Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Shared Flame	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 58981 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make any money writing this.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
First, I just want to thank Serpent in Red and Nerys for taking their time betaing this chapter, second, I want to thank everyone who took their time to read, rate and review. I haven’t got this many reviews since the first chapter and I greatly enjoyed reading your comments!

Review responses can be found here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/20494-shared-flame-by-lady-miya/

And now, the conclusion to the cliff-hanger! Enjoy!

Chapter 11
“Going somewhere?”
Hermione spun towards the voice and saw Marcus standing there. No, not Marcus. Voldemort. Even though a part of her still wanted to deny it, she couldn’t possibly fool herself anymore. Keeping the fear away, she aimed her wand at him.
“Stay away from me, Voldemort.”
He didn’t react like she had thought he would. Instead of starting to laugh evilly, his eyes widened, and he looked over his shoulder. When he found that no one was there, he looked back at her with a frown. She still had her wand aimed at him.
“Are you feeling alright, Hermione? You looked ready to get sick in class. I just came by to see if you are okay,” he said slowly, eyeing her with worry in his eyes.
Hermione, however, was not about to get fooled again. “Don’t play tricks with me, Voldemort. Get the hell out of here before I hex you.”
He raised his hands, showing he was unarmed. “Calm down, Hermione. Are you listening to yourself? Why are you calling me You-Know-Who? Did I hit your head during the duel? Perhaps we better go to St. Mungo’s.”
When he took a step towards her, she fired a hex as warning. He jumped back.
“Oh, no, you don’t. I saw you duel. You move exactly like Voldemort. And you speak Parseltongue. And you know that Malfoy was turned into a ferret, even though I’m sure no one outside Hogwarts knows that. And then there are a lot of other things as well, all pointing to the fact that you are Voldemort.” The more she talked, the more certain she became. Even though he didn’t look like Harry had described Tom Riddle to look, there was something in the way he carried himself that reminded her an awful lot about Voldemort.
The man in front of her just sighed. “I told you the reason I don’t tell people about my … ability is because I don’t want them to think I have anything to do with You-Know-Who. And I actually heard the story about Malfoy from some other students. I thought it was funny. As for my dueling ...” He shrugged. “I’m very good at dueling. So is he, from what I’m told. Now, stop with this nonsense. You are scaring Althea.”
Althea was whimpering softly at the kitchen table while watching her parents with wide, scared eyes. Hermione felt a sting of uncertainty. Could she be making a horrible mistake?
She looked at him again, and for just a fraction of a second, there was something very similar to triumph in his eyes. He took a few steps towards Althea.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” she growled and fired a Slicing Hex at him. He had thought she had fallen for his lies again. But she wouldn’t. Never again.
He managed to jump away from her hex, but it still grazed his shoulder, and he winced when he began to bleed. Then he looked up at her again, and Hermione took a step back in fear as the mask fell from his face. In the blink of an eye, Marcus’s friendly expression hardened, and his eyes seemed to get darker. This was Voldemort.
He sent a Stunner in her direction which she diverted. Althea cried out in fear, and Hermione sent a Blasting Spell at him as she ran towards her daughter to get her to safety. She didn’t notice she had missed until the spell hit the ceiling, covering them all with stone dust.
“Expelliarmus!” he cried.
Hermione was so surprised he used that spell that she didn’t remember to put up a shield. Instead, she was thrown back into the wall while her wand was snatched from her hand. The hit knocked the breath out of her lungs, and when she finally got to her feet again, he was holding the crying Althea against his uninjured arm, speaking softly to her in Parseltongue. He had carried her over to the couch instead, and Hermione started to stalk toward him.
“You stay away from my daughter,” she growled, determined to use any means necessary to save her daughter.
He pointed his wand at her. “Our daughter. Who wouldn’t be this sad if you hadn’t attacked me, unprovoked. Now stay there. I’ll put her down for a nap so we can talk in peace.”
Hermione was for a moment so taken aback by his ridiculous comment that she didn’t know what to say. Then she saw how Althea seemed to calm down by his comfort. He stroked her back and whispered softly to her. However, there was some sort of magic involved. She could feel it.
“What are you doing?” she demanded to know and walked up to him, wanting to grab her daughter away from him.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he made a wand movement over Althea on the couch, and Hermione could see the air around her daughter shimmer in blue. When she tried to reach Althea through the blue shimmer, she found it impenetrable and she spun around to Voldemort again, her hands in fists of anger.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” she hissed.
“I only made her sleep. You scared her.”
The fact that he seemed to hold her responsible for it was laughable and did nothing to calm her down.
“But just to make sure you won’t do anything stupid, I’ve put a ward around her. You won’t be able to touch her until I remove it, and she won’t wake up until it’s gone,” he added with a superior smirk.
“You slimy bastard!” she roared and threw herself at him.
She managed to tackle him to the ground and get in a few punches before he overpowered her with his larger body. They wrestled on the floor for minutes, Hermione resorting to biting and scratching him with her nails. However, it didn’t take long until he was sitting on top of her, holding her wrists down over her head. She continued to wriggle until she caught his heated smile. She stopped, going pale with fear.
“What, no more pretending?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
His face smiled, but his eyes were hard. “My patience with you is over. And as a matter of fact, I’m relieved that you know. Being nice,” he spat out the word, “is exhausting. It’s much simpler to just hex the people who don’t cooperate. Now that you know who I really am, I can … be myself with you. And trust me, I’ll enjoy that.”
Hermione swallowed. He leaned closer to her.
“Therefore, you should listen closely, Hermione,” he said softly. “You will tell me exactly how you came to the conclusion about my true identity. Once you have done that, we’ll have a long discussion on how we’ll work this out because I won’t let you or Althea leave this flat until I’m absolutely certain you won’t tell anyone who I am. Understood?”
Hermione’s heart beat rapidly. A part of her was still completely in shock over who he was and thought this was all some sort of bizarre dream. However, she could see that he was serious in his threat and knew she had to deal with it. He had also confirmed his identity, and she had absolutely no doubt he could kill her or worse if she didn’t agree. She glanced towards the couch, but all she could see was the blue shimmer around her daughter.
“You won’t hurt her?” she asked, hating that her voice was so weak.
“She isn’t the liability. However, if you won’t see reason ...”
Hermione took a shuddering breath, forcing herself not to just hit him at once for daring to threaten her daughter. He was Voldemort, after all, and had done much worse things than killing young girls. She had to keep her head cool if she were to come out of this intact. More importantly, she had to make sure Althea wasn’t harmed.
He wanted to reason with her. That was something at least. Perhaps she could make a bargain with him that would make sure she and Althea were safe? After all, there had to be something he wanted from her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have spend so much time with her in the past and he would definitely not consider keeping her alive now. That thought made her relax the slightest. She nodded, accepting his terms. For now.
He loosened his grip of her wrists a little. “Good. Now, I think it will be for the best if we continue this discussion in the bathtub.”
“Bathtub?” she asked, surprised.
He shook his hair. Dust from the ceiling she had destroyed fell onto her face. Her eyes widened. Surely he couldn’t mean …?
Oh, he did.
“Why can’t we just sit in the armchairs?” she asked, trying to keep the panic from her voice.
He chuckled. “No, I think this will go much easier if I dictate what will happen right from the beginning.”
With that said, he sat up and pulled her up into his arms. She tried to struggle against him, but he just used magic to make her body lose all ability to move. She felt both angry and scared when he carried her into the bathroom and filled the bathtub with water before vanishing their clothes. Hermione’s eyes widened in shock when she realised that she was still feeling the wonderful pleasure when their bodies touched. It confused her greatly. How could she feel like that with the Dark Lord?
No, he must have put some sort of spell on her.
Once they were both in the tub, her leaning against his chest, he removed the spell that kept her immobilised. She immediately tried to move away from him, but he held her down. After some ineffective struggling, she gave in, deciding to wait for an opening.
“That’s better,” he stated with a happy sigh when she stopped. “Now, tell me how you found out, or I’ll have to do something else, say, see how long you can hold your breath under water while under the Cruciatus?”
Hermione was sure he would have no problem making his threat a reality, and she saw no point in lying to him right now. If she were to be tortured, it should be for something that was worth protecting. At least now, he might tell her something of value that would help her if she managed to get him talking. Harry had always said he was a talker.
“The thought that you could be someone else never crossed my mind until today. When I saw you duel … I knew. Before that, there have been a lot of small things that just, I don’t know, made it all fit together. I should have picked up at the Parsel. I guess it was too far-fetched for me to even consider that you were…” She sighed, not able to shake the discomfort she was feeling. “You were not at all like I expected Voldemort to be. Just the fact that you seem to like me, a Muggle-born, made the idea appear ridiculous at first.”
He chuckled. “Yes, you are a special case. I wouldn’t have done it with any other Mudblood.”
She hardly heard the offensive remark. The fact that he had called her special was something that both filled her with dread and a little portion of curiosity.
“Why me? Why am I special?”
“Guess.” He let his hand wander over the outside of her thigh.
She shuddered at the jolts of electricity it sent up to her sex. Damn it.
“Isn’t that just a spell?”
“Oh, not at all. I was very surprised when I felt it the first time. But I’ve decided that I like it and therefore you.”
“That can’t be all,” she remarked, turning her head so she would be able to see him over her shoulder.
He smirked. “You are too clever for your own good.”
Yeah, she started to get that feeling as well. However, knowledge was power, and as long as she was stuck with him in this tub, she thought she should try to learn as much as possible. Swallowing her fear, she asked: “What is it that makes this happen between us, then?”
“I needed you to get my soul back,” he replied. “And thanks to you, I did.”
“How?” she asked, confused and curious.
He stroked her hair away from her shoulder and shifted a little so they could watch directly at each other.
“We are Soul Mates.”
That was so ridiculous she started laughing, but when he simply arched an eyebrow at her, she stopped. “Wait, what? You are joking, surely?”
He scratched his neck. “I’m afraid not. I have it on good authority that we are. And since fucking you restored my soul after you and your friends had destroyed all my carefully made Horcruxes, I’m inclined to believe it.”
She watched him closely. He seemed honest, and now that she thought about it, she understood why she hadn’t realised, or even considered, what his true identity was. It was because she could see his soul. Or well, she hadn’t seen any indication that his soul was missing. When she looked him in the eyes … she knew: He had a whole soul again.
“What does that mean?”
His wet hand came up to her neck, and he touched it gently. “Other than that the sex is amazing? I don’t know.”
She shivered as his hand continued to travel down her back, painting small circles. Why was her body still responding to his touch? She was still scared, even though she didn’t let it consume her.
“And you haven’t tried to find out?”
“For four years. All I could find were silly notions about true love. Nothing that explained what we are feeling.” His hand came down to her waist, and he pulled her close against his chest. She felt his cock at her buttock. It was starting to get hard. Her heart began to beat more rapidly again. This could not be happening. She couldn’t be sitting in a bathtub, feeling Lord Voldemort’s hard-on.
“How did you find out about this ‘Soul Mate’ thing?” she asked, trying to move away and failing because he held her down.
“I met with very ancient creatures, which are also the ones I have to thank for this new body.”
His hands travelled from her waist up to her breasts.
Hermione gasped when he pinched her nipples. “Stop that!”
She moved her hands up to his and tried to pull them away.
“If this it the last time I’ll be able to touch you, I want to do it thoroughly,” he answered nonchalantly.
“You are sick,” she whispered and bit back a moan when his movements caused electric jolts to travel straight down to her clit.
“Maybe,” he whispered and kissed her exposed neck. “Or you could consider it to be one of the many benefits, besides staying alive, that you will get if you swear not to tell anyone about me.”
She groaned as one of his hands moved down over her stomach and began stroking her labia. The same time he pushed a finger against her clit, he sucked hard on her neck and twisted her nipple with his other hand. Hermione bucked with her hips at the intense pleasure. This was sick! She had just found out that he was the evil Dark Lord! She couldn’t be about to achieve an orgasm by his hands!
However, her body wouldn’t obey her brain; it was, in fact, adjusting itself to him. She didn’t protest when he turned her in his lap so she was sitting with her right arm pressed against his chest. When he took her left hand and brought it down to his hard cock, she immediately followed his movements and started giving him a hand job. He moaned into her ear and nibbled her earlobe, his fingers starting to stroke her clit furiously.
Merlin, she loved it. She loved feeling like this. Despite his threats about killing her, she felt wonderful by their closeness. How could that be? It had to be some sort of spell; no way was she a Soul Mate (whatever that meant) with Voldemort!
And yet, she continued to stroke his cock and bucked against his hand as he entered her with two fingers and rubbed her clit. Her head fell back against his shoulder; her eyes closed in bliss as her hand worked just as quickly over his cock as his hand worked her sex. His other hand came up to her face and grabbed her chin, tilting her head in a rather uncomfortable angle. She hardly noticed because, in the next moment, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
She was so close when he broke their lip-contact.
“I want to hear you scream my name when you come,” he growled.
“Ma…”
“No.” His hand stilled over her clit.
Hermione tried to make him move again. She was so close! Merlin, she wanted to come so bad!
“Voldemort,” she whispered and was rewarded by him moving again. Somehow, it seemed even more intense than before. Her whole body began to shudder.
“Now, Hermione,” he ordered.
Her sex seemed to explode, and it sent a shock wave of pleasure through her whole body.
“Voldemort!” she cried out into his neck.
That made him come as well, but she didn’t notice. She was too high on her own pleasure. They lay there for a short time, breathing heavily.
At least until what, or rather who, she had done overcame her. With all the power she could muster, she threw her elbow into his ribs. The sickening sound of a bone breaking was heard, and Hermione jumped up from the bathtub and rushed towards the door. Her hand was on the handle when the door locked. She tried to open the door, but it was useless. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Voldemort rising from the bathtub, looking furious.
“Crucio,” he growled.
Hermione screamed as pain unlike anything she had ever felt ran through her body. However, as she fell down, another sharp and instant pain appeared on the side of her head, and she blacked out.

xxx

Voldemort lifted the curse when he spotted the blood. Hermione lay unconscious on the floor, blood running from a wound in her head. He had seen her hit the sink when she fell, but he’d not noticed the blood.
Damn! Holding a bleeding person under the Cruciatus Curse was not good at all. They tended to bleed out a lot quicker than usual, and he was not even close to finished with Hermione yet.
Before getting out of the tub, he healed the rib she had cracked, but he didn’t wait for the pain to lessen before moving over to Hermione and stopped the bleeding with a quick healing spell. If she died, he would be really disappointed. However, she shouldn’t have had the time to. He had noticed the blood fast, and it hadn’t even taken a minute for him to heal her.
Sighing in relief, he saw that it was just a shallow wound. She would be fine. He took a deep breath and waited a couple of minutes until the pain in his ribcage had completely disappeared before he lifted her up and carried her to the bed in the bedroom.
When she was lying down, he tied her hands together and then did the same with her feet. He made sure not to tie them too hard, just enough so that she wouldn’t be able to move easily. Then he ran a small diagnostic over her to make sure he hadn’t done any real damage.
He hadn’t, but she would most likely have a horrible headache when she woke up. Oh, well, she deserved it. After a short hesitation, he pulled the covers over her. No reason for her to freeze. When she did accept him, despite who he was, he would want to fuck her, and for that, he wanted her to be warm.
Looking at the time, he discovered that it was already late afternoon. He should take care of Althea. Even though nothing bad could happen to her when she was in her protective sleep, she would still need to eat now and again. Since Hermione was unconscious, she wouldn’t be able to interfere. He could, of course, wake Hermione up at once, but he felt he needed the time to think and get Althea over to his side. If Althea showed Hermione how much she adored him, Hermione would follow in no time.
He needed Hermione to want to be with him. As long as he had her as his power source for more magic, nothing would be able to stop him. What few wizards knew was that the more powerful you were, the harder you were to kill, both by curses and of old age. Even if you were mortally wounded, your magic could keep you alive until your source was depleted. The more magic, the more time you got to heal yourself. Since Voldemort no longer had his Horcruxes and couldn’t make new ones, he had to find alternate ways to make himself immortal. Taking the power from fucking Hermione was the one that seemed to be the most pleasurable method. He needed the power if anyone were to detect him and try to kill him. He still hadn’t found a satisfying way to regain the immortality he had with his Horcruxes. Only spells that would prevent him from dying of natural causes. Even though he was sure he would find a way to become immortal with time, the power from Hermione would do for now.
Nonetheless, the amount of power he got from Hermione depended on how powerful she was. He could start to simply rape her, but in the long run, that would be counterproductive. In the end, she would lose the will to live. He had seen it happen before. When people lost their will to live, their magic would start to wither away. He didn’t want that. Instead, he had to make her cooperate with him.
Threatening Hermione with physical torture would do little good, of that he was sure. He had seen Bella’s memories of her torturing session with Hermione and how the girl had managed to lie while under Bella’s Cruciatus Curse. It had amazed him that such a young Mudblood could hold her head so cool under those circumstances. Bella had, after all, been the best torturer he had ever met. Voldemort himself was better, of course. Still, if Hermione had been able to withstand it when she had been younger, she was sure to do it now.
No, he needed to resort to other sorts of threats as well as bribery. He would use the time he had now to carefully think it over. However, he had the feeling that Althea would be a good way to go. Hermione would do anything for her daughter.
Althea was quite surprised that she had been sleeping, but she quickly forgot about it when Voldemort made them vegetarian paella. He was in the mood for it and was glad that Althea enjoyed it just as much as he did. He would not have had the patience to deal with a cranky child who didn’t want to eat right now.
Ever since his days in the orphanage, there were two things Voldemort couldn’t stand: cranky children and the British kitchen. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to stay away from or kill cranky children (or, in Althea’s case, make sure she didn’t get cranky). It was harder to stay away from the British food since he preferred to live in Britain. Therefore, he had had to learn how to cook on his own instead.
Every time he had visited a new country, he had made sure to learn something from their kitchen. Just as the cooking altered between different people, so did their potions. It was peculiar that few European wizards used Chinese anti-pain potions when they were more effective and had fewer side effects than the British versions. However, as with the cooking, he assumed people just tended to trust their own nation’s things more than any other’s.
At least he was fair in that aspect. He distrusted all nations. That weren’t ruled by him, of course.
“Where’s Mum?” Althea asked in Parseltongue when she was finished eating.
“Sleeping.”
“But it’s not bedtime yet.”
“It’s not. But your mother wasn’t feeling very well so I thought she could use some sleep.”
Althea sat quietly as he disposed of the dishes with his wand.
“Why was Mum so angry with you?”
He rose from the kitchen chair. “She didn’t realise how good I’ll be for her. But she will.”
“Okay.”
Voldemort watched his young daughter. She was staring off into space with a frown between her thin, dark eyebrows. She was such a beautiful child. When she grew up, she would no doubt be as beautiful as Hermione. The boys would stand in line to … get killed. Voldemort’s expression hardened. Salazar, he did not look forward to Althea growing up. If she became half as stubborn as either him or Hermione, she would be a handful.
However, that was still years into the future. He would have managed to come up with a plan by then. Right now, he needed to focus on what he should do with Althea’s stubborn mother. He really hoped Hermione would come to her senses and see that they should be together. However, in any case, he couldn’t risk her telling anyone who he really was. There was a way to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally (or deliberately) spill his secret. The spell worked so that if the one affected knew she was about to say something that could reveal the secret, then she wouldn’t be able to. However, it required the agreement of the one affected.
If she refused to keep his identity a secret and continued to fight him, he would have to punish her in some way. However, he didn’t want to kill her. Perhaps he could stage her death and keep her locked up for the rest of her life?
No, that would make her boring. Prisoners always lost their spirit after a while. He enjoyed Hermione as she was. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to raise their daughter alone. And it was out of the question to let someone else take care of her.
“Dad, what is Voldemort?” Althea was now staring at him again.
He blinked at her question. “Why do you ask?”
“My friend told me to ask Mum what Voldemort had to do with you, but she only said Voldemort was a bad man.”
“What friend?” he asked, slightly worried.
He had found it strange that Hermione had just figured out who he was, out of the blue. But if someone had planted the idea in her mind …
“Shadow-friend,” Althea replied.
Voldemort had a bad feeling about this. “Does this shadow-friend have a name?”
Althea shook her head, but that didn’t make him feel better. The only creatures that knew who he was and had the power to tell Althea as a shadow were the fairies.
“So? What is Voldemort?”
“Voldemort is an extraordinary wizard,” he answered truthfully. He didn’t want to give his daughter the wrong impression about him. “But you should not mention that name in front of others.”
“Why not?”
“Because people fear the name.”
“Why?”
“Voldemort is fearsome.”
Althea looked very thoughtful, but then she nodded in understanding, and a sly glint appeared in her eyes. “What’s for dessert?”
Voldemort knew she only got desserts on Saturdays or if Hermione had guests over. And that was something he agreed was good for Althea.
“You know there will be no desserts on weekdays, Althea. It’s not good for your body.”
Although, he silently praised his daughter for trying. She was on her way to becoming a good, little Slytherin. Because, surely, she would get into Slytherin, being of his blood and all.
A groan was heard from inside the bedroom.
“Oh, sounds like your mother has awakened. Want to go and see how she feels?” he asked Althea.
When she nodded, he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom, just so Hermione would get the right impression.
As he had expected, Hermione seemed quite worried when he placed their daughter on the bed next to her before he sat down himself. Since the covers reached to her neck, there was no way for Althea to see that she was naked and bound.
“Mum sick?” Althea asked with a frown.
Voldemort put a hand on Althea’s back. “Yes, but she will soon understand what she needs to do to get better.”
Hermione managed to give Althea a weak smile. “Althea, honey, why don’t you take one of your toys and go out to the living room? I need to speak with … your father.”
“Okay, Mum.” Althea pattered her mother’s head in what probably was meant as a comforting gesture and left.
Once the girl was out of the room, Voldemort placed an One-Way Silencing Spell over it but kept the door open. Althea wouldn’t be able to see into the room from where she was sitting, but he knew Hermione would not try anything drastic if there was a chance that her daughter moved and did see it.
“How dare you?” Hermione asked harshly and tried to struggle free.
He arched an eyebrow. “How dare I what? I don’t think it’s that uncommon for a father to spend some time with his child.”
Tears of desperation started to rise in her eyes. “She is just a child. You can’t use her like that.”
He chuckled. “But I can. She doesn’t mind. She adores me.”
“That’s because she doesn’t know who you are and what you have done!” she spat.
She looked so alluring when she was angry.
“I don’t think she will mind. Children her age are awfully selfish. As long as I’m good to her, and I will be, she won’t mind what I’ve done to others.” He stroked Hermione’s cheek. “Neither should you.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. “What is it you expect me to do?”
He shrugged. “Nothing more than you have already done. And enjoyed, I might add. Then, I’ll put a spell over you that will make sure you don’t give anyone any indication of who I am. Not even accidentally.” He held up his wand, tracing it over her throat.
“How?” she asked, distrustful.
“Well, it will only work if you accept it. If you don’t accept it, I’ll have to kill you. Or maybe just lock you away forever. I haven’t really decided yet. Anyway, if you accept this spell, it will make sure that every time you are about to let something slip, you’ll begin to cough.” He chuckled when he saw her eyebrows lift even further in disbelief. “Well, it would be suspicious if you fell down in pain. No one will think it’s strange if you only cough. If you have the slightest intention to let anything slip, you’ll begin to cough even if you haven’t started to say anything. If you are about to let something slip accidentally, you’ll begin to cough mid-sentence.”
“What spell is that?”
“One I’ve created myself, so don’t bother trying to look up for a way to break it. And you need to be a Legilimency expert to be able to perform it, so don’t try to get any help either. I’ll know if you start meddling with it, and I’ll be most … displeased if you do.”
She bit her lower lip, staring at the wand “Is it Dark Magic?”
“No. More like a hex.”
“Will it stop me from saying your name?”
He chuckled. “No, not unless it’s in a sentence like ‘I know where Voldemort is’. I know that you and your friends have the habit of saying my name. It would be strange if you started saying something else all of a sudden. You will be able to talk about me, just not in a way that indicated that we are familiar to each other. Well, besides to me, that is.”
She was giving in. He could see it. It made him very relieved. Right then, she closed her eyes and her body went lax out of resignation. A few tears escaped under her eyelid. “What will happen if I refuse?”
“I think you can figure it out for yourself, Hermione,” he replied softly. “Do consider that I have both you and Althea completely at my mercy.”
Her eyes snapped open again. They were bright with tears and screamed out her fear. “You said she wasn’t the liability!”
He shrugged. “She isn’t. And I don’t want to hurt her. But this is about priorities. I want you to cooperate more than I don’t want to see Althea hurt. If you force my hand, I’ll have no choice but to make Althea suffer.” He paused, making sure the message was received. “This is entirely up to you, Hermione. If you do cooperate, I’ll be the best father Althea can ever hope to have. And I know you want her to have a father.”
She was considering it. He could see it in her eyes. It wouldn’t be long before she gave in.
“I don’t want to sleep with you anymore,” she said in a low voice, looking down. A few more tears escaped from the corners of her eyes.
He moved closer to her and stroked the tears away, the skin-to-skin contact making them both feel pleasure. “I think you do.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him with angst in her eyes. “You are Voldemort. I can’t. It would be like betraying all my friends and …”
He smiled and let his slightly wet finger move over her face and down her neck. “You will.”
She shuddered. “No. I don’t want you in my life at all. I promise not to say a word about you if you leave me and Althea alone.”
He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, Hermione. You can do nothing to prevent me from visiting you and Althea. And not only because of me, but because of Althea. How do you think you can explain to her that she can’t see her precious father? No, I dictate the terms here. Either you promise you won’t say a word, and then, I’ll untie you and let you have some of the tasty paella I made for dinner. Or you don’t accept, and I’ll torture you a little more, ask this same question again and if you don’t accept, then either I’ll simply have to bring Althea in here and … you don’t want that.”
She was scared and desperate. For some reason he didn’t enjoy it as much as he usually did. He was only hoping that she would take the first alternative.
“You won’t use me to help you with whatever it is you are planning to do with the world?”
She was grasping for straws now. Something that would make her able to live with herself after the decision. He decided that he could afford giving her a straw.
“No, I won’t even tell you if I’m planning something. With your Gryffindor moral, you would only try to stop me.”
His reassurance that she was, in fact, not about to become a Death Eater for accepting his terms seemed to make her relax. As he had known it would. She wanted to cling to her view of herself as a “good” person. He didn’t mind that. If he had to use her for his work, he wouldn’t let her know that he was using her. Then, she could sit on her high horse as much as she wanted.
She let out a sigh of defeat. “Fine. I accept.”

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