The Forbidden Ship

Additional code: NoSex. 

Prompt: Aurora Borealis

He strolled quietly across the empty world; this was his domain, his trophy. Decades of terror and death had resulted in this: silence.

Blissful, everlasting silence.

No more insignificant chatter, no more silly questions, and no more failures of those too stupid to understand even the simplest of tasks he gave them. Victory was his. He was the last human left standing, and standing he would: forever.

However, his current environment was somewhat disappointing. This forest was clearly planted by Muggles; the distance between the trees was just too regular for it to be nature's doing. He hated everything Muggle with a vengeance.

Lord Voldemort tilted his head back; his slits-for-nostrils flared, taking in the fresh air of nature. Slowly, he moved his hands over his bald skull, focusing his magic. With a flick of his wrist, his wand appeared, raising it up to the sky. Words left his lipless mouth in a slithering noise of whispered hisses.

Parseltongue.

For a moment, the bushy-haired witch, standing behind a tree, froze. Her fingers clutched tightly to the wand in her hand. Something stirred inside her belly; her mouth went dry. This was the closest she'd ever gotten. She should aim now and finish him. Unknown to him, she'd taken out his final Horcrux. He'd stopped protecting it after he thought everyone had died.

She had a clear shot. Two words. It would be over. Victory was hers.

Tonight.

Hermione blinked, her skin tingling as his strange, sibilant language wrapped around her. Light erupted from that infamous wand and filled the sky. Unable to resist, she tilted her head and watched. As a child, she'd been to Sweden once with her parents a long time ago to see the Aurora Borealis. This was a remarkably similar view. The colours were magnificent, filling her vision with awe. It was absolutely beautiful. She couldn't take her eyes of it; it was mesmerising.

So, she didn't notice the changing of her environment. The trees disappeared during a stream of bright-blue. Her mouth curved into a smile at the flash of turquoise while, underneath her feet, grass grew rapidly. A spiral of pink curved through it, creating bushes all around her. Orange came next, sprouting new trees around her. She'd lowered her arm, licking her lips ever so slightly. Never had the sky seemed so impressive. Never had she felt like this before.

At ease.

Relaxed.

Her muscles loosened; her wand slipped from her fingers, dropping to the grass without making a noise.

The amount of colours beaming across her vision was too many to count now. For the first time in a very long time, she felt happiness.

Joy.

Lust.

She swayed on her feet, feeling a burning need inside unlike ever before.

A single, spidery digit trailed over her neck, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. Strong fingers grasped the base of her neck, curving around her spine ruthlessly. A tip of a wand pressed into her throat, and she snapped out of it, her eyes meeting his red gaze in shock when she realised all she could move was her head.

"Well, what do we have here?" he taunted. "I thought I'd cleared this planet of all vermin."

"You forgot yourself then," she snapped, knowing this was the end.

A snarl erupted on his face and he leaned into her face, so close she could count the blue veins running through his nearly transparent skin.

"How did you escape my Total Eradication Curse?" he inquired; his high-pitched voice was barely above a whisper.

Hermione snorted. "Total, really? It was so easy to counter," she snarled, glad to hit his enormous ego even though that was the only target she'd strike tonight.

The corner of his mouth curved up. "If it were so easy, why are you the only one left, little girl?"

"Who said I'm the only one left?" Hermione bluffed.

Now his entire mouth turned into a big, frightening smile. The tip of his wand tracked her jaw, up her cheek all the way to her forehead. Hermione swallowed, nervousness hitting her full speed.

"Such lies may have fooled those weaker than Lord Voldemort, but I'm not ... a part of your old, merry, bunch of ... oh my ... 'Order' fools, Hermione Jean Granger," he said triumphantly in that sibilant voice.

Defeat was all she felt. Utter and total defeat. It was horrendous.

"How. Did. You. Escape?"

Visions of the past filled her mind's eye. Painful, excruciating visions. Wonderful, heart-warming visions. Everything she'd ever done. Everything she'd achieved. It was more than a blur; it was like reliving it all. The different emotions followed so rapidly that it drained her energy, made her positively exhausted. When he was done, not even his spell could keep her upright and she collapsed into his arms.

His scent invaded her nostrils, a delicious combination of masculine flagrances. She closed her eyes, inhaling it fully, enjoying it. She was too tired to berate herself for that.

Then, she felt his arms shift, curving underneath her leg and back, and he lifted her! Her eyelids flickered; through her disrupted sight, she witnessed his slit-pupils narrowing into tiny stripes contemplatively.

What was he doing? Why wasn't he killing her? He was supposed to kill her on sight. He did that to everyone. He'd done that to everyone.

Slowly, her body pulled her to darkness, to blissful unconsciousness. The last thing she imagined she'd heard wrong were:

"You're not everyone, Miss Granger."