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My Fair Mudblood	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 25604 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in that world. I do not make money on this.

Chapter List
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Hello everybody! Here, for AFF-readers only, comes a new fic from yours truly. It’s basically a dark little PWP. It’s only five chapters long and I’ll post them as soon as I’ve edited them. Although, there will probably still be some mistakes left and well… my bad. Warning! This story is NOT for the easily offended. As you can see in the warning there will be a lot of domination going on and this first chapter holds some torture in it as well. So beware and enjoy!

Chapter 1

The Chamber of Secret felt oddly quiet when the screams of the Cup died away. Hermione Granger had stabbed it with a basilisk tooth and now she felt calm and empowered.

“Way to go, Hermione!” her best friend Ron cheered. He still looked a little pale after witnessing the intense battle of wills between the Horcrux in the Cup and Hermione.

“Always knew he was too much talk and too little action,” Hermione replied smugly and looked around in the empty Chamber. “We should go back to Harry. It’s only a matter of time until the fighting begins for real and he’ll need us.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ron replied and a shuddered went through him.

Hermione pattered his back in comfort. “You are a good fighter Ron, I know you are.”

“Yeah, well… too bad we don’t have any of that luck potion left.” He was trying to joke, but his nervousness for the upcoming battle was shining trough. Hermione couldn’t blame him. She was scared as well. Although, she was trying to stay positive.

“Just try to think about the big feast we’ll have once we win,” she said with forced happiness.

That made him look at her hotly. “And maybe we could have some celebrating of our own afterwards?”

For a moment she wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he took a couple of steps towards her, looking hopeful. She was just about to say something when he suddenly let out a groan and fell into her arms. She stumbled backwards and Ron fell down on the floor, unconscious. She frowned. What the…?

“Insolent boy.” A figure appeared from the shadow of one of the great snake statues and Hermione froze in terror. “Even a Mudblood can do better.”

The man (if you could call him a man) came closer. He was tall and pale, looking like a hybrid between man and snake. His eyes were like red fires in his thin skull. Before she had time to defend herself he had disarmed her. She stumbled backwards as he came up to her and didn’t know if she should run or try to fight.

“You have no where to go, Hermione,” he taunted her and with another flick of his wand, her body was frozen for real. She could only move her head.

Lord Voldemort stopped right in front of her and one of his long cold fingers came up under her chin and forced her to bend her head backwards to look at him. A cold smile appeared on his pale face. “Perhaps we should move somewhere more comfortable?”

With a snap of his fingers, her hands were bound in front of her and she was forced to move toward the back of the Chamber. A door she hadn’t seen before appeared as they neared the wall. It swung open and he pushed her through. The first thing she noticed was a fire sparkling merrily in a hearth to her right. The second thing was the workbench standing in the middle of the room. Except for where the hearth was, all the walls were covered by shelves and stocked with books, potions and various nasty instruments. She particularly didn’t care for the many knifes she saw. Her heart beat rapidly. She had always known that if Voldemort captured her or her friends, he wouldn’t leave until they were dead. Although, judging by the room, he wasn’t about to give her a quick dead. Perhaps it would be enough time to try to break free?

He hope decreased when she heard the door slam shut behind her. She could feel strong magic putting a ward around the place. She didn’t think she would be able to break through even if she managed to knock out Voldemort. Right as the thought crossed her mind, he came up to her and looked at her closely.

“You are very dirty,” he noted displeased and with a wave of his wand, she was naked, untied and a bathtub filled with water had appeared next to her. “Jump in.”

She was too shocked and scared to even move. While rolling his eyes, he lifted her up and dropped her in the bathtub, making the water splash all over the floor. He handed her soap.

“Wash yourself thoroughly, or I’ll do it for you.” His voice was hard.

She unfroze and quickly began to scrub her body. After all the running, flying and fighting, she did need a bath, but why he thought so too was beyond her.

“Between your legs as well,” he ordered.

She hesitated. He took a step toward the bath and she quickly brought the soap down under the water and closed her eyes as she quickly cleaned her intimate area. What would happen when she was done? She couldn’t think of any Dark Arts ritual where the victim needed to be clean, but she was no expert by far. Neither did she see the purpose of being clean if he was about to kill or torture her. Or perhaps he was afraid of dirt? Nah, Harry had said that he seemed to live in quite rough places. Also, with that snake he had…

“Up,” he ordered when she stopped scrubbing.

Hesitatingly she did, while keeping her arms closely pressed against her chest and her legs tight together. A towel appeared around her and she grabbed it quickly.

“Dry yourself,” he said as he went over to one of the shelves and started looking at… quills? Why would he need quills?

“What… what’s going on?” Since he wasn’t torturing her, she felt brave enough to ask.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he answered in an uninterested voice. “When you are dry, lay down on your stomach on the workbench.”

She frowned and looked at the bench. Was he going to rape her? Her stomach turned into a knot and she bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from crying in fear.

“Now Hermione.” He turned around and she saw that he was holding a quill and jar of ink in one hand and his wand in the other.

Slowly, she lay down with the towel still wrapped around her. He came and sat down next to her. Without as much as a word of warning, he made the towel disappear. She bit back a whimper.

“Just lay still,” he ordered and brushed all her hair over her shoulder. Then he brought the quill to her shoulder and began to draw something on her back.

Her too vivid imagination started to overproduce images on what he was planning. Would he decapitate her and send her body with a message to Harry? Was it some Dark Arts ritual going on after all? Did he paint out lines for where he would cut into her later? No, it felt like he was drawing letters into her back. The end of the quill was hard against her skin, but not really painful. Perhaps it was a message to his Death Eaters to do whatever they wished with her? Or maybe some sick fantasy he had about a painted lady? Whatever it was, she was sure that it was not good news for her. Ten minutes went by before he finally stopped right over her buttocks. She shivered as he blew lightly on the ink, probably to make it dry.

“Sit up,” he said softly and held her hair in place over her shoulder. Once she was sitting, he tied her hair so it wouldn’t smear the writing. A small smile lingered on his almost invisible lips as he looked at her. Now he was really looking at her body. She tried to cover herself with her arms, but he tied her hands together and held them down at her legs. A finger came up to her areola and circled the hard nipple. Her breath hitched and she closed her eyes and prepared for whatever horror that was to come.

She was very surprised when she heard him sigh and withdraw. “The next time you see me, you’ll not be so disgusted by my touch.”

Her eyes flew open, but before she had time to ask what he was talking about, he waved his wand and she felt the sickening sensation of being moved by magic. When she landed, it was on a hard stone floor which was just barely covered by sand. She looked up and saw great stone walls all around her. There were paintings on the beige stone which she recognised as… hieroglyphs? What had happened? Either had she been transported naked to the British Museum, or she was in a pyramid. But why would Voldemort send her away to begin with? And why naked?

More questions were added when a tall dark haired young man appeared from behind a stone. He was dressed in a white shirt and grey pants, but was barefoot. For a moment he seemed surprised, but then he sighed. “What year are you from?” he asked with a barely noticeable London accent.

“What?” she asked, getting more and more confused and scared by the minute.

The man walked up to her and pulled her up by the arm. His nostrils flattered slightly as he breathed in her sense. “You smell like Hogwarts soap.”

She arched her eyebrows. What did that have to do with anything? The he spotted whatever Voldemort had written on her back and spun her around.

“1998,” he said out loud. “And your name is Hermione.”

“Yes. Who are you?” she asked, finally finding that Gryffindor courage she had heard so much about.

“Isn’t that obvious?” he asked with a laugh. “I mean, sure I assume I look older 1998, but…”

She turned toward him again and stared at him in disbelief. “You are Voldemort?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Not that obvious? Oh, well. Yes, I am. Of course. And I’ve sent you to me to prepare you for a ritual which my older self apparently don’t have time to prepare himself. Can’t say I blame him, it will take three months.”

“What?” Her eyes were wide in surprise. What did he mean by preparation?

“Oh, yes, I’ll prepare you and then send you back to myself in the future where you will be… well, no use going into that now. Follow me.” Now she recognised him as Voldemort. Seemed like all that ordering around wasn’t a new thing he had picked up. She scowled at his back and tried to remove the ties around her hands, refusing to go anywhere before she found out what the hell was going on. Or at least until she got some clothes. It was rather cold in here.

Voldemort had almost made it to the corner when he realised she wasn’t following him. He turned around with a frown. “What?”

“What’s going on here?” she demanded to know. “I assume I’ve been travelling through time, but apparently, it has to be more than twenty years and that’s just not possible.”

He walked back to her. “Apparently it is, otherwise you would not be standing here. And it’s more than twenty years as well. This is 1950. According to the writings on your back, I’ll develop a spell to send people through time after I send you back. I have also given myself the counter spell so you’ll be transported back to the moment you left once I’m done with you. Now, follow me.”

Hermione didn’t. Instead she stared at him in wonder. 1950? That made him only four or five years older than she was! Dumbledore had told Harry over a year ago that no one knew what Voldemort had been doing during that time. He had just disappeared and then got back to apply for a job at Hogwarts. By then he had started to look inhuman, but right now, he was still very much the handsome man Harry and Ginny had described for her. And she was naked! Even though she didn’t want it to bother her, it did. She had never been naked in front of a man she wasn’t related too before and although she knew he was Lord Voldemort, evil murderer and all that, he was now young and handsome. Merlin, why had old Voldemort sent her back naked? Or was it just because he had wanted to write on her?

“Seriously, you are not the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?” young Voldemort exclaimed, grabbed her bounded hands and dragged her around the corner.

She was very surprised by the scenery that met her. It was an old tomb, with a golden sarcophagus standing in the middle and lots of treasury all around. However, at one end of the room, a normal bed was placed and something that looked awful like a Hogwart’s trunk was placed at the end of it. Clothes were hanging over some of the treasuries and books and scrolls were lying all over the tomb.

“You live here?” she asked in disbelief.

He shrugged. “For now. No one has found this pyramid. Oh, and since you don’t have a wand, I wouldn’t suggest you trying to run away. We are deep down under tons of sand.”

“And who is that?” she asked and nodded at the sarcophagus.

“This is Imhotep, one of the greatest wizards ever known,” Voldemort said, looking very pleased.

Hermione gasped. Not even in her time had anyone found Imhotep’s tomb. He had indeed been one of the greatest wizards ever, but it was often debated on whether he was a dark wizard or not. The fact that Muggles seemed to have worshiped him as a God made some people doubt his good intensions. But he was sometimes mentioned as the founder of medicine so he couldn’t be all bad either.

“I see you have heard of him,” Voldemort remarked and led her over to the bed.

She just nodded and sat down while he lifted some clothes and found a pen and paper. He sat down behind her and she guessed he wrote down what the older Voldemort had written on her back. Once he was done, he cleaned her back with another wave of his wand.

“Why am I here?” she asked again when he stood up to get something else.

“Because I sent you here,” he replied.

“Yes, I know, but why? And could I have some clothes?” Her fear was almost gone and had been replaced by annoyance. This younger Voldemort was even more disturbing than his older self. This one seemed more… chipper.

“Not now, I’ve to do an examination.” He came back to the bed with another empty paper. “Lay down.”

She didn’t. “What sort of examination?”

“The sort: if you don’t do as I say, I’ll torture you,” he replied in a way to chipper voice.

“And what stops you for doing so when I’m lying down?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

He tilted his head. “Do I let you get away with this attitude in the future?”

“We don’t know each other in the future!” she answered, annoyed. “You just attacked me and bathed me and wrote on my back and then you sent me here!”

Now he frowned. “But I must have some reason for choosing you. Are you the leader of my enemies?”

“No! And I don’t think I should say anything about the future in the risk of it changing,” she retorted.

He regarded her for a moment. “But you are my enemy?”

“Of course,” she spat.

He shrugged. “I guess my reasons will become clearer over time. Now lay down or I’ll force you.”

She pressed her lips together and refused. He sighed and waved his wand. The moment later her arms were tied over her head and she was lying down on her back. Voldemort had a strange look on his face as he looked at her body. He moved a finger to her areola and circled it. It was the same one older Voldemort had touched before he sent her away. Her breath hitched in sudden fear.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying not to panic over the fact that she was bound naked in a bed with a young Dark Lord touching her.

“You’ll have to bear with me,” he said with a soft smile. “I have been alone down here for almost a year now. Perhaps that’s why I sent you? You are just my type.”

She tried to move away from him. “But everyone knows you don’t care for company. You don’t have friends or anything like that. And I’m a Muggle-born and everyone knows you hate those.”

He chuckled and his hand captured her whole breast and squeezed it. “You seem to know an awful lot about me, Hermione. But you are correct. However, I don’t want to be friends with you, I’m simply horny. And the fact that you are Muggle-born makes me even more intent to teach you your place.” He pinched her nipple painfully and then removed his hand.

“But…” Hermione tired to swallow her fear. It wasn’t easy when he was now looking at her like hungry wolf.

“Yes?” he asked, finally looking at her face again.

“But I’m sure you didn’t send me for… that. I mean, you are… I’m sure that…”

He was smiling in amusement. “You are sure that… what?”

“You don’t have sex! I mean, it’s just a human weakness and all that.”

He laughed so hard his eyes were almost watering. It took over a minute for him to calm down. “Well, of course I can’t speak for my seventy-year-old self, but I know that sex is only about power. You’ll know what I mean when I’m done with you.” His brown eyes seemed to darken even more and he stroked her stomach.

She started to fight the bounds in earnest. She did not like the predatory look in his eyes. And especially not how his hand started to move further down. She let out a whimper of fear when his hand came in contract with her pubic hair. That made him smile.

“I see I’ll have to take my time with you,” he mumbled and his hand travelled upwards again and she managed to exhale. “Now, I think you could use some sleep.”

She was about to protest, but the next moment, he had waved his wand over her and she fell in deep sleep. When she woke up again, she felt very well rested and her hands wasn’t bound anymore. She was, however, still naked and freezing. Looking around she saw young Voldemort bent over a cauldron, humming softly to himself. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any clothes lying around. The only thing was the sheets she was lying on. Sitting up, she pulled the sheet from under her body and wrapped it around her. At the sound of it, Voldemort looked up.

“Ah, you are awake.” He started to do something behind the cauldron and when he stepped away from it, she saw him carrying two bowls filled with something steamy. When he was at the bed he gave her one of them. “Eat. You’ll need the strength.”

Hermione looked suspiciously at the bowl. It didn’t smell like anything she was used too, but it looked like some sort of soup. Voldemort sat down on a stool in front of the bed and already began eating from his, but when he saw she wasn’t, he sighed and handed her his bowl instead, taking hers. “I didn’t poison it.”

Feeling a bit less suspicious, she started eating. It tasted good enough; she guessed it was some sort of potato and mushroom soup. When she was done, she handed it back.

“To what do I need strength?” she asked, feeling a bit nervous about the answer.

He smiled. “You’ll see.” He disposed of the bowls and leaned forward, watching her thoughtfully. “Are you cold?”

She nodded slowly. “I’d very much like some clothes.”

He shook his head. “You won’t get any. But I can put a warming spell around you. It’s not necessary for you to be cold.”

“But it’s necessary to be naked?” she asked, annoyed.

“Yes,” he asked simply and stood. “Remove the sheet.”

“No,” she answered and held the sheet tighter. “Why do I have to be naked?”

He sighed and with a flick of his wand, the sheet was gone. “Weren’t you listing before?”

She blushed as she recalled him saying he was horny and looked down.

“Exactly,” Voldemort answered her thought and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You are just a Mudblood and here for my entertainment. I’ll use and abuse this little body of yours and you’ll have no choice but to give in to me.” His voice was gentle. It made her shiver.

“You can’t just…,” she began, but didn’t know what to say. She was well aware that he was already a murderer and Merlin knew what else he had done. Raping and torturing her would probably not be more special than a Sunday walk for him.

He stroked her cheek. “Oh, please tell me what I can’t do and I’ll happily prove you wrong.”

She thought fanatically. “Well, aren’t you in the future waiting to get me back? In one piece?”

He laughed. “Oh, you will be in one piece when I send you back, don’t doubt it. But I don’t think my future self will care much about you being a bit roughened up. Actually, I think he is expecting it since he already has the memory of what I’m about to do to you…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Didn’t he give any indication of what I’m about to do?”

She started to shake her head, but then realised that he had been strangely gentle with her. Intimate and yet gentle.

“I can see that you are thinking, you know,” he replied dryly. “Just spill it.”

She swallowed. “Well, he… you, did act a bit strange. You were very gentle.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Well, I can be gentle. I rather abuse you tough. But you know what, if you just agree to everything I want you to do, I probably won’t have to.”

She gaped. Agree to everything he wanted? Her anger increased and she was about to retort something when he pressed a finger against her lips.

“Think before you talk, Hermione,” he advised her sweetly. “If you give me one reason… well, I’ve found a lot of interesting curses here, but the lack of people has made it hard to test them. And I just itch to test them.”

Terror quickly won over anger and she pressed her lips together. Whatever she said, she would be in a shitty position. Of course she could try to run, but she didn’t know where she was, and even if she got out, she would be in the wrong time. She had read enough about time travel to know that there was no known spell to send someone back in time this far. Voldemort would have to come up with something himself. Which meant that she really had no where to go, until he sent her back to the future. He had said something about the preparation taking three months. That would be enough time to come up with a plan on how to run from old Voldemort once she was back there. No time would have passed for him, if she understood it correctly. That was the most logical thing to do. However, her heart screamed “fight or run”. She really didn’t want to do whatever he wanted to. She guessed it was something in the sexual department, but it could be even worse things. What if the preparations demanded her to do horrible things that would help Voldemort win in the future? She highly doubted he would just have sent her here because he knew he had been horny once upon a time.

“Oh, if you’ll take this long to think, I may just have to do something to convince you to do what I say,” Voldemort muttered and rose. He waved his wand and said a spell she didn’t recognise in a high voice. For a moment Hermione thought he had made some sort of mistake. Nothing seemed to happen. Then suddenly, the bed started to rumble beneath her. She looked down and saw that it was changing colour. It collapsed and dissolved into millions of ants.

She screamed and tried to fight the ants off, but they were everywhere, biting her and crawling all over her. It felt like they were tearing away her flesh. She screamed and screamed and screamed, but then the ants came to her mouth and she was too busy trying not to swallow them. They crept into her nose and ears instead and she thought she was going to die…

As quickly as they had come, all the ants disappeared. Able to move again, she jumped off the bed, crying in fear. She could still feel them on her body, even if there was nothing there.

“Scary, isn’t it.”

Blinking away the tears, she saw Voldemort standing in front of her. He grabbed her hands which were still trying to brush away the nonexistent ants. “They were never there. It was just a handy illusion. But I could conjure them for real if I had to.”

Still sobbing, she tried to relax. It hadn’t been real. He was playing with her mind.

“Now, what do you say?” he asked when she finally stopped crying. “Or if you need more time to think, I can always conjure up some scorpions. Or I could call on the snakes that are living in the back of the pyramid. You know, they can also crawl inside of you and…”

“Stop,” she winced and pulled her hands back. “Just stop. I know what you can do. I was actually petrified by your Basilisk. I don’t want to meet any of your other pets.”

He looked utterly pleased. “Well then. You agree to follow my every command?”

She looked up on the handsome face with the cruel eyes and swallowed. “Okay.”
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My Fair Mudblood