Dark Lady

Chapter 4 ~ Liath Greyman

Hermione heard the flute music long before she made it up to the next outcrop of rock. She saw a man sitting cross-legged on a boulder, playing a flute. He wore a beige tunic, brown peasant-like pants, ragged brown boots and a dark brown leather vest. He had long black hair and strangely colored eyes. She couldn’t tell what color they were, not that she looked long as she walked past him, heading for more level ground.

The man stopped playing the flute, hopped off the rock and hurried past her, blocking Hermione’s way on the rather thin path. It was barely wide enough for a person to walk up.

”Hey there. Don’t you know it’s rude to walk past a person without giving him a greeting, lassie?” the man said to her with a smile.

Hermione frowned at him.

”Are you a wizard?” she asked him.

The man looked surprised.

”What? A wizard? Are you mad?” he responded, cocking his head at her.

”Good,” Hermione said, pushing him off the ledge, the man giving a startled shout and plunging earthward. Hermione didn’t even peer over to see if he were dashed against the mountain. He was out of her way, and that was enough. Human life meant nothing to her any longer.

She had an easy walk for the next quarter mile, then suddenly, she heard the flute music again. There was a lot of mist here, and the music seemed to come from all around her.

”That was a rather nasty thing to do to a man,” a familiar voice said.

Hermione stopped walking, frowning. Didn’t she just get rid of that arsehole?

”I haven’t felt so much hate radiating off a single human being in millennia,” the voice said.

Hermione saw a shape walking through the mist. It was odd and twisted, but when it emerged it was the same man.

”Didn’t I just kill you?” Hermione seethed, irritated to see him again.

The man arched an eyebrow at her.

”No, but you gave it a good try. You can’t kill me. I’m immortal. My name is Liath Greyman. I live here, if you can call this living,” the man said, frowning as he looked at the stone and mists. He looked back at her.

”And you are Hermione Granger, madwoman of Hogwarts,” he added with a thin smile. “I’ve been waiting for you. You and your delicious hatred.”

”How do you know my name?” Hermione asked him.

”Human minds are as transparent as glass to someone like me,” he replied. “I know everything about you. I even know what you don’t know about yourself. Like how you are about to suicide. Such a waste.”

”I’m not!” Hermione yelled at him.

”Oh, but you are, if you make it to the top of the mountain. Misery will do that to a person. You want to die a magnificent death. The problem is half-way down, you’re going to change your mind and it will be too late. I won’t be able to help you either. Once a human being decides to act, then acts, no demon can interfere.”

Hermione stared at him.

”Demon? You’re a demon?” she asked him disbelievingly.

”Oops. Didn’t mean to let you know that so soon, but yes, I am a demon. A banished demon. I’ve been here for ages, stampeding mortals from time to time. Have you heard of the Grey Man of Ben MacDhui?”

Hermione’s head felt clearer than it had in months as she talked to this man who claimed to be a demon and more. She snorted as she accessed her knowledge bank.

“There is no Grey Man of Ben MacDhui! It’s a myth based on people coming into contact with a phenomenon known as the Brocken spectre, when the sun is at a particular angle and throws a person’s shadow on the mists. It’s magnified and seems to move when the mists shift,” Hermione said disdainfully. “People are just fleeing themselves.”

Liath studied her.

”I see I have a know-it-all on my hands. Well—“

Suddenly in Liath’s place stood a ten foot tall shaggy gray beast that looked for all the world like a Bigfoot, which also didn’t exist.

Hermione let out a scream as the Grey Man snarled and took a swipe at her with a huge, clawed hand. She dodged the blow and quickly ran across the landscape. She could hear his great steps make the ground shudder as he chased her. Damn, why didn’t she believe him?

Because his claim was ridiculous, that’s why. Suddenly, the lumbering footfalls stopped, but Hermione kept running, looking behind her until she suddenly crashed into someone and fell back to the ground. Liath looked down at her, his head cocked.

”My, you’re a fast little rabbit,” the demon said. “Get up. I want to talk to you about something. Something I hope you’ll consider.”

”I know better than to strike up a deal with a demon,” Hermione said as she stood up. “All you want to do is take my soul for your dark master.”

Liath rolled his eyes.

”I told you, I’m a banished demon. I am no longer in Hell’s employ. But I’m stuck on this mountain and part of the forest below. I can be freed to at least roam the earth if I turn a mortal to true evil. They put me here so my chances of finding anyone suitable were next to nil. All that ever come through here are happy tourists, loving the beauty of the mountain and yadda, yadda. It’s nauseating. But I felt you, and managed to draw you to me because you’re so full of hate. Your heart is full of murder. I was like a magnet. You’re perfect, Hermione. You have enough hatred for at least two hundred of your kind. That’s a lot of hatred.”

“I won’t turn to evil,” Hermione declared.

”You already have. If you could, you’d kill every Death Eater alive. And if you get past me, you’ll kill yourself. That’s a huge no-no in some cosmic plans. Definitely an evil act. So, pardon the cliché, but you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Besides, don’t you want to get back at Voldemort? Kill him and avenge your friends? He ordered their deaths, you know.”

”I’m not powerful enough to kill Voldemort, even if I could find him. I mean, I’d gladly face him as is, but it’s not possible. If I go back to the wizarding world, I’ll be locked away for good. They think I’m insane.”

Hermione didn’t question how Liath knew about Voldemort or Harry and Ron. Obviously, he did know about her intimately. The demon confirmed what she said.

”You are insane, although you have clarity for the moment. I can help you keep that clarity of purpose and help you become powerful enough to face Voldemort and his entire army. I can make you so powerful, you’ll be almost immortal. I can make it so you can kill and kill and no blemish will be on your soul, whether your victims are innocent or guilty.”

”Yeah, I bet. By taking my soul. No,” Hermione said.

Liath scowled at her. Foolish mortal. They were all so foolish, all so caught up in bits and scraps of mythologies they didn’t understand at all. All they ever had were pieces of the truth, and they forced them together like a mismatched jigsaw puzzle, making their inaccurate theories fit and claiming to have full knowledge. Why angels and demons were supposed to serve them was beyond Liath’s knowledge. Most mortals were idiots and born that way. Well, this woman had no idea what his offer was and she was turning him down. He decided to make another effort.

”I don’t need your entire soul, Hermione. Only half of it. Souls taken in such a way regenerate and become whole again after time. Of course, once your soul is fully restored you will no longer have the powers I’ve taught you. You will be an ordinary witch again. But, your soul will be pure. Sin cannot stick to a partial soul, so if Heaven is your goal in the Afterlife, you can get there. But there are better places to go. Heaven is rather humdrum compared to other cosmic plans. Harps, floating about, no sex—blech.”

Hermione studied him.

”What would you do with a half soul?” she asked him.

”I’d become mortal of course, once it becomes whole. As a banished demon, I can neither enter Hell nor Heaven. This world is going to end one day because the sun will go out. Everything will be sucked into non-being. There will be no more men to tempt and torment, no more souls entering and re-entering the world. I will be left in utter darkness or be forced to sit outside the Gates of Heaven or Hell forever. Not a pleasant thought. But, as a mortal, I can use a loophole and join in one of the cosmic plans when I die. As long as I have a soul, they must accept me.”

Hermione considered this. But how long would she have this power? She asked Liath.

”How fast your soul will grow depends on you, where you go, who you associate with. If you reside with people who are kind, good and well-meaning, generous of heart and spirit, your soul will probably fill out inside of a year because of their influence. But, if you hang about with people of low character, people who are cruel, immoral with selfish hearts and bad intentions, your soul will hardly grow at all. In other words, those who inspire your love and care will cause your soul to expand, and those who incite your rage and hatred will keep your soul stagnant. To keep your powers, you have to be in suitable surroundings to stifle your soul. Killing helps,” he informed her.

”So, you’re telling me that I will keep my powers only as long as I continue to do evil?” she asked him.

”Something like that. Staying suitably bad, with the occasional act of cruelty, treachery or murder will keep you going for a long time. However, I must warn you that there are good moments even for the evil, moments that will give the soul growth despite how wretched they are. All men can be touched by Good.”

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” Hermione asked Liath. “Demons aren’t known for their honesty. All I’ve read about them states they will do anything to get a human soul. You could say you only want half, then take the whole thing. Then where would I be?”

”Dead. And your soul wouldn’t take. I can’t take the entire soul of a person that doesn’t give me permission. Trickery only works if I’m working for the Father of Lies. Which I’m not. I don’t have the power to take a soul without his backup. I have to acquire it truthfully in order for it to be of any use to me.

“Demons can take half souls, quarter souls or even an eight of a soul. But most go for the full Monty because our master doesn’t smile on bits and pieces. Your own dark lord is nearly soulless. He only carries a bit more than an eighth of a soul inside him. He’s fragmented himself and stays evil so nothing good settles on him. He’s done this instinctively, no demon is involved. His powers, although admirable will not surpass yours if you accept my offer. As I share your soul, you share my power, the power of Hell itself. He can’t stand against it. You can have your revenge.”

Hermione considered.

”You said you can teach me. I think you’re trying to trick me, Liath. You said I’d share your power if I give you half my soul. So shouldn’t the transference be instantaneous?” she asked him shrewdly.

”They’ll do you no good if you aren’t taught how to use them. You have to crawl before you sprint, Hermione. You will be like an infant fresh from the womb. You will have to be taught to use your gift.”

”How long?” she asked.

”Five of your mortal years,” the demon responded. “There will be much pain. Much pain. Only your hatred will give you the strength to continue. You must be celibate for those five years as well. No man can touch you intimately. But, if you feel you cannot go on, you have an out. You will be able to leave me, find some good people to reside with and your soul will still be restored. You will have wasted an opportunity to avenge those you loved, but those are the breaks. I can give you no fairer offer than that, witch.”

”Let me think about it for a few moments,” she said to the demon.

Liath bowed.

”I will withdraw,” he said softly, walking away into the mists. As he departed however, he withdrew a bit of the clarity he provided the mortal, so her hatred and madness returned, just enough to fill her heart and mind, but keep his offer present. As the rage filled her again, so did her lust for blood. She’d be able to kill Voldemort. And in order to keep her power, she could stay among the Death Eaters. They were the lowest kind of people there were in her estimation, and she hated all of them, except one. That would keep her soul from growing quite nicely. She’d make herself their leader.

”Liath! Liath! I will do it!” she cried toward the mist.

Suddenly, Hermione felt a powerful force come down on her, nearly suffocating her as Liath strode out of the mist. He seemed bigger, more imposing for some reason.

”It has been accepted,” he said, and Hermione felt the pressure ease off. She gasped up at him.

”What was that?” she asked him.

”A binding of sorts. You cannot change your mind now,” the demon breathed, beginning to pull his shirt out of his trousers, his strange eyes glowing red.

”What—what are you doing?” Hermione asked him.

Liath gave her a lustful smirk.

”To collect your soul, I must go inside you,” the demon said, pulling out a large and rather red erection. The head of his cock had little nocks in it.

”In the traditional manner,” he breathed, grabbing Hermione and turning her around.

”Your celibacy will begin—afterwards,” he breathed into the witch’s ear. “You won’t be anxious for another encounter for quite a while, believe me.”

Taking Hermione down to the stony ground and positioning her on all fours, Liath pulled down her jeans and knickers, then went at her hard, deep and fast, turning into his true winged form when he ejaculated. Hermione screamed as his cock became spined all along its length, like that of an animal, barbs piercing her soft fleshy sleeve and binding them together like dogs which had finished copulating. His come was abnormally hot and she could feel it filling her to the brim.

Oh gods, could he get her pregnant?

”I will not impregnate you,” the demon hissed, his forked tongue flicking out in pleasure as Hermione sobbed from the pain inside her. She recoiled as she saw his scaly clawed hand gripping her shoulder. It was crimson red and shining as the mists closed over them. She looked over her shoulder and could see only a winged silhouette, large horns sprouting from either side of the demon’s head. Then she felt a jerk, wrench and tearing inside her, which was followed by a sense of something missing, followed by vertigo—

Then, everything went black.

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A/N: I hope this was interesting. I tried setting this up so it could be understood exactly why Hermione is acting so OOC. I like her as a dark lady, but there has to be a good reason for her to be the way she is. To slow her soul from reforming and to keep her powers as long as possible. Personally, I thought it was a pretty good deal, although Liath did have the advantage because Hermione had lost her mind. Ah well. Things happen don’t they? Thanks for reading. ***