Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Contract	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55320 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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 List
- 9
- 10
- 11
New Tuesday and new chapter! And I’m so happy all the time! Isn’t rain the cosiest? I love it! Oh, but you don’t care about that, all you want to do is read the next chapter… but first, some review answers!

Lyra Aphrodite Moon; Haha, yeah, I don’t think Voldemort thought so much about a pregnancy. So now there is a Baby Voldemort (funny words indeed) on the way! Hihi, you will learn more about Ginny in this chapter!

Sjauthor; Sorry you are disappointed with the pregnancy, but don’t worry, I can’t say Voldemort is the caring type in this story. But I would be lying if I said that a child won’t change him a little bit… But he will NOT be all fluffy and lovely!

Heidi191976; Yep, Hermione has a friend now! Here you have some more!

LadyVoldemort87; Haha, I don’t know anyone who have been able to resist him when he put on the charm! But sorry, no smut in this chapter, you’ll have to wait to the next! I thought Megan was something like that because I have seen her (or it) leave the same message in a lot of stories… why does that happen?

Kitty; Yep, there you have Ginny! I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter as well!

Chapter 10

The young girl flinched at the sound of her name. Hermione kneeled in front of her and took her hand.

“Ginny?” she asked again. “It’s me, Hermione.”

Ginny appeared scared. She whimpered and tried to pull her hand back. Hermione didn’t let go. She knew Voldemort was watching the entire scene before him, but she didn’t care. This was a friend.

“What did you do to her?” she asked her husband.

“She is a war prisoner, what do you think I did?” he asked. “You should be grateful I didn’t kill her.”

Hermione didn’t answer. She was still looking at Ginny. Other than being dirty and hairless, the girl didn’t seem to be injured in any way. Although, she guessed that they probably used the Cruciatus Curse on her. She also feared that she was raped.

“What happened to her hair?” she asked.

“I’m surprised you have to ask.”

She turned her head and looked at him with a frown. He smirked back at her. “I thought you would have read all the books I have on torture by now.”

Hermione suddenly remembered. “You wanted to strip her of her identity.”

He nodded. “It’s a very common thing to do.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she turned back to look at Ginny. She could see a small flicker of hope in the younger girl’s eyes, but their usual fire was gone.

“So,” Voldemort said. “Do you want to keep her, or should I…?”

“No!” she said quickly. “Or… I mean, yes, I want to keep her. Can she stay in Remus’ old room?”

“As long as I don’t see her in ours.”

“Okay.”

“And you will still spend time researching.”

Hermione nodded, but turned her attention back to Ginny. The younger girl clearly understood what they were saying because she had tears in her eyes and she appeared relieved. Hermione smiled at her and brushed her tears away. It hurt to see her friend like this. They had never been very close and when Ron died they drifted even further apart. Hermione spent most of her time with Harry, mourning their friend. There was little space for others.

“And,” Voldemort said, she could hear a smile hidden behind his words. “You’ll assist me in questioning the prisoners.”

Her head snapped back in response. “What?”

He shrugged. “I think you can be helpful.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If I get to take Ginny home...”

He arched an eyebrow. “Home? Do you really think I would let you go anywhere alone? Besides, she is your gift. You don’t just throw away a gift.”

“I should get to do what I want with it… her,” she corrected herself.

He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “We’ll see. Move her; I want to go to bed.”

Hermione helped Ginny to get up. The girl managed to walk on her own, although, she leaned against Hermione for support. She wondered how much Ginny had eaten the last couple of weeks. From the state of the girl, she would imagine very little. They arrived at the room and Hermione helped Ginny into the small bedroom Remus had used. It was connected via a small bathroom. Hermione thought Ginny would want a shower, so she took her to the bathroom after giving her something to eat.

They were alone inside the bathroom when Ginny finally spoke. Her voice was a bit hoarse and uncertain. “You don’t look like yourself.”

Hermione smiled sadly. “I could say the same about you.”

“I-I thought you were just one of them… Polyjuiced or something. Are you… you?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Hermione said. “I have a new haircut and new expensive clothes because he wanted me to look… nicer. Should I wait outside while you take a shower?”

Ginny’s lower lip started to tremble.

“I can stay, if you want me to,” Hermione assured her quickly.

Ginny nodded silently. With her back toward Hermione, she stripped out of the old robe she was wearing and stepped into the shower. Hermione wasn’t surprised when she saw the younger girl starting to scrub her body raw. It wasn’t a dream to live with Voldemort, however, she didn’t think she would trade it against the horror Ginny must have lived through.

Half an hour later, Ginny finally turned off the water and stepped out. Hermione had always been a bit envious of Ginny because of her curvaceous body. Now she didn’t feel anything but sorrow when she saw her. Ginny’s ribs and hipbones looked like they were ready to break through from under her skin.

Hermione gave her a towel and helped her to bed.

“Did they… do something?” Hermione asked. “Because I could give you a potion that prevents things.”

Ginny shook her head. “They said I would be spared.”

“Oh, good…” Hermione bit her lip. What did you say to a girl who had just been rescued from weeks of torture? “So, do you think you can sleep?”

“I… yes. Thank you.”

Hermione stroked Ginny’s cheek. “I wish I could have helped you earlier.”

Ginny closed her eyes. Hermione watched her for a couple of minutes before she got up and went back to her bedroom. Voldemort was lying on the bed with his eyes on her.

“You are monsters,” she said when she climbed into bed. “How could you do that to a girl?”

She couldn’t really be angry with him, because she knew he could have just as well dumped Ginny on some more than willing Death Eaters, or he could have killed her. However, she couldn’t thank him either. What they did to her was just sick!

“That is war, wife. We take what we can, so does the other side.”

“They wouldn’t torture a girl.”

“That’s what they want you to believe.” His moved closer to her and placed his hand at her stomach. “You and that girl are lucky…”

“Do you ever feel sick of what you are doing?” she asked and turned her head toward him.

“No. I don’t think I ever have.” He removed his hand and turned to his back.

“There is something seriously wrong with you,” she muttered.

“If you say so, dear,” he said lightly.

xxx

As his wife spent most of her time with the Weasley girl, Voldemort found himself enjoying the solitude. He could finally relax when she wasn’t constantly chitchatting about everything. When they were speaking, he noticed that she was happier than before. It didn’t really matter to him if she was happy or not, but at least she was nicer toward him. And that was good, because he was certain to always get a headache when she was angry.

October went by quickly, and the annual Malfoy feast approached. Voldemort had never been much for big gatherings, however, as the Dark Lord, he was expected to make an appearance. Besides, he needed to show them all how perfectly his wife obeyed him. Not that she really was, but it was important that they believed it.

The morning of the big feast, he woke up early. The girl was still asleep next to him. She must have returned to the room quite late, because he didn’t hear her enter. He watched her sleep for a while. Her hair was lying like a halo around her head and her stomach was quite big now. She was at the end of her fourth month. He still didn’t understand it. If there was something he had never been curious about, it was what fatherhood would be like. It just didn’t exist in his world. He wasn’t father material! Some may think he wanted to have an heir. However, you didn’t need an heir when you lived forever.

Nevertheless, what’s done is done. If the child caused him trouble, he would just eliminate it.

The girl moved in her sleep. He snapped out of his thoughts and woke her up with a gentle poke.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

She stretched, inadvertently showing him her slightly swelling breasts. “Good morning.”

“It’s a big day today,” he said.

She frowned, but then she remembered. “Oh, right, the feast. Do I have to go?”

“Yes, you do,” he rose a little and leaned against his elbow so he could watch her face clearly. “This night is very important. You will have to act like a perfect, obeying wife. So, no speaking up, do not fight and do not look like you want to speak up or fight. Try to be quiet and only speak about unimportant subjects. Like clothes and children. Listen to the gossip, but do not give away anything that could be used as a weapon against us. If I tell you to do something, you will obey me without any hesitation. And most importantly, act like you are grateful to be married to me.”

She was staring at him in disbelief. “So, in other words, you want me to act like some stupid little twit?”

“Not quite. You are my wife, and that alone gives you a higher status than all of the other females.”

“And the males?”

“Some of them. Not the ones in my inner circle.”

“And who are in your inner circle?”

“Those who don’t bow as deeply as the others.”

“Right… anything else?”

“Yes, if you fail to do this, I will kill your friend.” It was not like he gave her the Weasley girl out of the goodness of his heart. He had predicted this. His wife was clever. Nevertheless, sometimes she needed motivation. That was one of the few reasons why he actually agreed to let their child be born. It would be the perfect way to keep her under control.

She looked horrified. “You can’t…”

“Watch me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If I succeed, you will let me take her home.”

“You have become quite a negotiator,” he noticed. “Do you not care that I will kill your friend?”

“Well, you seem to already have made up your mind. I better negotiate now.”

He smirked. “Fine, I will let you take her home. However, it will be under my terms.”

“As long as you leave her alone once she is home.”

“Of course.” They both got out of the bed. He put on some trousers before he began with his morning exercise. She made her way toward the bathroom.

“You are becoming quite good at this game,” he said, almost out of impulse.

“What game?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Mine.”

She stopped and looked at him with a slight frown. Then she sighed. “Bad influence, I suppose.”

He smirked. His little wife was starting to turn out nicely for him.

xxx

Ginny helped Hermione get dressed for the Halloween feast. During the last month, she had changed a lot. Of course, she wasn’t the happy girl she had been before she was captured. But at least she didn’t have nightmares anymore. Her hair was starting to grow back and Hermione managed to get her to laugh a couple of times.

“What will you wear?” Ginny asked as she helped Hermione brush her hair. Hermione was putting on some make-up.

“A long green dress robe,” Hermione answered with a sigh. “I think he will show me off like some kind of trophy wife. You should have heard him; ‘Only speak of clothes and children. Obey me.’ It’s like I don’t have a brain of my own!”

“At least you will look pretty,” Ginny said and watched Hermione through the mirror. Hermione actually learned how to apply eyeliner, and she was brave enough to use a little rouge. She had never used it before, but Ginny showed her how to wear it.

“Oh, yes, you have to look pretty when you are Mrs Riddle…,” Hermione huffed.

“But you have something to do.” Ginny never complained about her situation, although, now that she was feeling better and wasn’t being tortured, she was bored. Hermione tried to spend as much time as she could with her, although there was little they could do together.

“I’ll try to sneak in a harmless book,” Hermione promised.

“I would appreciate that,” Ginny said and smiled.

They fell silent. Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Hermione sighed and returned to her room. Voldemort didn’t say anything when she entered, he just pointed at the dress before he went to the bathroom. Hermione hurried over to a bookshelf and removed two different books. One was a fictional love story (she would never find out what it was doing in Voldemort’s bookshelf) and the other was a book about wizards in the Roman Empire. She didn’t know if Ginny would like any of them, nevertheless, it was better than nothing.

She went back to her friend and hid the books under Ginny’s bed. Voldemort had never been in there before, but he was very unpredictable. Ginny smiled at her and helped her to button up the dress. It was a very modest green dress that hugged her pregnant belly and reached all the way down to her ankles. It exposed her décolletage, exposing her collarbones and the beautiful diamond necklace around her neck. Voldemort tried to persuade her to pierce her ears, but that was one thing Hermione refused. She had never been fond of needles, and she wouldn’t pierce her ears just to please him. He gave up when she reminded him that he couldn’t physically harm her.

At half past six, Voldemort knocked on Ginny’s door again. Hermione hugged her friend and promised to stop by when they returned. She got out to her room and saw Voldemort standing next to the bed. He was wearing black dress robes with a green shirt underneath. It was the same shade of green as her dress. He looked very rich and handsome. He even trimmed his hair, completing his stylish look.

His crimson eyes glittered when he saw her. “Good. You look lovely.”

She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You didn’t think I would?”

He smirked. “Well, people have never mistaken you for a Lady.”

“I never claimed to be one,” she answered, a bit annoyed.

He chuckled and approached her. He touched her hair. It was tied back in a simple but elegant braid.

“It’s actually beautiful,” he remarked and let go of her hair.

“Thank you,” she sneered.

“Now we have some more things to settle,” he said and took her arm. They would have to walk to the Apparition point. Hermione didn’t know where it was, so she just followed her husband. “Make sure you don’t drink anything with alcohol, it could be poisonous. Always sniff the drinks before you take a sip. If anything tastes strange, spit it out and don’t drink anything else. A House-Elf will taste all our food before we eat it, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

“What? I won’t let a House-Elf get killed just because someone wants to kill me!”

He stopped and looked down at her with serious eyes. “You will tonight.” They started to walk again. “And don’t let anyone know you actually care what happens to a House-Elf.”

Hermione pressed her lips together.

“Furthermore, you may only dance once with each partner. Except with me. You do know how to dance, I hope?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“You will curtsy at the Malfoys, not more than two inches. You will not make eye contact with Lucius or any other male in the inner circle unless they initiate a conversation.”

“I bet you are happy I’m not as stupid as you want them to believe,” she mumbled. “Otherwise I would never have remembered all this.”

“Ah, that brings me to my last point. Do not act like a Know-It-All. If they think you are average, they will tell you more. Don’t act like you understand everything they are saying. Especially if they speak about politics or economy.”

Voldemort opened a door and they stepped out onto a balcony. “Oh, you will also refer to me as ‘your husband’ or ‘my Lord’.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I am.”

“You are not my Lord.”

“Yes I am.”

“No, your not.”

“You friend will be dead if you continue to argue.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.”

He pulled her closer to him and she could feel the uncomfortable sensation of being moved through space. When she felt ground under her feet again, she opened her eyes and found herself standing in a very extravagant hall. Everything was white and silver, even the Malfoys who were standing there, greeting the guests. Lucius was wearing a long white and silver dress robe and his wife was wearing a long white and silver dress. They looked very much the same and for a moment, Hermione wondered if they were pretending to be ghosts.

“My Lord!” Lucius bowed and Narcissa curtsied.

Voldemort only bowed his head.

“And Mrs Riddle,” Lucius took her hand and touched it with his lips as he bowed. Hermione curtsied and hoped it wasn’t too little or too much. When Voldemort didn’t look angry, she guessed she was doing alright.

“Please, follow us to the ballroom,” Lucius said.

Narcissa, who had been staring at Hermione’s stomach, looked up and smiled.

“Almost everyone is already here, Sir,” Narcissa said as she took her husband’s arm. Hermione had never heard her speak before; she wasn’t surprised when she heard that the blond woman’s voice was very pleasant to listen too.

“Good,” was Voldemort’s only reply.

Narcissa lead them through two large double doors that led out onto a small platform. A large marble staircase led from the platform and into a very big ballroom. Over twenty tables were placed along the walls, and almost every seat was occupied. Everyone rose when they appeared at the top of the stairs. Voldemort lifted his hand and everyone bowed. Hermione couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable and she wanted to hide behind her husband. She had never liked to be the centre of attention, and this just felt ridiculous. Nevertheless, she tried to straighten her back and look over everyone’s head. If there was one thing her grandmother taught her, it was that if you wanted to make a good impression, you had to hold yourself with grace.

With a firm grip on her arm, Voldemort led Hermione down the stairs.

“Don’t smile,” he mumbled. “Look unimpressed.”

She tried, but she had never seen anything like it before. The ceiling seemed to be thirty feet high, and it was painted as elaborately as one would a cathedral. In the centre of the ceiling, hung the largest chandelier she had ever seen, lit by hundreds of candles. The floor was made of marble, and there was a large silver fountain in the middle of the room. In the centre of the fountain was silver statue in the shape of a unicorn. In each corner of the room, were enormous bouquets of white roses. Hermione was happy to see the green leaves in the bouquets; otherwise she would have thought she had gone blind with all the silver and white. The room was very surrealistic. Thankfully, she could look out through the large windows and see the blue evening sky.

Voldemort led her to the most prominent table and he pulled out a chair and made a gesture for her to sit down. She carefully sat down and made certain not to get wrinkles on her skirt. Voldemort pulled out the chair to her right and sat down. Draco Malfoy sat to her left and next to him, sat a young girl with dark hair that Hermione didn’t recognise.

On the other side of Voldemort sat Narcissa and Lucius. Hermione didn’t recognise the other two couples at the table and they pretended not to see her. They were served three different dishes and Hermione had no idea what it was. It was all just… white. She didn’t speak to anyone at the table, only listened. Draco didn’t speak to her and only spoke to the dark haired girl who seemed to be very shy.

It took almost two hours before the dinner was over and Hermione was very bored by then. She wondered if she could fake some sickness, but quickly decided that would probably not be good for Ginny.

It was then that Lucius stood up and declared that it was time for dancing. An invisible band began to play and Lucius asked Narcissa for the first dance. Voldemort took Hermione’s hand and escorted her to the dance floor before she could protest.

“People will start to talk with you now,” he said as he led her through the steps of the dance.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Ahuh… I’ll play dumb… or dumber. Talk about clothes and babies… What are our thoughts about the baby? Are we happy?”

“We are happy. It wasn’t an accident.”

“Okay…” The first song ended and Voldemort led her back to their table before he asked Narcissa for the next dance.

When Hermione was about to sit down, Lucius took her arm and asked for a dance. It was quite a slow dance and all Lucius said was that she had a beautiful dress. She complimented his house and the food.

When the second dance was over, Hermione finally got to sit down. She watched her husband as he danced with another woman. He was saying something and the woman was smiling. Hermione sighed and let her eyes wander to the other guests. After a while, she noticed that a lot of people were looking at her. When she saw them, they quickly looked away. She knew they were talking about her and it made her feel like she was standing alone in the schoolyard again.

A couple of young women came over to her to gossip. Hermione answered as pleasantly as she could, but they quickly grew tired of her lack of information and left again.

Hermione continued to watch the dancers. Voldemort wasn’t on the dance floor. She spotted him at a table in the other end of the room. He was talking to some wizards. She frowned. They didn’t look like they were enjoying the feast. She could see Voldemort gesturing at someone to leave… what were they doing?

“May I have this dance?” She looked up, and to her great surprise, she saw Snape standing there, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course,” she said and rose. The band started to play a waltz and Snape placed his hand on her waist. They started to dance. He was not a good dancer like Voldemort and Lucius, and he seemed to be nervous.

“They are wondering how you are doing,” he suddenly mumbled. “I have not been able to tell them about… your condition.”

“Tell them I’m fine,” she mumbled back. “I’m taking care of Ginny, she is fine as well.”

She wanted to tell him more about what Voldemort had said and done, however, he had ordered her not too. However, he had never told her she couldn’t talk about Ginny.

“Her parents will be relieved,” Snape muttered.

“Yeah, if I make it through tonight, I get to take her home. But don’t tell them that. If my husband changes his mind… well, I don’t want to give them any false hope.”

“Understandable. Anything else you wish for me to report?”

“Millions of things,” she said sadly. “Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to speak about it.”

He seemed thoughtful. “Perhaps you can tell me something else?

She had to force herself not to smile. “Hmm… okay, I can try.” She was silent for a while. She couldn’t say anything too telling, however, she could say something that would hopefully lead the Order in the right direction.

“Oh, okay,” she finally said. “I was so glad when I saw that my husband had Hogwarts, A History. He finds it as interesting as I do. It’s fun to read about the founders.” Hermione looked around and spotted a woman with a hideous yellow dress. “That yellow dress is… interesting.” The song ended. “Thank you for the dance. I think I’ll get a cup of water.” Hermione emphasised each of the critical words she was trying to get across to Snape. She hoped he understood.

He smirked and bowed before he left her. She really hoped he understood what she meant. She went back to her table, but before she could sit down, Narcissa was standing next to her.

“Oh, Mrs Riddle, you simple must see our garden on the terrace. It’s something special this time of the evening!” she said in a chirpy voice and took Hermione by the arm.

Narcissa dragged her out while talking cheerfully about the flowers and the bushes. There were many people on the terrace, Narcissa ignored them and dragged Hermione further away from the house.

“… trees were planted by Lucius grandfather, he was so fascinated about…” Narcissa had been looking around, and now Hermione realised they were completely alone. Narcissa stopped talking and her expression changed in a moment. She pushed Hermione into a tree and put her wand against her ribs.

“Now you will listen to me, bitch,” Narcissa hissed.

Hermione was still too shocked to do anything but listen. The older woman was small, just like her; however, in that moment, she was very scary.

“If you ever touch one hair on my sweet little boy’s head again, I shall rip your head off with my bare hands!” Narcissa was spitting as she talked. “Those nasty Muggles kept him in that prison over night! All because of you, Mudblood slut! You broke his jaw and he couldn’t eat for a week!”

Hermione was angry. She hadn’t meant to break his jaw but she was glad to hear it. Not to mention that his crazy mother didn’t have any right to lure her out here and threaten her.

“Your sweet little son started it,” Hermione said through clenched teeth. “He was rude and crude.”

Narcissa finally let go of her. She gave her a superior look. “He was merely telling you what everyone already knows. But don’t worry. We will make sure the Dark Lord get’s rid of you sooner rather than later.”

The blond woman pivoted on her expensive heels and strutted away. Hermione stared after her. She was in shock. Narcissa has just intimated that she wasn’t the only person intent on killing her. Did Voldemort know about this? He was supposed to protect her!

Emotionally exhausted, Hermione sank down on the ground and her tears began to flow. She cursed, upset at the situation and upset that she would ruin her make-up. Her husband told her she had to look her best. Plus, she didn’t want them to know that she was scared. She rose again and took some deep breaths to compose herself. She wished she had a mirror. What if she looked horrible? Voldemort would take that as a failure and he would kill Ginny!

New tears ran down her cheeks and she cursed again.

“That is not very ladylike.”

She turned around and saw a young man with long dark hair leaning against a tree. He was smiling.

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked superstitious.

“The cursing,” he said and walked toward her. “I had never except to hear that from a lady.”

“I have never claimed to be a lady.”

He chuckled. His chuckle was very beautiful. Low and continuous. “In that case… I’m Maximillian Lestrange.”

“Oh, I’m Hermione… Riddle, I guess.”

“I know. No one has failed to hear about the Dark Lord’s Mudblood bride.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. He saw it and quickly added. “I don’t mean to be judgemental; I know what it’s like. Everyone talked about me in the same way last year. I’m the bastard son of Rabastan Lestrange… and a Muggle.”

“Really?” Hermione was surprised. “Why are you talking to me?”

He shrugged. “I just thought you could use a friendly person to talk to. And… well, you are pretty.”

She snorted. “I’m not half as pretty as most of the woman in there. Besides, my husband is the jealous type.”

He waved her objections away. “Those women aren’t natural like you. They are cold and wouldn’t recognise a joke even if it danced naked around them. And I like to live dangerous.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

“What?” he asked mockingly and held out his hands. “Am I not pretty enough for you?”

She smiled and looked at him. He wasn’t very tall, perhaps half a head taller than she. He had a wide chest and large muscles. In this light, his eyes were deep blue and his smile appeared genuine. Despite the fact that she met him at a Death Eater’s party; she couldn’t help but like him.

“Pretty?” she asked with a smile. “Should I think you are pretty?”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I’m not the one with mascara all over my face.”

She groaned. “No… really? Could you help me? I can’t see myself so…”

“Sure,” he stepped forward, took his wand in one hand and her chin in the other. She wasn’t sure what he was doing. A moment later, he stepped back and nodded. “There! Much better.”

“Are you sure? Because you could have made it worse and I wouldn’t notice.”

“Pretty as a picture,” he assured.

“I guess I will have to take you on your word then, Mr Lestrange.”

He made a grimace. “Call me Max, please. Mr Lestrange is a convicted Death Eater.”

“Oh, right then, Max.” She wiped her dress to make sure she was presentable. “I think I will go back inside.”

He nodded. “I’ll return in a minute… I really just came out here to relieve my bladder and I think it really is time now.” He winked and disappeared into the woods.

Hermione laughed and returned to the ballroom. The first thing she noticed was that most of the people were gone. Before she had time to wonder where they all went, Voldemort approached her.

“Hello, wife,” he said and captured her in his arms and led her out to the dance floor. “Where have you been?”

“Narcissa wanted to show me the garden,” Hermione said truthfully. “But then she left and I just… well, wandered around. People are staring at me, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Hm,” he said and looked at her with a frown. “Why did you dance with Severus?”

“Snape? Well, he asked me. I didn’t think I could say no.”

“He asked you?” Voldemort asked in disbelief. “Severus hates dancing.”

“If you have to know, he just wanted to ask me how I was doing. He was my teacher for seven years.”

“That was awfully nice of him.” The band started to play faster and Hermione could barley keep up with Voldemort. Her feet and back was hurting.

“Yes, I think so too,” Hermione said. She was getting very sweaty. “Can’t we sit? I’m very tired.”

Voldemort huffed and as they danced, he led her toward the stairs. A moment later, they were on the platform.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. He looked around and pushed her into an alcove. Hermione stumbled and he captured her between the wall and his own body.

“It’s time for the night’s entertainment,” he whispered. “It’s like the gladiator games in ancient Rome. It may seem a little rough for someone like you. Try to remember that both Muggles and wizards have enjoyed these games for thousands of years and you will not be able to change anything. Just sit back and relax and don’t show any emotions.”

He pulled her back out again and continued to drag her down a hall. Old pictures of long dead wizards and witches were hanging on the wall, but Hermione didn’t have time to really see any of them. All she saw were aristocratic wizards and witches in different environments. Blue and green seemed to be the major colours.

It took a couple of minutes for them to arrive at what Hermione initially thought to be a basement, but it couldn’t be because they walked up stairs, not down. However, when they fully entered she realized it was an arena. It looked very much like the Coliseum in Rome, with an arena made of sand and the seats placed high above it. The Dark Mark was hanging on a banner on the opposite wall from where they were standing, some 50 yards away. Voldemort led her toward the most prominent seats, throne-like for a king and his queen.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, my Lord.” Lucius was standing in the middle of the arena. “Tonight you will see extraordinary fight between animals, Muggles and wizards. First up, a bloodthirsty tigress against the eight-legged Acromantula.”

People cheered, and Hermione felt slightly sick. She never enjoyed fighting; especially not one as brutal as she was certain this would turn out.

Each fight was more horrible than the one before. Hermione tried not to feel sympathy when the blood oozed from the witches skull, or when the tigress got smashed into pieces. Hermione was pinching herself so hard she started to bleed. After a while, Voldemort took her hand and forced her to stop the pinching. He hadn’t said a thing during the show, but now he leaned toward her.

“You look horrified,” he whispered. “This game will be over soon, if you can’t look natural by then, I won’t be pleased.”

Hermione closed her eyes. She remembered her Occlumency lessons. Empty your mind. Remus taught her how to find inner peace and not show your emotions until you were alone. When she opened her eyes again, Lucius was just about to declare the winner. There were a lot of cheers and disappointed groans when people won or lost money on their bets. Voldemort rose and she followed him. He went to Narcissa and waited for Lucius to get out from the arena.

“It was a superb evening, Lucius. I’m pleased,” Voldemort said and placed his hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Lucius said and bowed. “You and your wife are, of course, welcomed back.”

Voldemort squeezed her shoulder.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr and Mrs Malfoy,” Hermione said and bowed her head at them.

“Anytime, Mrs Riddle,” Narcissa said.

Voldemort nodded and led Hermione out from the arena. Hermione didn’t see a thing. She was too busy controlling her emotions. When he Apparated them to their home, she finally let the tears fall.

“You did well,” Voldemort said. She sank down on the bed as the tears ran freely. “You may take your friend home at the end of the year.”

She cried herself to sleep.

That night, she dreamt something special. She was back at the arena. However, it wasn’t the one in Lucius’ home. This was the real thing. The Coliseum in Rome. She was watching the fighters. Some of them were too wounded to stand up. An old man was walking around and let the fighters drink from a stone cup. A moment later, they were dead with a peaceful look on their tortured faces.

She sat up in her bed and breathed; “The Cup of death is in Rome!”
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Contract