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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 62961 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Warnings/codes Minor involved in sexual situation with adult (I am not using the code Paedo, since Hermione is way too old to appeal to a paedophile here), mild "BDSM", D/s, oral, toys, M/F, soloF, BP.

The Apprentice

Chapter Sixteen

Life sucked if you were a woman. The thought rushed her when she woke in sheer discomfort; a deep throbbing pulsed through her veins. Yeah, life really sucked. Hermione groaned, clutched the sheets tightly between her legs and rolled over. This was so inconvenient. Expecting a certain someone to investigate her belongings and not wanting to die straight away from sheer embarrassment, she hadn’t brought anything along to help relieve herself. Well, she had her fingers, but that would take forever and it just wasn’t the same. Perhaps if she just ignored it, it would go away.

Sure.

She pushed her face deep in her pillow. Perhaps if she passed out, she would wake again without this nonsense.

Another extremely viable option.

She groaned against the soft fabric. No, she knew that didn’t work. Brief moments of lack of oxygen usually made the feelings worse. She should have realised it last night when she almost wanted to jump Lord Voldemort’s bony body, she was nearing her ovulation date. It always made her horny as hell; but with the right potions and equipment, she’d been able to conceal it pretty darn good at Hogwarts. Neither was available to her right now. She moved around a bit, rubbing the sheet between her legs, until she realised what she was doing and jumped out of bed.

Okay, one cold shower coming up.

Her eyes fell on the intricate detail of the carvings on the wooden bedpost. Or perhaps she could hump one of those posts? Those ridges seemed to be made just for her enjoyment.

Ugh. Keep it together, Granger. You’ll never hear the end of it if Lord Voldemort happened to walk into the room, while you’re doing that.

The visual made her settle for the cold shower, immediately. It had to do the trick. Quickly grabbing her wand and her beaded bag, she raced into what only could be described as a glorious bathroom. It was all marble, white with veins of different shades of grey. Thank heaven; there wasn’t any pink to be spotted in here. Somehow, it reminded her a bit of the Prefects’ bathroom at Hogwarts. Only the tub wasn’t as large or as quickly filled, and there was no flirtatious mermaid picture on the wall. The only decorative features here were a couple of apparently obligatory silver snake ornaments. The ones, which also functioned as taps, had made her slightly paranoid in the beginning; but everything was in working order, so she ignored the creepy thought.

However, this place had one thing the Hogwarts’ bathroom sorely missed. It had the beneficence of having a huge shower, which was her preferred method of cleansing her body anyway. She, quickly, turned on the cold water tap and smiled when the water began pouring down like a tropical rainstorm opening the floodgates. Having dumped her dirty linen into the hamper, she took a deep breath and took the plunge. She yelled in shock when the extreme cold water came in contact with her body. She jumped around, cursing and swearing, unable to stand still while Goosebumps covered her flesh all over. Too bloody cold, far too bloody cold!

She shivered.

Quickly, she turned off the tap and wrapped a towel around her body. She let out a deep sigh, glad that was over and done with. It wasn’t pleasant, but very effective. She rubbed her back dry, her arms, her front, her legs, between her legs… just a bit longer. It was still wet there. Oh yes, that felt soooo…

Fuck!

Shocked, she halted her movements. It hadn’t helped at all. That horrific cold shower had not alleviated her symptoms one bit. It should have. It really should have. Disgruntled, she tossed the towel in the hamper too. Now what?

Oh well, she was a witch after all. She walked to the luxurious sink and picked up her wand. ‘Aquamenti!’ she cast at the large bathtub behind her, after which she used a Hot-Air Charm to heat up the water to a nice comfortable temperature.

She rummaged through her beaded bag, which she’d placed on the stool in front of the sink, and pulled out a deodorant. It would do. She wasn’t the best at Transfiguration for nothing. Looking at the result of her quick spell-casting, Hermione decided Transfiguration definitely had to be the most useful subject taught at Hogwarts. One cookie for McGonagall.

Feeling incredibly happy she was a witch and therefore didn’t have to suffer the usual consequences other women had to when they lowered their bodies into hot water and then tried to insert something inside, she whipped her wand around, lay back and relaxed, while her toy did its supposed work.

She closed her eyes, resting her head on the rim, and let her hands wander over her aroused body in the warm water. It felt really nice to touch herself, while she got closer and closer to the edge of that wave. Her breathing and pulse increased quickly with every thrust of her magical dildo. She was sooo close, sooo close. Yet it seemed to stay just out of her reach.

It continued to stay just out of her reach.

It didn’t get any closer at all.

No, it only made the wanton feelings worse, much worse.

Finally, she threw her head back and screamed in frustration. She yanked out the dildo and tossed it through the bathroom violently. It still danced on the floor, while she took a deep breath and sank to the bottom of the tub. Her hair floated around her face; she felt like she was weightless, hovering in a zero gravity environment. Hermione blew bubbles of all kinds of sizes with her mouth, until she had no more air left and she resurfaced with a gasp. Tossing her head back and combing her fingers through her wet hair to get it out of her face, she let out a frustrated groan.

Her entire body pulsed with the need to be touched, to be filled. Her lips were swollen, ready to kiss and be kissed. Her hands desired to touch and be touched in return. Her walls clenched and unclenched at nothing – so needy, so empty, and so very unsatisfied. Her body craved sex; it demanded satisfaction. A yearning no stupid toy could fill. Using it had only made her libido increase tremendously.

Hermione leaned forward. Her elbows leaned on her bend knees, while her head rested in her hands. She closed her eyes and tried to focus her mind – focus it away from this urge, this wantonness, this eagerness, this all-consuming lust. Her hands disappeared into her hair, clutching at it harshly. Why couldn’t she focus? What was wrong with her? This. Was. Not. Normal.

Her fingers curled in her hair, pulling at the strands. The small pain cleared her mind slightly and she opened her eyes when the idea struck home. But she had to make it good, otherwise it wouldn’t help. Grabbing her wand from the rim of the tub, she hesitated a moment before she slashed open her arm from shoulder to wrist with a Diffindo. Blood sprayed around and the pain was thoroughly overwhelming. She yelled, while pure survival instinct chased away all other sensations. Hermione gasped, and then, smiled. Biology had done its work – survival before pleasure. It was over.

‘Episkey!’ she cast quickly.

Her arm healed, her mind cleared, and her body stilled, she got out of the tub and made herself ready for the day, feeling mighty pleased and smug about her successful intervention. Nothing stopped Hermione Jean Granger from going about her studies, especially not stupid hormones. ‘HAH!’

Putting her breakfast on her desk, she unrolled her scroll and started making notes on her essay, while nibbling on a salty cracker. Slowly, she licked her lips after finishing it. Her mind fully entranced on finding the right words to explain the correlation between force, speed and mass of a spell, she caressed her neck with the soft feather of her quill.

Merlin, she loved the smell of parchment in the morning.

She fidgeted in her seat. Thirsty, she felt thirsty. Her left hand reached for her tea cup. She held it under her nose and savoured that odour, too, closing her eyes while taking a sip; delicious. The best tea she ever had. It glided past the taste papillae on your tongue as if heaven had come to earth. Hermione moaned.

She’d moved the feather to caress the other side of her neck as she put her cup down. That banana looked mighty tasty. She placed the quill in the inkpot and peeled the banana. Making all kinds of “mmm” noises, she stuck it into her mouth and graced her teeth along the shaft. Sucking it lazily, she scraped off thin slices of the fruit into her mouth, nice and soft as she preferred it. So sweet, so sugary, so absolutely desirable and filling. She closed her eyes and treasured the moment of holding it in her mouth fully, of letting her tongue slide around it, exploring the texture and sweet taste of the banana. Another moan escaped her lips, while she sucked it, until it became a hot fluid in her mouth, ready to be swallowed down into her gastro-intestinal system - yummy.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her neck with her left hand, while picking up her quill with the other. What to write now? Leaning on her elbow, her hand still rubbing her neck, she stared at the parchment. Absentminded, she traced her lips with the quill’s feather. They felt ticklish, and it seemed to spread. The titillating sensation travelled from her head to her toes, making her pulse speed up. Her breaths came out in ragged pants, and her body thrummed once again with a passion so overwhelming it drove her to the edge of insanity. She no longer fidgeted but twisted in her seat, as blood pulsed into her nether regions so forcefully she could count her heartbeats with each throb inside her pubic bone. She groaned and hit her head on her desk repeatedly out of sheer desperation.

Not again.

She was never going to get anything done today, never.

Then … her heart skipped a beat. Her stomach made a little flip-flop. She froze with her forehead against her desk; her hands covered beneath mountains of brown frizz, as she had positioned them next to her head. Her body identified his presence before her mind acknowledged it. She sensed more than saw him place his hands next to hers on the desk. She felt his body towering over her, a long line of unimaginable heat at her back. Hermione closed her eyes as every sensory cell ran into overdrive when his magic engulfed the very essence of her being, throwing away all caution and what little restrained she had left.

‘Slept well, my little Gryffindor?’ he breathed against the exposed back of her neck.

She shivered.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, vibrating against her spine, causing another involuntary shudder to occur. His hands moved against her lower arms, stroking her curls aside to lay them bare before him. His long fingers traced her wrists before folding around them, circling them easily, capturing her. She gasped when the rest of her body came in contact with his. He slid behind her in the chair, wrapping his much taller frame around her. Lord Voldemort lifted her torso up and trapped her in his arms, her legs between his, her magic nothing but a glimmer of light inside his all-consuming cloud of darkness. Resting her head against his chest, she waited; motionless, her muscles tense, her breaths shallow, her eyes closed. All of her was waiting for his command, his direction, his guidance.

She licked her lips, took a deep breath and swallowed. A tremble formed; fear and excitement rushed her, took over her body, her mind, and her soul. What would he do to her? Would it hurt? Would it satisfy this terrible craving? Would she survive it unscathed?

He hugged her tighter.

‘Please,’ she begged, her voice shaking.

He held her quietly. The only response she got was the warmth of his arms, his legs, his body around her.

Her fear spiked. Adrenaline flushed through her veins. Her heart raced. Hot, she felt so hot. Her face was so warm, so sensitive, so tingling; her eyes itched behind her closed eyelids. It drove her mad. Quivering violently, she sat there.

Almost languorously, he bent forward and placed his mouth in the curve of her neck and shoulder to suck her skin tenderly. Letting out a long breath, her body stilled. She tilted her head to the side, granting him better access, and he graced his teeth over her skin, causing a shudder of anticipation to occur. Her limbs twisted inside his strong hold. She tried to struggle, but she couldn’t regain her freedom. She was his captive, his prisoner, his price. She felt it in every fibre of her being. He’d caught her and he wasn’t letting go. He’d never let her go. For some inconspicuous reason, it made her feel safe knowing that. A quiet affirmation came over her; she stopped fighting and relaxed in his arms.

His head turned to face her. ‘You are mine, Hermione,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘You will always be mine.’

She surrendered, nodding her head slightly in confirmation, for she knew it to be true.

He let go of one of her wrists and moved his hand through her hair, patting her softly, until he grabbed onto a handful of curls and pulled her head back roughly. Hermione gasped; her eyes flew open and she stared straight into his crimson gaze. It was blinding. She felt unable to look away, like staring into the sun knowing it was ruining your retinas but still being so fascinated that you stayed watching those bright white flashes contrasting with the dark negative circles which followed.

‘Say it, Hermione,’ he ordered quietly.

She blinked, dazed.

‘I want to hear you say it,’ he repeated more forcefully.

Dark magic swirled around them. It connected with those roots she had inside.

‘I am yours,’ she whispered; her mind a blur, she was trapped in his gaze.

‘Yes, you are,’ he said with a smirk, before he claimed her mouth with his.

His hand kept a firm hold of the back of her head, keeping their mouths pressed together as his tongue demanded access. Controlling every move, his tongue pressed against hers, claiming her attention, ordering her to follow his lead as he breathed her in. She had no choice but to relinquish herself to his actions, to take his guidance wherever he may lead her, to let him taint her with his essence. She was the student, he her teacher. She was his apprentice, he her master. She had to follow his lead, for he was and always would be Lord Voldemort; the self-pronounced greatest wizard of all – a leader and mover of men long before she was ever born. Lord Voldemort led, he did not follow, and he was about to lead her where she had never gone before with another.

Slow and almost tauntingly, his right hand moved down her back, pulling the fabric of her shirt up. His left hand disappeared underneath it, caressing her naked skin, moving to her side and taking a hold of her there. His right hand copied the movement, until he held her waist tightly between his hands. He withdrew from her mouth, unclasped his legs from hers and turned her body a quart in his lap, so she sat sideways in his arms; both her legs stationed at his left side. She breathed heavily; her pupils dilated in anticipation when he traced her skin with his yew wand. A simple flick of his wrist and her clothes were all gone.

Squirming awkwardly in his lap, she lowered her eyes as he took in her fully exposed figure meticulously. He lifted her chin and gazed straight into her embarrassed eyes, while he spoke, ‘You are absolutely gorgeous, Hermione.’

She yelped as he suddenly rose, lifting her in his arms. She clasped her arms around his neck to not fall, and he sniggered, looking down at her. ‘Feeling comfortable enough with me already?’ he teased.

Hermione blushed severely and tried to gain some distance by letting go of his neck; but he pressed her body back against his with a devious grin. ‘That’s better,’ he claimed. ‘I’d hate to think I was losing my evil dark lord touch.’

She just gaped at him.

He made her yelp in surprise when he simply threw her on the bed. Smirking, he crawled on it. His movements were oddly graceful, for you’d expect a crawling adult male to look ridiculous; but his every gesture seemed to acknowledge the tremendous force that lingered inside of him. And all that power slowly moved toward her, claiming her.

Her heart in her throat, Hermione scattered to the headboard on her behind, until she could go no farther. She pulled her knees to her chest. He halted on his knees in front of her. She jerked when his hands slammed into the headboard on either side of her head. His snakelike face came within inches of hers, as he angled his upper body forward.

‘Are these features repulsive to you?’ he asked softly.

Hermione blinked, surprised again.

He tilted his head, waiting for a reply.

‘N-no,’ she stuttered.

The condescending look he gave her was telling.

She shook her head more firmly in denial, making her hair fly around.

Voldemort ignored her and said, ‘I know I used to be more appealing to the female persuasion. However, I can assure you this face is the major difference from the first time you’ve been with me; other … things have not been so affected.’

‘I don’t mind your looks. Sure, it takes some getting used to,’ Hermione admitted. ‘But I’ve been here for quite a while now, so…’ she shrugged.

He stroked the side of her face. ‘Then, why are you covering yourself up right now?’

‘I am scared.’

‘You’ve been with me before.’

‘Perhaps that’s why I am scared.’

He grinned. ‘Touché,’ he acknowledged. He patted on her knees. ‘Spread them,’ he ordered.

He saw the reluctance and fear in her gestures as she slowly complied, avoiding his eyes. ‘It won’t be as painful as the first time,’ he explained reassuring. ‘You already gave yourself to me, so I won’t need to be quite as … rough.’

Hermione looked up, frowning.

‘Oh yes, my dear. What happened in that nightmare was very real; surely, you felt it inside when you woke?’

‘You broke every bone in my body. I was sick as hell from all the Nightmare-Diluting Potion they gave me, and you expect me to remember feeling that,’ she replied sarcastically.

A smug grin appeared on his face. ‘I am glad I made a lasting impression on you, Hermione,’ he said, moving between her legs. ‘Disrobe me.’

Her hands trembled slightly as she unbuttoned his robe and moved forward to lift it over his shoulders and head. He helped her when necessary, but mostly he just watched her face while she touched him carefully. Her hands were incredibly soft. She hesitated when she’d arrived at his underwear. ‘Tear away,’ he suggested, smirking.

Hermione blushed. He thought she looked extremely cute in that colour. He’d have to make sure to see it again.

His boxers ended up in torn rags on the floor. Not too shy after all.

But his smirk expended most when he noticed her eyes were studiously looking at his other wand, the one attached to the base of his arm. His ego, which didn’t need any more inflating at all, grew when he came to the conclusion she’d felt less intimidated to watch it than his cock. Considering he did far more damage to others with his yew wand, it definitely made him happy in the whole male lets-be-overly-sensitive-and-obsessive-about-the-size-of-our-equipment department. Not that he worried about that, don’t be foolish. He knew he was the biggest of all. Anyone who dared to claim otherwise would soon find out the wonderful joys of having a Permanent Shrinking Charm cast on their appendages. And when he said permanent, he meant permanent.

‘How do you get it to stay attached to your arm like that?’ Hermione inquired curiously, lifting his arm to get a good look at his wand from all sides.

The vicious pin she’d stuck into his happy bubble of important self-grandeur made him scowl.

Silently, he withdrew his arm from her hands, gazing at her intently. ‘Not the wand I want your attention to be on, right now,’ he said in a quiet commanding tone, holding her face gently in the palm of his hand.

Her eyes darted down and her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson than before. He leaned forward, tilted her face slightly and kissed her long and deep again. It felt like he was trying to pull her into him. The gravitational force accompanying his kisses was irresistible. Her hands moved to him, but she withdrew them hesitantly before she touched him, not sure he would welcome the initiative.

Still kissing her, his other hand came to rest on her shoulder. Slowly, his fingers massaged her muscles there, until he moved both hands along the line of her arms to her wrists. He lifted her arms and placed her hands on top of his shoulders, moving them down over his chest, across his nipples, crossing his stomach, the little wrinkles of the skin in his belly, until he reached the place he most wanted her to touch and hold. Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss, since he wanted to see her expression while she held him. He guided her soft hands over his hardened flesh, watching the string of thoughts and emotions fly by over her face.

He let go of her hands and took a hold of her face again, though with both hands this time. ‘Such an immaculate purity you have; a virtuous openness, which is as unspoilt and undefiled as it is tasty. It will be my pleasure to devour you, Hermione.’

He sealed his words with another kiss. His hands moved down; long fingers traced every inch of her skin, touching her neckline, the hollow of her throat, over her collarbones, her breasts, her nipples, to her stomach, the curves of her belly, investigating her belly button, ending at her hips. His fingers dug deep into her flesh and she let out a gasp when he lifted her and pulled her down to a lying position. She’d squeezed him slightly and he shuddered.

Against his better judgement, for he really liked the feel of her holding him, he moved her hands above her head. He would have plenty of time to have her make him happy at another occasion; right now, he had someone to draw in, to make her his, to make her want him more than anything else in life ever again. When she went to the Weasleys two days from now, she had to know what she was missing every second of every hour of every single day.

Quickly moving on top of her, he grinned when she closed her eyes to the wonderment of having his naked body touch hers without any boundaries. ‘And devour you, I will,’ he added naughtily, right before his mouth, tongue and hands began exploring every part of her.

Pretty soon, she thrashed violently underneath him. Her arms tossed all the pillows to the ground, trying to find something to hold onto and failing miserably. ‘How are you doing, dear?’ he taunted, looking up from her breast at her deliciously distraught expression. He caught her eyes and sucked her nipple again. She threw her head back and yelled, ripping the sheet underneath her to shreds.

His laugh rolled around her, sucked her under even further, until she felt she would never resurface again. ‘Incarcerous,’ she heard him whisper against her skin.

A pair of ropes flew around her wrists, spreading her arms wide, as they flung around the bedposts and tied her to it. Finally, something to hold onto.

Her fingers clutched around the thick cord desperately; grabbing a firm hold of it, as if it would make the immense pleasure she was experiencing more tolerable. Unable to stay still during his teasing caresses, the meticulous concentration he exhibited to make sure no part of her remained unattended, she continued to buck and thrash around for as far as he allowed her to. He’d use his body weight or magic to hold those parts of her motionless he was stimulating, and it drove her up the wall.

He pointed his wand casually over his shoulder and her legs became tied up in a similar method as her arms were. Her hip-joints stretched in a painful extension; his hands leaned heavily on the ridge of the hipbones on either side; so, she whimpered softly. Until his mouth started working lower and lower and lower, and those whimpers became desperate yells of resignation. With his lips and tongue, he brought her again and again and again, until she felt her head was going to explode and she could take no more.

Yet, after every single climax he gave her, she felt her body turn wanton again – it was like nothing could satisfy it at all when Lord Voldemort turned up the heat again. She writhed within the restrictions of her bounds. Her heart raced for as fast as it could, trying to keep up with the body’s need of transporting oxygen and carbon dioxide around, while her arousal reached new unimaginable heights.

‘Please, please, please, please,’ she begged.

He sucked that sensitive spot thoroughly and looked up. ‘Please?’ he asked, tilting his head in fake thoughtfulness as if he was truly considering the request.

Hermione groaned hopelessly upon seeing the expression on his face.

‘Now, now, my dear,’ he said admonishingly. ‘Be a bit more precise with your requests, will you? Please doesn’t tell me a thing.’

He grinned, and continued licking and sucking her wickedly.

‘Oh fuck!’ she cursed, arching her back in a tense bow.

‘Is that what you want?’ he breathed against her pink flesh, making her shudder, while her walls clenched and unclenched at that aching nothingness again.

‘Oh for Salazar’s sake, yes! YES!’ she yelled.

‘Ermmm, interesting choice of Founder to call upon. You wouldn’t be trying to … manipulate Lord Voldemort into doing what you want, now would you, Hermione?’ He said, placing a finger against his lips, while watching the ceiling thoughtfully. ‘Answer me,’ he added, looking at her threateningly, before he continued tormenting her.

A stream of not so eloquent words left her lips.

‘Why, I don’t feel very inclined to honour such impolite and rude language with a reward,’ he remarked casually.

Hermione slumped back on the bed, defeated. She couldn’t take anymore. She was exhausted. It was too much, too much pleasure, too much delight, too much ecstasy. She needed a release, a climax, a whatever. She needed this to end. Merlin, he was trying to kill her through sex. Didn’t the man know she wasn’t an athlete?

‘What?’ Voldemort teased, coming into view above her face. ‘You didn’t waste your time racing around on some silly stick chasing after some moronic ball to entertain idiotic others by getting your skull battered in by yet another insane invention called a Bludger? I am duly disappointed,’ he added ironically, rolling on his side next to her; her arm was underneath his armpit, while he leaned his elbow in the mattress and rested his head on his hand.

Hermione sighed. She wasn’t dignifying that with a reply; chances were high he’d use it as an excuse to continue. He was having far too much fun. See, there, that blasted smirk was proof enough to the correctness of her statement.

‘Tsk, tsk, tsk,’ he clicked disapprovingly with his tongue, while stroking her stomach with the hand not supporting his head. ‘If I need any excuse to continue, not that I need one, but purely hypothetical speaking, I’d use your lacking Occlumency skills right now.’

Oh you got to be kidding me.

He sniggered. ‘Perhaps I have finally found something to motivate you into trying harder?’

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth on hers, kissing her thoroughly, while his hand traced her breast, her side, her hip, the outskirt of her thigh, the inside of her thigh; going up, his fingers moved between her folds. Her body made an involuntary twist, while Hermione moaned against his lips. Her legs jerked as his finger found that spot again. Her desperate little whimper vibrated into his mouth. He raised his head slightly, looking down into her deep brown eyes.

‘Please,’ Hermione whispered. ‘No more, please. Just fuck me, please.’

Silently, he watched her. She really was clever. Somehow, be it instinctive or deductive, she’d come to the rightful conclusion true intercourse was the only way to get rid of her condition. She was about to add another please when he placed his finger on her mouth. This vulnerability was what he’d been waiting for. Her path was waiting for her, but yet she failed to notice it and come to a decision. He wasn’t going to allow her to beat around the bush anymore. Her rightful place was what he needed her to acknowledge before she left; before Albus Dumbledore had a chance to get his thoughts about everything inside her head and ruin her destiny.

‘Tell me the truth, Hermione,’ he demanded.

She frowned. What truth?

‘Why are you really here?’

Her frown deepened. What was he getting at? She was here, because the Keepers of the World’s Craziest and Most Dimwittedly Ideas thought it was a sane choice to make her an apprentice to him.

‘Why me?’

Okay, he lost her. She didn’t understand the first thing of this line of questioning.

‘Yes, you do. I’ve seen your memories; you’ve had plenty of opportunities to lose your virginity to another, yet you picked me.’ He tilted his head, amused severely by this.

‘I was dying,’ she said, exasperated.

‘If you don’t want to be honest with me, I can understand that; but to lie to yourself is pretty stupid, Hermione. It won’t ever get you where you want to be.’ He rolled to the edge of the bed and rose, knowing perfectly well what the absence of his magic would do to her.

‘Eh! Where are you going!?’ she yelled, wide-eyed. For crying out loud, like there wasn’t some unfinished business to attend to right here on this bed, as in Her unfinished business.

‘My time is too precious to waste on stupidity,’ he replied haughtily, swishing his wand around. His robes flew back over his head and he turned away.

She gaped. He couldn’t leave her like this, could he? She narrowed her eyes. That-that would be … evil. Yeah, really evil.

Duh, Lord Voldemort, Granger.

Crap! If only she knew what he wanted to hear. Think, Granger, think. ‘It isn’t like I am really lying to myself,’ she grumbled underneath her breath.

Abruptly, he swirled toward her, halting with his hands on either side of her face, towering over her. She pressed her body back into the mattress in shock. ‘Viktor Krum,’ he whispered against her lips, staring straight into her eyes.

She froze.

Disbelievingly, she stared back. Oh no, he couldn’t have seen that, could he? She was sure she hadn’t thought of that during any of their sessions the last days. She’d kicked him out just on time with her Shield Charm. She’d kicked him out. The pounding of her heart increased significantly. His facial expression turned more and more condescending by the second, increasing her worries that he had, somehow, seen what she hadn’t wanted anyone to ever see. His smirk grew, and those damn red slit-pupil eyes were definitely sparkling at her expense. She just knew his mind was making fun of her. He was very, very lucky she was tied up right now, otherwise he’d find out what it felt like to get hit right on top of your non-existing nose.

‘Why me, Hermione?’ he repeated softly. ‘What was wrong with … Vicky?’ he smirked.

She didn’t see that his hand in the mattress held his wand now, nor did she notice the non-verbally cast Stage Three Legilimency spell, which impacted on her mind forcefully. All she saw was red, and then, the world swirled and she was fifteen, running through Hogwarts joyfully.

Giggling, she pulled Viktor along the corridors at Hogwarts.

‘Herm-one-ieie, Herm-own-ninny, where are we going?’ Krum asked, confused.

‘Nearly there,’ she said, looking back over her shoulder, exited.

She whipped her wand at the painting and a passageway opened, leading into a long abandoned corridor. Really, if she had to wait for Ron to be able to identify her as a girl, she’d be dead and buried before she got anywhere. She was done waiting around for him to pull his thick head out of his stupid arse and see what was right in front of him – picking one of the Patils over her. Merlin, she’d never been more pissed than when she heard whom he was taking to the Yule Ball. No matter if she’d said yes to Viktor Krum long before that information became a reality.

Well, she was young; she had needs, too. She’d said no to Fred’s secretly put invites quite enough times to earn her a fucking shining gold fidelity medal. She was going to take to heart her own advice from now on - the advice she gave Ginny about changing her behaviour around Harry, so he would stop seeing her as Ron’s little, shy, and somewhat silly sister. Yes, Hermione was going to do something similar to that. If Ron didn’t see her, she wasn’t noticing him or feeling obliged to him anymore either. Hermione pushed Viktor up against the wall and kissed him, while the passageway closed.

‘Mi-ommmee,’ he mumbled, unable to get a word in.

She pulled away from his surprised lips. ‘Let’s do it,’ she suggested, twirling around recklessly.

‘Here?’ Viktor asked, glancing around doubtfully.

‘Sure, why not?’ she asked, putting her hands in her sides bossily.

‘What if someone else comes along?’

‘Then, they need to find another spot to make out,’ she giggled. ‘This one is taken.’

‘Oh, er – okay,’ Viktor said hesitantly. He began fiddling on his tie, while Hermione kicked of her shoes. ‘I-I, erm…’

Seeing his clumsy attempts to undo his tie, Hermione whipped out her wand. ‘Relashio!’

Sparks burst from her wand; Viktor’s tie fell from his startled hands onto the ground. ‘Oh,’ he uttered again, baffled.

She tossed her wand away with a flourish and walked to him. ‘I need some help, too,’ she said, turning around.

She felt his hands take a hold of her dress and fidget with the zipper. After a while, Hermione’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. Merlin’s pants, it was just a zipper; leave it up to a wizard not to know how to operate one. Boys.

‘It seems to be stuck,’ Viktor said apologetically. ‘Is it okay if I use magic?’

Hermione groaned. Is it okay? Please, grow a pair and act. ‘Sure,’ she replied impatiently.

‘Really?’ Viktor repeated.

For goodness’s sake, she’d said yes already. ‘Yes, really,’ she replied; this time she was unable to leave all traces of sarcasm completely out of the tone of her voice.

She felt the movement of her dress as the zipper opened upon the impact of Viktor’s charm. At last the stupid wizard was done with the incomprehensible task of undoing a zipper. She turned around to look at him. His hands wavered back and forth. He obviously wanted to touch her, but wasn’t sure it was okay. Hermione sighed. Merlin, wasn’t he supposed to be off age already?

She pulled the dress over her head and tossed it next to her wand and shoes. Perhaps that would make him realise she was serious. Viktor gawked at her. His eyes seemed to fixate on her bra, or more likely, on what was in there. Okay, enough with the gawking, start doing something. Geezzz, did she really have to make ALL the moves?

She stepped toward him when he suddenly spoke. ‘Are you sure you want to do this, Hair-mee-owney, I-I-I,’ he stuttered. ‘I know I am older and I don’t want you to feel pressured and my mother always said I shouldn’t abuse my Quidditch popularity to get girls, but I really like you and I want you, but I don’t want to hurt you and make you feel taken advantage off in any way, so if-’

‘Oh forget it,’ she snarled. Turned off completely by his idiotic babbling and lack of initiative, she swirled around abruptly.

‘Herm-oiw-ee?’ Viktor questioned, stunned at the sudden change in mood.

She grabbed her dress and wand, while stepping into her shoes. With a flick, she was presentable again. Another flick and the secret door opened, she paced away without another word and without looking back.

‘Hermy-own, Hermy-own!’ she heard him shout behind her. His hand fell on her arm and he turned her around. ‘Was it something I said? Did I hurt your feelings?’

Quietly, she looked at the hand on her arm.

‘Oh, sorry,’ he said, retracting his hand immediately. ‘I didn’t mean to manhandle you like that.’

‘Manhandle?’ she said snorting. He thought grabbing her arm was manhandling? Oh boy, did she pick the wrong wizard tonight. Fred would have been the better choice after all.

‘Yes, I am sorry; you’re not supposed to use force on another. I never treat women like that,’ Viktor said certain.

Great, everyone’s knight in shining armour; was there a bucket lying around somewhere? She felt the need to vomit.

Hermione stepped toward him, invading his space, while she looked up condescendingly. ‘What if the woman in question liked a bit more force?’

Viktor gaped at her. ‘No, no,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No woman wants to be treated like that.’

Really, she thought an international Quidditch Champion would have had more experience and certainly a more open-minded view on the world.

‘Oh, so now you’re saying I am not a woman,’ Hermione snarled. Eh, if she wasn’t getting any, there were always other ways to have some fun. Many years she’d watched her mother operate this technique to perfection during discussions with her father; Hermione found it was relatively easy to copy.

‘No, that’s not what I meant,’ Viktor replied desperately, trying to make it alright. ‘I-I’

‘Then, what did you mean?’ she asked viciously, putting her hands in her sides. ‘Cause it sure sounded like you were implying I am not.’

Viktor’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

‘Well? I am waiting,’ she taunted.

‘I apologise, I shouldn’t have asked you out. I knew it was wrong, because I am so much older; but I really, really like you, Hermione. I am so sorry.’

‘Me too,’ she snapped. Turning on her heels and leaving him standing there alone, she moved around the corner. What a complete and utter waste of her time, even if he finally did pronounce her name correctly.

‘What’s put that sour look on your face, Granger, wasn’t Krum a true gentleman?’ Draco sneered tauntingly.

Hanging on Draco’s arm, Pansy giggled loudly. Some of the others snorted or giggled slightly less telling. Hermione passed the posse of Slytherins quickly. It wasn’t good to be near so many tempting targets when she felt as aggravated as she did right now.

‘Did he grab a feel?’ Draco added smirking.

She halted abruptly and turned her head to face him. His grey eyes darted nervously to her wand-hand, and he suddenly wasn’t as vocal as before.

‘I’d watch my nose if I were you, ferret; someone might break it again when you least expect it,’ Hermione spat, moving to the staircase quickly before she wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. She was certain Professor Snape would appear out of thin air if she hexed his precious students into oblivion.

‘Eh Viktor! Why don’t you come with us, so you can have some real fun?’ Draco said loudly.

It was clearly meant more for her ears as Viktor’s. And let’s face it, she’d earned Gryffindor enough points over the years; no one could nag to her about losing them a bunch tonight. She pulled out her wand, turned, and, of course…

‘Miss Granger,’ a disgustingly familiar silky voice spoke smoothly. ‘Why is your wand in your hand?’

She sighed, wondering whether she could hex Malfoy before Snape had a chance to act – probably not. Merlin, why did the only one around here who might have some balls happen to be the one person oblivious to hair care hygiene? He taught Potions for crying out loud.

She blinked, coming out of the memory shaking and feverishly. The good news was it had completely pushed aside her raging hormones and her desire to have intercourse. The bad news was she felt like shit now. A pair of red eyes watched her intensely, while his body hovered above her. It didn’t spark any of the debilitating emotions back into action again. Thank Merlin.

‘So, can you acknowledge the real reason behind being here with me now?’ Voldemort asked quietly.

‘You have no right to snoop around my mind like that,’ Hermione hissed angrily.

He smirked. ‘Whether I have the right to or not really is irrelevant, I can therefore I will. If it bothers you, I suggest you learn to occlude me fully, because Hermione,’ he promised to her lips, darkly, ‘I won’t stop – no matter how hard you may beg me to.’

His domineering threats stirred her stomach into another flutter. An intense kiss followed. It was nice, well, pretty darn amazing; but it didn’t make her want to rip off his robe to let him have his wicked ways with her. Thank Merlin indeed, for it seemed her hormones had returned back to normal levels. She could think again. Of course being able to think again, meant she immediately was aware of the vulnerable (naked and tied up) position she was in. Her face as well as several other parts of her anatomy turned red in embarrassment, but Voldemort either didn’t notice or didn’t feel the need to comment on it, for he continued inquiring about the motives behind her actions.

‘So, answer my question, Hermione. Admit the truth to yourself why you slept with me in that nightmare, because we both know fear of death was not the only thing that motivated you. Tell me why you turned down Krum and all the others who ever tried to get close to you, and I will make it worth your while.’

She bit her lip, flinching under that intense gaze. She looked down. She couldn’t say it out loud. If she said it, it would mean it was true. If she didn’t say it, at least she could deny it. Because it wasn’t true, she didn’t… she didn’t want to have sex with Tom Marvolo Riddle. She only did it to stay alive. That was all, nothing else. Turning down Krum, because he was such an incredible wimp, had nothing to do with her nightmare – nothing at all. They were two totally unrelated incidents.

His hand stroked through her hair. She didn’t look up.

He sighed. ‘The only one you hurt by denying the very nature of what you are is you, Hermione.’

God, was she really that pathetic? When had she become such a chicken shit that she couldn’t admit the truth to herself?

‘He-he was a wuss,’ Hermione whispered hoarsely.

‘Yes, I noticed,’ Voldemort said calmly.

‘I had to leave; otherwise I would have hexed him.’

‘Well, after all that despicable nagging…,’ he shrugged, ‘you’d have been entitled.’

‘It’s not his fault he is not-not-’

‘-dominant enough for you,’ Voldemort finished for her, but he didn’t stop there. ‘Nor was he charming, intelligent, all-powerful, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, not to mention he didn’t have an-’

‘-overly bloated ego,’ Hermione added, glaring.

‘Ah, I knew you’d confirm I am the one you really want,’ he said, unruffled.

Hermione groaned. Did he have to twist every word she said to his advantage?

‘Think about it, dear,’ he breathed against her neck.

A shiver ran down her spine. His tongue tracked the line of her neck to the hollow of her throat. He added teeth when he moved up on the other way side, tracing her carotid artery, causing her to be very aware of her current defencelessness. Her heart began pounding in her chest, pushing her blood around faster and faster, making her even more at risk if he were to bite down.

‘I am your little masochistic dream come true,’ he said against her skin in a low voice. He nibbled gently on her earlobe. It tickled, making her jerk in her bounds. ‘You know this.’ He bit down abruptly. She gasped, shocked, not so much from the sudden onset of a little bit of pain, but what it did to her. The excitement it caused her to feel. ‘It’s why you allowed yourself to sleep with your enemy in your dream and enjoy it.’ He sucked the wound he made, making her writhe more. ‘But you can take it further.’ A need rose inside; a need even more overwhelming than before, as if it had waited and been denied for so long it had accumulated all previous refusals to gain satisfaction into one huge throbbing demanding ache that would not abandon her unfulfilled again. ‘You don’t need to keep dreaming; I am right here.’ His wand made a small move and his clothes were gone again. Hermione closed her eyes. She wanted him inside of her; she’d never desired anything more in her life. It felt like she would die if this-this longing wasn’t consummated. ‘You’ll never find someone more controlling or domineering than me,’ he whispered to her lips.

Truer words had never been spoken.

He put more pressure on her hips with his when he lifted his chest, leaning solely on one hand and the lower part of his body. He held her down, while the hand he wasn’t using for support began running small circles over her skin. ‘You’ll never find someone more powerful,’ he added, massaging her breast. ‘Someone capable of giving you exactly what you need.’ Roughly, he pinched her nipple. She let out a scream; her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her back arched as far as it could. ‘With your capabilities, Hermione, I’d say you’d be hard pressed to find another to fulfil your desires completely once you have grown into your magic,’ he said, watching her face intensely. Panting heavily, she stared back into those crimson eyes. She knew he was right, but he was her enemy. He was her friends’ enemy. This would change everything. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, she shouldn’t…

He kissed her, harshly, demanding her full attention and complete surrender. It was too much. His words to her ears, her raging hormones heightened due to his touches, her body’s violent reactions to his dark magic, the gravitational pull it had on her magic, she felt it growing around her, consuming her, drawing her more and more to him. It should frighten her, but it didn’t. There was no light without darkness; one did not exclude the other; both paths remained available. For some reason, she knew this. For some reason, she had always known this day would come. For some reason, she handed her life, her destiny, her future in Lord Voldemort’s hands and she let go of every inch of control she’d held onto.

His kiss… Merlin, his kiss… It became their kiss when she moaned, and she returned his attention with the heartfelt passion only a long suppressed yearning could grant. She could feel his magic swirling down inside of her, connecting with that dark bit she’d always known was in her. It had never worried her like Harry kept on worrying about his. Somehow, she knew it belonged to her. It was who she was. It was home.

The triumph he felt, when she simply allowed his invasive attack instead of resisting it, thrummed against her skin; but there were only so many things she could consider simultaneously. His triumph wasn’t one of them; it wasn’t even listed in her top ten. Right now all she wanted were his lips on her mouth, his hands on her body, and all of him inside of her, pushing her over that antagonising cliff and into that dark abyss she had to explore.

Lord Voldemort complied with her wishes.

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The Apprentice