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The Dragon Chronicles	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Terrorism is bad. War is bad. Please love each other and help each other. Like leaving your favourite fanfiction authors a review!
Many thanks to Ozzy for betaing this chapter!
Enjoy!
Chapter 15
Somehow, Hermione did manage to fall asleep the night before the Hogsmeade outing (in her mind also called the have-to-kiss-Voldemort-for-the-price-of-letting-the-students-see-their-parents outing) and woke up with her nose pressed against someone’s ribcage.
Sleepily, she rubbed her nose against the soft, warm skin. It had been so long since she had just got to be close to someone. Hug someone.
She stretched out her arm, putting it over the person’s belly. She couldn’t actually remember when she had last hugged someone. Well, besides Kara, that was. But dragons weren’t as soft as humans were. Otherwise, she would probably sleep cuddled up with Kara every night.
Well, technically, she could probably do with just sleeping next to Kara’s scaly skin too, if it weren’t for Voldemort insisting they share a bed.
Right then she realised exactly who she was pressed up against. She groaned.
“Good morning to you too,” Voldemort said, his voice resonating in his chest, sending vibrations into her body.
She really should’ve jumped away or at least retracted her arm. If he were anyone else, she would have pressed even closer towards him. Now when she was embracing someone, she realised she didn’t want to stop.
“Shh,” she finally mumbled. “I’m pretending you are someone else.”
Dear Merlin was that the wrong thing to say. She realised she had made a mistake the moment the words left her mouth, but she still let out a yelp when she found herself nailed against the mattress, with a furious Dark Lord on top of her, and a wand against her neck.
“I was joking,” she quickly squealed, before he started torturing her, or worse, decided that the students couldn’t go to Hogsmeade. “I could never forget who you are, you are the only one my body yearns to be close to.”
Perhaps that was admitting too much, but his anger did subside just a little. He regarded her through narrow eyes, his body still heavy upon hers. His hips were on top of hers, his legs pressed against the sides of hers, keeping her locked down. Her right arm was caught underneath her body, and he held down her left hand with his, his fingers around her wrist.
“Is that so? Are you certain you are not picturing one of your lovers in your mind?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Perhaps Viktor Krum? Or Ronald Weasley?”
“How do you know about them?” she asked in a low voice, suddenly scared for their well-being. Because she got the impression that Voldemort was actually jealous. Not in a normal way, though, but in a homicidal way.
“There is nothing I don’t know about you, Hermione,” he whispered threateningly.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about them, then,” she whispered back, nervous. “You made sure that I only want you, remember?”
It was true. Despite the worrying situation, Hermione felt her body responding to his closeness. She could feel her sex pulsing, as if it were trying to leave her body to connect with his. Of course, she didn’t know for sure that the lust potion made it so she only wanted him, because she hadn’t been in a position to be attracted to another person, but it made sense that he would somehow make sure she imprinted on him.
“Why don’t you kiss me now?” she continued. “Then you’ll know I’m only thinking of you.”
Still pinning her down, he leant closer to her. She lifted her head, meeting his lips, showing him that she could do this. She wasn’t scared of being with him, potion or not.
His kiss was hot and brutal, sending spikes of lust down her body, to her core. She moaned, closing her eyes, meeting his heat with equal force.
The euphoria of finally getting what she had denied herself for so long made her body take a life of its own; she tilted her hips against his as much as she could, trying to get even the tiniest amount of friction against her aching sex.
Through the fabric of her pyjamas pants, she could feel him, starting to grow stiff. Clearly, he had waited for this as well. It was an empowering thought. She knew she only wanted him because of the potions she had taken, but he wanted her all on his own.
The Dark Lord was lusting after a Mudblood.
Finally, he moved one of his legs in between hers, pushing them aside. Hermione humped against his leg, feeling the wetness of her cunt soak the fabric of her pants.
His hand was there. He was stroking her through her pyjamas pants, pushing against her opening.
Hermione let out a cry into his mouth when he suddenly forced his fingers inside her.
The fabric of her pants strained around her belly and arse due to being pushed inside her, but she didn’t care about the discomfort. She wanted him in deeper, harder.
As fast and brutal as the kiss had been, it stopped just as fast.
Hermione opened her eyes, blinking in surprise as he rolled off her. He marched towards the bathroom, slamming the door after him.
Understanding that he wouldn’t return to finish the job, Hermione groaned in frustration and shoved down her pants, finishing the job herself, closing her eyes, pretending her own quivering fingers were his.
It was a far cry from the pleasure he had brought her, but she was fast and hard enough to manage to get off. Only after that did she finally allow herself to take in what had happened. What she had been close to doing.
Feeling disgusting, she quickly pulled on her pants again and jumped off the bed. She grabbed her dressing gown and hurried out of her chambers. She needed a shower and she didn’t want to see Voldemort again until she had had the time to cool down and think.
And get rid of the feeling of his body on top of her.
xxx
Voldemort didn’t know exactly what had come over him. Of course the girl wouldn’t be thinking about anyone but him when they were together. No one could picture anyone in Lord Voldemort’s place. It was simply impossible.
Whatever feeling had overtaken him by the mere suggestion that she was picturing someone else was just anger that she would even pretend otherwise. But he had set her straight. Oh yes, she wouldn’t be thinking about anyone else now, that was certain.
Exhaling, he felt Elva and Tolv at the back of his mind, worried over his sudden outburst of emotions. He sent them a reassuring thought that nothing was amiss. He needed to go to his dragons, though. He had been meaning to practice with them, increase his power even more through them, but he hadn’t had the time for the past few days.
To get his mind off whatever strange feelings he had experienced (anger, just another type of anger), he decided to go down to his dragons and practice.
He waited until he heard Granger leave the chambers. It only took a few minutes. She wouldn’t want to look at him for a while, he knew her enough to know that. After practice, he would bring her to Diagon Alley to meet her friends. He wished to see them interact.
Until then, however, he wouldn’t think about her at all. He would just focus on Elva and Tolv.
His dragons felt him approach and flew down to meet him close to the Forbidden Forest. They had been hunting for breakfast in the forest, and were full of pride at having managed to have taken down a Thestral.
They fly so fast, but Elva was waiting in the forest, and when I told her they were close, she flew up and caught it right in the neck, Tolv said happily.
“Well done,” Voldemort said, patting Elva on her neck as she bumped her head against his shoulder affectionately. “And you are getting along with the other dragon?”
We tried, Elva said, not sounding so pleased anymore. He doesn’t like us. He just flies away, or growls at us.
“He will come around,” Voldemort promised her. “Just keep playing. He will want to be with his own species sooner or later.”
He thinks he is better than us because he is older, Tolv chimed in. But he isn’t. He is a water-head.
“I know,” Voldemort said with a sigh. Water-head was a slur dragon used to describe someone they thought was weak. “But we want him and his bondmate to work with us.”
Why do you want to mate with the curl-head? Tolv asked, curious.
Do you want baby-Toms? Elva chimed in.
“Hardly,” Voldemort said, snorting. “Intercourse is merely another way to establish power. But enough about her, I wish to do some experiments.”
Do them with me this time, Tolv insisted.
No, do me again, Elva begged. It tickles!
“If you are quiet, I might have time to do it with both of you,” Voldemort said, amused at their eagerness. “But for fairness’ sake, I will start with Tolv.”
A few hours later, Voldemort was finished with his dragons and had returned back to Hogwarts. It was time to focus on Hermione again.
He found her in her office, comparing two scrolls with each other, frowning and muttering to herself. When he came closer, she looked up and immediately rose from her seat. Then she seemed to scowl at her own reaction. He merely smiled. He enjoyed keeping people on their toes around him. Literarily and figuratively.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Ready for what?” she asked nervously, wetting her lips.
“Our visit to Diagon Alley,” he reminded her.
“Oh, right, yes, let me just…,” she trailed off, rolling up the two scrolls and placing them in a drawer in her desk.
She picked up her travelling cloak from the coat hanger near the fireplace. “Should I go first?”
“Very well.”
She disappeared through the fireplace with “woosh!” and he pulled his hood over his head before following. He didn’t need to draw attention to himself today. Not that a lot of people recognised him – he liked being able to go unnoticed again.
The Leaky Cauldron was exactly like he remembered. It had been years since he had last visited, and to his disdain, he saw that it still had the same barkeep, Tom. Many times, he had considered killing the man merely because of his name. But then he reminded himself that his name wasn’t Tom, so it shouldn’t bother him what other people were called.
Tom only cast them a glance before going back to talking to a customer with a pointy green hat on her head, who was complaining about the meal she had got.
Other than the witch, the place was quiet. Everyone kept to themselves, speaking in hushed voices, always cautious about what was going on around them. They kept their food and drinks close to themselves, as if afraid their dining company would poison them.
Granger was standing right next to the fireplace, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. When he started to walk towards the exit, she followed him, not saying anything.
Last year, Diagon Alley had been full of beggars. Since then, the Ministry of Magic had outlawed begging on the streets. Despite that, Diagon Alley was far from the lively, cheerful place he remembered from his childhood.
People were hurrying to their destinations, avoiding eye contact with others passing by. Outside some shops, people had erected stalls where they sold more or less conspicuous objects: amulets to counter curses and poisons, fabric that supposedly became invisible after you stitched it according to your measurements and second-hand things that were probably stolen. The Aurors hadn’t bothered investigating that, though.
With the hunt for Mudbloods and blood-traitors still ongoing, the Aurors hardly had time to go after some low-life thief who had stolen from some Muggle.
He could see Hermione watching it all with a sorrowful face, but she didn’t stop to try and help anyone. She just kept walking next to him, her shoulders stiff.
They reached Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes after a couple of minutes of walking and Voldemort showed Hermione in first. It was a bit more cheerful than Diagon Alley, but not by much.
It seemed to be the busiest shop, at any rate, and Voldemort was happy for his decision to let the twins live. Seventy-five percent of their profit went straight to the Ministry. They had yet to catch anyone else from the Order entering the store, but Voldemort wasn’t surprised. The Order was far from stupid.
He gestured to Yaxley to stay where he was. The Death Eater was sitting on the second floor, overlooking the entire ground floor of the shop.
“Fred!” Hermione exclaimed, when she saw the red-haired man behind the counter.
“Hermione,” the man gasped, coming around the counter, meeting her halfway and embracing her tightly.
“How are you? How is Ginny?” Fred asked, but then froze when he recognised Voldemort underneath the hood.
“I’m fine, and Ginny is too. She has been a lot of help, easing the students into the change of Headmistress,” Hermione said, and Voldemort wondered if she was saying it for his benefit (so he would think the youngest Weasley was cooperative), or for Fred’s.
“You have to give her our love,” Fred said, and then called back at the store: “Oi! George! Hermione is here!”
George came out of a room in the back, grinning. However, his grin also faltered when he saw Voldemort. Nevertheless, he went forward and hugged Hermione just as tightly as Fred had.
If it weren’t for the fact that Voldemort had interrogated them both personally, he would probably have got angry by their closeness to her. As it were now, he merely waited, his arms crossed.
“How are you doing?” Hermione asked.
“We are fine,” George answered. “Lots of customers. Guess they missed us.”
“Missing your handsome face, most likely,” Fred said, with a grin at his brother.
Hermione smiled. “I for one am certainly glad to see you.”
“Really? Never got the impression that you liked us very much, Granger,” Fred teased. “I for one remember when you called us ‘two idiots whose stupid inventions would get them killed, or worse, expelled from Hogwarts’.”
“Yeah, never could understand your priorities,” George chimed in. “Then again, I didn’t know I was being yelled at by the future Headmistress of Hogwarts.”
“Youngest Headmistress ever even,” Fred continued.
“Yes, well, someone had to do the job,” Hermione said, shrugging.
“Yeah, I doubt you can be worse than your predecessor,” George said, his tone solemn, but his face breaking out into a grin. “Merlin, I wish we had been students under Snape. He would have been driven into an early retirement within the year.”
“The year? Do your doubt our abilities that much, dear brother? Within the first term, I think,” Fred corrected him.
Hermione snorted. “Glad to see that you haven’t changed.”
“We are hoping you have, though, and that you are here to buy some products to use on good ol’ McGonagall,” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Hardly,” Hermione snorted. “I just came by to see how you are.”
Voldemort lost interest in listening after that, instead he started inspecting the shop. He knew that the twins had some ingenious inventions. That was another reason why Voldemort had spared them. In the society he was creating, he wanted innovative people like the twins. It was people like them that would come up with products that would help them against the Muggles and lead wizards to their rightful place in the world.
Besides, the Weasleys were an old wizarding bloodline famous for their fertility. If the twins were free, they could reproduce. They wouldn’t be allowed to raise the children of course, but it would lead to more magical children in the world. They would need those to take over the Muggle world once and for all.
His attention snapped back to Hermione when he heard the twins let out a cry. When he turned around, he saw Hermione fall against them. He could still see the sparks of magic in the air, and it seemed to have hit her in the back.
Who dared to hurt his wife? Voldemort flew to the door, which was standing open. Someone with a dark blue cloak was just Disapparating. Gone without a trace, before he could attempt to put up a ward against it.
He spun around, grabbing a mother who was standing pressed against the wall, her young children hiding behind her leg.
“Who was it?” he growled. “Who was it that just disappeared?”
“I didn’t get a clear look,” the mother whimpered, her voice full of fear. “It was a man, I think. Blue cloak. He just hissed something about a Mudblood?”
Voldemort pressed his wand against the woman’s temple, entering her mind, wanting to see the assailant for himself.
Alas, the woman’s mind was unorganised, all thoughts surrounding a newly born child and how she would support it and the older one, with their father on the run. She hadn’t been paying attention, just been pushed aside by someone larger. Definitely male.
The only thing the woman had picked up was an angry hiss: “No more Mudblood whoring for you!”
Voldemort withdrew from the woman’s mind. She was crying, begging him to stop, that she had children. The child was crying too. It was very annoying.
“Leave,” Voldemort just ordered coldly, before returning into the store, closing and warding the door behind him.
The twins had placed Hermione on the counter and were running diagnostic spells over her body. She wasn’t dead then, that was fortunate. He would have been most displeased if the person had both managed to kill Hermione and got away.
“Let me,” Voldemort said, moving his wand over her body, searching for what curse she had been hit with.
A sloppy Nightmare Curse, he finally concluded. They could be nasty; locking the person into their own worst nightmare until they died from it. However, you had to know the person to be able to apply it properly.
“She will be fine,” Voldemort said.
“What curse was that? Who cast it? Shouldn’t she be safe from your followers?” one of the twins asked.
Voldemort gave him a cold look. “I will deal with whoever did this. Now, step aside and I will take my wife back to Hogwarts and treat her there.”
For once, the twins did exactly what he said without joking. Voldemort gathered Hermione in his arms and spun around, Apparating to just outside the gates of Hogwarts. There, he cast a disillusionment spell over them, so no one would see them. He didn’t want any of the teachers or students running to him with questions about Hermione’s condition.
Alas, disillusionment spells didn’t work on dragons, and the moment he stepped into the grounds, Hermione’s dragon came at him with immense speed. Voldemort called for his own dragons who were just behind the older dragon anyway.
“Tell him that I will take care of his master,” Voldemort told Tolv and Elva. Since he didn’t have a bond with Hermione’s dragon, he couldn’t talk directly to him. “She has been hit by a curse, but she will be fine once I treat her. But to do that, I need to go into the castle.”
The dragons roared and growled at each other, until, finally, Hermione’s dragon took into the air again. By then, Hermione had begun to squirm in his arms, plagued by the nightmares. She would be fine with just some Dreamless Sleeping Potion. However, until he managed to get to their chambers and administrate it, she would be a tad uncomfortable.
- 14
- 15
- 16
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The Dragon Chronicles