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Entwined	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 6067 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Entwined
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Chapter 2
"Souls Theory?" Hermione read the title out loud.
"Checked that one last week. About as useful as its owner," Voldemort replied from where he was sitting.
A wry grin appeared on Hermione's face as she looked through the books in the Malfoy's personal library.
"The Theories of—wait, what?" She squinted her eyes at the title, wondering if she'd read it wrong.
"The Theories of Chicken Soup and Their Effects on Devil's Snare. No, you did not read it wrong," Voldemort replied without looking away from the tome in his hands.
She rolled her eyes and continued to hunt for a book that might hold the key to getting Voldemort's soul out of her.
Suddenly, the title of a book caught her eyes. "Have you read that one? The Connection Between the Soul and a Wizard?"
Voldemort glanced at her before closing the book in his hand and placing it on the table. Swirling out of the chair, he glided over to where Hermione was standing.
"Where?"
"Over there," she pointed to one of the higher shelves.
With a flick of his wand, the book fell into Voldemort's hands. However, at the same time, she saw another book that also looked like a potential book for answers.
"What about that one?" she asked.
"Wait, Hermione," he said, his red eyes skimming through the contents of the book at a fast pace.
Sighing, Hermione turned back to the bookshelves. She tentatively tested the sturdiness of one of the lower shelves before climbing on them. She climbed onto the third shelf from the bottom before she could touch the book that had caught her eyes.
"Come on," she muttered to herself.
"What are you doing?" Voldemort's voice traveled to her ears.
"Just a second," she replied through gritted teeth as she stretched her arm to the limit.
She nudged the bottom of the book until it moved out slightly, enough for her to grab the spine. With a triumphant yell, she pulled the book out, but her cheer was quickly turned into a yelp. She hadn't realized, or rather, she hadn't seen that there were other books on top of said book, and they came tumbling down on top of her.
With a crash, she fell on top of Voldemort, who had been standing behind her. They both fell on to the floor, with her sitting on top of him, and thus, knocking the wind out of him. At the same time, the door to the library opened.
A strangled noise came from Draco Malfoy's throat as he took in the scene in front of him.
"I'm sorry, my Lord," he squeaked, taking an incredulous look at Hermione before exiting the room and slamming the door behind him.
It was then that Hermione realized that their position was, to say the least, incriminating, causing her cheeks to flare up.
"Would you mind getting off me already, Hermione?" Voldemort requested, sounding exasperated.
"He's going to get the wrong impression!" she screeched as she scrambled off his body and stood up.
"And your point is?" he asked as he waved his wand over his body to run a simple diagnosis test.
Somehow, he still managed to look almost regal, sitting on the floor with some books scattered around him.
"He might tell everyone else," she added, trying to make him see what the problem was.
"That Hermione Granger was fornicating with Lord Voldemort in his library?" he asked, amused.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, distraught.
To Hermione's horror, he shrugged. If she hadn't remembered who he was, she might've opted to stomp over to him and kick him, but as it was, she contented her with sending daggers at him.
"Granger," he sighed, "you're thinking too much into the situation—"
"Thinking too much? Thinking too much? Did you see the look on his face before he ran out?"
"He could've been simply surprised to see you here," he pointed out.
"Yes, here, in his library, on top of you," she said, her voice an octave higher than usual.
"Well, the situation could've been worse, like having young Malfoy on top of me," he deadpanned.
Hermione's mouth dropped open. There were so many things ridiculous about his answer that she didn't even know where to begin. She knew that he had a dry sense of humor, but joking about something like this? When Draco Malfoy could easily go out and start spreading rumors about him having sex with a Muggle-born witch? What was he thinking?
However, those became less important because of another issue at hand.
"Did you just compare me to Draco Malfoy?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes dangerously.
His red eyes glinted with amusement. "I suppose I owe you an apology."
It didn't sound very sincere, but Hermione decided to take what she could get and went on to the next subject.
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
"About what?"
"About Draco Malfoy!"
"I suppose we can kill him, but his father would be—"
"I'm being serious around here!" she fumed.
He rolled his eyes. "Hermione dear, we had clothes on."
"As if it's not possible to have sex with clothes on," she ranted. "For all he knows, we could've just had our pants off—"
He eyed her with amusement and renewed interest. "Never took you for the unconventional type. Thought you would've been more of the romantic, light-up-the-candles type of girl. Or maybe 'Let's recite the ten rules to perfect wand-waving' type. But definitely not the kinky, 'Let's have sex in someone else's library like heated bunnies that can't be bothered with taking their clothes off properly' type."
She stared at him, not knowing how to answer to that. Was she seriously having a conversation about something like this with Lord Voldemort in Malfoy's library? She was starting to doubt her own sanity. Not to mention she hated how he was twisting her words around, and she told him exactly that.
He sighed. "Then what do you propose we do?"
"Explain it to him. Or something."
"Or something," he repeatedly sardonically with a roll of his eyes. "As if that wouldn't be more conspicuous, Granger. Just leave him alone. You're giving him too much credit. He has the courage of a ferret—"
She uncontrollably snorted at his choice of animal.
"—and wouldn't want to attract my attention, something which he would be doing if he dared to say anything about my … sexual escapades with a Mudblood witch who happened to be his classmate."
She bit into her lower lip, still worried about the whole situation though she knew what he said made sense.
"Now, are you going to continue worrying about something as insignificant as young Malfoy, or are we going to continue going through the books?" he asked, picking up a book that was sitting beside him.
Without waiting for an answer from her, he opened the book in his hand and started flipping through it.
She continued staring at him for a while, but it became clear that he had opted to ignore her. Though not completely satisfied with how the whole situation had turned out (as far as Hermione was concerned, a small Memory Charm on Draco Malfoy wouldn't do much harm), she sat down on the floor and grabbed one of the books that had fallen off the shelf.
After a couple of minutes and books later, a sudden snort from Voldemort caused her to look up. His eyes flickered towards her, and the smirk on his face deepened.
"What?" she asked.
Still smirking, he held out the book in his hand to her. With curiosity, she grabbed it and flipped through it without reading the title. A furious blush appeared on her face after she read the first page, and she closed it when a snap and glared at him.
"You can't say that it's not … amusingly coincidental," he said.
"Not funny," she remarked.
"That's because you have a dreadful sense of humor."
"That's not true," she defended herself. "I don't see how not finding a book about sex magic 'funny' equates to having a dreadful sense of humor."
"In combination with what just happened? I think it's rather hilarious," he assessed. He peered at the book. "If you're too mortified to look through it, I would like to take another look at it."
She pushed down the condescension and snarky comments that threatened to spill from her lips and said bossily, "We're looking for books about souls, just in case you'd forgotten. We're not exactly here for a school trip."
He sighed exaggeratedly. "Which is why I never agreed with Hogwarts' curriculum in taking out all lectures about dark magic. If they hadn't done that, you would've known that a lot of sex magic has direct connections with the soul, though I'd have to admit that I'd forgotten that little piece of information before I saw that book. I wanted to look through that book because a solution might be in there, not because of those tasteless jokes that are going through that bushy-haired head of yours right now."
The blush came back to her cheeks full force, and she held the book as far away from him as she could.
"Ev-even if there is a solution, yo-you can't possibly th-think about going through—"
He eyed her carefully. "I want my soul pieces out of your body as soon as possible."
"Bu-but that doesn't mean … I'm Muggle-born. Y-you're …" she trailed off, not knowing what to say.
He tilted his head to one side and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you want those soul pieces out of you or not, Hermione?"
"Of course I want them out! Why wouldn't I?"
He shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? Perhaps you think it would be a perfect way to keep my souls hostage … or perhaps you've grown attached to them."
"Yeah right," she answered dryly. "I'm completely in love with your soul pieces—"
"I'd guessed that much, seeing how quickly you assumed it looked like we were copulating on the floor."
"—so much that I want them out of my body as soon as possible. It was Malfoy who'd thought that, not me!" she protested.
He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling before looking back at her again. "So are you going to read through that book or are you going to give it to me?"
Her preferred option wasn't on the list, to be honest, so she opted with the lesser of the two evils. "I'll go through the book."
The smirk returned onto his face. "Sure you can handle it?"
"It's just sex magic," she said stonily.
"Suit yourself," he answered as he picked up another book.
After the first couple of pages, Hermione regretted her decision. Not that she was a virgin, but some of the things depicted in the book were mind-boggling while others were blush-inducing.
"Would you like me to cast an Aguamenti on you, dear? I think I can fry an egg on your cheeks by now," Voldemort commented lazily.
She gave him a dirty look, though it didn't stop her from wondering if he had ever tried any of the spells inside the book. That opened up another can of worms, and soon her mind was traveling down a completely inappropriate trail.
Images started to form in her head, unbidden, and caused her cheeks to feel even warmer than before, and she nearly wanted to bury her face into the book. This was absurd. She was not mentally conjuring up sexual scenes featuring Lord Voldemort in the middle of Malfoy's library.
Shaking her head, she forced herself to concentrate on the book instead of letting curiosity get the best of her.
A title caught her attention, and the blood drained from her face when she realized that what Voldemort had said was true. There was a whole section in the book dedicated to the link between magic and souls, and she had the niggling feeling that the answer might be on any page now.
Her hands slightly shaking, she flipped through the pages, and then, the answer was laid bare in front of her.
No, no, no. There had to be some other option. Please let there be another option.
"Hm …"
Hermione quickly looked up and asked, "Did you find something?"
"This might work," he answered, waving his hand over the book in front of him.
Hope seemed to make the world slightly brighter, and she quickly scooted over to read what he had found. She blanched when she saw what it said.
"No."
He sighed tiresomely. "Hermione …"
"You don't know if it'll work, and you've already said that the soul pieces in my body are not made to be held in Horcruxes. Putting another piece of your soul inside my body will probably make the situation worse, and I'm not about to watch you murder someone for a plan that might not work," she said firmly. "So the answer is no."
A cold laugh left his lips. "What makes you think you're in charge here?"
She stilled as his words processed in her mind.
"Because I have been lenient with you for the past couple of weeks, Granger? Or perhaps you feel that I'm getting … sentimental towards you because I've spent some time with you so I'll be willing to follow your orders?"
The redness of his eyes were like fires from the depths of hell now, threatening to scorch and burn her to ashes any minute now, and Hermione realized that his patience had run thin with her continued disapproval on things.
"There could be other options—" she began to say.
"I've looked through nearly all of Malfoy's book collections, Granger. This is the only way I've seen so far, and like I've said, I prefer to get this over and done with. I've been neglecting other plans because of this inconvenience, and I'm not about to let it hinder me any longer."
"I've found another spell," she quickly said, placing the book she had been reading in front of him.
The title on top of the page, "Magic Mingling Ritual," suddenly seemed so glaringly obvious, and Hermione determinedly avoided looking at the pictures drawn on the page. She'd read it before, of course, when her eyes first landed on it. It was a ritual to heighten the sexual pleasures of the people participating in the ritual through using magic at its rawest form. The whole thing didn't seem too complex, but she couldn't fathom how anyone could be as ecstatic as the people depicted in the drawings.
Voldemort remained silent as he read and reread the contents displayed on the page.
"Magic Mingling Ritual …" he finally spoke, his voice soft.
"You've said that the souls are inside my body because they're attached to my magical core, but … your magical core should have a stronger pull towards your soul pieces. If your magic enters my body, perhaps they'll … I don't know, re-enter your body in that way," she said.
Her cheeks felt hot, and when his eyes flickered towards her face, she felt her body temperature rise another couple of notches.
"It requires sexual intercourse," he said matter-of-factly.
"I know. The book is about sex magic," she replied, her voice higher than usual.
"You were opposed to it," he pointed out.
"It's … the lesser of the two evils," she said with some difficulty.
"It might not work," he added, leaning with his back against the table.
"None of the spells might work," she muttered. "Nobody's cra—nobody had tried to split their souls into so many pieces and then attempted to put them back together, so I doubt there will be cases where they would need to get their souls out of someone else's body."
He gave her a look that told her he knew exactly what she was about to say, but she maintained a blank look on her face and waited for his decision.
They looked at one another for so long that Hermione almost thought that he was going to say no, and then, much to her relief, he slowly nodded.
"Very well then."
Things were often easier said than done, and in Hermione's case, she had to say that even the "saying" part came with a good amount of difficulty, too.
She could tell herself as many times as she wanted that "It was just sex", but it didn't change the fact that she felt more than a little uptight. However, what terrified her even more was when the idea of sleeping with Lord Voldemort didn't disgust her as much as she thought it would.
Perhaps it was because she knew she had to do this. It could be because she knew she had no other choice. Maybe it was because she knew it prevented an innocent life from being taken. However, other than anxiety, she didn't feel the other negative emotions that she knew should be associated with "sleeping with Lord Voldemort."
Never mind how she'd previously believed him to be some sexless creature who didn't have needs.
Well, that explains why he keeps Bellatrix Lestrange around.
She shook that thought from her head, though that didn't stop her from envisioning herself in Bellatrix's place.
Stop!
Just because she was about to sleep with him didn't mean that she was going to stoop so low as to do his bidding and follow him around like a lovesick puppy. It was an one-time thing. After he got his soul pieces out of her, everything would be back to normal. She should be more worried about how she could escape after he did get his soul fragments back.
She was so immersed in her thoughts that she nearly jumped when Voldemort Apparated into the room without a sound. He raised a non-existent eyebrow at her when he saw the expression on her face.
"It's not the first time I've Apparated in here," he said, amused. "Or you're having seconds thoughts about our … plan?"
There was an underlying challenge to his words, and she was never one to back down from a challenge. Resolutely, she shook her head, though she couldn't help but wonder if she would regret it later on.
"Have you showered yet?" he asked.
She looked at him, surprised.
A faint smirk appeared on his face. "We have to go through the motions, so we might as well enjoy ourselves."
She suddenly wished that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. His words were actually quite normal, but it made her conscious of the situation she had placed herself in. Perhaps he was doing it on purpose.
"And I'm not letting you into my bed before you've cleaned yourself," he added much to her mortification.
She stalked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She let out a deep breath as she leaned against the wall, wondering if she were doing the right thing. She doubted he would let her out of the deal now. Unless she said okay to murdering someone.
She groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. How did she end up in a situation like this? With a heavy heart, she stripped off her clothes, stepped into the shower, and turned the water on to the hottest she could take. The water spilled onto her, clearing her mind somewhat and somehow washing away her wariness.
Having sex with Lord Voldemort shouldn't be high on her list of worries. Getting out of here alive should be her priority. Her chances were low, especially since she didn't even have her wand anymore; he hadn't given it back to her yet. If he got … too excited, perhaps she could steal his wand along the way? Then again, she was never certain where he kept his wand.
Attempting to kill him wouldn't work until he had all the soul fragments inside his body. Perhaps that was the route she should travel down?
"Are you trying to drown yourself in there, Granger?"
His sarcastic words were slightly muffled by the walls, but nonetheless, loud enough for her to clearly hear what he'd said.
With a sigh, she turned off the water and realized in horror that she'd forgotten to ask which towel she could use.
"Um … I don't have a towel," she called.
"Use the one on the rack," he answered, and she could almost imagine him rolling his eyes.
"That's your towel, isn't it?" she asked worrisomely.
A span of nearly ten seconds passed before he spoke again, "Granger—"
"Okay, okay, I get it," she immediately replied, knowing exactly what he was going to say next.
Awkwardly, she grabbed the towel on the rack and dried herself before wrapping it around her body. For a moment, she wondered if she should get dressed but decided not to. It would be a bit pointless after all.
She opened the door and walked into the bedroom again, only to find him in bed with his chest bare, reading a book. He must've heard the door open, since he immediately looked up. When he saw her standing there, he marked the place he had been reading, placed the book on the bedside table, and motioned for her to go to the bed.
"Um … don't you need to shower first?" she asked, her legs not budging at all.
"So you can think about ways to get out of this for a bit longer before concluding it's our only option?" he teased. "I've already showered in another bathroom."
"Oh," she answered.
Adopting the pace of a snail, she shuffled over to the bed.
"Do I need to recite the ten rules of wand-waving before we begin?" he asked when she reached the edge of the bed.
The faux innocent look on his face was so out of place that Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud. However, that quickly turned into a yelp when he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer.
"Your final chance to get out of this," he said, his eyes glinting with humor.
"You know I wouldn't choose to kill someone for the sake of saving myself," she told him.
"Bloody Gryffindors and their silly need to save everything with a pulse," he scoffed.
She bit the inside of her cheeks to prevent herself from saying anything.
"Get on the bed," he ordered, releasing her arm and moving over to make room for her.
Tentatively, she sat on the bed, all the while grabbing onto the edge of her towel. She was uncomfortably aware that he was looking at her, and instead of making her relax, she clutched the towel just a bit harder.
She sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, not sure in regards to whether he wanted her to lie down or remain sitting. She let out a gasp when his fingers danced over the skin of her shoulder and involuntarily shivered. She felt the bed move, and almost too slowly, he moved her hair to the side.
"Relax," he whispered before placing a kiss on the spot right behind her ear and slowly nibbling downwards toward her neck.
"Sh-shouldn't we just get this o-over and done with?" she stuttered, her heart pounding painfully against her chest, though she had no idea if it were because of fear or something else any longer.
Must be the soul pieces, she attempted to tell herself. After all, it wasn't the first time close contact with him had made her want to melt into his touch. Nonetheless, a traitorous voice in the back of her head spoke, telling her that that wasn't true, that it had nothing to do with the soul pieces.
He laughed softly against her skin. "I'm not into rape fantasies, Hermione. If I were, people wouldn't think of me as being … sexless and without needs."
She should've known that he would be snooping around her mind. However, that thought was thrown to the back of her mind, when his fingers curled around her arms and he started nipping at a particularly sensitive area on her neck. Releasing her arm, one of his hands moved upwards and tilted her head around, and then, his lipless mouth captured hers.
Her other arm was released, and his free hand slipped to hers and pulled it away from the towel. She subconsciously acknowledged the towel slipping away as his fingers danced across her skin, causing goosebumps to appear all over her body. Almost gently, he turned her around and maneuvered her down to the bed, so that she was lying on the silk sheets, without interrupting their kiss.
The way he touched her, the way he kissed her, was like the way he did everything else—with precision and concentration. Hermione had no other choice but to follow his lead.
Never going to think of him as a sexless creature again.
However, the stubborn side of her mind refused to cave in. She bit down on her lips to stop herself from whining in protest when he did something she particularly liked. He looked at her, and it was then that she realized that his eyes were a shade darker than usual; they reminded her of the expensive wine her grandfather used to keep for special occasions.
"Enjoy yourself, Hermione," he murmured, his voice hardly louder than a hiss, "or else the spell wouldn't work. You've read the book. Your magic won't be loose enough for the ritual to be completed. If you need to scream, moan, or move, I will not stop you."
A devious smile appeared on his face, and on other occasions, she might've been frightened. With a flick of his wrist, his wand appeared, and with a quick wave, he performed the spell as was dictated by the book followed by what she recognized as a kind of contraceptive spell.
Without further warning, he continued in his manipulations, eliciting moans and gasps from her lips with each flame he planted on her body. Her senses exploded as he moved against her until she couldn't feel anything else except for him and only him.
It took a while for her heartrate to return to normal. He settled her on the bed, and Hermione could feel him moving behind her.
"A-are the soul pieces out?" she asked quietly, her eyes looking at everything in the room but him.
"Yes," he answered, his voice neutral, and since he was behind her, she couldn't see his expression.
She swallowed hard, realizing that this was it, she was going to die. She waited for the infamous yew wand to flash out before a green streak of light crashed into her, ending her life. However, seconds and minutes passed. When nothing happened, she took a tentative look behind her and found him lounging against the headboard and reading the book he had been looking at before.
She continued staring until he looked up. He raised a non-existent eyebrow at her.
"Not tired yet?" he asked.
She thought she was imagining it when she saw a faint, wicked smirk appear on his face. However, she blinked and it was still there.
"Uh … I thought …" she trailed off, not certain how to express her confusion towards the absence of a Killing Curse being sent her way.
"Well, if you're not tired yet …" he said with a nod as he put the book back on the bedside table again.
Her eyes widened, and she scooted backwards when he reached towards her, his intentions obvious. That snapped her out of her confusion, and the words came out much more easily than she'd thought they would be.
"Aren't you going to kill me? You have your soul pieces back already, so I thought my usefulness to you ended."
She was glad she sounded so much more braver than she really felt. The last thing she needed was to be said she went down like a coward.
"Do you want me to kill you?"
"No," she answered. "Well … I don't know. I thought …"
"You think that I should kill you?" he asked.
"I don't know," she repeated. "It's just … your actions aren't corresponding with what you did in the past. I'm a Muggle-born witch, I'm part of the Order of the Phoenix. You wouldn't want me to be alive for just those two reasons, let alone everything else."
"Don't know what land you came from, but it sounds like you're trying to convince me to kill you. Rather vehemently, if I were to assess your attitude," he said, arching his leg up, placing his elbow on the knee, and resting his chin on top of his hand.
"It doesn't make sense to me," she replied.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, the expression on his face cryptic. "Perhaps I don't feel like killing you today."
That ticked her off. "So you're just saying that you're keeping me around like—like some plaything of yours?"
"Delightful suggestion, but no."
"Then what?" she questioned, frustrated.
He gazed at her quietly for a span of a few seconds before he spoke again, "Perhaps I'm keeping you alive because I see potential in you."
She faltered and stared at him as if he'd just grown two heads. "What are you talking about?"
"You have a lot of potential in you, Granger," he said, not the least bit frugal with his compliments, "and I'm not just talking about that mind of yours. Though I have to agree with the assessment that you do have quite an intelligent brain. No, your magical capacity is beyond what you imagine—"
"That still doesn't make sense to me," she interrupted. "Are you telling me that you're letting me, a potential strong enemy of yours, live because I can be trained?"
He laughed, a high, cold laugh that had the hair at the back of her neck standing up.
"Are you so certain that we will be enemies forever, Granger?" he questioned, fixing her with a piercing stare. "I've seen it in your eyes. You want all of this to end. You don't want this constant fighting and running. You want your world to go back to the peace that you've been living in before the war started."
"The war that you've started," she argued.
"Touché, so wouldn't it make sense for you to … attempt to make changes from the inside?" he asked.
There was a sprinkle of sarcasm that didn't escape Hermione's attention.
She laughed bitterly. "Yeah, the Dark Lord taking suggestions from a Mudblood. That'll be the day."
He appeared amused and countered, "I allowed you to live."
Again, he'd stumped her, and his explanation was too weak. She didn't trust him in the least, but she also knew that he wasn't going to give her the answers she wanted.
"So you're keeping me here as a prisoner?" she asked quietly, wanting to know what her position was now.
"For the time being."
She gazed at him, requesting with her eyes for a further explanation.
"Until you swear your loyalty to me, I cannot allow you near my other followers."
She hated how he'd grouped her in with the Death Eaters, and she told him just that.
"You may not bear my Mark, but deep inside, you know you belong to me," he said. And she couldn't help but stare when he added, "And one day, you know you'll acknowledge it yourself."
After a long and pointless debate with her, in which she insisted that she would never sway over to the dark side, he watched from his bed as Hermione climbed into her bed and went to sleep.
With a flick of his wand, he dimmed the candles in the room. A smirk appeared on his face as he recalled the conversation he'd just had with her.
He hadn't been lying when he'd told her that his soul pieces were back inside him. However, he didn't tell her that she was now also a key to his immortality. A small piece of his magic was now residing inside her body, and as long as she lived, so would he.
The only things he had to do right now were prevent her from finding out that little piece of information and turn her to his side.
Though it might be hard to sway his little Mudblood, he was certain that she would bow down to him one day. It was in her magic. She might not realize it, but her potential for all kinds of magic was higher than she knew, or else his soul fragments wouldn't have latched on to her magical core so readily. He hadn't been lying when he said that they were compatible in magic.
Then again, it seemed like it wasn't just their magic that was compatible.
His smile deepened when he recalled their … activity. This one surprised him on too many occasions, and it would be a pity to off her so easily.
No, this witch was his. And he was never going to let her go.
~-0-~
Fin.
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Entwined