

Hermione looked at her companions who were slightly on edge, but imperceptibly
nodded.

“We shall require our wands as an act of good faith. I have celebrated many
Saturnalia, from the tame to what I had hoped tonight would be the beginning of
the thoroughly debauched. Should you disappoint, I’ll burn the building to the
ground.” Hermione responded.

“And if we, shall we say, exceed expectations?” Voldemort inquired.

“I’ll allow this to slide unpunished.” Hermione responded. Summoning the wands
off of Wormtail, Voldemort return their wands with a quiet apology each. The
girls were stunned.

“Would you girls like time to change before the festivities begin?” Voldemort
asked.

“Yes. We will be ready in 15 minutes if you all leave now. Wormtail, Lucius,
you may wait outside the door to escort us to the celebration. I imagine since
you mentioned it, you would enjoy a sacrifice?” Hermione asked blithely.

“Yes, as the closest we would have to a priest, we would be most honored if you
would, Miss Granger. Lucius has white Peacocks, one of which would do nicely,
don’t you think?” Voldemort answered smoothly, Lucius looking sick at the idea
of one of his prized peacocks being slaughtered.

“Good enough. Please make sure there is a dais, a silver dagger, and a chalice.
Also, bring the bird to the dais as well so we don’t have to hunt around for
it. Ruins the mood and makes the magic sluggish. We will see you in 15
minutes.” Hermione watched the men leave the room and turned towards her
friends.

“Well, it’s not Greece, not yet at least. We’d only miss a feast there, but at
least I’m not related to everyone! Besides, I’ve always wanted to lead a
Saturnalia.” Hermione giggled unshrinking her travel bag from her pocket and
digging through for the robes she’d bought in Hogsmeade for the first night of
Saturnalia. Ginny and Luna were doing the same.

“It is rather funny to watch Voldemort fall all over himself for you. Why do
you think that is? I mean, he’s nothing like the Tom Riddle in the diary that I
remember.” Ginny shook her head while tugging on her dress robes and discarding
her Hogwarts uniform.

“It’s probably because if Voldemort has talked to Salazar, then he knows
Hermione is a Deo. And the Deo clan are higher status than purebloods, and with
her powers as a witch, Hermione is someone to acquire.” Luna decided.

“More like I would be acquiring him. I wonder if being a Deo could trump that
stupid prophecy between him and Harry. Now that would be a nice power to have!”
Hermione giggled, and the other girls joined in.

“Almost ready.” Hermione transfigured all of their robes white for the
sacrifice, since she’d be playing the priest and Ginny and Luna would assist
her. Hermione transfigured a scarf to match and used it to cover her head.

“Shall we play a game?” Hermione smirked, knowing her friends wouldn’t catch
the muggle movie reference. Her companions grinned savagely at her. After a few
quick words of instruction, the girls headed out the door.


As promised, Voldemort erected a dais that would be easily seen by everyone,
but not near any of the food or eating areas. Nobody wanted to be eating
peacock blood with their pudding. The peacock in reference was the fattest of
the lot, waddling in circles in the magical pen he’d set up. A silver dagger
and chalice were placed on a low table also on the dais.

Hermione was pleased with the decoration as she was escorted in with Ginny and
Luna by Lucius, Wormtail trailing them pitifully. The girls moved sedately,
without hurry or interest. Once on the dais, Hermione noticed there was no
representation of Saturn in the room to enjoy their Saturnalia celebration. She
pointed her wand to an empty area of the large dais and conjured a block of
marble, before transfiguring it into a statue of Saturn lounging on a chaise to
observe and enjoy the celebrations. Hermione smiled at her handiwork before
turning back to Luna and Ginny, who’d gotten the bird, the knife and the
chalice and returned to the center of the dais.

Hermione removed her headscarf in tradition for holiday, and began to speak
loudly in Greek.

“Krónos, sas timoúme aftí ti vradiá stin ellinikí ierotelestía. Egó, i Hermione
Jean Deo Granger, eímai o ieréas sou kai to machaíri sou se aftó to gíino
vasíleio”* Hermione took the dagger from Ginny as her two companions held out
it’s delicate neck. Luna placed the chalice under the neck. Hermione felt the
magic reaching out from the audience and the Earth, readying for the ritual
sacrifice to begin the Saturnalia.

“Aftó to pagóni sas dínetai se epithymití thysía gia tin efcharístisí sas. I
efcharístisí sas na mas férei efcharístisi.”** Hermione slashed the dagger over
the patch of neck bared between Ginny and Luna’s hands, releasing the pent up
magic and letting the lifeblood of the bird splash upon them and the dais, the
chalice catching much of it. Hermione took the chalice from Luna in exchange
for the bloody dagger. Hermione slipped her wand from her pocket, raising the
chalice above her head, wand in one hand and chalice in the other.

“Aftí i zoí eínai dikí sou, Krónos. I zoí mas eínai dikí sas.”*** Hermione
again let the magic build as it was called up by the words of the ritual and
the spilling of blood. When at it’s peak, Hermione brought her wand down
sharply releasing the magic. The room was left in a heavy bliss due to the
magic just performed, and was quietly stunned for a moment.

Voldemort clapped, causing the room to erupt into applause. With a nod, the
music and celebration truly began, the Death Eaters and other supportive guests
mingling amongst each other, starting the feast and continuing to drink.
Voldemort went up to the dais as Hermione was cleaning up, leaving the chalice
as offering to Saturn on the statue’s chaise, while Ginny and Luna murmured an
appropriate prayer before quickly burning the body of the bird in smokeless
flames and vanishing the ashes. For the white robes covered in blood, Hermione
waved a ‘Tergeo’ over them, leaving the robes and dais spotless, before lifting
the color changing charm on their robes.

“That was an excellent display of ritual sacrifice, Miss Granger. Tell me, have
you done this before?” Voldemort asked her, sounding almost humorous.

“Usually my mother is the one to sacrifice while I assist. Tonight would have
been my first sacrifice witnessed in the Temple of Saturn.” Hermione answered,
allowing Voldemort to offer her his hand to assist her down the steps of the
dais, while Ginny and Luna were assisted by other inner circle members.

“You have brought new meaning to the rite that has fallen out of practice by
purebloods, an error I hope to fix amongst all of the wizarding population. The
olde traditions are a significant part of magical culture throughout history.
Earlier Severus told me that you’ve practiced all of your life and never missed
a sacred day.” Voldemort continued.

“I have never missed a rite or tradition. A Deo would never even if we could
ever. We honor the olde ways, through which we honor the Earth. During today’s
celebration of Saturn and the turning of the wheel, we take our time to find
pleasure and give thanks for the bounty that humans enjoyed under his rule.”
Hermione returned, a small genuine smile forming on her lips. “The sacrificial
magic is already adding a heady feeling to the room, which will only get
thicker as everyone feasts and dances.”

“Let us begin then, Miss Granger, and we shall show our proper thanks to
Saturn.” Voldemort bowed slightly, and held out his arm for Hermione to take
and be escorted to a seat of honor at the feast. Without hesitation, Hermione
took it.
***** Blood Magics in Relation to Saturnalia *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this took awhile to post but tbh this is the first smut I've
     written so... I hope it isn't terrible. If it is, I'll skip writing
     it in the future and just allude to it. Anyways, enough about that,
     it's Saturnalia and there's some skelebrating to be done!
     Kudos to my beta Havelocked!
     Translation from Greek:
     *Saturn, I give up my virginity this night. In honor of my blood,
     bless me with pleasure, bless me with riches, bless me Saturn with
     power.
The evening was turning out to be significantly better than Severus had thought
it would be, mainly because of the unexpected ‘guests.’ Initially he’d been
worried he’d have to babysit them for their protection. However, the girls were
competent with severe stinging hexes, and frankly after the ritual sacrifice,
many of the minor Death Eaters stayed away. Anyone who was a clear favorite of
the Dark Lord was always given a wide berth and these three witches were
charming and being charmed by Voldemort himself. 

He’d hardly seen his lord so animated in academic discussions as he was with
Miss Gr— No, tonight she was Hermione, per her request. Just as Miss Lovegood
and Miss Weasley were for the moment Luna and Ginny. Disconcerting at first but
plied with enough mead by the two girls he realized he didn’t mind at all. They
were growing up to be such attractive, strong witches. And Miss— no, Ginny—
Ginny did have such lovely red hair. Severus always did have a thing for
redheads. Before and after his crush on his childhood best friend, Lily Evans,
Severus Snape always had a hard-on for a pretty red-haired witch. He could even
admit that Molly Prewett before 7 children had been quite attractive.

Hermione was rather enjoying herself chatting with Voldemort. He knew so much
about so many obscure topics she wanted to learn about and know, and his
traveling had been extensive in his youth after his graduation from Hogwarts
and stint working in Borgin & Burke’s in Knockturn Alley. Hermione was rather
jealous, as she’d always wanted to travel and study more. She asked him
question after question, receiving surprisingly well thought out answers and
both were happy their mead glasses had been kept full.

“Come to the patio. I wish to feel the air on my face and grass under my feet.
It’s not a Saturnalia if I don’t get both!” Hermione giggled as she stood up
with help from Voldemort, who stood at her indication. Luna and Ginny quickly
rose to join her, with a hesitant Severus and disgruntled Lucius. Lucius spent
the entire evening listening to conversation that sounded more like lectures on
who’s studied which boring and obscure magic that nobody uses anymore. Lucius’s
wife, Narcissa trailed after the group, along with a few other interested
parties within Voldemort’s inner circle. They had caught on to the fact that
while underage and looking practically like prey, the young witches were to be
admired as those whom the Dark Lord wanted his followers to be like. They
upheld the Olde Ways more than just through mechanical movements— they
understood and brought magic to the rituals and rites that had not been
witnessed in centuries. The Olde Ways were more important than bloodlines
apparently, if they could produce that sort of magic.

“No shoes! Come, it’s still a lovely evening— the grass is wet with dew!”
Hermione’s laugh was a magic of it’s own towards the others in the group who
had not yet given themselves to the pleasure of the night like the rest of
party had inside. All remained in tight control of themselves as they were bred
to do.

“Oh, you lot are not participating in tonight. Tonight is about pleasure— it’s
Saturnalia!” Hermione giggled and pulled a very small hip flask from her robe
pocket. Luna and Ginny grinned, conjuring shot glasses for themselves.
Voldemort looked intrigued, but stayed still. Hermione conjured a shot glass of
her own.

“A gift from Fred and George— they charmed this little flask for me to refill
itself. While not as traditional as mead, it’s still traditionally Greek;
Ouzo!” Hermione filled the glasses that Luna and Ginny drank quickly, and
Hermione chased them with hers. She then refilled the glasses and they were
passed along. Hermione gave hers to the Dark Lord, Ginny to Severus, and Luna
to Lucius.

“Drink, drink, drink!” The girls chanted and Severus merely shrugged before
complying. Voldemort felt like he was entering some weird dimension of school
days he thought he’d missed. He complied with the Deo witch watching him; her
lovely rosy lips compelling him to drink. Lucius sighed and knocked back the
drink, choking a little on the strong anise taste.

“Opa!” Hermione called, laughing and filling the glasses over and over and
conjured more, as everyone joined in, pressured by the three young witches.
After a couple of shots the group that had started staid and sombre, relaxed
and joined in the jibing and laughing. Even Voldemort had a bit of a silly grin
on his face.

“Let’s dance! Dance, dance, dance! No shoes, if you want to feel the ley lines.
We’re so lucky to be so close to several converging. Stonehenge is nearby, no?”
Hermione called, kicking off her shoes and pressing the flask into Lucius’s
hands. She took off into the darkening night, barefooted on the manicured lawns
of Malfoy Manor. With a steadying breath, Voldemort followed suit, toeing off
his shoes and stepping out on to the lawn. Luna and Ginny were next, shoes off
and running hand in hand, with Snape striding after them. The group eventually
converged on the lawn where Hermione charmed some bushes to sing, replicating
medieval style music. At first it was Hermione, Luna and Ginny dancing— the
curtseying and holding hands, stepping delicately in a circle. Soon a few other
women joined them, including a flushed Narcissa whose eyes were sparkling with
good humor and drink. As the women danced barefoot in the grass under the moon,
a white-blue aura was building, starting with Hermione’s steps and following to
every other in the circle. Voldemort looked on in awe as simple dance was
invoking the ley lines that converged so close to the Malfoy property. A
another “Opa!” and laughter caught his attention as Narcissa misstepped and
nearly fell, but surprisingly joined in the laughter as she righted herself—
unlike the very prim Lady Malfoy that everyone knew her as. This Saturnalia she
was called back to her girlhood when she’d dance with her sisters, laughing and
hoping they might call up some innate magic instead of accidental bursts now
and then.

Hermione called to the men to put away the flask and join the dance. Severus
was the first to comply, putting himself between Luna and Ginny, Voldemort
taking a space next to Hermione and so on the men filled in the circle and they
broke off into pairs circling each other, palms together, before bowing and
stepping back into the full circle with everyone, turning, turning, turning—
the magic gathering under their feet, white-blue and twinkling, lighting the
dance under the moon, warming the witches and wizards gathered in the cool
night. The 7 degrees celsius was downright balmy compared to the cold of
Hogwarts in the Scottish highlands. When the magic was at a dizzying high,
everyone turning and laughing and dancing and returning to the circle, Hermione
called out for everyone to raise their wands. And wands raised, they praised
the magic of the evening and released their circle and the pressure that had
held sway over their dance. With a quick and deft move with her wand, Hermione
sent the gathered ley line magic rushing out over the grounds. She grinned as
she turned to Voldemort who was looking at the little witch in undisguised
interest. Everything she did this evening seemed to be so natural for her,
unlearned, just instinctive. Who knew what rite they’d just performed, dancing
under the moon.

“Come!” Hermione giggled and tugged at his hand, urging him to follow her away
from the group and farther into the grounds where the light of their ritual
hadn’t penetrated. He noticed little white snowdrops blooming in the wake of
her steps, disappearing when she was more than five paces away.

“Aren’t you coming?” Hermione asked, her voice lowering— rather seductively for
a 16 year old. Rather than speak Voldemort complied, striding after her and she
laughed and ran on. He felt the urge to chase her, capture her and against
every ounce of personal restraint and control he did. It didn’t take long, only
a few hundred meters and they were in a glade hidden in a small thicket of
trees on the extensive Malfoy grounds.

“Caught you.” Voldemort’s tenor tickled her ear as he wrapped his arms around
her.

“I wanted you to.” Hermione turned in his arms, looking up at him, his face in
sharp relief thanks to the moon light.

“Everyone fears me, yet you do not?” Voldemort’s sense of self-restraint kicked
back in.

“If you meant to kill me you would have already. And besides, who else would I
choose as my first lover? Some silly boy at Hogwarts…” Hermione ran her fingers
up his arms. “Or one of the most powerful wizards?”

“You’re playing with fire, witchling.” Voldemort took a deep, steadying breath
as Hermione’s light caresses traveled to his shoulders.

“Perhaps I want to,” she whispered, standing on her tip toes, tilting her full
lips towards his.

“I may not look like one, but I am a man, Hermione. And if you continue I
cannot stop.” Voldemort’s sense of control was again waning.

“Why have anyone when I can have a man who looks like a god?” Hermione’s lips
brushed his jaw bone, unable in height capture his lips.

“A god, you say?” He murmured as he leaned into her touch, allowing her scent
to engulf him. It was arousing to be so desired, not as a powerful leader which
his followers saw, but in such a primal sense as a man— particularly since he’d
recently spent a decade disembodied. He’d not given into lust or desire in
decades and it was catching up with him. His own long fingers began gentle
caresses of her body: her waist, her back, one hand traveling to the back of
her neck while the other traveled south towards her intimate regions.

“Mmm, yes. Like I’d imagine the Sumerian god Enlil” Hermione toyed with the top
button on his silk dress robes.

“Who was banished to the underworld for seducing a young goddess. Tell me,
Hermione, do you want me to seduce you?” Voldemort leaned down, planting small
kisses on her brow.

“Oh, but I am seducing you, see.” Hermione smirked. “A blood rite on
Saturnalia— just a few words to draw power. Here, in the grass where we can
feel the ley lines.” She started undoing the top buttons, nimble fingers
working quickly. He groaned slightly, trying not to rip into her clothing.

“I am a cruel man, Hermione. Many call me evil, but before I fuck you into
being a more powerful witch with your rite, I swear upon my spirit my fealty to
you,” Voldemort whispered in her ear as his hand that had kneading her bum
crept upwards, buttons and closures coming undone in it’s wake.

“I accept your vow.” Hermione gasped as his magic disrobed her, her robes
falling into a heap on the ground. He stilled her hand on his chest for a
moment and she felt his magic rush out and complete a similar disrobing spell
on himself. His body was lean and taut, muscle and skin and bone. It was well
proportioned and very symmetrical— more so than any natural born body, shining
like white marble under the moon and his crimson eyes burning into hers. She
blushed slightly under his scrutiny. She’d never been so bold before, and the
drink was making her head fuzzy. She’d always dreamed of a moment like this,
but with Voldemort— the Dark Lord of all people— taking the lead in her fantasy
was surprising. The whole evening was surprising with his downright kind
treatment of them, and disdain for his pureblood followers who clearly did not
keep the olde traditions as well as she did. And her status as a Deo seemed to
lift her above all others in his esteem… 

Hermione did wonder briefly what Salazar must have said to his kin to ensure
he’d swear fealty— and what an oath that was. Her virgin blood rite, the
strongest one a witch could make in her lifetime, had been in her plans since
she, Luna and Ginny started learning about blood magic. Why not use what would
happen eventually to draw magic into herself, to make herself a more powerful
witch as she became a woman in not just body but in deed as well? And here she
was being worshipped as if she was a goddess herself. 

Biting and sucking and kissing and caressing, Voldemort was relentless in his
worship of Hermione’s young body. She sighed in his arms as he gently laid her
down in the soft grass. If he wasn’t already, he would indeed be banished from
society for this act, but what a seduction it would be. He wondered briefly if
the girl would tell anyone about her rite and selection of partners to take her
virginity— clearly as a Deo she could have her choice of partners— and her
choice was him. There was so much power available to her, ready to flow through
her or even just in her vast personal reserves. The thought of it made him
harder than her gentle, timid caresses. One of his elegant hands wrapped around
hers, showing her exactly how he preferred to be touched.

Hermione wrapped her small hand around his hardened cock, rubbing and pulling
at the velvety length with his hand guiding hers. The thrill of foreplay with a
man was new to her and she enjoyed how he took the lead to show her what he
liked. Dark Lord or not, he was a man and this was going to be an enjoyable
experience and not some awkward tumble. His other hand, that had been massaging
her breasts with the occasional pluck at her nipple that would cause a breathy
gasp, made its way down to her virginal center, one long finger gently probing
insistently, first gathering the wetness that had been forming and spreading it
around her opening and onto the small bundle of nerves that caused her small
frame to twitch and a chuckle to escape him. Slipping inside her with that one
finger, he internally groaned at how warm, how wet and how tight she was.
Working her now, he plunged one finger in and out of her, stretching her,
before adding a second along with a stroking motion over the hidden spot inside
her; another spongy bundle of nerves. Hermione’s breaths were coming in pants
now and she felt herself getting closer to something desirable, something she’d
never achieved in the few times she’d touched herself and the one other time
she’d allowed her first boyfriend to touch her.

“Please, please!” Hermione chanted over and over not even knowing quite what
she was begging for. Logically she knew it was an orgasm: she’d heard about
them and that it could be difficult for a female but it seemed that Voldemort
was a very skilled lover. Her begging brought out the more base side of
Voldemort that was all Dark Lord who thrived on power and pain and begging, the
sweetest of all being the pleading of someone who truly wants something that is
in his power to give or deny. In a skilled move, he brushed his thumb over her
clit, the nub of nerves going haywire with every motion as he brought her
closer and closer and kissed her more forcefully, swallowing her pleas and
pleasure and moans. And in the next moment she was there— falling over the
crest and seeing stars as her tight passage rhythmically squeezed his fingers.
He prolonged her pleasure, slipping a third finger in her and continuing his
stroking and stretching as her muscles clamped down on him. Her small hand
encased in his never stopped rubbing him, each stroke masterfully teasing his
erection against her soft skin. He pulled his fingers from her, licking them
each, tasting her pleasure and enjoying the sweet tang of her musk. He kissed
her again, so she could taste herself on his tongue, something she found
incredibly erotic.

“I’m going to take you now, little witch. Whatever words you need to say, now
is the time,” he whispered huskily in her ear, as he drew her to him, slipping
an arm under her shoulders, the other hand still enveloping hers on his cock.
Despite his size and girth she was not terribly afraid because of the alcohol
perhaps, or the rite, or just that she knew she was ready.

“Krónos, paradído tin parthenía mou aftí ti nýchta. Pros timín tou aímatós mou,
evlogíste me efcharístisi, evlogó me ploúti, evlogíste me ton Króno me dýnami.”
* Hermione chanted as the Dark Lord, hand still wrapped around hers, guided his
length to her sopping core. Together they guided him into her as he gave gentle
thrusts, slightly moving deeper into her until he reached her barrier. At her
nod, he thrust forcefully through and she cried out, clutching the back of his
neck as her back arched. A few tears escaped, which he kissed away, savoring
the saltiness of her tears. He rested his forehead on hers, holding her close
to him, trying to keep his breathing steady as he waited for her to be ready to
continue.

Hermione’s breathing returned to an acceptable level and she gave her hips an
experimental thrust, pushing him even farther into her, which she hadn’t
thought was possible. Voldemort groaned slightly above her and began moving,
slowly at first, dragging out and then pushing in— further than his initial
thrust until she felt overstuffed, his balls slapping against her. And the
process would repeat again and again until she thought she’d go mad. She tried
pushing her hips up, meeting him this time for his slow thrust and felt a
delicious shock of pleasure run through her. Voldemort moaned slightly and
began to speed up his pace, Hermione meeting him, every thrust, lifting her
hips so he’d be fully seated in her before he dragged himself out and thrust
himself back in.

As they engaged in the dance as old as time, light was suffusing the glade,
emanating  from the couple copulating on the grass. Similar to when the ley
lines were summoned, they gathered power and magic as they fucked, sex being an
age old rite of summoning magic— one that even muggles participated in even if
they didn’t realize it. It took innate magic to create life and the act of
creating it would still summon power. This exquisite experience of being human
was one Voldemort had missed significantly while disembodied, though it’d been
quite a while since he’d indulged in any sexual activity, believing himself
above it. Some things you don’t realize you miss until you can’t have them. Yet
here he was, fucking power into a gorgeous young witch who was the only person
he’d come across in his many years of life to being close to his equal. He
would be loathe to give up fucking, but knew it wouldn’t be the same with
anyone but Hermione. How was it that he woke up this morning as The Dark Lord
Voldemort and by the night was balls deep in a little witch who he’d pledged
his spirit in fealty to? Mysteries of magic and power and Saturnalia, one could
suppose, he thought cupping her cheek and kissing her fiercely. 

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer going at the pace he was and it was time
to make his little witch come with abandon. Slipping a hand between them as he
thrust into her with more and more speed and force, little gasps and moans
slipping from her lips as sweet as candy, Voldemort traced her engorged clit
delicately, making Hermione buck and writhe beneath him. Smirking into her hair
he matched his tracing to his thrusting rhythm and quickly Hermione was gasping
and mewling and suddenly her muscles clamped down on his cock tight as a vise
as he thrust home once, twice more in her pulsating orgasm before he found his
own release. Both of them stilled in the expectant air that seemed to coalesce
around them, the aura of the power generated in their coupling seeping into her
skin, leaving her glowing with both power and the healthy post-orgasmic haze.

“That was,” Hermione began but her panting caused her to pause to breathe,
“absolutely amazing.” She kissed where his nose would be if he had one. While
she felt sticky and sweaty and starting to chill now their exercise had ceased,
she noticed Voldemort didn’t seem to sweat at all. Perhaps it just wasn’t
fitting for a Dark Lord to be sweaty, no matter what the activity. He was truly
godlike, poised above her, arms cradling her, his white skin shining in the
moonlight, and his eyes like pools of blood. She considered that others would
be frightened by the sight, but she was not like other girls. She only saw a
powerful, godlike man who had not only fucked her for the first time, but made
it well worth remembering.

“Mmm. That it was, Hermione,” he murmured, smoothing her curls out of her face.
He dipped his head and trailed open kisses along her neck, savoring her taste
and smell after sex. Quite against her will, the cold caught up to her and she
was shivering and covered in goosebumps everywhere that he didn’t cover her.

“You are cold. Come to my rooms, I will warm you up again, if you like.”
Voldemort smirked at her, a mischievous glint in his red eyes.

“I would like that.” Hermione smiled back as he slid out of her, casting a
quick cleansing charm as he plucked up her robes to throw over her, before
gathering his own to do the same. He pulled a bit of earthy debris from her
hair and smoothed out her curls before offering his arm to walk her inside.

Once at his rooms, Hermione was questioning her sanity at going at it again
with the Dark Lord. Some would question her sanity for wanting to fuck him
once, much less let him take her virginity. Hermione mostly worried she’d be
destroyed in pleasure and it’d just never be as good again. Sworn fealty or
not, she didn’t assume that she’d be riding the Dark Lord whenever she chose,
even if she was Deo witch. Plus, she was a little worried her untried body
would protest. However, the time for declining was past and now was still
Saturnalia, a time for pleasure. She’d simply have to hope that Saturn was on
her side in indulgence in sexual pleasures.

Once they were inside his bedroom, the two looked at each other in confusion as
loud sounds of sexual congress filtered in from another room. Quickly crossing
to the study, Voldemort spelled the sconces alight and his anger melted into
vague annoyance and amusement. He crooked a finger at Hermione who joined him
at the door and stifled a giggle. Salazar was apparently entertaining a Malfoy
ancestor in his small frame, barely visible under voluminous skirts, which hid
all but the unmistakable Malfoy blonde hair.

“Glad to see you indulging in Saturnalia fun, Sal,” Hermione called from across
the room, startling Salazar who nearly fell off the bench on which he was
entertaining his lady friend.

“Ahh, little Hermione. And my heir? How lovely to see you both… I’ve missed
something.” Salazar looked between the two of them and shrugged, murmuring
soothing words to the blonde woman that he’d be resuming in a moment.

“Or nothing at all. Enjoy your Saturnalia, Salazar. We’ll catch up another
time.” Hermione giggled, extinguishing the lights with a flick of her wrist and
pulling Voldemort back into his bedroom, firmly shutting the door to the study
as the giggling and moaning started back up again between the portraits in the
next room.

“Now little witch, where was I… Yes, I was going to warm you up while I
continued worshipping your beautiful body.” Voldemort undid the buttons on her
robes and set to work, not wasting a moment.
Hermione was in bliss.
***** New Beginnings *****
Chapter Notes
     Big thanks to my beta Havelocked! Hopefully the story will be easier
     to read without my terribly long sentences, spelling mistakes and
     grammar faux pas.
      
     Translation:
     *Farewell! (also hail/welcome). Informal, singular in Ancient Greek.
 
“Salazar! Have you seen Miss— Hermione?” Severus spotted Salazar Slytherin
escorting a flushed portrait of a young Malfoy ancestor in 18th century French
dress through some landscapes when he called out to him.
 
“Ah, Severus. And Luna and Ginny! Have you been enjoying your Saturnalia?”
Salazar asked, eyes dancing in merriment. The group were rather flushed,
similar to his companion, and more than a little disheveled.
 
“We have, Sal. We have very much. Probably as much as you. However after
dancing Hermione ran off with the Dark Lord, and well, it’s been a few hours
now,” Ginny returned with a smirk.
 
“We suspect she’s fine, but Sev is nervous all the same.” Luna smiled dreamily
while Ginny elbowed Severus with a giggle.
 
“He has nothing to be nervous about. They are, ah, enjoying their Saturnalia.
Have you met Annette?” Salazar changed the subject, introducing his companion.
 
“Annette, how lovely to meet you. Have you had a pleasurable Saturnalia?” Luna
asked politely.
 
“Oui, mademoiselle. Ze Dark Lord and your friend ee-nterrupted us, but we did
‘ave fun. Eet ‘as been too long since I celebrated Saturnalia!” Annette
giggled, leaning to Salazar to steal a quick kiss that made the Founder blush
slightly.
 
“The delights of a visiting portrait. I will ensure we meet again very soon,
Annette. If you would mind terribly letting me speak with my friends
privately?” Salazar requested and Annette Malfoy nodded before scurrying off to
her own portrait frame in another room.
 
“I wish I had been alive to enjoy the French of the 18th century. What an
uninhibited bunch!” Salazar grinned broadly while Ginny laughed outright and
Severus stifled a snigger.
 
“So, Hermione is with Voldemort?” Ginny asked.
 
“Yes, and having a very good time if her cries of pleasure were anything to go
from.” Salazar smirked as Severus went a little pale and Ginny high-five’d
Luna.
 
“I take it you ladies have no concerns about your friend being with the Dark
Lord?” Severus raised a brow at them.
 
“With the way they were having intellectual sex during the feast and the eye-
fucking going on, I thought it was a given!” Ginny laughed, with Luna nodding
in agreement.
 
“She did seem to radiate a bit— how much magic was she channeling this evening?
She might have a hard time coming down from it all tomorrow,” Salazar asked.
 
“Hermione was careful, Sal. She only channeled the sacrifice, and then
dispersed a group invocation of ley lines while we danced outside under the
moon. Though if she’s um, enjoying the Dark Lord then she would have done a
virginal blood rite to draw in power.” Luna responded offhandedly.
 
“She— what?!” Severus was dumbfounded but Salazar looked quite pleased.
 
“That’s my little sorceress! A virgin’s blood rite on Saturnalia while riding
the high of ritual magic channeled. She will gain quite a bit of power through
that.” Salazar nodded, pondering the implications.
 
“This was the blood magic you were teaching them?” Severus asked, torn between
bewildered and appalled.
 
“Circe, no! The girls did inquire about virginal blood rites but we barely
covered it. I suspect Godric and I were only confirming what the girls already
knew, given the books the Room of Requirement was supplying them,” Salazar
laughed. “You should really join them sometime, Severus. Perhaps a Potions
lesson that I cannot do because I lack a corporeal form.”
 
“Ooh, Sev that would be amazing!” Ginny purred, grasping Severus’s arm to her
chest. The long suffering Potions professor, reminded of his station, was
starting to feel a bit peaky.
 
“I don’t think Sev likes to be reminded he’s our professor;” Luna laughed. “I
don’t see why not. A knowledgeable man is much sexier than someone who’s just
pretty to look at—“
 
“And then you want to hex them as soon as they open their mouth!” Ginny
finished. Salazar laughed while Severus shook his head.
 
“I doubt my heir will be finished with our little sorceress any time soon, so I
would find a guest room in this mansion for the evening and continue enjoying
Saturnalia.” Salazar winked before slipping off himself, no doubt in search of
Annette or another pretty Malfoy portrait to busy himself with.
 
“Come, Severus. Let’s finish our celebration. We can go back to your room.”
Ginny grinned and she and Luna led the way back to the guest room they had been
in previously, Severus following behind them enjoying the view, pretending to
be put upon by the girls. It wasn’t every day he got to play with two flexible
witches who were more than eager for him.
 
 
The next morning was much smoother and serener than Hermione had hoped for.
She’d woken up in the arms of the Dark Lord, his cool skin soothing against
hers. They enjoyed yet another round of sex, luxuriating in the aftermath of
channeling magic from the night before— it definitely heightened the senses and
added to their coupling. In the light of the morning Hermione cupped his face
and merely stated, “My Enlil,” with a smile before slipping out of bed to the
bathroom to clean up what cleaning charms could never accomplish: the actual
feel of cleanliness after a wash. Her morning ablutions out of the way,
Voldemort escorted her downstairs to breakfast, where Ginny and Luna were
already seated with Snape in between them. A wink from Ginny told Hermione
there would indeed be stories for telling once they left.
 
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy arrived and breakfast truly began, the Malfoys
seated to the left of the Dark Lord. Hermione was seated to his immediate
right, and her friends along with Severus next to her. About halfway through
breakfast the group was interrupted when Draco Malfoy burst in, eager to see
his parents. Instead, he was downright shocked to see schoolmates he detested
sitting at the table with his parents and the Dark Lord, with the worst of them
at the Dark Lord’s right hand!
 
“Mother— oh. Erm. Hello,” Draco spluttered, unable to comprehend the situation.
 
“Ah, young Draco. Good morning. Do join us for breakfast.” Voldemort smiled
wanly, gesturing to the open chair next to Draco’s mother, Narcissa.
 
“Did you have a good evening at Theo’s, Draco?” Narcissa asked warmly, as he
sat and motioned for a house elf to serve him coffee.
 
“Erm, Yes. It was quite nice. There were a few of us whose parents were well,
here, so we had our own little Saturnalia,” Draco mumbled, as the Dark Lord
looked at him with interest.
 
“I’m glad the younger generation is taking to upholding the Olde Ways much more
than the previous.” Voldemort commented.
 
“It is nice to connect with one’s roots. If only basic rites were taught at
Hogwarts still, we may not have seen a decline at all,” Hermione responded,
sipping her coffee, amused at Draco’s look of indecision on how to respond.
 
“Indeed, such a shame.” The Dark Lord nodded in agreement.
 
“Did you have an enjoyable Saturnalia, my Lord?” Draco asked, probing the
situation he couldn’t comprehend.
 
“Quite. Hermione and her companions performed a magnificent ritual sacrifice,”
Voldemort paused as Lucius choked briefly on his morning tea, still upset about
losing one of his prized white peacocks. “And she led us through invoking ley
lines through dance.”
 
“That was the first time that actually worked for me,” Narcissa inserted.
 
“Oh?” Hermione asked, interested.
 
“My sisters and I, when we were little girls, we’d try to channel our magic
under the moon through dancing. Last night was a lovely reminder of that.”
Narcissa smiled at the young witch across from her.
 
“It could have been the location— the Manor here is wonderfully located close
to many ley lines converging. With wands out and magic flowing, it does make it
easier to invoke petty magicks through dancing. It’s the repetition I think, in
dancing, that helps it work. Plus stating one’s intent can help,” Hermione
mused as she set her coffee down and returned to her breakfast plate.
 
“I can say we did not have such a perfect location as here when I was a girl.”
Narcissa smiled at her husband and clasped his hand briefly. Draco was numb
with shock, his coffee forgotten on the way to his mouth. Granger led a
sacrifice? And invoked ley lines that his mother was unable to? And Granger
cozy at the right hand of the Dark Lord? Clearly he must have stepped into some
alternate dimension, that included Loony Lovegood and the Weaselette getting
cozy with his godfather Severus.
 
“My mother always insisted I trailed stardust when I danced barefoot on the
earth, but after research I realized it was just latent ley line magic.”
Hermione smiled and the Dark Lord looked pleased.
 
“How young were you?” Voldemort murmured, leaning over to Hermione, brushing a
curl from her face.
 
“Since I was four, at least. We live outside of London, but there is a ley line
behind our house.” Hermione blushed slightly at the Dark Lord’s attention, and
the deliberate inattention of everyone else. Draco on the other hand, was
staring.
 
“I see you’ve forgotten your manners, Draco. Or perhaps you need an
introduction? This is Hermione Jean  Deo  Granger,” Voldemort said silkily,
stressing the ‘Deo’ in Hermione’s name. Hermione raised a brow at him before
continuing with her meal.
 
“I’m sorry, Ganger, I did not mean any disrespect. I’m sure you have been shown
every courtesy in my home,” Draco tried to redeem himself.
 
“After I was aware of her presence, yes. Hermione has kept her status as a Deo
well hidden over the years. It would not do after her service to us,” here
Voldemort smirked at her, “to not respect her wishes.” The implied threat was
clear: do not say anything about Hermione being a Deo witch.
 
“Yes, well it was a lovely celebration. However, ours has just begun and we are
expected in Greece to continue Saturnalia for the entire duration. Luna, Ginny,
if you’d join me in the parlor when you’re done, we’ll portkey to Crete.”
Hermione stood gracefully, and Voldemort stood with her, causing everyone else
to stand in respect.
 
“Let me escort you to the parlor then,” Voldemort decided, extending his arm to
Hermione and guiding her from the room. Everyone else resumed their breakfast,
a very perplexed Draco still trying to puzzle out the situation he was just in.
 
 
Once in the parlor, Voldemort pushed Hermione against a wall and kissed her
ferociously.
 
“I still want you, little witch,” he breathed, his hands ghosting over her
flesh.
 
“And I you, my Enlil. But I will see you again if you are amenable.”  Hermione
smiled coyly.
 
“That I am,” The Dark Lord murmured, sucking on a sensitive spot on her neck.
 
“What will you be doing in the mean time?” Hermione asked, curious despite the
sensuous distraction.
 
“I can’t promise to sit around and do nothing, little witch, though my oath to
you stands. Some of my devoted followers remain in Azkaban and I would like for
them to be reunited with their families.” Voldemort nipped at her ear.
 
“And kneeling at your feet as well, I expect.” Hermione giggled.
 
“You see right through me, little witch.” Voldemort nuzzled her neck, licking
and sucking. Hermione let out a slight moan.
 
“Promise me you will leave Harry alone. I— I will find a way to subvert the
prophecy,” Hermione whispered breathily.
 
“As long as I am not provoked. I will defend myself, Hermione.” Voldemort drew
back and looked at her with his burning red eyes.
 
“I expect no less, my Enlil. Do what ye will, I do not seek to control you. I
ask that you give me time,” Hermione responded. A slow smile spread across
Voldemort’s face and he kissed her fiercely again, thankful that he took
Salazar Slytherin’s advice and pledged his fealty to her.
 
“Write to me,” Hermione said as she extricated herself from his grasp to create
the portkey. Rummaging in her pocket she found her DA galleon and enchanted it
with their destination with a quiet ‘ Portus. ’
 
“I will, and we will continue our conversation from last night. I am very
interested to hear what you and your companions are teaching yourselves in the
Room of Requirement. I always found it’s iteration of everything lost in the
school to be quite interesting. You never know what you’ll find in there,
particularly books.” Voldemort leaned back against a chair, studying her face
and kiss-swollen lips. Hermione looked into his smoldering eyes.
 
“We will meet again, soon. I promise.” Hermione leaned over and kissed him
deeply one last time as Ginny and Luna came into the room, escorted by Snape.
Ginny whistled and Snape looked peaky again. He couldn’t quite comprehend the
Dark Lord as a sexual being, particularly in his new body.
 
“Thank you for your exquisite company last night, my dears. It was
enlightening. I do hope we meet again in auspicious circumstances.” Voldemort
nodded at the girls.
 
“We were pleased to have been your guests, my Lord.  Khaîre *.” Hermione
responded, a curve of a smile lighting up her face as she, Ginny and Luna took
hold of the galleon portkey that whisked them away.
 
 
The rest of the girls winter break in Greece was wonderful, and their story of
having a mixup at the ministry with their portkey was accepted without
question. The three young witches enjoyed Saturnalia with the Deo clan, and
were pleased to learn from them directly some of the earth magic that was
particular to the Deo mages. One of the elders was thrilled to find out that
Salazar Slytherin’s memories lived on in a portrait. Her own great grandmother
had told her stories of a English wand waver with striking eyes that shared
much knowledge with the clan. She was pleased that the portrait instructed the
girls despite shying away from contact with most others.
 
When not celebrating Saturnalia or studying with the Deo clan, Hermione, Ginny,
and Luna got around to telling their experiences of Saturnalia and discussing
them in detail. Ginny and Luna were still virgins, but had gotten up to some
heavy petting and sexual foreplay with their Potions Professor. They hoped in
the new year to perform their virgin blood rites preferably on one of the
solstices. Ginny and Luna congratulated Hermione on completing her own and
wanted to know every detail about what the Dark Lord was like in bed and what
it was really like to lose one’s virginity. They made plans to continue their
self-discovery sessions once back at Hogwarts, and to needle Snape to join them
for Salazar’s suggestion of a potions lesson. They also planned on exploring
the Room’s iteration with all of the lost things of Hogwarts.
 
Voldemort, conversely, found himself rather listless after Saturnalia. He would
have rather spent more time getting to know Hermione Granger. It frustrated and
annoyed him to no end, particularly when coupled with Salazar Slytherin’s
pestering questions. More than once he threatened to burn the frame, to which
Slytherin laughed, only to be shoved into a dark desk drawer. With no other
portraits in his study, Voldemort was able to get some peace. With little else
to take his mind off of things, the Dark Lord threw himself into planning the
breakout of his devoted followers from the wizarding prison Azkaban. It was a
fun exercise in logistics and strategy, which he suspected he’d share
eventually with Hermione when he could find a way to communicate securely with
her.
 
On his birthday, the 31st of December, Voldemort sent a short missive to
Hermione wishing her well in the new year and signing it from ‘Your Enlil.’ The
pet name had grown on him considerably since she’d departed, as he turned over
his memories with her fondly. Plaguing his nights however, was the same dream
over and over— of a door at the end of a long corridor, where he knew the
prophecy about himself and Potter was stored in the Department of Mysteries. It
was becoming maddening. Little did he know that Harry Potter was also plagued
with the dreams, and that he would seek the assistance of Headmaster Albus
Dumbledore. Or that his trusted spy, Severus Snape, would be assigned to teach
the boy Occlumency.
 
***** January *****
Chapter Summary
     A little plot building. It's necessary. Hooray for an awesome beta
     Havelocked!
Hermione was beyond thrilled to receive the short note from ‘Her Enlil’.
Saturnalia had ended with a large ceremony at the Temple of Saturn, and
Hermione had worn a laurel crown she’d crafted by hand, learning from her Deo
cousins. She placed an everlasting charm on the stasis spell she’d cast on it,
and sent the crown back with the owl that had brought her note, to let him know
that she was thinking of him as well. Plus the earthy smell reminded her of
their time in the grass during Saturnalia, so she had kept a small sprig of it
for herself as a keepsake.
Hermione, Ginny and Luna chose to activate their portkey back to the Ministry a
day early to do a bit of shopping in Diagon Alley before they had to catch the
Hogwarts Express back to school. Diana wished them all a fond farewell, and
pressed a discrete shopping list of some Earth magic ritual materials into
Hermione’s hand along with a crisp ten pound note. Their studying with the Deo
mages left the three witches with plenty to think about, and they were quite
excited to pick out supplies that the Room of Requirement couldn’t supply them.
 On the train ride back to Hogwarts, Luna, Ginny and Hermione were discussing
particulars of some of the herbal remedies the Deo clan had taught them when
their compartment door slid open. None other than Draco Malfoy slipped in and
shut it tightly behind him, looking a bit sheepish.
 “Here, Granger. I guess you left this in my father’s possession during
Saturnalia. He wanted you to have it back with his sincerest apologies.” Draco
held out Hermione’s charmed flask, which she had completely forgotten about.
 “Oh! Thanks, Malfoy. That was, um, kind of your father,” she said.
 “Yeah, especially the part about apologizing for kidnapping us,” Ginny
sniggered. Hermione elbowed her in the ribs and Ginny gave out a squeal of
pain.
 “He… no, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know about any of it. Really I
don’t. I was asked to apologize by my father, and I did just that even though
I’m not a bloody owl. I really don’t want to know what actually happened over
Saturnalia.” Draco held up his hands in protest.
 “Are you sure, Draco? Because we had an awfully good time with—“ Luna began.
 “Nope! Don’t want to know! Father says he’s sorry to the lot of you. I best be
off, need to go find Theo and Blaise.” Draco backed up in horror, trying to
unlock and slide open the compartment door in haste and failing.
 “Severus. He and Voldemort are both very well—“ Luna continued as Draco
jiggled the door in frustration, finally getting it open.
 “Endowed,” Luna called after him as he slammed the the door shut, making it
bounce back open a few inches. Luna looked at her friends and the three of them
dissolved in giggles.
 “Really Luna, I think you scarred the boy for life!” Hermione wheezed out
between laughs.
 “I can’t say I’m sorry!” Luna grinned, the other two nodding in agreement,
before drying the tears of laughter from their eyes and continuing their herbal
remedy discussion. The rest of the week, however, Draco Malfoy could not look
at any of them nor his godfather Severus Snape in the eye without blushing.
“What’s gotten into Malfoy, d’yathink?” Ron asked at dinner a couple days
later.
“What?” Hermione asked, looking up from the book she was reading.
“Malfoy. Something’s up with him. He keeps blushing. It’s weird,” Harry
answered.
“Oh. I hadn’t noticed.” Hermione smiled faintly, though it was a complete lie.
She, Luna and Ginny had taken to trying to make eye contact as often as
possible with Malfoy to get him to blush on purpose. To them, it was absolutely
hilarious.
“Mmm. You’ve been weird since you came back from Greece,” Ron decided,
continuing to plunder his plate.
“How so?” Hermione asked, slightly irritated and snapping her book shut.
“Well, like that. And you don’t listen to us anymore. It’s like you’re on
another planet,” Ron complained. Hermione sighed in exasperation.
“It’s nothing, Ronald. Really. I’m just trying to catch up on reading I didn’t
do over the holiday with my family,” Hermione lied. She was reading a book the
Room had given her on advanced warding techniques 
“Why are you giving her such a hard time, Ron? Hermione reads all the time
anyways,” Ginny interjected at her brother.
“Oh, like you’re one to talk. You went with her,” Ron snapped.
“Is that what this is about? Because we went to Greece and you didn’t? I’m
sorry, Ron, but I told you already how my parents wouldn’t have approved.”
Hermione sighed again.
“But you’ve spent summers with us!” Ron said.
“That wasn’t under their supervision, and they knew there would be plenty of
adults around. We’re getting older Ron. What was fine two years ago isn’t
necessarily fine now,” Hermione tried to explain. 
“What is that supposed to mean?” Ron asked bitterly.
“Really Ron? She’s talking about puberty.” Ginny rolled her eyes.
“How is that supposed to matter?” Ron insisted.
“Because Hermione’s a girl and you and Harry are boys. Obviously.” Ginny
huffed. “Just because you haven’t noticed it, doesn’t mean no one else has.”
“I’m not even going to have this conversation. Again. Ginny, I’ll see you
later.” Hermione grabbed her things and walked out of the hall, leaving a
grumbling Ron and a very amused Harry behind, who had watched the proceedings
trying not to laugh. Ron was his best friend, but he was pretty thick most of
the time. Harry completely understood that Hermione had reached an age where
her parents were uncomfortable with her spending all of her free time with
boys.
It wasn’t for several more days that Harry was able to catch Hermione alone,
after a DA practice. Ron was being difficult and not wanting to talk to
Hermione, whereas Hermione wasn’t interested in dealing with his petty
jealousy. Harry wanted to tell Hermione about the odd dreams about the corridor
with the locked door and get her opinion. His first Occlumency session with
Snape had gone horrifically, and Harry was hoping that perhaps Hermione had
read something on the topic and could help. Hermione always knew how and where
to research in the library to find answers. Maybe she’d assist him in the
library to help him with closing his mind, Harry hoped.
“Hey, er, Hermione. Good work today for the DA. I was wondering if we could,
you know, chat a bit?” Harry asked Hermione after everyone had left as
innocuously as possible, in groups of two and three spaced apart.
“Sure Harry, what’s up?” Hermione brushed a stray curl from her forehead and
looked at one of her best friends. No matter what happened, Hermione always
felt that Harry was like a brother to her, solid and true no matter Ron’s
temperamental personality and his mood swings. Harry felt similarly about
Hermione; she was the sister he never had and was always there for him even if
she didn’t always agree with him. He felt his friendship with Hermione was of
the ilk that Sirius talked about with his father— they might as well be family
because no matter what, they were just there for each other come hell or high
water.
“I was wondering if you’d read or knew where to start looking for books in the
library on Occlumency.” Harry shuffled his feet a bit, feeling a bit
embarrassed. 
“Well, yes, I mean, it’s not exactly something you can learn from a book but I
have read about it. Why don’t we come back in here after everyone has left—
sometimes the Room turns itself into a library for me when I need a quiet place
to study and the library is full.” Hermione smiled genuinely.
“Though, why are you studying Occlumency? I know you, Harry James Potter, and
you don’t study obscure branches of magic for fun.” Hermione raised an eyebrow
at him, suppressing a laugh.
“You caught me.” Harry gave her a lopsided grin. “Dumbledore is having Snape
give me Occlumency lessons because I keep having these weird dreams. He thinks
I might be linked to Voldemort, and sometimes— this sounds so bloody weird— I
swear I can feel his moods.”
“Why isn’t Dumbledore teaching you himself? It just seems so odd that he’d have
Professor Snape tutor you, though I’m sure he’s a very good Occlumens if
recommended…” Hermione caught herself before letting anything slip about
Severus.
“I don’t know, to be honest. And it’s really hard because Snape hates me, like
he hated my dad.” Harry kicked the floor nervously.
“I’m sure, Harry, that’s not the case. Professor Snape is just… difficult.
Surly even. But I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.” Hermione rested her hand on
Harry’s arm.
“It sure doesn’t feel that way. C’mon, it’s our turn to leave, we can go out
and then come back in to turn the room into your library,” Harry said dully.
“Harry, whatever happens— remember I’m always here for you, yeah? We’re best
friends, you’re like my brother. I’ll help you learn, and maybe together we can
get it.” Hermione smiled brightly at him while they slipped out the door.
Hermione paced by the door and asked the Room for a library setting with books
on Occlumency. Walking back in, Hermione was slightly disappointed that the
portrait where the founders usually talked to her, Ginny and Luna from wasn’t
there. But it was for the best, Hermione reasoned. She hadn’t told Harry yet
about any of her experiences this year. And after Saturnalia, it seemed most
unwise until she could do anything to supersede the prophecy tying Harry and
Voldemort together.
“That’d be brilliant, Hermione. I could use all the extra help. I don’t even
know how I’m supposed to empty my mind before bed.” Harry sighed, happy for
Hermione’s help but depressed with his situation.
“What are the dreams about, if you don’t mind me asking?” Hermione probed
lightly, hoping that the insight would help her figure out how her lover and
her de-facto brother were connected.
“It’s always the same or very similar. It’s a long corridor. I swear I’ve seen
a place like it before but I just can’t remember. And then it’s always got a
locked door at the end. Sometimes I see this white ball filled with smoke,
about the size of a muggle tennis ball,” Harry said thoughtfully, while he slid
into a comfortable chair and Hermione flitted about the bookshelves in the
Room, plucking a few references on self-trance techniques and Occlumency.
“I think these should help. Have you ever tried meditating before, Harry? You
know, like muggles do?” Hermione placed the stack of books on the table next to
Harry’s chair.
“No, I haven’t. Should I?” Harry asked, bewildered on the change of subject. 
“Well, when I wanted to learn Occlumency, I read about it a bit. And that whole
emptying your mind— I mean, I thought it was ridiculous and impossible—“
Hermione’s explanation was interrupted by Harry snorting in laughing assent.
Hermione gave him a look before continuing.
“Like I said, I thought it was impossible but muggles do it all the time with
meditation. So I have a book back in my room on muggle meditation techniques my
mum sent me. It was really helpful. Focusing on your breathing is a good way to
start emptying your mind,” Hermione said helpfully.
“Huh, I never would have thought of that at all, Hermione.” Harry looked
thoughtfully at the books.
“There may be a reason I’m told I’m clever a lot.” Hermione stuck out her
tongue at Harry, who laughed.
“And terribly modest about it!” He joked. 
“Well it’s that or think I’m a know-it-all, and I’d rather think I’m clever,”
Hermione giggled.
“You are clever, and an amazing witch. I probably don’t tell you enough. You
help us all the time and I appreciate it a lot. But it’s not the only reason
I’m friends with you.” Harry grinned.
“Is it my good looks? I knew this hair must be good for something!” Hermione
laughed and Harry joined in.
“Yes, Hermione. I’m friends with you because your hair is the only one that
puts mine to shame.” Harry rolled his eyes.
They spent the next hour taking notes from various books and compiling tips and
techniques that Harry could try, while Hermione was keeping a second set of
notes on warding and how to go about practicing setting up wards. She wasn’t
sure if it’d be useful for the DA to tackle as a whole, but it was something
that she felt should be in her arsenal of spellwork.
 
It wasn’t far into January before the news broke that a mass breakout from
Azkaban had happened and 10 notorious Death Eaters were now free. Hermione felt
rather guilty about it, especially seeing Neville’s face as he stared horror-
struck at the paper. Someone— a Slytherin no doubt— later spread a story that
Neville’s parents were tortured to insanity by some of those Death Eaters.
Neville only confirmed the story with a short nod and a whispered “Lestranges”
that Hermione would have missed had she not been paying extra close attention
to him. She began to really feel conflicted then, and unsure who she could even
confide in about it. After three days of her guilt gnawing at her to the point
where Hermione was having problems eating, Luna and Ginny pulled Hermione into
the Room in their haven with the portrait of the Founders to talk.
 “I just— I feel so guilty about Saturnalia and continuing to keep in touch
with him when he’s done so many evil things. I mean, Neville’s face when he saw
the paper about the breakout. I can’t even imagine Harry’s if I told him I
fucked the man who killed his parents.” Hermione’s pent up guilt and
frustration was pouring out of her rapidly, tears falling and soaking her
jumper sleeve as she tried to wipe her eyes. 
“Well, Hermione, he is the Dark Lord. It’s rather implied in the title,” Ginny
said, hesitantly.
“Oh I knew it logically. And at the time I could only think about how powerful
he was. I never thought much about auras until I was in his presence. His aura
just exudes power and it’s intoxicating,” Hermione sniffled, trying to stop the
flow of tears.
“Hermione, it’s okay to be with someone even if they do bad things to others.
The important thing is that he hasn’t hurt you,” Luna attempted to make the
best of things. 
“He hasn’t hurt me personally, but Harry’s like my brother. He never got to
know his parents and had to live with his horrid aunt and uncle because of the
Dark Lord!” Hermione wailed.
“Now Sweetling, if you permit me to interrupt—“ Salazar Slytherin began, the
only Founder who ventured into the room with a crying Hermione over
relationships. The Founders agreed that since it was Salazar’s heir, he had to
be the one to talk to her. The others would be biased against Voldemort,
whereas Salazar was the only one who could conceive of being impartial.
“What is it, Sal?” Hermione asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice. 
“You can’t blame yourself for a past that has nothing to do with you. And from
what I’ve gathered around the castle and the whispers in the staff room, the
Longbottoms were tortured after my heir’s downfall,” Salazar responded. 
“If you take all the hurts of the world onto yourself, you will never be happy,
Sweetling. Let the others bear their own issues; you have plenty of your own as
a Deo. You’re growing very powerful, and you’ve made quite an undertaking in
attempting to bridge the gap between the perceived Light and Dark. People will
be hurt and upset with your choices no matter what you decide— do not let them
influence what you do. Do what feels right and natural to you,” Salazar
continued sagely. Hermione sniffled, her tears slowing.
“Talking with him, he becomes my Enlil. It’s like he’s a different man from the
Dark Lord. He swore his fealty to me on his spirit. It took me awhile to puzzle
that out. Why not on his blood? And I realized, his first body died but his
spirit endured. Throughout everything that he has done his spirit endured. He
made the most enduring oath he could to me, and then we completed my blood
rite,” Hermione spoke, half to her companions, but mostly to herself to try to
puzzle out her own thoughts.
“Perhaps the influence of a Deo witch is what he needed?” Ginny interjected,
her voice lilting into a question rather than a statement.
“It seems plausible.” Luna nodded.
“I don’t want to control him, or change him. I don’t want that responsibility,”
Hermione said glumly.
“His actions are not your responsibility, Sweetling, regardless if he is your
consort or your concubine,” Salazar answered pointedly, drawing a watery laugh
from Hermione at the thought of Lord Voldemort as her concubine.
“But others will judge me for it, regardless. I knew the breakout was going to
happen and I didn’t tell anyone,” Hermione said regretfully.
“Nobody could have done anything to stop it, except make it harder and perhaps
get people killed in the process. Some things just can’t be changed.” Luna
shrugged.
“She’s right, it wouldn’t have done much good, except cost lives if anyone even
believed you. The ministry and Prophet are blaming Sirius, and have been trying
for months and months to discredit Harry.” Ginny sank back in her chair,
depressed.
“You guys are right; it probably wouldn’t have helped but I still feel guilty
about not even trying to say or do anything.” Hermione twisted her hands in her
lap.
“Sweetling, there will come a time when the best course of action for you will
be to not make any action at all. It is a very hard lesson to learn,” Salazar
sympathized.
“Aside from Severus, I don’t think there’s anyone that I could have told that I
would have trusted with the information. Dumbledore is too secretive and caught
up in the whole Good versus Evil saga, as well as forcing a prophecy to come to
pass through Harry. And everyone else I would have previously trusted filters
through Dumbledore. I can’t help it but I do not trust him,” Hermione fretted.
Ginny and Luna nodded in agreement.
“Trust yourself, Sweetling. You are a Deo witch— your instincts are keener than
most,” Salazar recommended.
 
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     Notes/Summary: I waffled a bit on including Hermione/Snape and then
     this popped into my head so… yeah. Explicit.
“Detention Miss Granger! I  distinctly  told you to not help Longbottom with
fixing his botched potion!” Severus Snape growled across his classroom. He
swore the cheeky little witch was doing things on purpose to aggravate him.
“Yes sir.” The cheeky witch in question tried to sound dull and depressed. It
almost came out sounding angry, which also suited her needs. She needed a
detention with Snape to have him pass along a message for her she didn’t
otherwise really know how to send.
“You will stay after class to arrange your detention, Miss Granger,” Snape said
menacingly, with more than a decade of practice under his belt. He disliked
being angry at her, but today Hermione Granger seemed to just be purposefully
pushing his buttons.
Once the students had filtered out, and Harry gave her a supportive pat on the
shoulder, Hermione approached Snape’s desk.
“When shall I attend detention,  sir ?” Hermione asked graciously, a curve of a
smile sneaking through.
“Keep up that attitude and you’ll be serving your detention with Filch,”
Severus growled again, annoyed with her.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. When would you like me?” Hermione asked with more
innocence in her voice, as if she were a second year. Severus gulped at her
choice of words. Not her too— Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood were becoming more
difficult to hold at arm’s length. They seemed exceptionally interested in
breaking his moral code as a teacher. No formal rules were in place at the
school, but it was an unspoken rule to not engage with the students. 
“This evening at 8pm. You are smart enough to be grading essays of the younger
years,” Snape replied, marshaling himself. Hermione gave a short laugh.
“I could be revising my own year, and probably some of the advanced classes as
well,” Hermione gloated. 
“Yes, however appearances are important. Hurry along to your next class. I
don’t want to have to write you a note for being late.” Snape dismissed her
with a wave of his hand. Hermione scurried off, not bothering to tell him she
had a free period before dinner. She had a letter to perfect and some reviewing
she wanted to do before her detention.  
At 8pm precisely, Hermione knocked on the Potions classroom door before going
in. Snape was at his desk and waved her over with a hand, not bothering to look
up. Hermione grinned. 
She shut the door tightly behind her, and set to warding the door with various
spells she’d been wanting to practice and get right. After about 8 layers of
wards, she threw up a silencing charm for good measure as Severus looked up at
her, startled and asked her what the hell she was doing. 
“Oh, I just wanted to practice some spells that I’d only learned in theory. I
think they worked quite well, but Luna and Ginny will stroll by in 10 minutes
and let me know later.
“I see.” Snape sat back in his chair uneasily. “I assume this room of yours was
unfit for this practice?”
“Quite. It’s own protective charms and spells make the warding spells I wanted
to try quite impossible. If they work correctly, the door shouldn’t even appear
to passersby, hence Luna and Ginny taking a stroll in the dungeons in a few
minutes,” Hermione explained, walking up towards the desk where her professor
sat and boldly taking a seat on the corner nearest him.
“Miss Granger, I really don’t think—“ Snape spluttered, attempting to rise
before Hermione spelled him into the chair.
“I need to beg a favor, Severus,” Hermione stated, her face neutral.
“I can’t see how this is appropriate,” Snape stammered, growing warier by the
moment, stuck to his chair with a very forward and strong witch who had clearly
started coming into her own as a Deo. The girl would have been powerful even
before her rite with the Dark Lord Snape thought moodily.
“Stop acting like you are my professor and remember who you pledged to yourself
to— me, by the way. And as far as I can tell, a pledge to a Deo supersedes
others.” Hermione smirked. 
“Fine. Hermione, my Lady, what is it that you need from me?” Snape ground out,
now vaguely annoyed. 
“Dispense with the titles, I’m just Hermione. I need you to deliver this to the
Dark Lord. I can’t use the school owls obviously and I don’t want to know where
he currently resides nor have a post owl from Hogsmeade traced. I can’t borrow
my friends’ owls for the same reason. I will personally repay you for this
favor.” Hermione set an envelope on the desk, addressed solely to ‘My Enlil.’
Snape looked at it for a moment. 
“Yes,  Mistress . I can get him the letter without trace or suspicion,” Snape
replied with snark. “All of this really wasn’t needed if you wanted a letter
sent.”
“Oh, but I didn’t want to arouse suspicion and I do need to repay this favor.
Luna and Ginny were quite descriptive about their Saturnalia after we parted
ways. I have to admit, there is something else I would like to practice, and I
thought you might be amenable to accepting.” Hermione smiled mischievously.
Severus paled, visibly. 
“I value my life, Hermione. Do not ask—“ Severus began but Hermione pressed a
finger to his lips, noting how soft they were. 
“He pledged his spirit in fealty to me, Severus. You have nothing to fear from
him. Besides, I wouldn’t want to disappoint my Enlil… I doubt he is waiting
around for me, and frankly, I can do what I please. He’s pledged to me, not the
other way around. So, protector, will you allow me this? In return for this
favor I am asking?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrow and trying not to
smirk. Severus was quietly pondering his options. He did not want to engage
with a student, but she’d warded the door and subverted the whole situation
entirely. 
“Yes, Deo witch. Hermione. I submit myself to you.” Severus’s voice cracked a
bit, thinking of what possible things that could come to pass in the next hour
or so, the supposed duration of her detention.
“Excellent.” Hermione grinned and hopped off the corner of the desk, standing
before him. She slipped off her bulky black school robe and revealed an ivory
chemise that left little to the imagination. Severus gulped, feeling himself
grow hard at the sight of her young body, subtle curves flaring sensuously
under the silky fabric. The chill of the dungeon classroom made her nipples
stand out proudly and he wanted nothing more than to taste them. 
“I thought this might set you more at ease, Severus. To remember who I really
am.” Hermione smiled slyly, taking in the flush that came to his cheeks, the
tightness in his trousers, and the way he wet his lips in unconscious
anticipation. 
She drew closer to him, standing right before his chair before she knelt,
placing her hands on his thighs and caressing them. His erection began really
straining at his trousers, his teaching robes having been tossed over the back
of his chair already. 
“I’m glad you want this as much as I do, Severus,” Hermione purred, her hands
moving towards his hardened crotch, applying a slight amount of pressure as she
massaged it. Severus couldn’t help but groan in want and need. He was still
stuck to his chair, otherwise he would have thread his fingers through that
riot of curls upon her head. 
“Do tell me what you like, I don’t want to disappoint,” Hermione said as she
slowly unbuttoned his fly, enjoying the slow and sensuous torture on him. 
“Witch, I want nothing more than for you to fuck me with your mouth, but I
suspect you will be practicing more technique than is actually necessary to
accomplish the task,” Severus growled, his deep voice gravelly with desire. 
“Hmm, yes. That will likely be the case. However your… feedback… is
appreciated.” Hermione smirked, looking up at him with her enticing eyes that
always managed to look so innocent, like the doe of his Patronus.  
She freed him, the temporary release against the strain of fabric agonizingly
short, as she took him in her small hands. His erection was just as impressive
as Luna and Ginny had described, but she was personally more attracted to the
god-like phallus that completed her virgin blood rite. Severus was human, and
his penis was pink and veined, causing an almost purple sheen with a
deliciously large head. Hermione licked it tentatively, as she worked him with
her hands, in the same manner that the Dark Lord had moved their hands together
during Saturnalia. The thought of it was enough for her to start becoming wet,
especially as Severus moaned despite biting his lip against it. 
Hermione swirled her tongue experimentally, gaining another soft moan. The
taste wasn’t bad— it wasn’t terribly different from skin after sex, which she
was familiar with. The pre-cum was saltier than his velvety length, but she
paid little mind to it. She wanted to perfect this and wasn’t likely to get
another shot at it without lowering herself to the student body of Hogwarts.
Severus ground his teeth at his lack of control in the situation. He was
completely at Hermione’s mercy as she began to lick his length and suck more
earnestly, small groans and moans of appreciation slipping out. She’d yet to
even take him fully into her mouth and he was definitely at least halfway
there. Slowly, almost timidly, Hermione opened her mouth wide to swallow him—
Luna’s advice ringing in her ears. Keeping a light suction, she bobbed her head
slowly at first, and picked up the pace with his panting breath. 
“Oh, oh Sweet Circe— I’m, I’m almost there— fuck—  Hermione!” Severus moaned as
Hermione’s quick pace and luscious mouth and relentless attention brought him
to completion. Her nervousness on the taste of his cum was dispelled, realizing
it was just incredibly salty and the fastest way to get rid of it was to simply
swallow. And swallow she did, every last bit, before licking his sensitive dick
clean. 
Hermione grinned up at Severus, his head thrown back in pleasure and release.
He looked down at her with awe. What a magnificent witch. 
“I’m so glad you enjoyed that,” Hermione said, lifting the sticking charm from
the chair as she stood. A small wet spot had formed on her dress, where her
slick slit had pressed on it while she knelt. Severus, busy tucking himself
back into his trousers, noticed it directly in front of him, and his hand shot
out to stop her as she made to turn to pick up her robes. 
“Oh no, Hermione. I must beg a favor of you now— I couldn’t possibly let you
walk away after that, with your dress so.” Severus’s eyes glittered and
Hermione raised a brow, before blushing when she realized she’d dampened her
dress with her enjoyment. 
“What—?” Hermione began as Severus swiftly pushed her onto the desk in front of
him, pulling up her skirt. 
“A favor, Hermione. Please do not deny me this, not now.” Severus had a boyish
grin on his face, lighting it up and making him look much younger, closer to
his actual age. 
“I could be persuaded.” Hermione smiled, setting her hands down to balance
herself when Severus used his own wandless sticking charm on them, pulling her
exposed center to the edge of the desk towards him. She hadn’t worn panties and
the thought of that made his mouth water. The Dark Lord had mentioned— several
times actually— how delectable Hermione had been, especially given that he’d
only had her for an evening of pleasure. Now it was Severus’s turn for a
taste. 
Hermione expressed a minor noise of dissatisfaction when she realized she
couldn’t move her hands. Severus merely smirked at her and pressed his palms on
the insides of her knees, putting her on full display. Hermione was torn
between blushing at being so exposed and pleased that Severus looked like she
was a Saturnalia feast. 
He used another sticking charm on her now, so that he could continue unimpeded.
Hermione wriggled a bit, but he merely tutted at her. Severus drew his long
fingers, calloused  from years of potions making, gently down her thighs making
Hermione quiver. She supposed she deserved this treatment after her own favor
to him. It was maddening not to be able to move! 
Closer and closer his finger tips moved towards her center, drawing small
circles here and there to prolong the tension. Hermione was absolutely
quivering with anticipation, her already wet core starting to leak. As
tentative as she had been, Severus finally leaned forward and licked her
leaking lips, delighting in her sweetness. He thought she tasted how she
looked— sweet and innocent. As his fingers and lips descending on her, teasing
and caressing, Severus thought about how brilliantly lucky he’d been to
discover her as more than a student. She would be a powerful sorceress and she
was just coming into her own; a time when he felt privileged to be near her,
let alone touch her. 
Hermione cried out softly as Severus lapped away at her, his tongue exploring
her and while his fingers gently teased her clit relentlessly. She could feel
that delicious pressure building low inside her, the very center of her being
flaring with heat and desire. She unconsciously began to rock as much as she
could, the sticking charms being eroded by the flaring of her magic and desire
in the throes of her passion. Severus couldn’t take the time to marvel at her
magnificence while he plundered her, fingers moving from clit to her tight
passage, crooking to stroke her sensitive g-spot. His tongue massaged her clit,
drawing out her keening. Without mercy he brought her to completion, a gasp and
drawn out moan, Hermione’s head resting on her panting chest.
Severus gently removed his fingers from her, cleaning each one before returning
his attention to her and licking her clean as gently as he could, her shudders
of ecstasy stroking his pride. He leaned back, putting his hands behind his
head, noticing that his sticking charms had been completely undone by Hermione
when she came undone. She was a powerful and magnificent witch, he thought
proudly. 
Hermione slid off his desk, her skirt falling into place as her feet hit the
floor.
“Thank you, Severus. I appreciated your favor very much,” Hermione whispered as
she kissed him softly for the erotic thrill of tasting herself on his lips and
tongue.
“You are quite welcome. It was my pleasure.” Severus smirked as Hermione
stepped away and tugged on her school robe, putting back into place the
barriers that came with appearances. 
“Have I fulfilled my detention, sir?” Hermione asked, once her robe was in
place and she looked much more like the schoolgirl she should be.
“Yes, yes you have. And don’t think you can do this every time you have
detention, you cheeky little witch.” Severus grinned before narrowing his eyes
at her.
“Oh, I knew this was probably my only chance,” Hermione said as she walked
towards the door, dispelling the wards with decisive slashes of her wand.
“However, you may end up having Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley in detention in
the future. It was my impression each wanted a word with you… privately.”
Hermione giggled as she lifted the silencing charm, leaving a gobsmacked
Severus Snape at his desk, letter for the Dark Lord staring up at him. Perhaps
it wasn’t so bad to be Severus Snape right now. He’d certainly paid his dues
over the years to both the light and dark sides.
Hermione hummed to herself as she left the dungeons. Luna and Ginny found her
on the second floor.
“So?” Ginny asked excitedly.
“You were right. I owe you two galleons.” Hermione smirked.
“And you owe me three!” Luna grinned, nudging Hermione.
“You know I do. I would say I am jealous of your Saturnalia, but I happened to
have had an exceptional one myself. It was quite enjoyable. And,” Hermione
paused, “I told him as I was leaving that he might be seeing each of you in
detention shortly.”
“You’re a witch’s best friend, Hermione. I love you,” Ginny squealed as she
hugged Hermione, Luna joining in— the three of them giggling uncontrollably.
“C’mon. Let’s use the prefect’s bath. I probably smell right now and I do not
want to get caught like this!” Hermione tugged her friends towards the large
bath on the fifth floor that Hermione had gained access to that year. The girls
had bathed together in Greece, stripping away any last barriers between each
other. They were companions and compatriots, a triad of witches with Hermione
as their leader. Who knew what they’d be able to accomplish together when the
time was right.
***** Fate Bound *****
Chapter Notes
     Huge awesome thanks to my beta Havelocked! She's been editing
     everything with remarkable turnaround. *round of applause*
“Ugh, I am never making a bet with either of you again, especially concerning
Severus. I’ll go broke!” Hermione grumbled digging through her bag that Ginny
had been holding onto for her during her detention.
“I told you the detention scheme would work,” Ginny announced triumphantly.
“And you wouldn’t believe me when I said he wouldn’t let you go without giving
you something in return. Severus is a giver, not a taker,” Luna reminded.
“I know, but I shouldn’t have bet on it,” Hermione put the designated galleons
into their waiting hands.
“We’re only going to spend it at the apothecary for more supplies, so it’s not
like you’re really losing out. We’ve got the Vernal Equinox to plan, and I’d
really like to try a rite in the glade you did your Samhain ritual.” Luna
smiled serenely as they entered the Prefect’s Bath.
“We do have a bit of time before the Vernal Equinox and I was hoping…” Hermione
bit her lip.
“You were hoping You-Know-Who would want to get down and dirty with you again?”
Ginny giggled, testing out some of the different taps in the tub while Hermione
warded the door.
“Your wards during your detention were excellent, Hermione. It was
exceptionally difficult to look at the door to Severus’s classroom. But it was
definitely there and not invisible,” Luna mentioned. Hermione paused in her
warding.
“Hmm. Well, I guess that works well in the castle, but I really want a place to
be unseen once I ward it. Maybe I need to try outside of the castle? But then I
have to wait until September when I’m 17,” Hermione groaned and finished her
warding.
“I wonder if Fred and George know— I mean they’ve apparently been inventing
things for such a long time and they must have used their wands while underage
at home,” Ginny mused.
“I should ask them. Also, we need to do something about Harry. I’m worried,”
Hermione stated as she slipped into the now full bath, scented with lavender
and lots of bubbles thanks to Ginny. The other girls finished undressing and
followed her in.
“Oh, this is heaven!” Ginny purred, luxuriating in the warm bath that was the
size of a small swimming pool. It was much larger than the hot spring they’d
bathed in while in Greece.
“You know,” Luna said, “Daddy could publish something in the quibbler to get
his story out.”
“I think that’s…” Hermione paused. “Luna, that is a brilliant idea. Rita
Skeeter happens to owe me a favor—  not like that! — and I’m sure she’ll write
the article.”
Ginny was giggling. “I know you wouldn’t go near Skeeter. It was just funny
given the favors you just exchanged with Severus!”
“You’re just jealous that I managed to get him to do anything in his classroom,
on his desk,” Hermione said with fake crossness.
“You mean he ate you out on his desk?!” Ginny squealed. “That’s my top fantasy
since Saturnalia. Maybe…” 
“I think you might just have to earn yourself a detention from him, Miss
Weasley. I told him to expect you. If I were you I would learn some wards first
or at the very least throw up a double layer of notice-me-not charms and a
thorough silencing charm,” Hermione grinned.
“I just want him to agree to my virginal blood rite. I can’t imagine anyone
else…” Luna pouted. 
“You might have a harder time with that. But, if the lot of us can meet up for
the Vernal Equinox someplace other than Hogwarts… You probably have a better
chance,” Hermione pondered. 
“Which works excellently with your plan to bed old Voldie again. I don’t know
what you see in him, Hermione,” Ginny commented. 
“He’s just… I don’t know. His presence is intoxicating. Like you were saying
about auras, Luna— his just exudes this power and it calls to me.” Hermione
shrugged.
“I wonder if Helga knows more about auras. I’ve never heard of someone’s magic
or aura calling to another.” Luna cocked her head to the side.
“Well, we have DA on Thursday, our next session on Friday, and then I’ll see if
Skeeter will meet with me in Hogsmeade on Saturday about that article— Luna,
would you join us as a representative of the Quibbler? I’m sure I can convince
Harry to do it by then,” Hermione said confidently.
“Oi! What about me?” Ginny thrust out her lower lip and made it tremble quite
convincingly. 
“I would say it’d be an excellent day for a  Saturday detention ,” Hermione
sniggered as Ginny’s eyes went wide as saucers.
“Yes, yes, I think it would be. I’ll see if I can sneak something off of Fred
and George,” Ginny grinned, laying back in the bath.
 
As it turned out, Ginny didn’t need to steal from her brothers at all— instead,
they supplied her with a full arsenal of prank items since her target was
Snape. Little did they know what their little sister was truly planning. And
said plan went off without a hitch: a firework lobbed into a cauldron while
making eye contact with Snape who couldn’t believe what he was seeing, nor the
quickness of her quidditch honed reflexes.
“DETENTION, MISS WEASLEY!” Snape bellowed, despite being covered head to toe in
 Draught of Peace. He was seething that the little trio of witches had decided
that pissing him off and getting detention was the best way to get him alone.
He did have office hours clearly posted.
“I should make you serve with Filch for that stunt, Miss Weasley,” Snape
growled later as he held her after class to arrange her detention. 
“Oh, sir, I promise I’ll make it up to you all day on Saturday,” Ginny
responded trying to look as innocent as possible.
“You had better.” Snape looked down his long nose at her, the potion he’d been
dosed with having a much stronger hold on him than he’d hoped. Ginny had been
quick with her wand and a ‘ Tergeo’  to clean off the potion, which had
mollified him even before the potion took full effect.
“Now, leave my sight and I do not want to see you until Saturday,” Snape
mumbled. He expected he’d be sleeping through dinner: even Pepper-Up wasn’t
going to be able to counter this much Draught of Peace. Thankfully, it was his
last class of the day. Ginny scampered off, and Snape stumbled back to his
quarters to sleep off the potion he’d been dosed with. At least, he reflected
as he tumbled into his bed, it would be a particularly good and restful sleep.
 
Saturday dawned cold and clear— a perfect day in Hermione’s opinion. She wasn’t
one for Valentine’s Day, and apparently Harry had a date no less, but he
promised to meet Hermione and Luna at the Hogshead afterwards though Hermione
didn’t think it was the best of ideas. She had wanted him to meet with her and
Rita before his date, but Harry was set in his ways. Hermione sighed and turned
over, surprised at an odd bundle on her bed.
“What is this?” Hermione asked herself quietly, opening the package wrapped in
brown paper.
A note fell out, as she removed a beautiful blue leather diary. The gilding on
the corners and the gold edges of the pages were amongst Hermione’s favorite
details for books. She took the note and read it, wondering who could have sent
her such a lovely gift.
 
“My Little Witch,
I regret the lack of communication prior to your letter— I immediately set to
work on rectifying the situation of us not being able to communicate without an
intermediary. I hope you like the diary, as it is linked to one I have. We can
communicate without the need for owls, no matter the distance or wards between
us. I didn’t want to purchase something pre-charmed; spelling it myself ensures
that we know that our communication is private. Once you offer a drop of your
blood, it will only open at your touch and readable by you, even if someone was
to look directly over your shoulder.
I look forward to seeing you again, and hope it will be soon. 
Your Enlil”
 
Hermione felt a thrill of pleasure race through her as she grabbed the book
again, feeling the magic that pulsed within it. Yes, it felt like his magic.
She grabbed her prefect pin from her side table and opened to the first page
that read in shining green ink:
To Hermione from your Enlil
Hermione stuck her thumb with the pin and allowed a fat drop of blood to drip
onto the page below the inscription, before sucking on the wound. The blood was
immediately absorbed into the pages, leaving no trace behind and the book
glowed slightly as the blood warding was completed. She was incredibly
flattered the Dark Lord would go through so much trouble just to talk to her.
As she held the book, feeling his magic resonate in it, a memory crossed her
mind. This book— Voldemort’s magic— it felt like the locket she’d picked up
when they were cleaning headquarters. The one Sirius said she could have, since
it was broken and no one could open it. It had felt fascinating in her hands
and she couldn’t say why she wanted the broken locket, but she couldn’t bring
herself to put it down either.  
Hermione went and rummaged in her trunk and found the locket in the velvet
beaded bag she’d put it into for safe keeping. She figured she’d eventually
charm the bag to hold more, but until then it could hold the beautiful locket.
She slipped the locket out of the bag and held it in her palm. She could feel
the pulsating magic in it, and it was much stronger than the book which she
knew a lot of magic and spellwork had gone into. Holding the locket she could
feel like he was there with her, if she closed her eyes. Opening them, she
looked at the locket again, before putting it on.
She’d have to ask the Founders about it, probably Sal. She’d forgotten to quiz
Helga last night about auras, though she was up early— Yes, she could go now to
see them quickly on her own. She wasn’t due at the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade
until 2pm, and her status as a prefect allowed for her to leave late, though
she was sure she could also smuggle herself through one of the secret passages
if needs must. Hermione threw on some casual clothing, and headed off towards
the Room of Requirement. It was fairly early in the morning for the students on
a weekend, just after 7 o’clock. She didn’t anticipate meeting anyone and she
did not. She paced quickly and entered her haven.
“Good morning, Hermione! Are Luna and Ginny joining you today?” Helga
Hufflepuff greeted her.
“It’s just me this morning. I realized I had some questions I forgot to ask you
last night. While I was talking with Luna and Ginny the other day, Ginny had
asked me— well she asked me what I saw in Sal’s heir.” Hermione paused at the
somewhat sour look that crept onto Helga’s face at the mention of Salazar’s
heir.
“Go on,” Helga urged Hermione.
“Well, I couldn’t quite explain it. A lot of it is how I feel when I’m in his
presence. It’s so intoxicating and the power calls to me. I never was
particularly into auras or anything, but I swear his magic is calling to mine,”
Hermione finished nervously, wondering what Helga’s response would be. Looking
at the portrait, she was surprised to see the woman deep in thought.
“Well it isn’t unheard of, for two magical beings to be bound to one another,”
Helga started.
“It was like this before he pledged his fealty to me, Helga. When I was first
in his presence, I wasn’t intimidated like I thought I would be. Instead I
found myself interested instead of repelled, given all I knew about him,”
Hermione added quickly.
“Like I said, it isn’t unheard of for two magical beings to be bound to each
other. Not by pledges or other bindings one may undertake in their lifetime,
but by fate. It seems like you are drawn to him because you are fated to be
near him. It has been equated with the notion of soulmates, but I’m not sure if
that is really the correct term. From what I believed and learned, and what Sal
learned when he was with the Deo clan, sometimes fate and destiny link two
beings so that events come to pass or objectives fulfilled. It doesn’t mean
that the souls are matched for one another, it’s more that their fates are
twined together at least for awhile. Some instances in history the fate-bound
found themselves free after specific events were achieved and so forth. I
believe that as the Founders of this school, the four of us had a fate bond
that drew us together to create this school,” Helga finished, a small smile
playing on her lips as she thought back to the early days of Hogwarts’
founding.
“Wow, that is fascinating. I wonder if Sal would know more from the Deo
perspective, having learned from them?” Hermione asked. Helga nodded quickly
and stepped out of the frame. It was more than 10 minutes before Helga returned
with a sleepy Salazar in tow. 
“Helga, I really wish you’d just tell me— Sweetling!” Salazar yawned widely
sitting at the table. Helga disappeared again and returned with steaming mugs
she must have procured from some other painting.
“Helga, you were always my favorite, you know that dear?” Salazar dropped a
kiss on her brow as he grabbed his mug.
“Sal, we know that’s only half true. You enjoyed the ladies too much to ever
have a true favorite,” Helga laughed.
“Oh, he still does. He enjoyed quite the Saturnalia at Malfoy Manor, didn’t he
tell you? Charmed a few of the portraits there.” Hermione grinned and Helga
laughed harder while Salazar blushed.
“Sweetling, it’s not very polite to talk of such things,” Salazar muttered into
his cup before nearly choking on his drink when he looked up at Hermione. 
“Sweetling, where on earth did you get my locket?” he demanded, standing up and
going right towards the frame.
“Oh, I wanted to ask you about this. It’s yours?” Hermione asked, confused. 
“Yes, I gave it to my wife upon the birth of our son. It had been in the Gaunt
family until my heir’s mother apparently sold it for a few measly galleons to
feed herself and still died at the orphanage where she gave birth to him,”
Salazar said darkly.
“That’s… that’s just awful.” Hermione sat heavily on a chair.
“So how did you come across the locket, Sweetling?” Salazar asked.
“It was in a house— I was staying at my friend’s godfather’s— I’m sorry I can’t
be more specific but there’s powerful enchantments protecting the residence. A
very old pureblood family lived there and my friend’s godfather is the end of
the line. He doesn’t know how the locket got there either. But I can feel
Voldemort’s magic in this. Much more strongly than than this book he enchanted
for me so we can communicate without trace or censure.” Hermione held up the
diary she’d been given that morning. 
“This diary has some distinctive spellwork, including a blood ward so that only
I can open it and only I can read from it, now that I’ve completed the ward
with a drop of my own blood. He doesn’t have that laying around, obviously,”
Hermione continued. 
“But this locket, this locket feels like him. Like he’s with me. I just put the
two together in my head this morning when he sent me the spelled journal. I had
to beg a favor from Severus to have a letter sent to him untraced earlier this
week,” Hermione pursed her lips.
“I see, Sweetling,” Salazar said, nodding. Helga looked rather uncomfortable
but sipped from her mug. 
“And… I guess the reason I wanted to talk to you this morning, aside from not
understanding why these two objects feel so differently with his magic in them,
is why I’m so drawn to him. Helga was saying that fate sometimes binds
individuals to each other so that certain events happen or objectives achieved.
And that you’d maybe know something about it from the Deo clan when you studied
with them.” Hermione shrugged.
“Oh Sweetling. This will be a different conversation than I anticipated,”
Salazar said, going back to the table and sitting down. Helga looked at him as
intrigued as Hermione was. 
“Sal, what do you mean?” Hermione asked.
“You remember my telling you that one of your ancestors studied with me more
than the others? That she said one of her granddaughters would pick up a wand
and reinstate my magic?” Salazar asked.
“Yes, it was our first conversation,” Hermione smiled.
“Well, as it felt like the right thing to do at the time, I promised my heir to
hers,” Salazar replied, his countenance turning to stone in anticipation of a
bad reaction.
“You promised your heir to me? All the way back then? So everything I feel…”
Hermione trailed off, conflicted and upset. 
“Nothing can truly replicate emotion. We make potions and spells that for a
time can mimic emotions, but nothing actually creates emotions, Hermione,”
Helga cut in quickly and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. 
“So I’m merely drawn to him, despite everything he’s done, because of Sal’s
promise to my ancestor,” Hermione surmised. 
“Yes. And I’m certain he feels a similar pull, but the fated bonds, like I told
you earlier, only pull you towards the person. It won’t cause any feelings or
emotions. I can’t say I very much liked Sal the first time I met him, but I did
feel the pull between all of us when we came together to build this school. We
were so very dissimilar, and had vastly different ideas on how to create a
school. It’s the work of fate that even got the place standing! Well, except
Godric and Sal. Those two were always thick as thieves.” Helga laughed her
lovely carefree laugh that set everyone at ease. 
“Does he know, Sal? Is that what you were telling Voldemort before I met him?”
Hermione asked, remembering. 
“He knows that I only promised my heir to the Deo’s descendant who would pick
up a wand. I told him it was you, and that if he wanted to continue living, he
shouldn’t make an enemy of you and instead become your protector. He felt that
formally swearing fealty was the way to do it and I did not disagree. When he
left the room, he had not made up his mind on what to do; I was informed later
that was when you two first met,” Salazar replied heavily. 
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Hermione wanted to know. 
“Because I didn’t want to frighten you, Sweetling. I wanted to talk some sense
into him before you two crossed paths and apparently I was only just in time as
it was. He had asked me why him, and I replied I had only said heir. I had no
idea who you would be, or who he would be. After he’d graduated Hogwarts I
hoped he’d hurry up and have kids so that the title of heir would be passed
down,” Salazar replied glumly.
“But he never did. And now he and I are bound by fate. But that only is a pull
between us and our magic. Not between our thoughts or emotions. That’s at least
real, right Helga?” Hermione appealed to the witch. 
“Yes, dearie. Everything you feel is real and yours. Everything he feels is
real and his. Fate just provides the pull as a nudge towards what it wants
accomplished,” Helga supplied. 
“Sal, you said that my ancestor’s words were a prophecy. Are there records
anywhere of prophecies? Because supposedly there’s one between Harry and
Voldemort and I don’t want either of them hurt. And I’d like to hear my own as
well,” Hermione asked Salazar. 
“In our day, they were kept in a cave full of mysteries and secrets beyond
comprehension. It was protected by wizards who swore their lives and to never
speak. Their only duty would be to protect the secrets of the cave. Later,
their order was made a part of the Ministry of Magic and given special leave to
build their department deep underground in and around the cave. It became the
Department of Mysteries and the protectors were given the name Unspeakables as
they do not speak of their work. I’ve gathered that there is a whole hall of
prophecies now— the records are memories stored in spun glass of varying sizes.
But only the witch or wizard that a prophecy is about, along with the record
keeper of the Hall are able to move a prophecy from it’s spot.” Salazar
answered.
“So if Harry and I went, we could view our prophecies… That would take a lot of
work to accomplish but it is not impossible,” Hermione nodded, half talking to
herself.
“Nothing is impossible if you are a Deo witch. You did not have to accept my
heir— I promised him to you but your ancestor did not make an answering pledge
of you. She merely thanked me for ensuring that you would not be alone ‘amongst
the wand wavers’ she called us,” Salazar noted. 
“That… that does make me feel better. I was curious as to the pull I felt and
his aura of power being so intoxicating, and not in the sense that I wanted to
serve, just be near him. That was the fate bond of the prophecy, was it not?”
Hermione asked.
“Her prophecy was… not along those lines, no. But it was the fate bond. I can’t
put the memory in a penseive for you, but I can recite her prophecy. If you
view your prophecy in the Department of Mysteries, you will see my memory of
her speaking it. While I wasn’t positive it was prophecy at the time and
scoffed a little, I still did my duty and had it recorded. It’s number 919.”
Salazar was cut off by Hermione gasping.
“Sweetling?”
“That’s my birthday. September 19th. 9-19.” Hermione said, awed. Salazar and
Helga smiled.
“Give me a moment to remember her exact words—” Salazar cleared his throat and
spoke:
“One day, centuries from now, one of my granddaughters will pick up a wand. She
will reinstate your magic, Salazar Slytherin. She will end the blood feuds. Her
will shall decide the outcome of war, as Deos have done before her. Deo Witch
will be one of her titles, but she will shun all but her name.”
Salazar paused before speaking again.
“After your ancestor said her prophecy, I responded ‘To her I promise my heir.’
You were fated to reinstate my magic; It felt like the right thing to say at
the time,” Salazar finished.
***** Conversations *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry it’s a bit short but the plot push can be a bit draining. Next
     chapter will have some more fun.
Hermione was practically dizzy with the thoughts that swirled in her head as
she left the Room of Requirement. She held tightly onto the locket around her
neck, feeling the soothing pull of magic from Salazar’s heir. Hermione hated
calling him Voldemort, but she knew that calling him Tom would irritate him.
She felt like they had reached a happy medium with ‘Enlil’— a name that held no
negative connotations for either of them. She walked slowly back to her
dormitory, trying to sort out her thoughts. She knew that HE would be expecting
her to write to him as soon as possible, but Hermione wanted a clear head
before she did so. She took a detour towards the kitchens to grab some
breakfast from the elves, not up to facing the Great Hall at the moment.
 
She will end the blood feuds. Her will shall decide the outcome of war…
 
Dumbledore, Hermione decided, must not know of the prophecy concerning her. But
how did the prophecy with Harry and the Dark Lord come to pass? The prophecy
pertaining to her was made to and recorded by Salazar Slytherin! Hermione knew
that no matter what, she had to figure out what exactly the prophecy was that
concerned Harry and her lover, the man to whom she was fate bound for an
unspecified amount of time. She would ask Enlil when she wrote to him.
Some fruit and a breakfast roll in hand, Hermione resumed her trek back to her
dormitory. She didn’t want the responsibility she felt was being thrust upon
her with this prophecy. She didn’t even like divination— it was such a load of
bunk. You either had the sight or you did not.
Of all the magics that could be and were taught, Divination was the most
useless. Like with muggles, there should be a social studies class on wizard
cultural through the ages, that was separate from History of Magic. Rites,
rituals and traditions were being lost to time. Knowledge of what herbs to use
in bonfires for which holidays, learning how to channel ritual magic and how to
protect oneself while conducting rites; all of these traditions were being lost
to time and Hermione hated it. She hated that the school was clinging to
traditions that meant nothing and seemingly on purpose losing knowledge that
should be preserved. If she were headmistress… oh if she were in charge much
would change.
 
My Enlil, 
Thank you for such a gift. It is most flattering and heartwarming that you
chose to expend such energy to craft me this lovely journal and spell it for us
to communicate without censure.
I must admit, I am conflicted on two counts. First is the prophecy that Sal
heard from my ancestor: about the Deo who would pick up a wand, end the blood
feuds and decide the outcome of war. Second is the prophecy between you and
Harry. If my prophecy existed, why would a second one naming a different
deciding factor of seemingly the same war be made? Something feels off and I
really must investigate it. Sal says all the prophecies are in the Department
of Mysteries in the Ministry. 
The Vernal Equinox is coming up, but sadly Easter break is not until the
following week. Ginny, Luna and I will be doing a traditional ritual in
secrecy— but we haven’t decided where we will go for the break. I do not want
to be stuck in the castle with that horrid Pink Toad by the name of Dolores
Umbridge.  The Pink Toad is the absolute worst person to walk the grounds of
Hogwarts. She’s making it difficult to use the Room of Requirement without
suspicion.  The Pink Toad is killing me with the ridiculous ‘assignments’ she
has out of a ‘theory’ book for Defense Against the Dark Arts— we haven’t
learned a bloody thing! I practice in the Room with Ginny & Luna alongside our
other extracurricular studies with Sal and the other Founders. If I didn’t
study outside of that pathetic excuse for a class I would fail my O.W.L.s! And
of course, the Pink Toad is doing her damnedest to stop us from studying and
practicing outside her ‘theory only’ syllabus.
I must ask how you achieved the breakout of Azkaban. I’ve been thinking about
it as a logical puzzle and haven’t found the fault yet that you must have
exploited. I’m sure your devoted followers are sincerely happy for what you
have done for them, even if the rest of the country is terrified. Even in
Hogwarts many have sought out Mme Pomfrey for calming draughts. You do like
grand displays, don’t you?
Do let me know if you would like to plan anything for my upcoming vacation from
school grounds I have— I miss you, my Enlil… It has been too long.
Your Little Witch.
 
Hermione smiled as she closed the journal, trailing her fingers over the soft
cerulean blue leather. She would check later for a response. For now, she would
take a luxurious morning bath in the Prefect’s tub, and then prepare for the
meeting with Rita Skeeter and Harry.
After her bath and meditating in the sweet fragranced water, Hermione felt a
lot better about the prophecies influencing her life. She at least felt that
there was more of a path moving forward. Perhaps with Voldemort’s help she
could break into the Department of Mysteries, much like he had already done
with Azkaban. There she could view her own prophecy and with either Voldemort
or Harry with her, she could view theirs—though she did wonder if a prophecy
had to be removed to be viewed, or if she could incite the prophecy to share
itself with her wand. Luna was more of the seer sort anyways, being attuned to
auras and such, so if anyone could figure out how to make the prophecies speak
without being touched, Luna possibly could. Rowena and Salazar would also be
good references, if the Room couldn’t come up with textual sources for her.
Dressing in her standard jumper and jeans weekend look, Hermione pulled on her
fur lined boots and reapplied a warming charm on the lining of her cloak as she
drew it on. She was happy to have the weekend off from Prefect duties,
frequently taking the weekday evening shifts when others would rather be
putting in time studying, attending Quidditch practice or finding a discrete
corner of the castle for snogging. Luna met up with Hermione in the Entrance
Hall and the two shared a coach to Hogsmeade with Terry Boot and Ginny’s ex
boyfriend, Michael Corner, both of whom were in the DA. Pleasant conversation
was made, but Luna and Hermione extracted themselves from the boy’s company to
search the used bookstore as well as stock up on supplies at the apothecary.
Luna was having much better luck in the bookstore than Hermione, gathering
titles like The_Moon_and_The_Goddess_in_You and The_Moon’s_Influence_on
Ritualistic_Magic. Hermione was searching for anything relating to the
recording of prophecies and how it was done, but found little of actual use.
There was a dusty volume entitled A_Seer’s_Guide_to_Prophecies that Hermione
hoped might be interesting but she wasn’t sure. Their browsing took longer than
they expected, so Hermione grabbed a book on Advanced Arthimancy and Runes
before paying for their purchases. The trip to the apothecary was perfunctory
and to the point— they bought herbs for putting in ritual fires, some to try
different blends in their fires when not working on specific traditional rites.
The two witches also purchased potions ingredients to replenish their supplies
and then some; Salazar had promised to oversee some advanced brewing even if he
lacked a corporeal body.  
At a quarter to 2pm, Hermione and Luna made their way to the Hog’s Head to wait
for Rita Skeeter and Harry. Skeeter arrived promptly at 2pm and ordered a pint
after ensuring the girls were paying. The formerly flush witch was looking
rather skinflint— robes hanging off her frame a little less decoratively than
before and Hermione could tell that Skeeter had charmed her hair blonde instead
of using a more permanent and effective potion for the peroxide look the woman
favored. Luna hummed happily to herself and Hermione insisted they wait for
Harry before talking business. To placate Skeeter, Hermione ordered the woman a
light meal, hoping that if she was eating, Skeeter couldn’t take nasty notes
with that lime green quill of hers. In fact, Hermione had a newly charmed quill
for the occasion that she would gift to Skeeter in efforts to keep the
conversation to what Harry actually said rather than the made up lies that
Skeeter had built herself up with in years prior.
15 minutes late, Harry came in, grumbling about witches and crying and what the
bloody hell was he supposed to do. He crashed into the seat next to Hermione
and gave her a hug, before greeting Luna and Rita— a cold, calculating look
being tossed at the latter witch.
“Now that Harry’s here, let’s get down to business. We ordered you a
butterbeer, Harry,” Hermione said, sliding the extra bottle of butterbeer in
front of her over to her friend. A muttered ‘Thanks’ was heard in response.
Skeeter swiftly looked over the boy and tried to get an angle on him and what
role she was to play.
“Well, Little-Miss-Perfect, you summoned me here. What is it that you want? Am
I to apologize to Harry? Seems a bit late in your game for that,” Skeeter
sneered at Hermione, who smiled sweetly back at her.
“Oh no, Ms. Skeeter. I have a proposition for you. Harry, here, is once again
being slandered by the media. We would like you to write the truth behind the
story. You still are a mighty force behind a quill, Ms. Skeeter. Think of what
a comeback you’ll have— an exclusive interview with Harry telling of Vol—“
Hermione’s speech was cut off abruptly.
“Don’t say his name!” Skeeter hissed, wincing horribly.
“Why ever not? It is said that fear of a name just increases fear of a thing
itself. And as the writer of this wonderful exposé, I will give you specific
warding spells I’ve tested out myself. You will not be harmed for this, I
guarantee it.” Hermione smirked deviously, omitting that she’d be paying her
lover all sorts of favors to ensure the safety of this vile woman if need be
and that the warding was against people not working for Voldemort. Soon,
Hermione was sure it wasn’t going to matter much anymore.
“Okay, so who would ever dare publish it? The Prophet won’t touch it…” Rita
Skeeter began, throwing a more interested look at Harry, who was resolutely
starting at the table and drinking his butterbeer.
“Oh, Daddy’s going to publish it in the Quibbler. He believes everything Harry
has said as the truth.” Luna smiled serenely, using her I’m-paying-much-more-
attention-than-you-think-is-possible charm and dialing it up a notch. She knew
it disconcerted people, but Luna enjoyed throwing people off balance and seeing
the ripples in their auras as they tried to wrap their minds around her. Luna
and Helga Hufflepuff had some very interesting and in depth conversations about
auras and how to manipulate them while in the Room of Requirement.
“Is he now? How much does this pay?” Skeeter asked, getting down to the heart
of the matter. Due to Hermione, she was down to her last galleons, and needed
the job badly. She didn’t want them to know how badly she needed it.
“Daddy says it’s an honor; I don’t think any of the writers actually get paid…
But you will receive copies of course,” Luna said, unfocusing her eyes to look
distant. Hermione was trying not to roll hers as Skeeter looked horrified.
“Look, Ms. Skeeter— I will put twenty Galleons towards getting this article
written. With the truth and no embellishment. I even purchased a lovely eagle
feather quill that I charmed myself for dictation, so that you’ll have the most
correct notes of what Harry says.” Hermione produced the quill in the box it’d
come in as well as a new bottle of charmed ink, a fresh sheaf of parchment, and
a bag containing the twenty galleons as promised.
“The ink is charmed like the rest of the ink I own— with my own charm for self
correction in spelling and grammar and who doesn’t need more parchment?”
Hermione slid the stack in front of Skeeter who pushed her empty plate away.
“I can’t see why I shouldn’t take the job. However,” Rita Skeeter narrowed her
eyes at Hermione, “the question is why are you doing this? And asking me?”
“Simple. I need a favor. I want this published. You are a reporter who is in
need of a job and knows not to cross me, particularly when I’ve gone to lengths
to make this an attractive proposition. I am very kind to my friends, Ms.
Skeeter.” Hermione smiled blandly. Skeeter gulped, remembering when she’d
crossed Hermione Granger and how she’d ended up trapped in a jar before being
blackmailed into not writing any decent paying articles— even if it was pure
speculation to sell papers rather than the truth.
“You do this for me, Ms. Skeeter, and I will personally  ensure  more work
comes  your  way. A  friend  in the press corps is a  valuable  friend indeed.”
Hermione emphasized her words to make her point.
“Alright, Little-Miss-Perfect, you’ve got yourself a deal.” Rita Skeeter swept
the bag of galleons off the table. “Well, shall we do this now, or someplace
more private?”
“Harry, do you want Luna and I to be present for this interview?” Hermione
turned towards Harry, who had finished his butterbeer and was spinning the
bottle around in his hands.
“That’d be nice. It’s not… easy… to talk about. Cedric was a good man.” Harry
sighed, looking up. The poor boy looked tired and world weary at just 15.
“How about I grab some more drinks, and Luna and I will be right here if you
need us, okay?” Hermione smiled genuinely at her best friend, squeezing his
shoulder. A brief smile flashed on Harry’s face in gratitude.
***** Betrayal on the Equinox *****
Chapter Notes
     As is obvious with AU, liberties have been taken with this story,
     particularly with the middle names. We all know Ginny’s middle name
     is Molly, but ‘Molly’ is also a nickname. Given the names of Molly
     Weasley’s maiden family, I chose a Welsh variety of Mary-- Prewett
     being Welsh and also fitting in with the biblical Gideon and Roman/
     Norman Fabian. For Luna, some sites are saying her middle name is
     Elizabeth, which I cannot find a source closely linked to HP to
     verify. I simply chose a Scandinavian version of this name in keeping
     with the proposed ancestry of the girls within this story.
     For the Vernal Equinox, I have them speaking in English despite
     Hermione typically doing her rites in Greek (stemming from it being
     passed down generation to generation in Crete. As her mother taught
     Hermione how she was taught and also to feel closer to her Grecian
     roots, their rites have been in Greek). Since they are not renewing
     wards from Helga Hufflepuff’s journal as Hermione did on Samhain, I
     saw no need to invoke each goddess in a ‘native’ tongue given that
     faith could transcend language. As Hermione was invoking the Founders
     rather than deities, I deemed it prudent to have them invoked in Old
     English.
     Huge thanks to my beta Havelocked for helping on Vernal Equinox rite
     and name research, along with her normal editorial duties!
When Hermione finally sunk into her bed that evening, she felt drained. Harry
had told her and Ron about his terrible date with Cho, for which Hermione did
feel slightly responsible for— given that Cho was upset that on Valentine’s Day
he was to meet with another witch after their date. Nevermind said witch was
his best friend and more like a sister with how she looked after him. Cho was
upset and still grieving Cedric, which Hermione had to remind the two boys. It
was so obvious to Hermione, yet seemed to be quite obscure to Harry and Ron.
Ron proclaimed that Hermione would make a killing if she could translate ‘girl’
into ‘guy’ to which Hermione could only roll her eyes. Ron was going to have to
do some serious growing up if he ever hoped to marry. Privately, she thought
the same about Sirius Black, but also realized he had a lot of difficulty being
a prisoner in the torturous childhood home to which he never wanted to return.
Sometimes Hermione had an inkling that Dumbledore did what suited him best, and
not what was best for those who depended upon him for care, students included.
Her new notebook glowed slightly, which she realized meant that she already had
a response to her letter. A thrill of happiness ran through her as she grabbed
the journal from the nightstand and opened it.
My Little Witch,
I would be both pleased and honored if you would join me at my estate for your
Easter vacation. I realize that it would normally be a time of fierce studying
for O.W.L.s, however your description of the ‘Pink Toad’ leaves much to be
desired. Say the word and she will be disposed of. I would say that I’m being
humorous, but you know I would if you wanted. Such disruption in knowledge and
education is repugnant, and I believe it is one of the reasons the olde
traditions are falling more and more into obscurity, when they are the
lifeblood of wizarding culture.  I have never had a more magical and
enlightening Saturnalia than when you lead the rites and rituals. I’m appalled
at those who profess to want to follow the olde ways when they do not follow
through. I was remiss in thinking that the Purebloods would keep their own
traditions alive.
You were born to right the wrongs that I set out to fix. Seeing you perform
with such grace and innate alacrity, I can acknowledge how flawed my attempts
at a coup have been. Upon questioning, my ancestor deemed I was fit to hear the
prophecy pertaining to you. I will agree it is suspicious that a second
prophecy was made, particularly after you were born, in regards to the same
issue. I know now that I did not receive the whole prophecy regarding myself
and your friend, and it plagues me night and day that I do not know it all.
Perhaps a dual investigation into these matters is necessary. Should you accept
my invitation to stay with me over your vacation, I will share with you what I
know. I would prefer the opportunity for a discussion rather than our written
prose.
And regarding Azkaban, I did think of you as I worked through breaking the
wards— the application of runes and arthimancy in them was most fascinating.
Perhaps when you see my notes you will be able to spot the weakest points that
I exploited into faults. Of course, most useful was being able to confer with
the Dementors. It is done through an advanced form of Legilimency where
communication occurs instead of the reading of thoughts. My freed servants are
grateful indeed, to be welcomed back into my fold, though some will need
rehabilitation to be fit to serve again. The madness induced by years of being
trapped within one’s darkest thoughts has left many lacking their former
usefulness and glory. I know that Sirius Black has been cleverly hidden by
Dumbledore— how did he fare with rehabilitation? I do not wish to have such
mindless beasts serving me as those came out of Azkaban.
And really, Little Witch, would anything but dramatic be expected of me? I
shall aim to work covertly as long as possible, but a Dark Lord is expected to
have such displays prior to his first move for power. 
My invitation extends to your companions as well. I am interested in the
dynamics of the triad you have formed, nor would I want to deprive you of their
company, as much as I would like to keep you to myself. Severus will apparate
you here, should you accept. It is a lovely estate in the countryside. There is
a convergence of two ley lines farther out in the fields, and I am planning a
ritual circle to be prepared there. Perhaps you have advice on preparations? I
would appreciate your expertise on the matter.
Your Enlil
Hermione’s toes curled in pleasure at the thought of spending a week with him.
With her, he was Enlil— a brilliant, educated man of strong opinions and
interesting debates. Unfortunately to the rest of the world he was Voldemort,
the Dark Lord. She did find it interesting that he said the dramatic displays
were expected of him, rather than his desire. She wondered how much of his
image as the Dark Lord was foisted upon him, much like the sensationalism Harry
faced both for and against him. Hermione wrote two words before going to sleep,
intending to write a proper response in the morning.
I accept
 
The Vernal Equinox was fast approaching leading Ginny and Luna to giddiness at
being included in Hermione’s rite. They planned it thoroughly— how to escape
the castle to the glade by the Forbidden Forest, what herbs to use in the fire,
to what they should do and say. While it was agreed they would not invoke ley
lines during this rite, keeping it basic for their first ritual together as a
triad, Luna and Ginny did begin making their own ritual robes embroidered and
imbued with protective Runes and charms.
Hermione and Voldemort traded letters through their journals— and he even
expressed his mirth at how Hermione was able to both black-mail and bribe Rita
Skeeter into not only telling the truth, but to have it published in the
Quibbler, which lead to a second printing it became so popular. Hermione
humorously promised, should he want his own expose, she would be happy to
arrange his own interview with the notorious reporter. Sadly, Ginny was unable
to get permission from her family to go on another vacation with Hermione and
Luna, having missed Christmas with her own family. Luna’s father was busy with
the Quibbler and paid little attention to the fact that his daughter was
fabricating a story about staying with Hermione’s muggle parents to write a
report for Muggle Studies, whereas Hermione convinced her own parents that she
would be staying with Luna and not far from Ginny’s family. Cover stories
completed, Severus was engaged and accepted favors from Luna to escort them to
Voldemort’s estate, which was coupled with the order from the Dark Lord to
escort the girls and stay for the duration of the break.
 
On the Vernal Equinox, the triad woke before dawn to gather their prepared
items and sneak out of the castle to the glade Hermione had done her Samhain
ritual. They carefully made a circle with stones that had been painted with
runes. They used Hermione’s specialty blue smokeless flames for their
ceremonial fire, and tossed in dried herbs they had prepared especially for the
rite: clover, vervain, honeysuckle, and scotchbroom. The triad had spent the
previous evening weaving flower crowns from conjured flowers, which they donned
with their runic robes for their ritual, finishing with Hermione casting wards
around their circle. Snape had been made aware of their plans but they still
erred for caution. Much like with Hermione’s Samhain rite, magical creatures
and those sensitive to magic gathered near the glade, and Severus Snape
covertly watched— not wanting to miss what would be the triad’s first ritual
conducted together.  
Ginny stepped forward around the fire to begin the rite.
“I, Ginerva Mairwen Weasley, daughter of Mairwen, begin this sacred rite. I
invoke the blessed Brigid, goddess of dawn and knowledge, to call Spring to
this land,” tossing a sachet of the herbs they’d previously used into the fire.
“I, Luna Elisabet Lovegood, daughter of Pandora, call upon the Goddess Idunn to
bless this land with Rejuvenation to Spring. I plead that her mercy also extend
rejuvenation to the souls in our lives who have seen much weariness in the days
past and the days to come.” Luna followed Ginny’s motions, stepping forward for
her invocation before tossing in a sachet of the dried herbs.
“I, Hermione Jean Deo Granger, daughter of Diana, call upon Demeter, mother of
Earth and goddess of grain. I beseech you to bring a bountiful season, from
seed to harvest, to this land. I thank you for the life that has sustained us,
and ask for our continued grace by your will.”
“We give thanks to our ancestors and the ancestors of this land,” The triad
finished together, bowing their heads briefly before sitting around their
ceremonial fire. There they broke bread together, eating and drinking pumpkin
juice as they greeted the dawn in flowers and white robes. They were quite
pleased with their first ritual together with the three of them taking equal
part.
The animals that had gathered to watch the rite by the triad also bowed their
heads before going their separate ways. Severus Snape stayed hidden, trailing
the girls until they made their way inside the castle. Stealth was needed by
all as dawn arrived just past 7 o’clock that morning, and by the time they had
finished, it was close to 8am. While the triad was not going to breakfast, the
girls utilized a disillusionment charm to hide themselves until they could get
to the Room of Requirement and change, having stashed their school robes there
prior to leaving for their dawn ritual. Snape, remaining unseen by the girls,
took his silent leave of them and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.
 
While no magic had been channeled for the ritual, something that Hermione had
warned Ginny and Luna about— that not every rite or ritual would require
such—all three had been feeling light hearted and full of exuberant energy that
day. The secret meeting that evening of the DA seemed to go quite well until it
was quite obvious that something was amiss. Dobby the house elf popped up mid-
meeting and was having difficulty telling Harry what everyone was guessing very
important.  Once the message was imparted that Umbridge was laying in wait to
ambush them, panic broke out in the Room of Requirement. With desperate need
for everyone to flee undercover, Hermione, Ginny and Luna at once began casting
disillusionment charms and telling everyone to remove them with a  ‘Finite
Incantatem’   once they had reached a safe and discrete area near their own
common rooms.
Hermione placed a hand on the wall of the room and begged internally on her own
blood and the Founder’s grace for another, separate exit from the room to an
empty hallway. Slow to respond, while Luna and Ginny finished the
Disillusionment Charms and Harry was trying to convince Dobby not to injure
himself, Hogwarts obeyed Hermione’s request and a second door formed on the far
side of the room. Neville cried out that there was a new door that appeared for
them, oblivious to Hermione’s communion with the Room. With the DA
disillusioned and leaving to safety, Hermione, Luna, Ginny and Harry looked at
one another— Harry in complete surprise at the witches who handled the
situation while he was talking to Dobby. The others didn’t seem to take notice
of the fact that Hermione had orchestrated the disillusionment charms and
delegated to Luna and Ginny, and if anything expected the resident Know-It-All
to do it. Harry on the other hand, immediately was slightly suspicious.
“We’re going to need to talk about this,” Harry leveled at Hermione, taking
notice of the triad’s stance— Ginny and Luna protectively flanking Hermione.
“I suppose we will. However, Harry, we got everyone to safety. What’s our next
move?” Hermione responded, unintimidated.
“I’m going out the normal door, they can catch me. You three disillusion
yourselves and get away. Take Dobby with you. Dobby— I want you to go back to
the kitchens and hide. If Umbridge asks you anything about this evening I want
you to lie and say you didn’t see us or warn us or anything. I forbid you to
hurt yourself!” Harry ordered. 
“Be the Martyr, Harry. We’ll discuss this later, as you said,” Hermione said,
disillusioning herself and her companions, as well as the House-elf and leading
them out of the door the Room provided to an unused corridor that everyone had
quietly and quickly dispersed from. Lifting the spell from Dobby, Hermione
urged the little elf to follow Harry’s request immediately.
“Are we really going to let him take the fall all by himself?” Ginny whispered
to Hermione.
“It’s who he is, Gin. He’s been manipulated to play the hero and not care about
himself. I think I’m going to tell him about our sessions together in the
room,” Hermione whispered back.
“I agree, there’s not much else we can do.” Luna sighed.
“Okay, let’s not hang around here then,” Ginny said as they took off at a quick
pace from the corridor, finding themselves right near a passageway behind a
tapestry towards Ravenclaw tower, and the stairs to Gryffindor. They parted
ways, each feeling slightly uneasy about the evening’s progression.
 
The next morning, they awoke to the news of Headmaster Dumbledore disappearing
from the castle and grounds after stunning the Minister for Magic, two Aurors,
and Umbridge herself. Apparently Umbridge had even taken it upon herself to lay
hands on Marietta Edgecomb, whom the jinxed DA sign-up sheet labeled a SNEAK
across her face in large pustules. Covertly, Fred and George gave Hermione
high-fives for the ingenious non-removable jinx (Hermione refused to give up
the counter-jinx). Harry felt guilty for Dumbledore having to leave— all
because they named their Defense group Dumbledore’s Army on a whim— while also
having conflicting feelings about confronting his best friend, about exactly
what he wasn’t sure, but it was something important he knew.
***** Confession *****
Chapter Notes
     Another short plot push-- too long to put in the chapter before or
     the chapter to follow. Huge thanks to my beta!!
Hermione paced in the Gryffindor common room the night before everyone was due
to leave for Easter break. She was waiting to meet up with Harry so he could
come with her after curfew to the Room of Requirement There she’d reveal
everything she, Ginny, and Luna had been up to that year— though the triad
agreed that it would be for the best to not divulge anything in regards to
Voldemort and the bare minimum on Snape. The Founders were in agreement with
the girls on informing Harry but also of keeping certain events to a ‘need-to-
know’ basis.
“Ready, Hermione?” Harry whispered to her, invisible under his cloak. Hermione
jumped, startled from her thoughts.
“Yeah, follow me,” Hermione whispered back, making her way to the portrait
exit. She held it open like she was pausing for thought so that Harry could
slip through ahead of her. 
“Young lady… You do realize it’s after curfew?” The portrait of the Fat Lady
asked, trying to be stern.
“Yes, but I can’t sleep and thought I might take a bath in the Prefect’s Bath…
It’s just so soothing and relaxing. The stress of O.W.L.s is keeping me awake
and I just—“ Hermione lied through her teeth to the Fat Lady, who held up a
hand.
“Say no more, I have seen generations of students suffer through their O.W.L.s.
They are very stressful and you are a very responsible young lady. Be back soon
and don’t get caught!” The Fat Lady tittered, always protective of her students
but appreciative of the Gryffindor boldness and bravery that frequently ended
up with rule breaking.
“You know I won’t.” Hermione winked at the Fat Lady before disillusioning
herself.
“Very good, my girl! You are getting more and more talented with that spell! I
cannot see a shimmer or shadow even!” The Fat Lady praised Hermione as the
invisible girl strode off, Harry at her heels.
“So you, Luna and Ginny meet in the Room? I thought you just went there to
study?” Harry whispered as they made their way to the seventh floor corridor.
“We do study there. And it used to just be me, but Luna and Ginny… well I’ll
tell you very soon. Shh, we don’t want to be caught!” Hermione shushed him and
lead on.
 
When they reached the room, Hermione paced in front of it and the door to her
haven appeared. She opened it, and Harry brushed past her before she went in.
Once inside, each removed their means for invisibility. Harry looked around the
room, seeing the low tables of books, comfortable pillows and a painting of a
large wooden table with four chairs but no occupants. Hermione sat on one of
the pillows and motioned for Harry to do the same.
“Might as well get comfortable, Harry, it’s a bit of a long story you see.”
Hermione cracked a half smile.
She started at the beginning— how she found the room useful for studying on her
own in 4th year, how the room provided her with books on Earth Magic and
translated copies of Helga Hufflepuff’s journals. She explained how she and her
mother had always practiced ‘family traditions’ that she realized were rites
and rituals belonging to earth magic and the olde traditions that have almost
died out in wizarding cultures. Hermione told Harry about Samhain, and that her
ritual mirroring Helga Hufflepuff’s to renew the wards had caused what everyone
thought to be fireworks.
She told him of Snape and how he explained the significance of her mother’s
family in the wizarding world, before vowing to protect her and suggesting
self-discovery to find out her potential as a Deo Witch.
Of how Luna saw her aura and asked questions, leading to a similar discussion
in the Room as Hermione was currently having with Harry.
Of how Ginny became so interested in Hermione and Luna’s conversations that she
was brought into the secret and the three of them formed a triad, studying and
practicing magic in new and olde ways.
Of the Founders appearance in the currently empty portrait, assisting in their
studies and teaching them techniques lost to time.
Of how their trip to Greece was really the triad celebrating Saturnalia with
the Deo clan and learning earth magic from them, quite unlike the modern
british wizarding understanding of magic, eschewing wands in favor of their
hands and the ancient traditions of the Deos, descended from Demeter.  
Of their ritual on the Vernal Equinox, and that Hermione and Luna were to be
doing a ritual for Ostara over Easter break, and that Ginny was being kept at
home since she missed Christmas with her family.
And finally, Hermione told of the prophecy that her ancestor spoke to Salazar
Slytherin.
Harry’s impatient nature had suspended itself for the moment, absorbing
everything Hermione was telling him, not interrupting her but nodding and
motioning for Hermione to continue.
“That’s… wow, Hermione. You’re like, royalty— no— a god to wizards,” Harry
responded when Hermione had finished.
“To some yes. It’s a bit weird, and well, I don’t really want anyone to know.
At least not for now. Snape… I know things have been difficult between you and
him, but he really does protect me, Harry. He made a vow and I accepted it.
It’s binding. And supersedes other pledges because I’m a Deo. Snape is worried
I’ll be taken advantage of and having seen what’s happened to you first hand…”
Hermione trailed off and Harry nodded ruefully.
“Yeah, it sucks a lot. That’s why only you and Ron are my best friends. I wish
you told me sooner, Hermione. Why couldn’t you tell me?” Harry wanted to know.
“Harry, you’re my brother and I love you. You’ve had so much going on and
you’ve been so stressed… I couldn’t add to it. And at first I was a little
worried you might tell Dumbledore. His actions have been making me really
uncomfortable. You, for instance, are made to stay with your hateful Aunt and
Uncle when Sirius could have taken you in— anyone could have with a simple
blood magic rite. Don’t give me that look, it’s not dark magic! Your mother
performed a blood magic ritual to protect you when she died. The protection
Dumbledore talks about, your mother’s sacrifice— that doesn’t happen naturally
without a rite. I’ve researched it, Harry. I can give you the books…” Hermione
chewed on her lip as Harry looked down at his hands, confused and torn.
“You mean… my mum did blood magic? That’s what saved me?” Harry asked quietly.
“It did, Harry. Blood magic is neutral— it can save lives or end them. And
blood wards are the strongest there are, magically. It’s one of the oldest
forms of magic. Salazar said that it was the first magic wizards did without
the aid of gods,” Hermione ventured.
“So you’re on first name terms with Slytherin? Wasn’t he against muggleborns? I
don’t get it,” Harry spat, his confusion causing him to lash out in anger.
“He was worried about their safety as Christianity swept the world. People were
dying, Harry, and the most vulnerable were children. A lot of muggleborns had
their magic so repressed by their family and communities and church that their
magic became these creatures of darkness, Obscurials. Their repressed magic
would usually kill them by the time they were 8 or 9. Sal and Godric argued
over it, Godric thinking they could still be saved and Sal thinking that by not
interfering, no additional harm would come to them with a validation that they
were witches. Things are easier now, with the majority of the world not
believing in magic and ignoring it a lot of the time, but back then it was life
or death.” Hermione sighed. Harry nodded petulantly.
“And the…m… word?” Harry asked, looking pitiful as he couldn’t bear to say
‘Mudblood’ to his best friend’s face.
“Mudblood was an early description of how muggle-borns got their magic from the
earth and ley lines, rather than being the mortal descendants of the Tuatha Dé
Danann— the ancient gods of the isles.” Hermione smiled at Harry and took his
hand. “Once I learned what the word originally meant, it was a lot less
hurtful. I actually found it a bit funny. I am earth-born— my magic is not just
that of the Deo clan as none of them could wield a wand.”
“And all of this… is just forgotten? How does a whole culture forget their
roots?” Harry marveled.
“I’m not sure, but I think the direction of Hogwarts’ teaching over the
centuries has affected it. Even purebloods don’t keep up the olde traditions
like I do. Luna’s family does it, but they’re labeled weird. So we learn and
practice magic in here at least once a week. Somehow I’m going to be involved
in the war, but I don’t think it will be with the Order. Or against it. Just
rather… on my own. At least I’ll have Luna and Ginny to support me,” Hermione
said, shrugging nervously.
“You always can count on me, Hermione. Especially if it means I don’t have to
battle Voldemort one day.” Harry squeezed her hand.
“That is something I’m trying to figure out. The prophecy about me was made in
the 11th century. The prophecy about you was made in 1980; but I’d already been
born. Something doesn’t feel right about it and I want to find out. The problem
is that all prophecies are kept in the Department of Mysteries in the
Ministry.” Hermione nodded slowly as she explained, “I think I’m going to have
to break in to get to both of them, but only the people who the prophecy is
about can remove it from it’s shelf in the Hall of Prophecy.”
“I’ll go with you and take it off the shelf. I want to know what this prophecy
about me is too. I agree with you; something isn’t right about the second
prophecy involving me. Both prophecies can’t come to pass, which means one is
false. I learned that much in Divination at least.” Harry gave a short laugh.
“Exactly. And just… Dumbledore keeps grooming you into being the hero. And he’s
basically keeping Sirius prisoner in Grimmauld Place— which is torture because
he hates that house. But Dumbledore needs the place for the order. I just don’t
trust him, Harry,” Hermione confessed. Harry looked at his best friend for a
few moments, trying to comprehend everything.
“I… I’ve never known you to be wrong, Hermione. I really have to think on it
though. I do think it’s weird Dumbledore has been so distant with me this year.
And what you say does make sense. I just don’t know if it means that I don’t
trust him. I do respect that you don’t want him to know about you though,”
Harry responded slowly.
“I understand, Harry. I’m not asking you to change your mind, it’s just this is
what I’ve observed. And I do think it’s important for us to find out exactly
what your prophecy says, and how to determine if a prophecy is false. Part of
mine has already come to pass— I am a Deo and a witch with a wand. If I am the
one to decide the outcome of the blood feuds… Oh Harry, I never understood
before how your prophecy must make you feel. I’ve been so nervous and afraid
and I don’t want the responsibility. We’re just kids! Why are we being pushed
towards war?” Hermione looked at Harry, tears filling her eyes.
“It’s pretty exhausting, isn’t it? Being ‘The Chosen One’ and all. At least no
one knows about you.” Harry hugged her.
“Yeah. They just print awful things about me because I’m your friend, not
because I might be ‘The Chosen One’,” Hermione laughed bitterly and Harry
couldn’t help a snort of laughter.
“We’ll figure it out, Hermione. Remus is right, you’re the brightest witch of
our age, and if anyone can solve it, it’s us. We’ve gotten through everything
this far, yeah?” Harry asked, a half smile tilting his mouth.
“Yeah. We’ll get through this. Together.” Hermione smiled back at him.
 
***** Here Comes The [Prodigal] Son Part 1 *****
Chapter Summary
     We meet back up with our fabulous female trio as they depart to spend
     spring break with VoldiePants. Hijinks ensue.
Chapter Notes
     I am going to begin with an apology. To say that my life completely
     fell apart last year is an understatement. I won't go into details,
     but it has been stranger than fiction. I've been trying desperately
     to pick this back up for quite some time, and well, I waited until I
     had the start of the next chapter before I posted this one, just in
     case. In all, I'm sorry there was a much longer hiatus than I ever
     anticipated.
     Oh and um, graphic violence comes into play in this chapter. And
     smut! Not at the same time.
     -B.
The excitement that coursed through Hermione’s veins was almost uncontainable.
Ginny was understandably put out, but had wrangled the promise of an overnight
with Hermione from her parents, which made her feel slightly better. That was
the cover story for both Luna and Ginny to tell their parents as to their
whereabouts for Easter break. Professor Snape was to meet them disguised as
Hermione’s father. Hermione only hoped that Luna wouldn’t do something horribly
embarrassing that everyone just passed off as her dottiness, when in reality,
she was being quite wicked. Quite wicked indeed.
But wickedness must be catching because her own thoughts turns towards her
Enlil, and how she’d be in his arms again in a few short hours. Hermione
shifted uncomfortably, thinking that she must be mad to do something like honor
a request to wear the same panties that she did on the equinox without washing
them but she did as her lover asked. Distracting herself, she thought on their
exchanged words. She knew he’d been working on a ritual circle in the field
behind the manor that had once belonged to the Riddles, and before that, Gaunt
family.
Enlil wrote her letters about the runes he was working with, the spells he
worked on, but also now and then his boyhood, and the family that he felt was
rightfully his as the last heir of the blood of Slytherin. The Gaunts were once
mighty and powerful across the fens, descending from Slytherin himself. But
then the pro-muggle laws passed and any time a muggle was harmed only a Gaunt
would be blamed, when really the Black family perpetrated much of it. The Gaunt
family dwindled and fell to ruin and drinking and gambling and incest to keep
the line of Slytherin pure. There was no large family anymore, where a second
cousin might marry a fourth cousin and the line of Slytherin was protected.
Here, Enlil was so bitter for his mother, for himself, and what had become of
the Gaunt family. He wrote of restoring his house and it’s honor, rather than
domination of wizard kind. Hermione thought of the notes and letters they
traded in the past week, and how much more balanced Enlil was than before.
Hermione smiled to herself thinking of Saturnalia as she hummed softly to
herself. One grounds oneself in the Olde Ways and the rituals-- her mother was
quite right. Oh, her mother. She should write a few times and maybe even send a
postcard the muggle way; Enlil did say there was a small town a short walk
away.
Before she knew it, the train arrived and there, pristine and unassuming, stood
a man who by looks was her father. Hermione knew without a doubt it was
Severus. No one else had exactly the same presence he did, but no one seemed to
notice as he stood quietly, hands folded in front on him, in a smart sport
jacket and trousers. All in all, he looked to be a very ordinary muggle man.
Slowly Hermione reached out to greet him first-- even the smell was her
father!-- and grazed her lips across his cheek like she always did, albeit with
her actual father and not Severus in disguise. Luna bounded across more
enthusiastically, grabbing the man by the ears and giving him a spectacular
kiss.
“Hello, Mr. Granger. It’s very nice to see you. Thank you for letting me stay
at your house this weekend.” Luna said brightly as Severus-Mr.Granger stood
rigid and unsure. Hermione placed a hand on her faux father’s arm.
“It’s okay, Daddy. It’s just Luna’s… special way of saying hello sometimes.”
Hermione glared at Luna who was acting absent-minded again, putting on her
‘Spectra-specs’ that she wore as fashion statement.
“I… see. Come along, girls. Ginny, are you coming with us this time?” Severus-
Mr.Granger asked.
“Oh um, well my mum--” she waved a hand at the gaggle of redheads about 2
meters away--” said she would allow an overnight. So it depends which night is
convenient, Mr. Granger.” Ginny smiled up at the man with as much innocence as
possible, twirling her hair and fiddling with the hem of her skirt.
“Ginny, dear,” Mrs. Weasley came bustling over with her matronly air having
hugged the stuffing out of Harry and Ron already, and decided some stuffing
needed hugging out of Ginny as well.
“Erfgh, mum--” Ginny struggled to free herself, and succeed marginally.
“I just wanted to say, how kind it was for you to look after our sweet Ginerva
over Christmas. We do want to see her, but such strong female friendships are
important in a girl’s life. I can pick her up Tuesday, if that’s alright with
you--” Mrs. Weasley started to release Ginny, whose face was awfully red; it
wasn’t obvious if it was due to embarrassment or lack of air.
“It is not a problem at all, madam. Your daughter is a delight to have around.”
Severus-Mr. Granger said, trying not to sound strained. This seemed to be his
hardest double agent role yet, and all because of three teenage girls hell bent
on destroying him. With pleasure or with pain, he was not sure.
“We were planning to go to Diagon Alley with the girls on Wednesday, but
Tuesday is equally amenable.” Severus-Mr. Granger added, relieving Hermione of
her momentary panic about the Weasleys showing up at her parents’ house.
“Yes, yes, that would be perfect, and then the girls can still have their
shopping day together!” Mrs. Weasley said, a giant smile on her face and
capturing Hermione and Ginny in a giant hug from which Luna quickly stepped out
of the way of while maintaining her supposed inattention. After one last
squeeze that Ginny was sure might break a rib, they were let go and she
breathed sweet, precious air again.
“Indeed. We must be off to our auto-- my wife is waiting anxiously.” Severus-
Mr. Granger nodded his head politely and steered the girls away from the
Weasley matron, who waved and shouted one last goodbye to Ginny.
Once outside of Platform 9 ¾, Severus-Mr. Granger beckoned the girls to follow
him to an unused private waiting area where they closed the door and apparated
to the Gaunt estate. Voldemort had reverted the name back to that of his
magical ancestors who once owned the manor instead of the dirty muggles who
cheated them out of it, and later on, cheated his mother and himself from a
decent life. He’d had the manor renovated, and essentially magically rebuilt
after decades of disrepair and disuse. There was the time that he was a
homunculus within these walls, but he prefered not to think of such times. One
would never know it was even the same place, now that the renovations were
complete and the new wards laid down.
And now his little witch would be with him for an entire week; his cock
hardened again thinking of her soft lips and lush cunt. He had to be careful
though. He needed her assistance, as much as he was loathe to need any
assistance. Needing hers, however, was not an unpleasant feeling. While filing
the research for his rebirthing spell, he found that it had not quite
succeeded. He calculated that the botched serpentine body was due to Wormtail
not being adept enough of a wizard nor affiliated with Earth magic, like He,
Lord Voldemort. The spell should have been spoken in parseltongue, but without
the aid of another speaker, the modern English translation had to do: his
current body being the result. Should he create an anchor in his little Deo
Witch with a permanent bond, he would be able to complete the spell, now
balanced thanks to the Equinox and Hermione’s light affiliation.
He only needed one full horcrux to properly reabsorb the soul-- Damn Malfoy for
not doing the easier horcrux resurrection spell like he’d been bid in case
irreparable harm came to Voldemort. The largest piece of his soul that had been
stowed away was going to need to be called back to his body. It couldn’t cross
the veil without him but Soul Magic was difficult to perform by the strongest
practitioners, as he knew having split his own soul. But if he could split it,
he could repair it, especially with his little Deo to help him. And then he
would enjoy his little witch and his anchor in her. It wasn’t exactly a step
towards immortality, maybe even a step back. He just needed her to agree of her
own free will to be the sacrifice in which he would anchor himself.
The door to Voldemort’s study clattered and there she was, a frizzy halo of
curls bouncing around her as she went to him.
“My Enlil” Hermione breathed, throwing her arms around him and taking in his
scent.
“Hermione. My little witch.” Voldemort wrapped his own arms around her, guiding
her to stand between his legs where he could feel like he encased her.
“I missed you.”
“And I, you. Are you tired from your journey? Tea will be served in the large
dining room, shortly.” Voldemort looked into her face, reveling in the
happiness he saw there. Even as a half serpentine man, this little witch wanted
him.
“That would be lovely. But right now, all I’d really like is you.” Hermione
grinned mischievously and kissed him with abandon, which was readily
returned.They were not in time for tea. They did however, make an appearance at
supper. Sat again at Voldemort’s right hand, Hermione was surprised to see that
there were several of the Death Eaters that had been broken out of Azkaban. The
wizards and single witch were all bedraggled and twitchy, constantly scanning
for something to come out and hurt them. The witch sneered at her.
“I know you, mudblood. Potter’s little whore, the papers say.” She had crazed
heavy-lidded eyes and grizzled black curls that would have once rivaled
Hermione’s own.
“Be nice Bella.” Voldemort warned, sounded tired. He snapped his fingers and
Wormtail rushed in and began serving the meal.
“I am hoping that my presence will assist my faithful servants in returning
their former behaviors and habits.” Voldemort mentioned casually watching
Bellatrix Lestrange admire herself in the soup spoon while her husband
Rodolphus slurped loudly and his brother forsook all flatware, drinking
straight from his bowl. Fenrir Greyback was seated about mid table, across from
Severus, who was flanked by Ginny and Luna.
“Did you bring us dessert, m’lord? These ones look awfully tasty. You know how
I like them young” Greyback flashed a grin of too many teeth that may have been
sharpened.
“Greyback, these are our guests. You will treat them with respect or you will
meet the end of my wand.” Voldemort spat coldly, everyone stilling for a moment
while the threat was processed and understood.
“Yes… m’lord.” Greyback greedily eyed Luna and her silvery blonde hair. Oh how
Fenrir loved blondes and how it looked with their blood smeared in it. Hermione
took note of his leer, a shiver of disgust running down her spine. She
continued to eat with the utmost manners, which Hermione was surprised to see
that the Lestrange brothers began to copy. During the second course, Rodolphus
grunted and elbowed his wife Bellatrix to copy the manners. Bellatrix eyes
snapped to Hermione’s, simmering with disgust and hate. Delicately, Bellatrix
stuck her nose in the air, and managed to bring out every little bit of
pureblood etiquette that she’d been taught with her little sister, Narcissa.
Voldemort chuckled to himself, seeing that Bellatrix viewed Hermione as a rival
for her-- with both her husband and the Dark Lord. Bellatrix’s thoughts were
practically screaming at him she was thinking so loudly. Such a pity she didn’t
retain her brilliantly devious mind from before her incarceration. A loud
shriek of terror and anger broke him out of his train of thought. Looking up
from his plate, Voldemort was amused at the visage of Wormtail cowering, having
dropped the gravy boat on Bellatrix, who was now proceeding to beat him with
her fists and kick at him. Her blows though many, were light with lingering
lack of muscle strength from the 10 years she spent in Azkaban.
“Bella, stop-- you are a witch. If you are displeased, you use your wand.”
Voldemort called over, annoyed at the interruption. But the comment only urged
her on, her fists raining down on the cowering rat.
“Bella, the Dark Lord said stop.” Rabastan, her brother in law, was on his feet
and using an Augamention Bellatrix who started up with an unearthly shriek that
could rival a banshee’s.
“Are you going to listen to your Lord, Bella?” Rabastan growled at the witch
who was crying and desperately trying to get away from the stream of water.
“Yes, yes! The Dark Lord is my master, MY MASTER!” Bella cried and screamed
while Voldemort motioned for the Lestrange brothers to take her away from the
room. Rodolphus stopped at the door briefly and lifted his dark eyes to his
master.
“I’m sorry, my Lord, for the way my wife has behaved. She will be disciplined
and returned to you when you wish to give her your punishment.” Rodolphus
nodded again at Voldemort and followed his brother and wife-- easy to track by
the screaming and shrieking that echoed until they left the current wing of the
house.
“I apologize, we are still rehabilitating some of the former prisoners.”
Voldemort stated succinctly and motioned for everyone to eat again, a non order
that was followed immediately.
 
It was much later, after Luna and Ginny were shown a room for them, next to
Severus and across the hall a suite was symbolically shown to Hermione but she
knew down from the top of her curls to the tips of her toes, she’d be spending
every night in the Dark Lord’s bed. She wasn’t sure if the gods would be on her
side for indulging in copious amounts of sex like they had on Saturnalia; she
was already a little sore from the afternoon’s antics in various positions
around his study. She was sure that they had lots to talk about-- from the fact
there was a false prophecy to the notes he promised to show her on ‘The
Liberation’ as Voldemort jokingly called it, as if he were the bourgeoisie of
Paris and Azkaban the Bastille.
She changed into a new nightgown he’d had made for her: a lovely off-white
confection of semi-sheer silk and strategic ruffles, with matching ribbons that
she tied into her braid to keep her hair tame during the night. Hermione felt
absolutely decadent as she twirled around in it, eagerly intent on on thanking
her Enlil personally, when her door popped open without a knock.
“Oh dear, wrong one. What’s one dessert now versus another later?” Fenrir
Greyback leaned against the doorframe, in his grubby clothes, reeking of body
odor and goodness knew what else. Hermione bit back bile that rose her her
throat.
“No.” She replied, wand still in hand from having used it on her hair. She
leveled her wand at Greyback, who laughed coarsely.
“Sweet, sweet little mudblood. You’ll fuck the Dark Lord but you wont fuck a
real man? Ah but I am more than just a man, I am a wolf and wolves are
dangerous to deny.” Fenrir growled, advancing on her until her wand tip was at
his chest, never wavering.
“Little pixie has spirit. Brave are you? A Gryffindor? Why would the master
want some pathetic pixie like you?” He looked her up and down in the little
nightgown and Hermione felt a hot rage flow through her. This was not for him;
he was not fit to even look upon her in this state.
“Get out now.” Hermione snarled at Greyback, pressing the tip of her wand into
his chest where the superheated tip from the spell she was preparing burnt into
his clothing and stung his chest.
“I don’t think so.” Fenrir Greyback moved to disarm her like one would a child
and Hermione quickly spun away, the DA constant practicing having formed
essential muscle memory for unexpected dueling and fighting.
“Get back here you little fucking slut, before I fuck you back to front and
then I’ll bite your fucking throat out.” Greyback lurched towards her
menacingly and once again, Hermione neatly stepped out of the way, infuriating
the uncontrolled werewolf, only two days from the next full moon. He let out a
furious howl that echoed through the wing of the manor, unintentionally
alerting Severus across the hall and Voldemort in the adjoining suite-- not
that anyone but Hermione knew which bedroom he used. This wing was for his
personal use for when he did not want to be disturbed. Unfortunately, for
Fenrir Greyback, Voldemort was very disturbed when he flew as smoke into the
room and felt the palpable rage emanating from his defensive little witch,
pushing the Dark Lord into a murderous frenzy. He cast curse after dark curse,
twisting and painfully wrenching the werewolf from the inside out, burning him
alive and at last he paused to look again at Hermione whose barely concealed
breasts were heaving heavily.
“Are you alright?” Voldemort twisted his wand vigorously and Greyback let out a
high pitched whine as his eyes rolled back into his head.
“Yes. I am okay.” Hermione nodded. She lifted her wand and chanted an earth
magic spell utilized by metalsmiths to conjure temporary models that she’d read
about in a book. A short, silver brand was soon in her hands, beautifully
engraved with“Mia mágissa Deo dínei tis efcharistíes tis” or ‘A Deo Witch gives
her regards’ in Greek. She stepped forward with it in her hands and offered it
to Voldemort, who took it and inspected it, before clasping her hands around
it. Voldemort released his spells on Greyback and immobilised him before
Greyback could even roll over and spit out the blood dribbling from his mouth.
“You are lucky Greyback. My little witch has decided to mete out judgement for
your actions.” Voldemort grinned nastily at his servant whom his master could
hear screaming and cussing in his own mind while the petite witch came towards
him with the silver brand. Without warning Hermione struck out, catching Fenrir
at the neck and pressing it in as the skin hissed and burbled nastily. The
brand had to subsequently be torn off, coming away with a sick squelch of
rotting, necrotic flesh and the disgusting accompanying smell of long-decaying
meat. The black flesh twisted elegantly into the words, Hermione’s neat
handwriting clearly visible.
“She was kind to you, Fenrir Greyback. Kiss your Lady’s feet for her mercy.”
Voldemort lifted his immobilizing spell and Greyback promptly was sick all over
himself and passed out from the pain.
“Well, just as good as-- I didn’t want him coming any closer to me as it was
much less kissing any part of my body.” Hermione shuddered, vanishing the vomit
that had gotten on the floor and banishing the smell that accompanied werewolf
flesh meeting pure silver. Voldemort levitated the body to the corridor and
sent for Wormtail, securing a ward on his witch’s room and bringing her to his
room. He nodded to Severus who had hastily thrown on clothes and clearly
awaiting orders.
“You may go back to your witches and keep them company, Severus. Greyback will
surely have learned his lesson from our witch.” Voldemort dismissed the clearly
relieved Severus who slunk back into his room.
“I am sorry little witch, for his actions. But I do not deny that I would have
murdered him had you not decided your own judgement.” Voldemort said, leading
Hermione to sit on the bed. There were only a few functional pieces of
furniture in the room; a wardrobe, a nightstand and the bed. Nothing was overly
ornate, just simple pieces of high quality. Hermione was finding out that was
who her lover was: A man of simple tastes who also kept up a public image for
others to make his quest for power easier.
“I was so angry. I rarely get that righteously angry. Sometimes when faced with
the Pink Toad, I wonder how I manage, so I guess I would not always keep my
temper controlled.” Hermione responded, tucking her feet under her. She
accepted the glass of port that her lover offered her.
“And yet, you left him alive with a life-debt you can use, Hermione. Do not
forget that. What you see as harsh, was merciful towards him.” Voldemort sat
next to her on the bed, sipping his own glass of the sweet red wine.
“That does seem as odd to me, but that would be the difference between your
world and mine, and the experiences I still lack.” Hermione gazed into her
glass, chewing absent minded on her lower lip. Voldemort lowered his head to
hers, enjoying the warmth of her neck against his cool skin.
“Not entirely. You have much to grow and learn, but everyone grows and learns
throughout their lives. It is simply a different aspect of the world than you
are used to-- I used the easiest to manipulate in order to gain power, but that
also means that many of my associates, the easiest to manipulate, come from the
dregs of society in addition to the extreme upper class. I catered to the
purebloods and made everyone else just think that’s what they wanted because it
gave me power over them all and placed me at the very top where I wanted, and
still want to be,” Voldemort continued.
“It makes sense, though the Purebloods have a history of viciousness towards
anyone not of entirely pure blood. I’m amazed you overcame that, and during the
reign of Grindlewald as well.” Hermione murmured, trying to keep her breath
steady with the Dark Lord’s lithe form curled about her, his presence much more
intoxicating than the wine they sipped.
“Power is might. With the blood of Slytherin a given, a Merope Gaunt being
listed as my mother on my birth certificate, the ability to speak parseltongue
combined with raw magical talent and being a very good student, I was able to
intimidate many and eventually formed my plans with the Knights of Walpurgis.”
Voldemort shrugged. The Knights of Walpurgis, he’d previously wrote Hermione,
was his group of followers that eventually morphed into the Death Eaters as he
extended his influence from the scions of the Pureblood elite to downtrodden
magical beings of all kinds.
“However, I don’t think the beginnings of my reach for power was what you
wished to discuss most, Little Witch. My ancestor deemed me worthy enough to
hear your prophecy as well, and I assume you have come to the conclusion that
one is fake?” Voldemort sat back up straighter, sipping his wine.
“Oh, yes. Actually, Harry came to that conclusion. I dropped Divination my 3rd
year. Yelled at Professor Trelawney and everything. Stormed out even.” Hermione
blushed deeply as she made her confession.
“Divination is not for everyone. Each element type of magical affiliation has
their own predilections for specific types of divination. However, Severus has
commented on her drunkenness and incompetence at least once a year for the
fifteen odd years he’s worked at Hogwarts.” Voldemort chuckled pulling Hermione
closer against him.
“Has he?” Hermione asked, amused.
“Oh yes, and Lucius informed me that Severus logged at least one complaint
about her per year while I was… disembodied.” Voldemort found himself nuzzling
her hair, a fluffy cloud of curls that smelt of sage and verbena. A telling
combination if one thought of the old fashioned meanings of flowers, Voldemort
mused, thinking upon the etiquette he read up on in his youth. The lemony
fragrance of verbena, of youth and protection, of peace and healing, mingled
with the herbal scent of sage, of wisdom and immortality-- his little witch
would be his Amortentia if he brewed it.
“Little Witch, I need you” he murmured in her ear, making her shudder with a
thrill a pleasure.
“Do you now?” Hermione preened under her Enlil’s attention. Sometimes she felt
awfully young in his arms, but he seemed to enjoy that, her innocent exploring,
her not-so-innocent enjoyment as he taught her about her body and let her
explore her desires.
“I’ve discovered a critical flaw in my rebirthing spell, and with the initial
spell performed sub-par so close to Beltane, I became this instead of my former
self.” Voldemort continued to hold her and caress her.
“And if I do this ritual with you, will you be balanced by the Equinox? By
grounding yourself in the Olde Ways, you pledge yourself to them for life.”
Hermione rocked back and forth slightly, her lover’s embrace growing warmer as
she tried to relieve some of the pressure building in her. Small kisses were
dropped on her delicate neck-- much too easy to break or snap, Voldemort
thought with a slight pang.
“Yes, my sweet one. If we lay together in a runic circle where the ley lines
cross, I can anchor myself firmly in life, within you, balancing out the uneven
spell. It was meant to be earth magic, but I had no followers skilled enough
with it. I composed the spell in Parseltongue, which also must have impacted it
when it was cast in modern English.” Voldemort began rubbing circles on
Hermione’s scalp as he fisted his hands in her curls, demanding a kiss.
Hermione moaned with sensual delight.
“Why me, Voldemort?” Hermione looked up into his crimson eyes, calling him by
the name he preferred but she would not use. It made him stop in his seduction.
“Because you, Little Witch, are strong enough in earth magic. Because you know
who I am, behind it all. Because you are you, Hermione. You are a Deo, you push
me to reconsider and re-evaluate long-laid plans. Challenge me, Hermione.”
Voldemort bit lightly on her earlobe, surprising Hermione with how much she
liked it.
“What if my prophecy is false? What if it’s yours that is true?” Hermione
trembled slightly, wondering what her lover might do.
“It can’t be-- the blood magic that protected Harry Potter was performed by his
mother. Severus was very fond of her, but estranged. I would not put it past
Dumbledore to have instructed her to perform it. Blood magic is uncommon, and
has been since the 16th century. Much of the research has been lost, but the
ultimate protection of a child through sacrifice was not. It was initially
created to save children during war and raiding-- when a mother would very
likely sacrifice everything for her children.” Voldemort drew back from
Hermione thoughtfully, his arm securing itself around her waist, keeping
Hermione and her scent close.
“So I am, what, the Chosen One now?” Hermione asked.
“No my dear, you are Hermione. Of all the things you are, the summation will
always be you.” Voldemort kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking out hers.
Hermione groaned with want.
“Is that what you really want, me? I don’t understand.” Hermione trembled, but
this time from her lover’s caresses. Her brain was too overwhelmed with
physical pleasure that her thoughts had become fuzzy and distant. She knew she
wasn’t thinking clearly enough to converse intelligently.
“I’ve only ever wanted one thing, Hermione: Power. I made myself into what I
envisioned would give me endless glory and power, only to find that I was my
own unmaking. I pledged my spirit to you; I would not have done so if I hadn’t
wanted you.” Voldemort continued his tender caresses, interspersed with quick
 nips and light tugs that made her slick with desire.
“I am power to you?” Hermione rose to her knees on the bed, so that she was
taller than Voldemort, looking down with her hands balled on her hips. She
wasn’t angry, she was so turned on… but this conversation was important. Where
did she stand with this man, a man who was so clearly not what he projected.
“You are, to my own surprise, everything. A witch, a Deo, and my confident. I
do not tell others what we share in our diaries.” He murmured, running his
hands up her legs, slowly gathering up the hem of her nightgown.
“Oh Enlil,” Hermione gasped, her breath quickening. “You are my confident as
well. I don’t know what I would do without your conversation.” She lifted her
arms for him to raise the nightgown over her head, revealing the matching
knickers that were now mostly transparent with how drenched she was.
“My dear Little Witch, you should have mentioned something before” Voldemort
chuckled, a fingertip grazing the wet silk that stuck to her skin.
“You tease, Enlil” Hermione started unbuttoning his robes.
“I take great pleasure in it.” He growled, holding her hips to keep her steady
on her knees, before burying his face between her thighs. His tongue flickered
out, and he tested and tasted and teased the unyielding silk that covered his
young consort’s juicy cunt. Hermione threw her head back with a cry of
surprise, enraptured with the close physicality of her lover. He wanted power
and he wanted her. She felt divine as he worshiped her, his mouth and his
steadying hands all she could feel until she felt such an unbearable pressure
on top of her impending pleasure.
“En--Enlil--I, I can’t--” Hermione stammered as Voldemort quickened his pace,
his tongue working the wet-roughened silk against her clit. “I can’t, I have to
pee--” Hermione panicked but steady hands calmed her and coaxed her pleasure.
“Please, I-- I can’t come.” Hermione was practically vibrating as she quivered
uncontrollably.
“You can and you will” came a very muffled answer from below, as her panties
were shoved down and the puff of cool air against her swollen clit suddenly
tipped her over the edge. Hermione screamed with the blinding pressure of her
own pleasure, Voldemort still licking and sucking and even slurping.
“I didn’t-- you know--?” Hermione asked, still on very shaky knees being
supported by his hands on her hips, nightgown tossed to the room and her golden
skin gleaming in the candlelight of the room. He looked up at her, his own
personal goddess to bind himself.
“No, you did not urinate. You had a very spectacular orgasm.” Voldemort looked
ridiculously pleased with himself as he looked up at her, his hands again
moving on her thighs and hips. “You are so beautiful, Hermione.”
“Kiss me, and then fuck me. I can’t-- I need--” Hermione swayed before putting
her hands on his shoulders.
“I will obey.” Voldemort grinned mischievously before pushing her down on the
bed, banishing his robes and pouncing on her, no part of their bodies untouched
by the other.
 
 
Several floors and an entire wing away, his faithful Death Eaters huddled
amongst themselves in the second sitting room. Fenrir Greyback staggered in,
the smell of rotting flesh clinging to him.
“Rabastan, you have the steadiest hands, help this poor bastard.” Rodolphus
Lestrange  motioned from his armchair for his brother to tend to the
unhealthily pale werewolf in the doorway.
“Hold his head, Rod-- it’s his neck, ya see--” Rabastan pointed out the brand
and the decayed flesh that would soon spread. The dead flesh would have to be
cut out.
“Fine, bring him over here. Need a seat, Rabby?” Rodolphus pulled a ottoman
under a lamp and Rabastan shuffled the barely conscious Greyback over.
“Who did it? The Dark Lord?” Bella whispered, peeking from behind her mess of
black matted curls.
“Mudblood. Fucking Mudblood bitch.” Fenrir groaned as he was plied with
firewhiskey. They didn’t have any pain relieving potions and no one wanted to
bother the Dark Lord. He seemed different than they remembered, but they’d
never spent so long in the same location as him before. The Dark Lord was a
solitary man who ruled over them, not some mudblood fucking traitor.
“Okay, Rod, hold tight. Not sure how much this will hurt, Greyback, so chew on
this” Rabastan stuck a leather shoe in the werewolf’s mouth, while Rodolphus
held Greyback’s head so that Rabastan had access.
“Hey Bella, you still have that knife?” Rabastan looked up from examining the
wound.
“Clean it and give it RIGHT BACK.” Bella flounced out of her chair, dropped a
dagger in its sheath on his lap.
“Yes, Bella.” Rabastan replied automatically, his mind already at the task at
hand. It was a phrase that was on… ‘A Deo Witch Gives Her Regards,’ in Greek.
Rabastan hesitated.
“What are you waiting for Rabby?” Rodolphus whispered angrily, Greyback semi-
unconscious between them.
“She isn’t a mudblood, Rod. The bitch is a fucking Deo.” Rabastan said, slicing
into Fenrir Greyback’s neck, debriding the flesh so it could heal properly.
Only the gentle curves of the lettering showed that wound to be different from
the multitude of other scars, from fighting and hunting as a wolf.
 
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