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Not My Idea	By : KissingDementors Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 5293 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I own the characters. I do not make any money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-In which Hermione writes her Last Will and Testament
- 2-In Which Two Brilliant Individuals Scheme
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AN: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter.

Reviews to chapter one can be found here http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/29182-not-my-idea-reviews/

Chapter Two – In which Two Brilliant Individuals Scheme

“Hermione, you don't have to do this. We'll think of something.” Harry pleaded with his best friend, trying to stop her mad idea of actually going through with the marriage law. He had already lost so many people, he didn't want to lose the person he though of as his sister too.

“How, Harry. Tell me, how can you get around this law? Not even The Chosen One can wiggle his way out of this one, let alone his best friend. Dumbledore has already written me with his condolences on the matter and has made it perfectly clear that the Ministry won't listen to him. And the Ministry! Those imbeciles think this is brilliant. The Minister himself has written to congratulate me and wishes me the best success. They think I can kill him.” She snorted at the very thought, “As if a teenager could defeat Voldemort. It would be suicidal to even try. Hell, this whole thing is suicidal.”

“Then don't go.” He knew she would go anyway but he had to try, “Stay at Grimmauld.”

“And be a prisoner for the rest of my life, Harry? I'd never be able to leave, even after the war. I would be willingly disobeying the Ministry no matter how you look at it.”

“I love you, Mione.”

“Love you too, Harry.” She hugged the boy goodbye, she had already said bye to the Weasley's, there was nothing keeping her here now. She grabbed a handful of the gritty floo powder and shouted her destination, “KNOCKTURN ALLEY!” With a flash of green smoke she was gone leaving Harry Potter alone to mourn his best friend.

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As Hermione sat inside the seedy looking bar she reread the letter again, smoothing it out every now and then from anxiety. At first glance you wouldn't be able to tell that the letter was from Voldemort, after all not many people knew his real name. Blasted stupid Ministry, she thought, gazing longingly at the bottles of firewhiskey sitting behind the bar. She was supposed to meet her escort here to take her to wherever her future husband was, there was nothing in the note about not being able to show up sloshed.

Deciding the pros outweighed the cons she flagged down the bartender, a middle aged wizard who looked like he was in desperate need of a bath, and ordered a double shot of firewhiskey. He took her money and waved his wand, magically pouring her a glass of the stuff. With only a brief thought of hoping the glass was clean she downed it in one go. Immediately she could feel it burning her throat, causing her to gasp and cough. What the hell did they make firewhiskey out of?

She was already beginning to regret her decision, after all Hermione had always been somewhat of a lightweight and firewhiskey was a very strong alcohol. Did she really want to show up to meet the Dark Lord drunk? Yes. Yes she did. If she was going to die she might as well puke her guts out on his robes first. Would serve him right.

Oh, Merlin. My heads already getting muzzy, She thought, swaying a little on the high stool. She could see people giving her odd and even predatory looks. The witch let out a snort of amusement, wouldn't it just be perfect if she got picked up in this hellhole before Voldemort even got his claws on her.

“Granger.” She wobbled as she turned around, her slightly glazed eyes landing on blond hair, gray eyes and sharp facial features. Oh great, they sent Malfoy to pick her up? Did they want her to turn homicidal before even getting there? Someone call the ASPCA because chances were she was killing a ferret tonight.

“Been reduced to errand boy, Malfoy?” She placed her hands on the bar before carefully shifting off the stool, “Well, let's go. Might as well get this nightmare over with.”

He sneered at her in disgust before offering his arm, “If I were you I'd be a little nicer, Mudblood. After all if you're lucky enough to survive tonight you'll be in your proper place.” He tried not to shudder in disgust when her hand clutched onto his arm, she was leaning onto him to help keep her balance.

When they arrived at their destination Hermione almost rolled her eyes in amusement, they were in what she guessed to be Malfoy Manor, but it could easily be any rich Purebloods home. The furniture looked highly uncomfortable, but no worries, it was at least horrendously fashionable. In her own opinion Hermione quite thought the curtains could use a good round of incendio. They were garishly green with what first appeared to be an intricate spiral pattern but upon closer inspection was actually thousands of snakes embroidered onto the thick velvet. Slytherins, how unoriginal could you get?

There was a giant crystal and silver chandelier hanging from the extremely large Entrance Hall's ceiling, the room was lit by candles which were flickering off the silver decorations. She noted with good humor that there was not a fleck of gold or red in sight. Typical. Just because she was in Gryffindor didn't mean she automatically shunned all things green and silver. She also wondered, for the briefest of moments, if they ever used white gold or if they shunned it too? And just how many licks did it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? The world may never know, she quipped to herself, trying her best not to laugh, the corners of her mouth twitching from the urge to laugh but knowing it would be highly inappropriate and earn her some odd stares.

There comes a time in everyone's life when they say something incredibly stupid. Hermione, being the bright individual she was, normally knew when to keep her mouth shut and would actually follow through with her own wise advice. This was not one of those times, and later she would wonder whether it was the alcohol, stress or just plain stupidity that made her open her mouth.

“When will the Psychopath be joining us?” All amusing thoughts and the slight buzz she had managed seemed to leave her in an instant as he walked in, which was quite unfortunate because she was actually starting to calm down. Hermione always thought Voldemort had an uncanny ability to show up when he was least wanted. Leave it to him to decide on making a grand entrance just when she was calling him names, he probably was waiting in the shadows like some kind of stalker just for the most inopportune moment. Why did she go and decide to call him that anyway? Wasn't she supposed to be the Brightest Witch of her age. Mentally she was kicking her own ass while all hopeful thoughts of surviving the night were dashed into oblivion.

The witch was trying to figure out why she was even there in the first place, what reason was good enough to face down Voldemort alone? Oh, right. For Harry. Because she wanted to at least try and help him. And if she died perhaps the Ministry would rethink this idiotic law and cancel it. Yeah right, like that would happen. The Ministry would probably sweep it under the rug and have the Prophet write some sappy article about how brave Hermione Granger was to sacrifice her life for the good of all.

“I do believe, Miss Granger, that I've already joined you. Now if you would be kind enough to sit.” He flicked his wand and she was forced into one of those highly elegant yet uncomfortable chairs, and she wasn't at all surprised when her wand was summoned and caught by one of his long, spidery hands. One would wonder if perhaps all his anger was because he hadn't been able to get laid, after all it's not like women wanted to have sex with a man who reminded them of creepy crawlies like spiders and snakes.

The young witch had expected to be killed by now, perhaps be subjected to a few bouts of crucio, but not to be forced to listen to him. From what Hermione had heard from Harry, Voldemort loved to talk, especially about himself and his many great deeds. She almost wished she had gotten the cruciatus. Who knows how long she would be forced to listen to the 101 great achievements of Lord Voldemort, psychopath and hypocrite extraordinaire.

Lord Voldemort raised a nonexistent eyebrow in amusement, she did realize he was a master at legilimency and could hear every thought that crossed that little mudblood mind of hers. . . Right? Perhaps not, her breed were never known to be intelligent. Then again, he did often recall the youngest Malfoy complaining about how Mudblood Granger was the top of her class and a bloody annoying know-it-all. Caressing his wand he wandered what to do with the girl. Torture was a given, but would he kill her. Come September she would be required to go back to school, and therefore would be near Potter all the time. This was definitely something he could use to his advantage.

“It's time we talked about our, or rather your, predicament. You see, I had never planned on getting married, especially to someone with such dirty blood as yours, but I'm willing to overlook that fact and spare your life. Perhaps even over time you might be willing to join me of your own accord.” He ignored the comments racing through her brain, the loudest one being You have got to be kidding me.

“I would never join or help you, willingly or not.” Her eyes were defiant, her back ramrod straight as she somehow managed to appear as if she was looking down at him from her sitting position.

“Your parents are dentists, are they not?” He asked innocently, his red eyes gleaming at her coldly, “You know now that I think about it, you have your mothers eyes.” He was taunting her now, getting satisfaction from the look of horror on her face.

“You would.” She was saying it more to herself but he couldn't help but agree aloud with her statement.

“You see, Hermione dearest, I could use your help, all you have to do is not help.”

She looked at him in confusion, “How am I supposed to help by not helping.” I knew he was crazy but I didn't know he was mentally handicapped as well. Oh wait, Hermione, of course he's mentally handicapped. Have you seen what he's done to the wizarding world? Only the mentally insane would start a vendetta against something that he himself was. Well, half was.

Voldemort's eye twitched and the hand clasping his wand tightened, “I will spare your life, and I will marry you. In return for your life and the lives of your parents, whom I have imprisoned before you try to send the Order to help them, you will not help Harry Potter to your full ability. In fact you will report to me everything he does. You should be ecstatic I'm not asking you to kill him as it is.” Like he would let anyone kill the boy, he would be the one to kill Harry Potter. The girl would just be a means to an end.

“Not likely to happen. I would never betray Harry.”

“Then I'm afraid I have no choice. You will watch as your parents are tortured until their bodies fail them. Believe me when I say that this will take weeks, Hermione. It's amazing what the human body can stand before it fails. After your parents deaths I will forcefully look at every piece of information locked away in your mind and then kill you. It will not be quick and it will be painful.”

Hermione paled, if it was just her who would die she would do it. She was prepared for it. Her parents on the other hand, she couldn't let him hurt them let alone kill them. She would go along with his plans for now, after all she didn't have to tell him absolutely everything. Hermione planned to help Harry in any way she could, even if it meant betraying him. They would save her parents, and Voldemort would die.

“If I help you my parents will remain unharmed and in perfect health?”

“Lord Voldemort rewards those that please him.” The answer was anything if not ambiguous but it was the best she knew she would receive.

“I'll help you.”

Voldemort turned away from the girl, his lipless mouth smirking in satisfaction. Gryffindors were so easy to manipulate. With a wave of his hand he summoned a Death Eater to show her to her room, the mudbloods wand still tucked away in his pocket. When he reached the door he stopped and turned around. “One more thing.”

Before the young witch even knew what was happening she was writhing on the floor in pain.
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Not My Idea