Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Shared Flame	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 58981 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make any money writing this.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
Hello people! New chapter again, I hope you’ll enjoy it. I want to thank Nerys for betaing, and everyone else for reading and reviewing. As always, you can find the review replies here:

http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/20494-shared-flame-by-lady-miya/

WARNING: Smut. Don’t like? Don’t read!

Chapter 20
Hermione was released the morning after. Although she was still weak, her wounds were healing quickly and there was no reason for her to be under immediate medical attention. Apparently wizards didn’t think a mental trauma was as important to heal as physical wounds. Not that Hermione minded. She wanted to come home to her daughter and start to investigate who, or what, had been encouraging her to have an abortion.
Her parents were there to take her home, and she spent most of the day with them. They were all sitting together around the coffee table, having evening tea. Althea was lying on the couch with her head on Hermione’s lap. The young girl hadn’t wanted to leave her mother to go to bed but had been too tired to stay awake. Hermione was glad; she felt much more comfortable with her daughter next to her.
Malcolm and Helen were sitting in the armchairs, and for the past five minutes, none of them had said anything. Since Hermione had a feeling of what was to come, she didn’t say anything either.
“So … does he sleep with all your classmates or just you?” Helen asked, finally looking up from her cooling tea.
“Mum!” Hermione exclaimed in a low voice. Her mother still hadn’t learned to beat around the bush in the past six months. “Of course he doesn’t sleep with any other students.”
“We are just worried about you, Hermione,” her more diplomatic father said. “You didn’t have a boyfriend or even a date during your time in Australia. Then you come back here and just happen to become an item with Althea’s father. Are you sure there is no magic involved? Love potions or a spell?”
Hermione massaged her temples. She didn’t have the energy for this, but at the same time, she knew this conversation was doomed to happen. Better to get it over with. “If I was under a love potion, I wouldn’t be able to see his flaws, and trust me, I do.”
“But he is your teacher. What will you do if they expel you from Oxford?” her mother asked, sounding rather worried.
“I highly doubt I’ll get expelled,” Hermione commented. Voldemort had promised she got to stay if she did what he wanted. She had the feeling that if she refused him, not staying in school would be the least of her problems. “The worst thing that will happen is that they can take away my scholarship, but Marcus has already said he will support me if it comes to that.”
Malcolm frowned. “Are you sure you want to be dependent on him, Hermione?”
The honest answer was no, but she would not tell her parents that. It wasn’t only to protect them from Voldemort, but also to give them some peace of mind. Since she couldn’t tell the whole truth, it would be easier for everyone if she pretended that everything was alright.
“He is Althea’s father and he wants to do right by us. Besides, if it won’t work out between us, I can always find a job. But I do want it to work out between us because if it doesn’t, he will most likely want to have Althea just as much as I do, and then, we’ll have to take it to court and … well, it’s easier this way. If I do stay with him, I’ll be able to finish my studies and become a Transfiguration Professor as well. Since the salary is good, I’ll be able to pay him back quickly.”
It was mostly true. However, she highly doubted Voldemort would care about getting money back. If she lived with him, he would have power over her, and she knew that was what he really wanted.
“Do you think you’ll marry him?” Helen asked, sipping the last of her tea from the cup.
Hermione blinked. A part of her wanted to laugh hysterically. She had always associated marriage with being in love. She wasn’t in love with Voldemort. She just … didn’t really think she would ever be without him. He had promised as much back at the hospital.
“We haven’t discussed it,” she admitted. “Usually, wizards are engaged for at least a year before getting married. The hand-fasting ritual is not something to undertake on a whim. Not that any ritual-holder would agree to marry a couple just like that.”
“What do you even know about him, Hermione?” her father asked, looking concerned.
Besides the fact that he was a mass-murdering megalomaniac who was hiding from justice by pretending to be someone else? “Enough.”
Her parents seemed to doubt her. Hermione sighed and looked down on Althea. What could she tell her parents that would make them think she wanted to stay with “Marcus”? She wasn’t even sure she wanted to stay with him. But she would. Because Voldemort wouldn’t let her go.
Why was there a small part of her that was relieved that Voldemort would stay with her? Just a week ago, she had tried to kill him. But then, everything had changed. She had murdered someone.
Harry and the other Aurors had seemed convinced that she only did it to save her own life, but that wasn’t perfectly true. She could just as easily have sent away a message to the Aurors once Malfoy was unconscious and she had got his wand. Instead, she had murdered Malfoy. And she didn’t regret it.
That was the part no one would understand. Even though most of the people she knew had killed someone, they had all regretted it afterwards, to some extent. She had sat many nights, listening to her friends’ remorse. How they could have acted differently: captured instead of killed.
At least they could blame it all on the battle, and that they had been fighting for their own lives. Hermione had actually had the choice of capturing without endangering her own life. Yet, she had killed him. And she was glad of it.
No one would understand. Except Voldemort, that was. Even though they hadn’t talked about it yet, Hermione was certain Voldemort wouldn’t think less of her because she had murdered Malfoy in cold blood. He would understand. She had seen it in his eyes the night before.
“I know that you don’t agree with any of this, but I’m not some lovesick girl,” Hermione finally said. “Marcus is the only man who has ever made me feel special and understands me. And do you really think he would even consider risking his career for a student if he didn’t feel the same way?”
“But there is something with all this that doesn’t make sense,” Helen objected, sounding very frustrated. “This has all happened so quickly and … there is something you aren’t telling us!”
Hermione felt equally frustrated. “I don’t know what you want to hear, Mum. Why can’t you just accept the fact that there may be a man who wants to spend the rest of his life with me, even if there are some hindrances on the way?”
“I can accept that. What I can’t accept is the fact that you seem to be settling for him. Not once have you said any word about actually loving him!” Helen exclaimed in a high voice.
Hermione blinked, stunned. Althea awakened next to her. “Mummy, wha’s happing?”
“Everything is alright, love, go back to sleep,” Hermione said, stroking Althea’s hair. She didn’t look at her mother. She didn’t know what to say. Even though she would stay with Voldemort, she didn’t love him.
“Can’t you see that we are worried about you?” Helen said after a minute of tense silence, making Hermione look up at them again. “This is all happening so fast.”
Malcolm looked very uncomfortable while her mother kept staring at her, looking both hopeful for any kind of explanation and worried. Really worried. Hermione hated making them feel that way. She had protected them from so much of the horrors in the wizarding world. What was one more lie?
“Of course I love him,” Hermione finally said, trying to look like anything else would be ridiculous.
Her parents seemed to believe her, but she could see that they were still tense about it. Should she try to proclaim her love more? Point out his good qualities?
She was just about to open her mouth when someone knocked on the door.
“Speak of the devil,” Hermione muttered and looked at her father. “Dad, can you open the door for me? It’s probably Marcus. He promised he would come.”
Hermione was surprised Voldemort hadn’t come by the minute she came home. He had said that he would stay with her when she came home from the hospital.
Malcolm rose, and a moment later, Hermione heard Voldemort’s voice. “Good evening, Mr Granger. Hermione is here, I trust?”
“She is,” was Malcolm’s reply.
The next second, Voldemort stepped into the room and spotted Helen. “You must be Hermione’s mother.” He shook hands with Helen before sitting down next to Hermione, giving her a quick kiss.
An overly polite conversation followed between Voldemort and Hermione’s parents. Hermione tried to look like she was comfortable with Voldemort and wanted to be with him, but there was still too much unresolved between them. Hopefully, her parents would only think her wariness was because she was tired of arguing. After around twenty minutes, Hermione decided to use her tiredness as an excuse to be alone with Voldemort.
“I think I should go to sleep,” Hermione said. “Marcus, will you help me apply the healing cream before bed?”
“Of course, dear,” Voldemort said, taking her hand and squeezing it.
“Right, should we sleep out here in the living room, then?” Malcom asked, looking around. “You can make the couch into a bed with magic, right?”
“I have another suggestion,” Voldemort chipped in and looked at Hermione. “If you want to stay with me, your parents can sleep in your bed.”
Despite the fact that he made it sound like the choice was hers, Hermione knew it wasn’t. “That sounds good. We just have to be careful not to wake Althea when we leave.”
She looked down at the child who had fallen asleep again. Althea looked so peaceful, and Hermione really didn’t want to leave her. However, she knew that if she went with Voldemort now, it would be better if Althea weren’t there. Hermione and Voldemort tended to become rather loud when they were together, both in the good and the bad things.
Ten minutes later, Hermione and Voldemort walked over to Voldemort’s flat. Once inside, everything that had happened between them a week ago came crashing back to her. How did you move on in any relationship after one part had tried to kill the other? Then, there were the reasons why Hermione had tried to kill him. She hadn’t forgotten about Peter and the Muggles. It didn’t make her mad with anger anymore, but she was still sickened by it.
“So.”
“So, indeed,” he mused, sitting down on the couch.
She sighed. Perhaps it was best to have only one serious argument a day. Voldemort would still be a mass murderer in the morning. They could have their conversation then.
“Where were you today? I though you would be at my door the moment I got back.”
“I had a lot of things to take care off,” he answered, and the smug look on his face told her it had all gone according to plan.
“Like what?” she asked, curious.
“Making sure I don’t get fired, finding Draco and getting an official apology from the Aurors for arresting me. You’ll read it in the Daily Prophet tomorrow as well as an interview with me about our relationship and secret love-child.”
“Hold on,” Hermione said, frowning. “Finding Draco? Aren’t the Aurors supposed to do that?”
Voldemort rose from the couch and came over to where she was standing. “Did you really think I would let him get away with kidnapping you?”
Hermione felt like a huge weight had lifted from her shoulders. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Draco coming after her because of what she did to his father. “Will you hand him over to the Aurors?”
He took her hands in his. “I serve my own justice, Hermione. Will you have a problem with that?”
She swallowed. The truth was that when it came to Draco, she really didn’t care. Voldemort could do whatever he wanted with him. Draco Malfoy was nothing but a coward, a bully and a kidnapper. What little sympathy she might have had for him disappeared when Draco had taken her to Lucius. However, she didn’t want Voldemort to hurt anyone else. But she was much too tired to have that conversation now. Later, when she had regained some of her strength, she would bring it up.
“Can we talk about this later?” she asked. “I didn’t lie to my parents. I am tired.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Well, it’s not like we have anything pressing to do. Let me get the healing cream. Why don’t you strip and lie down on the bed?”
He led her to the bedroom before leaving for the bathroom. Why was she all of a sudden feeling so nervous? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before. And he had said they were even after she’d tried to kill him, so she really had nothing to worry about. Yet … something had changed between them.
When he returned, she was still standing, staring at the bed. He walked up to her and started to unbutton her shirt. When she tried to brush his hands away, he just arched his eyebrow and gave her a “stop being silly” look. She let her arms sink to her sides and stood stiffly as he removed her shirt and bra.
“If you want to sleep afterwards, I suggest you remove your trousers and socks as well,” he remarked conversationally while letting his eyes wander over her naked chest.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly undressed, leaving her knickers on. Mostly to let him know she wasn’t looking for sex at all. He just looked at her plain, white underwear for a moment; then, he took her shoulder and steered her down on her stomach in the bed.
Hermione had to bite her lip to stop a moan of pleasure when he let his hands wander over her back. He didn’t put any pressure on it; he just moved his hands so close to her that she was able to feel it. Unwillingly, her knickers started to feel wet.
“My poor kitten,” he whispered and brushed her hair over her shoulder, kissing the part of her neck that had become exposed.
Hermione closed her eyes, and her mouth fell open. Oh Merlin, how she had missed this. It was so easy to forget who he really was when he acted like this. Especially when she didn’t want to remember who he really was. She just wanted, no, needed the comfort her Soul Mate provided. Everything else was unimportant at the moment.
She tensed when something cold touched her back. It was the ointment. As he spread it out over her back, she relaxed again. Even though it stung, the pleasure his hands brought her outweighed the pain. She could feel another, deeper kind of tension starting to disappear as well. Almost unknowingly, she began to cry softly into the pillow. Damn, she was an emotional wreck.
When Voldemort had finished applying the cream, she heard him mumble a cleaning spell, probably over his hand. She made a motion to sit up, but he gently pressed her down.
“You need this,” he whispered into her ear and nibbled the earlobe, giving it a bite before letting go.
Hermione relaxed again as he took her left arm and began massaging it. He gave equal attention to every one of her fingers before changing to her right arm. By the time he was done and started to massage her feet, Hermione was so relaxed she was almost asleep. However, as he begun to move up her leg, she could feel a whole new tension awaken inside her body. She was breathing hard when his fingers came up to her arse. He massaged it with just the right amount of pressure, his fingers moving closer and closer to her sex. Alas, he never came close enough to touch her now dripping centre. After a while, he hooked his fingers at the waistline and pulled her knickers down.
“Sit up,” he said, his voice a bit hoarse.
She did, kicking her knickers on the floor in the process. Once sitting, he pulled her up into his lap.
“When did you undress?” she asked when she saw his bare body.
“Earlier,” he just said and kissed her neck, carefully wrapping his arms around her.
Hermione moved her hand to his face and stroked her way up to his hair. She pulled him by the hair to kiss her, which he thoroughly did. In the meantime, his hands positioned her so her groin was right above his. More tears escaped her eyes when he pushed inside her, not of sadness but by the rightness she felt of having him inside her again. He decided the pace with his hands on her hips, making her go much slower than she wanted to. She let go of his mouth and leaned her head against his shoulder. When his hands left her hips in favour of her breasts, she increased the speed. She brought her right hand down to where they were joined and scratched him lightly at the underside of his cock before moving up to her stimulate her clit.
He chuckled against her head and kissed her ear, speeding up even more. Magic was dancing over their bodies; she could almost hear it hum. When she came, it trembled. When he came a moment later, the magic exploded around them. She could feel Voldemort taking it but also pressing some of it inside of her, filling her with power.
They fell on their sides, breathing heavily.
“Should we really have done that?” she asked after coming down from her high.
He panted hard against her head. “Yes. We shouldn’t have stopped.”
“You didn’t,” she huffed but felt too relaxed to be angry.
He sighed. “No, I didn’t want to.”
A tense silence fell over them. The magic he had given her had made her stronger, and she felt like it was time to have that talk with him. She wasn’t angry anymore, but there were still a lot of things they had to sort through if this were to work between them. She also wanted to know what “this” really was.
“I don’t want to become intimate with another man,” she stated carefully. “However, I do have male friends which I hug and want to be alone with. You won’t kill them because of that.”
When Voldemort didn’t answer, she tilted her head upwards to look at him. “Right?”
His hand came to her face, stroking her cheek. “How many male friends are we talking about?”
“Right now, it’s only Harry and the Weasleys. Perhaps a few others from Hogwarts, if I run into them. But we are just friends. They aren’t different from Ginny, Luna or Victoria, and you don’t mind me hugging them, do you?”
“No, I don’t. And I know you aren’t interested in Potter or any of the Weasley boys. But you clearly make very bad decisions when you are drunk.” His thumb stroked her lower lip.
“I don’t plan to get that drunk again,” she argued. “So, do you promise not to kill any one of my friends, just because I hug them?”
He sighed. “If you promise not to drink yourself stupid, then fine. However, if I find out that you have gone behind my back, I will make you watch what happens to them.”
“And since that will never happen, we won’t have a problem,” she growled.
His threat annoyed her, but she knew she wouldn’t start to flirt with another man, so there really wasn’t any problem. As to not get drunk, she didn’t feel like it was hard to promise never to do that again. Especially considering her current condition.
“What do you think about the fact that I’m pregnant again?” she asked instead.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he answered, his face unreadable. “Do you want to keep it?”
“I don’t know. But I think someone or something doesn’t want me to,” she said, deciding to tell him about her visitor in the hospital.
“What do you mean?” His voice didn’t betray any of his emotions.
“I woke up early this morning, around five. A Healer wondered if she could help me with anything, but I just wanted some company. We talked for a while and … she was very understanding. Told me that I shouldn’t feel ashamed if I wanted an abortion, that I could have children again later in life when I met the right person. Then I asked what made her think I hadn’t met the right person already and … I think she knew who you are. She said that children could become very dangerous under the wrong influence. Then, she disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Now he sounded a bit concerned.
“Yes. It looked and sounded like Apparition, but you can’t do that inside St. Mungo’s. And she didn’t look completely right.”
“Completely right?”
“I can’t describe it. It was rather dark, but there was something strange about her. I couldn’t tell if she were young or old.”
He was silent for a while. “Whom do you think it was?”
“I … I don’t know. It feels like I should know. Like I’ve met her sometime before, but I just … I can’t remember.”
Voldemort frowned and didn’t say anything for a moment, then he looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m going to use Legilimency on you to see if I can find something. It shouldn’t be too hard to get you to remember if you already feel like you know something.”
Her eyes widened. “You are going to use Legilimency? Just like that?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, it won’t take long and I won’t wander around looking at other memories. As long as you don’t think about them, that is. It’s very hard to shut them out if you think about them. Try to focus on the memory of your conversation with this being.”
Hermione could see that it was useless to argue, and it did irritate her that she couldn’t remember where she had seen the woman, or being, before. Preparing herself, she nodded.
Voldemort floated into her mind in a very peaceful way. Harry had always said it was painful, but this was more like a soft breeze, stroking her. Perhaps it was because of their bond?
“Focus, Hermione,” Voldemort muttered.
Hermione cursed and immediately started to think only about the other night and her visitor. She could feel Voldemort watching it; then, he began to pull on other memories. It went too fast for Hermione to really keep up with it, and after what felt like just seconds, he withdrew.
When he broke their eye contact, Hermione felt a sudden emptiness. She reached out and grabbed his hand. It made her feel better again.
“Did you see anything?” she wanted to know.
“No,” he said, frowning. “There was something … in the way. Like an Occlumency wall, but different.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “How could that have happened? I don’t know any Occlumency.”
“I know. I think something else has been inside your mind, rearranging your memory.”
That thought bothered her, and she could see that Voldemort wasn’t too happy about it either. How could someone have gone into her mind? She didn’t remember anything like it, but she did know that it was possible; she had read about it. However, it was very tricky magic, and few were able to do it. That was, if it were a human being behind this. The person she had met at St. Mungo’s had been able to Disapparate despite the wards. Why if it were she, or it, who had messed with her mind? What sort of magical being could do that, and to what end?
“But what will we do about it? Can’t you break it?” she wanted to know. She felt violated at the thought of someone else being inside her mind, without her permission.
“I have never encountered magic such as this before,” Voldemort admitted, clearly frustrated. “With time, then maybe. I’ll need to experiment, but I can’t do that to you. I don’t want to cause you brain damage.”
Hermione wasn’t too keen on getting brain damage either. “What should we do then?”
“For now, let us just go to sleep,” Voldemort said and turned so he was lying on his back. “We can research this tomorrow. You need to regain your strength.”
His sudden casualness made Hermione suspicious of something else, though. “Will you leave me when I’ve fallen asleep to go and kill someone?”
He blinked in surprise and turned his head to look at her. When he saw her bitter expression, he sighed and turned his head forward again. “You do realise that even if I did, you would have no way of stopping me?”
“I know, but that isn’t the point,” she answered and sat up in bed, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know how I will be able to deal with having a murdering … er … boyfriend, for the lack of a better word. That would make our whole relationship very destructive. I don’t want that. Especially not in front of Althea. Do you?”
He was staring at the ceiling.
“Voldemort?”
His lips curled upwards. “You are one of those people who think everyone should ‘be themselves’, right?”
Hermione did not like where this was going. “I guess.”
“I am a killer, Hermione. I’ve always been and I always will be. I can’t stop being who I am even if I wanted to.”
She moved closer to him and looked down at him with narrowed eyes. She didn’t want to believe that he would always be a killer. Or well, always be a killer of innocent people. Malfoy was one thing, but she could not accept him killing innocent people. There had to be some other way for him to be himself.
“Are you sure? Is the killing only about, well, killing, or about something else?”
He seemed rather amused. “Are you going to give me some insightful advice now that will make me turn into a good, little boy who will cry over his evil deeds?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. However, when I was kidnapped and lo-locked inside a cell …” She took a deep breath to push away the feeling of angst. “I got a lot of time to think. Isn’t it about power?”
“Everything is about power, kitten.”
“Then, don’t you kill to get the feeling of power? And if you do, couldn’t you satisfy that feeling any other way?”
He was now watching her with interest. “You have given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then, have you come up with any suggestion on how I can … satisfy that feeling?”
“Having sex with me and getting more powerful?” She knew he liked the magic that came from them having sex. It made him more powerful. Perhaps it would be enough?
He arched an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted us to share that magic.”
She scowled. “If it stops you from killing, I can give it up.”
He sat up, leaning on his elbows. “And what if I said that the sex we have isn’t enough to satisfy my need for power?”
“Then we can have it more often,” she replied, annoyed.
“Really?” He smirked, and she could see his cock rising to attention.
She leaned closer to him. “But you have to promise not to kill anymore Muggles.”
“Suck me hard enough for another fuck and I’ll think about it.”
Hermione was too tired for it. However, if she didn’t, he could leave when she had fallen asleep and kill someone to get his power kick. She didn’t want that and she felt like she had to try. A lot of people had given up a lot more to prevent disasters. It wasn’t like she minded the sex. She just had to spread her legs and think of England.

xxx

Long after they finished their second fuck and Hermione drifted away to a much needed sleep, Voldemort lay awake, staring at her. While he did like the way things had turned out between them, he wondered how long it would last. It was clear that the kidnapping had traumatised her, and all she really wanted now was comfort and safety. What would happen when she began to trust herself again? Would she demand him to change in even more ways? True, he could always go behind her back and do whatever he liked anyway, but not until he found a way to block her from entering his mind again. He was sure that was a Soul Mate thing. No one else had ever been able to do it. It didn’t feel like Legilimency, and she seemed to require touch rather than eye contact when she did it.
Now when he thought about it, hadn’t he read something about that? It had been in a footnote, but in what book?
He rolled out of bed and walked into the living room naked. He lit the lights with his wand and looked at the books. Which one had it been? He let his eyes wander over their backs, recollecting what they were about by just reading the title. He hesitated at one in the third shelf before pulling it out. No. This wasn’t it. He replaced it and continued. It hadn’t been in a book about Legilimency, but about … yes, potions. He pulled out the book he was fairly certain contained the footnote and skimmed through it. Yes, there it was. It was about a potion that protected the mind, like Occlumency did, but only for a short amount of time. The footnote said that it didn’t help against invasions of the mind that came from touch and made a reference to a German author Voldemort had never heard about. He would have to look it up tomorrow, then.
As he was replacing the book, he heard a terrified cry coming from his bedroom. Frowning, he entered the room and found Hermione curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed, crying. It made him a bit puzzled to see her express such weakness and loss of control. Who wanted to experience that? Ah, well, the usual touching would probably make her stop crying.
He sat down on the bed and placed his hand on her arm. She moved closer toward him, pushing her head against his leg and grabbing his arm like it was some sort of lifeline.
“There, there, Hermione,” he mumbled and patted her head.
She just continued to cry. He reached the conclusion that this was probably the panic she had repressed while being captured coming to the surface. She had been crying before as well for no apparent reason. Hopefully, she would feel better in the morning.
He lay down and allowed her to cling to him for a moment, until he started to find it annoying. Then, he turned her so he was holding her instead, which made breathing a lot easier. Over an hour later, she finally stopped crying, and he could follow her into sleep.
When he woke up, it was because she started to move again. He didn’t open his eyes at once. It would be nice to get to sleep some more. Sleeping was hard to do in a holding cell. If she went to the bathroom, he could, maybe, sleep a couple of more minutes.
“You were gone tonight.”
No more sleep then. He opened his eyes. “I was just in the living room.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?” She was staring down at him.
He scowled. “I couldn’t sleep. I was reading. But if you didn’t notice, I came in the moment I heard you cry. How could I have done that if I had been out murdering someone? Which I would never do in the nude, by the way.”
She seemed to believe him but was still looking suspicious. “You could have put up a ward that would notify you if I woke up.”
He sighed. “I was reading. If I had been murdering someone, I would have fucked you when I got— ouch!”
She had twisted his nipple. He grabbed her arm and wrestled her so she was lying underneath him. She wriggled, trying to get loose, which a special part of his body very much enjoyed. He smirked and pressed his groin closer against her. She growled at him.
“You did promise to have sex with me whenever I wanted if I didn’t kill anyone,” he reminded her teasingly. “And I haven’t even left the flat tonight. You can tell that I’m not lying, right?”
She stopped wriggling and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you really horny?”
“Yes, you tend to bring that side out in me for some reason,” he purred. “Alas, we don’t have much time now. But, I can get off in five minutes, can you?”
As it turned out, she could. It was a good thing, too, because only moments after their climax, someone knocked on the door. Voldemort cleaned them both with a quick spell and dressed with another, leaving his Soul Mate to dress as he went to answer the door. He had a fair suspicion about who it was.
“Mrs Granger,” he greeted her in a chipper tone. “Please, come in. Hermione is just getting up.”
Hermione’s mother stepped inside the living room while she glanced at the clock on her wrist. “Sleeping in, I hope?”
“Not at all,” Voldemort just replied, amused.
Helen Granger wasn’t a woman to blush; instead, she sent him a strict look. She didn’t like him, and even though he could charm her, it would take too much time and work. It was rather hard to get the mother of the girl you knocked up, left and then started to fuck again while being her teacher to like you. Since Mrs Granger was living on the other side of the world, it just wasn’t worth it.
“Where is Althea?” he asked instead.
“Malcolm is with her. We are just about to eat breakfast, and I was wondering if Hermione would like some as well.”
Not him then. That didn’t bother him at all. “Breakfast sounds lovely. Let me see what is taking her so long.”
Before Helen had time to say anything, he walked into the bedroom and found it empty. He heard the toilet flush and water running in the sink. He waited for almost a minute before he knocked on the door to ask what she was doing. When no answer came, he opened the door and found her staring at her own reflection in the mirror.
“What is it?” he asked, a bit annoyed, mostly because he was hungry.
“I just … haven’t seen myself in the mirror for a week,” she mumbled.
He went up to her and gently turned her around so she was facing him. “And?”
“I look … horrible,” she said, tears rising in her eyes. “How can you stand to look at me?”
He took in her lifeless hair, hollow cheeks and haunted eyes. On a first glance, she did look like she had been through hell and back again. However, if you looked beyond that, there was something more. The old Hermione was still in there, strong and passionate. There was also a new darkness inside her. One he couldn’t wait to feed and see grow.
“You’ll always be my little, beautiful, Gryffindor kitten, Hermione. It will take more than a beating and a week of imprisonment to take that away. In a few weeks, you’ll be as good as new.” He kissed the top of her head. “Come, your mother is waiting.”
As they went to breakfast, Voldemort made sure to be close to Hermione. She was weak and vulnerable right now. He would use this time to tie her so hard to him that she wouldn’t be able to live without him. Because, technically, she couldn’t. He would rather kill her than see her live a life that he had no influence over.
- 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

Shared Flame