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The Prisoner	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 63563 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s note: I want to thank everyone who read, rated, alerted, faved, and reviewed. My apologies for the long wait. Anonymous review replies to Prisoner can be found on the AFF.org forum (see previous chapters for link).

Special thanks to my betas: Serpent-In-Red and Cosettex (who were kindly still available despite the long wait for this chapter).

xxx
The Prisoner
Chapter 16: Trust Issues
Uncharacteristically quiet, the two individuals stood just out of each other’s reach, their eyes locked. Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest. Fully aware that Tom knew of her deception and not knowing what to say, she’d hung her coat on the hanger as she’d entered his cell, waiting for him to open his mouth so she could react to whatever nonsense he’d sprout out this time. She had nearly squeaked when she’d turned around and he was right there in front of her. Not having heard him move towards her at all, she mentally cursed his stealthy abilities, which she knew didn’t help, but it felt good to do nevertheless.
And now, they just stood there.
It was not what she’d expected. He always had something to say about everything—sometimes she’d felt like rolling her eyes, pulling her hair out and screaming in frustration whenever he postulated his stupid opinions. But this silence was also grating on her nerves; it was actually even more irritating than listening to his usual blabbering. Hermione didn’t want to be the one to start talking today. Whoever started lost. If he dared to complain or make accusations about her alleged treachery, she’d fillet him with all the arguments she’d previously constructed. This time, Hermione had chosen to be on the offensive.
Her eyes flickered over his face. Though his expression was as blank as it could be, there was a searing heat in his dark eyes that made her swallow reflexively. Why she suddenly had the urge to close the gap between them, press her body against his, forget about their differences and snog him senseless was beyond her. Tensing her whole body to avoid doing so, and thus losing, she closed her hands into fists and dug her nails into the palms of her hands to clear her head.
She wasn’t moving.
By Godric, this was hard. Why wasn’t he acting? Was she the only one having problems? If so, she’d lost before they’d even started talking. Concerned, Hermione took in his stance, his posture. He seemed relaxed—seemed being the key word. Triumph flowed through her when she realised she wasn’t the only one having problems in restraining themselves. Her mouth curved without her conscious will and her eyes sparked as she raised her face to meet his eyes again. She knew it wasn’t rational, couldn’t back it up with logical arguments, but she had already won this one. He was always so in control of himself, far more than her, but not now. She could sense it in the air, feel it. She’d won it before entering. She’d beaten Lord Voldemort.
Again.
It was a heady feeling; it relaxed her muscles and made her want to do a little victory dance.
Until she saw that obnoxious smirk make an award-winning entrance.
‘What!?’ she said, alarmed. What did I miss?
‘You are very entertaining, wife,’ Tom replied, closing the gap between them. His fingers stroked her cheek before disappearing into her hair, cupping the back of her head and leaning in for a kiss. ‘Much more entertaining than any of those dolts I’ve dealt with before.’
‘Excuse me,’ she snapped, putting both hands on his chest and pushing him away forcefully right before his lips touched hers.
He staggered backwards, just keeping his balance.

‘You didn’t just say that. You—you—I—’ Arching backwards with her hands resting on her lower back, Hermione took a very deep breath to calm herself. When she finally exhaled and witnessed his slightly tilted head, that knowing smile combined with that spark in his dark eyes, and his overall demeanour, her attempt to calm herself went out the window and she pounded onwards. ‘How dare you! How dare you compare me to those morons you surrounded yourself with.’ She pricked him in his chest with her index finger furiously. ‘I’m not some idiotic, mindless puppet you can use and toss away afterwards. Did you really think I didn’t suspect a thing, that I wasn’t aware my Unspeakable status somehow suits your needs, that you could just manipulate me into doing whatever suits your plans? How foolish do you think I am?’ She planted her hands on her sides and tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with fury and her lips shut tight. ‘Well,’ she snarled after a while when there was no reply, ‘aren’t you going to “enlighten” me?’
‘I’m sorry.’
Hermione’s jaw dropped, and she just stared at him.
‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ Tom said smoothly. ‘I never—’
‘Oh please, spare me your bull. We both know you’ve got something planned. You always do. So spill.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Yes,’ Hermione said before he could open his mouth, ‘I want to know and I want to know it now. Why do you need me to remain in my job?’ She held up her hand when he clearly wanted to speak. ‘Think very carefully about what you say next, Voldemort. Despite that he tried to hide it, I saw Jensen’s limp when he came to tell me that Rooney had fully reinstated me to my position. I’m pretty sure she didn’t give him that limp, so he had to have got that while visiting you. What did you do? Stab him with a pen when he told you that I’d never planned to resign?’
‘Yes,’ Tom said bluntly. ‘Right in his upper thigh. Very satisfying, I say. You should try it. Great stress reliever.’
Hermione growled, looking around the cell fast and spotting the necessary item. ‘Maybe I will? As in right now.’ She paced towards the table, only to be stopped by the hand on her upper arm. Her eyes flickered between his hand and his face, nonverbally warning him to let go, but he didn’t.
‘What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry I stabbed him? I’m not. He should’ve known you were playing him.’
‘You, in all your amazing intelligence, didn’t realise it. So why should he?’ Hermione jerked her arm, but Riddle’s grip was airtight. ‘Let go of me.’
‘Not if you’re going for that pen,’ he replied dryly. ‘I’ve got a pretty good idea where you plan to stick it.’ He used his free hand to cover his crotch. ‘It’s not a big target but recalling your excellent aim: Ouch.’
Flabbergasted, Hermione looked at him, her mouth slightly ajar. Did he just make a joke? At his own expense!? Her lip quivered. She wasn’t going to laugh. No, this wasn’t funny.
‘Besides, you need to think it over, darling; that’s not a part of my anatomy you want to lose,’ he added, winking suggestively.
Hermione snorted, dropping her head in her hand. Her shoulders shook from her attempts at restraining her laughter, and she felt him pull her into his embrace.

‘You’re impossible,’ she muttered, resting her head against his chest.
‘So you keep saying,’ he replied gently. ‘Yet, between the both of us, I daresay my objectives are far clearer than yours, Hermione.’
‘If they’re so clear, why won’t you just say what they are? Why all the big secrets?’
‘Because I was under the impression you weren’t ready to accept it.’

Hermione lifted her chin, glaring at him.

‘Now, don’t give me that look. You know I’m right. You wanted to come here, live out your little fantasies and then return to “reality” as if nothing happened, as if I don’t matter.’

She bit her lip, looking down guiltily.

‘You accuse me of exactly that what you’re doing yourself, and I tire of it, Hermione.’
‘I—’
He silenced her with his finger on her mouth. ‘You think you don’t matter to me when I’ve shown you time and time again that you do matter. I married you. I’ve taught you things I’ve never shown another. I’ve been patient and lenient with you. I’ve allowed you your little escapism because I know this situation is hard for you, but there is an end to my patience, Hermione. And your constant accusations are petty and childish.’
‘Petty and childish?’ Hermione huffed. ‘Don’t stand there as if you’re innocent in all this. I know you, Tom Riddle. I know how you manipulate people into doing what you want them to do. You love playing these type of games. All these things you just mentioned, all these things you’ve done “for me”, we both know there is an angle. There is a reason you picked me instead of Moore, a reason why you sent me to Moirae, a reason why you’re so desperate for me to keep that job―you think you can get me to help you somehow. Well, I won’t. If you think it’ll help you get out of here, think again. I won’t help you escape. Ever. So why don’t you just say it? Let’s get these silly games behind us once and for all and put our cards on the table. You say you tire of it. Well, so do I. Just tell me the truth.’
‘And which truth would you like to hear, Hermione?’ he retorted softly. ‘The one you can feel comfortable with, the one that establishes your moral superiority, or the one you try so desperately to hide from yourself?’
He’d not said it spitefully, hatefully or in an attacking manner. If only he had, that would’ve made it so much easier to respond, to put aside those words that sliced through her very being with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, and attack him similarly. However, he’d been gentle, almost careful, and the scrutinising way he now regarded her made her swallow as she felt more exposed than ever before.

Hermione looked away, avoiding eye contact. She suddenly didn’t want to hear what he had to say about her; she didn’t want to hear the opinion of someone with such impeccable observational skills and have all her flaws laid out before her. She bloody well knew she wasn’t perfect, and she’d always felt constrained by that saint-like picture some had constructed about her after the war. They’d put her so high upon a pedestal that all she could do in the end was plummet to her death. She could never measure up to expectations of perfection—no matter how hard she tried. Something she always had. As a Muggle-born witch, she had always felt that she had to be the best and couldn’t afford to err. Everything she’d ever done and did in the wizarding world had to be perfect to show them she was worthy of being there, to show them she was as much of a witch as, if not more than, those born into it.

She’d had so many vivid nightmares of failing and being laughed at, nightmares that hadn’t disappeared over the years but had grown worse and worse with every accomplishment she achieved. Every time she succeeded and was applauded for it, there was this little, vicious voice in her mind saying how much those people would enjoy it if she failed next time, how much they were looking forward to that moment, that moment when she’d prove once and for all that she was faulty. That she was human.
She recalled the lengthy article in the Daily Prophet about how she’d withstood Bellatrix Lestrange’s Cruciatus Curse and had lied to her. They’d made her out to be the stuff of legends. The girl who’d done what others had failed at. In Hermione’s mind, it had been a complete lie, the article a myth. She’d not withstood that curse. She’d screamed; she’d clawed at herself and the floor; she’d thrashed and writhed; she’d wanted the pain to stop at whatever cost. Yet, she knew the truth wouldn’t stop Lestrange. So, yes, she’d lied, but not out of some kind of heroism, but because she’d had no other choice. Hermione had seen it in the woman’s eyes. Lestrange was crazy and had been completely beyond herself. Hermione knew she was mad enough to continue cursing her if she’d heard the truth. The haunting visual of the state Neville’s parents were in was etched into her mind forever. Lying had been the only way to keep her sanity intact. That curse had been one of the most horrific experiences ever, and that article had made it out to seem as if it had been a breeze in the park for her, as if everything she’d done while under it had been a deliberate choice by her, as if she was that strong …
Hermione shivered, feeling Tom’s arms tighten around her.
‘I’m not perfect,’ she whispered, her eyes watering.
‘You don’t have to be.’

That affirmation made her fingers dig into his shirt, clutching to him for all she was worth. She couldn’t describe the relief his words made her feel.
‘I’m perfect enough for the both of us.’
Practically choking on her own saliva, Hermione coughed several times before her laughter broke through to the surface. She looked up; his handsome face had one arched eyebrow as if daring her to contradict his statement while the rest of his expression was filled with smug amusement.
‘Oh you,’ she said, slapping his chest, ‘what am I going to do with you?’
Immediately, a dark mischievousness came over him.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she took a step back. ‘Er … I—I—’ she stuttered, suddenly at a loss for words.
‘I think the correct sentence would be: “What am I going to do with you?”,’ he taunted, taking a step towards her.
Hermione quickly remedied that situation by taking another step back. ‘I …’ she growled in annoyance over her telling lack of vocabulary.
‘I,’ Tom emphasised, ‘am going to get some items from your coat now.’
Hermione blushed, but when he seemed to put his money where his mouth was and moved towards her coat, alarm took over. He’d see she’d left things out and … oh Merlin! She rushed over there and blocked him with her body.

‘We have an agreement,’ she said firmly.
‘Yes, and your failure to show up yesterday broke it.’
‘That wasn’t my fault!’
He shrugged. ‘I never said it was. By the way, since you fixed it so adequately and expediently, I’ll go easy on you. Now move, or I may change my mind about the latter.’ He smirked at her deviously.
‘I didn’t bring everything you had me buy.’
Tom frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s …’ She gestured at him with her hand. ‘... your wounds …’
‘Ah,’ he replied knowingly. ‘You’re scared.’
The malicious joy that briefly flashed over his face didn’t do much to reassure her.

‘Yes,’ she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. ‘I did my research on BDSM after that, and I really don’t think I’ll enjoy the kind of things you have in mind.’
‘Oh? And what kind of things would that be?’
‘The kind that hurt, that do significant damage. I saw the pictures.’ She shivered. ‘I—I can’t do that. I won’t participate in that.’
‘You saw the pictures.’ Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. ‘Do you think I’d permanently damage you?’
Hermione just looked at him. Did he really need an answer to that? He was Lord Voldemort, for crying out loud!
‘Hermione?’
Apparently, he did. ‘Even if it’s not permanent, I’m not into that kind of thing.’
Suddenly, he stepped forwards, grabbed her wrist, turned around and walked towards the bed, dragging her with him.
‘Wha-what are you doing?’
‘Clearly, we need to discuss this,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘and I don’t think you’re comfortable talking about it when I’m inches away from equipment you think you don’t want me to use on you.’
‘I don’t just think it,’ she objected, pissed.
‘Sit,’ he ordered, letting go of her wrist and pointing to the bed.
Hermione sat down, seething. ‘I know what I want and don’t want. There is no need to use that condescending comment of “you think”.’
He sat down in front of her on the table. ‘I wasn’t being condescending. I was considering how little your experience is with BDSM and thus I don’t believe you can make an informed deci—’
‘Condescending again,’ Hermione snapped.
‘If you’re basing your information on the pathetic, uninformed literature that is out there and the over the top, unrealistic pornographic pictures, then yes, I’ve got every right to be condescending,’ Tom snarled. ‘Now, I’m trying to have an adult conversation here. Do you think you can handle that without snapping at every word I say?’
Hermione growled, leaning forward in order to rise. His hand was on her shoulder in a flash.

‘Sit down, Hermione,’ he said, squeezing her shoulder lightly. ‘We need to talk about this. You know that.’
For a moment, she just stood there in a half-squatted pose, her eyes on him, considering her options. She knew he was right; this was something they had to address. She’d even intended to do so back home. It was just … harder than she envisioned beforehand. It was easier to simply argue and avoid the subject. Merlin, how childish of her indeed. Abruptly, she plunked back on the bed, folding her hands in her lap and looking up at him.

‘Sorry.’
‘Why, thank you for that heartfelt apology. Now—’
‘Wait a second!’ she interrupted, her eyes wide in sudden realisation. ‘You changed the subject.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Oh, great, the innocent expression again. Really? Really!’ Hermione flew to her feet, tossing her hands in the air before putting them at her sides as she looked down. ‘You never answered my question about what your plans are.’
Annoyance flashed over Tom’s face. Hermione felt proud of herself for spotting that and for spotting the change in subject before she’d left and would’ve wanted to bang her head against the wall in retrospect for missing it.

He scratched the back of his head before slowly rising to his feet and once again towering over her, but she wasn’t afraid. She felt giddy and watched his every move expectantly. His face had turned blank again. Yet, something had changed. Something had shifted in her favour. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she felt it.
‘You know what my plans are, Hermione,’ Tom said softly, his hand reaching out and disappearing into her hair.
She just waited, silently, expectantly, while he seemed engrossed into playing with her hair. It sent delicious tingles down her spine, but she ignored that, focusing on his face and the answer she had demanded.
‘Any dunce would be able to figure it out. Do you really need me to spell it out to you?’
She narrowed her eyes at him. Did he just call her stupid?
‘Fine. I plan to escape this insipid prison, disappear for a couple of years, and return to take over this planet with you at my side. Is that clear enough, honest enough, Gryffindoresque enough, for you?’
‘It’s delusional enough.’
‘Delusional?’
‘Do you honestly expect me to help you?’
‘Why shouldn’t I?’
‘Oh Godric,’ she huffed, shaking her head. ‘How many times do I have to say it? I. Am. Not. Helping. You.’
He shrugged. ‘Clearly we’re at a disagreement there.’
‘Oh, are we? You know what? Do you want proof? Here’s your proof: seven, three, four, eight, nine, five. Did you think I wouldn’t recall those? How would your plans go without having your funds available when I inform the Ministry which vault to confiscate?’
‘I wouldn’t advise that.’
‘Threatening me now?’
‘No, you did the threatening. I merely gave you the advice not to go there.’
‘Really, what’s stopping me? Your delusional assessment of my cooperation?’
‘No, our marriage. My assets are your assets now, darling, as are yours mine. If the Ministry wants to seize my property, they’ll have to seize it all. Everything I own,’ he said, winking at her.
‘I’m not some fucking asset,’ Hermione snarled, upset that option had just become a lot less tempting.
‘No, you’re a lot more than that.’

‘I could just donate everything to charity that’s there,’ she replied, ignoring his statement.

He snorted. He actually snorted as if it didn’t matter to him what she did with the contents of his vault. That was even more disturbing. If he didn’t care, she had zero leverage.

‘Well, before you plan to play the great philanthropist, I’d strongly recommend you check out the contents of said vault first. You might be surprised to find what’s there.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Tom shrugged. ‘Why don’t you go to Gringotts and find out? I’d be sincerely surprised if you’d wish or dare to part with it.’

More cryptic statements, clearly she wasn’t going to get a straight answer on this subject. Instead, there was the blatant manipulation by making her curious about said contents now. She’d assumed it was only money. Damn. She couldn’t just give away everything unseen if there was the option the contents were potentially dangerous, lethal even. She had no choice but to go there if she wanted anything to be done with it. Blasted Riddle, he was too infuriating to be around.

‘Why am I even here?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Why did you ask for me? What the hell do you want with me, Riddle?’
‘This is getting repetitive.’
‘That’s because you never answer the bloody question.’
‘You want an answer?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fine. I asked for you because you intrigued me.’
‘Intrigued you.’
‘Yes, intrigued me. I had already seen the side of you that you prefer to hide from the world when you implemented that pathetically convoluted plan to kill me.’
‘Convoluted plan!? Now, wait just a moment, you don’t get to call out others on having convoluted plans, Riddle. “I have to be the one to kill Harry Potter”,’ she mimicked mockingly.
He hissed through his teeth, looking sideways for a moment before facing her again. ‘If you really wanted to kill me back then, Hermione, trying to drown me in the sewers was quite the complicated method to achieve it. Far too many chances of it going wrong, which surprise, surprise, it did.’
‘Well, I felt it was suiting.’
‘And I thought it was much more a dare of you, an invitation from someone desperate to be dominated by someone powerful enough to achieve it,’ he replied sweetly.
‘Delusional again.’ She tilted her head. ‘Or your tiny, little ego talking. Probably both,’ she decided.
‘Considering the current circumstances we are in, wife—’ He fingered her collar. ‘—I think you’re the one being delusional here.’
Hermione laughed. ‘Do you honestly expect me to believe you wanted me because of that?’ she asked, snorting. ‘You must think me extremely gullible.’
‘I never said I was finished. You demand to hear the truth, yet you continue to keep on interrupting me. Perhaps you should let me finish.’
‘Oh my, letting you finish talking, I’ll die of old age befo—’
‘Granger,’ he warned.
‘Okay, fine,’ she zipped her lips demonstratively with her fingers.

‘Now I merely found your behaviour amusing back then, unaware of everything you did until Healer Cutler and company kindly provided me with all the information I needed. He was quite the fan, kept going on and on and on about all your achievements and actions. Such a valuable source of information—’
‘—until you killed him.’
‘Until the wards affected him to the extent he wanted nothing more than to die,’ Riddle laughed. ‘It was quite entertaining watching their descent into madness, how sick they felt. In the end, all it took were a few choice words here and there to make them see the solution to their continued problems.’
‘That’s just sick,’ she replied, disgusted.
‘No, that’s power,’ he said feverishly, ‘and they couldn’t handle it, weren’t smart enough to realise the real reason behind their illnesses, weren’t smart enough to see through my manipulations. It made me wonder, Hermione, wonder about you. How much of those stories were true? Would you live up to them? And if so, how would you react to those wards? Such power,’ he sighed, stroking her cheek, ‘and such intelligence. They hardly did you justice. I knew I had to make you mine.’
Hermione swallowed.
‘And when you kept those bruises …’ he trailed off, his gaze unfocused. ‘Bella used to—’
‘Please don’t compare me to that insane bitch,’ Hermione snapped.
Disturbed, he looked down at her. ‘She—’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’
‘I don’t recall snapping at you when you mentioned your dunce ex.’
‘My ex didn’t torture you for hours.’
‘No, he just killed a piece of my soul.’
‘As if your soul was something you valued.’
‘My immortality was.’
That statement produced a dreadful silence, one that felt as if it lingered for hours on end. Hermione’s mouth went open and shut, lost for words to counter this.

Tom finally broke their impasse by saying, ‘Besides, you should thank her.’
‘Thank her!?’ Hermione said, angry. ‘Thank her for Cruciating me!?’
‘If she hadn’t, if she instead had called me at once as she should’ve, you’d be dead now. I would’ve killed you and everyone else there on sight. Make no mistake about that, Hermione. You owe her your life.’
‘Dobby saved my life, not her. And she killed him. I don’t owe that insane bitch one single thing.’
‘Insane? She spent years in a Dementor-filled Azkaban. What’s Weaselbee’s excuse?’
‘Don’t talk about Ron that way; he may not have been right for me, but I hurt him and he doesn’t deserve this crap. There is nothing wrong with him.’
‘You don’t know anything about Bellatrix Black’s life, Hermione,’ Tom said sharply. ‘Don’t presume to think you can stand there making judgements about other people with that allegedly moral high ground you fancy yourself and the Order walking on.’
‘Well, clearly, I’ve fallen off that high ground when I married you.’
‘Yes. So why did you?’
‘What?’
‘I told you the truth. I told you why I wanted you. Now it’s your turn.’
Hermione shook her head, her face expressing her disbelief more than words. ‘None of what you said was any reason to marry me.’
‘It wasn’t?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘I daresay it was. I wanted you.’
‘That didn’t require marriage.’
‘I. Don’t. Share … ever. I told you that when you asked me to make you mine, when you begged me to fuck you. Or did you conveniently erase that from your mind as well?’
She gritted her teeth, annoyed at the blush that was spreading across her cheeks. ‘You shared Bella,’ she replied in a viciously sweet tone of voice.
‘Oh, so now we are allowed to talk about her?’
Aggravated, Hermione growled and tossed her hands in the air. ‘You know damn well why I’m mentioning her. Don’t come to me with that crap about marrying me because you wanted me.’
Crap? Tom mouthed as if he had no idea what she was referring to, infuriating her even more so.
‘Don’t even try it,’ she hissed, pricking into his chest. ‘If I so much as hear you attempt to use the word “love” on me, I will—’ she shut up abruptly, staring at the laughing Riddle.
‘Love,’ he snorted, ‘you are so adorable.’ Then he started laughing at her again.
Yes, at her. It was infuriating. Hermione placed her hands in her sides. ‘You were gonna.’
‘Oh yes, I’m so unintelligible to try that,’ he sniggered.
‘Well, some bull remotely associated to it.’
‘Granger, I don’t think you’re that gullible.’
‘So I am gullible.’
Amused, he shook his head. ‘Do you really want to twist all my words around, Hermione? It’s getting you nowhere.’
‘Because you’re not telling me the truth.’
‘But I have, dear. Maybe not all of it,’ he said before she could interrupt him, ‘but you knew that in advance. I’ve told you the important parts, the answers to what you really wanted to hear. I’d tell you everything if I were sure I could trust you completely. Can I trust you completely, Hermione? Can I lay my life in your hands and know you’ll do the right thing?’
She stared at him, feeling her heart sink. She wanted to lie, knew she should to hear it all, but she couldn’t get the words to leave her mouth.
‘That silence is answer enough, isn’t it, dear?’
Hermione looked down, closing her suddenly watering eyes. This stunk, everything about this situation stunk, and she’d created it, had let it happen. The road to hell really was paved with good intentions. Now she felt guilty towards Tom Marvolo Riddle of all people! She turned away, needing to clear her mind. What was it about him that always made it so hard? Why couldn’t she just stay focused on her target? Why did he have such an impact on her?

‘It’s all right, Hermione,’ he said softly, cupping her cheek and lifting her chin towards him. ‘I’m not expecting miracles. It’s only logical for you to have reservations.’

She smiled weakly in response, not knowing what to say since it was the truth. She had reservations, and they were logical to have.

‘May I ask something of you though?’

‘Sure.’

‘You said you were concerned about some of Mistress Aphrodite's items.’

‘Well, several. Actually, quite a lot,’ she interrupted, making an apologetic expression.

‘Okay, quite a lot,’ he corrected. ‘Have I done anything to you in here that you didn’t want me to, Hermione?’

‘No,’ she rapidly said, upon seeing concern flash through his eyes. ‘No, I just ...’

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t know. I’m scared, I suppose.’

‘Scared of what exactly?’

‘To get hurt.’

‘Are you worried I will cross over your boundaries? Because I am aware you’re a novice at this.’

She just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Well, she knew, but …

‘What is it?’

‘Well, yes, I’m worried you’ll go too far or lose your temper.’

‘I suppose I deserve the latter given what happened before,’ he murmured, looking down, almost seeming abashed. ‘I am sorry about that,’ he looked her straight into the eye as he said that.

Now she felt like crap. He hadn’t just lost his temper like that. She’d been beating the shit out of him.

‘I’m sorry for losing my temper, too, and hitting you with that cane,’ she replied, scratching her neck uncomfortably. ‘I suppose I’m being unfair since … well, I don’t think I would’ve reacted calmly had someone attacked me like that either, but ...’

‘You can’t unsee what you saw then,’ he finished.

She nodded.

‘I can’t promise you that I’ll never lose my temper ever again because that would be a blatant lie, since I can’t foresee what events the future will bring. However, I can say that in all my years of living I’ve never lost my temper during a session with a sub.’ He grabbed her hand, guiding her back to the bed to sit down, and she followed, sitting across from him as he sat on the table. ‘I do not wish you harm, Hermione. I enjoy watching you submit yourself to my wishes, following my lead because you wish to please me. It’s not about force, ever. It would be easy I suppose,’ he said, pondering as he stared into thin air.

Suddenly, his hands lashed out, grabbing her wrists and yanking her to her knees.

‘You think I want this from you?’ he asked, looking at her wide-eyed face. ‘I could force you, hurt you, make you do whatever I please, whether you like it or not, but it lacks finesse, wouldn’t you say? There is no challenge in it, no victory, no pleasure.’ Pulling her wrists onto his lap and grabbing them with one hand so he could bury the other in her wild curls, he yanked her head back and leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek. ‘Do you honestly think this is what I desire of you, my wife?’

Hermione sighed, shaking her head, noticing he allowed the movement. ‘You could do that to anyone.’

‘Exactly,’ he said, loosening his grip on her wrists to her sincere disappointment. She kept her hands there, hoping he’d tighten his hold again soon. ‘If I were to go completely against your wishes, hurt you severely, what would you do then?’

‘Find a way to kill you.’

‘Ah yes, I keep forgetting you’re the vengeful type,’ he sniggered. ‘Such an attractive quality.’

‘Glad you approve.’

‘Well, I’m not too keen about the part where it involves killing me, but it proves my point nevertheless.’ He stroked the inside of her wrist with his fingertips. ‘It would be entirely against my best interest to lose you, and I would lose you if I were to go too far. Right?’

She nodded.

‘So if you don’t trust me to keep your best interest in mind, can you trust me to keep my best interest at heart?’

‘Only you,’ Hermione said, her words stopped with her inability to refrain from giggling, ‘would word it like that.’

‘I’m trying to find a way to set your mind at ease. Have I, Hermione?’

‘I guess, yes. I definitely trust Lord Voldemort to keep his own best interest at heart,’ she dropped her head on his lap, giggling.

‘So you’ll trust me as your Master?’

Hermione looked up, smiling. ‘I trust you. I can’t say it completely erases my fears about being bound and helpless while you use those whips, blades, paddles and such on me, but I do trust you.’

‘Hmmm… I like your idea of you bound and helpless, at my mercy. Perhaps we should do that right now?’ For a brief second, he tightened his grip on her wrists and hair again. His action, combined with the vivid visual darting in front of her mind’s eye, shot straight to her sex, making her press her legs together as a moan left her lips.

‘I want your surrender, Hermione. I want you to beg me to do whatever I please with you. I want you to take pleasure from that. I wish to be your Master in every sense of the word, guiding you in crossing your personal boundaries, making you feel pain so you can receive pleasure beyond your wildest dreams and——’

She groaned loudly.

‘What?’

‘Blah, blah, blah,’ she said, acting overly tiresomely.

‘Oh, you wish to go straight to action?’

‘Again dying of old age here.’

‘I should gag that insolent mouth of yours, but given that you previously acknowledged your hesitance in several BDSM practices, and we haven’t discussed any of it yet—’ Here he gave her a pointed stare because she was the one reprimanding him for talking. ‘—and I’m not sure you’re experienced enough with the nonverbal signals, I believe I can be generous enough to allow you a safeword. So what will it be?’

‘Er...’ She drew a blank.

‘I thought you said you’d done your research on BDSM,’ he taunted. ‘Would’ve thought such elaborate investigation would’ve come across “safewords” and their usage.’

‘I know what it is.’

‘Oh, I know one for you: spew.’

‘Har-har. And here I was thinking of going with immortality.’

‘Hmmm...’ he muttered, pulling her up and capturing her lips, ‘I love the way you think, wife, but it’s too long. We’ll go with spew.’

She spluttered slightly to show her dismay, but the truth was that spew had already lodged itself into her brain now, and he knew that. When push came to shove, that would be the word erupting from her mouth even if they decided on another.

‘Fine, but I’ll remember this,’ she grunted.

‘I’m scared already,’ Tom said, grinning.

‘You’d better be.’
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The Prisoner