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The Contract	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55312 -:- 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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Hi! I’m so sorry it has taken so long to update, but I had a bit of a problem to find a new beta. Now I got a girl from fanfiction.net, called Lady-Gizzy that has helped me with this chapter. I hope you’ll like it!

Review-answers!

Thank you so much, Demonchild, Sadistic_darkstar and mickeyminion for offering to beta my fic! As you can see, I got a new one now… But if I ever ask for one again, I’d love to hear from you again!

Meankitty69; *blushes* sorry it took so long… I hope you like this chapter!

Lyra Aphrodite Moon; Haha, you will find out all about it in this chapter! And I don’t really know what Voldemort’s version of love is… I don’t think he is able to feel so strongly, but perhaps he will shove some version of it! You’ll just have to wait and see!

PyroAngel; Sorry… but they had to do it! More about it in the chapter!

Heidi191979; Haha, all your questions will be answered in this chapter! Enjoy!

Sjauthor; I love to write about Hermione being witty! Hope you like this chapter!

Pixychich; Glad you do!

On with the chapter!

Chapter 12

When Hermione woke up, she was back in her own bed. She turned her head to her right and saw Voldemort sat reading in an armchair next to her. She took a deep breath and he looked up and smiled. Why did he appear so relived?

“You are awake,” he noticed. He leaned forward and placed a hand on her forehead. “And the fever is gone. Can you speak?”

She had to clear her throat before she could answer “Of course I can.”

“Excellent. You gave me quite a scare. However, it seems like you and the baby are stronger than I thought.” He placed a hand on her stomach and caressed it.

She frowned. Why was he being so nice?

“What happened?” she asked.

His hand travelled up to her head again and he stroked her cheek. “You touched a book about the Dark Arts. A very, very dangerous book. You would have died if it weren’t for Miss Radcliff, Snape and I. You have been unconscious for almost a day. I was a little worried when you got a fever, but I suppose it’s understandable…”

“Why?”

He smiled as though he was talking to a small child. “Well, there are always complications when someone is hit by such a powerful curse. You were lucky, however…” He gripped her left hand and showed it to her. “Once the curse reaches the body, there is little one can do. Let this be a lesson for you to be more careful.” He kissed her cheek and rose from the armchair.

Hermione stared at her hand. It looked perfectly normal… except that half her middle finger was missing.

xxx

Hermione tried to tell herself that it wasn’t a big deal. Unfortunately, there was no way to grow her finger back because it had been ripped off by Dark Magic. Nevertheless, it was just a small part of her left hand. A hand she hardly used. She was right handed.

However, through the next couple of weeks, she found herself staring at what was left of her finger. It looked quite appalling. Ginny started to cry when she saw it. Hermione didn’t cry. She just tried not to think about it.

In the middle of December, Voldemort grew tired of finding her staring at the finger instead of reading about the Cups. He charmed her finger so it appeared to be whole, even if it wasn’t. Hermione didn’t have any feeling in the finger, but at least it didn’t look so revolting. She could finally concentrate on her work.

The raid in Switzerland had been a success and she found herself with hundreds of new books. Voldemort removed all books which could be mortally dangerous, but she couldn’t help but to be extra careful. Every time she reached for a new book, she touched it with a quill before she touched it with her own hands.

The book she found most interesting was the book written by Helga Hufflepuff’s grandson. He wrote everything there was to know about the famous fonder. He even mentioned the Cup some times. Helga used it to provide food for everyone at the school. She also used the Cup for Healing. The school rules hadn’t been clear those days, and with so many young wizards and witches, accidents were doomed to happen. Thanks to Helga and the Cup, almost everyone survived.

xxx

Late one night, just a week before Christmas, Hermione was sitting next to the fire in the library. It hadn’t begun to snow yet, but it was very cold in the room. She had been reading the book all day.

She turned to the next page.

My grandmother often told us about her friends; Godric, Rowena and Salazar. My mother told me that grandmother was the only one who cried when Salazar left them. Grandmother always loved everyone. That is why I wasn’t surprised when Salazar on day appeared on our doorstep. It was just before grandmother died and she was too weak to get up form the bed. Surprisingly, they had an argument about grandmother’s magical Goblet. He accused her for hiding it from him. She told him it was because she wanted to save him from himself. Immortality is a curse, not something to yearn for, she said. He laughed at her and ordered her to give him the Goblet. She told him the truth, that she had already given it to my sister Marion so she could help the helpless Muggles in our country. He left her. I took my horse and rode to Sherwood Forest to warn my sister. Thankfully, Salazar never found her.

Hermione closed the book. So the Cup of Life had been here in England, somewhere around the thirteenth century. Hermione frowned. What happened to the Cup when Marion died? And what about the Cup of Death? It was clear that Slytherin thought the Cup could give him immortality. No wonder Voldemort thought the same. At least she could be sure the Cups existed. She had enough different sources to draw that conclusion.

Now they had to find out if the writer of the diary from the eighteenth century was right when he claimed that he had seen both of the Cups. He had said that one Cup was still in “the Nordic lands” which could mean Britannia, but also Scandinavia. South America was quite big as well. She needed to narrow down the area. Where should she search? It was just like the time they had searched for Nicolas Flamel. She was still beating herself up for not remembering where she had read his name sooner.

With some difficulty, she got up from the armchair. Her stomach was quite big now; as she was in her sixth month. She was a bit anxious about meeting everyone at Christmas. Ginny was still uncomfortable with Hermione’s pregnancy. How would the others take it? She still didn’t know how she felt about it! She could feel the baby move and kick sometimes, however, it still felt quite unreal.

She took the Floo back to their bedroom. Voldemort was already in bed. He hadn’t been around for two days, so she was quite surprised to see him. He had been away on some secret mission.

“Hello,” he said as she waddled toward the bed. He looked very tired and content.

“I trust everything went well?” she asked with an uncertain feeling. If things were well for him, it usually meant that it was bad for someone else.

“Oh, yes.” He said with a smirk.

Hermione massaged her back as she sat down. She never thought about the ache when she was reading, but it always nagged her when she was about to sleep. Another thing that nagged her was the horniness she was experiencing. Voldemort hadn’t made a move on her since the morning after Halloween and she tried to work out her courage to ask him… But not tonight. He was tired.

“How are you?” he asked.

Another thing she thought about a lot was their relationship. She was sure he would still kill her if he got the chance. Most times, she wanted to kill him. However, since they couldn’t they had reached some kind of peace. They didn’t talk about their many differences. If they talked, it was about their research of the Cups, books and things like that. She realised that there was no reason to argue with him, because they were both too stubborn to get anywhere. She just tried to live with him. That meant she had to ignore what he did. All she could do was to lay low until the baby was born and try to slip messages to Snape when she met him, which wasn’t often.

“My back and feet are hurting,” she said and tried to reach a spot on her back. “Don’t you think I should visit a Healer? Just to see that everything is okay with the baby?”

“Why not,” he said and placed his hand on her back and started to massage it. “I hired a female Healer for my Death Eaters months ago. I could talk to her.”

“Thank you.” Hermione closed her eyes as his hands wandered over her back. “Wow, that mission must have gone very well.”

“It did. Are you still planning to go with your friend to her home on Christmas Eve?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?” she asked suspiciously.

“No reason. But I will take protective measures to make sure nothing happens to you. A shielding charm and a Portkey, I think.” His hands came up to her shoulders.

“Who did you kill?” she asked with a frosty feeling in her stomach.

“No one, actually. But you know the Order. They don’t like me.” He kissed her neck and Hermione was sure he had done something she wouldn’t like. “Did you like the book from Hufflepuff’s grandson?”

“It was very interesting. I think the Cups exist, but we have to narrow down the search. And don’t you think someone should have seen them for the last 250 years.” She rearranged the covers over her body. “However, I have no idea where to search, and since I still don’t know what you will do with them once you have them… You know I don’t want to help you.”

“Ah, but you are too curious to not help me,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, I could just force you to do it.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, I know.”

“So don’t feel guilty.” He lay down on his back again.

“Strangely enough, I don’t,” she confessed. The truth was that she didn’t feel guilty because she hoped Dumbledore would find the Cups before Voldemort did. She hadn’t felt guilty about it since she talked to Snape.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled.

“I’m not your girl,” she reminded him.

He waved his hand and the lights went out. Then he placed his hand on her stomach.

“If you say so.” She could hear him smirk.

She sighed and fell asleep.

xxx

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Hermione awoke with a knot in her stomach. A nervous knot, not just the baby.

She didn’t know why, but she had never liked Christmas Eve. Christmas Day was always fun because you began the day with getting a lot of presents, however Christmas Eve was… unpleasant. She didn’t have any first cousins, since none of her parents had any siblings. Until she was ten, they spent every Christmas at her grandmother’s house. Hermione always thought her grandmother was scary. The food was disgusting and the house smelt like something had died in it. After the age of five, her parents always made sure she got a good meal before they went to her grandmother. They didn’t want her to get cranky.

Hermione’s grandmother had been a bitter old lady. She lost her husband in World War II and she took every opportunity she got to nag about the Germans. When Hermione got older, she realised that her grandmother was just very sad and didn’t know how to deal with it.

When Hermione was ten, her grandmother passed away and the Granger’s tried to start a new tradition; celebrating Christmas with Hermione’s dad’s uncle. The uncle had three children and all of them had a couple of children each. Since Hermione was the kind of girl she was, the other children thought she was weird. They didn’t invite her to any games, but one of the adults saw it and forced the other children to play card with her. Hermione hadn’t liked it. They all cheated and invented new rules. In the end, she had just gone to her father’s uncle’s bookshelf and picked down a book about cars. It wasn’t funny, but it was better than the card game.

They did this for two years in a row, but when Hermione got her letter from Hogwarts, they decided to just stay home. Hermione had spent the whole vacation trying to explain to her parents what magic was. They had only been confused. Christmas was an uncomfortable thing that year. The only happy Christmas she had had was the ones she had spent in the Burrow or at Hogwarts. Her parents just didn’t understand her the way her friends did.

This Christmas Eve, she would meet her friends again. However, for some reason, she didn’t think it would be as fun as the others had been…

“What are you thinking about?” Voldemort asked and broke through her unhappy thoughts.

They were eating breakfast. Or, at least he was eating breakfast; she was just playing with her food.

“Just my parents,” she mumbled.

“Oh.”

She looked up. “Oh?”

He was frowning. “It never occurred to me that you have… well, parents. I now realise you must have. You are still so young.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘it never occurred to you’, you were the one who killed them!”

He looked very surprised. “Killed them? Whatever for?”

“Well, because I’m a Mudblood and friends with Harry Potter! Who else would have taken them if it wasn’t you?”

“Wait. Now I’m confused. You accuse me for murdering your parents… but now you say that they were taken?”

“Well, we never found their bodies.” Hermione felt like someone had thrown cold water over her. “I just assumed you or your Death Eaters had taken them.”

He seemed thoughtful. “Well, I see why you would blame me. When did they disappear?”

“Almost three years ago,” she said.

“Hmm.” He rose from the armchair. “I am quite sure we had nothing to do with it, but I’ll look into it. We keep records of all important people we murder and kidnap.”

“Would my parents be important?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, they are your parents, and you are Harry Potter’s best friend,” he said with a smile.

Hermione couldn’t believe what he was saying. She had not got over her parents’ disappearance, but she had accepted that she would never see them again. And now Voldemort told her he had nothing to do with it? Then who had taken them? Had they been taken at all? She didn’t realise she had been talking out loud until Voldemort answered her.

“Well, the Death Eaters aren’t the only people in the world who do things like that. Muggles are quite good at it too.”

“But who would want to kidnap or murder my parents? They were just dentists!” She got up from the armchair as well.

“I told you I will look into it,” he said. “Finish your breakfast.”

Hermione looked down at the table were her half eaten sandwich still lie. “I’m not hungry.”

“You will be hungry in just an hour if you don’t eat now.” He took a firm grip of her wrist and led her back to the table. “And by then, you’ll be at the Weasleys. I will not have them believe that I don’t take good care of you.”

She stared at him. “Why? You don’t take good care of me.”

He scowled. “Yes I do. I could keep you looked inside the dungeons.”

“Oh… then why don’t you?”

“Because, against popular belief, I can be nice.”

She frowned. “So it has nothing to do with propaganda? You don’t want people to believe that I have changed side?”

“Why would you think that?” She noticed that he didn’t deny it.

“Oh, I just heard that some people think that, in exchange for my knowledge of the Order, you married me.”

He just snorted.

“So have you told everyone that we are under a Contract?” Hermione asked.

“I have told… some Death Eaters that we are under a Contract. They are the ones who are trying to find a way to break it. I don’t have to explain myself for anyone.”

“So all these rumours about me betraying Harry are just loose speculations?”

“Well, there will always be rumours.” He said with a shrug as he walked towards the bathroom.

Hermione stared after him. He didn’t deny that he had anything to do with the rumours. However, people had always liked to gossip. She sighed and continued with her breakfast. She managed to eat the rest of her sandwich and some yoghurt before Voldemort came back. This time he was holding a necklace in his hand.

“This will protect you against most curses. It will also transport you back to me if you are in grave danger or if you say the safe word which is ‘Skolts’.”

“Skolts?” she asked and looked at the necklace. It didn’t look powerful. It was just a small emerald which had been shaped as a teardrop suspended on a silver chain. She held up her hair so he could place it around her neck.

“Yes, it’s a small group in the north of Finland. I had to pick something I didn’t think you would speak about. But if nothing happens, the Portkey will transport you back at midnight.” He took a step back and looked at her. “What will you wear?”

She shrugged. “Some robes I guess.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he went to their wardrobe and pulled out a dark red dress. “Put this on.”

She did and he helped her button it up. “Can’t I wear knickers now?”

He smirked. “I thought you had got used to living without knickers.”

“I have but… there will be other men there, and you won’t be there to make sure they don’t get… tempted.”

His eyes narrowed. “Minx.”

She just smiled. She had learned a thing or two about this game since they got married. Like she had predicted, he went to get her a pair of knickers. The only problem was that they were too small. She groaned and he smirked.

“Good thing you have such a long dress, dear,” he said with a smirk.

She pulled out her tongue at him. He took it as an invitation to kiss her. She didn’t object. His mouth wandered down to her neck. She moaned as he started to suck. It took her a couple of moments before she realised what he was doing. She pushed him off.

He smirked. “Now no one will believe I don’t take good care of you.”

She touched the love bite and groaned. “You are evil.”

“You like it.”

“I’m pregnant, I like to eat mustard on cucumber,” she retorted.

He arched his eyebrows. “You do?”

“Haven’t you noticed?”

“No.”

She rolled her eyes. It was a good they didn’t spend so much time together. He would drive her insane if they did.

“Go and get your friend,” Voldemort said. “I have made another Portkey that will take you to their village.”

Hermione was about to go to Ginny’s room when she suddenly realised she had forgot her parents. “Wait! How do I know you will tell me the truth about my parents?”

He sighed. “Why would I lie about such a thing? If it turns out my Death Eaters did take them, the worse thing you can do is refuse to talk to me. Which would be a relief, I assure you.”

She made a grimace and went to get Ginny. The red haired girl was very nervous. Her hair reached over her ears now and it would take years before it reached the length she had had before she got captured. She also needed to gain a couple of stone. Hermione hoped Ginny would get much better once she came home and could eat and walk as she pleased.

“Are you ready?” Hermione asked.

Ginny looked up from the bed. “What if they don’t want me back?”

“Of course they do,” Hermione assured her. She was more worried they wouldn’t want to see her. “Come on, my husband has made a Portkey.”

Ginny nodded and took Hermione’s hand. She looked down at her feet all the way back to Hermione’s room. Hermione tried to be patient with her. Ginny had been through a lot. Nevertheless, did she have to act like a scared little rabbit? Hermione took a deep breath. The hormones made her very irritated.

Voldemort handed her the Portkey. Hermione made sure Ginny touched it and then closed her eyes. She felt like something took a hold around her waist and a moment later she landed ungracefully on a field. She cursed when fell down in the snow. When she got up she realised that she wasn’t wet at all, only cold. Voldemort must have put some water-repellent charm on the dress. How thoughtful. She wondered why. She knew her husband well enough to understand that he had some plan about sending her here. As she and Ginny started to walk toward the Burrow, she wondered what it could be.
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The Contract