Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Captive Audience	By : magentasouth Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 44847 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from any part of the Harry Potter universe.

Chapter List
- 1-Ch 1
- 2-Ch 2
- 3-Ch 3
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-Ch 7
- 8-Ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Ch 10
- 11-Ch 11
- 12-Ch 12
- 13-Ch 13
- 14-Ch 14
- 15-Ch 15 (just edited - no addition)
- 16-Ch 16
- 17-Ch 17
- 16
- 17
Hermione
had been expecting an entrance hall of some kind, perhaps even a dedicated
apparition chamber, but the room that snapped into being around them both
dizzyingly was dimmer, clad mainly in leather and polished wood rather than
blinding white marble.� It was a small
and strangely cosy study of some kind, its walls lined in bookshelves and
faintly moving oil landscapes.� Draco
released her arm at once and stalked off in the direction of a dark glossy
lacquer side cabinet with gold corners.�
As she turned on the spot, taking in her environment more fully, she
could hear the faint shivery clink of ice cubes against glass and gurgly slosh
of liquid being poured unsteadily.� Her
eye fell upon a massive painting of a forest glade.� It was so realistic, the wind ruffling the
leaves slightly, rays of sun dappling the grass � she could almost imagine
stepping inside the image.�
�Granger..�
She
jumped at the nearness of the voice and turned defensively, almost upturning
the glass that Draco was offering her.� He
reacted quickly enough to pull it back out of range and it merely splashed over
his hand.� The irritated pull of his
eyebrows was almost entirely sublimated beneath a patient, understanding
facade.��
�No!..� I.. I mean - no thank you!� I don�t want that.�� She frowned at the idea of drinking..
whatever that was � it looked suspiciously like firewhisky � in the
mid-afternoon.� Particularly not after
what had apparently happened last night when she had been drinking.��
Draco�s
lips thinned, his eyes narrowing slightly in speculation as he looked her over.

�I�m surprised you�re so blas� about killing an unknown wizard.� It was one thing after you..� that is - after the Dark Lord was killed..
but...�

His breath caught and Hermione had the strange impression of something like
comprehension lighting up behind the sharp grey eyes; comprehension tinged with
avaricious relish

� ..This isn�t the first time you�ve killed someone, is it?!� he said slowly
with grim conviction.�� I thought you
were shaken and hysterical in the cage because you had killed for the first time..�

Draco trailed off and his brows furled slightly as if he had thought of
something else now that disturbed him.

�but maybe that wasn�t the reason...�
he finished in a preoccupied tone, his eyes distant as his mind obviously
continued to follow whatever strange trail of cognition was perturbing him
Hermione
stiffened and looked away, her mind whirling to come up with a reassuring empty
answer that might stop the blond from thinking too much about that night.� Draco might be offering her help right now
but that was an anomaly.� As long as she�d known him, he�d been a
threat, or at best � an annoyance.�
Sharing something that might be used against her was not a good idea.� Allowing Draco to know about what she had
done at Lord Voldemort�s command would be insanely stupid... -not to mention
what she had done more or less by choice with the Dark Lord himself.�

Could anyone possibly understand
that?�
�Firstly
� Bromley was not an unknown wizard�
she started in a tone that she had once employed to lecture Harry and Ron ��
I�ve seen him before many times while I was...� she halted, fumbling for a
descriptor that would give the right kind of impression, but unsure entirely
what the right impression might be right now when Draco Malfoy was examining
her so carefully and had actually implicitly acknowledged that they both shared
the secret of what she had done � namely that Harry Potter, the saviour of the
wizarding world had in fact not
vanquished the Dark Lord, because his mudblooded friend had had that singular
honour.� She hardly wanted to bring up
the cage again.�� She didn�t want to go
back into a cage at Malfoy�s hand,
and that had certainly seemed to be what he was offering before Bromley had
interrupted them and threatened their lives.�
It was..

Well.. it wasn�t exactly untrue that she missed the cage, she conceded to
herself very reluctantly, although it wasn�t the cage that she really missed � however it was insulting to point it out as if she were some kind of Stockholm
syndrome sufferer..

...and that thought was far, far too close to the truth for
comfort.� She cautioned herself to stop
thinking before she made herself upset.

�When I was..there..� she finished
somewhat stiltedly.��

�I was perfectly aware of his capabilities, Draco.� If he said he was going to kill us � he would
have tried to do just that...Besides - my not wanting to drink..whatever that
is.. has nothing to do with what just happened and everything to do with what
happened this morning.� Clearly, if last
night�s events are to be believed � I really ought not to drink at all in
future.�� She congratulated herself on
steering the conversation back to safer areas.

Well... comparatively safer.
�Yes..� Draco
frowned uncertainly.� �Of course you�d
have seen him before.� I didn�t
think..� You were in the cage for so long
that it seemed like you were part of the furniture � it was easy to forget you
were there.�

Still... you don�t even look too shaken.�
You just.. without a flicker of hesitation...�

I mean... I rather thought that a stiff drink might be welcome under these
particular circumstances.� It wasn�t� as if I was going to make a fest of it and
line them up until we were both under the table.� Fuck.�
Well, I want a drink,
anyway.� We could have been killed!� He
drifted thoughtfully in the direction of the armchairs by the fire, a glass in
each hand.�
Hermione
wasn�t convinced.� Draco�s mind was still
revolving around the questions that she had wanted to lead him away from.�
Uneasily,
she followed him over to the fire and perched herself in the opposite armchair,
taking in the distant expression as the blonde sipped at the amber liquid in
the glass he held in his right hand.� The
other hand gripped the second glass absently, resting it on the arm of the
chair.� Hermione shifted anxiously in her
seat.

This drew the blonde�s attention once more and he seemed to size her up,
tilting his head fractionally.�
�....Who
was it?�� When was it?�
She
frowned.� His eyes were slightly
unfocussed � she almost had the impression that he was merely musing to himself
aloud rather than asking a question.

Or perhaps that wasn�t the question that his mind was actually preoccupied
with.

The silence stretched on.� She couldn�t
exactly tell him the truth and yet she found she couldn�t quite manage to force
the dismissive lie across her lips that she didn�t know what he was talking
about, letalone the blunt refutation of his correct assumption.�

As she held her breath and shifted her eyes to the low flickering flames of the
fire, she could almost feel the blonde boy�s expression darken as he looked at
her
�I don�t
want to talk about it.� she bit out, thin lipped.�� and if I did � I assure you � you wouldn�t be the first name to spring to mind.�
�Katie
Bell�
Hermione
glanced up, confused and unbalanced by the venom and desperation with which the
snotty blonde had spat the words, apropos of nothing.
�um..
what?�
She
watched as Draco ground his teeth, his narrowed eyes on the glass in his right
hand.� �You heard� he snarled.� �it was Bell..� the daft tart.� She was the first he..he made me..��

Grey eyes swivelled and fixed on her own entreatingly.�
She just knew she was looking at Draco like a
stunned mullet and closed her mouth with a quiet but audible click.
�I.. it
was an accident!!� he whined.� �After my father was captured in the ministry
of magic, the Dark Lord took more of..of.. an interest.. in me.� He set me a task.. it wasn�t her I was supposed to..� It was just...bad luck.. or..or the witch was
too nosy for her own good.�� I.. I don�t
know.� I wasn�t there.� It was...�
Hermione
reeled her jaw in once again from the surprise at the wheedling confession her
longtime school enemy was making to her.

Draco, as if he was recovering his senses too, composed himself again, the
distant mask sliding back up over.

�You were already gone by then... and I hadn�t yet been given �visiting
privileges� � as far as I was concerned you were probably dead, or as good as �
we weren�t on the most amicable of terms at that point, you�ll recall.�� It.. was a Hogsmeade weekend and-....� what?� The blonde glared off to the left in
something between defiance and peevishness.�
Hermione
tried to smooth her forehead from the furrow of consternation it had taken
on.� What the hell was the ferret playing
at?!� And then he answered that question too, which, she realised,
must have been clearly painted across her face for him to read.
�I told
you that already when I first visited you in St Mungos.�� There are..things... that trouble me.�
Things that I�ve done � that he made me do... and other things that he
didn�t exactly make me do � such as
cruciating you that night.� I need
to..�� the pale sharp slender face
tightened in discomfort as if the wizard were physically struggling with the
effort to force the words out.�

�I need to get some things off my chest... I need to talk to someone � but only
someone who might understand.� You understand how it was with the Dark
Lord..�� He was very difficult to
refuse.�

Potter doesn�t and won�t ever know what that means � whatever he has or hasn�t
been through � he�s still bloody oblivious and naive to everything short of a
brick upside the head.�

None of my surviving former friends who have been in similar positions seem to
be at all bothered by their own actions... at least those who haven�t been
given the kiss don�t seem to be, obviously.�
The others � well, very little will ever bother them again.�

I..� I just have to do something.�� I have difficulty sleeping.. Do you...that is..� I don�t know what all happened to you there
but you...must.. understand at least how it feels to be apart from all
others.� Your friends and acquaintances
don�t know you anymore.. don�t trust you..�
your family wants to have you declared mad.� Surely you-�
�Yes.�
She heard herself growl in a leaden voice.�
�Yes. Ok.� I understand.�
Draco
looked at once relieved and peculiarly sharpened, like an animal that had
scented blood.
�I didn�t
want to do it.� he offered quickly �but
you didn�t say �No� to him.� You didn�t
say �I can�t� � even if it was something terrible, because...�� he swallowed and the small pointed adams
apple in his slender white throat bobbed slightly.
�Because
you�d end up doing it anyway and if you tried to resist � it got worse� she
finished for him wearily.�
The
expression on the aristocratic face as Draco nodded at her betrayed faint
satisfaction.�

�It did.� And... it was worse if he
hadn�t given you specific orders.. if he just told you to use your own
discretion...� or gave you the freedom to do it �however you
prefer.�� It was as if you were choosing
to do it yourself then.� And... and he
knew that�

Draco�s face wore a tight, introspective, haunted,
grimace and Hermione could sympathise.�
She really could.
�yes,
exactly!� she responded with restrained indignation � that same point had
bothered her no end in her dealings with the wizard. �and he seemed to enjoy it
even more then!� But what else could you
do?!�
�yes.� ...Exactly.� Draco repeated back at her
hollowly.
They
shared a long look.� Hermione was just
revisiting her impression of the now Lord Malfoy when Draco asked, with such
nonchalance that his voice nearly shook with the raw gobs of �passing interest�
dripping from it �So..what did he make you
do then?�
She held
her breath and counted to five to prevent herself from screaming obscenities at
the git.� For a moment she�d actually
been tempted to answer the question.� For
a few seconds she�d been sucked into the whole �oh poor Draco � he was trapped
into doing awful things just like I was � I should share with him just a little
bit since he did open up and tell me about how upset he was at being forced to
kill someone��

But then...she really couldn�t be sure now that anything at all had ever happened
to Katie Bell � Draco might have made it all up just to manipulate her into
revealing her own secrets.� As it was �
the best case suggested that he was,
in a typically Slytherin manner, seeking some sort of quid pro quo.� He would tell her about the awful things that
she had no interest in hearing about if she would tell him about the awful
things that she had no intention of speaking about.�
�Alright...
calm down.� Think!�� Hermione tried to get her thoughts back into
order, feeling the probing stare still upon her, still waiting, still
metaphorically slavering for
information.�

How to get away from this?!

She couldn�t stay with Harry right now � the logic behind that had been quite
reasonable to her- and if what she had been told was at all true, returning
home to her parents could be a very bad idea at this juncture.� She had heard enough about psychiatric
facilities in the muggle world to know without a doubt that she did not want to
be locked away within one.� If Draco was
offering her an apartment.. then surely all she needed to do was remain polite
until she could find and move into one, keep to herself there for a while and
then she would inherit all of the galleons that her mysterious benefactor had
left her.� She could settle the score and
go her own way then.� All she had to do
was keep shy of anyone who wanted to know about what had happened.� At this point � who could really be trusted?!�
�I really
am very tired, Draco.� Perhaps we could
talk another time� she said, keeping her eyes tuned on the shadows at the far
corner of the room and away from the piercing grey ones a few metres away.

The fire crackled.
The
silence stretched on too long.� Hermione
darted a nervous glance at her former classmate and now simultaneously overt
threat and last, best, hope.

Draco was considering her with cool narrowed eyes.� His demeanour reminded her in some strange
way of Voldemort � of absolute power displeased with her.� The impression shattered almost in the moment
that she glimpsed it and then Draco was all polite apologies and
reassurances.� He glided to his feet
smoothly and vanished the drinks he had been holding without a second thought,
before summoning a uniformed house elf and requesting
it respectfully to guide her to her rooms.�
Then, as if embarrassed or
suddenly urgently required elsewhere, he offered with unconvincing humility
that he hoped that they would be adequate to her needs, informed her that all
of Malfoy Manor was at her service should she require anything whatsoever, bade
her good evening with a short bow and retreated from the room quietly, closing
the door behind him.
She was
left, in the face of the sudden departure, blinking in mild confusion and
trying to make sense of her impressions.�
Was she biased in her apprehension of Draco?� Was she being unfair?� He had seemed to make every effort to be
cordial and generous, understanding and patient.� He hadn�t actually done anything for which she could fault him at any point.�

So he had asked her about what had happened to her.� He�d expressed the desire to share his own
experiences with her.� Perhaps he needed her to reciprocate in order to be
able to do so.� She had no idea whether
Slytherins might not have much more difficulty in that arena than Gryffs.� She hadn�t actually known any.
Well..
aside from Voldemort.

He was ...rather reticent about sharing information about himself.� But would that be because he was a Slytherin,
or � more likely � because he was Lord Voldemort?!� After all.. it was a logical prerequisite for
successfully manipulating the masses that you not wear your heart on your
sleeve.
Just like
surviving if one is drafted into the service of a psychopathic Dark Lord with
unbelievable legilimentic ability, she observed unwillingly.
Conceding
to herself that it was faintly possible that she might be judging Draco
unfairly, she sighed and tried to ignore the faint prick of uncertain
guilt.�� Perhaps Draco was feeling panic
right now because he had actually voluntarily made himself vulnerable before
her, only to have her throw the gesture back in his face.�

But was that her fault?!� She had told him that she didn�t want to talk
about it and he�d offered the information voluntarily even so.��
�Missy be
wanting to go up to her rooms now?� the little elf squeaked up at her with a
hopeful smile, extending its hand to her.�
The creature didn�t seem at all like Dobby had been.� It had a very calm and collected appearance
to it.� �Is a very nice rooms that the
Master is giving you.� You be liking
thems.�

*#*#*#*
Should
she?�
Of course
she should.. so why was she hesitating?!�
Hermione
sat on the luxuriously appointed bed in the bedroom that was opulent to the
point of elegance without veering into ostentation, feeling uneasy, trapped,
suspicious and strangely guilty over the fact.��

After Draco had departed, The little elf in the silver and black uniform,
�Topaz�, had taken Hermione by the hand and led her slowly upstairs and through
a confusing maze of corridors to a door that seemed just like any other door,
but which was evidently the room that Draco had intended for her... rather than
simply an acceptable room that the elf thought she might like.
She came
to this conclusion based upon the object that she was currently staring at
pensively from her perch on the edge of the bed.
It had
been in the room when she had entered.�
The attached note was quite thoughtful.�
It stated to the effect that Draco had thought she might be in need of
the potion in question but had not wanted to broach the rather delicate
subject.� It explained that the potion
was trustworthy - it had been made by Severus Snape and would not expire for
another three years.� Indeed this part
was at least partially corroborated by the scratchy extremely right leaning
handwriting of the potions master on the little label that was affixed over the
unbroken wax seal on the potion.

�Abortive potion � for use within 72
hours of conception�

It was a narrow slender black potions phial of the type she had seen a
thousand times before in the infirmary at Hogwarts or in the surreptitious
possession of older Gryffindor girls.� It
was the wizarding world�s equivalent of the morning-after pill.
She
didn�t know why she was hesitating.� �
It wasn�t
that she didn�t trust Draco.� She was
once again rather more angled toward the direction of trusting him at present..
but, even if she weren�t, she suspected that he wouldn�t substitute anything
with this particular potion unless he
actually wanted her to become pregnant with Harry�s child � and she couldn�t
see any possible benefit to him from that outcome.� Ergo the potion was probably
trustworthy.�
Although
it wasn�t the absolute core of her anxiety and internal chaos right now - the
fact that the potion had already been here and waiting troubled her deeply -
the notion that Draco had known that
she would be coming back here, irrespective all the talk about apartments.� That he had planned for it.��

Well.. Ok.. she had no absolute proof of that.�
Obviously he might have remembered and apparated back to pen the note
and have a house elf deliver it while she was travelling the twenty miles to
her room. ..And even if he had planned for her to stay � he had expected
problems when he�d come by Harry�s place that morning.� He had intended
to ask her to stay.� He�d made no
secret of that.
Oh!!!� Harry�s place!� She startled slightly, losing her grip on her
previous train of thought.�� Her things!�
She needed to go and collect them!

Although...the prospect of facing Harry and Ginny either still fighting or in
the midst of �making up� was supremely unattractive..
The
thought of leaving everything there bothered her though.� It felt vulnerable.. as if cat burglars might
be slipping through the windows while she sat here, to steal the odd, seemingly
useless objects.

Was it at all wise to bring them here
though?

Bringing them to Malfoy Manor felt almost more
worrying than leaving them where they were.��
She did not put it past Draco to go through her things with a fine tooth
comb the moment her back was turned.� And
he was far more broadly versed in
dark magic than she herself, and in all magic, really, if she was comparing him
to Harry and Ginny.�

If she herself couldn�t make sense of what the charred door meant or did.. she
certainly didn�t want to risk the possibility that Draco could and that it might be something extremely valuable from Voldemort.��
No.. her
things were currently hidden and warded in a secret kept building.� It would be better to leave them there until
she had a place of her own.� Harry
wouldn�t go through them if he could get to them and Ginny probably wouldn�t be
able to find them.�

Hopefully..
She
picked up the potion and weighed it in her hand.
It was
the only reasonable thing to do.� She
couldn�t take the risk of further repercussions from the little �mistake� that
had occurred last night.
So why
was she hesitating?
It was
not as if she wanted to have a child
� or even Harry�s child.. and it
would make everything a thousand times worse.��
And if it was the issue of killing a potential unborn child � well.. she�d
killed fully grown people that she had cared
for.� She�d killed a death eater less
than two hours ago.� This was,
pragmatically seen, a small group of cells, IF it was even there at all.
There was
no reason to be dithering about like this.�

She broke the seal decisively and raised the phial to her lips, her nose
prickling at the sharp vapours already curling from the lip of the slender
phial.� She snorted, pausing, trying to
identify the tantalisingly familiar scent from memory.� Potions class lay a long time in the past now
though.� Her mind fumblingly wanted to
say that there was something in the potion that smelled faintly like yam...
or.. sweet potato?�� Not quite but.. there
was something very familiar about that.�
Professor Sprouts round red face popped unhelpfully into her
associations.� It wasn�t yam.. it was...
She was
stirred from her musing by an elf cracking into the room without warning and
asking her in a squeaky voice whether she would be liking dinner now.� When she guiltily told it that she wasn�t
hungry and would go to bed early, it looked frightened and popped away
quickly.� Although she had not seen or
heard Draco abuse his house elves.. the little creature�s behaviour gave her
pause.� Would it be punished because she
wasn�t peckish?!

And she really wasn�t.� She was finding
herself, now that she was finally alone and able to think, somewhat melancholic
in the face of her recent unflinching murder.��
Oh... not regretful.. that
would be too much to say � but it was disturbing that she had somehow, in mere
months, gone from being an innocent captive in a cage to someone who would fire
a deadly dark curse at someone else without so much as the intervention of
higher thought processes.

Although she might have been able to argue self defence back and forth, she
knew in her own mind, it had been murder.

And now it would be murders if she
counted the abortifacient gripped tightly in her hand, fizzing away to itself
innocuously in the dim candlelight, as if it were merely aspirin or alka
seltzer she would take for a head or stomach ache.�
On the
one hand she recognised rationally that a cluster of cells had no self
awareness, no sense of pain or loss.�
Emotionally however.. the idea of killing her own child appalled her.�
She
placed the potion back at her lips with fingers that barely trembled.
And then
before she could talk herself out of what was the only reasonable thing to do
in these awful circumstances, she�d tipped the phial and forced the bitter
tasting mouthful down her throat.�

It left a strangely blackberry taste in its wake.
Almost
immediately, it was next to impossible to keep her eyes open.� She chided herself for not having considered
that potential aspect of the potion and struggled to free herself from her
jumper and shoes and drag herself onto the bed.�
It was difficult to coordinate her fingers and remember what she was
doing.� She got the jumper off and
dropped it uncaring immediately, but only managed to toe one shoe off before
she was dropping down, as if from a great height, onto the mattress of the bed.

The pillow was sweetly scented.�
Jasmine.. or .. or.. another flower.. she wasn�t sure but it was
lovely.� Relaxing.�� She drifted off without even noticing.
*#*#*#*#*
He was
there..
She
curled closer in the darkness.. feeling the warm, smooth, familiar� body lying next to
her in bed.� He lay on his back, relaxed,
somehow powerful even in repose, as he always had been.�

She knew every line.. every muscle.� Her
trembling hand ghosted lightly down his warm side and she physically ached in relief.�

�I missed you!� she whispered urgently, entirely incapable of preventing the
words frothing out of her in her joy.�

�I knew you�d never let yourself be
killed like that.� It was too easy.� You planned it, didn�t you?!� Where have you been?!� Have you been here all along?!� Is that why Draco was so adamant about me
staying here?� Why didn�t you just..� I would have..� it�s been so hard without you for weeks and weeks.� I.. I mean.. I�m not presuming to.. that is..
it.. It doesn�t matter, really. I�m just.. I�m just so glad to see you!� Don�t leave me again!!� Please.. I�m sorry that I disobeyed.. I�ll do
what you tell me from now on, I promise!�
Just.. let me stay with you!�
She
became aware with a momentarily jarring disorientation that she was in the Dark
Lord�s bedchamber.�

Was this a different room in Malfoy Manor?�
A room he�d altered to resemble the one he preferred?� Was she.. she couldn�t actually be back
wherever his own domain had been � the aurors would have taken that place apart
brick by brick by now.� It was impossible
for it to remain as it had looked in the time she had been there.

The torches were out, yet she could make out the faint familiar lines of the
furniture.. the bookcases.. the bedposts.. the desk.� She could see the vague form of the body next
to her.� She knew his silhouette better
than that of any other living being.
But not
in the dark.�
In the
darkness in his chambers it was impossible to see anything at all.� There were no doors or windows.� In his chamber, the dark was absolute.� She shouldn�t be able to see.

Her fingertips traced up over the warm chest.�
It seemed that she could see
the faint crimson glimmers of his eyes.. but of course, she couldn�t possibly
in the dark..
The
realisation struck her with sickening certainty that she was dreaming and Voldemort
was dead.
It felt
like a cold hand had crushed her heart.��
He was really dead.� He was not
coming back and it was her fault.
Unlike
every other lucid dream she had ever had, the discovery that she was dreaming
didn�t break the spell, causing her to start to drift awake.� If anything the dream became still deeper.
She felt she could smell the familiar
scent of him.� Clean..organic.. like
leaves and rain and old parchment.� Her
stomach clenched and she felt tears well up.�
�You�re
gone.. aren�t you.� This isn�t real.�

It was a mere whimper.� She didn�t want
to wake up.
He turned
his face away, anger and bitterness narrowing his eyes.� His thin lips were tight
The guilt
was suffocating.�

Abruptly, he turned in the bed and reached for her.�

She flinched back in shock - For a moment she was afraid that he was going to
take revenge.. but his hands were not rough.�
He was apparently not seeking her pain at present.�

She shivered as she was stroked and pulled against him.� Warm smooth lips kissed her forehead and she
couldn�t help sobbing and clinging.�

If it were not a dream she would have held back.� He despised weakness and enjoyed her tears
only when he had wrung them from her personally.
�Do you
regret your choice?!�
She
stiffened at the unexpected question.�
His strange breathy harmonic
voice.. She had thought never to hear it again.�
It made butterflies swarm inside her chest.
�Yes!!!� Yes � I�m so sorry!!� I wish I hadn�t done it!� I wish I�d killed Harry like you told me
to!� I�ll.. I�ll.. I don�t know what I�ll
do.� I want-� no, I need-..�
�You wish
my return?��

It was a purr; dark and suggestive.� She
nodded frantically, holding the warm hard body more tightly.

�Yes! Tell me how!� I�ve been thinking about it but I..I�m not
sure where to begin.. or if it�s safe for me to do anything yet.� I�m worried that if I leave it too long then
there�ll be nothing I can do � but if I act carelessly then they�ll lock me up
and I�ll never be able to bring you back at all!� What do I need to do?!� I�ll do it!�
In answer
he growled and rolled, pushing her down onto her back and leaning over her,
bruising her lips with a devouring kiss.�
She responded eagerly, pleading with the fates not to let her wake up
yet.� One of his warm hands stroked over
her body.� It did not feel seductive � it
was somehow proprietary, as if he were checking for damage incurred in his
absence.� She didn�t care.� His touch soothed in a way nothing else had
since she had awoken in the hospital.�
After a while he stopped, pulling away and looking down at her.
�You have
betrayed me... You have lain with another.�
Guilt
surged through her in a rush of blood to her face.� How did he know?!� She hadn�t been thinking about it.. there was
no way to tell.� He hadn�t even touched her there yet.�
�N-no...
that is.. not really.. I don�t
remember... I.. I don�t know what happened.�
I think.. I think Draco might have drugged me.. Or..maybe not.�� Maybe it was just alcohol.� I don�t know.�
I guess that..H-Harry must have...um...done it.� Draco said he had..
and..and Harry was acting strangely this morning.. I don�t know.� I don�t know anything. �I have no idea
what even happened. �

Maybe.� Maybe I did um.. lie with someone
else.. technically.. but not intentionally,
m-my Lord.. If..if I did then I couldn�t help it.� I�m sorry!�
The
crimson eyes narrowed once more appraisingly and the oppressive silence
stretched on before he spoke again.�

�You promised to obey me.. Will you do as I instruct you now?�
Hermione
frowned and thought about the question.�
If it was just a dream, then it wasn�t really the Dark Lord.� Ergo, she would be telling herself what to do.�

But if it was a part of her subconscious telling her what the Dark Lord would want her to do?!� What if it had already worked out via some
idiot savant method how to bring him back?!
�Maybe..�
she whispered.
His lip
curled in disgust and she could feel his magic prickle around her as he hissed
his displeasure, a hand closing around her throat and painfully tightening with
effortless precision to the sheer razor edge of crushing her windpipe, her
cartilage grinding and clicking as she struggled for breath, leaving no doubt
that her next responses could bring a further deterioration of her
circumstances.

�Your last disobedience cost me the entire wizarding world, witch!� I am offering you one final chance.� Will you obey me?!�
�Yes!!
Yes.. ok.� Ok.. I will.� I�ll do whatever you want.� She choked out
breathlessly, disturbed by the bizarre conviction she suddenly felt that she
indeed would do whatever the dream Voldemort
might command.
He
softened, settling again and she had the strange mental impression of a cobra
pulling its hood back in against its body.

�Very well.� We shall see whether your
word is worth anything at all� he muttered.�
�You have received my bequest.�
She
startled slightly and nodded.

�I ...I think so.. but I don�t understand what I�m supposed to do with it.�
His
pitying smirk made her feel two inches tall.�
�You will need to ensure that you are alone when you first use it.� The first hand to make contact with the
handle after it is hung will be the only hand capable of opening it.�
A thrill
of excitement jolted through her.� It was something important.� It was from him and it wasn�t just an old door.�

�What�s behind the door?� she asked, pleased.
He
ignored the question entirely and continued without pause

�I expect you to spend at least three hours per day beyond the door.� In addition, you will also ensure that you sit your NEWT examinations.� Draco Malfoy will fund whatever you
require.� It is to be completed before
the year is out.

Hermione - I wish you to surpass
outstanding results.� Show me that my
interest in you was not misguided; that you are worthy of my attention.� You must
demonstrate brilliance.��
She
didn�t really see the point, but she nodded anyway. What would it matter if she
achieved wonderful results?!� It was
quite apparent that no one would ever trust her again and she�d never be able
to get a good job anyway.
�I
believe that you will prove yourself
worthy.� It would be indescribably
disappointing to me, were you to fail.�

...There are several more tasks I intend to entrust to you � but I must be
certain that you are willing and able to follow orders.� It is your own behaviour that has
necessitated such distrust.�
She felt
the guilt stab at her viciously again.�
Whether or not this was a dream � she would carry out whatever �order� he might give.� After all � the other two �orders�, even if
they came from her subconscious, seemed quite reasonable and practical.� The Dark Lord, currently leaning over her,
tilted his head as if in thought and then his small smirk widened
slightly.�

It evoked a vestigial panic response in her.�
He always smiled that way when he was about to do something nasty �
whether it was to curse her or to demand something horrible.�

Internally she braced herself for something unacceptable.
�Perhaps
a small..test... to ensure you will
follow my direction, irrespective what your own feelings might be...�� He paused and the smirk turned feral.

�Before the next new moon � you will retrieve at least one hair each from Draco
Malfoy and Harry Potter, without their knowledge and without utilising any magic in the process.�

It is a test of your determination and resourcefulness.� You will hide these hairs beyond the door.�
At her
horrified expression the smile widened still further.�

�I imagine you will require ingenuity if you do not wish to attract further
complications while collecting the sample from Potter.� The wizarding world and the Weasley family
will be monitoring you.�

Young Malfoy will be yet more challenging � I have known him to be extremely
vigilant in these matters.� If he
suspects you of attempting to steal a substance that can be utilised to render
him vulnerable, he will react aggressively and will be intensely suspicious
around you thereafter.� Think carefully
before you act.�
She was
still gaping and trying to wrap her mind around the concept.� �But.. how am I supposed to do it then?!� she
sputtered, upset. �Harry and Draco are.. well.. all I have in the world right now.�
The only ones helping me at all.�
If I do this and it goes wrong then I�ll lose everything! �It�s an insane
risk!� What do I even need their hair
for?!� Render them vulnerable, how?! And why?!�
He
snorted, amused and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead.� �It is, as I said, a test, Hermione.� As I still find myself tragically tempted by
you, I will be generous, my pet.� I will
permit you to use seduction as a tactic, provided that you do not willingly
allow either boy to bed you.� You still
belong to me.� Do not forget.�

I am willing to forgive your betrayal only
because you were unable to defend yourself adequately.� You will never
allow it to happen again.� In future, you
will consume nothing without first testing it for harmful content.� Even among so-called �friends�, you must never assume you are safe.�
The
disarray of emotions this produced was unsettling.� How could he.. just.. just.. tell her that he
owned her, like a bloody object?!�� And
using seduction against bloody Draco Malfoy
in order to collect hair that she didn�t even want and that he�d go ballistic
if he caught her trying to steal?!� And Harry??!� If she led Harry on now.. oh god.� It would make everything worse.�� This was like some kind of subconscious self
destructive impulse, surely?!� She was
seeking to punish herself for killing Lord Voldemort.�

And he did not own her.� She didn�t �belong� to him, damn it!� And he was dead!

..guilt..
This was
surely a product of her own sick mind.�
If she acted on this dream, she�d be fit for �Mungo�s, nevermind
Azkaban.� She would not attempt to �seduce� Draco or Harry or anyone else and she
would-
It
appeared that one could experience a rather convincing facsimile of the
Cruciatus curse while in a dream.� She
would never have believed it had she not been screaming and twisting in pain.
The curse
was removed and she cracked her eyes open to an icy crimson glare.�

�As I said.� You are unreliable, Hermione.� Your
unwillingness to give me your trust and to obey without question has caused me
more inconvenience than you can possibly comprehend.�

I promised you only one further
opportunity to redeem yourself.� This was to be merely a very small
test.. -neither complicated nor demanding.�
A tiny gesture of your faith..

You did, after all, fall upon me with tearful apologies and pleas... You
claimed to regret your disobedience.. to wish my return...�
�No!!
please I didn�t mean to.. I wasn�t..� I�m
sorry � I�ll..�� She swallowed, afraid
and feeling foolish for promising to do something based upon a dream �I�ll..
I�ll try to do it, ok? I�ll try. I�m
not unreliable.� I�m not!� I�ll..� wait.. am I supposed to hang the door here?!�
Can I trust Draco at all?!� Only..
I can�t live at Grimmauld place anymore and.. and.. I have the feeling Draco is
going to make it difficult for me to leave.�
I probably shouldn�t have come here I gue-�
She tried
to cling as Lord Voldemort pulled away but he drew away and turned, slipping
out of the bed in the darkness and striding away toward the bookshelves.
�Enough.� Show me your obedience and we will talk
further.� In the interim - you are to
remain at Malfoy Manor.� Do not trust Draco.� Remain alert and take the opportunities he
offers, but do not feel compelled to repay his kindnesses.� You are not a Slytherin, Hermione � you are
not expected to repay favours with favours.��

He reached the bookcase and gestured, opening it to the dark back room and
gliding within; a pale figure in the unbroken black.� His voice drifted out to her.

�And take care in your travels outside the Manor, Hermione - a number of my
former servants will be seeking you.� Do
not let your guard slip.�
�I know�
she mumbled unhappily.� �I killed one of
them yesterday.� Am I supposed to kill
them if I come across them?� I mean..
well.. assuming this isn�t just a dream and i�m not going mad � if it�s really you
and you might be able to come back � if I kill your servants then it�s going to
weaken you!� The ministry has already
arrested most of them and quite a few died in the final days.�� What I mean is.. well.. what do you want me
to do?!� And.. and what do I do if anyone
finds out about the door....or even gets through it somehow?!

....

M-My Lord?�
She
listened.� Everything was still and quiet
in the darkness.�
�My Lord??!�
she called again with an uncertain quavering tone.� Something in the atmosphere had changed.� She felt the hairs on the back of her neck
stand up.�
The
doorway to the storage room was a rectangle of deeper black.
�Master??!� she tried with a tight high
voice.� Silence answered.�

Had he gone?� Was there another door in
there?� Was she meant to follow?
Swallowing,
realising that the dream was not ending and that she had to do something, she
slid her legs out from under the covers, sitting up carefully, her eyes wide
and fixed on the doorway.� The floor was
cold against her bare feet and felt dusty..gritty...� She tried to tug the sheet out of the bed to
wrap around herself but it refused to come loose.�

Giving up, she stood, wrapping her arms around her middle, feeling vulnerable
in her nakedness, and padded cautiously toward the open doorway to the storage
room.

She tried to peer in and managed to make out the vague undefined impression of
rows of shelves with items ranged upon them.�
Bottles, packets, other things she couldn�t identify.�

Treading over the threshold she was shocked to find the �storage� room extended
off into the distance, fading into absolute darkness.� The shelves went on and on.� She couldn�t make out any faint figure that
might be the Dark Lord.
Something
moved in the corner of her eye and she turned her head quickly, trying to catch
it.� There was nothing.� The shadows of the bed, the wall, the
desk..� nothing..
Turning
her head back to the distant blackness in the depths of the storage room she
heard something.� It was so faint that
she would have missed it if it hadn�t been for the unnatural silence all
around.

It was a caught breath.� Someone else�s
breath.� She couldn�t make out which
direction it came from.�

It could be Lord Voldemort.� Perhaps he
was still here.
She
didn�t think it was though. The dream started to feel ominous.. the sensation
she recognised too well from a nightmare that was about to start.�� Her heart beat faster in her chest and she
had the almost irresistible urge to run as fast as she could down the dark
corridor before her, away from whatever was hiding in the room behind her,
remaining still and quiet.. waiting for her.
Hermione�s
feet knew her decision before she did.�
She broke into a run into the darkness ahead.
Immediately
she could hear the sound of someone pursuing, boots crunching against the stone
as they ran.� Trying to turn and see who
it was would be asking to trip and fall.�
One always tripped and fell in dreams.��

The ground became more uneven underfoot, littered with unseen debris.� She stumbled and yelped out as her soft soles
tore on sharp stones and what felt like broken glass, and still she ran.�

With her breath burning in her lungs and white spots blinking before her eyes
she could hear her pursuer close at her heels, their breath soft and even and
somehow eager.
If she
didn�t stop running soon, she was going to collapse.� She couldn�t breathe.� Her limbs felt like lead.
Just a
dream!� It was just a dream!� She needed to wake herself up.� Nothing could happen to her � it was just a
dream!
The laugh
chilled her blood to ice in her veins.�
She knew that laugh.� She would
never forget that laugh.� That high
pitched, insane cackle.
Bellatrix.��

She had never suffered under the demented witch�s wand, but she had watched her
destroy others more often than she could recall.� Bellatrix was vicious.. creative..
sadistic..� completely bloody insane!
�Coming
to get you, Mudblood�

The singsong taunt seemed to be mere metres behind.. so close.. closer than
she�d thought.�� Hermione managed to
find another spurt of energy.� She reached
for the shelves to either side and tossed jars behind her blindly.� This only resulted in further deranged
laughter from behind her.�
The sharp
pain sliced into her, even as it threw her forward like a ragdoll.� She cried out in pain and landed hard on her
stomach, her arms bracing below her face, sliding in a long grazing scuff with
the momentum of her movement.� Before
she�d even stopped moving she could feel hot thick liquid drizzling down her
bare back from the cut.�

She remained face down and closed her eyes, waiting for Bellatrix to continue
what she had started.� No more games..
The witch would take her apart now, as she�d seen her take apart men, women and
children.�

Bellatrix Lestrange had taunted her mildly when she was a caged oddity, but the
witch was rabidly loyal and devoted
to the Dark Lord.� Death would be too
good for Hermione if Bellatrix had any reason to hold her responsible for the Dark
Lord�s death.�

In fact � merely surviving when He had been defeated would be insult enough, in
all probability.

This was her guilty conscience rewarding her for what she had done.

Either that or it was the Dark Lord�s gentle chiding punishment.� That is...If this was anything more than a
normal, if extremely detailed lucid dream..
The
seconds stretched on into silent minutes and Hermione opened her eyes, half
expecting the curse to fall in the moment she turned.
Warm
yellow light met her eyes, reflected from a floor that was suddenly,
incongruently, smooth buttery polished wood.
She
gasped and pushed up from her cowering posture, automatically flinching against
a wound that was no longer there.� No..
pulling herself to her feet and spinning in a confused circle, she took in the
empty corridor around her.� Its walls
were papered richly in pale emerald and black diamonds.� Decorative candlesticks hovered near the
walls at regular intervals, stretching off into the distance in one direction,
turning a corner then to the right.� In
the other direction a few metres ahead there was a closed door.
It seemed
to beckon.� She had the instinctive
feeling that she was supposed to go and open it.
She
wanted to wake up now!� NOW!!�
She�d had just about enough of this dream.� Behind that door could be anything and as
good as it had been to see her former captor, it had been painful in more than
one way.� Furthermore � having escaped Bellatrix,
she really had no particular wish to possibly be tossed into a dungeon with
Fenrir Greyback or perhaps Bromley Chaldean � the Death eater she�d just killed
only hours ago.�

Folding her arms around herself and steeling her brow, she decided that she
would not move from this spot.� She would wake
up!!.�
As if the
thought had set off a chain reaction, at the far end of the corridor a shadow
flicked across the wall.�� The floating
candlestick around the corner had just extinguished itself apparently.
She
wasn�t foolish enough not to see this as a warning.�� Her face fell in dismay and she shifted on
her feet nervously.
The
farthest visible candle went out, plunging the end of the corridor into deep
shadows.
Nervously,
she backed up a step toward the door.
The next
candle went out.� The corridor
disappeared into darkness now.
Hermione
swallowed against a throat that was suddenly dry and sore.� Her imagination was manufacturing all manner
of horrible things that might now come out of that darkness for her, the least
of them being the twisted, sadistic Bellatrix Lestrange.� Really � that would probably be a kind
horror.� It could be the bodies of all those she�d killed resurrected as
inferi.
Another
light doused itself as the darkness marched up the hallway toward her
slowly.� It was followed rather more
swiftly by the next and there were only two more between her and the dark now.
Shivering
and full of dread she made her choice even as the next candle guttered and
died.� Turning quickly she hurried to the
door and twisted the handle.�
Although
the handle turned, the door was immoveable and now the candles behind her were
quickly going out one after another.� She
whimpered and threw herself into the door in mounting panic, twisting the
handle and muttering pleas under her breath for it to open.�
Just as
the last candle beside her sputtered and hissed out and the cold black gushed
up and swallowed her, the door finally gave,
spilling inward.� In the half second
of unbalanced falling as she tumbled forward onto the floor inside the room,
she felt chill clammy fingers touch her.. an unknown questing hand in the dark
that strafed over the bare skin of her back before she was torn away by
gravity.

There wasn�t even time to shriek at the repulsive sensation.� She twisted on the floor wildly, turning and
dragging herself back from the doorway, trying to ready herself to fight back
against whatever it was.
There was
a slam as the door closed and then it seemed that the entire scene shifted as
if a light had been switched on.
A light had been switched on, but it was more
than mere light that had snapped into being around her.� The room she was in, the atmosphere,
everything was changed�

And she too had been altered, she realised, glancing down at her own splayed
form on the wooden boards.� Soft silvery
waves covered her legs haphazardly.. the silk of the dress askew with her odd
position.�
But that
was not the main focus of her shock and curiosity.
No.� that
was held by the figure seated across the room at a desk, its back to her as it
wrote.��
The tall,
high backed wooden chair looked familiar...as did the desk with its array of
parchments and texts piled and overlapping in a half circle like eager children
clustered around a puppy -� However the
figure seated at the desk did not fit
the picture.� Far from the smooth inhuman white of the Dark
Lord�s hairless skull, glossy black hair cascaded to the wizard�s shoulders in
waves.�
Uneasily,
she pulled herself to her feet and ventured tentatively closer, her eyes taking
in the rest of the room cautiously while keeping the unknown wizard in her
sights.��

It was quite an attractive room, she thought.�
It reminded her a little of the small study that Draco had brought her
back to earlier that evening.� The room
was cosy, masculine and entirely dominated by bookshelves and reference
objects.�

This was a place of work and quiet contemplation.� She could almost taste the focus brought to
bear here.
A small
fireplace glowed softly � mere embers and ash filling its grate now.�� The soft scritch scritch of a quill on
parchment lulled her senses, even though she wanted to remain on edge.
Moving
close to the seated figure now, she stepped slightly to the right, angling
herself as she neared so that she might catch a glimpse of the man�s face.

When she did, it stole her breath and stopped her cold.

Even if she had never seen it before in her life � she knew that that was what Voldemort�s face had
looked like before he had encountered Harry on that fateful night .�� It was different.. but.. it was
unmistakeably his face.� Him.�
The Dark Lord.��

A man seemingly in his mid thirties, he had a rather strong roman nose and his
lips were full and dark.��
She
jumped away in horror as dark blue eyes flicked up from the parchment he was
working on and caught her own gaze.� She
had somehow imagined that she was just a silent observer here.�

His soft amused smile made it obvious that that
wasn�t the case.�
�Ah my
dear, is it so late?� I lose all sense of
time in here, as usual.��
He turned
back to his work and frowned faintly, leaning back and pulling a mildly
frustrated grimace before tossing the quill down onto the parchment in
exasperation and stretching his arms above him, eyes closed and a yawn pulling
at his jaw.� With fascination, Hermione
watched him roll his shoulders and crick his neck before leaning back in his
chair once more and then turning to her.
�Why are
you so far away?� Come here.� I am quite tired this evening however in that
dress you look good enough to eat � and I believe I may find some reserves of
strength purely for that purpose�

A wolfish smirk played at the corners of the familiar unfamiliar mouth and Hermione
blinked in a sudden clash of different emotions within her chest.�� Bittersweet yearning was chief among them.

Why couldn�t it have been like this?� Why
couldn�t he have been a wizard she�d met.. a normal man.. someone with whom any
future might not contain a cage.��

She padded closer silently, her eyes devouring the planes of his face, the
lines of his body as he pushed the chair back further from the desk, opening
himself to her and offering a hand to take her own and guide her onto his lap.�

Hermione didn�t require further convincing.�
With hope only that the dream didn�t end here, she moved to sit astride
him on the chair, feeling the strange warm familiarity of his hands as his arms
moved to enfold her.�

The expression on his face was one of anticipation of something both well known
and highly desirable.� Dark blue eyes
glittered as he pulled her more snugly against him and she felt the faint
hardening beneath her bottom.�
�Do you
know.. � he murmured, seemingly musing aloud �I believe I should not achieve
nearly as much each day if I were not pushed to do so out of sheer impatience
to be free to return to you.�
She
blinked in shock, unresisting as she was dragged closer and her mouth
thoroughly plundered by the not-quite-Dark-Lord.� It was so different with lips.. softer.. his
tongue was warmer, the slick muscle stroking her own in a manner that pulled
the groan from her throat automatically.�
She felt his hands smoothing over her back, gripping and stroking.�� The faint growl of her zip being lowered
only heated her blood further.
�What are
you doing?�
The small
high curious voice emanated from somewhere near her knee, she registered
vaguely through a mind mazed by lust.�� A
moment later she was released from the kiss and found herself swaying and
looking hazily at the man before her � who was inspecting her flushed, excited
disorientation with dark-satisfaction written all over his gorgeous face. She
shook her head slightly, trying to clear the feeling of near intoxication his
touch and kiss had evoked, and turned her head, looking for the source of the
new voice that had interrupted them.�
When she located the speaker, she blinked at him in disturbed
confusion.�� Her mind was offering
rational explanations which were, despite their logic, utterly preposterous all
the same.
�We were
engaging in a recreational practice common between bonded pairs, Antioch.� The
wizard holding her explained matter of factly in a voice that sounded placid
and even faintly amused.� �For such
individuals, the activity is associated with increased health and improved
vitality.� It also operates to strengthen
and reinforce the bond and harmonise the pair�s magic.� Should you not be in bed sleeping now?�
Hermione
hardly registered the response of the man who, she was quite certain, was the Dark Lord Voldemort.� Her world had reduced itself to the
diminutive figure currently standing by their side, clutching a large stuffed
snake made of soft green leather under one arm and looking up at them both with
a politely curious expression in his wide blue eyes.�

The child couldn�t have been more than three or four.� His manner was peculiarly serious and
composed for his age.�

The resemblance was unmistakeable between the tiny angelic little face with its
cloud of black hair and the older wizard upon whose lap she still rested.
�I was in bed sleeping but I woke up� the
child informed helpfully.� �I wondered
what you and mummy might be doing�
Mummy.
Hermione
thought her heart might have stopped.� It
seemed that some cruel prankster had removed all the air from the room without
warning.
It was at
that moment that the bizarre dream
finally released her.� With a gasp, Hermione
jolted awake to find herself lying in an unfamiliar and opulent bedroom, warm
yellow light slipping into the room around heavy drapes.� Her heart was pounding as if she had just run
a race and her mouth felt like she had been stuffed with cotton wool.� Licking her dry lips uncomfortably as she
caught her breath and tried to calm down, the dream replayed itself in her
memory disconcertingly.��

Had it all been the product of her overstressed mind?� Was it just her subconscious� way of
processing the awful things that had gone before.

Perhaps some of it, she considered.� The
last part, certainly.� She doubted that Voldemort
would ever want to place thoughts like that
in her mind.�

But the first part?��

That had been so real.. her nerves felt slightly jangly from the dream
cruciatus.�

Was she really going to risk her own safety by alienating her only two allies
right now following instructions gained in a dream?� Probably a potions-addled dream at that, she
added to herself cynically
She
snorted softly and rolled her eyes.�

No.� Voldemort was dead and as much as
she might wish it were not the case,
she had seen him decapitated.� Harry had told her that he was really and
truly dead.
Course..
the idea her subconscious had come up with for the burnt door she�d
inherited... that was perhaps not so daft.�
It would be a good idea to maybe find a place to hang the door and see
if her mind had somehow made the connection without the intervention of her
higher thought processes.
She was
still speculating on where and how this might best be achieved when the house
elf popped into the room beaming joyfully and levitating an ornate silver tray
with breakfast.
The
bright smile on the little grey wrinkled face faded almost at once and was
replaced with worry and fear.

�Oh!� Oh missy has hurt herself.� Oh oh oh dear!� Topaz will tell master to gets a healer at
once!�

The upset little creature snapped away without a moment�s hesitation, leaving Hermione
frowning at the empty space and still-hovering tray of breakfast.

Slow suspicion dawning in her mind, she slipped to the edge of the bed, taking
only a second to wonder who had changed her into the white cotton night gown
she wore and tucked her into bed when she clearly remembered passing out, fully
dressed, on top of the coverlet.�

When she reached the mirror in the bathroom she experienced the horrible vague
sinking satisfaction of being right about something one wanted to be wrong
about.
The dark
bruises glaring starkly on the flesh of her throat were unmistakeably left by a
hand.�

A large hand, she observed dully,
placing her own over it.� There was no
way that she could possibly have done this to herself.
She had
until the next new moon to complete the task set her.
Harry was
wrong. �

The Dark Lord was not dead.� He was not
even powerless, if this dream was anything to go by.�

He wanted her to help him return.
Could she
really do that?� �Should� wasn�t even a
word she wanted to consider.� Of course
she shouldn�t � he was the bloody Dark Lord Voldemort.�

Could she live with herself if she didn�t though?

Hell, could she even survive if she
didn�t?� A mild rebuff in a dream had
left her with bruises and fading nerve damage � what else might her former
Master decide to do if she proved reluctant to follow through on her assurance
of obedience?!
Grimacing,
she turned on the balls of her feet and stalked back to the bedroom to retrieve
her wand.� The last thing she needed was questions about how a blasted handprint found its way onto her throat
while she slept.� If Draco didn�t grill
her about it then the healers at St Mungo�s definitely would.�

There was definitely a lot more to worry about now than aurors, Azkaban and
public opinion.

Author note.
Review replies can be found at
http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/18725-review-replies/
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