Domremy/Chignon/Orléans/Reims I/Reims II/Paris/Burgundy/Rouen I/Rouen II
*waves* Heya, I’m new here… Anyway, linked drabbles with a ‘jeanne d’arc’ theme, looking at the difference between the cognitive (abstract) rationalization of right versus the physical (concrete, material) justification of right and… blegh, just read them. :P
Author: dim-aldebaran
House: Ravenclaw
Challenge: #194 - Material
Characters/Pairings: Hermione Granger/Lord Voldemort
Rating: ~PG
Word Count: 100 each, 900 total
Notes: Also for the drabbles100 prompts.
Title: Domremy
We fight the Shadow, Harry’s mantra runs, we fight the Evil.
And what light casts the Shadow? Hermione asks him.
But the blind man is lost amongst the material excesses of his wrath, and he cannot answer for that which he cannot see, that which he cannot understand.
Hermione is the only of them to remove her blindfold:
They struggle against shadows of themselves, she realizes and in the process they have become the shadow they think they fight against…
She leaves in the bright of day.
Her shadow is long between the gates of Hogwarts.
Title: Chignon
Hermione comes to him in the night.
She allows herself to be taken: and some, considering past transgressions against their pride, take her for themselves. As they force screams from her throat, she can only think of that which the light inevitably casts.
Only when she can no longer scream do they bring her before him. Though she still bleeds, she stands, and as she looks into the eyes of the Lord she smiles.
Voldemort speaks, and those that sought to stoke their material desires fall, and their shadows are eased from their presence.
She kneels before him. “My Lord.”
Title: Orléans
Voldemort is amused by her: but Hermione did not come to merely amuse.
She takes his blessing and his men-the former for glory, the latter for fame-and they come upon London in the uncertain eve.
The shadows are cast long and sharp against the scarred walls of the Ministry by the light of battle magic, and in this curse-light she sees faces, uncertain of what they fight but knowing it was evil, each and all.
When there are no more lights but the uncertain sun, Hermione stands alone on the battlefield, watching souls evanesce from their mere causes.
Title: Reims I
Hermione kneels with the others: knees folded into subservience, hands clasped behind her.
But alone amongst them, her eyes are raised to Voldemort as he ascends to the throne.
She is not dressed as them: she does not glimmer as those bright-shiners in their ebony and gold, and yet all eyes are drawn to her at this Ministerial coronation: downcast, demure, declaring what deceit would come for her own ascension-
-but Voldemort’s eyes are upon her as he seats himself upon his throne.
…my Lord Voldemort…
Hermione kneels with the others, but she has no illusions about where she stands.
Title: Reims II
Voldemort releases her from her childhood: through his mind she begins to understand that this is more than mere blood, more than mere magic: more than a throne, more than an empire, more than even her Lord-
And after…
They are not slaves to such pleasures, however inevitable the nights become; nor to the rational horrors that await them outside of their private world of perfect wonders.
At times, they cannot even separate thought from action, abstract from material, perception from sensation.
And after?
When apart, she cannot bring herself to complete faith in her Lord, for all their words.
Title: Paris
Her thoughts of glory inevitably turn to thoughts of pride, and thoughts of pride turn inevitably into actions of arrogance.
He does not caution his cavalier, and allows her this imperfection as an act of mercy.
They fight by the noontime sun: it bleaches all but the twisted faces of her former comrades from her mind, it burns all but the cries of dying schoolchildren from her soul.
And as she falters, so do her men: they flee into the Forest, and she prays that it is more forgiving than her Lord as the shadows shelter them from the light.
Title: Burgundy
For a time, she does not understand: but the actions turn to memories, sensation to perception, and the old ascension is there once more.
In these times she feels more keenly the beauty of Voldemort’s mind, and the sweetness in such complete understanding of another.
That sweetness will be there forever, she knows: that sweetness will be there as long as she lives.
With this in mind, she allows herself to be taken by the inevitable: and by this, she will take the inevitable and make it her own.
Only he will understand; and that is sweetness beyond the flesh.
Title: Rouen I
Hermione takes her tea in time with her trials.
She keeps it close, the steam curling up in careless wisps before her.
They’d ask her questions, blunt, stupid questions: questions of loyalty, questions of deeds, questions of motive...
…and she’d take to her tea, musing: to think that I had killed for them, before…
They would redden, they would scream, and they would offer her things for an answer: not merely acquittal but security, fame, wealth…
As if she cares for such things anymore.
They’d ask her questions, blunt, stupid questions: and she’d smile, and she wouldn’t say a word.
Title: Rouen II
There are no dementors, no ready wands: demoralized, the masses require a spectacle to continue on.
…and as she is led to the pyre she looks to the stake, and as she is bound to the stake she looks skyward.
He watches, and he smiles: and as the flames begin to caress her, she smiles back.
He is not their Messiah, he is their Prophet: he is not their savior, he is a stepping stone to more…
…and as the flames engulf her, there are screams, but they are not her screams.
Hermione is something more than a mere inferno.
Author: dim-aldebaran
House: Ravenclaw
Challenge: #194 - Material
Characters/Pairings: Hermione Granger/Lord Voldemort
Rating: ~PG
Word Count: 100 each, 900 total
Notes: Also for the drabbles100 prompts.
Title: Domremy
We fight the Shadow, Harry’s mantra runs, we fight the Evil.
And what light casts the Shadow? Hermione asks him.
But the blind man is lost amongst the material excesses of his wrath, and he cannot answer for that which he cannot see, that which he cannot understand.
Hermione is the only of them to remove her blindfold:
They struggle against shadows of themselves, she realizes and in the process they have become the shadow they think they fight against…
She leaves in the bright of day.
Her shadow is long between the gates of Hogwarts.
Title: Chignon
Hermione comes to him in the night.
She allows herself to be taken: and some, considering past transgressions against their pride, take her for themselves. As they force screams from her throat, she can only think of that which the light inevitably casts.
Only when she can no longer scream do they bring her before him. Though she still bleeds, she stands, and as she looks into the eyes of the Lord she smiles.
Voldemort speaks, and those that sought to stoke their material desires fall, and their shadows are eased from their presence.
She kneels before him. “My Lord.”
Title: Orléans
Voldemort is amused by her: but Hermione did not come to merely amuse.
She takes his blessing and his men-the former for glory, the latter for fame-and they come upon London in the uncertain eve.
The shadows are cast long and sharp against the scarred walls of the Ministry by the light of battle magic, and in this curse-light she sees faces, uncertain of what they fight but knowing it was evil, each and all.
When there are no more lights but the uncertain sun, Hermione stands alone on the battlefield, watching souls evanesce from their mere causes.
Title: Reims I
Hermione kneels with the others: knees folded into subservience, hands clasped behind her.
But alone amongst them, her eyes are raised to Voldemort as he ascends to the throne.
She is not dressed as them: she does not glimmer as those bright-shiners in their ebony and gold, and yet all eyes are drawn to her at this Ministerial coronation: downcast, demure, declaring what deceit would come for her own ascension-
-but Voldemort’s eyes are upon her as he seats himself upon his throne.
…my Lord Voldemort…
Hermione kneels with the others, but she has no illusions about where she stands.
Title: Reims II
Voldemort releases her from her childhood: through his mind she begins to understand that this is more than mere blood, more than mere magic: more than a throne, more than an empire, more than even her Lord-
And after…
They are not slaves to such pleasures, however inevitable the nights become; nor to the rational horrors that await them outside of their private world of perfect wonders.
At times, they cannot even separate thought from action, abstract from material, perception from sensation.
And after?
When apart, she cannot bring herself to complete faith in her Lord, for all their words.
Title: Paris
Her thoughts of glory inevitably turn to thoughts of pride, and thoughts of pride turn inevitably into actions of arrogance.
He does not caution his cavalier, and allows her this imperfection as an act of mercy.
They fight by the noontime sun: it bleaches all but the twisted faces of her former comrades from her mind, it burns all but the cries of dying schoolchildren from her soul.
And as she falters, so do her men: they flee into the Forest, and she prays that it is more forgiving than her Lord as the shadows shelter them from the light.
Title: Burgundy
For a time, she does not understand: but the actions turn to memories, sensation to perception, and the old ascension is there once more.
In these times she feels more keenly the beauty of Voldemort’s mind, and the sweetness in such complete understanding of another.
That sweetness will be there forever, she knows: that sweetness will be there as long as she lives.
With this in mind, she allows herself to be taken by the inevitable: and by this, she will take the inevitable and make it her own.
Only he will understand; and that is sweetness beyond the flesh.
Title: Rouen I
Hermione takes her tea in time with her trials.
She keeps it close, the steam curling up in careless wisps before her.
They’d ask her questions, blunt, stupid questions: questions of loyalty, questions of deeds, questions of motive...
…and she’d take to her tea, musing: to think that I had killed for them, before…
They would redden, they would scream, and they would offer her things for an answer: not merely acquittal but security, fame, wealth…
As if she cares for such things anymore.
They’d ask her questions, blunt, stupid questions: and she’d smile, and she wouldn’t say a word.
Title: Rouen II
There are no dementors, no ready wands: demoralized, the masses require a spectacle to continue on.
…and as she is led to the pyre she looks to the stake, and as she is bound to the stake she looks skyward.
He watches, and he smiles: and as the flames begin to caress her, she smiles back.
He is not their Messiah, he is their Prophet: he is not their savior, he is a stepping stone to more…
…and as the flames engulf her, there are screams, but they are not her screams.
Hermione is something more than a mere inferno.