Unjust Peace
folder
Harry Potter βΊ Het - Male/Female βΊ Hermione/Voldemort
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
13
Views:
7,442
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter βΊ Het - Male/Female βΊ Hermione/Voldemort
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
13
Views:
7,442
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 9
ANThe name of the town is real, I googled it. So, sorry to those who actually live there :)
This chapter is...crazy, to say the least. Please remember, that phrase "Bonus point" is now copyrighted by Nerys who offered it three days ago when I explained what I was up to in this chapter.
Huge thanks to Serpent-in-Red for beta-ing the chapter and to Nerys who had fun playing with Voldie's driving (I actually started to believe that she drives the same way hehehe)
Rating M...beware!
Chapter 9
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When the blinding white light took them away from their world, Hermione had a feeling that they would end up in some kind of dungeon or even hell, seeing who her companions were.
What she didn't expect was getting off the ground in the middle of a desert with a few main roads and signs that showed directions to nearby towns.
With horror, Hermione realized they were in Texas, America.
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Voldemort was prepared for everything. Hell, he had escaped that damn bitch for so long, even taunting her with his expanding collection of Horcruxes, kind of shoving them into her face.
It was a she at the moment, but he had known the other forms as well. At least this one wasn't a sore to the eyes. However, that didn't change a thing: He let himself get trapped in a major shithole, and Death had finally got to play around. And boy, he was sure - it was not going to be fun for him.
Besides, he was stuck with the Mudblood, who, for that matter, kept looking around instead of looking at their host.
The said host cleared her throat to get the attention of Hermione's wandering gaze and, with a nice smile, started her speech.
"Welcome to the House of the Rising Sun, Hermione Jean Granger and Tom Marvolo Riddle." At Voldemort's real birth name, Death smiled and giggled, making Hermione stare in shock and Voldemort glare in hatred.
"As I have said before, this is a place of no return." Death raised her hand to stop both Voldemort and Hermione from interrupting her. "Technically, there is a way out. I do know how to get out of here, but I am so old that I think I have messed things up in my mind. So I really don't know." At that, she smile sweetly and shuddered her shoulders.
Fucking Dumbledore, Voldemort thought with hate, believing for a second that it was the old coot himself- same moron as her.
Hermione was still in shock so she didn't even comment on that. Besides, a thought accrued in her mind.
"What if I don't want to go back? Anywhere is better than there."
"Ah, and yes, just for basic information," (at that, Death looked at Hermione), "if you decide to stay here then you'll turn into a ghost, a spirit with no mind of its own, no memories; wandering around, feeling hungry all the time, and then, eating souls. Usually, such creatures are called Dementors in your world, aren't they?"
Both Voldemort and Hermione took a step back from Death.
Dementors?
"Yes, I know that there is another theory of how a Dementor is created. However, do believe me when I say you are not the first ones that came to visit me here," Death replied mockingly before continuing. "So, you better somehow find a way to return home and entertain me while trying to do so. Otherwise two pretty Dementors will be joining my ranks, Horcruxes or no Horcruxes."
Death giggled again, which started to annoy Hermione to no end. Here she was, in some shithole - well, technically she knew where she was (Texas, USA), but in what time was still a question. Plus, she had to stick with the bastard so that she wouldn't end up as a Dementor.
Could it get any worse? Hermione thought desperately.
The lady giggled again and found herself on the receiving end of Hermione Granger's famous wrath.
"Are you high or just brain damaged? What is so funny to you about this shit you have thrown us into?" Hermione screamed at the no-longer-giggling Death.
While Voldemort seemed impressed, Death clearly didn't.
In a second, the pretty lady was replaced by a form that resembled a Dementor, with a huge empty hole for its mouth and white spooky eyes.
Hermione screamed, but Voldemort didn't, since he had seen that shit before. It was its true form, but it didn't matter to him. He hated it in any form.: male, female, spider, ghost, flower - you name it. Death had visited him in too many forms for him to count, and he had only one emotion for it: hatred.
The Thing turned back to a lady's form a second later and smiled at Hermione who decided to keep quiet from now on. Let Voldemort get all the shit from that thing; it was his fault anyway.
The Dark Lord was amusingly irritated, besides being extremely angry and a little bit afraid. However, no one would dare say that the Dark Lord was afraid of anything. Striving for immortality didn't prove anything, since he could have had other motives.
He was a Slytherin after all, and once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Therefore, he decided to go with the flow and finally find out where the hell they were and what had to be done to escape this shithole.
"Where are we and what do we have to do to get out of here?" Voldemort asked Death in his usual arrogant voice.
Death smirked and waved her hand.
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An old yellow truck with green stripes hit the ground. It was so old that the paint was barely visible; the headlights were damaged so much that only a little bit of light - more like a tiny ray - was coming from them.
Hermione was sure that if anybody were to sit in there, the truck would collapse. It was the shittiest car Hermione had ever seen. Her observations of the truck were disturbed by a weird sound - a throaty genuine laugh coming from Voldemort.
"So this is the transportation of the mighty Death." Voldemort continued laughing, now adding a mocking tone to it, "And here I was, thinking you preferred horse riding."
Hermione shivered. Damn Dark Lords who had the guts to laugh at Death. Hermione herself wanted to snicker, but managed to hold the laughter down. Just in case.
The lady glared at the Hermione and smiled at Voldemort.
"Oh, no, no, Tommy. It's not me who is going to be riding this shit. It will be you." And with that, Death continued the laugh that suddenly stopped coming from Voldemort.
"Say what?" Hermione asked instead of Voldemort. The Dark Lord driving? No way in hell. Hermione was sure he didn't even know how to use a toaster, let alone driving a car.
That is if you could call this piece of shit a car.
Hell, even she couldn't drive. Yes, she had seen her father do that, but she herself had never even tried, seeing that Apparition was much more comfortable. Plus, there was no time for her to learn how to drive with the war and all that crap.
"Yes, yes, you heard correctly, Hermione. It will be you two lovebirds that will be using this thing." Death glanced at the truck and winced for a second, thinking that maybe she had overdone it. However, at second thought, the worse the better.
They both escaped her so many times that they deserved everything she was going to drag them through. After getting her number two soul on her "Must Get" target list, aka Harry James Potter (way too many escapes), it was a boring year anyway.
The first time the unsuspecting target number three, Hermione Granger, was destined to die was at the tender age of five from a flu, but due to her magical core, she was fully healed.
Then, she was supposed to get killed by a troll in her first year of Hogwarts, but was saved by Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.
Then, that damn Basilisk couldn't even perform a normal "Death" glare. Saved by a mirror. How annoying.
Then again, she was supposed to die from her wound in the Department of Mysteries during her 5th year. Yet, she survived again.
And finally, she was supposed to get killed by Voldemort six times. Six.
And what happened? The craziest and cruelest Dark Lord in centuries didn't even try to kill her once. He fucked her and played riddles. It all annoyed Death to death, which she found ironic.
Well, Death was actually very happy about the riddle part, since it was what led her most favorite guests aka target number one (labeled "Major bitch") and three ("Still alive. Why?") to this place. She still didn't know how or why, but she would find out later.
Hermione escaped her many times, but Death actually liked her because Hermione didn't know about that little fact, and because Hermione Granger didn't rub it in her face at every chance she got.
Unlike somebody else.
Speaking of the devil Death took a quick glance at the Dark Lord and clenched her teeth. How many times did he manage to escape her? Death used to have a notebook where she wrote down every damn occasion on which that bastard had not only escaped her clutches, but also rubbed it later into her face. It would be enough to say that her notebook had not been used for a long time, since it had no free space left to write in.
"Why can't we just Apparate?" Hermione asked while Death and Voldemort glared at each other.
"Because, Hermione darling, every new world you find yourself in, will have a few perks. Each one will be different from the other. I will leave you a note in a beautiful creamy envelope at the beginning of each adventure," (at that word Death smirked), "where some basic general information regarding the worlds will be written."
"And?" Voldemort pressed.
"And tadaaa!" Death saluted them and disappeared in a flash of light leaving a creamy colored enveloped on the place where it had stood.
xxxxxx
"So, what do we do now?" Hermione asked warily. Shock was still present in her system.
"You go and pick up the envelope, Mudblood," Voldemort replied annoyingly.
"You go and pick it up! It is your fault anyway that we are here." Hermione was not one to step back.
"My fault? It was you, you filthy Mudblood, who gave that damned riddle. Why this one, tell me? How did you know the answer to the code to the box?" the Dark Lord roared in rage and pointed his creepy wand at Hermione.
"You made me disappear from the world I have created, where I had it all, into some shithole, face to face with that bitch who had been chasing after me for decades!"
Now Hermione was really scared; she had never seen Voldemort that mad and angry. However, his next action did not surprise her at all.
"Crucio," Voldemort roared with all the hate he could muster, and Hermione closed her eyes waiting for the curse to hit her and take her away to the ocean of pain.
xxxxxxx
She waited and waited and waited. Then, Hermione opened one eye to investigate the situation, and immediately, upon seeing Voldemort, her eyes flew open, widening to enormous size.
Voldemort was standing there looking as if someone stole his favorite teddy bear, if he ever had one.
"Crucio," Voldemort repeated the curse again now with a cautious note in his voice.
Hermione stood up straight now and even moved closer to the now almost shaking Dark Lord.
"Crucio," Voldemort now whispered, sounding almost pleading.
Now, it was Hermione's turn to shake as she felt the curse.
"Hehehehe, stop it, you moron, hehe," Hermione giggled. "It tickles."
xxxxxxx
Ten minutes later, both Hermione and Voldemort stood with their wands drawn out trying every spell that came to their minds. Nothing worked.
At Voldemort's "Lumos," the tip of his wand flickered for a second on the first attempt, and then nothing at all came out on the second attempt.
Hermione didn't even get the flicker of light.
They looked at each other in horror, coming to same conclusion at the same time.
As if they were one person, they ran towards the envelope Death had left them.
Hermione leaned closer to the Dark Lord to read the contents of the letter he had now opened. He was her only ally now, so she could care less that she was leaning against Voldemort. He seemed to be thinking along the same line as her - and thus, proving her conclusion correct - since he was allowing her closeness and not pushing her away.
Standing on her toes to see better, since Voldemort kept staring at the contents of the letter without blinking and with no expression on his face as if he were a statue, Hermione started to read.
Hermione joined the Dark Lord in the shocked-to-statue-like condition when she finally read the letter.
Dearest Tommy and Hermy,
How do you do? Insert smiley
I know, it sucks, right? ... Insert another smiley
And in case you didn't guess yet insert wide eyes
You two are now in a world where magic insert long wait with big eyes
Does not exist insert laughing smiley
P.S I love those muggle inventions. They are sooo cool, aren't they? But, you wouldn't know since you both are wizards Or wait insert thinking face
You were wizards! Insert winking smiley
Now you are .. dun dun dun
MUGGLES! Insert muhahaha laugh
Enjoy (or not), but I will! Insert watery smiley full of gratitude
Yours (actually it's otherwise),
D.e.A.t.H, LOL
Xoxoxoxo
xxxxxxxxxx
"So, we don't have our magic here?" Hermione asked quietly.
No reply.
"Emm Voldemort?"
No reply.
"Lord Voldemort?"
No reply.
"Voldie?" Hermione asked in desperation.
A shudder and still no reply.
"Tom?" Hermione shook the still statue-like Voldemort and finally made eye contact with his red desperate eyes.
"No, we don't. We are Muggles," Voldemort answered in calm voice before spinning around and shouting to where the Death had been standing before.
"When I find you, I will rip your fucking tongue off and shove it down your arse, you fucking bitch! Who do you think you are, taking away my, my magic!"
Hermione was actually kind of afraid for Death, since it seemed that Voldemort's only goal was to destroy it. And judging from her own experience, Hermione knew just how determined Voldemort could be.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
An hour of shouting later, with Voldemort almost losing his voice, Hermione started to think about their situation.
No magic, no money, no knowledge of where and when they were, dressed in weird cloth (she had pajama-like trousers and a shirt while Voldemort was dressed in his "casual" - a long velvety cloak with a hood, black trousers and shiny shoes), and all they had was a fucking truck.
Peachy.
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Voldemort and Hermione came closer to the car, understanding that the only way to get away from the desert and find something about the world they found themselves thrown into, was to actually drive. Hermione made attempt to take the driver's seat, but she was not so gently shoved aside by Voldemort who managed to seat himself in the driver's seat instead. His huge robes were tangled between his legs and torso, making him really uncomfortable.
Hermione wanted to laugh at the sight of the Dark Lord tangled in his expensive robes behind the steering wheel of an old ugly truck, but quickly seated herself beside him in the passenger's seat, so that Voldemort would not drive away without her.
"Do you know how to drive?" she dared to ask, curious.
"Do you?" he bit back.
"Not really, but I've seen my dad do it."
"Exactly, I am the man here, so I am driving."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "My mum drives, too."
"I am Lord Voldemort and Lord Voldemort is always the one at the controls."
"Fine," Hermione snapped. "Just so you know, Lord Voldemort, really important people get driven." And she snickered at that, slouching down in her chair after buckling up firmly.
An hour later, Hermione came to conclusion that she didn't really needed the seatbelt, since she could have walked by foot from one part of the desert to another by the time Voldemort finally understood how to start an engine.
At first, after seating himself and putting his hands on the wheel, he just sat there staring at the road.
Hermione scratched her forehead and rubbed her eyes while Voldemort just stared at the road, not getting why they weren't moving.
"Ignition," Hermione finally offered.
"So?" Voldemort asked back annoyed. That stupid can was too damaged to even understand the simple idea he was sending towards it - drive.
"Use the key to start the ignition." Hermione rolled her eyes at the expression on the Dark Lord's face.
Voldemort glared at her for a few seconds before muttering something about Mudbloods and Muggle shit.
When he finally turned the key and the car started vibrating, Hermione was both relieved and afraid.
Lord Voldemort behind the wheel of an old fucking truck was not a good idea.
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"You have to choose the correct gear! Correct, not the one you like at the moment! Is it that too hard to understand?"
Hermione lost her patience and common sense after two more hours of Voldemort's "driving," if you could call the few meters they moved since the ignition "driving." And igniting the car was something Voldemort seemed to like because he had to do it over and over and over again after taking his foot off the clutch too fast.
On other occasions, he kept it on there too long, which made the truck sound like a fighter jet breaking through the sound barrier when he pressed the accelerator in his Dark Lordish way, namely all the way down, muttering: "You can never have too much power."
Of course, "too much power" didn't make him move an inch, which made Hermione mutter gleefully in return: "The all-mighty Dark Lord can't even get started."
Hermione and Voldemort bickered for at least another an hour, until it was so dark it was impossible to see anything and the damn headlights were so broken that they provided almost no illumination. They were in the middle of the desert located in the middle of nowhere surrounded by darkness.
Finally, the Dark Lord made the car move forward. Since he had so much problems with it at the beginning, he decided not to stop, since pressing the accelerator pedal was very easy and turning the wheel was even fun (he would not admit it to anyone under any circumstances). The stick was put to number two by the Mudblood, after which he slapped her hand away. Hermione merely sent him a glare, crossing her arms stubbornly.
Hermione didn't bother to correct Voldemort again that they had right-side traffic in America, just the opposite to Great Britain, so he "drove" on the line he liked the best at the moment.
He ignored what seemed to be the mocking glances Granger sent his way, making a mental note to punish her for those when his magic had returned. One Crucio or something else more creative for every insolent action sounded just perfect in his ears.
Now, however, they were moving along on some lone highway, going 100 miles an hour in second gear. Hermione felt she needed earplugs for the ambient sound levels the engine produced. So, she'd tried and tried and tried to explain to her "chauffeur" (as she had started calling him in her mind mockingly) that he needed to shift gears. Something he replied to in his normal, gentle manner.
"Shut up, Granger! If moronic Muggles can do that, you think Lord Voldemort won't be able to? I'm driving."
The Dark Lord was also not in his calmest moods at the moment. Damned Muggle inventions. Who the hell thought of creating this shit can with three pedals and a fucking stick with numbers on it? The Mudblood rambled something about the clutch and how he must press one to change the gear and then use his other foot (that was too tangled in his robes) to press the accelerator. The numbers and the clutch annoyed him the most. Who said he had to choose number one on the stick to start moving? He liked other numbers, plus the R was nice as well. Maybe he could try that one later?
Besides the tremendous engine noise, there was a constant "boink, boink, boink, boink," which caused the car to shudder continuously. Finally, Hermione was fed up with it.
"Will you stop driving over the reflectors?" she hissed, irritated.
"What reflectors?"
Boink, boink, boink.
"The ones on the road, you know those they apply to the line for drivers who can't stay on the road," she sneered sarcastically.
Boink, boink, boink.
"I'm driving on the road, Mudblood, so shut up."
Boink, boink, boink.
"You're driving on the damn line, which is supposed to wake drivers who fall asleep and inform them to get off the line! Plus, it's causing the car to vibrate and will destroy your suspension."
"Lord Voldemort doesn't care about the destruction of Muggle shit," he hissed back.
Boink, boink, boink.
"Well, Lord Voldemort," she copied his arrogant tone of voice to perfection, which made his fingers clench around the steering wheel, envisioning it was the annoying woman's neck who was too bossy for her own good, "should care since it's our only transportation here."
He yanked the steering wheel rather abruptly and violently. Hermione sighed, not feeling up to another discussion about the proper use of the line in the centre of the road, which was now situated perfectly in the middle underneath the Vehicle. Apparently, his highness owned the road. Fortunately, nobody else was there.
For now.
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It was a long, cold desert highway, deserted. Hermione feared what would happen when they were to reach the lights of the town in the distance. But it seemed to be night here, so nobody would be up, right?
Finally, Voldemort decided to pick a lane again: the left one.
"We're in the U.S.A.," Hermione said tiresomely. Again. "This lane is wrong."
"Lord Voldemort is always right."
"And that's where Lord Voldemort should be driving," Hermione deadpanned, pointing to the right lane.
A lone car's horn honked as its headlights came directly at them. At the very last moment, it quickly swerved to the other lane while its driver made rude, angry gestures towards them, showing exactly what he thought about Voldemort's driving with his middle finger.
The Dark Lord had his wand pointed over his shoulder at the poor man before realizing he couldn't do magic, and the lucky man escaped unharmed. Some furious ranting about Death, Houses with Rising Suns, Muggles and Mudbloods, Potters and Dumbledores and shitty cans that moved too slowly flowed out of Voldemort's mouth like a waterfall.
Hermione closed her eyes as they drove into town; the sign on the road flashed by: "Anahuac," "Population: 2,210."
Anahuac, what kind of name was that?
As they drove past the parked cars on the side of the roads, a screeching noise filled the air around them followed by a louder crash every other second when a side-view mirror was expertly demolished.
"Are you driving with your eyes open or are you using the Force?" Hermione inquired dryly, as the faded yellow paint on the truck got mixed with all sort of colors.
Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. There was one car driving across the intersection in the distance that made Voldemort suspicious of its passengers. That sparkling bloke had hair as messy as Potter's, and that bitch sitting next to him had long, shiny, dancing hair like that witch Potter had fancied. There was also some insolent, stupid child in the back seat, looking extremely pleased with herself as if she was invincible, and ... NO, he wasn't taking any chances again.
No more Potter-like errors. So, he just pressed his favorite pedal to the floor (ignoring the terrified scream coming from the know-it-all next to him) and rammed into the car, smashing it completely. Despite her seatbelt (which was only worn by her since All-mighty Beings didn't feel they were required wearing one), Hermione still hit her head against the dashboard and didn't have the chance to disturb Voldemort from perfectly executing his plan.
It seemed that Death had given them a really nice car - shitty looking but like a Hummer. A flashy silver Volvo was nicely buried under the weight of his mighty transportation. With a pleased hum, Lord Voldemort drove past the remains of the car.
A male voice howled desperately through the air: "Nessie! My Lurve!"
Voldemort could swear he saw something furry running to the wreckage.
But nobody cared. Not Hermione, who'd hit her head before the crash and thus didn't have the chance to see the magnificent event produced and executed by the Dark Lord.
And certainly not Voldemort, who was pleased to finally be able to whack three-person-families without turning into vapor.
Death also hummed pleased at the result. Three more who'd always escaped her! It seemed Tommie-boy could be useful at times. That bitch Voldemort was doing a great job, Death thought.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,207," the road sign mysteriously stated all of the sudden.
For a while, Voldemort enjoyed driving in silence - well, without the babbling of the interfering busybody next to him. The car was still howling, since it disagreed firmly with the rough treatment it was receiving.
Nice, quiet little Mudblood, just as he preferred her to be.
Annoying, screaming little Mudblood.
Hermione yelled loudly: "One way street! One way street!" as he took a right turn.
Exasperated, she looked at him. "That sign meant this is a one way street," she explained, scouting the area ahead of them with panicky wide eyes.
"No problem," Voldemort said calmly. Stupid little Mudblood. He was driving in one way.
And what were those idiot Muggles doing ahead of him?
Scared of the monstrous truck that had a sinister yellowish glow around it, the inhabitants of the cars coming towards Voldemort and Hermione tried to drive in reverse their hardest, but it was no use. The truck was soon functioning as a snowplow, piling up car after car after car in front of them.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,206 - 2,205 - 2,204 ... 2,181 ..." The sign's numbers were rapidly decreasing.
Good, shitty truck, Voldemort thought happily, patting the dashboard with clear affection as he ditched the mountain of car-and-human-debris with another right turn. He'd not killed this many in one go since his killing spree in the seventies, and it made him feel all warm and tingly on the inside.
"Indicator," a tired voice commented.
But now, he no longer cared; he was actually aiming for the largest number of complaints he could get from her. That would mean he did something right: namely use Muggle shit in his way. Then, he wasn't behaving Muggle-ish but Voldemort-ish. He'd be himself. Nobody, not even Death, would take his identity away from him. Magic or no magic, Lord Voldemort was no Muggle.
Yessss, he'd always been good at excusing his hypocritical actions in his own special mind.
Hermione screamed again when Voldemort passed the traffic lights underneath the red light, while he cackled a bit upon hearing the screeching brakes and crashes behind him.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,155."
She had explained the basic rules, the traffic lights, how to use reverse gear, how to turn signals and how to use the brakes. Now Hermione regretted wasting so much effort on something so pointless. Voldemort had his own driving "plan": drive in Lord Voldemort's style aka no rules besides his own.
She wanted to close her eyes, but she knew it would not help: Voldemort's driving was a roller coaster.
A deadly roller coaster, Hermione decided when the bastard got a kick from driving fast and without any rules, except for one: casualties obligatory.
He especially liked the pedestrians that would wander on abandoned roads somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
When they saw the first pedestrian standing on the offside of the road, both Hermione and Voldemort were ecstatic. Hermione wanted to know where they were and what time it was and said pedestrian could tell them; Voldemort wanted to know how many more casualties his new favorite toy could make. Guess who got his way?
A horrified scream and a maddening laugh were heard in the car when Voldemort quickly turned the wheel towards the pedestrian. Seconds later, the car moved over a bump which happened to be a now dead pedestrian.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,154."
Hermione was shocked. Voldemort was even happier than before.
"Bonus point," the Dark Lord announced evilly, glancing gleefully at her.
Hermione just kept staring at him, not really knowing what to do. She couldn't kill him, since then she would turn into a Dementor. Shoving her conscience deeper into her mind, Hermione decided that Voldemort's driving and "attitude" would be the lesser of two evils compared to what her changing into a Dementor would do and how many souls she would steal.
And maybe these people weren't even real, she excused herself. After all, this was some weird reality - a Death Reality.
"Additional bonus points," Voldemort suddenly declared while turning the wheel swiftly to the right and then swiftly to the left.
All Hermione managed to see, or better to say, feel, was four bumps which, she guessed, were now four more dead people.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,150."
A Death Reality indeed, she almost felt at home.
She was damned - that she was sure of. She didn't think it could get any worse when their radio switched on by itself.
Hermione screamed while Voldemort lost control of the car before returning back to the road while muttering almost gleefully "One more bonus point" ("Anahuac," "Population: 2,149") and then looked at the working device.
What came out next made them both cringe and start trying to change the channels by randomly pushing the buttons.
"There is a House in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun"
Both Voldemort and Hermione immediately pushed other buttons.
Hermione was first with number three channel.
"A Duck walked up to a lemonade stand
And he said to the man running the stand
HEY"
Before Hermione could listen to "The Duck Song" by Bryant Oden any further, Voldemort pressed another button. He was not going to listen to songs about a talking, walking duck. No way. However, he cringed when he heard the song playing on the station of his choice. Hermione just looked at him funnily.
"No I can't forget this evening,
Or your face as you were leaving,
But I guess that's just the way the story goes "
Mariah Carey singing "Without You" was just the way to make an already rotten day even better for Lord Voldemort.
The Dark Lord let go of the wheel, making the car turn left and hit another pedestrian ("Anahuac," "Population: 2,148") while he quickly tried to switch the channel. He was so not going to listen to some sappy soap opera shit about love.
Hermione frowned at the attempt to switch the channel, no longer that concerned about Voldemort's driving skills. Really, how many pedestrians were there on that damn road in the middle of nowhere and at night as well?
Should have stayed at home, she thought, annoyed that Voldemort turned off Mariah Carey.
Normally, Hermione Granger would have been horrified by her thoughts and behavior, but that would be under normal circumstances. Now, however, everything was not normal, so she guessed she was a bit messed up in the head as well.
Voldemort grabbed the wheel again after pushing number five on the radio panel and both Hermione and the Dark Lord shivered - Hermione visibly, Voldemort undercover-inside.
A familiar voice greeted them from station five.
"And hellllo! How is life? Thank you for choosing 'Live Death FM' radio channel!"
Dammit, they both thought at the same moment. Not her again.
"I'll be your DJ for now, so please enjoy my choice of music. I present to you - Iron Maiden with 'Dance of Death!' And just a small warning - should you switch me, you'll be stuck with the song you'll pick for the rest of the journey," Death warned them in her usual sweet voice and before Voldemort could start his new screaming campaign, Death already put the song to play.
"
Not aware of a presence so near to me
Watching my every move
Feeling scared and I fell on my knees
As something rushed me from the trees"
Hermione and Voldemort glanced at each other in consideration. The song continued to play.
"Took me to an unholy place
And that is where I fell from grace
Then they summoned me over to join with them
To the dance of the dead"
The Dark Lord and Hermione glanced at each other once more before mutually agreeing to whatever fate had planned for them and pressed the number seven at the same time.
xxxx
Several hours later, when the sun was already rising in the horizon, Hermione had multiple bruises from the erratic driving manner of His Driveness, as she called Voldemort now, and could not keep herself from singing along to the song that had been playing nonstop since the moment they changed the creepy Death-chosen song.
"Ra Ra
Uh Uh Uh
Rum-a Rum-a-a
Ga Ga
Ooh Lala"
Hermione heard Voldemort mutter something that resembled "Rum-a-a," but was distracted by her own need to sing along.
"I want your love. Love-Love-Love. I want your love," Hermione sang along to the before unfamiliar tune.*
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Voldemort's eyes were sore from the driving, his ears were sore because of the Granger's "singing," his brain was sore from "Ooh Lala" that he kept singing in his head and his whole body ached from sitting in the same position for so long in a very uncomfortable seat meant for midgets and not tall people like him.
When he was going to get his grip on Death, it will know what it meant to fuck with Lord Voldemort's magic and life in general.
It would be its turn to be afraid of him.
Immediately a red "E" with a symbol on the side - a little box that seemed to have a (Voldemort decided) snake coming out of it - appeared on one of the gauges in front of him. Deciding it was of no concern to Lord Voldemort since Muggles knew nothing about snakes, he drove on, until a shriek sounded beside him.
"A petrol station! Why are you driving on? The fuel gauge says empty!"
Oh, so that was what that sign was for. Determined not to show the Mudblood he hadn't known, he aimed at the two cyclers right before the roundabout, drove over them ("Anahuac," "Population: 2,146"), circled the roundabout clockwise to the despair of anyone on it ("Anahuac," "Population: 2,127"), and returned to the petrol station with a blank face, stating deviously: "It would be a shame to have left them out of my attention."
"Yeah, I'm sure they would've felt sad and excluded otherwise," Hermione said, while the car came to an abrupt halt against one of the pumps.
Deciding he didn't like the color of it, Voldemort finally found a reason to use his favorite "R" on the gear lever, and to Hermione's most sincere horror, they went backwards rather fast and erratic, taking down most of the station's pumps except for the lone, old one on the side, which had a hand-written card on it: "Out of order, danger, use other pump."
xxxxxx
While the Dark Lord and Hermione Granger continued their bickering and shouting match at the now useless gas station (one blaming the other and calling names), two lone figures sat on a bench in the middle of the desert.
"You are so mean to them," an old lady with a kind face scowled at the young woman who was sipping Coca-Cola from a red can.
"They deserved it. And you know it." The pretty young woman pointed her Coca-Cola can towards the old lady.
"I feel sorry for Hermione. She didn't deserve such punishment as being stuck with Tom," the old lady gently answered.
"Why won't you tell me when they finally die or give up?" the young one asked with a pouting expression on her pretty face.
"Because I don't know," the old lady replied in bored tone, as if used to this particular question.
"Liar! You know, you just don't want to tell me. You always know; you were the one that told me when and where Harry Potter was going to finally die!" the young lady raised her voice in frustration.
"I knew that, so I told you. And about those two, no one knows." The old lady turned face to face to the young woman. "Nobody can tell you, since no one knows," she said with confidence and irritation at the same time.
Young lady huffed and stood up, leaving the old lady sitting on the bench.
"Fine, but I still have them here. And if you say no one knows the outcome, I will take my leave. I have better things to do than sitting on a bench with an old hag, as I have been doing for the last several millenniums," the young woman said and, with a shake of her head, disappeared.
The old lady on the bench sighed and looked up into the illuminated by the rising sun sky.
"Oh dear. So old and still so naive," she said, talking to the sky. "Of course no one knows. What else did Death expected to hear from me?"
The old lady smiled and stood up from the bench. Straightening her light-blue shirt and long skirt, the old lady breathed in the humid air and once again looked at the rising sun.
"No one knows what will happen," she repeated again.
Suddenly, her old gentle face was illuminated by a mischievous grin when she looked at the spot where Death was huffing in irritation not so long ago.
"Besides me, of course!"
And with a laugh, Fate disappeared, taking her favorite bench with her.
A/N To be continued..
*Song lyrics of "unknown" song (well, it's to them since it wasn't around in their day and age) belong to Lady Gaga, title: Bad Romance.
This chapter is...crazy, to say the least. Please remember, that phrase "Bonus point" is now copyrighted by Nerys who offered it three days ago when I explained what I was up to in this chapter.
Huge thanks to Serpent-in-Red for beta-ing the chapter and to Nerys who had fun playing with Voldie's driving (I actually started to believe that she drives the same way hehehe)
Rating M...beware!
Chapter 9
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When the blinding white light took them away from their world, Hermione had a feeling that they would end up in some kind of dungeon or even hell, seeing who her companions were.
What she didn't expect was getting off the ground in the middle of a desert with a few main roads and signs that showed directions to nearby towns.
With horror, Hermione realized they were in Texas, America.
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Voldemort was prepared for everything. Hell, he had escaped that damn bitch for so long, even taunting her with his expanding collection of Horcruxes, kind of shoving them into her face.
It was a she at the moment, but he had known the other forms as well. At least this one wasn't a sore to the eyes. However, that didn't change a thing: He let himself get trapped in a major shithole, and Death had finally got to play around. And boy, he was sure - it was not going to be fun for him.
Besides, he was stuck with the Mudblood, who, for that matter, kept looking around instead of looking at their host.
The said host cleared her throat to get the attention of Hermione's wandering gaze and, with a nice smile, started her speech.
"Welcome to the House of the Rising Sun, Hermione Jean Granger and Tom Marvolo Riddle." At Voldemort's real birth name, Death smiled and giggled, making Hermione stare in shock and Voldemort glare in hatred.
"As I have said before, this is a place of no return." Death raised her hand to stop both Voldemort and Hermione from interrupting her. "Technically, there is a way out. I do know how to get out of here, but I am so old that I think I have messed things up in my mind. So I really don't know." At that, she smile sweetly and shuddered her shoulders.
Fucking Dumbledore, Voldemort thought with hate, believing for a second that it was the old coot himself- same moron as her.
Hermione was still in shock so she didn't even comment on that. Besides, a thought accrued in her mind.
"What if I don't want to go back? Anywhere is better than there."
"Ah, and yes, just for basic information," (at that, Death looked at Hermione), "if you decide to stay here then you'll turn into a ghost, a spirit with no mind of its own, no memories; wandering around, feeling hungry all the time, and then, eating souls. Usually, such creatures are called Dementors in your world, aren't they?"
Both Voldemort and Hermione took a step back from Death.
Dementors?
"Yes, I know that there is another theory of how a Dementor is created. However, do believe me when I say you are not the first ones that came to visit me here," Death replied mockingly before continuing. "So, you better somehow find a way to return home and entertain me while trying to do so. Otherwise two pretty Dementors will be joining my ranks, Horcruxes or no Horcruxes."
Death giggled again, which started to annoy Hermione to no end. Here she was, in some shithole - well, technically she knew where she was (Texas, USA), but in what time was still a question. Plus, she had to stick with the bastard so that she wouldn't end up as a Dementor.
Could it get any worse? Hermione thought desperately.
The lady giggled again and found herself on the receiving end of Hermione Granger's famous wrath.
"Are you high or just brain damaged? What is so funny to you about this shit you have thrown us into?" Hermione screamed at the no-longer-giggling Death.
While Voldemort seemed impressed, Death clearly didn't.
In a second, the pretty lady was replaced by a form that resembled a Dementor, with a huge empty hole for its mouth and white spooky eyes.
Hermione screamed, but Voldemort didn't, since he had seen that shit before. It was its true form, but it didn't matter to him. He hated it in any form.: male, female, spider, ghost, flower - you name it. Death had visited him in too many forms for him to count, and he had only one emotion for it: hatred.
The Thing turned back to a lady's form a second later and smiled at Hermione who decided to keep quiet from now on. Let Voldemort get all the shit from that thing; it was his fault anyway.
The Dark Lord was amusingly irritated, besides being extremely angry and a little bit afraid. However, no one would dare say that the Dark Lord was afraid of anything. Striving for immortality didn't prove anything, since he could have had other motives.
He was a Slytherin after all, and once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Therefore, he decided to go with the flow and finally find out where the hell they were and what had to be done to escape this shithole.
"Where are we and what do we have to do to get out of here?" Voldemort asked Death in his usual arrogant voice.
Death smirked and waved her hand.
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An old yellow truck with green stripes hit the ground. It was so old that the paint was barely visible; the headlights were damaged so much that only a little bit of light - more like a tiny ray - was coming from them.
Hermione was sure that if anybody were to sit in there, the truck would collapse. It was the shittiest car Hermione had ever seen. Her observations of the truck were disturbed by a weird sound - a throaty genuine laugh coming from Voldemort.
"So this is the transportation of the mighty Death." Voldemort continued laughing, now adding a mocking tone to it, "And here I was, thinking you preferred horse riding."
Hermione shivered. Damn Dark Lords who had the guts to laugh at Death. Hermione herself wanted to snicker, but managed to hold the laughter down. Just in case.
The lady glared at the Hermione and smiled at Voldemort.
"Oh, no, no, Tommy. It's not me who is going to be riding this shit. It will be you." And with that, Death continued the laugh that suddenly stopped coming from Voldemort.
"Say what?" Hermione asked instead of Voldemort. The Dark Lord driving? No way in hell. Hermione was sure he didn't even know how to use a toaster, let alone driving a car.
That is if you could call this piece of shit a car.
Hell, even she couldn't drive. Yes, she had seen her father do that, but she herself had never even tried, seeing that Apparition was much more comfortable. Plus, there was no time for her to learn how to drive with the war and all that crap.
"Yes, yes, you heard correctly, Hermione. It will be you two lovebirds that will be using this thing." Death glanced at the truck and winced for a second, thinking that maybe she had overdone it. However, at second thought, the worse the better.
They both escaped her so many times that they deserved everything she was going to drag them through. After getting her number two soul on her "Must Get" target list, aka Harry James Potter (way too many escapes), it was a boring year anyway.
The first time the unsuspecting target number three, Hermione Granger, was destined to die was at the tender age of five from a flu, but due to her magical core, she was fully healed.
Then, she was supposed to get killed by a troll in her first year of Hogwarts, but was saved by Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.
Then, that damn Basilisk couldn't even perform a normal "Death" glare. Saved by a mirror. How annoying.
Then again, she was supposed to die from her wound in the Department of Mysteries during her 5th year. Yet, she survived again.
And finally, she was supposed to get killed by Voldemort six times. Six.
And what happened? The craziest and cruelest Dark Lord in centuries didn't even try to kill her once. He fucked her and played riddles. It all annoyed Death to death, which she found ironic.
Well, Death was actually very happy about the riddle part, since it was what led her most favorite guests aka target number one (labeled "Major bitch") and three ("Still alive. Why?") to this place. She still didn't know how or why, but she would find out later.
Hermione escaped her many times, but Death actually liked her because Hermione didn't know about that little fact, and because Hermione Granger didn't rub it in her face at every chance she got.
Unlike somebody else.
Speaking of the devil Death took a quick glance at the Dark Lord and clenched her teeth. How many times did he manage to escape her? Death used to have a notebook where she wrote down every damn occasion on which that bastard had not only escaped her clutches, but also rubbed it later into her face. It would be enough to say that her notebook had not been used for a long time, since it had no free space left to write in.
"Why can't we just Apparate?" Hermione asked while Death and Voldemort glared at each other.
"Because, Hermione darling, every new world you find yourself in, will have a few perks. Each one will be different from the other. I will leave you a note in a beautiful creamy envelope at the beginning of each adventure," (at that word Death smirked), "where some basic general information regarding the worlds will be written."
"And?" Voldemort pressed.
"And tadaaa!" Death saluted them and disappeared in a flash of light leaving a creamy colored enveloped on the place where it had stood.
xxxxxx
"So, what do we do now?" Hermione asked warily. Shock was still present in her system.
"You go and pick up the envelope, Mudblood," Voldemort replied annoyingly.
"You go and pick it up! It is your fault anyway that we are here." Hermione was not one to step back.
"My fault? It was you, you filthy Mudblood, who gave that damned riddle. Why this one, tell me? How did you know the answer to the code to the box?" the Dark Lord roared in rage and pointed his creepy wand at Hermione.
"You made me disappear from the world I have created, where I had it all, into some shithole, face to face with that bitch who had been chasing after me for decades!"
Now Hermione was really scared; she had never seen Voldemort that mad and angry. However, his next action did not surprise her at all.
"Crucio," Voldemort roared with all the hate he could muster, and Hermione closed her eyes waiting for the curse to hit her and take her away to the ocean of pain.
xxxxxxx
She waited and waited and waited. Then, Hermione opened one eye to investigate the situation, and immediately, upon seeing Voldemort, her eyes flew open, widening to enormous size.
Voldemort was standing there looking as if someone stole his favorite teddy bear, if he ever had one.
"Crucio," Voldemort repeated the curse again now with a cautious note in his voice.
Hermione stood up straight now and even moved closer to the now almost shaking Dark Lord.
"Crucio," Voldemort now whispered, sounding almost pleading.
Now, it was Hermione's turn to shake as she felt the curse.
"Hehehehe, stop it, you moron, hehe," Hermione giggled. "It tickles."
xxxxxxx
Ten minutes later, both Hermione and Voldemort stood with their wands drawn out trying every spell that came to their minds. Nothing worked.
At Voldemort's "Lumos," the tip of his wand flickered for a second on the first attempt, and then nothing at all came out on the second attempt.
Hermione didn't even get the flicker of light.
They looked at each other in horror, coming to same conclusion at the same time.
As if they were one person, they ran towards the envelope Death had left them.
Hermione leaned closer to the Dark Lord to read the contents of the letter he had now opened. He was her only ally now, so she could care less that she was leaning against Voldemort. He seemed to be thinking along the same line as her - and thus, proving her conclusion correct - since he was allowing her closeness and not pushing her away.
Standing on her toes to see better, since Voldemort kept staring at the contents of the letter without blinking and with no expression on his face as if he were a statue, Hermione started to read.
Hermione joined the Dark Lord in the shocked-to-statue-like condition when she finally read the letter.
Dearest Tommy and Hermy,
How do you do? Insert smiley
I know, it sucks, right? ... Insert another smiley
And in case you didn't guess yet insert wide eyes
You two are now in a world where magic insert long wait with big eyes
Does not exist insert laughing smiley
P.S I love those muggle inventions. They are sooo cool, aren't they? But, you wouldn't know since you both are wizards Or wait insert thinking face
You were wizards! Insert winking smiley
Now you are .. dun dun dun
MUGGLES! Insert muhahaha laugh
Enjoy (or not), but I will! Insert watery smiley full of gratitude
Yours (actually it's otherwise),
D.e.A.t.H, LOL
Xoxoxoxo
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"So, we don't have our magic here?" Hermione asked quietly.
No reply.
"Emm Voldemort?"
No reply.
"Lord Voldemort?"
No reply.
"Voldie?" Hermione asked in desperation.
A shudder and still no reply.
"Tom?" Hermione shook the still statue-like Voldemort and finally made eye contact with his red desperate eyes.
"No, we don't. We are Muggles," Voldemort answered in calm voice before spinning around and shouting to where the Death had been standing before.
"When I find you, I will rip your fucking tongue off and shove it down your arse, you fucking bitch! Who do you think you are, taking away my, my magic!"
Hermione was actually kind of afraid for Death, since it seemed that Voldemort's only goal was to destroy it. And judging from her own experience, Hermione knew just how determined Voldemort could be.
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An hour of shouting later, with Voldemort almost losing his voice, Hermione started to think about their situation.
No magic, no money, no knowledge of where and when they were, dressed in weird cloth (she had pajama-like trousers and a shirt while Voldemort was dressed in his "casual" - a long velvety cloak with a hood, black trousers and shiny shoes), and all they had was a fucking truck.
Peachy.
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Voldemort and Hermione came closer to the car, understanding that the only way to get away from the desert and find something about the world they found themselves thrown into, was to actually drive. Hermione made attempt to take the driver's seat, but she was not so gently shoved aside by Voldemort who managed to seat himself in the driver's seat instead. His huge robes were tangled between his legs and torso, making him really uncomfortable.
Hermione wanted to laugh at the sight of the Dark Lord tangled in his expensive robes behind the steering wheel of an old ugly truck, but quickly seated herself beside him in the passenger's seat, so that Voldemort would not drive away without her.
"Do you know how to drive?" she dared to ask, curious.
"Do you?" he bit back.
"Not really, but I've seen my dad do it."
"Exactly, I am the man here, so I am driving."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "My mum drives, too."
"I am Lord Voldemort and Lord Voldemort is always the one at the controls."
"Fine," Hermione snapped. "Just so you know, Lord Voldemort, really important people get driven." And she snickered at that, slouching down in her chair after buckling up firmly.
An hour later, Hermione came to conclusion that she didn't really needed the seatbelt, since she could have walked by foot from one part of the desert to another by the time Voldemort finally understood how to start an engine.
At first, after seating himself and putting his hands on the wheel, he just sat there staring at the road.
Hermione scratched her forehead and rubbed her eyes while Voldemort just stared at the road, not getting why they weren't moving.
"Ignition," Hermione finally offered.
"So?" Voldemort asked back annoyed. That stupid can was too damaged to even understand the simple idea he was sending towards it - drive.
"Use the key to start the ignition." Hermione rolled her eyes at the expression on the Dark Lord's face.
Voldemort glared at her for a few seconds before muttering something about Mudbloods and Muggle shit.
When he finally turned the key and the car started vibrating, Hermione was both relieved and afraid.
Lord Voldemort behind the wheel of an old fucking truck was not a good idea.
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"You have to choose the correct gear! Correct, not the one you like at the moment! Is it that too hard to understand?"
Hermione lost her patience and common sense after two more hours of Voldemort's "driving," if you could call the few meters they moved since the ignition "driving." And igniting the car was something Voldemort seemed to like because he had to do it over and over and over again after taking his foot off the clutch too fast.
On other occasions, he kept it on there too long, which made the truck sound like a fighter jet breaking through the sound barrier when he pressed the accelerator in his Dark Lordish way, namely all the way down, muttering: "You can never have too much power."
Of course, "too much power" didn't make him move an inch, which made Hermione mutter gleefully in return: "The all-mighty Dark Lord can't even get started."
Hermione and Voldemort bickered for at least another an hour, until it was so dark it was impossible to see anything and the damn headlights were so broken that they provided almost no illumination. They were in the middle of the desert located in the middle of nowhere surrounded by darkness.
Finally, the Dark Lord made the car move forward. Since he had so much problems with it at the beginning, he decided not to stop, since pressing the accelerator pedal was very easy and turning the wheel was even fun (he would not admit it to anyone under any circumstances). The stick was put to number two by the Mudblood, after which he slapped her hand away. Hermione merely sent him a glare, crossing her arms stubbornly.
Hermione didn't bother to correct Voldemort again that they had right-side traffic in America, just the opposite to Great Britain, so he "drove" on the line he liked the best at the moment.
He ignored what seemed to be the mocking glances Granger sent his way, making a mental note to punish her for those when his magic had returned. One Crucio or something else more creative for every insolent action sounded just perfect in his ears.
Now, however, they were moving along on some lone highway, going 100 miles an hour in second gear. Hermione felt she needed earplugs for the ambient sound levels the engine produced. So, she'd tried and tried and tried to explain to her "chauffeur" (as she had started calling him in her mind mockingly) that he needed to shift gears. Something he replied to in his normal, gentle manner.
"Shut up, Granger! If moronic Muggles can do that, you think Lord Voldemort won't be able to? I'm driving."
The Dark Lord was also not in his calmest moods at the moment. Damned Muggle inventions. Who the hell thought of creating this shit can with three pedals and a fucking stick with numbers on it? The Mudblood rambled something about the clutch and how he must press one to change the gear and then use his other foot (that was too tangled in his robes) to press the accelerator. The numbers and the clutch annoyed him the most. Who said he had to choose number one on the stick to start moving? He liked other numbers, plus the R was nice as well. Maybe he could try that one later?
Besides the tremendous engine noise, there was a constant "boink, boink, boink, boink," which caused the car to shudder continuously. Finally, Hermione was fed up with it.
"Will you stop driving over the reflectors?" she hissed, irritated.
"What reflectors?"
Boink, boink, boink.
"The ones on the road, you know those they apply to the line for drivers who can't stay on the road," she sneered sarcastically.
Boink, boink, boink.
"I'm driving on the road, Mudblood, so shut up."
Boink, boink, boink.
"You're driving on the damn line, which is supposed to wake drivers who fall asleep and inform them to get off the line! Plus, it's causing the car to vibrate and will destroy your suspension."
"Lord Voldemort doesn't care about the destruction of Muggle shit," he hissed back.
Boink, boink, boink.
"Well, Lord Voldemort," she copied his arrogant tone of voice to perfection, which made his fingers clench around the steering wheel, envisioning it was the annoying woman's neck who was too bossy for her own good, "should care since it's our only transportation here."
He yanked the steering wheel rather abruptly and violently. Hermione sighed, not feeling up to another discussion about the proper use of the line in the centre of the road, which was now situated perfectly in the middle underneath the Vehicle. Apparently, his highness owned the road. Fortunately, nobody else was there.
For now.
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It was a long, cold desert highway, deserted. Hermione feared what would happen when they were to reach the lights of the town in the distance. But it seemed to be night here, so nobody would be up, right?
Finally, Voldemort decided to pick a lane again: the left one.
"We're in the U.S.A.," Hermione said tiresomely. Again. "This lane is wrong."
"Lord Voldemort is always right."
"And that's where Lord Voldemort should be driving," Hermione deadpanned, pointing to the right lane.
A lone car's horn honked as its headlights came directly at them. At the very last moment, it quickly swerved to the other lane while its driver made rude, angry gestures towards them, showing exactly what he thought about Voldemort's driving with his middle finger.
The Dark Lord had his wand pointed over his shoulder at the poor man before realizing he couldn't do magic, and the lucky man escaped unharmed. Some furious ranting about Death, Houses with Rising Suns, Muggles and Mudbloods, Potters and Dumbledores and shitty cans that moved too slowly flowed out of Voldemort's mouth like a waterfall.
Hermione closed her eyes as they drove into town; the sign on the road flashed by: "Anahuac," "Population: 2,210."
Anahuac, what kind of name was that?
As they drove past the parked cars on the side of the roads, a screeching noise filled the air around them followed by a louder crash every other second when a side-view mirror was expertly demolished.
"Are you driving with your eyes open or are you using the Force?" Hermione inquired dryly, as the faded yellow paint on the truck got mixed with all sort of colors.
Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. There was one car driving across the intersection in the distance that made Voldemort suspicious of its passengers. That sparkling bloke had hair as messy as Potter's, and that bitch sitting next to him had long, shiny, dancing hair like that witch Potter had fancied. There was also some insolent, stupid child in the back seat, looking extremely pleased with herself as if she was invincible, and ... NO, he wasn't taking any chances again.
No more Potter-like errors. So, he just pressed his favorite pedal to the floor (ignoring the terrified scream coming from the know-it-all next to him) and rammed into the car, smashing it completely. Despite her seatbelt (which was only worn by her since All-mighty Beings didn't feel they were required wearing one), Hermione still hit her head against the dashboard and didn't have the chance to disturb Voldemort from perfectly executing his plan.
It seemed that Death had given them a really nice car - shitty looking but like a Hummer. A flashy silver Volvo was nicely buried under the weight of his mighty transportation. With a pleased hum, Lord Voldemort drove past the remains of the car.
A male voice howled desperately through the air: "Nessie! My Lurve!"
Voldemort could swear he saw something furry running to the wreckage.
But nobody cared. Not Hermione, who'd hit her head before the crash and thus didn't have the chance to see the magnificent event produced and executed by the Dark Lord.
And certainly not Voldemort, who was pleased to finally be able to whack three-person-families without turning into vapor.
Death also hummed pleased at the result. Three more who'd always escaped her! It seemed Tommie-boy could be useful at times. That bitch Voldemort was doing a great job, Death thought.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,207," the road sign mysteriously stated all of the sudden.
For a while, Voldemort enjoyed driving in silence - well, without the babbling of the interfering busybody next to him. The car was still howling, since it disagreed firmly with the rough treatment it was receiving.
Nice, quiet little Mudblood, just as he preferred her to be.
Annoying, screaming little Mudblood.
Hermione yelled loudly: "One way street! One way street!" as he took a right turn.
Exasperated, she looked at him. "That sign meant this is a one way street," she explained, scouting the area ahead of them with panicky wide eyes.
"No problem," Voldemort said calmly. Stupid little Mudblood. He was driving in one way.
And what were those idiot Muggles doing ahead of him?
Scared of the monstrous truck that had a sinister yellowish glow around it, the inhabitants of the cars coming towards Voldemort and Hermione tried to drive in reverse their hardest, but it was no use. The truck was soon functioning as a snowplow, piling up car after car after car in front of them.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,206 - 2,205 - 2,204 ... 2,181 ..." The sign's numbers were rapidly decreasing.
Good, shitty truck, Voldemort thought happily, patting the dashboard with clear affection as he ditched the mountain of car-and-human-debris with another right turn. He'd not killed this many in one go since his killing spree in the seventies, and it made him feel all warm and tingly on the inside.
"Indicator," a tired voice commented.
But now, he no longer cared; he was actually aiming for the largest number of complaints he could get from her. That would mean he did something right: namely use Muggle shit in his way. Then, he wasn't behaving Muggle-ish but Voldemort-ish. He'd be himself. Nobody, not even Death, would take his identity away from him. Magic or no magic, Lord Voldemort was no Muggle.
Yessss, he'd always been good at excusing his hypocritical actions in his own special mind.
Hermione screamed again when Voldemort passed the traffic lights underneath the red light, while he cackled a bit upon hearing the screeching brakes and crashes behind him.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,155."
She had explained the basic rules, the traffic lights, how to use reverse gear, how to turn signals and how to use the brakes. Now Hermione regretted wasting so much effort on something so pointless. Voldemort had his own driving "plan": drive in Lord Voldemort's style aka no rules besides his own.
She wanted to close her eyes, but she knew it would not help: Voldemort's driving was a roller coaster.
A deadly roller coaster, Hermione decided when the bastard got a kick from driving fast and without any rules, except for one: casualties obligatory.
He especially liked the pedestrians that would wander on abandoned roads somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
When they saw the first pedestrian standing on the offside of the road, both Hermione and Voldemort were ecstatic. Hermione wanted to know where they were and what time it was and said pedestrian could tell them; Voldemort wanted to know how many more casualties his new favorite toy could make. Guess who got his way?
A horrified scream and a maddening laugh were heard in the car when Voldemort quickly turned the wheel towards the pedestrian. Seconds later, the car moved over a bump which happened to be a now dead pedestrian.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,154."
Hermione was shocked. Voldemort was even happier than before.
"Bonus point," the Dark Lord announced evilly, glancing gleefully at her.
Hermione just kept staring at him, not really knowing what to do. She couldn't kill him, since then she would turn into a Dementor. Shoving her conscience deeper into her mind, Hermione decided that Voldemort's driving and "attitude" would be the lesser of two evils compared to what her changing into a Dementor would do and how many souls she would steal.
And maybe these people weren't even real, she excused herself. After all, this was some weird reality - a Death Reality.
"Additional bonus points," Voldemort suddenly declared while turning the wheel swiftly to the right and then swiftly to the left.
All Hermione managed to see, or better to say, feel, was four bumps which, she guessed, were now four more dead people.
"Anahuac," "Population: 2,150."
A Death Reality indeed, she almost felt at home.
She was damned - that she was sure of. She didn't think it could get any worse when their radio switched on by itself.
Hermione screamed while Voldemort lost control of the car before returning back to the road while muttering almost gleefully "One more bonus point" ("Anahuac," "Population: 2,149") and then looked at the working device.
What came out next made them both cringe and start trying to change the channels by randomly pushing the buttons.
"There is a House in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun"
Both Voldemort and Hermione immediately pushed other buttons.
Hermione was first with number three channel.
"A Duck walked up to a lemonade stand
And he said to the man running the stand
HEY"
Before Hermione could listen to "The Duck Song" by Bryant Oden any further, Voldemort pressed another button. He was not going to listen to songs about a talking, walking duck. No way. However, he cringed when he heard the song playing on the station of his choice. Hermione just looked at him funnily.
"No I can't forget this evening,
Or your face as you were leaving,
But I guess that's just the way the story goes "
Mariah Carey singing "Without You" was just the way to make an already rotten day even better for Lord Voldemort.
The Dark Lord let go of the wheel, making the car turn left and hit another pedestrian ("Anahuac," "Population: 2,148") while he quickly tried to switch the channel. He was so not going to listen to some sappy soap opera shit about love.
Hermione frowned at the attempt to switch the channel, no longer that concerned about Voldemort's driving skills. Really, how many pedestrians were there on that damn road in the middle of nowhere and at night as well?
Should have stayed at home, she thought, annoyed that Voldemort turned off Mariah Carey.
Normally, Hermione Granger would have been horrified by her thoughts and behavior, but that would be under normal circumstances. Now, however, everything was not normal, so she guessed she was a bit messed up in the head as well.
Voldemort grabbed the wheel again after pushing number five on the radio panel and both Hermione and the Dark Lord shivered - Hermione visibly, Voldemort undercover-inside.
A familiar voice greeted them from station five.
"And hellllo! How is life? Thank you for choosing 'Live Death FM' radio channel!"
Dammit, they both thought at the same moment. Not her again.
"I'll be your DJ for now, so please enjoy my choice of music. I present to you - Iron Maiden with 'Dance of Death!' And just a small warning - should you switch me, you'll be stuck with the song you'll pick for the rest of the journey," Death warned them in her usual sweet voice and before Voldemort could start his new screaming campaign, Death already put the song to play.
"
Not aware of a presence so near to me
Watching my every move
Feeling scared and I fell on my knees
As something rushed me from the trees"
Hermione and Voldemort glanced at each other in consideration. The song continued to play.
"Took me to an unholy place
And that is where I fell from grace
Then they summoned me over to join with them
To the dance of the dead"
The Dark Lord and Hermione glanced at each other once more before mutually agreeing to whatever fate had planned for them and pressed the number seven at the same time.
xxxx
Several hours later, when the sun was already rising in the horizon, Hermione had multiple bruises from the erratic driving manner of His Driveness, as she called Voldemort now, and could not keep herself from singing along to the song that had been playing nonstop since the moment they changed the creepy Death-chosen song.
"Ra Ra
Uh Uh Uh
Rum-a Rum-a-a
Ga Ga
Ooh Lala"
Hermione heard Voldemort mutter something that resembled "Rum-a-a," but was distracted by her own need to sing along.
"I want your love. Love-Love-Love. I want your love," Hermione sang along to the before unfamiliar tune.*
xxxxxxxx
Voldemort's eyes were sore from the driving, his ears were sore because of the Granger's "singing," his brain was sore from "Ooh Lala" that he kept singing in his head and his whole body ached from sitting in the same position for so long in a very uncomfortable seat meant for midgets and not tall people like him.
When he was going to get his grip on Death, it will know what it meant to fuck with Lord Voldemort's magic and life in general.
It would be its turn to be afraid of him.
Immediately a red "E" with a symbol on the side - a little box that seemed to have a (Voldemort decided) snake coming out of it - appeared on one of the gauges in front of him. Deciding it was of no concern to Lord Voldemort since Muggles knew nothing about snakes, he drove on, until a shriek sounded beside him.
"A petrol station! Why are you driving on? The fuel gauge says empty!"
Oh, so that was what that sign was for. Determined not to show the Mudblood he hadn't known, he aimed at the two cyclers right before the roundabout, drove over them ("Anahuac," "Population: 2,146"), circled the roundabout clockwise to the despair of anyone on it ("Anahuac," "Population: 2,127"), and returned to the petrol station with a blank face, stating deviously: "It would be a shame to have left them out of my attention."
"Yeah, I'm sure they would've felt sad and excluded otherwise," Hermione said, while the car came to an abrupt halt against one of the pumps.
Deciding he didn't like the color of it, Voldemort finally found a reason to use his favorite "R" on the gear lever, and to Hermione's most sincere horror, they went backwards rather fast and erratic, taking down most of the station's pumps except for the lone, old one on the side, which had a hand-written card on it: "Out of order, danger, use other pump."
xxxxxx
While the Dark Lord and Hermione Granger continued their bickering and shouting match at the now useless gas station (one blaming the other and calling names), two lone figures sat on a bench in the middle of the desert.
"You are so mean to them," an old lady with a kind face scowled at the young woman who was sipping Coca-Cola from a red can.
"They deserved it. And you know it." The pretty young woman pointed her Coca-Cola can towards the old lady.
"I feel sorry for Hermione. She didn't deserve such punishment as being stuck with Tom," the old lady gently answered.
"Why won't you tell me when they finally die or give up?" the young one asked with a pouting expression on her pretty face.
"Because I don't know," the old lady replied in bored tone, as if used to this particular question.
"Liar! You know, you just don't want to tell me. You always know; you were the one that told me when and where Harry Potter was going to finally die!" the young lady raised her voice in frustration.
"I knew that, so I told you. And about those two, no one knows." The old lady turned face to face to the young woman. "Nobody can tell you, since no one knows," she said with confidence and irritation at the same time.
Young lady huffed and stood up, leaving the old lady sitting on the bench.
"Fine, but I still have them here. And if you say no one knows the outcome, I will take my leave. I have better things to do than sitting on a bench with an old hag, as I have been doing for the last several millenniums," the young woman said and, with a shake of her head, disappeared.
The old lady on the bench sighed and looked up into the illuminated by the rising sun sky.
"Oh dear. So old and still so naive," she said, talking to the sky. "Of course no one knows. What else did Death expected to hear from me?"
The old lady smiled and stood up from the bench. Straightening her light-blue shirt and long skirt, the old lady breathed in the humid air and once again looked at the rising sun.
"No one knows what will happen," she repeated again.
Suddenly, her old gentle face was illuminated by a mischievous grin when she looked at the spot where Death was huffing in irritation not so long ago.
"Besides me, of course!"
And with a laugh, Fate disappeared, taking her favorite bench with her.
A/N To be continued..
*Song lyrics of "unknown" song (well, it's to them since it wasn't around in their day and age) belong to Lady Gaga, title: Bad Romance.