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
- 12
- 13
- 14
Hello! Sorry for the long delay. This chapter is the longest I’ve written, so it took some time to edit and for my betas to go through it. Especially since they had real life stuff going on (I know, how dare they?!). So make sure to express your gratitude to Nerys and Serpent In Red for their great job!

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I’ve responded to all of you (expect the one I got last night, but thank you, UjalaAhmad93 for your kind words) and I hope you can find your way there!

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

WARNING! Smut coming up!

Chapter 12
The moment Hermione had the opportunity to, she fled from Voldemort’s presence. However, she couldn’t flee far, only to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, knowing it was silly since it wouldn’t hinder him for more than the second it took to cast Alohomora. But she needed to feel like she was somewhat in control. Like she was doing something.
She sank down on the bathroom floor and broke into tears.
The last twenty minutes had been torture. Voldemort had untied her and led her to the kitchen table where he had made sure she ate. She hadn’t even recognised what it was; it had been hard enough to keep it down. All the time, she had watched Althea and tried to stay strong for her.
Not that Althea seemed to need it. She had happily spoken to Voldemort in Parseltongue during the dinner, like nothing had changed. Of course, for Althea it hadn’t. Voldemort was still Marcus, her friendly father who was a better cook than Hermione could ever be. Surely, it must be some sort of cosmic joke that Lord Voldemort seemed more able to take care of a child than Hermione Granger. Not only did he give her better food and was able to talk to her, they had also bonded much quicker than Hermione and Althea had done. When had life got so unfair?
Hermione sighed and leaned her head back against the door. Merlin, she was pathetic, hiding inside the bathroom as Voldemort was outside, playing with her daughter. How could he do that, by the way? Just act like he was nothing more than a normal man? If she hadn’t started to think about it, she wouldn’t have figured it out. Then, he would still be Marcus, the handsome professor whom she had spectacular sex with and … threw out the window.
She almost began to laugh. Oh, Merlin, she had thrown Lord Voldemort out the window, and all he had done in return was turn her into a mouse.
She paused, and a faint smile lingered on her face. He had only turned her into a mouse. That was rather lame, coming from the Dark Lord. But it made sense. If he had tried something worse, people would have asked questions. He didn’t command a whole squadron of Death Eaters any longer. Instead, he was hiding here, pretending to be a normal person. Oh, she didn’t doubt that he had some clever plan to regain power, but for the moment, he had to be very careful so that no one would discover him. If she or Althea suddenly went missing …
Hermione stood up, feeling power return to her. She wasn’t completely helpless. Voldemort couldn’t just do whatever he wanted anymore. He wouldn’t be able to stop her from seeing other people. If he did, they would start to ask questions. Despite the spell he had put on her that kept her from telling people about him, she was sure she could give them some hint of who he was or trick him into revealing himself to someone. Harry would definitely recognise him if he saw him duel, for example. If she only—
She stopped as she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale with eyes rimmed red from crying, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. A big, purple bite mark was visible on her neck. He had given it to her right before she climaxed. She had managed to climax, despite knowing who he was. She had wanted it.
Hermione shuddered and wrapped her arms around her. What was this strange bond between them that made her blood sing every time he touched her? He said it wasn’t a spell, and now, when she thought about it, she believed him. It wouldn’t make sense if it were. Lord Voldemort would never lower himself to have sex with a Mudblood, unless there was something special going on. But why did he seem to want it now that he had a whole soul again?
Magic.
The answer struck her like a lightning bolt, and she stared wide-eyed at her reflection in the mirror. Having sex with her made Voldemort much more powerful. Of course he wouldn’t allow her to leave when she gave him so much power. She had felt it when she had been inside his mind. He, for a lack of better terms, loved it.
Then, there was the other thing she had felt when she was inside his mind. His feelings for her. It wasn’t just the magic that made him want her. It was something more. Back then, she had been afraid that she wouldn’t be able to return his strong feelings. Now, she wondered if she had been mistaken. Lord Voldemort didn’t care for anyone.
Yet, at that time, she had been so sure of what she had felt. Lord Voldemort wanted her.
She jumped when she heard the door to the bathroom open but didn’t look up until she felt him standing right behind her. Hermione took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. She met his eyes in the mirror.
“Oh, don’t look like that. I won’t bite,” he remarked with a smirk and put his hands on her shoulders. One finger traced the bite mark. “Again.”
She exhaled slowly. “No, but you can torture me.”
He chuckled. “I don’t plan to torture you anymore tonight, so there is no need to look so anxious.”
“I’m not worried you will do that,” she mumbled and looked down. “I’m just not comfortable with you being here at all.”
“And if I leave, you’ll only worry about when I’ll come back,” he stated and made her turn around so she was facing him.
She hated to admit that he was probably right. Perhaps it was better if he just stayed here. At least then, she knew where he was. Or wait a minute …
“Are you just saying that so you can stay here and make sure I won’t do anything drastic?” she asked suspiciously.
“Maybe,” he said, looking pleased. “Either way, I’m staying, so you better get used to it.”
She stroked her hands against her jeans nervously, wondering what would happen next. He was watching her closely. When he raised his hand to touch her, she flinched. He let his arm sink.
“Having sex will be hard if you keep doing that,” he remarked dryly.
Her eyes widened, panic rising in her throat. She did not want to make him even more powerful now that she knew who he really was.
“No!”
He smirked and suddenly pulled her close to him; one of his hand pressed against her arse and the other on her neck. Her heart started to beat at a furious pace as he leaned closer to her.
“What do you think you can do to stop me?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
Hermione closed her eyes. Merlin, what should she do?
“Answer me,” he growled and pulled her hair backwards so she was forced to look up at him.
Nothing. She could do nothing. She knew that was the answer he wanted, but she refused to say it. Instead, she pressed her lips together. To admit that would be admitting defeat. She had already accepted not to say anything about who he was, but she would not let him walk right over her. She would not let him use her any way he wanted.
He smiled. “I see we will have to take away that small part of resistance you still carry.” His voice was soft, but his eyes were hard. He leaned closer to her, so their noses were almost touching. “I’ll just need some time to prepare. Until I have, why don’t you take a little nap to … gather your strength? Trust me, you’ll need it.”
She didn’t see him raise his wand, so he must already have had it in his hands. All she remembered were his dark eyes just before she passed out.

xxx

“Wakey, wakey, Hermione.”
Hermione was brought back to consciousness when she felt a mild slap on her cheek. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up, but something was restraining her. Looking around, she discovered that she was on the couch in her own sitting room, but it had a few additions. The couch was broader, and as far as she remembered, she never had any cuffs attached to it. Her hands were bound over her head, but she could still bend her arms to some extent, so it wasn’t completely uncomfortable. What was uncomfortable was the fact that she was naked, and Voldemort was sitting next to her, looking down on her naked body with greed in his eyes.
However, there was something with the whole situation that amused her. “Seriously? You have bound me to a couch and are about to torture me? Where is the originality in that?”
Voldemort looked at her face; his lips curved into a smile. “Some methods are classic for a reason, dear. Just look at how lovely your breasts look when you are lying like this.”
His hand came down on her right breast, and he stroked it gently. Hermione’s amusement disappeared and was replaced with anxiety.
“So, you are going to rape me.”
He chuckled. “Oh, dear, if we get to the intercourse part, it’s only because you have begged for it. Several times.”
Hermione swallowed and tried not to feel how the pleasure swirled through her body as he manipulated her nipple. She sighed in relief when he removed his hand.
“Where is Althea?” She wanted to know instead. She highly doubted Voldemort would let the girl see this. Even though she didn’t think he had hurt Althea while she was passed out, she was still worried. Obviously.
“She is asleep,” he said, tilting his head. “I have put a Silencing Spell around this room, so you can be as loud as you like. She won’t hear anything.”
Hermione shuddered. But in some strange way, she could see that he was speaking the truth and was content with it. At least he wouldn’t have any reason to hurt Althea tonight when he had Hermione bound in front of him.
“But before I begin, I’ll give you one last chance. What is it that you can do to stop me?” he asked, looking her straight in the eye again.
Hermione pressed her lips together again. There must be something she could do. There was always something you could do. She just had to find it.
Voldemort, however, smiled. “I was hoping you were going to react like that. Well then, let’s begin.”
He stood up and walked away. Hermione stretched her neck, trying to see what he was doing. Worry was like a tight knot in her stomach. She wasn’t afraid that he was going to kill her. This wasn’t about killing. However, it was very worrisome that she had no idea what to expect. She had, of course, read about sexual games which involved someone being at the complete mercy of another, unless a safeword was uttered. Something told her Voldemort would never give her a safeword.
When he came back, he was carrying a plate filled with different objects. Among the scarier things was one of her kitchen knives. Among the puzzling was a tube with something that looked like chocolate sauce. She looked up at him, and her disbelief must have been showing on her face because he chuckled.
“You’ll understand soon enough, my dear,” he purred and put the plate down on the coffee table.
He started to undo his black robe, and for some reason, Hermione couldn’t take her eyes away. She tried not to feel disappointed when she saw that he was wearing a black t-shirt and trousers underneath. Why on earth would she be disappointed? This situation was unnerving already; she did not want him to be naked.
She flinched when he sat down next to her. He ignored it and picked up the tube with chocolate. He undid the lid and brought it to her belly.
“Now, you’ll have to keep perfectly still. Otherwise, I may end up writing the wrong runes, and you can find your belly on fire instead of what I have planned,” he warned her.
Hermione wasn’t sure she liked what he had planned more than being set on fire. However, fighting him right now would only lead to her being tied up even further, and she didn’t want that either. Hence, she tried not to move as the cold chocolate sauce landed on her stomach.
“Why are you writing runes with chocolate sauce?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.
“Because I like chocolate sauce,” he replied, keeping his eyes on what he was writing on her belly.
She could feel the rune he was writing. It was the same one, repeated four times on her belly and then, written two times on both thighs. She had no idea what purpose it was supposed to have, but it didn’t feel very scary. In fact, her fear was slowly changing into curiosity and (dare she think it?) lust. His left hand, the one that wasn’t smearing her with chocolate sauce, was over her hip, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her body. All she could think about was what would happen when he was done.
“There,” he said softly and straightened, replacing the tube of chocolate sauce on the plate and picking up the knife instead.
Fear immediately returned to Hermione.
“Now I just need some of your blood,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “Any place in particular you want me to cut?”
She pressed her lips together. Surely, he didn’t think she wanted to be cut at all?
He placed the knife at her cheek, and she tried to move away. Okay, maybe there were some places on her body she would prefer to be left unmarred.
“Leg,” she said, hoping that she wasn’t too late.
Thankfully, Voldemort withdrew the knife from the cheek and let it slide down the side of her body until it reached her thigh. Hermione held her breath as he made a small cut just above her knee. She exhaled. That hadn’t been too bad. But she still had no idea what he would do with her blood. There was something called Blood Magic. From what she had heard about it, blood wasn’t at all good to play around with. Quite the opposite. Blood Magic was usually used in the darkest of the Dark Arts. So, of course, Voldemort would rejoice using it.
Right then, Voldemort smeared her blood over his wand, and Hermione felt her heart make an extra leap out of fear. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Ineo,” he said, and the blood on his wand disappeared with a bright flash.
At once, Hermione could feel the skin of her belly and thigh heating up, right under where he had written the runes. The heat spread to the surrounding areas. At first, it was rather nice. She had been freezing a bit, lying naked like that. But it only took a minute before the heat started to increase to uncomfortable levels.
Hermione tensed and started to squirm, trying to find some way that would relieve the hotness. It was starting to get particularly bothersome between her legs, and she found herself spreading her legs in the hope of getting some coolness down there.
Voldemort chuckled and took something else from the plate. It was an ice cube, one of those in plastic so the cold water inside it wouldn’t mix with the rest of the beverage. With a smirk, he placed it just beneath the runes on her stomach. Hermione let out a yelp. It was painful at first, but then, it started to cool the area, and Hermione could take a shuddering breath.
He began to slide the ice cube over her belly, never on the runes but around them.
“It’s a rather interesting spell, wouldn’t you say?” he asked innocently. “The longer I keep it active, the hotter you’ll feel.”
He moved the ice cube down her thigh. She began to breathe faster. She couldn’t decide if it were painful or not. Every time his fingertips touched her skin, it was definitely not painful, and it greatly confused her. She knew he was doing this because he wanted to show her that she couldn’t do anything to stop him, but …
“Oh, will you look at that,” he said mildly, changing his seat so he was sitting between her legs.
One of his fingers came up to her sex, and Hermione had to bite back a moan as he slid his fingers over her labia.
“You are dripping already.” He withdrew his finger and looked up at her.
Hermione watched breathlessly as he brought the finger up to his mouth and licked it. Merlin, he looked perfectly delicious when he did that.
No, she did not just think that. She did not think Lord Voldemort looked sexy.
His smile widened. He could probably see what she was thinking. Bastard. If she weren’t tied down, she would—
Her thoughts stopped coming when Voldemort brought the ice cube down to her sex and pushed it inside her cunt. The sudden coldness in all the heat made Hermione lose her breath. It was a very intense feeling that made the walls in her cunt cramp up. Then she felt the ice cube leave her body, and the hotness started to lessen a little. Instead, something else was torturing her skin. A tongue.
She managed to open her eyes, which had fallen shut some time ago, and saw Voldemort leaning over her, licking the chocolate runes from her body. As he made his way from her right thigh to her belly and down to her left thigh, the intense heat disappeared and was replaced by a tingling. She took a deep breath, feeling spent.
Voldemort sat up again and wiped some chocolate away from the corner of his mouth. “Now, wasn’t that fun?”
She stared at him. It had been intense and scary, not fun. Once again, Voldemort seemed to read her thoughts from her expression. He laughed.
“Well, I had fun, and that is what counts.” Still smirking, he placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned over her.
Hermione could feel her heart speed up again in anticipation.
He stopped when he was a mere inch away from her face. “If you admit that you liked it as well, I can untie you, and then, we can do this properly.”
Hermione looked deeply into his eyes. They weren’t cold any longer. He looked … excited.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked breathlessly.
He leaned even closer and gave her a small kiss on her nose before withdrawing and sitting down between her legs again.
“I have always felt it important to establish the power structure in a relationship right from the beginning,” he explained and placed his hands on her ankles. “Since you seem reluctant to accept it, I’ll do whatever I need to do to show you who has the power.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, and she felt anger rise in her chest. “If you mean yourself, then of course not. A relationship should be built on equal partnership and—”
His laugh broke her off. She stared at him in anger. His laugh lessened, and he began stroking her leg from ankle to thigh. It did nothing to lessen her anger.
“Oh, my sweet Hermione. Now you know who I am, what else can you expect?” He leaned closer to her again, his eyes hardening. “I’m Lord Voldemort. No one is equal to me.”
Hermione growled and tried to give him a kick, but he prevented it by holding her legs down.
“But you aren’t the Dark Lord anymore,” she spat. “You have nothing of your old power!”
His smiled disappeared, and for a moment, Hermione thought he was going to hit her. Then, he slowly withdrew his wand from the holster on his arm. Hermione’s eyes widened in fear.
“And yet, your expression right now tells me I do,” he replied softly and placed his wand against her stomach. “It is wise of you to fear me. Do you know how long I’ve had this wand?”
She shook her head slowly while watching the wand, preparing for the worst.
“For four years. I bought it the morning after I fucked you.” He drew small circles on her stomach with the wand, moving downwards over her belly and thigh. “Do you know how many people I’ve killed with this wand?”
Her eyes snapped up to his. He held her gaze, and at the same time, she felt something push into her cunt. A shock wave of magic went through her, forcing her to climax fast and hard.
“Thirty-eight,” he whispered and withdrew the wand again. It was wet with her juices.
Hermione stared at him, breathing heavily, and she didn’t want to take in what had just happened.
Voldemort leaned closer to her again, this time actually lying down on top of her. “Now, Hermione. Please remind me, what is it you can do to stop me from making you do whatever I want?”
Hermione swallowed. He had just made her climax, using a wand he had killed thirty-eight persons with. He had just made her climax, using a wand he had killed thirty-eight persons with! She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.
“Nothing,” she replied hoarsely.
He looked down at her in triumph, and then, he bent his head and kissed her lips. She didn’t open her mouth, and he withdrew a few seconds later, arching his eyebrow in question.
She couldn’t just take it. He might be able to do whatever he wanted with her, but he wouldn’t win. She still knew one thing that gave her power over him.
“But that doesn’t change the fact that you will always want me more than I want you.”
He frowned.
She continued, tears running from the corners of her eyes and down her hair. “I felt it when I was inside you. You have much stronger feelings for me than I’m even capable of having for anyone.”
His expression turned unreadable. Then, he suddenly put his hands into her hair and looked deep into her eyes. Hermione didn’t hear him utter the words, but in the next moment, she could feel him inside her mind. He tore through her memories before finding the one he was looking for. It was of the time she had been inside his mind when he hadn’t noticed. It only took a couple of seconds for him to see it; then, he withdrew again.
“So you know about the drawing of magic,” he said coldly. “That doesn’t matter. You will not be able to stop it. Right?”
She shook her head slowly. No, she was well aware that she couldn’t.
“Good.” He sat up again, and with a wave of his wand, her hands were free. “And don’t read too much into the fact of what you think I may or may not feel for you. Unlike you, I don’t let my feelings control me.”
She didn’t believe him. She did still have some power over him. That made her feel a little bit better. He was able to make her do whatever he wanted, but she was able to make him feel things. And since he was neglecting the fact that feelings were important, she was sure she would be able to use it against him in the future. She would just have to bide her time.
As she stood up, she massaged her arms which had got a bit stiff from being bound. She wanted to get some clothes on, perhaps take a shower and cry a little more. Then, she would come back out and simply … live with him. For now. Until she could think about some safe way to remove herself and Althea from his presence. She wasn’t giving up, only retreating so she would be able to fight the battles she could win.
“Where are you going?”
She had taken three steps towards the bathroom door, but now, she froze in a sudden fear. Then she scowled at herself. It would only be exhausting if she jumped at every sound he made. Unless she did something that threatened him, he wouldn’t hurt her. He had as good as said that.
She turned around slowly, her arms over her chest. Despite everything that had happened, she felt uncomfortable standing in front of him naked.
“I’m taking a shower.”
He took a few steps towards her, and Hermione had to force herself from flinching away.
“You are?”
She scowled at him. “Do I have to ask for your permission? Like that won’t become boring fast. Please Voldemort, can I use the loo? May I sit down and eat dinner? Could I, please, be allowed to breathe?”
He chuckled. “You are very amusing at times. Did you know that?”
She rolled her eyes, annoyance building in her chest. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, can I go?”
“Kiss me.”
She stared at him in disbelief. Did he really expect her to …? Yes, of course, he did. Apparently, it wasn’t enough for him to be able to force her physically to do what he wanted. Now he wanted her to follow his commands.
However, she knew what the outcome would be if she didn’t comply, and she did not want to go through the whole tied-to-the-couch ordeal again. Therefore, she closed the distance between them with one step and rose on her tiptoes to reach his mouth.
The pleasure it brought her made her knees feel weak. It should be forbidden to kiss like that. Hermione’s eyes fell shut as he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. His tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, and she willingly opened it. The sparks of pleasure that travelled through her body were wonderful. It made her forget everything but his warm body and wet lips. At least for a little while.
But, when he withdrew, she remembered everything and was only left with a feeling of guilt and confusion. How could someone so evil make her feel so fantastic?
“That was … most satisfying.”
Was it just her or did he also sound a bit breathless? She looked up at him. Yes, he looked a bit dazzled. That made her feel smug, but she carefully schooled her expression.
“Well, then I’ll take that shower now.”
He merely nodded before he turned around and went back to the couch. Hermione hurried into the bathroom. Once she stood under the hot water, she was finally able to relax. She could think again. Somehow, she would make it through this. When she was done in the shower, she would go out to him and act normal. She would take care of Althea, do her school work and explore what this “Soul Mate” thing was. Somehow, she was sure it would help her deal with Voldemort.
The only problem was the whole “acting normal” thing. He was, after all, Lord Voldemort. How did you act normal around the person who had been the nightmare of your childhood? A man who had killed and tortured countless people? A wizard so powerful that he had managed to come back from death? A man who wanted her so much she couldn’t even find the words to describe it. A wizard she had managed to throw out the window.
Hermione giggled nervously. Normal. Yeah, right. Nothing about this was normal.
Before she had the time to figure out how she should best tackle the problem, she was finished in the shower. Since she didn’t want him to come in and get her, she didn’t linger. Instead, she stepped out and dried herself off. Quietly, she opened the door to the bedroom to get some clothes. On the way to the wardrobe was Althea’s bed, and Hermione paused next to it.
Her daughter was lying on her left side with her fingers wrapped in her hair, like she always did when she was asleep. Her mouth was a little open, and she was breathing slowly. Hermione knelt next to the bed and stroked her daughter’s warm cheek before pulling up her covers a little bit.
They would manage. Hermione had to protect Althea no matter what. Even if that meant keeping Voldemort in a relatively good mood when he was around Althea. Nothing would hurt her little girl.
Filled with resolve, Hermione quickly dressed and left the bedroom as quietly as she had entered. Even though it was already night, she wasn’t tired at all. Also, she didn’t think she would have been able to sleep even if she had been tired. It was one thing to come to a decision about what to do. It was another to actually do it. Voldemort was still terrifying, even though she had decided not to give him any reason to hurt her.
He was sitting on the un-transfigured couch with a book in his hands. There was no sign of the plate with things, and Hermione hoped he had banished them all. She would never be able to use that kitchen knife again. A shiver went through her body just as he looked up at her.
“You need to stop looking like I’m going to eat you,” he remarked matter-of-factly. “It will be impossible for you to keep my secret if you always look at me like that.”
She crossed her arms and scowled. “Sorry, I’m not particularly used to being in this situation.”
“Well, you’ll have to learn how to deal,” he commanded and looked at her from head to toe. “A walk should calm you down.”
“Excuse me?”
“Walking. In the forest, I think. You strike me as a person who is relaxed by nature.”
How could he go from forcing her body to follow his every command and then sound almost … considerate?
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think you would just let me walk away on my own.”
“Of course not. I’ll be coming with you. Then we’ll have the opportunity to just talk.”
She stared at him in disbelief. Lord Voldemort wanted to simply talk to her? Why?
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said, scowling. “Do you really think I would have come by here so often if I did not enjoy talking to you?”
“Right.”
Somehow, it was easy to forget that he had ever been Marcus, but now that he mentioned it, she remembered that they had spent many nights just talking.
She paled. What had she told? Something that could help him hurt her friends? She tried to remember everything, but all she remembered were the long, academic conversations about magical theories and an occasional tale about her own childhood. Had they talked about Harry? She knew she had mentioned the upcoming wedding, but what else? Oh, Merlin, what if Voldemort had used her to find out information about Harry? Had she said anything important? She couldn’t remember!
She noticed that she was holding her breath and slowly exhaled. Panicking would not help her. If she had said anything important about Harry, it was too late to do anything about it now. She had to be very careful about what she said from hereon.
“Well then, are you coming?” He looked quite amused as he went up to her and offered her his arm.
“We can’t leave Althea alone here,” she objected, even though she did feel like it would be nice to get some fresh air. It would be even nicer if she got to go alone, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“We can Apparate back in a second. I’ll put up a ward that will alert us if she wakes up or if anything disturbs the flat.”
That sounded reasonable.
“Very well.”
He waved his wand towards the bedroom and around the flat. Then, he pulled her arm to him. The next moment, she felt the sickening sensation of Apparition. Once her head was finished spinning, she saw that they were standing on an unfamiliar forest trail. It was dark and cold, but before she had time to complain about it, he removed his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She gave him a puzzling look, but he had already started to walk. She quickly followed, almost stumbling over a rock that lay on the dirt trail. However, as soon as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she could watch out for any other big rocks.
“I must admit that I’m surprised,” Voldemort said after they had walked in silence for a couple of minutes. “I thought you would be bursting with questions you wanted to ask me. This could, after all, be a perfect opportunity for you to get the inside scoop on every follower I’ve ever had.”
Hermione looked at him, puzzled. “You mean you would answer if I asked?”
“You’ll find that I can be very rewarding to people who make me happy.”
“I’m sure,” she muttered. “But I can’t say I have spent much time thinking about your followers. Most of them are dead, after all.”
“True, but I thought there was someone you were just dying to find out more about. After all, the look of annoyance on your face was very clear when you realised Draco Malfoy was in your class.”
She grimaced. Yes, it was true that she was dying to find out what Malfoy’s deal was, but she would never have used Marcus to get information like that. Although, using Voldemort was a whole different deal. Fair and just were the last things he was. However, that didn’t mean she wanted to take advantage over that. She still had some honour.
But, when it came to Malfoy ...
“Fine, what is he doing there?” she asked, not able to stop her own curiosity.
“He is paying off his debt to society. Lucius is still in Azkaban but will be released later this year for, as they call it, good behaviour. Of course, his traitorous nature and sycophantic ways no doubt helped.” Voldemort wrinkled his nose. “However, not even Malfoy’s riches could pay off all the debts the family has to pay. Draco is working at Oxford as a … well, handyman, I guess you can call him. In exchange, he is allowed to listen in on classes now and again. He doesn’t have any degrees yet, and it will probably take a few years until he gets them. Until then, he will only participate in a few classes. Since his girlfriend is in Transfiguration, he has decided to follow her most of the time.”
Hermione felt awfully gleeful that the Malfoy family had lost their status. Yet, she was bothered by the fact that Malfoy Senior would be released so soon. For all she cared, he could rot away in Azkaban forever.
“What about Narcissa?”
“Dead,” Voldemort said with a shrug. “Only lasted a year in Azkaban; then, she killed herself.”
Hermione felt a small sting of guilt. Draco might be a bully, but losing your mother was just sad.
“So, Draco doesn’t do his homework?”
“Nope. He is allowed to take part in the practical demonstrations, like today, but I’m not grading him.”
“Oh.”
Silence fell over them again as Hermione thought about how much things had changed in the United Kingdom since she left. Or, well, the country hadn’t changed per se, but the people in it had. Harry and Ginny were finally together; Ron was running a successful business with George; Draco was no longer the spoiled brat she had known but had to work as a handyman; and Lord Voldemort spent time with a Mudblood.
“Many of the Death Eaters that survived the final battle just disappeared afterwards,” Hermione stated after a while. “Did you kill them?”
“Most of them. I do not allow people to betray me.” His statement was so casual that he might as well have been talking about the weather.
“Why not kill Draco?”
“The Malfoys have an uncanny ability to return to everyone’s good grace after a while. Lucius, despite his arrogance, is quite talented at Arithmancy and everything else that has to do with numbers. Draco is much the same as his father but still in the rough, so to speak. It would be a dreadful waste of talent to kill them.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Just like you, dear.”
She scowled at him. “Don’t compare me to the Malfoys!”
He chuckled. “Oh, you are cleverer than they are. And much more attractive.”
She blushed but felt quite pleased at the same time.
“Although, that may be because I’ve never really liked blonds,” Voldemort mused.
It sounded like he was talking more to himself than to her. Hermione, however, couldn’t stop her snort.
“Oh yes, who would choose manageable blond hair when they can have this?” She picked up a stray of her frizzy brown hair.
Voldemort arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you would care about such petty things.”
She sighed. “I don’t. Not really, anyway. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my hair will always behave the way it wants. Besides, there are more important things to worry about.”
“How mature of you to realise that,” he said in a mocking tone.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know; that’s me, always behaving much older than I am.” She stopped as the thought hit her. “Wait. You are Voldemort.”
“I am?” he asked, feigning shock and stopping next to her.
She rolled her eyes. “What I mean is that I thought you were thirty-five years old or something. You look thirty-five and act … well, around thirty-five.”
“Your point?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“How old are you? I mean, really?” Hermione asked, trying to remember what year Tom Riddle was born in.
“Seventy-five,” he answered.
She let her eyes wander over him and then she shuddered.
“What?” he asked, annoyance in his voice.
“I could be your granddaughter,” she remarked with a grimace. “That doesn’t seem a bit strange to you?”
He chuckled. “Since you aren’t my granddaughter, I really don’t care. And as for my age … well, you already said I do not look nor act like a seventy-five-year-old.”
“No, you don’t,” she agreed.
In fact, sometimes he was rather childish, but she wouldn’t voice that opinion out loud right now.
He stroked her cheek. “Do I feel like seventy-five?”
Hermione shuddered at the intense look he gave her and shook her head. How could you be so entranced by someone you were supposed to despise?
“Then, that isn’t an issue,” he said softly, and his hand came up to her hair, stroking it.
No, he was right. That wasn’t the issue at all. What he had done during those seventy-five years was, though.
Voldemort let his arm drop to his side again. “What?”
“What ‘what’?” she asked snappishly.
Did he expect her to read his thoughts and know what he suddenly wanted to know? He was so full of himself. Though, she had an idea on what would come up next and wasn’t sure she should talk about it. His past would always be an issue. Sooner or later, she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it anymore. Perhaps it was better to do it now when Althea wasn’t around to get in trouble?
“You look saddened all of a sudden. Why?” he asked.
“Your history is always going to be a problem between us,” she stated carefully. “I’d have to undergo a personality change not to be bothered by it and I don’t want that.”
He regarded her closely. “Neither of us can change the past, Hermione. You shouldn’t worry about it.”
She pressed her lips together. “What happened in the past matters. Everything we do has consequences. You know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be hiding like this.”
He sighed. “Still, we can’t change it.”
“Even if you had the chance to, you wouldn’t,” Hermione said darkly.
“Oh, there is a great deal of things I would change,” he replied with a shrug and began walking again.
Hermione followed. “But not the murders, right?”
“Some of them.”
He sounded rather amused. Was he mocking her? She scowled.
“But only because killing them turned out to be a mistake for you, right?”
“Obviously,” he replied dryly.
She sighed. “And that’s the problem. You only think about yourself. How am I supposed to deal with that?”
“As long as you do what you are told, I hardly see us having any problems,” he said lightly.
“We would have even less problems if Harry managed to find and kill you,” Hermione muttered, not able to stop herself.
He grabbed her upper arms tightly. Hermione tried to break free by kicking and wiggling. He forcefully pushed her off the path and against a big pine tree. With his entire body, he held her against it, making it almost impossible for her to move.
“And here I was thinking about how nice we were getting along,” he said, leaning closer to her. “Now, I will only say this once, so make sure you listen closely.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes but didn’t say a word.
“Since you can’t tell Potter a thing about who I am, I won’t have to worry about you telling him. However, if he does find out another way, I will kill him. Oh, don’t give me that look; I know I’ve said it before. The difference now is that Potter is no longer protected by the same things he was before. And I don’t have any issues with fighting dirty.”
“If Harry does find out, he will tell others,” Hermione spat.
Voldemort gave her a cold smile. “And I’ll kill them all. You are the only one alive who knows who I really am, and I’ll keep it that way. Even if that means I’ll have to kill every single person on this planet.”
Hermione shuddered. Even though she wasn’t certain Voldemort could successfully kill Harry, there was no denying he could kill many others before he was finally defeated. After all, he had before.
Voldemort regarded her closely as she thought about it. When his threat was received, he released her, looking satisfied.
“Well, I feel calmer now, don’t you?”
Hermione hugged herself. Despite the warm cloak she was wearing, she felt cold. There was just no winning against this man. Whatever she did, someone would get hurt.
“Can’t we just go home?” she asked in a low voice, feeling very tired all of a sudden.
“Of course, dear,” he purred.
Less forcefully than before, he grabbed her again and Apparated them back. Once they landed, she moved away from him, needing to put some space between them. She wanted nothing more than to go to bed and not have to be with him for a few hours. She was dead tired. It was already past midnight. Good thing it was a Saturday tomorrow, and she didn’t have anything pressing to do.
“I’m going to sleep,” she muttered.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her around.
“Sleep or sleep?” he asked, pronouncing the last word with a suggestive murmur.
“Just sleep,” she said, feeling a bit nervous.
“Then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.” He let go of her shoulder, smirking. “I will stay here and read for a while. Then, I’ll join you.”
“Join me?” she asked with uncertainty, worry growing in her stomach. She did not want to have sex with the man who had just threatened to kill everyone she knew.
“To sleep,” he added, looking highly amused. “I don’t plan to sleep on the couch.”
She didn’t like it one bit and was about to tell him to leave her alone when she caught his expression. He looked eager. Like he wanted her to say no, so he could prove once again that she could do nothing to stop him. Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Fine,” she just said, and he looked at bit disappointed.
Sleeping with him would be very uncomfortable, but at least, she wouldn’t have to give him more power. She went to the bathroom, her mood dark.
Brushing her teeth and doing everything else necessary for a night in bed only took fifteen minutes. Then she walked straight into the bedroom, pulled on the T-shirt she usually slept in and sank down in bed.
She didn’t know how long she lay there, tossing and turning. Any minute, Lord Voldemort could come in, wanting to go to sleep as well. How could she possibly be expected to go to sleep with a known mass murderer lying next to her? Even though he didn’t seem to want to hurt her now, you never knew when he would change his mind. And she couldn’t think of anything she could do to stop him yet. He still hadn’t given her back her wand. Although, once she had time to digest this new turn of events and think it over, she was hopeful she would find some way to do something. For that, however, she needed a clear mind and she wouldn’t get that without sleep.
Alas, sleep eluded her.
After what must be over an hour, she heard him moving inside the bathroom and flushing the toilet. A little while later, the door opened. Hermione closed her eyes, pretending to sleep.
He walked around the bed and sank down on the left side of it. She tensed as he held up the covers and crawled under it. Fear welled in her chest when she felt his wand at her back. Oh, Merlin, what did he plan to do? Should she turn around? Scream?
Her T-shirt disappeared. In the next moment, her knickers disappeared as well. What the …?
He let out a satisfied grunt and spooned against her, his hand coming up to her left breast. He stroked it gently before letting his hand rest next to it. He leaned closer and kissed her shoulder. It sent small jolts of pleasure through her body, but she was too tense to enjoy it.
She lay there for a couple of minutes, hardly daring to breathe, until she realised he wasn’t going to move more. She exhaled slowly and, against her better judgement, started to relax. It took her a while to fall asleep, but when he didn’t move or say anything more, she finally managed to.
When he entered her wet sex, she woke up with a moan. His hand came up and covered her mouth.
“Hush, dear, you don’t want to wake up the little one,” Voldemort whispered softly in her ear.
Hermione hardly noticed. She was too busy enjoying the pleasure emerging from between her legs and spreading through her body, getting more intense since he was holding her so tightly. He moved fast and hard, drilling into her body, taking what he wanted. One of her own hands moved down, and she started to massage her clit, feeling the orgasm coming as she moved to meet his strokes.
“Yesssss,” he hissed against her neck as she came and started to milk his cock, which was more than happy to give her all its seed.
It wasn’t one of those explosive orgasms she had experienced before, but it left her feeling relaxed and happy. Until she remembered whom she had just done it with. She moved away from him, wincing as his now soft member left her.
“Why did you do that?” she whispered furiously before she glanced nervously at Althea who was sleeping peacefully in the smaller bed next to them.
Voldemort smirked and turned to his back, stretching his hands above his head. “You were lying there, all soft and inviting. How could I not? Besides, you seemed to enjoy it just as much.”
She scowled at him. However, since she didn’t know how to respond to his smugness verbally, she left the bed and went to relieve her bladder, which suddenly felt awfully full. Ten minutes later, she came back out, dressed in the same red shirt and blue jeans as the day before. He was still lying in bed, looking out through the window with a thoughtful expression. Before she had time to scold him, Althea woke up.
“Muuuuuum,” she whined.
Hermione could immediately hear that there was something wrong with Althea. In two big steps, she was at her daughter’s bed and sat down next to her, taking her hand.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Hermione asked, concerned.
“Head hurt,” Althea complained.
Her eyes were closed, but she had a hard grip of her mother’s hand. Her face was stuck in a grimace of pain, and a few tears had escaped her eyes.
Hermione placed her hand against Althea’s forehead and got really worried when she felt that her daughter was burning up. What should she do? She had to call a doctor, no, take her to St. Mungo’s—
She hardly felt any pain when a naked Voldemort yanked her away, tackled her to the floor and placed a shield around them. Before she had time to ask what the hell he was doing, he covered her eyes with his hand, just barely managing to protect her from the blinding light erupting from the girl on the bed. However, he didn’t have time to cover her ears, and the explosion that followed made her deaf and disoriented for a couple of seconds. She couldn’t see anything, but she felt the whole room shake. All she heard was the ringing in her ears as Voldemort removed his hand from her eyes and sat up. Dazed, Hermione just stared at the destruction of the bedroom. Everything seemed to have exploded into a million pieces. On the remains of the small bed, Althea sat, crying. That snapped her out of her stupor. Althea seemed unhurt, but Hermione hurried over and lifted her up, making sure nothing was amiss. Once she was sure her daughter wouldn’t fall down dead, she turned to Voldemort.
“What did you do?” she asked, certain he had something to do with it.
“Nothing. It was magical diarrhoea,” he replied as he swirled his wand over his body and was dressed in a flash.
“What?” She had never heard about that before.
“Well, it’s like when you have been constipated for a very long time, and the body wants to get rid of it all at once.” He made a gesture over the room. “Diarrhoea.”
Hermione was still just blinking at him. “What?”
“Too much magic inside a small girl who doesn’t use her magic equals magical diarrhoea,” Voldemort told her slowly, like she was the small girl.
“But … that has never happened before.”
“I’m sure it has, just not with such a large magnitude,” he answered with a grimace. “Good thing I saw what was about to happen or you could have been a head shorter.”
“Althea would never hurt me!”
“Not intentionally, no, but you can’t really control this. I should have made her use her magic more, I guess …” Voldemort kicked some of the rumble.
Hermione looked down at Althea who was sobbing against her shoulder. Was he telling the truth?
“You should have, yes,” a female voice came from nowhere.
Hermione’s eyes widened when the shape of a woman took form in the middle of the room. A very beautiful and clearly-not-human woman.
“Hello, Hermione,” she said, her voice as soft as silk. “I’m Morgana.”

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