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The Prisoner	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 63579 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 13
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
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: I thank everyone who read, rated and especially reviewed: Jess, Lazy_Heart, MalfoysBitch, Punxrose, kit, Fleur K., mrequecky, Laura, ChlerysTUCCO, FlyHitsWindow, among others, Gabby0515, Landquist, SarahLuvsZombehs, somebody french, Alassea Malfoy, Midnightermoony, Freya, nmvd, m0nt, Anon, Lady Miya.

Review replies can be found at: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/19576-the-prisoner-by-nerys

xxx

Special thanks to my betas: Serpent In Red and Cosettex.

xxx

The Prisoner

Previously: 'Whatever did you see in that man?' Tom asked incredulously.

Chapter 12: Outed

'Apart from excelling in running away,' he mockingly continued with a smirk on his face, tilting his head as if in deep thought, 'like certain … ferrets, I really don't get the attraction of—' He stopped talking when she struggled in his hold.

'Let me go,' Hermione said urgently, feeling his arms tightening around her.

'You can't possibly want to go after him,' Tom hissed angrily. 'Not after what he just called you.'

It stung being reminded of Ron's words, but the anger in Riddle's voice was more worrisome. Recalling he'd been balancing on the edge of some kind of dangerous episode before, Hermione stopped struggling and met his eyes calmly.

'I need to stop him before he starts broadcasting our relationship to the world,' she said carefully. 'Please, let me prevent that. It's in your interest, too.'

'I don't see how you can possibly prevent that. He's going to love getting everyone's sympathy and being the victim in—'

'Please, let me go,' Hermione interrupted. 'I don't have time to explain it right now. It'll be minutes before he reaches the staircase.'

'Take off your coat,' he ordered sharply.

'What?' she asked, bemused.

'Take off your coat.'

'Fine,' she muttered, shaking her head at the ridiculous order. He let go of her when she began shrugging off her coat. 'I plan to come back anyway. You don't need a hostage coat,' she mocked, sitting up and handing him the requested item.

His eyes flashed over her outfit in displeasure. He clearly had issues with her going after Ron in anything that wasn't a wide sack that covered her from head to toe.

'You were the one who wanted the coat,' she snapped, rolling her eyes as she scrambled to her feet and started running. Those were his clothing demands in the first place, and it wasn't like Ron hadn't seen everything there was to see already.

'I don't know how you're going to convince him, but that better not involve letting him touch you!'

Not dignifying that with an answer, Hermione furiously slammed the door to.

Men! Really.

Her simple skirt and blouse weren't that big a deal in her opinion. Sure, she wore nothing underneath and the tight skirt ended mid-thigh, but it wasn't like they were see-through. When she exited the circular corridor, she noticed to her horror that Ron had almost reached the door to the staircase.

'Ron!' she shouted, running faster now that the magic-suppressing wards were no longer inhibiting the spells she'd cast on her high heels to make walking on them easier. 'Ron, wait!'

His shoulders tensed, and he quickened his pace. Realising she'd never be fast enough to catch up with him, she stopped and focused every last ounce of her magic on that door.

Colloportus, she thought adamantly, knowing it would be enough since Ron wouldn't have a wand on him here. Colloportus.

Feeling her magic swirl around her before unleashing itself in the direction of the door, she stared anxiously as Ron placed his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it. He grabbed it with both hands and wrestled the immobile knob futilely. Hermione let out a relieved sigh and walked towards him. It had worked. That door wouldn't open, not until she cast the counter spell.

'What's wrong with this blasted door?' Ron shouted, yanking harder at it before kicking it in frustration.

'Didn't you hear that squelching noise that indicates the use of Colloportus?' she asked in her usual bossy voice. 'I charmed the door shut.'

'Then, bloody well uncharm it!' he exclaimed, turning around abruptly. His angry, blue eyes glanced over her body. Hurt briefly flashed over his face, and he blinked while clenching his fists and swallowing. His expression turned hard.

'No,' she said.

'Open this bloody door, Hermione.'

'No,' she repeated, steady. 'We need to talk.'

'No, we don't,' he snapped, shaking his head. 'I have absolutely nothing to say to you.'

'Well, what else is new,' she said, irritated. 'Just walk away, like you always do.'

'Like I always do—like I always do?' he hissed. 'I'm not the one fucking another, Hermione.'

Surprised, she looked at him. Wasn't he jumping the gun a bit too fast? How the hell would he know that? Sure, she'd been lying on top of Riddle, but that didn't indicate she'd been fucking him.

'Yes, I know about that,' Ron continued viciously. 'I'm sterile, Hermione. I cannot have any children. So, we—'

Panic rushed through her. He knew he was sterile. However, upon thinking that, she realised: He knew he was sterile! Anger pushed the panic away.

'You knew you were sterile and still let me take those god-awful, unhealthy fertility potions!' she shouted angrily.

'I got you fake ones instead!' he yelled back.

'Fake ones … Fake ones …' She took a deep breath before exploding. 'As in those illegal things one buys at Knockturn Alley, which recent investigation has shown contain toxic chemicals!' she roared, clenching her fists. 'Oh yes, that's so much better. Thank you so very much for taking my health under consideration. You arse!'

'Don't you make this my fault! I'm not the one lying on top of Lord Voldemort!'

'Yeah,' she snarled. 'I was lying on top of Lord Voldemort. Oh dear, there can only be one explanation for that: I must be screwing him. It never once, not once, occurred to you that I might be in need of some help there. That I could be in danger. No, you do what you always do. You see something, you interpret and judge, and then, everyone around you has to suffer for it. It's always the same, whether it's Harry or me, you just never learn.'

'Oh yeah, come on then, bring up every little thing I ever did wrong, like you're Miss Perfect yourself.'

'At least I am not spending my entire afternoon sitting on my arse watching reruns of Pop Idol. Newsflash: Will Young won. It's not going the be any more interesting or change when you watch it the second time around.'

'So just because it's a book you bury yourself in, you think you're so much better than me. You become completely inapproachable; you don't even hear a word I say. Ever.'

'Because everything that comes out of your mouth are such pearls I must take notice,' she sneered. 'Oh, did you hear the horrible news? The Chudley Cannon's new Keeper has a wart on his arse. How will he cope? Let's discuss what everyone on staff—including the groundskeeper—feels about this massive catastrophe.'

'It wasn't a wart. He had a furuncle!'

'Oh my mistake, it was a furuncle. My, my, what a disaster. The world will surely come to an end.'

'You never show any interest in anything that I like.'

'I went to plenty of Quidditch games with you. You were the one acting like a complete buffoon towards the other team's players and supporters. I've never been so embarrassed in my life.'

'Yeah, well, that's always it, isn't it? You're always embarrassed about what I do. It's never good enough for Hermione Granger, Head Girl Extraordinaire and straight "O" student.'

'Why do you always need to put me down? There is nothing wrong with me getting the best grades or having been Head Girl. Maybe if you'd actually finished your education, you'd be able to understand that.'

'Yes, why don't you go and discuss it with Mr Perfect, Finished-Education, Head Boy down the corridor? He surely made something of his life.'

'Well, at least he wouldn't have let his fellow prefect pick up all the slack. Professor Dumbledore really shouldn't have passed Harry up just because he thought he had enough on his plate already. I had to do everything that year. You were positively useless—' Ron's ears turned red in fury but Hermione was nowhere near done yet. '—as you've always been. Accusing Harry of putting his name in the Goblet of Fire, snogging Lavender just because Ginny made a comment you couldn't take, running off to your brother's when we needed you most. And you dared to call Draco Malfoy a coward. Take a good look in the mirror, Blondie. You're obviously related.'

'Like you never snogged Krum.'

'At least he saw I was a girl!'

'Well, maybe if you weren't always trying to look like a hag, others would've seen it sooner, too.'

The slap against his cheek resonated through the corridor.

'Open the fucking door, Hermione,' Ron snarled between clenched teeth.

'Why don't you open it yourself, Mr Brilliant? You're soooo good. You didn't need a completed education to become an Auror. Surely, that means that you don't need any help from a hag, a rotten Head Girl or straight "O" student to get past a measly closed door.'

'You can be such a fucking bitch.'

'Bitch? Well, that's a new one.' She laughed humourlessly. 'So now I am a bitch; you've not seen my bitch side yet, Ronald Bilius Weasley.' She took a threatening step closer to him. 'And you really don't want to be on the receiving end of it. Trust me.'

'You're pregnant with someone else's child. I think I got the full dose of your bitchnesses.'

Bitchnesses, Hermione mouthed mockingly.

'I want a divorce,' he added, shaking in anger.

'Consider it done,' she snapped.

'And I want you and your things out of my house before I get home tonight.'

Hermione smirked. 'No.'

'What?'

'It's my flat. The lease is in my name. So, why don't you move in with your mummy or Bill? I'm not leaving. You can get all your orange shit and move yourself out before I get home tonight.'

Ron's eyes were tiny stripes, and again, he clenched and unclenched his fists. 'As long as you make sure I don't have to look at your ugly face when I do so. I've seen enough of it today, going into that hideous shop. No need to deny you went in there for him either. It's common knowledge Bellatrix used to shop there for him, too. And you're really are becoming just like her, having people kneel for you on the street.'

Hermione swung her arm around, but Ron caught it this time before her hand made contact with his face. The reaction was instantaneous. When his fingers curled around her forearm, Hermione felt something spark violently inside of her, and Ron jumped back, doubling over and clinging to his wrist as he screamed out in pain. She kind of enjoyed it. A lot.

'What the fuck was that?' he yelped, looking up at her, panting.

Hermione ignored his question and focused on his previous comments. 'You were following me?' she hissed quietly.

'Of course I was! You were cheating on me!' he shouted, straightening out carefully whilst flexing his fingers with a pained expression. 'When that guard upstairs told me you've been visiting him here for months—'

'They're not allowed to give out that information. Who told you?'

'I'm an Auror, Hermione; when I flash my credentials, they have to.'

'Who told you?' she repeated.

Ron pressed his lips firmly together, his face contorted in a sneer.

'Ah,' Hermione said, waving dismissively with her hand. 'I'll leave that up to Katie then. Whoever it was will be out of a job by nightfall. She already loves the staff here so much after the Rumsfield incident.'

'I don't think it's the staff here that should be worried about their jobs,' Ron said, staring at her pointedly.

'You're absolutely right,' Hermione replied, unabashed. 'Since, as an Auror, you're supposed to know it's a criminal offence to track a known Unspeakable. I could have you tossed in jail for this.'

'Well, maybe you'll like me better then,' he sneered.

'Don't count on it,' she replied coldly. 'I sincerely doubt you'll be any more interesting in prison than outside of it.'

'You, you, you—'

'I what? Used up all your creative swear words already?' she sneered. 'Maybe you'd have a bigger vocabulary if you picked up a book once in a while? But let's not ask for the impossible, shall we? Just looking at that stupid transfiguration that's on your finger says it all,' she deliberately taunted.

Ron yanked off the fake ring and tossed it at her head. 'There,' he snapped, his face scrunching up in irritation when the ring dissolved into thin air before hitting her. 'It's not like I want anything to do with Voldemort's fuck buddy anyway.'

'Good. No, perfect. I want you out of my life and my business anyway. Just a bit of advice, for old time's sake, since I know how you're prone to make stupid decisions on impulse,' she mocked, 'I don't recommend you broadcasting around what you've learned here today. If you do, McGregor will have a team of Hitwizards on your arse so fast, you won't even be able to have a tantrum about the Cannons losing again tonight.'

Ron smiled viciously. 'I can't wait till Harry hears of your betrayal.'

Hermione stilled. After a moment of silence, she shook her head sadly. 'This is so typically you. You're hurt, so you have to spread it around.'

'Harry has a right to know you're fucking Lord Voldemort.'

'It's not your business to tell Harry anything.'

'Hell it is. I'm his best frie—' Hermione snorted through his speech causing him to grit his teeth before continuing, 'I'm not letting you hurt him.'

'You have no idea what I'm doing here or why I am even here,' she said quietly. 'All you care about is your own hurt feelings.'

His eyes flickered over her appearance demonstratively. 'It's pretty obvious what you're doing here with that outfit.'

'Oh, yes, the "whorish" skirt and blouse that I've worn a thousand times before.' She snorted. 'Why don't you just fuck off, Ronald Weasley.'

She turned on her heels and paced back.

'Yeah, go back to screwing him!'

'He's got my coat, moron!'

'You'll never measure up! You're not a pure-blood like his previous squeeze! Though, he seems to prefer shagging married witches so maybe, once you're divorced, he'll drop you like yesterday's paper … into the garbage … where you belong! Smartest witch, my arse! Skeeter had it right. You're nothing but a stupid slut who thinks she knows everything when all you do is quote books! You'll—'

Ron's mouth closed abruptly upon watching a burst of violent, red magic crackle through the air towards him when a furious Hermione swatted her hand in his direction without looking. He yelped and dove to the ground.

Don't cast when you're emotional.

Too late the words echoed through her brain as she spun around.

The wards! We're going to die! she thought, panicking upon watching how her cast magic soared over Ron's head and smashed into the door.

Quickly, she placed her feet slightly apart, ready to block any and all devastating action that would come next. The doorframe brightened sharply, blinding them both, when there was a loud crack, and then, something heavy flew through the air and smacked down on top of Ron, knocking him out fully.

'RON!' Hermione yelled fearfully, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.

Yet, she didn't move since she was waiting for the wards to come tumbling down upon them as the floor underneath her feet trembled. If the wards were to activate, she would've limited time to halt their deadly progress and get them to safety. Her mind didn't dwell on the only safe haven she'd have to drag Ron into, nor did she dwell on whether or not he was even alive at the moment. Hermione was in full combat mode, acting on instinct and dealing with the right priorities first: survival.

There was a low buzz echoing through the corridor. Though she couldn't see it, she sensed something magical passing by. Yet, nothing else happened. It became silent and calm all around her. It had probably been an Identifying Ward, put in to function as a safeguard, Hermione realised.

When the initial shock wore off and she was sure they were no longer in any danger, she ran back towards Ron. She'd only wanted to undo her 'Colloportus', not use the door as a battering ram on her ex-husband. However, she'd lost control of her magic when his words struck a raw nerve inside of her. Quickly, she levitated the door off him. With a tiny flick of her wrist, it smashed back into its frame intact. She squatted down and checked his vitals. Fortunately, he was only unconscious. She could tell he would remain that way for quite some time, but he was still breathing. Relieved, she leaned back on her heels and rose. He might have a couple of bruises, but nothing substantial was damaged.

Thick skull, indeed, her mind snarked viciously. Not that there is much to scramble up there.

Not bothering to revive Ron, Hermione turned on her heels and stalked away. After all, he found himself so marvellous that he shouldn't need any help from stupid sluts to get up.

A little voice tried to tell her to do something, to wake him, because this was all her fault and he might need some magical assistance to rise, but she was too proud to do so and paced on a bit faster. Stuffing her guilty feelings away, she came to a halt in front of the door.

xxx

As she placed her hand on the wooden doorknob, anxiety overwhelmed her. It had been a long time ago that she'd had hesitations about going to Riddle. Then again, not even when she'd first found herself in his cell had he threatened her in this manner. Sure, there'd been moments before, moments when that cold killer slipped through his act. And it had instilled fear in her, sent her adrenaline spiking through the roof and made her act cautious and controlled in hopes of abating the danger. When that had worked, when he'd receded and she'd remained unharmed, she'd felt so victorious. Blood would be pounding through her body, instilling a rush of pleasure inside that only served to heighten her arousal and build up her attraction to him. It felt like playing with fire when you were a child, only a thousand times better.

Today, she'd balanced on the edge of life and an utterly slow and gruesome death. There was nothing arousing about that at all. Sure, she knew what he was capable of the entire time—it was part of the reason she was even here: because she knew. She wasn't here for silly notions of love. She wasn't in love with Lord Voldemort. Hermione scoffed at the suggestion. There was lust, a lot of lust, yes. His dominating nature had sparked a side of her she'd never realised existed, and he fulfilled the needs of that side—as he did with all things—to perfection. She'd found that there was more to the man than she'd originally given him credit for, and she loved their discussions. She loved how he challenged her intellectually, how brilliant he could be—even though the competitive side of her wanted to stab him repeatedly for always having the last word—and she loved how they had so much in common despite of their differences, but she didn't love him, her new husband.

Her head turned, and with an aching heart, she briefly stared at the motionless body of her ex. She'd loved Ron and look how ugly that had turned out. Feeling her eyes beginning to water, she looked away up to the ceiling and took a deep breath, pushing those emotions away. It was no use anyway. Love was a hindrance, a bother, that caused your mind to malfunction and disabled all logical reasoning. This time she'd gone for the practical approach instead of love. As long as Riddle was safely tucked away in his cell, this marriage could work out perfectly for her. Should he escape, this marriage would protect those she cared about the most, and her new husband wasn't anywhere near the top of that list. No, she didn't love Tom, not at all, and she was pretty sure he returned that favour. She knew he wasn't in love with her, but that didn't stop her from enjoying his company when he wasn't trying to kill her.

He won't do that now. He'll be in control of himself again. He already was when you left, her mind said reassuringly as she clutched to the doorknob yet didn't turn it.

Sure, keep playing with fire until you get burned to a crisp, another part of her brain snarled back.

No, I'm going to beat him. Again, she decided firmly, ignoring the many objections flashing through her mind as she stubbornly turned the knob.

Her mind still determined, she went back into his cell in a flurry, only to freeze on the spot and having to make more of an effort than she cared to admit to not have her jaw drop. The door slipped out of her fingers as she stared at Tom Marvolo Riddle, shirtless. Arching an eyebrow, she decided that whatever game he was playing now wasn't going to work on her. So, she folded her arms over each other and simply enjoyed the view as he was busy dabbing a moist towel against his forearm.

Sure, she'd seen him completely nude, but then she'd been rather … 'preoccupied'. Now, she had a good chance to marvel at that tall body of his with that flawless skin. She just loved his lean and sinewy build. She already had felt his strength when he'd held her in his arms, knew his skinny appearance when dressed was rather deceptive and made it easy to underestimate what he was physically capable of. Now, she could tell that his muscles were toned but not overly so, more a sign of a strong, healthy person as opposed to someone who lifted weights vigorously. Her eyes slowly went over his arms, his chest, his abdomen … where his pale skin clashed heavily with the black trousers he had on. Following those long legs, she noted his pale feet sticking out. For some reason, that made her blush and she looked back up, noticing he was now pressing the towel quite firmly against his arm. It was the arm farthest away from her, and she had no idea why he was doing that. She was about to ask when he spoke first.

'Is he dead?' Riddle asked conversationally.

'Pardon?' Hermione said, blinking confused.

He turned to face her fully, giving her an even better view of his nude, smooth upper body, which was much appreciated but not helpful in getting a comprehensive answer. Instead, she just stared, unabashed.

'I felt the floor move,' he said with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, his hand holding the towel in place. 'So naturally, given your previous magical record,' he added seriously, his face turning thoughtful, 'I was extremely "concerned" for your ex's health.'

He even managed to pull a convincing, worried expression with that bull. His impeccable acting skills erupted an exasperated scowl on her face.

'Ron's just fine.'

'Pity.'

After a brief pause, his face brightened. 'Then again, that means there is more left for me.'

'What are you doing?' Hermione asked, nodding to his arm in an effort to divert the subject away from Ron. She really just wanted to forget he ever existed. That had to have been the most terrible row she'd ever had.

'What, no reprimand, no you shall not touch—' He suddenly stopped talking in that upbeat tone of voice and took several steps in her direction until he halted right in front of her. 'Don't let that twit get to you,' he said softly.

She looked up and sent him a weak smile. 'I'm not.'

'Hmm… you could've fooled me.'

'I'm fine. It's just …' She sighed. 'We had a horrible row, and I just want to forget about it.'

'Forgetting about it won't make him and his big mouth go away.'

'Yeah, well, he's not going to be blabbering about it for long. Once Katie gets word of this, she'll have to nip it in the bud. Her arse is on the line more than mine.'

'Why didn't you just Obliviate him?'

Hermione looked down, scratching her neck nervously. The problem with the Memory Charm was that Ron wouldn't remember. In a sense, it was a relief he'd figured it out—no more sneaking around, no more having to deal with him on a daily basis and lie, no more having to feel guilty about that and no more pretend smiles and happiness to act out. She no longer had to worry on how to approach the issue of divorce delicately because Ron had already asked for one. Sure, him knowing raised inevitable new issues, but those were easier to deal with.

'I see,' Riddle added slowly.

Her head snapped back up. She'd not said a thing. He couldn't possibly read her this easily, could he?

'You need to get a good Orator immediately,' he ordered formally.

'No.'

Her brusque reply caused him to arch an eyebrow, and she quickly added, 'I can't have legal representation beforehand if I want to pull this off. Katie has to make her move first.'

'McGregor? I thought you wanted to keep all this—' He gestured between them. '—a secret?'

'That was Plan A.'

'Plan A could've still been in operation if you'd just Obliviated Weasley. Since you didn't, you need an Orator to gag him and protect your interests before your boss and everyone else finds out.'

'Plan A sucked,' Hermione stated surely. 'I'm officially designating it Plan S for all the suckiness, silliness, stupidness and stupendousness it contained. Plan B is hereby promoted to A. I should've gone that way right from the start, far less loose ends to tie up.'

'Right,' he replied, sounding incredibly satisfied. 'I stand corrected. You don't need a good Orator. You need an unscrupulous one.'

'Way ahead of you,' she said triumphantly. 'I've got it covered.' Gesturing with her hand alongside his nude torso, she added daringly, 'So, what's with the strip show?'

'You disapprove?'

She shrugged and made a face. 'Well, I'm having some issues with the trousers and the towel, but otherwise …'

'These are perfectly fine trousers,' he countered, snapping the waistband with his fingers in a tease.

Her eyes briefly lingered on the line between skin and fabric with the knowledge of what lay contained underneath, before looking back up and finding out that his face had turned positively smug.

'What about the wet towel then?' she teased back, folding her arms over each other. 'Aren't they included in the perfectly fine category? They might feel discriminated against.'

'They should. They're not really doing the job.'

'What job?'

'You really want to find out?'

She ignored his penetrating, calculating gaze, tossed her hands in the air and mocked, 'Oh yes, please do explain the nature of the mysterious towel to me.'

'I'm not sure you have the stomach for it, but very well,' he said lightly and lifted the towel.

Hermione gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth in utter shock. There was an angry red stripe on Tom's forearm that had severely broken the skin. Purplish welts had swollen at the far end and the start of the wound, and there was blood leaking from the edges of those welts. That was when she noticed there was quite a substantial amount of blood visible all over the white towel.

'Oh God,' she whispered, grabbing his other arm and quickly turning him. He actually limped due to her sudden move, making her recall she'd struck his leg, too. She let go off him as if she were stung by a bee, fearing she'd hurt him even more.

'So-sorry,' she stuttered whilst her eyes focused on his legs, not quite sure which one it was again and not getting much information from the trousers, which appeared perfectly fine.

Then, she looked up to check on his back and wished she hadn't. His back was in even worse condition than his arm. Two large, gaping wounds had leaked blood all over his back. There was already bruising visible around them. It looked positively horrifying. She staggered back. Her hands flew in her hair while she shook her head in distress of having done this.

'I–I …' She stopped talking, not knowing what to say and a mere apology for this felt somehow grossly inadequate. He couldn't even use magic to heal himself.

'No need to freak out, Hermione. What's done is done,' Riddle said calmly, turning towards her and thus granting her the relief of not having to see his back anymore.

'Bu-but I did that. I,' she emphasised, pointing to his arm. Disbelief flashed over her face as her eyes wandered to the nylon cane leaning against the wall and the sink. 'With that thin, light thing? How can that be?'

He snorted. 'You're so deliciously innocent.'

'Your clothes aren't even ripped,' she added, frowning.

'I'd rather they were,' he replied seriously. 'If the energy of the blows had been more superficial, they'd shredded my clothes instead of my body. However, since you laid your full weight into your swings, the energy travelled farther before doing their dama—'

He stopped talking abruptly when her face fell and her eyes lowered to the floor during his explanation. With one step, he closed the distance between them and took a hold of her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

'I've had far worse, Hermione,' he said softly, cupping her cheek.

'You don't look it,' she whispered, not meeting his eyes and then realising what a stupid thing she'd just said. He'd got a new body. Of course there wouldn't be any marks. 'Sorry,' she said again. 'I didn't mean—I wasn't calling you a liar. I keep forgetting this isn't your old body.'

'Yeah, you and me both,' he muttered. 'Must be why you've got pregnant. I didn't realise that would be undone. It didn't happen the last time I resurrected.'

Frowning at the change in topic, Hermione looked up.

'Really, Granger, do you honestly think I ever wanted to get someone pregnant?'

'No,' she blurted out, her previous anger over this whole baby situation resurfacing. 'It's why I assumed you'd dealt with that, especially since you didn't say anything and knew I was on fertility potions, which contra-indicate any contraceptive use, so I figured if there were a risk, you would've opened your big mouth and I would've used that damn condom I had in my pocket.'

'You had a condom with you?'

The angry undertone in his voice and the way he now regarded her spoke volumes, but she couldn't care less. He wasn't the one having to carry it to term.

Placing her hands on her sides, she snapped, 'Don't look at me like that. You took me completely by surprise and didn't say anything. I thought it was safe to proceed without. From the frustrated journals of Iris Parkinson, she seemed to have tried pretty hard to get pregnant by you.'

'Don't remind me.' He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Sweet Salazar, those dumb broads at Hogwarts actually thought it would be a good idea to tie me down to them by attempting to get pregnant during our final year there.' He let out an exasperated grunt and rolled his eyes. 'Well, I didn't mind them putting out. I'd taken care of that ages ago.'

'So, you did sterilise yourself?'

'Of course.'

'Did you use the Vasectomy or Neutering Curse?'

'Vasectomy,' they said simultaneously.

'Less reported side-effects,' she added, nodding.

'And nowhere near as debilitating or visible as the Neutering Curse, which would've kept me out of commission for a fortnight,' Tom added.

'Yes, that would've been hard to explain to Slughorn.' Hermione sniggered upon imagining that. 'Slughorn!' She slapped her forehead. 'I always carry Essence of Dittany in my pocket!'

She swirled away, muttering angrily to herself for not thinking of it sooner. Her coat was hanging at its usual place, and she quickly ruffled through her magically extended pocket.

'No, ermmm... no. What's this doing in here? No, no, no. Oh, the stuff you wanted.'

Absentmindedly, she pulled out the leather bag from the Pain and Pleasure Palace, hearing Riddle's shout of 'NO!' far too late. It was like a bomb went off. The bag tore to pieces in her hands; items smashed into her and flew around her as she yelped and jumped back, tripping over something that had landed behind her. Her arms flailed around as she fell, unable to keep her footing, when his hand grabbed a hold of her and yanked her out of the way. She crashed into him as he quickly wrapped his arms around her, pressing her firmly against his chest and keeping her upright.

Still panting heavily, Hermione closed her eyes. Behind her she could still hear items falling on the floor. Yet, she felt safe and secure as he held her tightly in his arms. It was weird, she thought. One moment his hold would make her utterly terrified, and the next time, it felt like nothing or no one could ever hurt her again. Despite wanting to analyse the source of this, her mind lost the battle against the sensation of being in his arms, of feeling safe and protected, and her body relaxed against his. Her hair was caught between his chest and her cheek, tickling her face with every breath she took, but what invaded her senses most was his scent—that deliciously masculine fragrance that hung lightly around him and almost functioned like an aphrodisiac to Hermione. She seriously could smell this all day long and never be bored of it. Not even the slight tang of blood put her off.

Blood!

What was she doing? He was still injured, and she was contemplating on how nice he smelled? Seriously, what had got into her?

Sheepishly, she looked up, meeting those penetrating, dark eyes. It was a big relief he couldn't do Legilimency here, but somehow, it didn't exactly grant her the privacy she'd thought she would have. He still seemed quite able to get inside her mind with conventional, Muggle methods.

Hermione sent him a weak smile. 'Thanks.'

'You're welcome.'

'I can stand on my own now.'

He smirked. 'Are you sure about that?'

A scowl erupted on her face, and she abruptly stepped back … on top of some item, twisting her ankle and nearly falling over again if he hadn't grabbed her upper arm to help steady her. She reached for her aching ankle and rubbed it.

'Damn court shoes,' she muttered, pulling it off her foot carefully and wincing when she had to put her weight on the leg she'd just injured to kick off the other one. 'Not one word,' she said to Riddle without looking at him—she didn't need to because she could draw that smug, taunting expression he'd be sporting about now by heart.

His chuckle validated her expectations so she sent him a brief glare before focusing on finding her coat or what was left of it. Her eyes flashed over the rubble in the cell. It was quite impressive. Madame Aphrodite's items were scattered around everywhere. Some were still in their respective boxes, but most boxes hadn't survived that blast intact and were either torn or completely shredded. Dumbfounded, Hermione stared at the pile of cardboard residue and kinky items. It made no sense. Why had that bag exploded?

Suddenly realising Riddle had shouted 'no' and thus indicating he had an idea as to why, she turned towards him and asked, 'How come that bag exploded? My coat never did.'

'Their bags are based on a Simple Extension Charm, which most wizards or witches are already barely able to perform. No ordinary charm can withstand the force of the magic-suppressing wards. So, I take it you used a bit more than a mere charm for your coat.'

'Yes, of course, several Notice-Me-Not Charms with some modifications, a couple of potions that secured strength and durability, and I embedded multiple Arithmancy equations into it as well in order to compartmentalise and enhance the Extension Charm, which I altered a tad to suit for my coat, but that still …' she paused when for a second she thought an impressed expression flashed across his face, but it was gone next and she shook her head, certain she'd imagined it. 'It still doesn't explain why my coat stays whole. You said yourself the more power the wards perceive, the harder they strike.'

'Which is why your solution is so ingenious,' he replied matter-of-factly, causing her to blush. 'They're not perceiving anything. Arithmancy and Potions are a different kind of magic than what the wards are designed to target. The potions insure that your coat is strong enough so the charms don't buckle under the stress of the wards, and the Arithmancy combined with the charms is enough to fool them that your coat is merely that: a normal, Muggle coat. It's quite brilliant actually. You wouldn't be the first to try to smuggle things into Azkaban, but I'm pretty sure you're one of the first to succeed in doing it on such a regular basis without anyone suspecting anything and without triggering any of the many alarms.'

By now her face was burning so hard she'd no idea where to look anymore. His compliments made her feel proud and accomplished, but at the same time, she didn't know how to react to them. She wasn't good at receiving compliments and had never learned to accept them with some grace. So, instead she got down on her hands and knees and focused on searching for her coat, ruffling through the pile of stuff from Madame Aphrodite's store. She began piling everything she'd handled up on her left.

'I'm actually still waiting for you to offer me a ride out of here in that coat,' Tom continued with a smirk.

Her scowl was immediate; with a parcel still in her hand, she turned around to glare at him, making him hold up his hands in defence and take a step back in mock fear. His eyes flickered between her face and the parcel, so she automatically looked down. Through the tears in the cracked, cardboard box, a large wooden bat was visible, erupting a devious smirk on her face. She pulled it out and patted it lightly into the palm of her hand.

'Well, I don't think you'd fit as you are,' she teased, stroking the wood meaningfully.

'Doesn't matter,' he replied lightly, 'I can wait. I'm a very patient man, you know.'

'Patient, my arse.' She snorted, placing the bat on the pile on her left.

'And such a nice arse it is,' he added suggestively when she leaned forward to pick up a black corset.

'You know you could try to help me find my coat in this mess instead of just standing there,' she said, slightly irritated.

'Yes, I could,' he concurred, 'but then I would miss out on the lovely view.'

Hermione rolled her eyes as she tossed several more items to the side. 'It will take me all day to put this back in my coat without magic,' she said, absentmindedly leaning with her butt on her heels and wincing when a sharp pain soared through her ankle. Quickly, she removed her weight of her hurt foot and sighed. 'If I find the damn thing.'

'Well, you'd better,' Riddle said. 'I can hide some items in here that will escape those moronic guards' attention, but even they should be able to spot that huge pile. It is rather conspicuous.'

'Oh! There it is!' she cheered, crawling through the pile and pulling at the tiny piece of pearl fabric that stood out between all that black leather. 'Thank Merlin, it's still intact,' she muttered, inspecting her coat from all sides before sticking her hand in its charmed pocket and looking for the Dittany.

It didn't take her long to find the little bottle of Essence of Dittany, and she scrambled back to her feet carefully.

'Why don't you go outside and heal that ankle first,' Riddle said, staring at her foot seriously.

Hermione shook her head. 'I only twisted it a bit. It's no big deal. It's a minor ache, nothing detrimental. It'll heal. Turn around so I can get to those wounds on your back.'

Riddle looked at the tiny bottle and shook his head. 'You'd best do my leg and arm first,' he ordered, unzipping his trousers. 'I'm not sure that's enough to heal everything.'

'But your arm isn't nearly as bad as—Oh Godric, no!' Horrified, she stared at the bleeding wound on the back of his thigh as he stepped out of his trousers. She rushed over and grabbed a hold of him around his waist. 'Stop putting pressure on your leg, you idiot; you need to lie down now,' she ordered, immediately dragging him to the bed.

'Granger, don't be—'

'Shush,' she hissed. 'You should've put pressure on that wound instead of just letting it bleed on. Are you insane?'

'I only have one pair of hands, and as you may recall, I was focusing on this wound first, Granger,' he said, holding up his arm.

'That is a superficial wound. The other one isn't,' she countered, ignoring the arm in front of her face. 'On your stomach. Now,' she ordered bossily when they got to the bed.

He snorted. 'Gee, Granger, anyone ever tell you that you're one—'

'Yes, many times, now move!'

Sniggering softly, Tom laid down on the bed. When he was lying on his stomach, Hermione sat down next to his leg and opened the bottle of Dittany. Tom turned his head towards her.

'Just the leg first,' he ordered, staring at her warningly.

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. 'Fine, let that back get infected. What do I care?' she muttered, disgruntled.

'It won't get infected in this cell,' Riddle countered. 'You're forgetting about the healing properties. I've not even had a single cough in the last couple of years.'

'Those healing properties are aimed at you not getting sick from the suppression of your magic. There is no telling if it'll work on ordinary physical wounds. And not getting a cough isn't that odd with the minimal direct human contact you're having. Germs mostly get passed on by one's hands. Now stop distracting me before I spill this.'

He placed his head back on the pillow and kept still to her surprise. Carefully, she placed one hand beside the wound and then let three drops of the brown liquid fall into it. New flesh grew rapidly, closing the wound from within until nothing but a red stripe on the newly formed skin remained. Her eyes wide, she reached out with her fingertips and stroked over that skin. It felt perfectly fine and smooth. Those couple of drops had done far more than she'd expected. She had some previous experience with Essence of Dittany, having used it on both Harry and Ron, and on neither had it had such spectacular results as it did now.

'This is impossible,' she muttered.

'What?' he asked, looking around concerned.

'Don't you feel it?' she asked, dumbfounded. 'The wound is healed. I only used three drops, and it was a deep lash. I've never seen Essence of Dittany work like this. It's almost like a miracle cure.'

'Like I said, healing properties,' he replied smugly.

'Maybe,' Hermione said, staring at his healed leg concerned before carefully dripping some Dittany into the wound on his shoulder and back. 'I've got plenty now,' she said when she saw him glare at her for disobeying his orders.

She reached out to take his arm and applied the potion there, too, before sitting down and screwing the lid back on the bottle and placing it on the table. Tom's eyebrows rose when he saw how fast his wound healed. He carefully stretched out his limbs and rolled over on his back.

'Amazing,' he muttered. 'I could get used to this.'

'How can you say that when you don't even know for sure what this is?'

'It's clearly the combination of the healing properties of the cell in addition to the Essence of Dittany,' Tom replied, placing his arms casually underneath his head.

'Clearly,' Hermione snarled sarcastically.

'What else could it be?' he replied, shrugging.

'Oh gee, I don't know. I suppose there is loads of literature on what resurrecting with phoenix ashes does to the physiology of the human body. Why care about the risks of experimenting on yourself and the possible future side-effects?'

'Otherwise I'd be dead now, which would be a significantly worse "side-effect" on my physiology, so I'm finding this a rather mute discussion,' Tom countered, annoyed.

'You know this isn't just about you anymore,' she snapped. 'I've a little girl inside of me that god knows is in what kind of state, thanks to your stupid experiments.'

Abruptly, she rose, wanting to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back on the bed whilst sitting up and facing her seriously.

'It's a bit early to be able to determine the sex of the child,' he said softly.

'I know. The Healer warned us that the spell is only fifty-nine percent accurate at this early stage, but it was pink and I guess I already got used to that.' She tossed her hands in the air in supplication.

'You've decided to keep it,' Tom stated, scratching his neck uncomfortably.

'No, I wanted an abortion, but it's not an option,' Hermione said, glaring at him. 'You can thank your precious Moirae for that: no divorce and no abortions either.'

'Moirae,' Tom hissed, his eyes flashing. 'I trust your tracking method is working?'

'Oh yes, that bitch is mine,' Hermione replied vengefully.

Tom nodded. 'Not yet though. Wait till she no longer expects it to happen. You'll be needing backup, too. Her countermeasures are quite severe. You don't stay out of reach for so many centuries without really good defences.'

'Don't tell me you have no idea how to bypass those.'

Smirking ever so smugly, Tom answered, 'I do, but you're not ready to take her on.' His eyes flickered over her seated form as his hand disappeared into her hair, tilting her head as he added 'yet' right before kissing her thoroughly.

xxx

Hermione paced to her office at the Department of Mysteries. Ron hadn't been in that Azkaban corridor anymore when she'd left Riddle's cell, and she figured he'd gone to his parents or Harry or whoever else might be in the mood to listen to his complaints. He also would probably be busy getting his belongings from their flat. She had no desire to run into him again and have another argument. So, she'd decided to catch up on her administration since she couldn't do much else. Riddle hadn't given her any new information on magical topics and that blasted book from Dolcea on magic hadn't improved in wording, sentence structure or punctuation, despite Hermione's ability to comprehend some of it better now that Riddle had clarified what the first chapter was about. She already had a thousand questions on the second chapter alone, but she'd not got around to ask them today. Her mind had been too distracted with everything else that was going on.

So despite that it had taken quite some time before she and Tom had put everything back into her coat, they had, during that time, talked and talked about their new situation, and she'd become much more at ease about being pregnant—no longer fearing for the baby's health after his thorough explanation on his resurrection. Of course, he had to become a possessive, male pig after having one of his stupid cells do its deed as if it were some big achievement on his end, and he kept pulling her in his arms at every available opportunity, so she'd 'kindly' reminded him of their no touching arrangement, which she'd previously ignored. She groaned at recalling how he'd immediately held up her underwear triumphantly after she'd said that. It seemed some other things besides the bag had dropped out of her coat's pocket, too, and apparently, he'd been baiting her with his behaviour.

'But you're going against my specific orders, too, Granger. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such a naughty girl you are. It seems I shall have to correct that insolent attitude fully the next time you're here.'

He'd not kept his hands to himself for a single second after that, making Hermione even more determined about not bringing any of Mistress Aphrodite's equipment with her to his cell tomorrow.

No sireeee.

She'd already vanquished that blasted cane, which turned out to be potion-infused for maximum impact. She would really have to have a serious talk with Riddle about some of the other things he'd had her buy after she'd seen the damage that little plastic thing had done. After all, she was pregnant now. And even though she didn't mind him dominating her, she wasn't sure how far she was willing to go into the whole sadomasochism thing. She'd enjoyed the spanking despite the pain. It had been an eye-opening experience for her, so freeing. She also didn't mind superficial bruises and rejoiced in seeing her body heal them. It felt empowering and relaxing to surrender to his will. But those whips, canes and bats were just a step too far in her mind. They scared the shit out of her.

A Howler suddenly popped up in front of her face when she placed her hand on the door to her office. Before she had time to take cover, it burst open.

'Hermione, my office, NOW!' Katie McGregor's voice thundered.

It seemed the shit had hit the fan.

When she arrived at her boss's office, she found that Katie wasn't alone. To her surprise, Harry was there, too, sending her a reassuring smile.

Dammit, Ron, couldn't you keep your mouth shut for one afternoon and give me the chance to tell Harry myself?

Harry being there made her a hell of a lot more uncomfortable, but she kept a straight face nevertheless and smiled back at him.

'Hi, Harry. Katie, I got your … "message".'

'Have a seat, Hermione,' Katie said calmly. 'Harry, I really think you should let me handle this part.'

'I don't think so,' Harry said, taking the seat next to Hermione. 'We're going about this as we agreed upon previously.'

'Going about what?' Hermione asked, her head swivelling between the two questioningly.

'This,' Katie said, handing her a scroll after which she sat down in her chair and interlaced her fingers contemplatively whilst staring at Hermione.

Slowly, Hermione unrolled it and turned pale upon seeing it was her marriage scroll to Riddle. So, it hadn't been Ron who'd tattled. He had no idea about this. Then again, Harry was here. She doubted Katie had contacted him, so he'd probably heard some things from Ron, but why had he come here? And how had the scroll come into McGregor's hands? It was supposed to go to her office. Even if that hadn't worked, it should've ended up on the pile of the Department of Magical Family Affairs and Genealogy, not here.

'How did you get this?' Hermione asked slowly, looking up to Katie and trying to avoid meeting Harry's eyes. 'This is private.'

'All private, family information regarding Unspeakables comes past my office first in order to prevent possible blackmail situations to my operatives,' Katie said coolly.

Ah, that explained why her spell had not worked; the scroll hadn't gone to the department where it would've activated her transportation spell yet.

'That's quite an invasion of my privacy. Why aren't we made aware of this policy when we signed on?'

'With what you're holding in your hand, I'd say it's quite obvious as to why not. Care to explain how come you're married to Riddle?'

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Harry intervened.

'Don't answer that, Hermione.' He turned back to Katie. 'We discussed this. You were supposed to keep it short and not go into questioning her yet until the formal hearing. She's not talking to you without proper legal representation.'

'Potter, we might be able to make this go away quietly,' Katie said, sighing.

Harry snorted. 'I'm willing to take that under consideration after Hermione has spoken with an Orator concerning her liabilities, not before that. In the meantime, I'm sure your office can control the external damage in the manner we discussed in order to keep this under wraps.'

Katie shook her head. 'Are you absolutely positive you can't talk your friend into keeping his mouth shut?'

'Ron won't listen to me in the state he's in now. You need to handle it.'

'All right,' Katie said, resigning. 'Hermione, I'm sorry to say this, but I have to suspend you from active duty without pay, effective immediately, until a formal hearing has been held concerning the full nature of your involvement with Tom Marvolo Riddle whilst under the employment of the Department of Mysteries. You are hereby advised not to leave the country.'

'When will this hearing occur?' Hermione asked calmly. She'd been expecting this turn of events, just not so smoothly as it was occurring right now. Something she obviously had Harry to thank for.

'I'll try to schedule it as fast as possible,' Katie replied, sighing as she scratched her neck. 'You'll receive a notice of the time and place. I'll remind you that you're still bound by your Unspeakable Vows and therefore are not allowed to convey information to outsiders other than your Orator.'

'I'm aware of my vows,' Hermione replied.

'Good, then I'm afraid I'll have to escort you out the building.'

'I'll do that,' Harry said quickly.

For a moment, Katie stared at him. 'Fine, but don't wander around for her sake,' she added warningly as they got up to leave.

'We won't,' Hermione replied. The second they were out of the office and the door had closed, Hermione turned to Harry. 'Harry, what's—?'

'Not here,' he said shortly, 'wait till we're at your flat.'

'Ron might be there,' Hermione said, biting her lip.

'No, he got up his things and left more than an hour ago,' Harry said softly, grabbing her hand. 'Don't worry, you're not in this alone. We'll work this out.'

Hermione waited until they were in the lift; then she turned to Harry and said firmly, 'I don't want you involved in this. I can't make this work if you get involved, Harry. It's bad enough Ron decided to show up in his cell. I need you to stay out of this.'

'Hermione,' Harry replied, frowning, 'how much of that Moirae marriage was your idea?'

'Harry, please, stay out of this.'

He shook his head, staring at her in disbelief. 'Merlin, Hermione, you have no idea who you're trying to screw over.'

'I do.'

'No, I don't think you really do,' Harry replied seriously, grabbing a hold of her. 'You don't manipulate Riddle; he'll be so many steps ahead of you that by the time you realise, there will be nothing left for us but pick up the pieces.'

'If you get involved, that's exactly what will happen,' Hermione said with a tone of finality to it as the lift stopped at their destination: the Atrium.

'We're not done discussing this,' Harry said as they walked to the fireplace exits, his jaw set.

'Oh yes, we are,' Hermione replied, equally stubborn.

xxx
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The Prisoner