Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

To say that Voldemort was not pleased was a grave understatement. Charcoal black eyes met cyan as Lucius swallowed hard, his jaw twitching. A small bead of sweat rolled into his eyes, but he dared not take his eyes off of the Dark Lord for one millisecond.

“I charged you with a specific task, Lucius. I expected complete perfection, with its simplicity.” Now he was up, stalking around Lucius like a hungry lion, his deep eyes never leaving his prey.

Lucius' eyes flicked to Narcissa for the barest hint of a second, catching her worried gaze. 'Cissy was always a worrier; she worried about her husband and her son constantly. She had put a little more weight back on since Lucius had escaped from Azkaban, but she was still up at night, pacing their bedroom as she tried to think of ways to make everything right.

“I do not know how he left without my sources noticing. It is likely he used that cloak of his father's,” Lucius would have gone on, but something in Voldemort's eyes told him not to. The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed dangerously, his mind working.

“Perhaps there is a way for you to salvage this. Tell your son to discontinue the use of the Infinite Obedience potion. I want Hera lucid at her wedding. Potter draws nearer by the hour, and I want her ready to prove her worth.” Lucius bowed, hiding the relief in his eyes.

XXX

Draco hissed as his hand was seized in the dark, his cerulean eyes meeting his father's. Lucius' hand shot into his son's pocket, pulling out the vial of the orange liquid, narrowing his eyes at Draco. “You are to use this no longer, Draco. The Dark Lord wants your bride lucid tonight,” Draco's protest was cut off by a squeeze on his wrist, arresting his attention to the elder Malfoy, “He may come to rescue her, and she must be lucid to prove her worth. Had you not been so concentrated on breaking her will, she would have been taught the curses needed to strike Potter down.”

Draco's wrist was released, his face still defiant even though he had his plans dashed.

“Voldemort wants her in his quarters so he can begin training her, personally,” Draco's eyes widened, his eyes going back and forth from his father to the door, “Pray that he does not deem your behavior underhanded enough to take her for himself,” Lucius turned on his heel and stalked back down the hall, throwing the vial out of the window and into the overgrowth below.

Draco wrung his hands, his palms sweating despite his emotional control. It was never the brightest idea to cross Voldemort in any way, shape, or form. Yet he could not see how he was going to be able to woo his betrothed without the potion. He had seen how his father and mother acted around one another, but he was always put off by such public displays of affection.

Perhaps if he took cues from that he would be able to hold on to Hera. Draco took a deep breath, stilling his shaking hands as he turned the knob, his eyes adjusting to the bright light of Hera's room. He found her in the oddest of positions on the carpet on the far side of the room.

She was standing on one leg, the other hooked with the foot resting on the inside of her thigh as her hands were pressed together at her chest. Her face was a picture of serenity, and peace. Her hair tied up in a high ponytail. And she was completely nude.

Draco stood there, completely transfixed by the sight in front of him. He suddenly wished he had a time turner so he could fast-forward and get to their wedding night. She was not skinny like most of the girls in his house last year. Her body was full and round, strong and lean. Supple curves leading his eye from her luscious lips, to her high, full breasts. Down her narrow waist, and over her wide hips, to the apex of her thighs that held a patch of silver hair that made it look as though her body was an open treasure chest.

Her legs were long and lean, muscles playing just beneath the alabaster skin that seemed to glow in the bright candlelight. Apparently she was coming to the end of her exercise, because she stood on her two legs again, and let out a deep breath. Draco still had his eyes fixed on her, which must have made for a comical scene because she giggled, a mischievous glint to her crystalline eyes.

Without bothering with a robe, she strode up to Draco, making sure to set certain things into motion that made his jaw drop slightly.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked, backing him against the wall, pressing herself against him as he struggled to look into her eyes instead of focusing on what she was doing to his body.

“Er, Voldemort wants you for training. Immediately,” Hera nodded, walking over to her wardrobe, bending low at the waist as she started dressing. Draco nearly hit the floor as he watched her, convinced that he would need her to walk in front of him should anyone see his state of arousal.

Draco averted his gaze, his eyes falling on Hera's wand at her bed stand. The two tips of her wand were now only bare millimeters apart, increasing Draco's fears of his soon-to-be wife's powers. Though he also hoped that she would not use her powers of seduction on Voldemort. He was not known to be a forgiving man if he was crossed, but he could also take her teasing seriously and take her as his own.

That thought sent a shiver down Draco's spine. The only thing more distressing than having a wife with such a wild heart, was the Dark Lord's lady having such a wild heart. Draco bit his lip. He had not missed how Voldemort, his father, and even Severus watched Hera. She had even caught the eye of Greyback, and that was a dangerous thing. If push came to shove, Draco would never be able to fight off the affections of that many suitors who were that much more powerful than he.

XXX

Voldemort stood with his back to the large double doors, smiling as they opened. The stale air flowed out, making the candles flutter.

"So good of you to respond so quickly," Voldemort cooed, turning around, his robes floating around him like fog. Hera smiled, sauntering in with an air of royalty. She wore a pair of black leather pants with tall, knee-high black boots laced up over them. She had on a black long sleeved belly shirt that showed off an emerald navel piercing that twinkled in the candlelight. Voldemort chuckled, shaking his head. Perhaps he had been investing in the wrong sort of work wear for his female Death Eaters.

Hera stopped in the middle of the room, her wand tapping against her left thigh. "I couldn't pass up a chance to train with the Master of the House of Pain," she said, bowing respectfully. "That, and I wanted to thank you for getting Draco to stop doing whatever he was doing to me. Otherwise, I might have resorted to killing him in his sleep."

Voldemort chuckled, completely taken with the flippant way she described killing her betrothed. "I believe you could have done it easily, my dear," he smiled, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "If you will come with me," he let her lace her arm into his as he led her into the larger part of the room where he would be teaching her. "As you can see, we have live targets," Voldemort's face spread into a Death's Head Grin, his forked tongue darting out for an instant as if to taste the fear in the air.

Voldemort stepped up behind Hera, brushing his hip against hers as he took her left arm, pointing her wand at one of the people he had floating around the large room like raw meat in a slaughterhouse.

"I believe you will enjoy this," he whispered directly into Hera's ear. His right hand resting on her exposed belly. "Curses are infinitely more fun than mere Jinxes and Hexes. They can elicit the most intoxicating screams from your victims. Now, repeat after me," he pointed her wand at the woman, who hung completely motionless, her eyes wide in fear.

Hera could hear her harsh breathing over every other noise in the room, and though there was a small part of her that screamed that this was wrong. But a much larger part took pleasure in the terror she elicited from her victims with just the threat of pain. "Crucio," Hera echoed the Dark Lord, and was rewarded with her victims screams. Her body convulsing in the air as she writhed in pain. Hera's smile grew wider to match her Master's, finding that the pain of the muggle woman was exciting her, as was her closeness of Voldemort.

"Crucia," Voldemort incanted, letting the woman relax again. Her eyes closed as she tried to get her breathing back under control. "Very good, Hera," his hand crept a fraction lower, his pinkie toying with her navel piercing. He had to admit that there was something enthralling about a beautiful woman who was not afraid to use her sensuality.

Watching Hera enjoying the pain she brought her victims awoke long neglected parts of his mind and body. He imagined the look of betrayal and horror on Potter's face as his best friend tortured him before bringing the boy to his feet to meet his long overdue demise. The thought itself set off a primal response in his body as he brushed her rear with his thigh, keeping a tight hand on her waist.

He watched her mouth move as she incanted the spell over and over again, setting the room a blaze with screams of pain. She played the Muggles as a bell ringer would his bells, tapping just the one he needed to make the sound he wanted.

Voldemort waved his wand, bringing an end to the screams as he canceled out the curses. "A most lovely symphony, my dear. Now, to silence them forever." He took Hera's left arm again, and pointed it at particularly fat man whose face was beet red from the night’s exercises. The Dark Lord whispered in Hera's ear, his forked tongue brushing against the outside. Hera's face broke into another grin, her eyes glowing with maleficent glee.

"Avada Kadava," a dark green mist shot out from her wand, enveloping the fat man. His body immediately went rigid, his eyes wide in shock, and pain as he finely went still, forever.

"Beautiful, absolutely breathtaking." but Voldemort was not looking at the hanging corpse, his eyes were glued to the woman who had cast the spell. His thumb was toying with the lower edge of Hera's belly shirt, just barely teasing the skin underneath. Hera seemed drunk on the power she was wielding, both with her wand and with Voldemort.

A sharp noise startled both teacher and student out of their lesson as the double doors were pushed open by Bellatrix, her dark eyes on the pair in the middle of the room. Before she could say anything, or register what she had done, she was down on the ground, crying out in pain. "I said no interruptions," Voldemort hissed, his wand directly on Bellatrix as he rushed her, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Tell me why I should not kill you right now," he challenged, ending her punishment.

"Potter..." She gasped, getting to her knees in front of her Dark Lord. "He's here, with the Mud-blood and Weasley." Voldemort smiled coolly, his eyes still on Bellatrix.

"Then go and make ready. I shall be there momentarily," Bellatrix looked back into the room, her face twisting in hatred at Hera before she scrambled onto her feet and left in a jog to gather the other Death Eaters.

Voldemort turned back to Hera, his eyes returning to their lustful stare.

"Come, my dear. You shall see these curses in action," Hera nodded, taking Voldemort's hand as he led her out into the hallway, Fenir and Wormtail falling in behind them. As they rounded the corner, Goyle and Snape fell in front of them so that Voldemort walked with an honor guard.

They opened the doors just in time to see Draco fly across their path, and into a large oak tree whose branches had been stripped by the howling wind. Voldemort sneered at the younger Malfoy, contempt in his eyes. The boy had absolutely no concept of strategy or timing. Perhaps if Narcissa had not babied him so, he might be able to take a hit and get back up. Instead, all he was doing was blubbering about not wanting to be beaten by some Mud-blood. Utterly distasteful.

The group turned their back on the whining boy and focused on the Golden Trio as they threw Hexes and Jinxes left, right, and above as though that alone would guarantee them victory. They were somewhat impressive, if one remembered that they were only children. The bushy haired Mud-blood had even managed to come up with a few rather nasty Hexes of her own that looked quite amusing.

Some of his Death Eaters had been rendered speechless when their feet were inserted rather forcefully into their mouths, or their wands forced through their ears so that they looked like those muggle idiots who put the fake arrows through their heads at Halloween. Though, it began to annoy Voldemort when the Weasley miscast, and Crabbe's teeth became rather ugly toes.

"Enough!" He bellowed, the battle coming to a complete halt, the two accompanying Harry nearly dropping their wands. 'They’re shocked, good,' he thought, smiling until his face was split in two with his sickening grin. "You would not want your lovely friend to become injured, would you?" He asked, his clammy hands sliding over Hera's waist as he watched the three over her head. "I would simply hate for such a beautifully delicious morsel to be damaged, especially when I have not had the pleasure of the first taste." Voldemort's grin got wider when Ron's face became a sickly shade of green.

"She's mine," Draco burst out, before falling face first to the ground, his eyes staring at some far away thing as the color drained out of his face. Hera's smile got wider as she watched her once betrothed fall to the ground dead, feeling the chains that had tied the two together vanish.

"Now, where were we," Voldemort asked, his hands inching dangerously northward on Hera's body as he bent down to lick the younger woman's ear with his forked tongue. He could faintly hear Narcissa's sobbing as her husband held her in check.

"Let her go," Harry hollered, pointing his wand at Voldemort, his face set in determination. Voldemort's only response was to laugh, throwing his head back as though Harry had told the funniest joke ever heard.

"Oh, my dear boy. Why would she leave when she has her family here?" He asked, sweeping his left hand toward Lucinda and Draconius. "She is one of us now, Harry. Would you like proof?" he asked, letting Hera lift the sleeve of her left arm, showing the Dark Mark writhing on her skin. "She can not deny who she is, Harry. I will admit, it was quite a feat to break her. But you already know that, don't you, boy?"

Harry clenched his jaw, his hand tightening on his wand. He could not deny the cold glee that was shining in Hera's eyes as she watched the hurt on her former best friends' faces. "No...," he shook his head, willing himself not to believe what was right in front of him. "There is still something of the real Hera in her," though he sounded like he himself was unconvinced.

Hermione took a few steps forward, her mouth drawn in a thin line. "Hera, your parents, the ones who raised you, they’re at Hogwarts right now. You remember them, don't you?" She asked, her certainty fading as she saw Hera's brows furrow in concentration.

Snape flicked his dark eyes from one side to the other, his patience wearing thin. If Harry was going to do something, he had better do it soon before Voldemort grew tired of this conversation and decided to kill the three where they stood. Voldemort was indeed becoming tired of the conversation. He sighed, shaking his head in an exaggerated manner.

"Now you are getting on my nerves." he handed Hera to Snape, smirking as she snuggled into the folds of the Potion Master’s robes. He took his wand out, aiming it first at Hermione. "Now, which one to kill first? Oh, but this is a wonderful dilemma."

Harry's eyes were caught by movement from Snape. Was it his imagination, or was he motioning for them to move to the left? But before he could figure out what Snape was motioning for, both he and Hera disappeared, leaving a void of imploding air.

"What?" Voldemort turned around, his eyes falling to the spot where he had last seen Hera. But when he shifted his eyes back to the Golden Trio, they too were gone, their brooms lying against a Weeping Willow.