Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Love	By : Lisamilles Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 3973 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All belongs to JK ROWLING.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue
- 2-Chapter 1: a fresh start
- 1
- 2
Hermione Granger.
People believe in 'the one'. Do you believe in that?
Over the last two weeks, ever since we have first met - I have spent some time finding more about you. As ironic as it sounds, there is nothing about you I could find.
You see, I have gone through the Ministry's records. Impersonating officers through illusion spells, obliviating them or simply using an ' imperio'. I tried all of my to go options.
What I found was that there were no records of a 'Hermione Granger.' No record at all. No Gringotts account. No parents. No school traces. No birthdate.
Not an American. I doubt that based on your distinctive London accent. Besides, I have also made a trip to Massuchesetts. Just for you. I found that Ilvermony had no such student named Hermione Granger.
Hogwarts was a straight no. I knew every student from the school till the moment I left. You appear to be a fresh graduate- so we must have been in the same year.
Beauxbatons- another trouble I had to go through, dear. Paris was surprisingly chilly during this time of the year. Again, no student named Hermione Granger.
I wonder why.
Were you ever Hermione? Do you even exist, Hermione Granger? I believe it is your name. Hermione. Daughter of Helen of Troy. Queen of Sicily.
Since I could not discover much about your background except for the fact of your parentage- I have decided to find out more about your current life. I had to make sure you were safe and sound.
A simple modified point-me spell led me to a flat near the outskirts of London. 56 Evans Street, Little Whinging, London. The first floor. #1-02 to be exact.
You have a set morning routine. At 5.15am, you get out of bed to make your breakfast tea. Chamomile if you're feeling stressed. Earl grey if you want a little pick me up. Usually you would finish breakfast at precisely 7am. Shower by 7.30. Leave your flat at 7.50.
I wait for you to apparate. I make my move.
Your flat is warded. Not a problem- I went through them with a breeze within half an hour and you wouldn't even feel them being intruded.
I step into your flat. There are stacks of books. Many on transfiguration, potions, runes and the Dark Arts.
Tom breaths in. He smiles.
Jasmine. Lilies. I remember. The faint scent of rosemary from your hair.
The furniture is shabby, slightly old. You don't mind it.
His fingers approach the tattered cotton of the couch.
Something catches his eye. Black lace draped over the wooden chair.
Tom's mind was in a trance. His mind was occupied with the one memory repeating in his head from the week before.
He had finished work and had made a commitment to stop by Hermione's apartment every night. That one night she had left her curtains slightly open. Tom was curious, he always wanted to know what she was tinkering about in her flat.
My, was it a good decision he made.
She was not wearing stockings, once more( thank salazar). Her shapely toned legs stepping out of those atrociously short skirts she wears. He catches a full glimpse of her red knickers. He swallows hard. Then she had proceeded to take off that black blouse of hers, revealing perfect, firm breasts, heavy in a matching bra. Nipples that were pebbled due to their recent exposure to the cold air. Something stirs in his loins.
He sees her lascivious grin and the bite on her lip.
She does not notice him at all. Instead, she turns around to Tom's delight. The red lace covering her firm arse. He had to stop himself from breaking through the window at that moment.
Her arse wiggles. He hears her soft giggle. Tom chuckled to himself. You really are a treat, Hermione.
The brunette pulls a grey dress over her. It was disappointing. Conservative. A disaster. The tent in his trousers was not going away though.
The memory ends, his nose brushes against the lace. He fingers it. You smell sweet. Exactly how I imagined.
His fingers pocket the lace and he continues wandering through her flat.
I found a half written letter to Albus Dumbledore on your desk. You know him, Hermione? The meddlesome old fool?
Tom reads.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
He rolls his eyes.
I am Hermione Granger.
Her name is real.
I am writing to discuss____
There, that was all she had written.
Hermione, what exactly are you after from Dumbledore? Tom thinks as he leaves her flat, not before attempting to read all of the documents that laid on her table.
You work as a freelance runes translator. People pay decently. I wonder why you would not have chosen a job as a Curse breaker. From your translations I have read, I believe you could do so much better than having an old client looking up your skirt. Let's just say John Mc Cellan found himself in St Mungos the next day with profusely bleeding eyes. Anyway, the point is Hermione- why are you letting yourself be like this? Your job is a block. You can do better. Hermione.
That also applies to your boyfriend. To be frank, Galton Scamander? Oh salazar, of all wizards.
Did you know the other day while I was going through my searches in the ministry, I had found him snogging Isabella Greengrass in the middle of the hallway? And yes you noticed- but you did not do a single thing to solve the problem. You let it pass.
Tom was at the window.
" I'm so sorry, Hermione."
Galton tells that to girls every time, trust me Hermione.
" Galton--"
" I love you Hermione--"
He barely knows you. He has been your boyfriend for two months. He doesn't even know your favourite colour is periwinkle.
"Please forgive me. I didn't mean to do it. Isabella spiked my coffee with amortentia--"
No, you didn't, Galton. You kissed her out of your free will.
Galton Scammander then snogs her to resolve the situation.
Tom leaves, fists curled, eyebrows furrowed. If anyone had seen him at that point of time, his irises were completely red.
He had to leave before Galton started fucking her in front of his very eyes. Fucking the only thing that had mattered in his life at that moment.
You can do better, Hermione. If he came anywhere of making you cum, I bet you would even tell me. But you didn't. Because he didn't.
Tom thinks to himself before sending a bombarda at a tree. He apparates away, leaving behind pieces of destroyed wood and a couple- he was determined to divide.

During these past week, I learnt more about your personality. You like reading. Your favourite book is Hogwarts A History- there are five copies of it on your table.
You like cooking even though every night, I find you opening the window and letting the smoke waft out.
You like experimenting with spells. I love the Avis Spell you have used on Mc Cellan the other day. I could feel the strength of your power easily from a few metres away.
You love chocolates. The Scamander brat makes it a routine to leave behind a box of HONEYDUKES DARK CHOCOLATE 50% CACAO. Of which you toss it out when he leaves. You only eat milk chocolates.
You hate being unproductive. You have a charmed planner to remind you of your overdue work when you have unfulfilling sex with the Scamander brat.
Tom whistles, hands in his front pockets of his coat, blowing warm mist in the air.He walks into the bar. He takes off his new hat. Orders a fire whiskey and sits at the back. He watches her closely.
You were at the Leaky Cauldron.
Piss drunk.
His eyes narrowed as she twirls her hair, smiling at a wizard, who looked old enough to be her father.
Joseph Prewett. Tom recognises him. Works in the aurors' department. He makes a note to himself. He will deal with him later.
The man returns her attention with a suggestive look. Hermione continues chatting and rubbing her thumb against his arm. Eventually the man leaves, the brunette pouts.
Tom shakes his head.
There you were, having that same look of disappointment. You cross your arms, pout those red lips of yours once more. You get up and leave.
And I obliged.
Hermione was staggering through the streets. She must have walked a kilometre or two. Her head was spinning. It was after midnight , no women of her age would have dared to be out at such times. Her head felt like someone had hit her with a Deprimo spell. Heavy.
There were footsteps behind her.
One.
Two.
Three.
"Silencio."
"Immobilius."She heard.
She could barely turn around when a pair of arms wrapped around her. Another carrying her legs. They were dragging her away to a dark corner.
She knew she could not scream. No one could hear her.
" What a pretty witch. Out here during the night." The man had a pudge, his legs thick as his head. " Wearin that thing you call a skirt, eh? Where is your panty house girl?"
" Please." She had mouthed.
" Atkinson. Look at her tits!" The midget standing him tore at her blouse. Hermione gasps, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes." What beauties they are."
" Tonight, little girl. We will have fun. I promise you that." He leers at her, his fingers throwing his coat to the side. The men unbuckle their belts. Vallik lets his bulbous lips run all over her neck.
She could not do anything.
Till she heard this voice, a voice she had heard half a century ahead. But it's not Voldemort, it's Riddle.
" We are going to have so much fun right now. I promise you that." A sinister glow appears on his face. The men fumble off the girl to grab their wands. They were too late.
" Immobolius." Oh how the tables have turned.
" Finite incantatem." He lifts the spell on her, Hermione shivers, stumbling away.
" Crucio." Tom drawls and says another silencing spell, his eyes looking in concern at her.
Hermione sat there, speechless as he continued his ministrations on the men.
Sweetheart, they were fools to believe you were alone.
I had to follow you, Hermione. A girl strolling out the surrounding alleys of Knockturn, especially at one am? I needed to assure myself by seeing you back at your flat, safe and sound. A man has to protect himself, you know?
He murmurs spells even his most disobedient followers had not ever received. Spells that turned the men's insides to instant mush. Their screams were music to his ears. Tom had to stop the smile that was threatening to creep up onto his face. Hermione is here. He tells himself.
Then another light hit them, they were throwing up blood and their own watery remnants of organs. Bones were growing out of their bodies. Once the men had turned into a puddle of skin and blood. Tom ended the scene by transfiguring them into dung. He casts a notice-me-not spell in the area.
He doubted anyone would miss them.
Tom looked at Hermione and approaches her worriedly. She was staring at him. Shaken, half- drunk. She looked afraid. Her words came out,"I... "
Tonight I was so glad I had followed you. If I wasn't there, where would you have been, Hermione?
" Are you alright, Miss Granger? Now let's get you back home. Shall we?" He took off his thick coat and wrapped it over her quivering body. She nodded and they went back to her flat, less than a minute later. His arm keeping her close to him.
Like I said, I would protect you. I would give anything to ensure your safety. I have never felt this emotion in my life before. But it comes back to me when I am around you, Hermione. You are different. You are not just any witch. You are not just any mud blood. You are mine. And I would never let you go. I promise.
And also Joseph Prewett? This is the last time you are ever going to see Hermione.
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