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
- 1
- 2
- 3
She wavered dizzily and caught her breath.� Side along apparition always made her feel queasy.��

He released her somewhat and she looked around.� She stood in a bathroom.� It was very dark.� It was well lit by a large number of thick
white candles tossing soft flickering light, but it was still dark because
almost every surface in the room seemed to be formed of black marble.��

A large bathtub grew out of the floor almost
organically.� It was one of the few areas
that stood out because the inside surface of the marble of the wide deep
concave shell was not solid black as the rest of the room but white veined black
marble.� There were neither taps nor
spigot visible anywhere.�

She turned to look at Lord Voldemort uneasily, the reality
of her current situation slowly catching up on her.� He looked entirely fitting in this sombre
elegant bathroom.� He matched the colour
scheme somehow, it made his snow white skin stand out even more dramatically
and his red eyes glowed, the only point of colour in a monochrome world.�

She observed thoughtfully that his bone structure was quite
delicate when you looked at him closely.

�He looked...strange...in
the sense of being unusual... but he was quite interesting to look at.� Statuesque.� Like a Sumerian Idol or an Egyptian god.��

Hairless brows quirked momentarily as he smirked at her and
she realised she had been thinking those things while gazing into his
eyes.� �Nehebkau � an Egyptian god of
magic was said to have the face of a snake and the body of a man� he offered,
with a mildly amused tone.� She nodded
slightly, knowing this already.�

�He had the power to join souls with bodies.� She murmured,
unable to prevent herself from displaying her knowledge.�

Voldemort acknowledged the statement with a thoughtful
expression before turning to the bath and taking out his wand.� He cast silently so she had no idea what the
charm had been but the bath now began to fill rapidly from the bottom upward.� There were no thick bubbles, she was
glad.� She had always found bubble baths
rather irritating � the texture of the bubbles on her skin was unpleasant and
mounds of bubbles meant she would have to levitate the book she would
invariably be reading further away from her face. �

She watched the steam rising from the dark clear water
filling the tub, wavering the white veins in the
marble and jumped, startled, when Lord Voldemort spoke, suddenly close to her ear
�I have felt your eyes upon me, Hermione.�
Always you watch me.� �

She turned quickly to look at him, a little frightened
again.� His slitted eyes flickered at her
slightly, examining every nuance of her expression.�

�I...� she began uncertainly.� What could she say?� �Yes, you are the most interesting thing in
the reduced world I inhabit?�� That might
not go down well.�

�Your bath is ready� he said, before she could fumble some
response.��

She turned and looked, as much to confirm the fact as to
have a reason to look away from his piercing gaze.� He was extremely unsettling...� She had always had the disturbing feeling
that professor Snape�s eyes could see into her when she looked at him.� Lord Voldemort�s eyes were exponentially
worse � in that she had the disconcerting feeling that he could see into her
even if she didn�t look at him.� When she looked into his eyes, she felt like
her every thought and feeling was on display in letters ten metres high.

�

She stared at the steaming bath conflicted... she wanted to
get in � oh she wanted so badly to get in now... she could almost feel the
water against her skin.� But Lord Voldemort
didn�t appear to be leaving.� Did he
expect her to undress in front of him?!�

She had never had to undress in front of him before.� The elves changed her and cleaned her, never
undressing her for the merest second.�
She hadn�t been unclothed in months.�
The only male person who had ever
seen her fully unclothed was her father and she had been a small child back
then.� She didn�t even wear a bikini in
public.� She couldn�t do this!!��

She looked at the water longingly as if it were a mere
realistic painting of a bath.�

�You do not want a bath after all, Hermione?�� Voldemort asked her knowingly.�

She looked at him desperately, pitifully.� �Will you...�
um... won�t you...� please...� that is...� she petered out.� There was just no way to politely eject Lord Voldemort
from any room.� It was not possible.� Vain attempts would end in horrible pain, she
just knew.�

She heard him laugh softly in genuine amusement.� �You are so innocent, my dear.� It is delightful��

All her hair stood on end then as she felt Lord Voldemort�s
hand on the zip of her silky dress, lowering it slowly.��

She started to shake.� What could she
do?� There was nothing she could possibly
do!� Even if she had a wand there would
still be nothing she could do.� Oh
god!!� Voldemort was undressing
her!!!!� There was nowhere to run.� She couldn�t fight him.� She was, and had been for months, entirely at
his mercy.�

She whimpered softly and wrapped her arms around herself,
trying not to cry.�

�Shhhhh� the high pitched voice
soothed. �I have not hurt you, have I?�

She kept her eyes fixed on the bath and tried to remain
still. He hadn�t hurt her but she had watched him hurt others.� So very many others.� He did not restrict himself to the
unforgiveables � she had seen him cast entrail-expelling curses, flaying curses
and boiling curses, he once froze a man�s hand and then commanded him to snap
off his own fingers.� He made a young boy
vomit sewing needles because he had not liked his tone of voice. �

The man in the room with her was a psychopath of almost limitless power and
creativity.� An interesting psychopath if
one were some distance away, inside what felt like a shark cage, able to watch
with impunity, but still a psychopath.��

And now he was undressing her and she wasn�t in the shark cage anymore.� What he could do to her was not limited by
the darkness of her imagination. He could do a lot worse to her than she was
actually currently capable of imagining.�

The zip had reached its ultimate destination and she
squeaked as she felt warm hands peel her dress away from her back.� She wore no bra with this strapless dress. It
was not necessary.� Her small breasts
were firm enough to stand without support.

She felt Lord Voldemort�s hands smooth down her back slowly,
drawing down the red silk dress.� More
than reluctantly she released it from where she had been clinging to it cramped
beneath her folded arms.� His hands moved
lower, sliding over her hips and then the dress fell to pool around her bare
feet.�

�...lovely� his voice observed as his hands glided still
over her hips, playing at the waistband of her red silk panties.�

She shook like a leaf and wrapped her arms around herself
more tightly.

Instead of removing her underwear she felt his hands slide
up her sides till they reached her folded arms.�
His fingertips traced down her arms and she suddenly felt him step close
behind her, the soft warmth of his robe touching her back.�

His hands reached her wrists and gripped lightly, pulling her arms slowly away
from their folded position over her breasts and bringing them down to her
sides.�

She ducked her head, flinching as he gently forced her to
bare herself.� �..Please...� she begged
weakly.� She wanted to say �don�t� but
one did not tell Lord Voldemort to do or not do things.� She had never...ever... heard anyone tell him
no.

�Hush, Hermione� he said almost gently.� �Calm yourself�

His fingertips were gliding feather light back up the
outside of her arms and now she thought she could feel his breath against her
hair. He was right behind her... The
fingertips that had now reached her shoulders started to dance town the front
of her body slowly...so slowly... toward her breasts.�

She shook violently and her hands clenched and unclenched in
desperation, too afraid to move to push him away.��

His fingertips glided now to the side and around the curve
of her breasts, beneath them, circling her peaks.� She felt her nipples harden in response
uncontrollably and she burned bright red in shame.� She wasn�t aroused by Lord Voldemort.� She could never never find this evil man attractive.

She couldn�t stop herself from shivering as his open palms brushed over her
hardened peaks and she thought she heard his breath catch...� One of his hands cupped her breast, kneading
it slowly, tenderly, now and then pulling back to tease her nipple, while the
other slipped� up and brushed aside her
hair from her neck.�

She felt Voldemort move even closer and then she really couldn�t stop herself from flinching
when she felt his face move against her skin and his lips press gently to her
neck, kissing her.� She whimpered
helplessly, feeling sick with fear.� He
ignored her terrified response completely and continued kissing her
throat.� His tongue slid over her
delicate skin and then he sucked at a particularly sensitive spot and she shuddered
in unwilling pleasure.�

She felt him smile against her skin and the hand that had
been cupping and teasing her breast slid down her body in tandem with the other,� his thumbs slipping beneath the waistband of
her panties and sliding them slowly slowly down till
they dropped unhindered down her legs to land with her dress.� He had kissed up her throat now and his mouth
was over her ear.� His breath made her
knees feel slightly weak. When he darted his hot pointed tongue out and licked
at the shell of her ear she gasped and suddenly realised how fast she was
breathing.� Almost
panting.

�Your bath is getting cold� he murmured into her ear and it
felt.... it felt delicious.� Forbidden and dark and shameful and intensely pleasurable.�

The sudden cold and bereft feeling she experienced when he
then pulled away without warning and stepped back shocked her. She couldn�t
possibly have wanted him to keep touching her.�
It was unthinkable.

She snuck a peek back over her shoulder at him, looking
quickly back at the bath.� He was
standing watching her, a look of dark satisfaction on his face.� That could not bode well for her.� The only time he ever looked pleased like
that was when he had just finished cursing someone.��

She stepped forward and raised her leg, slipping it into the
hot bath.�

Oh... it was still wonderfully warm.� Idyllic... heavenly... it was amazing beyond
words.� She slipped her other leg in and
let herself slide down into the dark depths.�

This was the best bath she had ever had... without a doubt. The warmth warmer,
the water wetter, her body sang! ��

She let herself sink down under the water completely,
shaking her head and feeling the charms the elves laid on her hair to bind it
into ringlets dissolve.� She rose to the
surface and brushed her hands back over her head, slicking her hair back.�

The faint innocuous sound of fabric hitting the floor was
startling in its unobtrusiveness.

�She turned her head
to see that Voldemort had removed his robes.�

He stood naked before her, his marble white body in unbelievably sharp relief
against the uniformly black environment.�

His eyes flashed as he observed the way her gaze slid across his naked
form.�

She couldn�t help herself... she literally could do nothing
to prevent the way her eyes had developed a will of their own when she had
turned and they had met his shining chest, stunned at the unexpected
definition.� Statuesque was exactly the
word for him.� He had the body of a
swimmer, muscles standing crisp and tight, the rest of
his frame lean and streamlined.�

Her gaze had wandered down his abdomen, stealing lower still
to where... to where... she gulped.��

Completely without pubic hair he was nevertheless very
generously endowed as far as she could tell, although her knowledge was rather
theoretical.� His cock stood at half mast
and it seemed it hardened further while she watched.� Perhaps it was because she watched.�

She blinked, shocked and with some difficulty forced her
eyes away; glancing at his face for a millisecond and then away again.� He wore a small satisfied smile again, so
thin and cruel it was like a little knife blade.�

She sank lower in the water, seeking to hide; heard him
padding forward but did not look, did not want to provoke him any further.� �

A pale athletic leg appeared in her view and lowered itself
into the translucent water, standing out sharply against the black
bathtub.� Another soon followed and then Lord
Voldemort was lowering himself gracefully into the other end of the large bathtub
till he reclined comfortably curled against the curved black and white stone
shell.�

He closed his eyes and sighed.

She stared!�

The surreality of the moment was overwhelming.� Having a nice relaxing bath
with the Dark Lord, nothing unusual at all.

She could feel his legs at either side of her own
lightly.� The tub was very wide and there
was no feeling of crampedness.� Her own legs reached to just above his
knees.�

It was, she hesitantly acknowledged to herself, not entirely unpleasant to lie here.� At this particular second at least she didn�t
feel overtly threatened.� Perhaps it was
because his eyes were closed and he seemed more relaxed than he had ever
appeared before.� At that moment his eyes
opened.� Shiny red jewels scrutinized her
silently.�

After a minute or so, he let them slip closed again. She
watched as he let himself sink underwater completely.�

His entire body was visible under the glassy water as he lay peacefully
submerged.�

The thought crept in at the corner of her mind that she
could try to drown him.� She didn�t know
where it came from but it tickled at her faintly.� All she would need to do would be to brace
her arms over the edges of the tub and kneel on his chest and then fight like
bloody hell to keep him down there.��

She considered the idea briefly and then as if casting a small fish back into
the ocean, let it slip away again.� Whether she could or could not successfully
drown him was a moot point.� She found,
unaccountably, that she did not want to
successfully drown him.�

She sighed.� How long
could the man hold his breath?�

She wondered suddenly if he actually did swim a lot.� He must have lay there like that several
minutes at least now.

�She was just starting to worry faintly
when Voldemort raised himself up again, till his head was above the water to
just below his nose.�

He shone wetly.

�His garnet eyes penetrated her and he
wore a very thoughtful expression again.�

After a time he rose higher out of the
water and spoke.� �Do you know, Hermione,
there is not one single witch or wizard, not one of my death eaters, no ally
one hundred times sworn and proven, who I would trust in my presence while as
vulnerable as I have just made myself before you.��

Her eyes widened slightly.�
Did he just imply that he trusted her?�
Or was it that he viewed her as powerless and did not need to worry for
that reason?�

Lord Voldemort extended a hand underwater.� �Will you come to me?� Will you show me a small fraction of that
trust?��

She looked back and forth between his entreating hand and
his glinting eyes.�

It was a step too far.�

He watched her with seemingly infinite patience.� Her inconveniently reasonable mind was automatically
disputing his statement.� Her trust would
not be a small fraction of his.� It would
be exponentially greater.�

For one, he was not only physically stronger than her, he also probably
mastered wandless magic, while her own wandless magic was extremely weak, not
even enough for an alohamora.

�She was not foolish enough to believe Voldemort
would ever put himself truly at risk.�

She did know however from Ginny�s
experiences with the diary that he was extraordinarily good at manipulating
people into doing what he wanted, although he was so powerful these days that
he usually didn�t seem to bother with the velvet glove methods.

He seemed to recognise the direction of her thoughts because
a half second later he had launched himself smoothly through the deep water and
was pressed against her, his thighs straddling her own and his hands pressing
her wrists to the bottom of the bath.

His eyes were darker, half hooded as he looked down at her.

�I could kill you, Hermione.�
I could drown you like a kitten. �I could show you a pretty green light. You are
correct - I don�t require a wand for that.

�..You exist because I have chosen to
preserve your life.� You continue to
breathe at my pleasure.�

If I thought I might derive more amusement from your death than your life... I
could transfigure your lungs into flesh eating spiders and watch them make their
way through your body...I could boil your blood in your veins... I could
imperio you into auto-cannibalistic frenzy.�
I could... ��

He paused, looking down animatedly at her terrified face,
her chin and bottom lip underwater, staring up at him in panic but too afraid
to even try to struggle.� His heavy cock
rested on the seam of her tightly closed thighs and seemed to brush against her
skin very slightly, like a living creature, in the residual current of his
movement.��

Then he started dragging her slowly deeper in the water.�

Her panic escalated a hundred fold. He was going to drown
her!!!� For the hell of it!�

The water was just below her nose.�

She snatched a quick breath and then the water was over her nose, at her
eyes.��

She blinked up at him, pleading.�

His face was implacable, unreadable, concentrated.�

The world blurred and she blinked rapidly as he dragged her
to the bottom of the stone tub, his weight upon her.�

He glowed white against a black
world.� She couldn�t make out the surface
of the water... the contrast was too low.�
All she could see was his white form kneeling over her looking down,
slightly blurred, glowing against sheer darkness.�

She held her breath. She wouldn�t be able to hold it for
long.�

He was looking down at her with a cold kind of interest,
just like he had when she had first woken up in the cage.�

Seconds ticked past slowly and he didn�t seem to do anything
else...just hold her in place and watch her lie there, holding her breath.�

It was...warm and pleasantly muted underwater.�
She could see how one might enjoy just lying here, completely covered in
the warm blanket of the water...� if it
weren�t for that pesky breathing thing she needed to do.��

Her lungs gave a spasm of protest.�� Soon she would not be able to hold on any
longer.� It was inevitable.�

She wondered whether it was a better death than an Avada.� Drowning was supposed to be very peaceful
after one stopped panicking and the lungs were full of water.�

At least that was what people rescued from near drowning reported.� It was probably even nicer with warm
water.�

Maybe she should take a nice deep breath and just escape this place.�

She didn�t want to die
though.� Always it kept coming back
to that irritating little point of hope.�
She didn�t want to live in a cage but she preferred living in a cage to
dying � it was why she had never simply stood up and started trying her hardest
to poke the tiger.�

She needed to breathe now.�
Her lungs were burning.�

She let some of the air escape her lips.� The bubbles burbled to the surface prettily
and some of the pressure was relieved... but it was a short reprieve, she
knew.� The feeling of lungs full of
carbon dioxide would not be as bad as the feeling of compressed lungs when she
had breathed out all the bubbles she could and needed to breathe in again.

She looked back up at the blurry glow of the red eyes.�

Lord Voldemort in the bath with her.�

Naked.�

Lord Voldemort drowning her in the bath.�

Nakednakednaked.��

Harry would not believe this even if someone told him.��

She needed to breathe in now.� There were no more bubbles to breathe
out.�

She blinked, trying to focus through the warm water.� Voldemort had slipped below the surface.� His face now hovered a few inches above her
own.� Did he want to see the expression
on her face more closely when she died?�

She wondered incongruently what the world looked like to him. Did he see it the
same way she did through those strange slitted pupils?� Did he see like cats saw?� Or snakes?�

Her lungs were on fire and now... she really was going to
have to take a breath.� Her body started
to struggle quite against her will.� It
seemed that it wanted to reach the
surface a lot more than her mind and her fear would allow. She tugged at hands
that were immoveable as stone, clenching her eyes and straining against the
overwhelming need to breathe in.�

Then she felt lips against hers.� Lord Voldemort was kissing her.

Her mind screamed and the shock of it made her gasp, and then she could breathe! �He deepened the kiss as soon as her lips
parted, breathing into her, taking the air back from her as she panted it out
again almost immediately.� They shared
breath back and forth while his tongue stroked and teased her own.�

She found herself responding.� The relief
and the pleasure together were intoxicating.�

She didn�t notice movement until she felt the cooler air
slicking her hair against her head and the sides of her face.� He had turned them underwater somehow and now
she was lying on his chest, their heads and part of her back were out of the
water.�

She inhaled cold air through her nose appreciating it as she had never done
before.�

Why was she still kissing him?!� She
should stop now.��

As she tried to pull back she felt a hand on the back of her
head, holding her in place.�

His lips were smooth, hot, firm and the kiss that went on
and on was not brutal; it was not a devouring... it was anything but what she
might reasonably expect.� It was
passionate but it was a soft lingering teasing kind of passion.�

As soon as she gave herself over to it, thrust her tongue in counterpoint into his mouth, pushed harder against him, he
removed his hand and withdrew.�

She leaned in, trying to capture his lips again, wanting
more and he smirked, holding her back, his hand on her collarbone � the gesture
reminding her that a few inches higher and he could easily be gripping her
throat in that pale hand.�

She became immediately quiescent.�

His eyes glinted approval as his hands slid down her back, over her ass,
pulling her closer, pressing her against his hard length.� She was afraid but she had already given
herself up to her position.� There was simply
nothing she could do.� She could deny him
nothing.� At best she could hope that he
would continue to not hurt her.�

Even if he chose to hurt her... there would still be nothing she could do but
beg.

�Calm yourself� his breathy layered voice comforted.� �I am going
to take you.� Later.� After our bath I think.�

�-It will hurt, naturally... but the pain
will subside and then there will be pleasure.��

She looked at the pale serpentine face in confusion.� The feelings jostling for place inside her
were so varied and contradictory that it actually hurt just beneath her ribs.�

�Why?!� Why do you want me? Why...havent
you...� No... What I mean is... What is
this really about?��

The Dark Lord�s eyes flashed in irritation.� He appeared to scrutinize her for a long
minute that stretched on uncomfortably.� Eventually
he said, in a tone that she found quite believable, even reasonable.� �A match between us would be, to a greater or
lesser degree, mutually beneficial.� You
may be of some use to me, and it is clear to see how being in my favour will
directly affect your quality of life.�

More than this, however � you are the closest intellectual match I might find
in the wizarding world at present.��

There was the veiled implication that this status could
change in the future.

�We share many interests. �You have a thirst to learn, to develop your
capabilities.� Who could better understand
your drives than I?� Although I am aware
you have been very effectively brainwashed by that old fool to fear the dark
arts, even were you to remain ridiculously obstinate on that point
indefinitely, there are still so many areas we might discuss...�

Have you not tired of simplifying your thoughts and expressions for the less
cognitively blessed among your friends and associates?� Have you ever longed to meet someone who
would truly challenge you? �

There is so much I might show you, so much I have learned over the years that I
have never shared; High magic that no other book, scroll
or teacher can offer...��

Hermione gulped.�

His words had struck a chord and she couldn�t quite dismiss the temptation that
piqued suddenly at the thought of knowledge she could not attain
elsewhere.��

�What do you really want from me?� she asked
suspiciously.��

A brief greedy look flickered over the Dark Lord�s face and
vanished under the mask of earnest reason.�

�I want only what you will eagerly give me:� the pleasures of your body and of your
mind.�

You try to convince yourself that you should refuse me, that it is wrong to
want to live... to prefer stimulation over stagnation, to want to feel, to
experience again...��

She recognised immediately that he had not answered her
question at all.� Oh... it was an answer-
the most basic answer, but she highly doubted that he wanted her for
conversation...or even for physical release.�
Those were side effects of whatever he was truly after.�

The red eyes narrowed slightly and she felt his fingertips
glide down her back again, his arms encircling her.� �You are�
...pleasing...to me, Hermione� he murmured.� �You are not easily led by the nose, but are
intelligent enough to submit yourself completely to my will.� I find your physical appearance appealing and
the flavour of your mind delightful

- I do not know how many dull briefings I have endured by observing them
through your mind�s amusing running commentary.�
...You are perhaps correct � there is a further ulterior motive to my
affections.��

She scrutinised the relaxed expression on the strange face
inches away from her own.

�...but you do not need to worry at present about that.� I offer you my promise that this ulterior
motive does not involve harm to you in any way.�
Quite the reverse... if you give yourself over to my care entirely...if
you offer me your willing trust...I will protect you.�

She considered the prospect.�
From all angles the answer remained the same � if she agreed then there was the possibility of a continuation of
non harm.�

Whatever Lord Voldemort wanted would probably constitute a massive betrayal of
everything she had ever stood for � but she might not be vomiting sewing
needles in the immediate future � or drowning... or being eaten by spiders from
the inside out.� Possibly she might end
up in Azkaban or dead eventually when Harry came.� For the moment though the threat was
infinitely greater if she should refuse
whatever he seemed to want.��

And really... what was he asking � give herself over to his care entirely?� It was hardly as if she had any power to
determine her own fate here anyway.� As
he�d said � she continued to breathe at his
pleasure.�

And...and...It hadn�t been...exactly...terrible...to...um... kiss him.�

Lying here in the warm water on top of the smooth body wasn�t actually the worst possible sensation in the world;
definitely not as bad as sewing needles in the throat or spiders in her chest
cavity.

She felt him snort faintly beneath her and refocused her
eyes upon the glittering red ones observing her � no doubt observing her
internal thought processes too � with amusement.�

He wanted...trust... he�d said.�

She didn�t know whether she could even remotely give him that.� Did she trust him?� Not in the slightest.� Not even faintly.� At any second he might turn and flay her
alive.�

She feared him.� She accepted
his power.� Trust was something else
entirely.�

A hand stroking down her back made her jump slightly.
�Perhaps trust will come in time� he conceded softly.� �Will you obey
me in all things, irrespective your feelings toward my instructions?��

She swallowed and admitted to herself that she would.�

She was afraid of what he might order her to do because she
suspected she would probably do it if it didn�t involve directly harming anyone
she cared for.�

The red orbs narrowed.�

�And what if I ordered you to kill Ronald Weasley?� he asked speculatively

�or...Ginny Weasley?��

She bit her lips in horror � trying to suppress the internal
panic.�

�I... I don�t think I can kill anyone�
she whispered.�

The pale face seemed to become thoughtful.� �What about a death eater.� If one of my servants were threatening Harry...could you kill him?��

Her panic deepened.�
There was no way she was going to say that she might kill a death eater
to save Harry.� Not while lying here... not to this man.�

�I don�t know� she said.� �I... would use
a spell to stun or wound rather than kill I suppose.��

Lord Voldemort did not appear to be bothered by this
answer.� She had expected at least a
scornful expression and possibly a lot
more, but he seemed...pleased... with her response.�� He raised his hand and stroked over her wet
hair.�

It felt very strange to be petted in this manner.� She hadn�t ever really dated.� The only physical contact she really had with
others was the occasional hug with Ron and Harry or with her parents.� Physical affection of this type was an
entirely new phenomenon � and the fact that it was this man very nearly boggled the mind.�

If someone had told her last year that she would find herself
in a matter of months, lying in a bath being stroked by Lord Voldemort, she�d
have laughed at them and given them directions to St Mungos.� And yet... Here she
seemed to be!��

�Kiss me.�� The thin
pale lips commanded quietly, derailing her train of thought.� She flinched and they curved up into a faint
smirk.��

Swallowing down her fear and closing her eyes she leaned down cautiously and
brushed her lips over the smooth warm ones on the strange flat face.� He responded subtly, encouraging her to
continue.�

She felt his arms encircling her again and tried a bit harder; it wasn�t an
area she had a lot of experience in.�

His tongue startled her when it flickered quickly against
her top lip.

Steeling herself she tried to deepen the kiss, parting her
lips and doing the same thing back.� When
her tongue met up with the hot slick point of his she shivered slightly and
then he was exploring her mouth.� Probing
and tasting and sliding the hot wet muscle against her own.��

He had tilted his head.�

Even in the midst of everything she had enough mind left to
find it odd.� He had no nose.� There was no need.�

She wondered whether it was simply a habit from when he had a nose.

She wondered how many women he had been with. �

A great deal?

Ginny had confessed that the tom riddle from the diary had been very
handsome.�

He smiled against her mouth, through the kiss and she felt
exposed again as he pulled back, nipping at her bottom lip gently as he
retreated.� �..Fewer than you might
imagine perhaps.� He informed her, smirking ��I had other priorities in my youth.�
As you have
had other priorities.� I have
found that sexual entanglements can be problematic.� Bellatrix is a case in point.��

Hermione blinked, surprised.�

Not that Bellatrix Lestrange had apparently been
involved with Lord Voldemort at some point � that was not difficult to believe
at all from the way the witch carried on about him and looked at him.

No � What was bizarre was that he was telling
her this.� Lord Voldemort had just
confessed that he was not a �stud� or a �player� or... any of the other terms
used to connote guys who had a lot of
experience with girls.� It was unexpected
that this man would ever admit
weakness or less than complete mastery in any area.�

The serpentine man snorted again softly, an unreadable expression
on his face.

�I did not intend to imply that I lacked experience...child.� No... very soon now you will find that I have made
a rather thorough study of the area... with and without magical enhancements.� I have merely found it...inconvenient...to
involve myself with witches... or wizards for that matter.� There are better uses for my time.��

Apart from this � I do not share well.�
What I take is mine.. After I have had you � you will never again need to be
concerned that any other might lay a finger upon you.��

Hermione looked at the hard glint in the scarlet eyes and
swallowed.� She wondered suddenly how
many of Lord Voldemort�s past lovers were still alive.��

The slow stroke down her spine with a fingertip and the tiny
predatory twist of his thin lips gave her the feeling that it probably wasn�t
many.��

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, then pushed her
away gently.�

She willingly retreated but was not allowed far.� He rearranged her until she sat between his
parted legs facing away from him.�

It turned out that looking at Lord Voldemort..even kissing Lord Voldemort.. was preferable to knowing he
was there and not being able to see
the expression on his face.�

She spluttered and coughed as what seemed like a bucket of
water was suddenly dropped on her head without warning, almost turning around
angrily before she caught herself.�

Stupid.� It�s
just water.� A mouthful of water versus
the cruciatus.. hm.. let me think about it..�

She blinked her eyes free of droplets and then there were
hands on her head... A cool gel-like sensation and then
massaging.�

He was washing her
hair.�

Her mind kept producing exclamation points.

Why was he doing this?!�
Why would he?!.
It was absurd!!.

...It felt really nice though. �The sensation of it. The fingertips teasing at her scalp... moving in toe curling little circles at the back of her
head... the top of her spine.� She let
her head roll back against them like a cat having its ears scratched.� This
had to be the most surreal moment of her life so far, she mused.�

His clever fingers were melting her mind as he moved down
from her head to massage her neck and then shoulders.� She felt like a mass of raw nerves all
tingling in pleasure.�

Surely he had to be using some kind of spell.�

�No.� he murmured softly behind her.� �Perhaps later... But no.� You are merely very sensitive.� Inexperienced.� You are going to enjoy what I will show you tonight.� �

She wasn�t sure whether it was a prediction or an order but nodded
bonelessly.�

�Down...� he urged her gently, pressing on her
shoulders.�

She let herself slip down in the bath until she floated with
her eyes closed, her face out of the water and her hair flowing out around
her.� She could feel him swirling his
fingers through it, removing the shampoo.

A few times a smooth hand stroked over her forehead, her ears, wiping away the
faint remains of suds.� Then hands delved
and gripped her under the arms and she was dragged easily up to lie on his hard
chest.�

She felt unaccountably relaxed.� Perhaps a potion?�

She felt him snort.�
�You are quite suspicious.� he whispered against her ear and the
movement of his mouth there caused a fluttery quiver in her stomach. �His hands slid over her slick skin, gliding up
and cupping her breasts.�

She hadn�t even thought about how exposed she was until he
touched her there again.�

Now though it was very different.� Just as his fingers had known exactly how to
touch and press to make her melt, his hands now knew how to hold her... how to
stroke her skin... how to massage her small globes to make her sigh.. make her bite her lip and gasp in pleasure.��

She wriggled against him and could feel that he had hardened
beneath her again.� Just at this
particular second she was a little preoccupied to care much about it and the
next moment she didn�t even have time to yelp before he�d apparated them both.
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Captive Audience