Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Shared Flame	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 58981 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make any money writing this.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Hello there! New chapter! As always, I want to thank Nerys and Serpent in Red for betaing, and everyone for reading and reviewing.

WARNING! Smut and torture. Don’t like it? Definitely don’t read this.

Chapter 17
Hermione couldn’t sleep that night. Part of it was because she was thinking. Or rather, worrying. She ignored the other part which was aching for another body next to hers. Voldemort had almost strangled her! She would not go to him just because she felt a bit lonely. Instead, after two hours of tossing and turning, she got up to get something to read. She needed to get away from all thoughts of Voldemort, even though she knew she had to come up with some sort of a plan to deal with him. The way things were now wouldn’t work for long. Like he had said, the balance was too fragile. Perhaps they should just … pretend they had never met and would never meet again?
She was quite certain he wouldn’t allow that. Neither did she think she could stand the thought of never seeing him again. It would feel like losing a part of herself. Besides, it wasn’t like she could ever find a man as interesting and arousing as Voldemort. But to what cost?
Exhaustion and desperation made her cry again, blurring the text in front of her. She threw the book away, but the moment she heard it hit the floor, she felt a sting of guilt for treating a book that way. Rising, she retrieved it and made sure no pages had been bent before replacing it on the bookshelf.
Then, she spun around and kicked the armchair. Merlin’s socks! She hated him. She hated him so much!
“Expulso!”
The coffee table exploded into a million pieces, leaving her feeling slightly calmer. She sank down in the armchair, staring unseeingly out the window behind the couch.
After several hours, exhaustion alone made her fall into an uneasy sleep.

xxx

Voldemort couldn’t sleep. He had no idea why. Or, at least, no idea that he cared to explore further. Because it couldn’t have anything to do with Hermione. And if it did have to do with Hermione, it had to be because he hadn’t got the “goodnight” fuck he was used to. Nothing else. He did not miss her warm body next to him. That was ridiculous.
When he realised sleep wouldn’t come, he stood up again. Perhaps reading would calm his mind? He picked a book at random and sank down on his couch (which, for some reason, wasn’t nearly as comfortable as Hermione’s). However, even though his eyes read the words, his mind didn’t connect to them. Instead, he kept trying to figure out what on earth he would do with her.
Hermione Granger.
When he’d first heard her name, he’d never guessed how important she would become to him. He had just seen her as a Mudblood and Potter’s friend. Two things that would, in the end, result in the same thing: death. Now, he could hardly go a night without fucking her.
Anger overwhelming him, he threw the book away. Then, he realised that it was a first edition of Qumblie. With a grimace, he rose to retrieve it. After making sure no page had been bent, he replaced it on the bookshelf. He stroked the back of the old book and sighed. There would be no use taking his anger out on invaluable books. Perhaps some Muggle-hunting was in order? Sighing, he Apparated away, hoping that the floating blood of filthy, useless creatures would calm him.
It didn’t.
He was in a foul mood when he entered the classroom at ten the next morning. His eyes travelled around the classroom, noting that Hermione wasn’t there. Avoiding him or …?
The door flew open, revealing a stressed Hermione, looking like she had just stepped out of bed. It seemed like someone else had got a restless night. Good. She didn’t deserve any sleep considering the unease she had caused him.
“Sorry, sir,” she muttered before taking a place next to the Cole girl she always sat with.
He pretended not to notice her and looked around the classroom again.
“Good morning. First, I must inform you that there will be a slight change in schedule this week and the next. I’ve been called away, and instead, Professor Sherwood will be holding the lectures. On Thursday, she will also hand out next week’s assignment, and it has to be handed in two weeks from this Friday.” He waited a few minutes as the students wrote it down. “Now, today’s lecture will be about Xioa’s Transfiguration Polarisation.”
Two hours later, he Apparated back to his flat and packed the last of his belongings. The island the conference was held on was Unplottable. No Muggles could ever find it, and few wizards were allowed to know its location. In other words, an excellent, exclusive, wizarding holiday place. Especially now, when summer had just begun down there. Perhaps he should find some sunscreen?
He snorted. Like he would have time to sunbath. No, he was starting to feel tired. Finally. And travelling across the world would, no doubt, make him even more tired. Therefore, best to leave now, check in and get at least a half night of decent sleep. Since it was noon now in England, it would be eleven p.m. at the Cook Islands, thus, perfect time to go to bed.
His backpack packed, he shrunk it and put it in the pocket of his robe. He would have to go to Cox-Trotter to get the specific location to the place. Apparently, that was something of a secret as well. Perhaps he wouldn’t even get to Apparate. Cox-Trotter had only told him to come to her office before departure.
Well, he wouldn’t find out until he was there. Hence, he left his flat and locked the door. Alas, he hadn’t even taken two steps when Hermione appeared in the stairway. A very uncharacteristic loss of knowing what to do occurred to him. He stopped, right outside the door to her flat. When she spotted him, she stopped as well.
He collected his senses first. “Hermione,” he greeted and started to walk again. “Do remember to do what I told you while I am away.”
It was rather amusing watching the anger rise on her face.
“You know what? Don’t come back,” she hissed.
In three longs steps, she had walked past him, reached the door and entered before he had time to reply. He stared after her, wondering if he should talk some sense into her before he left. However, he had no idea what to say. Strange.
Sighing, he continued to walk instead. Two weeks away from her was probably just what he needed to regain his senses again. Then, he would come back and remind her of her place.

xxx

The days after Voldemort’s departure were difficult, to say the least. Hermione didn’t remember ever being so restless before. She still had no idea what to do about him, and it didn’t help that Althea reminded her of him all the time by asking about him. By Friday, Hermione was almost tearing her hair out over the angst inside her. Hence, when Victoria asked her if she wanted to join her to a party, Hermione jumped to the occasion of having something else on her mind for a few hours. She arranged with Miss Cooper to stay during the night by paying twice as much. At seven, she went to Victoria’s dorm dressed in something she hoped would do for a party.
Victoria took one critical look at her before pulling Hermione into her bedroom with a determined expression.
“What’s wrong with it?” Hermione asked nervously as Victoria started to look around in her drawers.
“Seriously, Hermione? It looks like something my grandmother would wear. The clothes you wear in class are sexier!” Victoria held up a very short, purple dress and held it against Hermione’s body. Thankfully, she threw it away before Hermione had time to protest.
“I haven’t really been to these sorts of parties before,” Hermione mumbled, feeling a bit ashamed over her inexperience.
The feeling only increased when Victoria stared at her in disbelief. “Seriously? Don’t they have parties in Australia?”
“I suppose they do, but, well, I had Althea and …” She didn’t want to say “no friend” but Victoria’s look of sympathy told Hermione she got that as well.
“Well, then it’s about time to get rid of that virginity!” she said in a much too chipper tone. “And you’ll do your debut in style!”
Hermione’s eyes widened when Victoria threw her a knee-length, blue dress. She tried to protest, but Victoria would hear none of it and actually started to unbutton Hermione’s shirt for her.
Half an hour later, she was clad in the dress and got new make-up on as well. Her hair was in some sort of messy bun at the back of her head, which Victoria described as “sexy”. Hermione did think she looked quite nice, but felt rather uncomfortable with her breasts being pushed together by the body of the dress. Also, the thin material and short sleeves would probably make her freeze like hell.
“Relax, the party is just in the other building. If you leave your clothes here, you’ll be able to pick them up on your way home. Or, if you hook up some cute boy, I’m sure he will lend you his robe.” Victoria winked when Hermione pointed out the cold factor.
Admitting defeat (not that she fought so hard), Hermione nodded and followed Victoria out of the room. Once at the party, Victoria persuaded Hermione to take a little wine “to relax and get warm”. Hermione, wanting to push all thoughts of Voldemort as far away from her mind as possible, willingly agreed.
Apparently, the undergraduate holding the party was Muggle-born and had managed to transfigure a CD-player to work in the building. He boasted over the fact that he had all the latest music in the Muggle world and got them all dancing to something called “The Ketchup Song”.
Hermione ended up having a really good time, even though she did drink more than she should. She even got to turn down an undergraduate before she went home at midnight.
After paying the babysitter and taking a shower, Hermione managed to get a full night’s sleep for the first time that week.

xxx

The conference was clearly overrated, Voldemort thought as he mingled around in the great garden that would have turned Narcissa Malfoy green in envy. Some of the guests were interesting enough, but most were too cooped up in their own world of academics to be of use to him. If he wanted their knowledge for some reason, he could just as well read their books. However, the few that could be recruited for his usage were indeed some of the best in their subject, and thus, the stay wasn’t completely useless.
“Professor Foster!”
He looked to his side and found one of his colleagues from Oxford standing there. “Professor Hannigan, what a pleasant surprise. I haven’t seen you here before. Did you arrive late?”
“Yes, I had some things to take care of at first. I came here last night,” the red-haired witch replied with a smile and drank a bit of champagne from the glass she was holding. “It is just so strange to finally be here. I’ve heard so much about it. Although I hadn’t expected the honour to be given to me until I had passed my sixties!”
Voldemort smiled and sipped from his own glass. She was fifty-nine. Although, he wasn’t surprised that she had been invited. Even though she was still young by Oxford Professors standard, she was a powerful and ambitious witch. Especially in her own field.
“However, I do think people have been overselling it,” Hannigan continued, looking around to make sure no one heard her. “All they seem to do is chatting. Don’t get me wrong. You know me, I do love to chat about various academic subjects and problems, and everyone here is utterly brilliant at what they do … but I don’t know. I had just pictured something different. More exciting.”
Voldemort completely agreed with her. Every day, there were numerous different presentations on various subjects. Most of them were useless, but just as there were some interesting people, there were some interesting discussions which he found enjoyable to attend to.
“Oh, Master Nabelius is here as well,” Hannigan groaned in a low voice when two elderly wizards went by them a few yards away.
Voldemort arched an eyebrow at her, and when she saw it, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t look so surprised, Foster. You know what he is like.”
“An arrogant male chauvinist? No, never noticed that.”
Hannigan laughed. It reminded him of Hermione, and he felt a slight tingling in his groin. Damn it. Every night, he had to masturbate if he wanted to be able to sleep. Yet, it didn’t get him the magic he was used to collecting from her.
“Have I missed anything good this week?” Hannigan asked, getting his attention again.
“I guess that depends on where your interest lies. I found the presentation held by Professor Perrón very stimulating. I hadn’t really considered mixing Potions and Transfiguration the way she does.”
Hannigan grimaced. “I can’t stand Potions, I’m afraid. All those entrails and other nasty substances … sorry, just can’t stand it.”
He snorted. “I can’t blame you. What do you fancy then?”
“Charms, obviously,” she said with a grin. “However, I was at a very interesting lecture this morning called ‘Power of Love’. You weren’t there?”
“No, I needed some sleep after last night’s Astrology speculations,” he lied. The fact was that he had found the subject completely ludicrous. Obviously.
“Too bad, it held many things I hadn’t considered before. It had never occurred to me that Soul Mates could be anything but silly romantic fantasies.”
Voldemort, who had just taken a sip from his glass, started to cough. “Soul Mates? What has that to do with the power of love?”
“Wulandari, the speaker, admitted that the title was a bit commercial, but the research she put forward was very thoroughly done. The consensus was that people can commit bonds to each other, and these bonds are very strong and can generate a lot of power. She called people with these sorts of connections ‘Soul Mates’ since they seemed to be bonded at the very core of their personalities.”
Voldemort just stared at her for a few moments. “What about the power then?”
“She didn’t really have time to go into it, but it seemed to be magical power.”
“Wulandari,” Voldemort muttered. “She hasn’t been here earlier this week, has she?”
“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t seen her. Why?”
“I just don’t recognise her name,” he replied, his mind working furiously. He had to find a way to speak with this woman. “Perhaps I’ll have the chance to meet her later.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t think she planned to stay long. On my way out, I overheard her talking to the maitre about a boat that was supposed to pick her up after the feast here.”
“What a pity.”
Just so it wouldn’t look suspicious, he continued to talk with Hannigan a few more minutes before introducing her to another Charms Professor he had met. Then, he could excuse himself without being rude.
Once he was out of sight, he started to look around in the great garden for any face he didn’t recognise. It was still light enough for him to quickly determine that she wasn’t there. Had she already left? Perhaps he should go and ask when the boat was due. Some wizards who didn’t like Portkeys had taken the Floo or some other means of transportation to an island nearby. From there, they were transported by boat. However, he thought all of the ones who had come by boat would stay during the whole conference, which meant there was most likely only one boat due tonight.
He reached the reception, and a tall, black wizard informed him that the boat was due in just twenty minutes. Voldemort concluded that Wulandari would be waiting by the dock or soon be there. Therefore, he hurried outside.
The conference was held in a great mansion and the garden was in the back of it. The dock, however, lay at the other side of the big building. It wasn’t big; a small terrace lead from the entrance of the hotel to a stairway of stone which lead down to the dock a few yards away. When Voldemort came out, he couldn’t see anyone there. The only sound came from the water hitting the shore. Should he sit down and wait?
Turning around to walk in again, he saw an old woman with dark skin and long silver hair look at him curiously. She was sitting right next to the door, and he hadn’t seen her in his hurry to go outside.
“Hello,” he greeted.
“Hello there.”
Thinking up a plan as he went along, he asked, “Have you by any chance seen a short brunette walking by here? Long, frizzy hair?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” The old woman seemed rather amused.
“Oh.” He looked at the bench she was sitting on. “Do you mind if I wait here for her? I’m sure she will come by shortly.”
“Be my guest.”
He sat down. “I’m Marcus Foster by the way. From Oxford.” He offered his hand.
She took it. “Nice to meet you, Marcus Foster.” Why was she looking so darn amused? “I am Wulandari.”
“Oh, really?” he asked, faking surprise. “I heard your lecture was very interesting. Sorry I missed it.”
She chuckled. “I did not except many to be there. Especially not young men like yourself who have no appreciation for the power of love.”
If Voldemort had been anyone but himself, he might have blushed. Hence, he faked a blush. “Er … yes. But that was because I didn’t realise you would be talking about Soul Mates. That is a very interesting topic indeed.”
“It is.”
He waited for her to say something else. When she didn’t, he pressed on. “Of course, as I’ve understood, Soul Mates don’t have anything to do with love, or the soul for that matter.”
Wulandari arched one of her grey eyebrows. “You seem well-informed for an European, Mr Foster.”
“Mysteries have always interested me,” Voldemort confessed. “However, it was Plato that came up with the term ‘Soul Mate’. That doesn’t necessarily mean it has something to do with the soul.”
“You are clever, Mr Foster. In my tongue, we call the ones with such a connection ‘Magic Mates’,” she said.
“Magic Mates?” Voldemort asked, very interested. “You mean the connection lies in the couple’s magic?”
“Yes. However, you are mistaken if you think love doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
Voldemort managed to hold back a snort. “Oh?” he asked instead, politely.
“Two people cannot be bound together so intimately without starting to love each other,” Wulandari said, sounding very confident.
Voldemort had to work even harder not to snort. No magic in the world could make him fall for something as stupid as love.
“My boat is here.”
The woman stood up, and Voldemort saw that there was indeed a boat coming towards the shore. It was moving almost soundlessly over the water.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr Foster. I hope you find your frizzy, brown-haired witch.”
With those words, she made her way down to the dock. Voldemort stayed seated. Magic Mates. Yes, that explained a lot. Like why he and Hermione felt pleasure when they cast the Cruciatus Curse at each other, despite the fact that the curse was painful. The magic ran everywhere in the body. That must be why they felt pleasure when they were touching. This explanation also made Dumbledore’s reincarnation theory and Plato’s term “Soul Mates” appear even more obsolete. However, it didn’t explain why there was a connection between their magic to begin with. There had to be some reason for that. Connections didn’t just appear out of nowhere.
Voldemort stayed on the bench long that night, thinking as he watched the waves come and go.

xxx

The days after the party, Hermione became more and more secure in herself. She spent time with Ginny and Harry, studied with Victoria and went to classes. This was what she wanted to do in her life right now. Be with friends and study. Not having some twisted relationship with a sociopathic megalomaniac. Hence, she started to think of a plan on how she could make him see that as well. She knew it wouldn’t work if she just pointed out that she was uncomfortable with him. Somehow, she had to make it seem like he benefited from staying away from her. Surely he must have better things to do? Try to take over the world again or something like that?
Hm. She probably shouldn’t encourage that. Oh well, she would think about something when she saw him. Until then, she wouldn’t worry, but enjoy her time alone. Or well, she was never truly alone. Althea was always there. However, Hermione found her daughter a rather soothing companion. Althea was very easily distracted if Hermione wanted to spend time alone with her books. However, if Hermione needed a distraction, Althea was a very amusing one to have.
Nevertheless, there were times when Hermione was torn between her responsibilities as a mother and her own wishes. School had always been one of those things where Althea just didn’t fit in. Now Hermione also realised how tricky it could be to spend quality time with friends when she had to take Althea into consideration.
During the Thursday class, Victoria begged Hermione to come to yet another party. Since Hermione had had such a good time last week, she felt eager to do it again. It had been a very relaxed and unforced environment, not at all like the parties people had had in the Gryffindor Tower. No one had looked at her strangely when she had mentioned the Hofken’s paradox. Half of the people had been just as nerdy as she was. It had been fun.
However, she couldn’t and wouldn’t leave Althea alone, and Miss Cooper had already said she wasn’t available. Hence, she declined. Victoria sighed and said that if anything would change, Hermione was more than welcomed.
Thursday night, Ginny and Luna came over for dinner. In the passing, Hermione mentioned the party and the reason why she couldn’t go.
“I can watch her!” Ginny said enthusiastically. “You really need to get out more, Hermione. It’s not good for you to stay locked up with a book all the time. And Althea and I really get along.”
Hermione arched an eyebrow. Over the past weeks, Ginny had asked a lot about “Marcus”. Even though she didn’t know who he really was, Ginny just didn’t seem to trust him. Now Hermione got the feeling Ginny was trying to sway her interest to someone else. However, wasn’t that what Hermione was trying to do as well? She smiled.
“Fine, if that’s what you want. Do you want to stay at my place or …?”
“I can stay here, if that’s best for Althea.”
Said and done.
Saturday night, Ginny came over to Hermione’s flat at six. They ate dinner together, and Hermione explained to Althea that Ginny was there to play with her. Althea watched Ginny with mild curiosity and then nodded. Hermione relaxed. Even though Althea had seemed to like Ginny during their visits at the Burrow, Hermione had been worried Althea wouldn’t have wanted to be alone with Ginny. Apparently, her worries had been superfluous.
Victoria (who Hermione had owled with the happy news) awaited her arrival at eight, and this time, Hermione didn’t even bother to dress up before going. However, she did let Ginny put on the make-up, something the younger woman confessed to have wanted to do for years. Ginny even managed to tame her hair somewhat and place it in a braid.
The green dress waiting for her at Victoria’s was nice and thankfully much more modest than what the other brunette was wearing.
“Don’t you plan to wear anything over that?” Hermione asked. The jeans were all fine and well, but for the top, the other woman had a corset. Not the tight versions from back-in-the-days, but a more breathable version.
“Nah, I plan to get a shag tonight, and these two will help me do just that,” she replied cheekily and pointed at her breasts which were pushed together and seemed about to spill out from the corset. Hermione had no doubt Victoria would get some poor boy on the hook.
“Okay then,” Hermione answered with a sigh and straightened the knee-length skirt. She was starting to get nervous. As opposed to last week, she hadn’t had anything to drink yet. Not drinking kept her shy.
The party was in Victoria’s building, so the walk was short. Nevertheless, Hermione managed to question herself a couple of times before she got there. She wasn’t a party person and here she was, partying for the second time within two weeks!
Thankfully, the doubts started to lessen when she went inside and Victoria gave her a glass of some green substance which Hermione swallowed in one go. After that, things became much easier. When Victoria left her for some black-haired fellow, Hermione hardly noticed. She was having a great time with two male postgraduates. One of them, Peter Wood, was also in Transfiguration, but the other one, Henry (she hadn’t caught his last name), was in Charms. They were having a rather childish discussion about which subject was the best.
“But with Transfiguration, we can turn you into a ferret and bounce you around!” Hermione pointed out, giggling like mad.
“But with Shielding Spells, which we develop in Charms, I can stop you,” Henry replied sourly.
“Oh, oh, I got the best one!” Peter said from the other side of her, leaning closer to Henry. “With Transfiguration, we can change water into wine. And that, you can’t beat!”
Hermione laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach. They had already established that Peter was a pure-blood,and she doubted very highly he had heard the Muggles’ religious myth on the subject of turning water into wine. That was what made it so funny. She was about to point it out when another man, apparently a friend of Henry, came over and pulled at Henry’s arm.
“You just have to see this,” the other man said eagerly.
Grimacing at them, Henry left.
“I think we won,” Peter said with a chuckle in her ear.
Hermione turned slightly and looked up at him. They were sitting very close due to the narrow couch, but she hadn’t really noticed how warm his body was next to her. Even though it didn’t give her the same intense pleasure as Voldemort’s did, it was still rather nice. Hm … Peter had the same hair colour as Voldemort and almost the same body figure, with a bit more muscles. In her drunken mind and in the dim-lighted room, he almost looked like him. That thought made her sex tingle. She hadn’t even masturbated since Voldemort had left.
Hardly noticing it, she leaned a bit closer and the next thing she knew, she was snogging Peter. How had that happened? He didn’t taste at all like Voldemort, and his kiss was too soft and boring. Couldn’t he do anything with his lips? Oh, here came the tongue as well. Hermione did not care for that technique, so she withdrew.
Peter, however, seemed more than taken. He opened his eyes slowly and smiled at her. She gave an uncertain smile back. Should she give it another go or not? Perhaps she just had to get used to his way of kissing? Because she couldn’t go through life only wanting Voldemort. That was ridiculous. Hence, when Peter leaned in to kiss her again, she allowed it. She moved her hand up to his face and stroked it. His skin was uneven due to pimples. She moved up to his hair but quickly withdrew. It was all greasy because of some cream. She wiped it off on his shirt, pretending to stroke his arm.
His hand came down to her thigh, but when it started to crawl upwards, Hermione finally withdrew. He looked with uncertainty at her. Ugh, Voldemort would never look like that. He would just take her and make her breathless and … Oh, fuck. She must stop thinking about Voldemort that way. She did not like it when he dominated her like that. Not at all!
“Er, I’m just not sure how far I want to take this,” she said, embarrassed.
“Oh. Er, right. Yeah, I get that.” Peter bit his lip, which was slightly reddening from the kisses. “That’s cool. We can just, er, talk?”
Merlin, he was such a nice, young man. Clever and … somewhat cute. If she hadn’t met Voldemort, she would probably start dating him. Alas, now she just couldn’t get away from the fact that he was not Voldemort. He didn’t do it for her at all. The excitement she had felt before was gone. Should she continue or should she leave with what little dignity she had left?
Voldemort would be so gleeful when he found out he was the only one she was attracted to. She could see him in front of her and … No! She would not allow that! Merlin, she needed another drink if she were ever to manage to put Voldemort out of her mind.
“You know what? Why don’t we just have another glass of whatever this is?” Hermione made a gesture to the half-empty cups on the coffee table. “And then maybe we can snog some more.”
Peter seemed to like that idea very much, and he quickly got them two more glasses.
The guilt Hermione might have felt for using Peter to forget Voldemort was soon washed away by the alcohol. As was her better judgement.
“I think you have had a little too much to drink now,” Peter noted at two o’clock and removed the cup from her hand. “Why don’t I escort you home?”
Hermione giggled. “I’m Hermione Granger! I’ve done far scarier things than gone home alone at night.”
“Yeah, well, I’m more worried whether the great Hermione Granger will find her way home at all,” Peter commented and helped her stand up.
Hermione could see the logic in that, despite the fact that everything else in her mind was quite fuzzy. “Merlin’s beard, I don’t remember ever drinking this much ...”
Peter held his arm around her and led her out the dorm. “I think it’s something all students go through. Oh, watch out for the step there.”
It probably took a bit longer than usual to walk home, but once they had made it to the right building, Peter stopped.
“Oh, look, my door,” Hermione muttered, nodding at the door.
“Yeah … do you want me to make sure you get inside alright as well?”
Hermione thought he sounded hopeful. She smiled. “You are so cute.”
She leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was actually better than the others had been. Apparently, Peter had learned the way she liked to kiss. Or she was too drunk to remember what she liked. Either way, she was too caught up in the kiss to hear someone walk up behind Peter.
“I know I’m back in England when I find young people kissing at my doorpost,” came a dry comment from behind Peter. Hermione’s whole being froze.

xxx

The week after Voldemort’s meeting with Wulandari, not so many interesting things happened. Even though people were interested in him and his point of view of this and that (as they should), he just didn’t find the debates as interesting as he usually would. In his mind, he did map out who would be useful and for what, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was musing over what Wulandari had said and what it could mean for him and Hermione. Sometimes, he was just musing over what Hermione was wearing and what would be the best way for him to remove it.
When Sunday came, he was only expected to stay at the lunch. Hence, at three o’clock in the afternoon, he could go back home. Of course, it was the middle of the night in the UK, but he figured he could sit up and read for some time and take a nap when morning came.
The Portkey took him to the Apparation point of Oxford. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the crisp, autumn night air of England as he walked the fifteen minutes it took to get to his flat. When he came there, he saw two young people snogging at the entrance. It was too dark for him to recognise them, so he made his presence known by speaking.
“I know I’m back in England when I find young people kissing at my doorpost.”
The couple slowly broke apart. The somewhat taller male turned to him with a grin. “Sorry, Professor. Didn’t expect to be blocking the entrance for anyone.”
It was Peter Wood. Voldemort chuckled and started to walk towards them.
“Never mind, Mr Wood. Just coming home from …” He froze mid-sentence when he saw whom Peter had been snogging. For a moment, he just blinked, not knowing how he should react. A lot of different emotions were running through his body. Rage was the one he recognised the best. There were also feelings of betrayal and jealousy, but he didn’t want to linger at them. Instead, he embraced the rage.
Before the two students had time to react, he grabbed both of them and Apparated away to a less public location. The house was one he had used for killing in before. He had actually killed the owners of the house. Therefore, he knew the bedroom they landed in was empty. With a few small spells, he made sure no sounds would get out and no one could stumble upon them. He also took their wands. Not that he thought they would be in any condition to use them; they were both rather drunk.
Hermione was actually throwing up already while Wood had only lost his balance and was sitting on the floor. Voldemort made sure he stayed there by tying Wood’s feet and hands together.
“Hey! What’s going on?” Wood asked, wriggling against the bonds.
“For now, you’ll have to wait,” Voldemort replied coldly and took a hold of Hermione. With another spell, the mess she had made was gone. “I can see that you haven’t organised your priorities at all while I’ve been gone.”
Hermione groaned. “What are you doing here? I was having fun.”
“So I see,” he remarked and helped her over to the single bed standing against the wall. It was rather small since it was made for a child, but the pink covers seemed soft enough for her to rest on. “Now I think you need another lesson, my little Gryffindor kitten. A lesson to see what happens when you are unfaithful to Lord Voldemort.”
At once, Hermione seemed much more aware. And scared. Good.
She sat up, staring at him with big eyes. “N-no. I was ... we were just ...”
He stroked some hair away from her sweaty forehead. “Yes?”
“What are you talking about?” Wood’s voice came from behind them. He was starting to sound really scared as well.
Voldemort ignored him. “All you have to do, Hermione, is sit here and watch. Do you think you can do that?”
Hermione gripped the front of his robe. “You can’t hurt him! We were just ...”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m really starting to look forward what the end of that sentence could be, Hermione.” He knew she wouldn’t finish it, but it was fun to tease her. However, the torture that was coming would be even more entertaining. She would regret her actions then. He would make sure she knew that you didn’t cheat on Lord Voldemort.
“I’ll fuck you instead!” she hurriedly said.
Voldemort chuckled. “If you really think I’ll-”
She grabbed his head and kissed him. Voldemort was quite surprised, but not displeased. He had been looking forward to this very much the past two weeks. Suddenly, his need to kill Wood was overwhelmed by his need to fuck Hermione again. He wanted to be filled with her magic again. It had been much too long. Surely he could postpone the torture and killing for another half an hour or so?
“What the fuck ...?” Wood sounded shocked.
Without even taking his mouth from Hermione’s, Voldemort cast a Silencing Spell over the boy before turning his full attention to Hermione again. Even though he wanted to fuck her, he still needed her to squirm a little bit first. How else was she supposed to learn that she had done something bad? But not anything physically painful … perhaps a little embarrassment instead?
He broke their kiss. “Strip.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, and she looked past him to the boy lying on the floor. Voldemort gripped her chin and forced her to look back at him.
“My dear, if you really want your friend to survive this night, I suggest you do everything I say. Understood?”
Hermione nodded slowly and rose from the bed. Voldemort moved so that he could sit with his back against the wall and eyed her from head to toe. The green dress she was wearing was at least not as revealing as a lot of dresses he had seen on women her age. It didn’t put her on display, but it was pretty. If it weren’t for the make-up, she could have been going home from a business meeting instead of a party. At least she still had some sense. If she had a too revealing dress on, he would have had to kill every man who had seen her tonight.
“It’s a lovely dress, by the way,” he commented. “Where did you get it?”
“V-Victoria,” she stuttered, casting a nervous glance towards Wood.
“Of course. Remove it.” His voice turned hard.
Hermione’s eyes snapped back to Voldemort, and she quickly withdrew the dress. She stumbled as she stepped out of it, but regained her balance before she fell. Mumbling a curse, she removed her heels. As she straightened up, he watched her pale skin. All she was wearing underneath the dress was a white bra and pink knickers. He smiled. This was much better.
“The underwear as well, kitten,” he said calmly, crossing his arms.
After another uncomfortable glance at Wood, Hermione closed her eyes and struggled to get out of her bra and knickers. Voldemort doubted she would have done it so willingly if she hadn’t been drinking. However, that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was the fact that Hermione was completely naked in front of him. At last.
“Come here,” he ordered as he held out his hand and moved to the edge of the bed.
Hermione took his hand after a slight hesitation. With a tug, he had spun her around so she landed on his lap with her back against his chest. He brushed the hair away and kissed her neck. His hands travelled down her chest and stomach, and he could feel her shiver. When he reached the curls around her sex, he looked up to see how Wood was taking all this.
The boy’s eyes were on Hermione, naturally. He didn’t seem scared at all anymore, just enthralled by her naked body. Voldemort felt a dark surge of jealousy but stopped the urge to cover Hermione up. He could gouge Wood’s eyes out afterwards. This was, after all, the last thing Wood would ever see in his life: That Hermione was his and no one else’s.
“Spread your legs,” Voldemort whispered into her ear.
Hermione seemed to have forgotten everything about modesty. Since her eyes were closed, Voldemort guessed she had forgotten about Wood altogether. That was probably because of the alcohol, but Voldemort was sure she was enjoying his hands on her body, too. So, she didn’t have any trouble spreading her legs on either side of his.
When his hand reached her cunt, he found her soaking wet. “I see you have missed me, too, kitten.”
Hermione let out small mew. Voldemort chuckled and kissed her neck again. It felt utterly amazing to touch her again after two weeks. As he moved two fingers inside her, it felt as if he were coming home. Knowing that he would soon get a fresh fill of magic was just a great bonus. On top of that, he would get to kill one of his students, which made this night better than Christmas.
Not that he had ever liked Christmas, but he imagined this was what Christmas felt like for young, naive children.
“When you come, I want you to call out my name,” he whispered and undid the curse that made it impossible for her to reveal who he was.
Hermione’s eyelids fluttered, and he wondered how long she would continue to be conscious. It was late, and she was utterly drunk. Well, as long as she didn’t fall asleep before they had sex, he was alright with it.
He placed his wand on the bed next to him and used that hand to stimulate Hermione’s clit. He had four fingers inside her now. She was moaning loudly. One of her hands came over her head and took a hard grip of his hair. Voldemort rubbed her clit even harder, and she came with a wail.
“Voldemort!” she cried, bucking against his hand.
Voldemort looked at Wood, whose eyes were as big as saucers. Voldemort smiled at him. When Wood saw it, he began wriggling with new vigour, managing to shuffle a few inches backwards. Voldemort gripped his wand again and cast a spell that made Wood freeze. The boy could still see them, but he wouldn’t be able to move. It was quite possible that Voldemort wouldn’t let him move ever again.
However, first, he would finish up with Hermione. He lifted the young woman off his lap and moved her so she was lying on her belly on the bed.
“When I do this, kitten, I want you to remember that you belong to me,” he said as he pulled out his hard cock from his trousers. “If you ever dare to touch another man again, I’ll not be this kind.”
Hermione hardly seemed to hear him. However, she did move with him when he made her raise her hips up towards him, bending her legs underneath her. With one hand on her back, keeping her upper body down against the mattress, he guided himself inside her cunt with the other hand.
Voldemort groaned when he entered her. He had been wrong before. This was like coming home. His cock had longed for its hot, wet companion, and he had longed for the magic that was already building up between them. He pulled the magic in as he thrust inside her, getting deeper than he ever remembered being before.
Hermione moved back against him, even though her movements were weaker than his. She would, no doubt, black out soon. Better to speed things up then.
“I wonder if you realise that I will kill your friend anyway,” he said softly to the moaning woman underneath him.
She didn’t appear to hear him. Voldemort looked at Wood. He had heard him. Fear was shining through his eyes. Voldemort gave him a cold smile before turning his attention back to Hermione.
“At least you have earned the privilege of not being awake to see it,” he mumbled, and with three more hard thrusts, he had emptied himself inside her.
Once he let her go, Hermione fell to her side, passed out cold. Voldemort removed his cloak and laid it over her. Then, he also performed a spell that would make her deaf to what was about to happen. She would, no doubt, have a hell of a hangover in the morning. That would be enough of a punishment for now. He didn’t feel very angry with her anymore, anyway. She had redeemed herself with the fucking. If she ever seemed like she was about to cheat on him again, he would just remind her of this night.
As for Wood, no fucking in the world could save him from his fate.
“Now, Mr Wood,” Voldemort said and crouched down in front of the boy. “You have done something unforgivable. You have touched what is mine. I know you were about to fuck her. Yes, I know all about the games you and your friends play. Find a lonely girl, slip something into her drink and fuck her like there is no tomorrow. Because you tried to do this with my little kitten, I’m going to rip your cock off. After that, I’m going to cut your hands off for touching her and your tongue for kissing her. Once that is done, I’ll move on to your eyes. Once these things are all done, I’m going to find a small box and put you in it and then bury you somewhere, where no one will find you. It will take some time before you bleed out, I’ll make sure of that. As you lie there, waiting to die, I want you to think about how you have wronged Lord Voldemort. Do you think you can do that for me?”

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