Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 37648 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
Warning: animal cruelty up ahead. "Disclaimer:" no real life rabbits have been harmed for the making of this chapter. XD

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

So when you look at me

you better look hard and look twice

Is that me baby or just a brilliant disguise

Tonight our bed is cold

I'm lost in the darkness of our love

God have mercy on the man

Who doubts what he's sure of

Bruce Springsteen, Brilliant disguise

Chapter twenty-one

Lord Voldemort picks up the Devil's Book and places it in his lap, before he glances sideways to the couch. A large bush of brown frizzy hair hangs over the armrest, because its owner is lying there on her back in a seeming lazily posture. Her legs are bend in order for the book, she is reading vigorously, to lean against them. She reads fast. The pace, in which the pages are turned, is somewhat startling even to him. But then again, it isn't high literature she is trying to take in at the moment. It's a historical report on Everon.

All things considering, it is probably for the best, if she is to stay clear from some of the Dark Arts Volumes for a while. The incident with the Devil's Book is still fresh in his mind and he is not at all happy with the appearance of that stupid vortex. It's a clear indication that the book considered Hermione a serious threat and was planning to get rid of her. He still isn't certain what to think of it, let alone what to tell her. It is the only reason he had been taunting her about her questions and avoided answering them. He had been stalling for time, so he would get the opportunity to think of something to tell her that suits his plans for her and is not contradictory to everything that happened. He can't possibly allow her to find out that the Devil's Book recognised her darkness, stimulated her to use it at its full extend, and then decided she could not be swayed and needed to be eliminated…

Lord Voldemort knows it is the only explanation to what happened, but telling her that, will undoubtedly relieve her of some of her fears of falling and that may strengthen her resolve to keep resisting him. And he just can't have that. He just can't. It will become too contra productive, if she knows this.

His eyes dart between the book on his desk and the witch on his couch; his witch. The book is wrong. She can be swayed. If it hadn't been for that Amulet he would have already succeeded in pulling her in that night when she cracked and lost it. He will sway her. Maybe she isn't ready yet, but she will be in time. That's all he needs, time. Still, it is incredibly unusual for someone to be able to use the powers of the Devil's Book and then resist the darkness that comes with those powers. And it wasn't the Amulet that protected her. He saw the stone. It was lightless and powerless when he held her in his arms. He had to prevent her from going to the vortex himself, since that piece of Elfin junk did nothing for her there. The Amulet had been unable to block the sheer force of the Dark Arts that flew through the room and it was rendered completely useless to Hermione. So she resisted the lure of the Dark Arts all on her own. This is rather troublesome, but still… he isn't going to lose her. She is his, period.

Hermione yawns, laces her fingers into each other and stretches her arms out above her head. Her curvy, slender figure becomes accentuated by her movement and he watches her intensely. She looks beautiful in that simple outfit she is wearing; a burgundy blouse and black pants. Her hands rub through her hair briefly, and he sees her stare at the ceiling, before flipping another page and continuing to read. Yes, he is definitely not letting this one slip through his fingers. She is bright, fiery, powerful, stunning, and his. He just knows she belongs with him. He just knows it.

His fingers are tapping on the book and he opens it. A sideway glance to Hermione is all it takes to convince him that she is too engaged in her own reading to notice what he is doing. A small wave of his hand and he nonverbally demands the book to show him precisely what happened. And he sees it all, even the things Hermione missed due to her entranced state. Astonished, he closes the Devil's book and stares at the girl. She is even more powerful than he already thought.

What to tell her? He already knew she pulled him out of that imploding house just in a nick of time. He had purposely dropped his hold on her magic and flung what he had taken, along with the majority of his own, back to her, the moment he realised the magic, which attacked him, could not be contained by him. It had been a long shot, but it certainly paid off. One second later and he would have been pulverised. She had intuitively saved him through their connection.

Sure, he had to credit some part of that safe to the Devil's Book. He saw how she became distressed and anxious the moment her magic along with a large bulk of his entered her body and how she got to her feet confused. The book felt the darkness next to it and activated, showing Hermione the right attributes to deal with the situation as it deemed fit. But still, her intuitive magic noticed something was off. Her magic created the portal and hermagic Apparated him out of there. She used the Force of Nature in a manner that highly trained individuals would have had a problem with in achieving.

And then, the book wanted her to finish him off, so she could take full possession of her dark powers and become the powerful dark witch the book wanted her to be. But she had resisted and had not allowed darkness to overcome her. When the book realised it was failing in turning someone that powerful, it decided to finish her off instead and created the pull of the vortex, determined to drag her soul into the void of the other realm, into nothingness and despair. If successful, she wouldn't have been more than an empty shell right now; a breathing, living no one. Similar to someone, who had been kissed by a dementor.

A breath of relieve escapes his mouth. The book would have succeeded if he hadn't been there to stop it from happening. Thanks to her dazed state of mind, he was able to reclaim his magic from her immediately, and he conjured a shield of invisibility around them, disabling the vortex ability to recognise Hermione's darkness. It had searched and searched for a dark soul, until it found one and it had swallowed it whole, thinking it was her. Briefly, he wonders whose it could have taken, but frankly, he really doesn't care that much as long as it wasn't hers.

He looks back at the Devil's Book. The runes have turned undecipherable again, indicating the dormant state the book is in. But he needs to get this away from her. He can't risk it activating again and destroying Hermione. He just can't allow that to happen. He just can't. In a blink of an eye, he whirls out of his chair. Flipping out his wand, he summons four other Dark Arts Books from his shelves that he now also deems too risky. And then, using a part of her magic as well, he Apparates away with the five books to dump them in one of the extra security vaults at Gringotts.

It takes him some time to achieve it, due to the apprehension of the Goblins upon recognising the books in question. They don't seem particularly thrilled to have to secure items such as these, but he isn't concerned about the wellbeing and state of mind of Goblins. So he forces the issue by appealing to their vanity. Goblins are so easy to piss off. Just a simple remark that they can't contain a powerful wizard's item and bingo! One vault is made available. He sets a few extra barriers of his own around it, remembering the disaster with the Lestrange's vault very clearly. When he is certain that the book will no longer pose a threat to Hermione, he Apparates back to his quarters at Hogwarts.

'Crack.'

A loud snoring noise is the first thing that greets him upon his arrival back in the study. Lord Voldemort looks sideway to the couch in amusement, because there sleeps, in a very unladylike manner, Hermione Jean Granger. He has to stifle a laugh, since he doesn't want to wake her, but she is quite a sight at the moment. One of her legs is dangling over the rear back of the couch, while an arm is hanging over the edge of the seating on the other side. The book she was reading has tumbled to the ground and her blouse is wrinkled and has rotated around her in a manner that makes the skin on the lower half of her torso quite visible. Her head is tilted backwards over the armrest and her mouth stands wide ajar, making her drool all over her cheek. He should take pictures … and blackmail her with it. That'll make her join him. Finally, the ultimate solution to all his problems. Another noisy snore, and he chuckles, enjoying himself quite a lot.

When he is through being entertained with Hermione's weird posture and the delightful opportunities it hands him, he strolls towards her. She is going to be incredibly sore, if she wakes after lying in that position for a long time. And it is rather cold in here. Come to think of it, she does look extremely pale. Carefully, he checks the temperature of her skin. She is freezing.

'But I've written much more, Professor McGonagall,' Hermione mutters, when he touches her.

'I am sure you did, dear,' Voldemort replies amused and he pulls out his wand, and levitates her to his bedroom, so he won't wake her.

'Fifty inches of parchment, all gone,' Hermione mumbles as he lowers her in the bed and transfigures her outfit into something more appropriate. In rapid succession a Cleansing and Warming Charm follow, after which he tucks her in with a couple of extra blankets. There, much better…

She stirs underneath his hands. 'Fifty.'

He smiles and strokes her hair softly. 'Sleep tight, Hermione,' he whispers and kisses her on her forehead.

'Mum?'

He freezes and watches her concerned as she begins to toss and turn in the bed. 'Mum? Where are you?' Hermione mumbles distressed.

Shall he wake her? No, it just a dream and she needs the rest.

'Daddy?'

His mouth twitches and something stings in his chest. He takes a step forward, wishing to take her in his arms and comfort her. It's his fault, she can't see her parents. He practically turned her into an orphan. It's entirely his fault that she is hurting and it pains him severely. Remorseful, he touches her face.

'It's alright, Hermione, you're safe. Everything is going to be fine,' he whispers.

In her sleep, she leans into his touch. 'Harry?' Hermione asks mumbling.

Like he has been stung by a bee, he withdraws his hand.

'Don't go, Harry, we're in this together.'

Harry Potter! How dare she bring up that … that blasted nail on his coffin again? After everything he has done for her! After everything he offered her! And she has the nerve to mention Potter! He'll show her. Making him feel … all these kinds of despicable, disgustingly weak emotions, and then, just trample all over them. A flick of his wrist and his wand appears in there. A vile smile graces his marble-white skin as he aims at the sleeping witch. He truly and utterly hates her, and he will show her who she thought she was messing with.

'Cru…AAAHHH!'

The screams leave his lips as it feels like he is being hit with a sharp blade directly in his heart. And a second later, he topples over and crashes to the floor unconscious, for the third time.

…

Excited, a five year old, pitch-black haired, pale boy sneaks through the corridors of the orphanage in the middle of the night. He will get back at him tonight, stupid Billy Stubbs. How dare he call him all those foul names? Calling him a thief! So what if he took something from Billy's drawer, he wanted it. And he always gets what he wants. Only not this time, and the expression on his face darkens considerably. Mrs Cole made him give the pencil back to Billy. But Tom knows just what to do. Stubby just loves his rabbit. He even pets it before going to sleep every night. Yuck! Stupid animals. Whenever he gets the chance, he pinches them, hard.

Voices are fluttering from the back room and he hears Mrs Cole's somewhat slurred speech. He halts for a moment, but she hasn't heard him and he squeezes himself through the narrow opening between the locked door and the slightly bend and croaked wooden beam. He always fits through it, even though it seems impossible for any human being to be able to pass through there. But they just don't want to do it enough. That is the reason why he fits through it and others don't. They lack determination. Stealthy, he runs towards the garden shed, but no one ever sees him, because it is not what he wants.

Quickly, he walks past the animal cages, until he stands in front of one fluffy white bunny. His face wrinkles in disgust as the rabbit pushes its nose into the bars of the cage, hoping for a carrot. And he slams his hand against the bars, hitting the rabbit's nose roughly. That'll teach the thing, he is not some walking food machine. Tom's head swivels left and right to make certain he is alone and he opens the cage trembling with excitement. Almost feverish with exhilaration, he watches how the stupid rabbit just sits there, waiting to be petted, no doubt. He stretches out his hand and his eyes flash overjoyed with anticipation.

With a harsh pull he lifts the rabbit by its ears and it starts twisting and writhing. His cheeks flush and his eyes widen in pleasure at the sight of the distressed rabbit. He dangles the poor animal around by its ears and its limbs trash and flounder. He wishes it would scream. That would be nice to hear. And when he breaks a leg, he gets his wish. The utmost blood curling, gruesome, high-pitched scream torments his eardrums. And it is incredibly loud! Others will hear this! Panicking, he closes his fingers around the stupid bunny's mouth, but the damn thing bites him. So he hits it on the head in fury. And it still shrieks dreadfully loud.

'Silence, silence,' he thinks alarmed and annoyed with the dreadful ear piercing sound.

His handkerchief! Quickly, he binds it around the beast mouth and hides in the corner of the shed. A door slams open in the distance and he hears someone scuffle around. A metal dustbin crashes to the ground and the screech of a cat flares through the air.

'Stupid, horny cats,' slurs Mrs Cole, and finally, she walks back indoors.

Furious, he looks at the rabbit in his hands. It almost got him caught and bit him! So he pulls his pocket knife and he cuts of an ear. In a trancelike state he watches the blood drip over the white fur. Such a lovely sight. And since it can't scream anymore, he breaks the other leg as well. And another and the last one too. It's just a stupid rabbit after all and it deserves this for biting him. He presses the animal to the ground on its back and it is still writhing underneath his hand. He presses a bit harder and feels the ribcage begin to crack between his fingers.

Little Tom savours the power he feels … to have a life in your hands and have the ability to take it away. He wants to see it. He needs to see it. His left hand folds around the neck of the rabbit and he starts squeezing slowly, while his right hand holds the stupid beast in place. And it's delicious. The way the light leaves its eyes. How the movements still under his hand, under his command, by his doing. How the final breath leaves the thing's mouth. And then, it is over. Panting heavily and smiling broadly, Tom looks down at the lifeless rabbit on the floor. He has never felt happier before.

He stands up and stretches out his arms above his head, closing his eyes, feeling his power. He can do anything. He just knows he can. Condescendingly, he watches the silly, broken beast on the ground. Useless creature. The world is better off without them. He bends over and picks it up. He has to be sure that he is here in the morning when Billy finds his rabbit. A vile smile makes a way across the tiny boy's features. Too bad he can't squash Billy like this. But who knows… maybe someday…

His eyes fall upon the rafters and a short laugh escapes his lips. That will be a nice place to hang the rabbit on! Billy will be desperately searching the shed for the so called escaped rabbit for hours, only for it to be hanging from the roof. But how is he going to get it up there? A flash, and the rabbit disappears from his hand. For a moment he stares at his empty hand disappointed, but slowly, he tilts his head upward and a muffled shout of triumph falls from his lips as he sees the rabbit hang there. Just as he wanted! Things always happen the way he wants them too! Always! He is so going to enjoy Billy's reaction in the morning.

xxx

'Why are you sitting here alone?'

Shocked by the sudden disturbance, ten year old Tom jumps up from the garden bench and holds the little snake behind his back. He stares coldly at the brown haired girl, who stands a few feet away with a large orange cat in her hands. She is wearing the same greyish uniform as he is and she must be around his age, but he is certain he has never seen her before.

'What have you got there?' the girl asks curious.

Clearly, no one has spoken to the girl about him yet, otherwise she wouldn't be so foolish to engage in a conversation with him.

'Why is that any of your business?' he snarls.

She raises her eyebrows. 'Not I suppose,' she replies shrugging and she goes to sit on his bench of all places.

'Who are you?' Tom demands to know, narrowing his dark eyes at her.

'I am Sally Woodburn,' she says, holding out her hand, 'and you are?'

'Tom Riddle,' he says smirking and instead of shaking her hand, he plants the snake in it. Well, she was inquiring what he had there. No harm in informing her, maybe then she'll leave, so he can have his bench back to himself. Unfortunately, she does not exhibit the fearful, screaming response he had been counting on.

'Nice garden snake,' Sally says, holding out the snake away from the now yowling cat. 'You better take her. Blossom loves to hunt for snakes. One time she got into my brother's room and we had a huge row, because she wounded all his pet snakes.'

'Is your brother here too?'

'Oh no, he is all grown up and all. Doesn't need to be here.'

'Why aren't you living with him then?'

The girl bites her lip and starts petting her cat fervently. He notices her eyes are beginning to water and he turns away in disgust. Another cry baby, great … just what this orphanage needs. But the expected sobs do not reach his ears and when he turns back towards Sally, he sees her wipe her face with her sleeve and stare at the cat in silence.

'This is my bench,' he says irritated with this strange girl that does not react like she is supposed too.

'Oh really?' she says surprised, 'did you mark it?'

And he is pretty certain she is now mocking him by pretending to search for just that on the bench. Nobody mocks Tom Riddle, nobody. And he gazes down into the eyes of the cat. He always gets animals to do exactly what he wants, always. And he orders the cat to attack its owner, but the blasted beast begins to hiss at him; at him! And then, a paw with sharp, extended nails flies through the air and it manages to scratch his arm open, even though he jumps back almost immediately. Pushing his hand on the bleeding wound, he sees Sally struggle with her crazy cat.

'Blossom!' Sally shouts and she grabs a tight hold of the angry cat. 'Don't. Blossom! What is the matter with you?'

The girl gets up from his bench, finally, and holds the furious cat away from him. 'Hmm… sorry, don't know what has got into her. It must be the move. Normally, she likes everybody. I hope we can still be friends though.'

'I have no need for friends.'

The annoying girl shrugs. 'You never know until you try,' she says cheerful and skips away.

xxx

'So do you have any girlfriends at your school?' Sally asks bluntly as she hops beside him on the bench.

'Why is that any of your business, Woodburn?' Tom, age fifteen, replies evenly, while pulling the totally expected prefect badge out of the envelope. In a couple of weeks his fifth year at Hogwarts will start and he is really looking forward to leaving this blasted orphanage behind.

'Oh come on, nothing that is even remotely exciting ever happens in this place, except for the occasional bombs that fall from the sky; so … spill it out, Riddle. Tell me your darkest secrets.'

'I already told you this once. I have no use for friends,' he says disgusted at the notion. 'Girls or otherwise.'

'Don't tell me that cute face of yours with your raven black hair and dark, mysterious eyes doesn't attract any girls on that school of yours?' Sally says teasingly, and she dramatically takes a hold of her head with one hand, leans back ... 'Oh my, Mr Riddle, you take my breath away.' And she mock faints in his lap.

Dumbfounded, Tom stares down at her, when she peeks through one eye and starts to roar with laughter. She even tumbles down to the ground bathing in her mirth.

'You should look in the mirror now,' she snorts, 'priceless.'

'I should look in the mirror?' he responds and his pupils dart to her hair teasingly. 'Perhaps you can spend some time in front of one, so you can …'

'Eh,' Sally interrupts indignant, 'no making fun of my hair, Mister. It is fine as it is.'

'Whatever you say,' Tom mockingly says, looking back at the letter.

xxx

'Tom. Tom!'

Tom starts to walk a bit faster by lengthening his steps considerably. He is a lot taller than most of his classmates, so she will have a hard time catching up with him. Why does he always have to run into idiots like her when he is patrolling the corridors? Can't the blasted Mudblood take a hint? He only did his duty as a prefect by taking points from Hornby's House. It's not like he likes her. On the contrary, he would have been cheering Hornby on, if she wasn't such a huge dolt herself and bullied Myrtle in front of Merrythought's chambers. He had 'explained' to Olive later that he wasn't amused to have to take points from his own House.

'Tom!' Myrtle shouts more forceful.

He halts annoyed, but when he swirls around to greet Myrtle his handsome face is set in his usual blank expression.

'Myrtle,' he says suavely. 'I was pretending not to notice you, so I wouldn't be forced to take points from Ravenclaw. However, now that I have noticed…' and he halts there and tilts his head for the proper dramatic effect, only Four Eyes starts chatting immediately.

'I have received a pass from Professor Slughorn,' she says happily and she practically waves it in his face.

Great, he really needs to talk to Slughorn about this handing out of passes to basically everyone, because this must never happen again. He checks the corridor up and down quickly. Nobody is there, perfect. And in an instant his demeanour changes.

'I am not blind like you, Mudblood,' he hisses viciously, and her eyes widen fearfully when he presses his wand in her throat. 'If you ever follow me around or bother me again, you won't live long enough to regret it.'

A loud wail greets his ears and he laughs in her face when she reacts totally predictable. She starts crying as usual and runs off as he wanted her to. But when he sees Myrtle run into the girl's bathroom, he can't help but smirk. Yes, that is a good, safe place to go and moan, Myrtle. Soon … soon, he will rid this school of her and every other piece of Mudblood filth like her.

xxx

'Tom! You're back!' Sally shouts cheerful and jumps in his arms. 'Oh, not fair, you've gotten even taller.'

Tom gives her one of his famous charming smiles and stares into her brown eyes. Sally is the only one that makes returning to this orphanage even slightly bearable, but he will never admit that to anyone, not even to himself. He stares at the building in disgust.

"What happened to your eyes?'

'Sorry?'

'They were red for a moment.'

'Oh magic,' Tom explains shrugging.

Sally looks at him thoughtful, and then, looks back at the building. She punches him in the arm.

'What are you complaining about, Mr I-Am-Only-Here-During-The-Summer?' she asks teasingly and turns to walk up the flight of steps to the front door. 'Other people,' she says with much emphasis and a joyous twinkle in her eyes, 'have to be here the entire year and listen to Mrs Cole rant day in, day out. Sally, clean the floor. Sally, set the kitchen table. Sally, do the laundry. Sally, those dishes are not clean!'

'Sally!' yells Mrs Cole from within the orphanage.

Triumphant, Sally twirls around. 'I rest my case,' she says with a theatrical bow. 'Coming!'

Quietly, Tom watches her dart indoors and he points his wand at his heavy trunk. 'Locomotor trunk!'

The next couple of days in the orphanage he enjoys himself tremendously by performing magic twenty-four/seven, mainly in front of Sally, and other less harmless spells in front of others. And no Aurors, no letters from Hogwarts or the Ministry arrive. Not even after he performed the Cruciatus Curse! It worked. The charm, he performed, worked … and he is no longer bound by the Trace. He can go and Apparate to Little Hangleton tomorrow, when Mrs Cole's prying nose is absent. Though, he supposes there is nothing a nice 'Obliviate' can't fix.

'Scourcify,' he casts at the dishes and Sally watches him with envy.

'I am going to miss you when your school starts again,' she says, while he commands the now clean kitchen utensils into their respective cupboards and drawers with a flick of his wrist.

He snorts. 'You make a bloke feel really appreciated, Woodburn,' he replies evenly.

'Oh, you definitely are my best friend, if you can get rid of that enormous pile of laundry too,' Sally says, nudging him in the side teasingly.

He sighs exaggeratingly. 'See, like I said,' he exclaims, 'friends are just people who take advantage of you. Hence, my lacking need for them.'

…

Lord Voldemort wakes tired, feeling utterly distressed and bathing in sweat. His memories are still whirling through his mind and he feels all kinds of despicable and disgusting emotions with them. None of them he felt when he experienced those memories in reality. It unnerves him greatly. He doesn't know what to do with these feelings, and fear would have washed over him where it not for the two arms that are lying around his torso, along with the warm body that is snuggled against him. Her presence calms him down considerably. He is in his bed and Hermione is holding him. Somehow that makes him feel much more at ease and he begins to breathe normally again. Carefully, he lifts one of her arms and turns to face her. She is sleeping peacefully and he smiles and strokes her hair.

Still, he can't believe he passed out again. He can just hit himself in the head for it. He knows how to avoid the Amulet's powers and he submitted to those powers by letting himself get carried away by his feelings towards Hermione, once more. This must never happen again! He is Lord Voldemort! He can control his feelings and emotions. If he does not want to feel an emotion, then he does not feel it. He can control his hate and he has no room for remorse or regret. And he certainly has no need to fear his memories. He did everything right and if he had to do it all over again, he would do it exactly the same way.

He jumps out of bed. Pacing up and down his bedroom, he considers his situation. This is getting ridiculous. Sure, he needs to heal his soul to be able to make nice, wonderful, multiple Horcruxes, because he can't stand the thought of dying. But maybe his soul is already healed enough to make one, because if this Amulet keeps on messing with his mind then… NO! He will not be beaten by the trinket of an elf! He is Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard of all time. He needs the security of multiple Horcruxes, especially considering what happened the first time around. So he will resist these silly emotions and feeble attempts to make him feel. Once he is immortal again, he can crush the Amulet and the emotions with it into oblivion. He will crush the Elves into oblivion. The prospect delights him severely and he calms down. Because he knows that once he is immortal again, he will be invincible and...

That thought rings a bell somewhere, and suddenly, Hermione's response to it flares back to memory.

'You're already bored out of your mind in this mortal life you now lead. What will you do with all that extra time? When every question, every mystery is answered? When there are no more challenges left to face?'

He must admit that scares him considerably, but he remembers his response to the letter. The biggest challenge in life is to conquer death. That's what he told her and he meant it; he still does. But she had immediately crushed his rebuttal.

'And what after you've dealt with this silly challenge? After you've conquered the one thing that can alleviate your life when there isn't anything interesting in it anymore? Because without any challenges left one is better of dead.'

And he lied and told her that he would never be bored, but she hadn't bought his lies and had punctured right through them.

'Really? So these pathetic games you try to play with me are not a clear sign of boredom already?'

He has to admit he was bored out of his mind before she came along and he can't stand the thought of losing… Perplexed, he halts at the spot. No, no, no. He needs this to end now. He needs to remember who he is. He flips out his wand and points it at Hermione, no Granger. His eyes widen. When did he start referring to her by her first name in his mind? Aarrgghhh! He feels like pulling the non-existing hairs out of his head. He needs to get rid of this Amulet. How much longer until his bloody soul is whole again? He looks at the emerald stone that is still glowing lightly. It is a clear indication his soul is not whole again, because he knows that it won't stop glowing, until his soul is healed or until he crushes the damn jewel to pieces.

However, there is no timetable set by the stone and he has absolutely no idea how much longer it is going to take. Elves and their stupid timeless concepts. It's most inconvenient that there isn't a simple timer on it or any other indication that will give him insight into the amount of time left before it is finished. Because he needs to remember who he bloody well is. He looks at his wand that is still pointed towards Herm… Granger. He quickly corrects himself.

Hmmm… it may be too risky to torture her, if he loses himself again that Amulet will hit him once more. And he is struck by a brilliant idea. He isn't a genius for nothing. He will go to the Ministry and terrify some people there. Acting like himself, like Lord Voldemort, will help sustain him, the greatest sorcerer of all. He will be able to be himself undisturbed as long as Her… Granger isn't around.

Excited, he whirls into the bathroom to get ready. When he is done, he stands in front of the mirror. His eye colour is changing continuously. He has to do something about that before he goes. People get to utmost ridiculous ideas when they see things they do not understand. They may start to speculate he is ill or see it as a sign of weakness, and before you know it, they will try to rebel against him. He can't have that. He really isn't in the mood to waste his time by engaging in combat with idiots. A simple Glamour Charm makes his gaze turn thoroughly red and satisfied with it, he leaves Hogwarts to be Lord Voldemort. And he is going to do a terrific job of being just that.

'Master,' Lucius says, bowing down to him upon his arrival at the Ministry.

Irritated, Lord Voldemort looks at the lone figure on the ground. Why is that bleeding pureblood alone? Had he not clearly stipulated to Carrow that he wanted Lucius to bring him that Dora Figg woman? So where is she?

'Lucius, care to inform me on your, no doubt, tremendous progress?' he says quietly.

'We have pulled three bodies from the rubble at the Smith's Mansion.'

But Lucius halts there in fear, because he waves impatiently with his hand. He really isn't interested in hearing about the deaths of useless, expendable people. 'The Smiths?' he asks shortly.

'The Aurors have apprehended Achilles Smith and he is currently being questioned by them, my Lord,' Lucius says relieved, because he is able to bring his Lord some good news.

'Why was I not informed? And why is Smith still here at the Ministry? I ordered Alecto to have them all brought before me.'

'Er… Alecto has not relayed that aspect of your orders to me, Master.'

'And I suppose she also forgot to mention to you that I wanted Dora Figg to be delivered to me,' Voldemort hisses.

'No, but her flat was completely emptied out, so I ordered the Auror and Unspeakable Office to arrest the wo…' Lucius halts when he sees Voldemort hold up his hand.

'Anything you can tell me about this woman yet?'

'I've researched the background of the Dora Figg woman, and all the paperwork seems in order, but there is definitely something off with her, my Lord.'

'Really?' Voldemort says sarcastically.

An entire house was dumped upon him. Right after she left in haste. Surely, there is something off with the woman. Perhaps he shall take it out on Lucius. That won't bother Herm… Anger overtakes him. He is Lord Voldemort. He does not need her approval. But perhaps he shall Crucio Alecto instead. Yessss, for her tardiness and lack of immediate and thorough following up on his orders. He can do it while she is teaching. It's always enjoyable to have an audience witness his handiwork. Hmmm… such a delightful prospect and he smiles broadly.

Lucius looks up slightly alarmed, but still continues his explanation. 'I checked the Ministerial Archives and despite all the proper paperwork, we can't find any written evidence of this woman existence before May 1998.'

'May 1998?' Voldemort repeats slowly.

'Yes,' Lucius says, more confident now. 'So I went to check out the Figg family completely. According to the records Dora Figg is a daughter of Ignabel and Homerus Figg, but both of them died two years ago, so I can't question them. However, Homerus was a brother to Arabella Figg, the Squib that Dumbledore pulled on Potter's trial. So …'

'A little Order Member went astray,' Voldemort finishes furious. 'How come someone was able to escape the battle at Hogwarts unnoticed by us? I thought the corpses were checked and all were accounted for?'

Lucius remains silent and it annoys him sincerely, because he knows perfectly well that he left the Lestranges in charge of that task, so he can't really blame Malfoy, but since he is here and they aren't... 'Crucio!' he whispers.

He needs to relieve some of that tension he's been feeling, and it is kind of enjoyable to be able to curse someone without having to worry about having a sudden onset of despicable emotions running through you. After he feels much more relaxed, he lowers the curse from Malfoy. The man is panting and shaking on the floor. Delicious. Yes, cursing someone always lifts his spirits.

'Let's find out who this Order Member is, shall we Lucius?' he says calmly. 'Take me to Achilles Smith.'

Quickly, the blond takes him to the interrogation room the Aurors are holding Smith in at the moment. He takes a hold of the doorknob and bids Lucius goodbye. 'That'll be all, Lucius,' he orders calmly, 'go find that Figg woman for me.'

And he swirls indoors. The reaction upon his arrival is priceless. Achilles Smith, who was arrogantly balancing his chair on its two back legs, shrieks and tumbles over backwards. Two legs twist in the air, before the man gets up, pulls up his chair and sits back down again, staring at Voldemort in clear disbelief and with obvious fear on his now utterly white face. Lord Voldemort gazes down at the shocked man intensely. Apparently, none of the Aurors felt the need to inform Smith that his little assassination had failed. Good, he is mighty pleased with them about that. So he supposes he can overlook the fact that they didn't inform him about the man being taken into custody; maybe.

'Thank you, gentlemen,' Voldemort says to the two Aurors without removing his penetrating gaze from Mr Smith, 'but I'll take it from here.'

And he smiles viciously towards the red head in the chair, whose blue eyes turn into the size of saucers upon hearing him say those words. Lord Voldemort is going to enjoy this very much. He can feel it and it invigorates him. This is surely a beautiful day.

The door slams shut behind the Aurors and it turns incredibly silent in the room. The drop of a needle will be easy to locate right now and he enjoys this tense silence a lot, so he maintains it, staring at Achilles. After a while he starts to stroll around the room, and he pulls out his wand in a deliberate, very visible, and slow motion. The corner of his mouth tugs upward when Smith shifts in his seat nervously as he passes the man's back, and he decides to sit down on the corner of the table right next to Smith. He is twirling his wand between his fingers casually, when he notices the large wet spot in the trembling man's pants.

'Not entirely housebroken, Smith?' he says condescendingly with a huge smirk on his face.

The man's cheeks flush in embarrassment and it makes him gloat enormously. Oh the joy of humiliating others, he never gets tired of it. With a swift move he pushes his wand against Achilles temple. Smith closes his eyes and starts to tremble severely. 'Answer me, Smith,' he says taunting. 'Or do I need to help you find your tongue?'

'No, please,' Achilles says dead frightened.

'Please,' Voldemort repeats slowly, like he is trying the word out on his tongue. 'Hmm… I do not respond kindly to beggars who have nothing to offer me, Smith.'

And he trails his wand across the man's facial features slowly, weighing his many wonderful possibilities here.

'And you have absolutely nothing to hand me that will make your death come easy and quickly. Oh yes, you will die, Achilles Smith, eventually. But first, I am going to make you feel pain like you never knew was possible. I am going to torture you non-stop for days, until there isn't a single cell of your body still functioning in the manner it is suppose too. And then, I am going to heal you and make you watch as I torture your wife and child. A little girl of only eleven years of age… you have to admit the options I have there are delicious…'

'You bastard!' shouts Achilles and his hands reach out to strangle Voldemort, but he has already cast the Cruciatus Curse and the Hufflepuf smashes to the ground violently.

It is such a fine method of starting a torture session. After all, the Cruciatus Curse only hurts a lot. If applied properly, there are no lasting effects and he can continue torturing the man in more creative methods after it. Besides a nice Crucio always does wonders in lifting his spirits. The curse has a lovely feel to it when it leaves your wand. It sends a delightful, tingling sensation through your own nerves, while the recipient screams in agony. Yesss, definitely delightful, and he closes his eyes and bathes in it, before lifting the curse.

'Yes Smith, you're right. I am a true bastard, but you are the one who used his daughter in order to lure me over there,' he whispers, while prowling around Achilles. 'You kept her away from Hogwarts, knowing full well I would not let such a blatant opposition to my policies pass by unpunished. You used your own flesh and blood, your little girl, as bait to try and assassinate me. You are the one who dragged her into this. So what does that make you?' he asks smiling and he tilts his head at the distressed man on the floor.

'Touch her in such a manner and I will kill you,' Achilles hisses.

Lord Voldemort snorts condescendingly. 'You already tried that, Smith, and failed. Now, you and your family will face the consequences of your failure. And I daresay you are greatly misinformed if you think I will get off on a child. But I suppose I can always find someone who will,' he adds viciously.

Smith scowls and his leg swirls out to kick Voldemort, but he steps aside calmly and laughs out loud, while sending out another short burst of the Cruciatus Curse through the man.

'Pathetic, Smith, just like your brainless assassination scheme. Tell me, did you really think I would let you get away with an attempt on my life? Did you think I would simply forgive and forget? Were you so foolish to think you would succeed?' and another cold laugh leaves his lips.

'Crucio.'

And so he taunts and tortures Achilles Smith for an hour, keeping a firm eye on the man's mental stability. The man is clawing at the ground for some form of support, some way to relief his agony and he has not only wet his pants again, but his control over everything else has dropped also. It is when Voldemort waves his hand over the man's head and forces him to look him in the eye.

'Leglimency,' he whispers calmly.

Images flash by for his eyes and he finds and takes what he needs promptly. When he drops the spell, he smiles triumphantly at the shaking, panting and perspiring man, who has soiled himself thoroughly.

'Thanks for telling me where to find them, Achilles. You have been most accommodating,' he sneers and he swirls out of the room, while Smith's desperate scream vibrates through the walls.

'Rotterdam, Crooswijk,' he barks at the nearest Auror and he flings his wand around to make a map appear that points out the exact location of the Smith family. 'Bring me his wife and daughter intact. Anyone else who gets in the way you may dispose of.'

A team of Aurors leaves quickly and he gets a nice cup of coffee to take with him into the interrogation room in the mean time. Smith is still lying on the floor shivering as he enters and he pulls up a chair and sniffs. Hmmm… that disgusting stench is definitely interfering with his precious cappuccino break. So he swirls his wand around to prevent Smith's rotten odour from reaching his slit for nostrils. Now, he can absorb and appreciate the fine smell of this delicious beverage thoroughly. Nothing beats a nice cappuccino in between torture sessions. Well, perhaps a nice shag will…

He tilts his head in contemplation and looks at the man on the ground. He supposes he can always clean him up first, because he is definitely not sticking his cock into that septic tank over there. Too bad Mrs Smith looks even more like a hag than all the Bulstrodes placed together, because doing her would, no doubt, inflict more damage upon Achilles' state of mind than sodomising him. However, he does have his standards and this couple is not even nearing the baseline of it. He will just have to wait until his agreeable time here is over and done with, so he can go back to Hogwarts and pin Hermione down on the nearest piece of furniture available. Her voluptuous figure whirls before his eyes and he can barely refrain himself from going over there straight away, but he is here for a reason. He is proving to himself he still is who he has been. And it pleases him sincerely that he is right. It's just around the girl that he is experiencing problems. But Lord Voldemort will overcome that too, as he always does. He never loses. Never.

He places his empty cup on the table and leans back in the chair, resting his arms behind his head casually, when the door opens.

'Daddy!' a little girl shouts.

Eliza Smith whirls out from underneath the grasp of the Auror escorting her and she runs to her father. The Auror flips out his wand to retrieve the girl, but halts and pockets his wand again upon seeing that Voldemort shakes his head calmly. He glances amusedly at the touching reunion, before turning his attention towards the next person that is brought into the room, bound and gagged, but still struggling forcibly. He raises his eyebrows at the Auror.

'She has been difficult,' the man says apologetic. 'Ouch!' the Auror yells, when Mrs Smith strikes his shin forcefully.

Lord Voldemort roars with laughter and the Smith woman glares at him furiously, which he finds incredibly entertaining.

'Have a seat, darling,' he says snorting, and with a simple wave of his wand, Mrs Smith is tossed into a chair. 'We're going to be here for a very long time.'

It isn't until late in the evening that he arrives back at Hogwarts, still flushed with excitement about today. The screams, the pleas, the fear, the terror and horror … he breathed it all in and rejoiced in his vengeance. He took extreme pleasure in slowly killing the little girl, watching the despair of her parents grow beyond measure when Eliza's screams stilled and her eyes became vacant. Opening the door to his study, he can't help but thinking that it truly was a lovely day. His eyes fall upon Hermione, sitting in the couch reading. Scratch that… it still is a lovely day, and it is about to get even lovelier.

Hermione seems completely enraptured by the book she is reading. He ordered some House-elf, named Dinky, Trinky, Stinky, or whatever, to get her any book from the library she desired that he would not have a problem with. It has taken that burden of his shoulders quite admirably. He takes in the woman on the couch thoroughly. She really is magnificent in the way she sits there. His witch is sitting where she belongs: on his couch, reading his book, in his chambers. He sees how Hermione's hair on the left side is tucked behind her ear and on the right side it curls around her face. She bites her lip in concentration as he noticed her do before while reading. Another leave gets turned around, and the pupils of her sparkling brown eyes begin moving from left to right again, taking in the words that are written down on the page quickly.

'Mine,' he thinks obsessively and as he moves to sit down beside her, she looks up at him.

'Hello dear,' he says suavely. 'Enjoying your book?'

And he tilts his head to see what she is reading, but the book is still opened up and there is no title printed at the top of the page. And come to think of it, he actually isn't interested in literature at the moment.

'It's quite interesting,' Hermione responds blankly.

'I'm sure I can provide you with something a lot more entertaining,' he says deviously.

His left hand teases her side as he leans forward to kiss her extensively. Hermione tilts her head slightly and their tongues clash. Delicious, that is what she is. Her arms have travelled around his neck, while his are moving over her breasts to her hips. A burst of magic makes her moan and he begins to mould her entire body to adjust it to his needs. Merlin, he is overjoyed with this compatible magic business. He revels in it and it excites him, making him…

The sound of a page being flipped reaches his eardrums and he pulls away from Hermione's mouth immediately. His eyes dart to his right where a book hovers in midair and he turns his attention back to the now apologetic looking witch.

'It's a really interesting book,' she whispers, while her cheeks flush somewhat embarrassed.

'More interesting than me?' he asks slowly, staring into her brown eyes. They almost seem darker now, but it must be because the lighting in this room is not too bright. He waves his hand at the book, thrusting it out of the way.

'So…,' he says threatening, hovering his lips within an inch of hers. 'Now that I have your full attention, Hermione, I think I may need to punish you for this insulting behaviour of yours.'

Her pupils dilate and she shrieks when he, roughly, binds her wrists together and tosses her over his shoulder. 'Yes, you definitely need to be punished,' he smoothly adds, patting her on her behind anticipatory, as he walks away to a room where he has more access to the right attributes to show this insolent woman that Lord Voldemort always must receive the proper attention he is entitled to.

They reach the bedroom quietly and he stands there smiling broadly. He is going to enjoy this extremely. With a snap of his fingers, her clothes are gone and he lowers her naked figure before him. Lustful, he glares into her aroused eyes, while his hands take a hold of her bound wrists and he raises them into the air. He allows the ropes to twist in such a manner that he can place her hands behind her head and then he tightens the ropes again. 'You will do what I tell you, when I tell you to do it. Non-compliance will be punished immediately. Is that clear?'

She nods cautiously.

'Good,' he purrs and he traces the edge of her face with a finger. 'Stand here.'

Fully clothed, he takes several steps back and starts admiring her naked body. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment and her eyes dart to a vacant spot on the wall. Now that won't do. 'Look at me,' he orders. 'And watch how I measure your body's worthiness to me.'

He sees her flinch in discomfort and it exhilarates him. Yes, there is no amount of impudence a little humiliation can't fix. But she is magnificent, he has to admit that. 'Turn around; I want you to show yourself to me,' he says evenly.

Lord Voldemort keeps his face blank, determined not to make her at ease by acknowledging his arousal at seeing her like this and he is very thankful for his wide robes at the moment. Hermione starts to turn around. 'Slowly,' he adds warningly.

And it delights him how she complies. When she faces him again, he nods approvingly. 'Turn around, face the bed,' he orders harshly.

He sees her brief anxiety, before she complies and waits there with her back towards him. She jerks when he touches her hair with one hand and moves beside her in a tardy manner. His right hand trails down her spine all the way to her bottom, while his left arm wraps around her waist. 'Place your arms above your head,' he orders.

He can feel her trembling as she does his bidding and it excites him. 'So you think you can insult me by ignoring my presence?' he asks amused.

She shakes her head, but only just; and in a fluent motion he bends her double and smacks her on her behind. She jerks in surprise. 'I didn't quite catch that,' he responds cruelly.

'No.. no,' she whispers and he can hear the badly hidden excitement in her voice.

'Gryffindors,' he thinks smirking, and he smacks her another time. 'So what was that display in the study about then?' he demands her to tell him.

'A mistake,' Hermione squeaks.

Smack! 'A mistake?' he asks threatening. 'You think I tolerate mistake like these? Do you think I care to hear such a feeble answer?' Smack!

'No, no, I am sorry,' she says quickly.

Smack! 'I have no tolerance for measly excuses either,' he snarls quietly. Smack! 'You will never disrespect me like that ever again. Is that clear Granger?'

'Yes, yes, crystal,' she responds and he sees her arousal. 'I promise it will never happen again.'

'Hmmm…' he says contemplating and he wets his finger before slowly inserting it into her arse. Her muscles tighten around him and she feels very delectable. It will be his pleasure to ride her in at that place.

'You will reimburse this act of foolishness to me right now,' he whispers, while inserting another finger and moving them around teasingly. A moan escapes the girl's lips and his demeanour changes immediately. 'On the bed, face down,' he adds harshly.

And he pushes her to add some speed to the enactment. A snap of his fingers and his clothes are gone to. Kicking her legs to the side and grabbing a hold of her hips firmly, he places his hardened and erected cock against the opening of her arse.

'Relax your muscles, doll,' he says softly, while he slowly enters her arse.

Not that he will mind ripping her apart at the scene, but he has only just started and he has so much more planned for this evening. He gives her time to adjust to his cock entering her in a place it has not been before and uses magic to help her there. When he has fully entered her, he savours the moment of how she feels around him before flipping out his wand. A smirk graces his features as he starts to ride her from behind, making her feel who is in charge her. She whimpers briefly in discomfort and he enjoys it. He breathes in the way her naked body lies on her stomach before him, helpless and defenceless. Her arms are lying above her head, still tied by the ropes he magically threw around them, and he keeps the rest of her body in place with magic, not allowing her to move more than a few inches.

However, her little whimpers soon turn into moans of pleasure and it astonishes him how fast the good little Gryffindor catches on. He begins to pound into her anus a bit more forcefully and decides a reward is in order. So he sticks his wand in her pussy, making her gasp in anticipation, before he flicks it around circle wise, casting a thoroughly wicked Dark Arts Sex Spell. A loud scream of pleasure is the response he gets to his magical stimulation of her vulnerable areas and he pounds into her harder. He feels the tremor of her muscles and she screams wonderfully.

'Yes! Oh God, don't stop!'

He laughs at her cries and grabs a hold of her curls to pull her head back towards him roughly. 'Giving me orders now, witch?' he snarls into her ear.

Panting, she is shaking her head in denial in the little movement his grasp is allowing her. Her soft cheek brushes his lips and he licks her skin. 'I am in charge here, Hermione,' he says threatening, while nibbling on her ear.

'Yes,' she replies, laced with desire.

'It will be wise to consider what I can do to you right now,' and he flicks his wand to cast another spell inside her pussy. She gasps in both pain and desire. 'Do you like this, witch?' he snarls, tugging on her hair roughly. 'Do you like me to punish you? Do you like to know what I can do to you?'

'Yes, oh yes,' she groans.

With a swift motion he removes his wand from her pussy and she whimpers in disappointment. Delight spreads through him as he flicks his wand to the cupboard. 'Accio!'

'I warned you not to tempt me, witch. Now, I will punish you.'

He whips his wand at the large magical toy and it enters her roughly. With a devious smirk, he adds his magic to the toy, knowing it will drive her up the wall, and it starts moving on its own. 'Come for me, Hermione,' he orders into her ear.

'Oooohhhh!' she moans.

And he starts moving his cock inside her arse again, while placing his wand arm around her waist, holding her delicious body against him. While he is pounding into her relentlessly, he does not release the hold he has on her hair, but instead is giving it a firm tug with every trust he administers to her. He is gritting his teeth, preventing his own release to spill inside of her before she comes. He wants her to yield to him first. He wants to feel her muscles shake and tense beneath him. She will know her place.

'Do as your told, doll!' he snarls into her ear; tugging on her hair, so her head turns backwards and sideways, allowing him to capture her mouth.

She is trying to enter his mouth with her tongue, but he will not allow that. He is control of her, so he pulls away and glares into her darkening brown eyes. 'Don't,' he says menacingly. 'You will submit to my lead, doll. Do you understand me?'

'Yes,' she says in a moaning manner that almost makes him come instantaneously; the trickery, little witch.

And he forces his tongue in her mouth, exploring it fully and harshly. Showing this insolent woman who she belongs to and taking great pleasure in subduing her. A flash of his wand towards the toy in her pussy and he adds a magical stimulation of her clit to it. He presses his mouth into hers; not allowing her the option of a scream, and the muffled sounds that reach his ears makes him feel overjoyed. He feels her body starting to shake violently and he releases her mouth and picks up the pace. Lowering his arm to round around her hips, he pulls her against him with every trust.

'Scream for me when you come, doll,' he orders, tugging her hair once more so her back is arched against his chest.

And she does. People, living all the way in London, would have been able to hear that scream if he hadn't administered a Silencing Charm around his quarters. And he comes to completion too, pulling her tightly to him when he spills his semen inside of her arse. 'Good girl,' he purrs, panting heavily, before pulling out of her and shoving her to the ground on her knees by her hair.

'Now, I will grant you some use of magic here,' he says quietly, while sitting down into the chair he summoned behind him. 'So you can satisfy me again, witch.'

And he gives her head a small tug towards his softening member to clarify his intentions for her. She is after all not that experienced. 'If I feel any teeth, I will be very disappointed,' he whispers warningly, 'and you do not want to disappoint me, Hermione. I am not a kind man.'

She looks up towards him questioningly, while she holds out her bound hands for him to untie. He smirks. 'You'll manage,' he says, denying her that freedom. 'If you know what is good for you.'

He thoroughly enjoys the worried glance she casts him, but not nearly as much as the touch of her hands on his cock and the feel of her mouth at the tip of it. He instantaneously begins to harden again when she strokes his lengthening shaft with her hands and circles her tongue around the tip of his cock. 'Yes, that's it, Hermione, use our magic,' he says moaning when he feels it enter his body at the touch of her delicate hands.

Relaxing, he sinks back in the chair, but he does not release his hold on her hair. He enjoys the feel of her curls around his fingers and he massages her scalp while she pleasures him. He can tell by her hesitant actions that she is uncertain if she is doing it right, so he reassures her, but only a bit. No need for her to get comfortable. His fingers clutch on to her hair abruptly when she takes a hold of his balls to and invigorates them with their magic. Maybe that enterprising attitude of hers isn't such a big drag after all.

'Oh yessss,' he hisses, while the delicious sensation travels through his body.

And she starts sucking his penis more confidently due to his verbal and nonverbal responses. It's when she halts and returns back to only lick the fluids of his tip. She is teasing him by not giving him what he wants immediately. Oh this woman is going to drive him insane. And he groans in disappointment and arousal. 'Tease,' he accuses.

She hits him with their magic, but he still catches the little smirk at his accusation and he decides to punish her for that insolence. So while he arches in response to the overwhelming wonderful sensation of their magic travelling through every nerve of his body, he clutches on to her hair and pushes her head towards him. He is making her take his member into her mouth fully. To his delight, she gags and he holds her there firmly. He loves the feel of his cock inside that delicious mouth of hers and he wants to stay there forever.

'You are not in control, witch,' he hisses. 'Now, I will punish you for your insolent smirk.'

He starts trusting back and forth in her mouth, while keeping a vicelike grip of her hair to make sure she stays in place. 'Work with me,' he adds warningly.

And she starts sucking his cock deliciously, gagging every time he hits the back of her throat. Yes, this is truly heaven. He can feel he is about to come and so he warns her.

'I want you to drown in me, Hermione,' he purrs, while continuing to trust inside of her. 'I want every part of your body to be touched by my semen, my DNA, my essence. I will taint you everywhere, until you are all mine. And you are not to waste a single drop of it, or you will regret it sincerely. Remember what I said before, dearest, I am not a kind man.'

It's when those words leave his lips, that he spasms inside of her and spills it all in the back of her throat. And even though she gags, she still manages to lick and suck it all in and he relishes at the sight of seeing her swallow his essence. He loosens his grip on her hair and allows her to retreat slowly. When she is completely detached from him, he tugs her into his lap with a smooth wave of his wand. Her legs are placed on each side of his naked body.

'Put your arms around my neck,' he orders, staring directly into her beautiful dark brown eyes.

She complies immediately and he can't stop gazing at her. Her eyes are definitely darker than before, he is certain of that now. He should have known she could take this admirably, but he still marvels at her lustful eyes, despite the pounding he just administered. Most women, he did that to, were either furious, scared, crying or all of the above. Not aroused like her. She is truly made for him.

'I want to taste myself inside of you,' he whispers.

He leans toward her, while she tilts her head, opens her mouth and closes her eyes in anticipation. It makes him want to eat every part of her and his mouth crashes on hers violently and his tongue devours her, while his hands roam across her scalp. She feels so good, so delightful and he has never felt happier in his life. Suddenly, he feels like sharing it with her. She pleased him; she still pleases him. Wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, he lifts her up and walks to the bed, while they continue their passionate kissing performance. For a moment he waits at the edge of the bed, thoroughly enjoying his taste in her mouth.

She shrieks in surprise when he roughly throws her backward onto the bed. A flick of his wrist and her hands fly to the headboard to be chained down to it. A devious smirk crosses his features as he crawls on top of her, because making her nervous, about what he is going to do to her, is so exquisitely entertaining to him. He pins her down into the mattress with his body and holds his face right in front of hers.

'You've pleased me, Hermione,' he whispers on her lips, withdrawing just enough to keep their distance when she attempts to kiss him.

Clicking his tongue disapprovingly at that action, he continues to talk. 'I have the initiative here, my dearest, as you should be well aware of. So I recommend you lie back and enjoy, because I am not often this generous.'

Slowly, he starts trailing kisses down her neck and he feels her shiver beneath him when he reaches her breasts. He takes his time in licking, kissing and sucking on each nipple in turn and he smiles at the luscious, little sounds she is beginning to make at his handiwork. Impeccably and calmly, he takes his time to explore the skin of her belly with his tongue and he teases her by sticking it into her bellybutton and then… he sucks on it diligently. He hears her gasp and smiles into her skin, before lowering himself between her legs. A crude coarse word reaches his ears when his mouth comes in contact with the delicate flesh down there and he enjoys how wet she already is.

For a second, he looks up to revel in her flustered and aroused state. 'Scream, plead, beg … do whatever you want, Hermione, but I won't stop, until I am good and well done with you,' he hisses smiling. 'Let's see how well you taste.'

And he trails his finger through her folds, making her buck towards him in reflex, before he brings his dripping finger to his mouth. 'Exquisite,' he mutters, as he slowly sucks it off in a clear demonstration of what he is going to do to her next. 'I am going to make you scream for mercy, darling.'

And he dives in there, making good on his promise by tasting her fully and removing every last drop of her fluids with his mouth. She is shaking and bucking beneath him, but it's nothing a bit of magic can't fix and he holds her hips forcefully in place, while he moves on to her clit. Meticulously, he uses his tongue to stimulate the sensible spot and he laughs out loud when she yells and trashes with her upper body. Yes, Lord Voldemort knows how to touch a woman and he is nowhere near satisfied with her responses, yet. He keeps her on the crest of this wave for a very long time. Flicking his tongue in her vagina to demonstrate what she is missing there.

'Oh, please, please … I can't take this anymore,' Hermione mumbles exhausted.

It's when he decides to take pity on her and starts to crawl on top of her slowly, tracking his path with his tongue and once more stimulating her nipples when he arrives at her breasts. She moans and groans and bucks toward him after he releases his hold on her lower body. But he is not entering her yet.

'Aren't you going to thank me?' he whispers on to her lips deviously and he pinches her clit merciless with his hand.

'Ohhh... Yes, thank you,' Hermione replies, gazing back into his eyes, and bucking once more against his hips.

He gazes back at her; contemplating whether her response satisfies him enough. And he feels his own arousal at their contact. Tentatively, he shakes his head. 'Not good enough,' he responds cruel and he sees her pupils dilate in horror just before he dives back down between her legs teasingly.

'Fuck!' Hermione screams.

'Not until you've learnt some manners,' he informs her, while targeting her clit intensively and sticking his tongue inside of her to remove the fluid build-up.

She trashes beneath him and he enjoys the despair that rings through her shouts of lust and desire. 'Oh please, please stop! Oh, yes right there … No… Ohhhh…I can't take this anymore… Please, thank you, thank you, thank you!' she shouts repeatedly.

But it is not what he is waiting for, so he continuous assiduously.

'My Lord!' she finally adds yelling.

Within seconds he is on top of her, grabs her head and kisses her exhaustively on the mouth. A forceful trust and he is inside of her fully. Pressing his hips into hers, he holds her steady and lifts his head slightly to look into her adorable, desirable eyes.

'Yessss,' he hisses, 'I am your Lord now.'

And they start rocking back and forth violently. 'But it does feel so fitting to hear it coming from those impudent lips of yours,' he says vicious.

He feels so delighted that he places extra force into his trusts upon speaking those words, like he wants to exit her body on the other side. So she will know who is the master here. He notes she is shaking beneath him from her orgasm and her walls are clenching around his length like a fist, drawing him in further. 'Fuck, Granger!' he shouts as he comes instantaneously.

Finally, he plummets beside her in the bed, feeling utterly satisfied. To his surprise, Hermione turns toward him and snuggles her body against his side. He stiffens for a moment when her arms wrap around him, one of her legs lands between his and her head comes to rest on his chest. He has never before allowed someone to hold him this intimate afterwards and he is about to push her away when he realises he kinds of enjoys the feeling of her lying there. He kisses her on her hair and wraps his arms around her waist, holding her tightly until she sleeps.

A couple of days later he is enjoying himself in his study with the images of Achilles when he finished off his wife. Delightful, utterly delightful. HA! He knew he would beat this Amulet the minute it started showing him memories of Sally. The stone definitely lost its touch if it thinks he will be remorseful over her. He has never done anything to Woodburn to be remorseful about. Perhaps it thinks that showing him a muggle, whom he remotely got along with, will help him see the error of his ways. Well, he tolerated Woodburn, because she amused him, but that is all. A snort escapes his lips and he sees Herm… Granger looking up from her book curiously, but she shrugs and turns her attention back to her reading. Yes, Granger, keep reading. Just how much longer do you need to find the answer? He really thought she was supposed to be clever.

Sally Woodburn, he'd forgotten about her. She really was funny with her totally blunt remarks to … well, everyone. He had seen Mrs Cole pace away from the girl with her hands in her hair and he had thoroughly enjoyed the sight of that. He snickers. He turns his head towards Hermione, but her head snaps back into the book immediately. Hmmm… there sits another blunt person. How would Sally be doing now? Probably not good, after all she is a muggle and of his age, so she most likely is dead now. Muggles don't share the same lifespan wizards do. It is a sure testament to their inferiority.

He taps with his fingers on the desk and he glances back into the direction of Hermione who appears to be reading. Yet he notices her pupils are focussing on one particular spot in the book. So he isn't the only one contemplating things. Come on, Granger, get a move on. He needs to know the answer to this inconvenient eye issue of his. It doesn't amuse him at all that he has to keep on applying those insane Glamour Charms every time he goes out.

Though the memory, that the Amulet showed him, gives him a small hint as to what is causing the changes. Sally was one of the first people who commented on his eye colour change. And he now remembers when it started happening for the first time, but he needs to be sure. He needs Hermione to verify his assumptions. He really doesn't have the time to do research. He still has Achilles Smith to torture and Alecto Carrow still needs to get what is coming to her. A brief shiver of delight flies through his body.

Sally Woodburn … he had seen her only one more time after they both left the orphanage. And he smiles upon the memory of that interesting evening.

…

'Then we have nothing more to say to each other,' he said, with barely contained rage, even though he had gotten the response from the man, he had been expecting in advance.

'No nothing,' responded Dumbledore sadly. 'The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom … I wish I could …'

A flare of fury flew through him when the old coot reminded him of his foolish behaviour back then and his hand itched to draw his wand and curse the one person that always had been in his way. But he came here for a reason and he couldn't afford to lose sight of that reason by starting a duel with Dumbledore. So he swirled out the door and slammed it shut behind him. Feeble old man, someday, he would pay for every time he thwarted Lord Voldemort.

Quickly, he walked down the corridors on the seventh floor. His long black cloak was bellowing behind him from the speed of his pace and the excitement he was feeling would have been obvious to anyone despite the permanent bloody look his eyes had gotten. They almost seem to glow in anticipation on his snow-white face. He passed the hidden door three times, while thinking: 'I need a place to hide my Horcrux.'

It wasn't until he was walking back towards his Death Eaters, feeling thoroughly exhilarated that he fooled Dumbledore once more, that he thought of Sally Woodburn for the first time in the last ten years. He had walked this path a million times having to go back to that wretched place in the summer and that made him think of her. Would she be alright? The last thing, he heard about her, was that she had got married to a doctor Farnon, and he knew where the Farnons lived. So the moment he arrived in Hogsmeade, he Apparated away to the Farnon residence. No harm in checking up on her. The humongous house on the end of the lane made him smirk, because he remembered Mrs Cole's outburst.

'You'll end up on the street selling your body and begging for money with that attitude, young lady.'

It pleased him sincerely that Sally proved the bitch wrong and was now living under far better circumstances than that always intoxicated woman ever would. But he still needed to take a good look at this Farnon bloke. Money, after all, was not a guarantee that he was at all a decent fellow. He had walked upon the garden lane of a huge mansion before at age sixteen and his fists clenched at the memory. No, he had to make sure this rich muggle knew that he would piss him off sincerely, if he didn't treat Woodburn right.

The bell chimed through the house and he waited. Technically, it was a bit late to be knocking on people's front door, but that did not concern him. The house was brightly lit after all, so they were still up. The door opened and in it stood Sally.

'Tom!' she said and she jumped outside into his arms. 'You evil man, not letting me know that you were alright or anything… And missing my wedding!'

'Ouch!' he said when her fist collided with his biceps.

'I had to work,' he said, remembering how Hepzibah fell to the ground lifeless that day.

'So you couldn't let me know? And … wow, what happened to your face?'

'Magic,' he muttered.

'Oh well, that is always your answer to everything, isn't it?' she said, crossing her arms and looking him up and down.

He, suddenly, wished he hadn't come here and was about to say goodbye, when she grabbed his arm and dragged him inside.

'We better go inside, you don't look healthy and that snow is cold,' she said bossy, brushing the snow of his cloak.

'Stop mothering me, Woodburn,' he hissed. 'I am not sick. On the contrary, I've improved my health considerably.'

'Hmmm… let's see what Siegfried says about that,' Sally rebutted.

'Do I look like a four legged creature to you?' he said outraged. He surely didn't need to be examined by some veterinarian that didn't have the intelligence to study to become a real doctor.

'Mummy, I can't sleep,' said a tiny girl, holding on to the leg of a teddy bear, while standing on top of the stairs.

Sally turned. 'Then, why don't I get you a nice cup of cocoa? Do you think that will help?'

The girl nodded vigorously and sped of the stairs. 'Who are you?' she asked curiously.

'This is Tom. He is a … friend,' Sally said, eyeing him teasingly, because she knew perfectly well how he felt about that word and the despicable relationship it implied.

'Hi,' the girl said.

'Hi,' he grunted back. Great, midgets, just what he needed. Why had he come here again?

'Siegfried!' Sally shouted and she patted the girl on the back. 'Go ahead dear, I'll be right there.'

Sally turned and faced him again with an amused smile on her face.

'What?' he asked annoyed. God, he had forgotten how irritating she could be.

'I see you still haven't got over your dislike for children,' she responded snorting. 'I guess I don't have to ask whether you got any of your own.'

The answer must have been written all over his face, because she started laughing and rubbed his arm caringly.

'What is it, Sal?' a man with kind hazel eyes asked, eyeing the stranger in his hall with curiosity.

'This is Tom Riddle, hon. Tom, this is my husband, Siegfried Farnon.'

'Nice to finally meet you,' Siegfried said, holding out his hand. 'I've heard so much about you.'

'Now, hon… no need to give him the impression that I do nothing but gossip,' Sally interrupted.

'Oh, I am sure Tom here already knows you,' Siegfried responded teasingly.

Sally rolled her eyes.

'MUM!' was the impatient shout coming from the kitchen.

'Coming!' Sally replied. 'She can't sleep, so I promised her some cocoa. Can you show Tom to the living room? I'll be right there,' she added, eyeing Tom briefly.

'Don't hurry,' Siegfried responded to her and he sent Tom a conspiring glance. 'So tell me, what was she really like back then?'

'EH!' Sally shouted in mock resentment. 'No talking behind my back!'

Tom smirked and Siegfried chuckled.

'No where is the fun in complying with that demand?' Siegfried asked mischievous, while walking back to the living room and showing Tom the way.

'No fun at all,' Tom conspired back calmly. He had a feeling this man was alright for Sally.

It became very late that night, before he left. Sally and Siegfried had offered him the guestroom, but he declined. He needed to go and become the greatest, most powerful sorcerer of all time. And he needed to let go of his past to do that. They said goodbye amicably, but as he was strolling down the lane, he glanced back over his shoulder and saw Sally stare at him with concern written all over her face.

...

Suddenly, he feels like he is being watched and it jogs him out of his reminiscence. From the corner of his eye, he peeks stealthy into the direction of Hermione Granger. Now, what is the matter with her? She is definitely squinting her eyes at him. It is almost like she is trying to see something. And he had seen her looking at him previously, though she tried to hide it. He turns his head and captures her gaze, but she turns all red and hides behind the book immediately. Now, he is intrigued. Swiftly, he moves out of his chair and paces towards her. Her eyes widen and she seems to desperately want to get rid of the book.

'Accio!' he casts quickly, before she has a chance to vanquish it.

He notices that she buries her face in her hands as he turns the book around to look at what is so bloody important that she would try to get rid of it, before he has a chance to see it. He glares at the page she was interested in and then glares back at the girl.

'What do you think you are doing with this?' he utters threatening.
- 20
- 21
- 22
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory