Unjust Peace

A/N
Nerys and Serp beta-ed the chapter, after trying to hide from me for a whole day! I wonder why?...cries..So, send them cakes, not cookies this time.
Nerys also did the i and b...Somehow she picks the chapters with less italic and bold text...Sneaky!

Chapter 10
xxxxxxxxxxx

Empty road, some bushes nearby, no pedestrians and no cars—that was all Voldemort could see while walking towards the city with an angry Mudblood trailing behind him.

At least she stopped her insane muttering, Voldemort thought, moving faster simply to annoy the damn Granger wench.

Hermione Granger was beyond pissed. Never in her entire life had anyone managed to drive her to that state of maddening annoyance and frustration. That damn-him-to-hell Lord Voldemort managed to destroy all the working gas stations, thus making it impossible to fuel the car. And while Hermione sneaked around, leaving him alone just for five minutes, that moron managed to fuel the car. With 95 petrol. Which he found in some huge canister that appeared out of nowhere.

Now, they couldn't even start the car without blowing up the engine, and Voldemort actually had the nerve to blame Hermione for everything he had done.

Rubbing her still sore cheek, Hermione thought back to the moment Voldemort actually lost it and hit her. She hit him back as always, but it still hurt.

"Nooooo!" Hermione shrieked when she saw the amused Dark Lord filling the diesel truck with 95 petrol.

"Stupid Mudblood," he muttered gleefully, while adding more and more 95 petrol to a car that needed only diesel. "Lord Voldemort always succeeds, while Mudbloods always fail".

Understanding the implication of using petrol instead of diesel, Hermione couldn't hold the frustration inside her any longer.

"You are a donkey! A stupid, bigoted donkey with monkey brains!" Hermione shrieked at the somewhat astonished Dark Lord.

What the fuck, Voldemort thought, looking at the approaching Mudblood who resembled an angry lion under some crazy potion's influence. He did what he knew was right. He'd found some shitty canister with "Fuel" written on it and emptied it into the car. He'd done something useful, unlike that rat's bush who merely eyed the entire neighborhood as if she was looking for a place to rent.

"First, you drugged us and made me do filthy, disgusting things. Then, you bring that damned riddle box that took us here, where we have Death, not some fluffy rabbit, but Death trailing behind us and playing games, while taking our magic away!" Hermione took a deep breath and before Voldemort could interrupt her, she went on, "You took the driving seat and drove like the madman you actually are, all the while killing huge amount of people who did nothing to you. And then, you destroyed our last chance to get to that unknown city where we could at least find some clues about our whereabouts!"

Now, because of that moron who called himself the Dark Lord, they were walking by foot with sore cheeks, and it seemed to Hermione they had a long journey ahead before they reached the city.

Voldemort caught sight of something furry in the dark bushes, and it looked rather familiar, almost exactly like the one that appeared when he whacked that shiny car with a family of three with his now unreachable toy.

Howling.

Both Voldemort and Hermione shivered as they thought of that same creature, lurking somewhere in the dark.

Not a werewolf, please, Hermione begged silently.

Two hours later, they were still walking, and Hermione felt ready to drop dead. She was beyond tired. She had a feeling that Voldemort wouldn't mind resting as well; however, she was sure he would never admit it.
Just as Hermione was about to open her mouth and express her feelings, bright headlights illuminated the road: another lonely car was moving their way.

Both Voldemort and Hermione tried to get a ride to the city, but none of the few passing cars stopped to help them.

Hermione wondered what exactly stopped the drivers from giving them a lift: Voldemort's outfit, Voldemort's spooky red eyes shining in the dark that made him resemble the devil (which he was), or Voldemort in total.

She tried to kick him into the bushes so that she could be the one to catch the eyes of the drivers, but Voldemort was Voldemort and shoved her into the bushes, stating that her hair blended well with the nature.

So, all the cars that passed by either just sped up when they saw the Mighty Lord in a dark cloak with shining red eyes, or started swaying on the road, trying to drive as far away from them as possible.

For a second, Hermione thought that she should've let Voldemort smash the whole damn city with his toy. Damn uncooperative Americans just leaving them stranded. However, when a brand-new Ferrari stopped a few steps ahead of them, Hermione felt relieved she hadn't.

Finally, someone to help them out! Hermione thought happily, getting into the car just after Voldemort who was the first to climb right into the front passenger's seat.

A very handsome man sat in the driver's seat: neat blond hair, green eyes and a nice smile.

"So, fellows, lost, eh?"

He also had a very nice voice, Hermione decided. And before her companion could destroy their only chance of getting out of here, Hermione started a conversation with the man.

"Thank you so much, sir. Our car broke down," (here, she glared at Voldemort's back), "and we couldn't get out of here," Hermione answered sincerely. "For some reason, no one would stop and give us a ride. Would you maybe know why? Is there something wrong with this place?" Or one of us, she sneered mentally.

"Nothing is wrong, darling. Just some stupid motherfuckers who don't care about others, I guess," the stranger replied and even smirked for a second.

Voldemort, who'd kept quiet for so long (for him that is), decided to interrupt, staring with his spooky eyes at the young man. "And you are not a motherfucker then? Why did you stop?"

Here we go again, Hermione thought, annoyed. Even without his magic, in a world of the unknown, Voldemort still managed to pull off his "Dark Lordish" persona. Demanding, giving orders, killing …

When he looked back at Voldemort and then at Hermione, there was something in the stranger's eyes that caught both Voldemort's and Hermione's attention, something weird: calculating, knowing, and mischievous at the same time.

"Neeh, I am a good guy. Plus, such a lovely couple," (the stranger ignored the double shiver of disgust from his new companions at that word), "out here, all alone …Naah, can't have that, can we? I am A Derision's Moo Rum Yon, after all!"

Dear Merlin, another psycho, Hermione thought in desperation.

Dear Salazar, another moronic Muggle. Voldemort gritted his teeth and vowed to show Death what it meant to piss off a Dark Lord. He needed a Crucio, just one, just a tiny little Crucio. Pretty pleeeease?

Maybe two, he thought, glancing at the worried Mudblood.

"Ah, emm … what a nice name," Hermione finally managed to blurt out, while Voldemort just snorted in derision.

"I am Hermione Granger and this is…" at Voldemort's name Hermione paused, not sure how to call him here.

"Lord Voldemort," the Dark Lord deadpanned without even blinking.

"Cool name, Lordy! Nice to meet y'all!" The stranger reacted as if he'd expected to hear that and not some "John Smith."

"So, Moo Rum, where is the nearest city?" the Dark Lord asked mockingly, as if he were talking to a retard.

The stranger with the weird name smirked.

"There are three cities nearby. Which one do you need?"

While Hermione thought about what options they had, Voldemort managed to piss the driver off for a while with his normal "Voldemortish" reply.

"Lord Voldemort does not need anything, moron."

All Hermione had left to do was: roll her eyes and smack the seat of the smart-ass.

The car was going around 100 km/hour at that point and this driver, unlike somebody else, could navigate the car without a problem.

In the rear mirrors, a light appeared. Voldemort and Hermione looked back to see a flashy Mercedes closing the distance. Even though Voldemort knew nothing about cars, he didn't like the sign on this one, which looked like it marked a target up ahead. And He was the only one allowed doing any targeting. Plus, all they'd seen before were some shitty trucks (like theirs had been), but here they had two brand-new cars: one black Ferrari and one red Mercedes. He remembered the brand names, because the Mudblood kept rambling about them, while he was driving.

Something was off, it was clear to both the Dark Lord and Hermione Granger. Yet, it did not seem to disturb their new driver.

"Emm. Mr. Moor Rum Yon," Hermione started tentatively. "It just might be my imagination, but isn't there a Mercedes just behind us, as if trying to catch us? I know I sound paranoid, but…"

"Ah, no worries, my darling Hermione. You are not paranoid, as there is indeed a car chasing after us," the stranger answered calmly as if stating that was an every day event. Well, maybe it was in this crazy realm of rising suns?

"So you know who is driving that car?" Voldemort inquired. Dammit, all they needed was another shit-head chasing after them. They already had Death, thank you very much, and it was more than enough.

The silence in the car was interrupted by a loud tune coming from the driver's mobile phone, where an ugly old trashcan was displayed as the caller's picture.

"Hello, hello baby you called?
I can't hear a thing
I have got no service
In the club, you see, see"

When the driver didn't even make a move to take the call, the two passengers were forced to listen to the continuation of the tune selected for that specific caller. A persistent caller, it seemed.

"Stop callin', stop callin',
I don't wanna think anymore!
I left my head and my heart on the dance floor."

Hermione thought the tune was great and the singer really resembled the one they had to listen to for several hours non-stop.

The driver did not seem to notice the vibrating mobile device that was now screaming a loud tune.

"Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Stop telephonin' me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
I'm busy!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Stop telephonin' me!
Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh"

"Will you just pick up that damn thing, or are your deaf?" Voldemort had to scream to overpower the noise level.

The stranger just groaned and picked up the phone.

"Is that you, bitch? What the hell?" Voldemort and Hermione heard a female voice roaring into the phone.

Hermione felt sorry for the young man; maybe it was his girlfriend or bride?

Voldemort merely smirked.

"Can't hear youuuuu," Mr. Moor Yon sang back into the mobile phone, annoyingly pronouncing all the words in a sing-song voice.

"I know you can hear me, you old shit! What the hell are you doing? I told you before, they are ..."

"I can't hear a thing. Stop telephoning me!" The driver shouted back and pressed the "Power Off" button on the phone. "So, where were we? Ah, yes. The driver of the Mercedes. It's an old friend, you could say, of mine." At the word "friend," the stranger grimaced. "Annoying bitch, if you ask me. Always asking things she shouldn't be asking. And then, she even tries to mock me, can you imagine that?" Mr. Moor Rum Yon continued, amused.

"Oh yes, I can imagine that," Voldemort and Hermione said at the same time.

Voldemort was thinking that this bitch in the red Mercedes resembled the Mudblood, while Hermione was sure a clone of Voldemort was behind the wheel. Hermione's choice seemed more viable since the Mercedes didn't mind hitting things … or people.

Their driver just smiled at them knowingly. He didn't seem concerned at all. So, the Ferrari kept speeding towards the towns with the Mercedes trailing behind, unable to catch up.

Hermione was sipping some orange juice that Mr. Rum Yon had offered her before he decided to continue their conversation.

"Newlyweds?" the stranger inquired merrily.

Voldemort, who was eating an apple, choked on it; Hermione had juice in her nose after her coughing fit.

"I guess not," their driver continued in the same, irritating upbeat tone of voice. "Friends?"

After another violent coughing fit in which both of them nearly suffocated, Voldemort and Hermione came to the conclusion that someone was having fun on their behalf.

"Oh, well, we all have our secrets, don't we?" The stranger winked at them.

Too much fun.

Voldemort had always believed and relied on his intuition, and now it was screaming at him. Something was very wrong.

"Sooo … What city?" their driver asked when the car arrived at a crossroad and stopped. Three roads were visible up ahead, all of them heading into different directions.

The Dark Lord and Hermione both looked at the names of the cities they could choose from, while a red Mercedes merrily became bigger in the rear-view mirror: "A Bedside Wept Hills," "Pathway Biped Hell" or "Ethicise Unholy Link Woos Woo" .

When Hermione started to resemble an owl with huge unblinking eyes, Voldemort shook her.

"What is it, Mudb…Hermione?" the Dark Lord demanded to know, after Hermione kept staring at the signs. Also, he decided to refer to her as Hermione as long as they were accompanied by someone strange. The Dark Lord was not paranoid. Never. He was cautious. Yes, that was it: cau-ti-ous. You never knew where Death could be hiding. He was sure that bitch was watching them closely.

Hermione finally came back to the real world after another major shake coming from Voldemort and turned to the driver, who was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and glaring at the rear-view mirror at the same time.

"I thought we were in Texas, USA. Right?" Hermione asked, still trying to process the names of the cities. Never, not even in the wizarding world, had she heard such names like these.

"Well, yes, we are, Hermione. Why?" the stranger asked in calm voice, but even Hermione could hear the erupting laughter coming from inside him.

So, it was only natural that a certain someone else was clenching his fists, trying to control his temper, wishing for three Crucios. Only three. He didn't need any more. Just three. Three wonderful, nice, relaxing Crucios. One for insipid Death, one for obnoxious Mudblood and one for Moobly Oobly Something. A deep sigh left the Dark Lord's throat.

Three Crucios wasn't too much to ask, was it? he considered as one obnoxious target was speaking again.

"The names. It is impossible to have such names in Texas. Where are we?" Now Hermione was really suspicious.

"We are in Texas, Hermione Jean," Mr. Moor Rum Yon replied. "Words mean little, it's the meaning behind them that means everything," he continued, glancing at Voldemort.

Hermione's and the Dark Lord's gazes connected for a second before focusing on the stranger.

"And also, you should remember that not only words open the souls but numbers as well." The stranger continued his puzzled speech under scrutinizing glares from both travelers.

Being seated in the back of the car, Hermione just had to stretch out her hand, while Voldemort, seated in the front, just had to find the correct moment.

"Plus, you should trust the Dark from time to time, Hermione. It may help you out."

"It may help you out," Hermione answered calmly, before quickly stretching forward and opening the driver's door from behind.

"Out!" Voldemort barked and shoved the stranger out of the car with his foot.

It took mere seconds for Voldemort to take the driver's seat and Hermione to fasten her seatbelt, before they were speeding towards the city that they both liked the most: "Ethicise Unholy Link Woos Woo".

It seemed that having an automatic transmission car made Voldemort a great driver.

xxxxx

The stranger stood up from the ground just in time for the red Mercedes to stop a hair's width away from his pants.

A beautiful female slammed the door shut and marched towards the rugged man.

"I knew it! I felt something was wrong. I should've known from the beginning you were going to meddle. I knew it! And you, you bitch, also knew it!" she screamed non-stop, frustrated beyond imagination.

It was her domain, and she ruled it. But nooooo, that bitch had to come and meddle with her plans. Now, both her toys were moving towards the direction of the exit, and thanks to whom? Yes, her. Or him, as she was a he at the moment.

Death glared at Fate before marching back to the car and driving away.

I like my long skirts better, Fate thought amused, while scratching her butt. Voldemort's a pain in the ass for sure, and Hermione's no better. Still, I got them working together: Fate rules!

Fate finally changed back to her favorite look - an old lady in a long skirt - and took out an old notebook from her pocket. Opening the notebook on the"Will Get" list, Fate happily put two pluses near two lonely names on the page:

"Hermione Jean Granger" +
"Tom Marvolo Riddle" +

xxxxx

"Who the hell was it? Was it her?" Hermione asked the Dark Lord as soon as they sped away from the weird guy.

If it were a person at all, Hermione thought angrily. Damn realm with damn rules.

For some reason, after kicking the stranger out of his car, Hermione and the Dark Lord seemed to get along much better. Both Hermione and Voldemort saw how effective their combined efforts could be. Plus, they couldn't get separated if they wanted to escape a "dementorish," as Hermione started to refer to it, future.

It was a hard deal, but a deal nevertheless. They were a team whilst being in the House of the Rising Sun. And after they got out of there …? Well, it all depended on where they found themselves next.

No escaping some Crucios, Hermione thought angrily, while Voldemort thought the same but on a happy note.

"No, it wasn't Death. I can smell the bitch. It was something else," Voldemort replied, pressing the accelerator. This car was much easier to navigate, and he liked it, even though he hadn't managed to cause havoc with it … yet.

"Something else that knew my middle name," Hermione added bitterly. "What is wrong with this reality? We have Death chasing after us, some red Mercedes with possibly more morons inside, and then, it, that knows everything and talks in riddles. Trust the Dark, Hermione," she mimicked the stranger.

Voldemort smirked. He actually enjoyed the Mudblood's sharp tongue when it was not directed at him. And he also had a feeling he knew which moron was inside that red Mercedes, but he so wasn't sharing that with Babble Granger. Not in case he was wrong—of course not, since Dark Lords were never wrong—no, because Lord Voldemort just didn't share anything.

Period.

Suddenly, the Dark Lord saw a shape in the bushes, and it seemed to be the exact one that had been howling, and now, it was chasing after them. It appeared to be a hobby of the people living in this place: following him.

Not that he wasn't used to that. Just not in this manner.

The Dark Lord already knew what he was going to do, but just for the fun of it, he decided to ask the Mudblood.

"Granger, we have a wolf or a werewolf trailing after us. What do you suggest, partner?" he asked mockingly.

"A what? Not that, please," Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance, "and why would it chase after us?"

"Ah. It may have something to do with the 'Three-for-one' accident," Voldemort tragically pronounced.

"Which one?" A tired reply was all he got from the Mudblood.

"What? No ranting, mumbling, screaming about me killing somebody?" The Dark Lord was genially intrigued now. Funny Mudblood.

"What's the point? It's the same as telling the dog not to bark. No, wait. That would actually be more successful."

A really funny Mudblood. Maybe not everything was lost yet?

"So, my way or my way?" the Dark Lord more stated than asked, while moving the car closer to the bushes.

Ferrari versus werewolf? This was a sport's car, not a Hummer with a cow rack at front. Now Hermione was certain He was overconfident. As if she didn't have enough proof of that before. She recalled several of his overly complicated, failing schemes in the past and could barely hold in a condescending snigger.

"Just do it already."

Hermione Granger hated Voldemort and hated killing, but this damned reality was not normal. Better off without any werewolves, Deaths, or whatever they had chasing after them, if the car survived the crash. She knew there was no point in informing Mr. Petrol-Is-Better-Than-Diesel-Enthusiast of this. So, Hermione decided not to bother looking at the target, too busy reading a booklet left by Moosie Woosie Something. Besides, she could care less at the moment, as they were in a Ferrari with a crumple zone, airbags, roll bar, seatbelts, and other safety features—luxuries a werewolf did not have.

"Hmmm... It says Hold 'em Up," Hermione read out loud to Voldemort, who now had the target locked. "It's a version of Poker, and for some reason, that thing left it here, opened on the page labeled 'Best escapes from reality.'"

At that, Hermione glared at Voldemort, annoyed at the crash that interrupted her thoughts and the swaying the car did afterwards. She couldn't read like that. She'd get nauseated. Stupid Lords should move in a straight line while driving.

Smash. There. No more creepy wolves, Voldemort thought, amused.

So much for the nice paint job and the left headlight, Hermione thought, less amused.

An elegant lady in red Mercedes, that was catching up with the travelers yet maintained a discrete distance behind some truck, also happily hummed. Minus one shifter-pedophile. Death really could not understand how Voldemort managed to kill all those she was after. Maybe he was supposed to take over and become Death? At that thought, she shivered…

No, thank you very much. He was creepy and dangerous as hell enough without her kind of power.

She had to catch them before they escaped, since she was not sure if they were going to stay in the realms of the House of the Rising Sun. But where to stop them? Those two could very well get back home, especially since that bitch Fate had been giving them a lift. Fortunately, the fools had kicked out the "help," so Death felt she was back in the game. Winning. As always. As she should be.

"As I was saying," Hermione continued as if never interrupted by a hit-and-run, "it says, 'Best escapes from reality.' Do you think it means the exit?"

Hermione was biting her lip to stop the excitement she felt. They could have found the way out! Everywhere was better than here, she decided. Even with Voldemort ruling, it was a better world than this shithole. Not much, but enough. At least there, he was the only irritating smug bastard.

"What else does it say?" Voldemort steadied the car on the road, now picking the correct lane, since he did not fancy walking to a city again.

"Let's see… There are marks." Hermione jumped in her seat, making Voldemort—the almighty driver—sway to the left.

"What?" he barked at the exited Hermione.

"It says, 'Go to Can Road Sing and let the dark play.' What the hell is that suppose to mean?" Hermione shrieked. "Let the dark play?"

"Whatever it was that we met, it was on our side, Mudblood," Voldemort replied after being quiet for some time.

"Why?"

"The name. His name. I've been thinking it over and over, and it's an anagram," Voldemort answered, all the while scouting for pedestrians. "Like myself—I know you know, so be quiet—he used an anagram. Since I am smarter than you and used the spare time usefully instead of barking up the wrong tree, I thought how the letters arranged themselves, and I found the meaning he was talking about. Do you remember his full name, Granger?"

Hermione rubbed her face and tiredly recalled the moronic name the stranger gave them.

"A Derision's Moo Rum Yon," Hermione answered, once again proving to Voldemort that she was indeed a worthy toy, or partner here. Though, he wasn't planning on using the latter word anywhere else but here and only for some time anyway.

"Rearrange the letters and you'll get 'I am on your side, morons.' Whatever it was, it called us morons, so I suppose it wasn't really that smart." Especially the nerve of that thing … calling him a moron, the audacity! Maybe four Crucios wasn't too much to hope for? Two for that—that … whatever it was. Yesss, two very long, extended Crucios.

Hermione was quite annoyed that Voldemort managed to solve the puzzle so quickly and, more importantly, faster than she could even think about it, but she did respect the man for his genius mind. His crazy, motherfucking, twisted, genius mind. No wonder he solved the stupid puzzle before her—it took one to know one.

"What else then?" Hermione asked quickly. Yet, before the Dark Lord could open his mouth to reply, she interrupted him with a loud shriek. "The towns!"

Hermione grabbed a pencil and paper and wrote the names down. After getting annoyingly stupid answers, she finally got two correct ones and showed them to Voldemort.

'A Bedside Wept Hills' - Death will be pissed
'Pathway Biped Hell' - Death will be happy

"Where the hell did we go to?" Hermione asked nervously, wondering what else insane Death "will be." Over the moon with joy? Sad? Emo? A new person? Crying? Furious? She had no idea, since she was unable to solve the last anagram. She had never tried creating ones, so it was difficult to solve them as well; it took a "practised eye" to get the answer quickly and effortlessly.

Voldemort smoothly managed to park the car in the middle of the road, not bothering to drive to the designated areas. Quietly, he stared at the last town's name: the one where they were heading.

He groaned. No way in hell! What was this damned place? Some kind of let's-play-and-fuck-around-with-HIS-almighty-persona realm?

"What?" Hermione asked very carefully, seeing his reaction.

The Dark Lord wished for the millionth time that he had a working wand, or just wandless magic, so he could beautifully spell it out to the Mudblood, since apparently, he had to for every brainless Gryffindor out there.

"It says 'Ethicise Unholy Link Woos Woo,' which means: I know you will choose this one."

Hermione felt a cold shiver run down her spine. What the hell? Not possible. However, considering where they were … So, she did the same thing as Voldemort. She groaned.

xxxxx

They were finally in the city. Now, all they had to do was find Can Road Sing, which in fact was Grand Casino. Hermione proudly proclaimed herself the winner on that one, since Voldemort was seconds behind.

Standing near the entrance to the casino, Hermione remembered the words the strange it told her: "Trust the dark." What was she supposed to do? "Trust the dark" as in bet on black or on the delusional, in-desperate-need-of-psycho-analysing wonder standing next to her? And numbers?

A male voice echoed through the casino, making both Hermione and Voldemort grimace.

"And now, our final round of the competition! The ones who last the longest win! We are counting the minutes, everyone, so be prepared!" the voice boomed.

The crowd cheered loudly in response.

Idiotic, too happy Muggles, the lot of them, the Dark Lord decided. As if they stand a chance against ME in whatever the hell this competition is.

Hermione's analytical mind came to a horrible conclusion when she looked around. Oh no. No, no, no, no. Happy couples, happy couples, and again, happy couples. No, no, no, no, no. This couldn't possibly be … No, no, no, no, no. Happy couples embraced each other, and Hermione dropped her head and groaned when she realised it was indeed:

A kissing competition.

"For fuck's sake." She heard Voldemort proclaim before she felt his arms around her waist.

"No, no, no," Hermione ranted non-stop. She was so not going to enter a competition that entailed her kissing Voldemort for minutes if not hours.

"No, no, no, no."

Numbers. Trust the dark, Hermione heard an echo of the words said by the stranger. So, she had to trust the Dark Lord to kiss her to oblivion? Definitely not.

"No, no, no, no."

And because the Dark Lord always responded extremely kind, considerate and with other people's feelings in mind, no it was.

Yeah, riiiight, think again.

"No, no, no, normmmm."

When she felt his lips on her own, sucking and pulling, Hermione decided she could always hit him for ignoring her wishes later. Because she definitely didn't want to do this. No sireee. She was only accommodating him because she had a competition to win. And she wanted out of this shithole. Yep, that was it. Nothing else. It wasn't like he was a good kisser. No, that definitely had nothing to do with the matter. Nothing at all.

xxxxx

Death slammed her head on the steering wheel of her Mercedes when she saw her toys kissing. They found an escape, but not from the House of the Rising Sun. They were only going to another world, thank heaven. Another one of her worlds, Death thought happily and turned the radio on.

Fate smiled in satisfaction. Good, they had chosen another world. A more "Fateful" world. Very good indeed.

xxxxx

A white light illuminated the two kissing figures that appeared out of nowhere in the small village. As soon as they landed, the Dark Lord and Hermione stepped away from each other as if stung by a bee and looked around.

They could feel it. Oh joy! Magic was there. Hermione just knew what was coming next. However, before Voldemort pulled his wand out, several wands were pointed directly at them.

"What are you doing on the Dark Lord's property?" one of the masked men demanded.

The Dark Lord? Finally, I am somewhere home, Voldemort thought, relieved.

"What Dark Lord?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

Voldemort glared at her for being so stupid, since naturally, there was only one true Dark Lord in existence in the entire universe and beyond. But when he heard the answer, he wished he was back in their last dimension.

"Lord Threats Major Pyre, of course," the masked figure answered.

An abrupt hiss came from Voldemort.

Hermione turned her head in surprise. "You know him?" she whispered quietly. She'd never heard of any major pyre threats before, be that lords or otherwise.

"Yes, I know him, and you do, too," Voldemort hissed before continuing. "That little shit couldn't even create his own name. Had to use my technique, that little sneaky fuck."

"Who?" a completely unaware Hermione asked The Dark Lord.

It was good to be somewhere familiar, she thought before she saw the swift movement of Voldemort's wand.

Fiery letters formed Threats Major Pyre, then, rearranged themselves into Harry James Potter.

A loud, mocking snort escaped Hermione's lips as she glanced gleefully at her companion, knowing his archenemy was still alive in this world, until she realised this basically meant Harry was Him.

"Oh shit," Hermione stated out loud, staring at the flaming letters.

"Couldn't agree more," a voice said from behind.

When the two of them turned around to see the stranger, Voldemort would've had a heart attack, if he were mortal and had a heart, and Hermione was ready to faint.

There, a few feet away, stood Harry James Potter with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead and red eyes only partially hidden by his round glasses.

xxxx

A/N2 To be continued...I always loved those AU stories...grins

Song lyrics on the phone of Fate belong to Lady Gaga, title song: Telephone.