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Two Steps From Hell	By : Ssserpensssotia Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 30375 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No profit is being made. No copyright infringement is intended. Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
Hi!
Wow!
Thank you so so much for the great reviews! I was smiling like an idiot the whole time. And I finished a chapter even before I realised it (talk about obsessed people…)
If Voldemort were real, I'd be very sad, as I am a pathetic Muggle :)
I couldn't find a proper word that one 'character' would use, and it was Serpent In Red who offered the one I ended up choosing.
This chapter is a small gift for my wonderful friend who beta-ed my crap while being sick. I cannot thank you enough, Serp!
The story is over 100.000 words now….OMFG! I have never written anything so big and I'm not done yet…
I'd ask you to be lenient with Hermione, as she has not so happy times ahead of her. You wanted to see Ginny and Draco? Here they are :) I cannot promise I'll update as fast as I did now.
You make me happy with reviews, I make you happy with a mega quick update. Cool, right?
Beta: Serpent in Red
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Two Steps From Hell
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Horcrux Mine
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Chapter Twenty One
April
"Massster, massster!"
If snakes could scream, then Nagini would sound like a banshee now.
What did the Mudblood do?
Hermione was told to stay in his study and read a book while he dealt with Bellatrix downstairs in the Fire Hall—he could have called the ballroom a Throne Room, but he wanted to be creative—and now the loud hissing was heard from near the opened doors.
Lord Voldemort straightened in his throne-like chair, and when his eyes landed on Nagini, an involuntary laugh escaped him as he saw his familiar.
Now that was a piece of art.
xxx
Bellatrix was almost done with her report in regards to the Auror training that she and her husband had been supervising when she heard loud hissing from the door.
The next second, her ears were filled with laughter coming from her Lord, and Bellatrix had never heard anything so wonderful in her whole life.
His laughter was genuine, and she heard it for the first time.
As Bella turned towards the hissing snake, her eyes widened and her jaw almost hit the floor.
Nagini's long body now had a red ballet tutu around its thick muscles, a bell on a red chain hung from where a neck would be, the head was adored by two shimmering red horns, and the tail now had peacock feathers.
The worst part were the tiny feet—like a centipede—with tiny red shoes that were located on the whole length of Nagini's stomach, making it impossible for Nagini to slither on the floor. Those tiny feet ran quickly, and before Bellatrix could close her hanging jaw, Nagini fell flat onto its face.
The hissing from the fallen snake that could not get up was getting louder and louder, and Bellatrix wished—not for the first time—to understand the royal language of snakes.
"You're dismissed, Bella."
Her Master's voice still had a laughing note to it, and his eyes were shining.
If Bella tried doing something like that to her Lord's familiar, her body would have been fed to Nagini after hours of torture.
But the Mudblood would not only get away with it, she also made her Lord laugh.
The Dark Lord was hers, and if the nasty Mudblood thought she found herself a nice warm spot under her Master's wing, she was severely mistaken.
As Bellatrix watched the Dark Lord pick up Nagini and go upstairs—to the Mudblood—she promised to make the bitch pay.
xxx
Hermione had been reading a book that Professor Pare—Viscal, as he asked to be called—had assigned while drinking tea and eating biscuits, sitting in the comfortable chair in Lord Voldemort's library.
Her new Mind Arts professor was the weirdest person she had ever met, but he was brilliant.
Viscal Pare took the post of the Mind Arts professor after the accident—Hermione still could not believe what she had done—and while Hermione hoped he would stay for long—he was so good with teaching!—she knew better.
Viscal agreed to teach the Mind Arts only until the Headmaster—Voldemort, to be correct—found a new professor—one the Dark Lord would approve of, and there weren't that many that fit in the category—and it was only because of his friendship with the Dark Lord that he had left Africa and came to Illuminus University of Magic to be a substitute teacher.
His teaching method was similar to Voldemort's—he was very knowledgeable and calm—and Hermione took an instant liking to the older wizard. He was dark-skinned with white hair that stood in spikes and golden brown eyes that were smart and curious; and while he was somewhere in his sixties, he looked strange for his years. He looked older, but his attitude was very carefree.
The small bones in his ears—earrings—and the clothing he wore only added to the weirdness of the professor, who never wore shoes and had a loose thin overall on that remained the same from day to day.
The laughing students who saw the professor for the first time quieted down when the whole room was engulfed in flames and a dead goose that kept a close eye on everyone appeared on the professor's desk.
He was a fire elemental and a Necromant; and one did not laugh in his face or behind his back without feeling the consequences.
The students that had been present when her guardian came for a visit now greeted her in the halls, and Hermione could only shake her head in disappointment.
Bootlickers.
No one talked to her—aside from Daphne, but even Daphne talked to her only because of where Hermione stood now—before Voldemort came, and now, when they knew whose charge she was, they all wanted to communicate.
The Headmaster had called her twice in the last month to ask if everything was to her liking, and Hermione did not know how she was supposed to react. While it was nice to be appreciated, she didn't want the respect only if it was because of her mentor. She wanted them all to respect her for what she was.
Hermione turned the page, and not lifting her gaze from the book, she reached for her cup of tea that was near the chair on the glass table.
When her hand closed around the cup, Hermione turned her gaze to see why it was suddenly cold when it was supposed to remain warm.
"Gaaaaaah!"
Hermione's shriek echoed in the large library as she saw what her hand was holding.
It wasn't a cup; it was Nagini.
As Hermione let go of the serpent and jumped from the chair onto the sofa, she heard the snake hiss.
"Sssss, you donkey. Watch out."
While Hermione had met Nagini four times in the last month, she still could not get used to the nasty serpent that liked to scare her whenever it got a chance.
Nagini behaved only when it's Master was nearby, and seeing that Voldemort had to step out, Nagini decided to use the situation and paid a visit to Hermione.
Hermione did not know if she would like Nagini more had she not been able to understand what the nasty snake was saying.
"Nagini wants the donkey to scratch Nagini's head. Ssssss." The huge serpent was swinging slowly to the sides, and its forked tongue was peeking out.
"I am not a donkey! Stop calling me that!"
Hermione got down from the sofa—it was idiotic—as Nagini was larger than any normal snake and could easily get to her even if Hermione climbed onto the ceiling.
"Donkey, donkey, donkey. Sssss."
Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat back into the chair. Nagini wasn't allowed to hurt her, and Hermione was not allowed to hurt Nagini.
It was an impasse for both of them. Nagini would have loved to eat her alive, and Hermione would gladly chop the serpent into a soup—snakes were tasty—but their shared friend prohibited any action that would endanger any of them.
"If you say donkey again, I'll make you pay, shoelace." Hermione moved the snake with her foot as it tried to slither up her legs.
"Sssss … Nagini is not a shoelace, Nagini is a queen serpent. Ssssss. Stupid donkey cannot hurt Nagini. Ssss."
Hermione knew that not all snakes were so bad, but it had to be her luck that the nastiest of them all had to be Marvolo's pet that also had a part of his soul inside her.
"Why are you so nasty? Can't you just shut up and go hunt mice? Or eat a Death Eater?"
If Nagini ate Bellatrix, Hermione would even scratch its belly.
"Ssss … Nagini is not hungry, but I could eat you, donkey. Ssss."
The huge snake was now slithering on the floor, showing its huge body and poisonous fangs that had killed Professor Snape.
"My name is Hermione, you overgrown worm!"
Nagini couldn't hurt her, so Hermione sneered at the snake before opening her book.
"Hermit donkey. Ssss." The snake's face was now near the book as Nagini slithered up the chair and was now reading from Hermione's left.
"Go away and let me read before I lose it, snake." Hermione tried to concentrate on the book and not pay attention to the swinging snake near her face.
"Scratch my head, hermit. Make yourself useful, donkey. Ssss."
Hermione's squinted eyes looked directly at the large yellow eyes of the serpent, and as Nagini's forked tongue came out again, Hermione stuck out her tongue at the nasty serpent.
She was being childish, mimicking the snake, but Nagini was so spoiled that it was impossible to talk to her normally.
Nagini was Marvolo's familiar, and Hermione could see Voldemort's influence from a mile away.
"Last warning, Nagini. Back off, or I'll make you regret pissing me off."
One more word from the snake, and Hermione would make it pay dearly.
Nagini's tail suddenly turned all the notes and tea on the table, ruining Hermione's today's essay.
"Sssss. Clumsy donkey."
As Hermione looked over her destroyed notes and the smirking snake, she took out her wand.
Enough was enough.
xxx
"Massster, the donkey hurt Nagini."
"I did not hurt you, you liar. You started it! And stop calling me donkey!"
"Massster, Nagini wants to bite the donkey. Just once. Pleassssse."
"I'll chop you to pieces even before you say 'Massster', you shoelace."
"Masssster, the donkey is being nasty to Nagini."
"Make her stop calling me 'donkey'!"
Voldemort had his head in his hands as he sat in his chair with a standing Hermione and a half-standing Nagini—without the Transfigured feet and red tutu—before him. The snake was simply huge.
"Donkey, donkey, donkey, donkey, donkey, don-"
"Shut up!"
Voldemort sounded pissed as he barked at Nagini.
Hermione showed all her white teeth to the now sulking serpent before she felt pale eyes land on her.
"That applies to the both of you."
Hermione pursed her lips as she glared at the snake and its forked tongue.
"Massster, Nagini is not guilty. It's the donkey!"
"I am not a donkey, you nasty piece of shit!"
The next second Hermione was sitting on the floor with Nagini in her lap, just outside the double doors that closed with a bang.
"Stupid donkey."
"Shut it, you hag."
xxx
"I am not sure I want to spend every day training and playing under close inspection. I don't want discipline."
Harry was leaning back in the chair and drinking something from a tall, bright-orange cup.
He would have bet all his Horcruxes that it was not water or juice, but he read the answer from Harry's trembling mind.
"But Harry, who said anything about discipline? You could play when you want and no one would say a word. You don't even need the medical check that is mandatory for everyone else."
Harry's large pupils were watching Nagini on the floor, and Voldemort smiled.
Harry was now thinking that it "sucked" not to be a Parselmouth and where to buy new dosage. Harry took some sort of energizing drugs in the mornings, had a shake of Muggle and wizarding cocaine during the day, and had a handful of Ecstasy pills every few hours.
Those were the fast days, but there were the slow ones as well when Potter would take Red Opium—the most powerful drug in the wizarding world—and just stare at the ceiling for days.
And in the night, Harry took a Sleeping Draught so powerful, it was a wonder Potter still didn't kill himself with it.
Voldemort knew that Harry didn't care anymore—obviously—and he knew that Potter would most probably fall off the broom on the first Quidditch match with all the drugs in his system.
He would allow Potter to play even high or drunk, if he played. If he showed them all that Harry Potter was a Seeker for the team that was officially supported by his government, Harry could drink a cauldron with the Red Opium, for all he cared.
A silent statement to be heard by everyone.
For those fools, who still held some sort of insane hope that maybe something would happen and the world they knew would return.
Pathetic, naïve fools.
He was forever and ever. And they would be replaced soon.
New generations of witches and wizards would be raised worshipping the ground he was walking on. The wizarding population was growing rapidly, as for the Dark families, the Dark Union was a paradise to live in. He was bringing more and more people to his lands, and they all came here themselves, willingly. Soon, he'd have an army of fanatics so big that even Merlin would fall from his throne.
There would be only one god, and that would be him.
"You killed my parents."
Here we go again …
"Harry, remember what I told you about your parents? They loved you like fanatics, and would not allow anything to happen to you while they lived. Like Bellatrix. Would you kill Bellatrix if you came to kill me, if I became a toddler now?"
Voldemort did not doubt that before, Potter would have hesitated, just like Dumbledore and Hermione would. Soft, pathetic fools.
But now, after a half a year of insane amount of drugs, Potter was a different person. All the stupid notions about things being bad or good, were out of the drugged mind, and Voldemort didn't doubt that now Potter would not hesitate.
His Harry had snapped beautifully.
"I'd rip her throat out and squeeze her heart in a fist before tearing your flesh apart with my own teeth."
And Potter still called himself Light.
It was ridiculous how hypocritical people really were.
"I even asked your mother, I, Lord Voldemort, asked your Mudblood mother two times to step aside. It was my mercy that had almost killed me. Not some special power that you supposedly possessed but my mercy. I shouldn't have agreed to grant Severus a wish, to allow your mother to live, and I shouldn't have asked a Mudblood to step aside. You wouldn't ask Bellatrix, would you?
When Harry's mind was in such state, the influence his words had was intensified and the additional drugs made the words come directly through to Harry's heart.
"I used simple and fast Killing Curse instead of one of the many curses that I could have used. You should be grateful I granted your parents a quick death, Harry."
He saw Potter close his eyes with his shaking palm, and Voldemort couldn't hold back a pleased smile.
Harry was so unstable and so easily manipulated, and there was no one who could overpower his influence on Harry Potter now.
"What will the Weasleys think if I play on the team?"
Ah yes, the Weasleys.
He wanted to say they would be busy with their own problems very soon—in May—but it would ruin the surprise.
"And why do you still care, Harry? They needed you only when you were the Chosen One. Now, when you have lost the Horcrux, they just cast you aside. You don't really believe they think of you as their own son?"
Voldemort saw Harry take out a small transparent package from a pocket of his robes, and then Harry threw the package into the wall in rage, as it was empty.
Slowly taking a small envelope from his inner pocket, Lord Voldemort enlarged it before Potter's greedy, insane eyes.
"That would be your first bonus, Harry. One pound of the purest wizarding cocaine and a hundred pills of your favourite Ecstasy. If you catch the Snitch, I'll give you a trunk full with Sleeping Draught and the Crystal Tears. The drug market is mine, Harry, and I'll allow you to get anything you want."
Potter's hands were shaking as he tore the package and simply put his nose into the powder.
It shocked even Voldemort, and with wide eyes, he watched as Harry snorted at least a palm of powder before popping a few pills and polishing it all off with the drink full of other drugs.
"I still hate you, though, Tom."
Yes, yes. He had let Harry call him Tom for now, as there was no point arguing with Potter when the boy was high twenty-four seven. He could punish him—he would—but he had allowed Potter this small pleasure. He and Harry had a history together, and if not Harry, then whom would he allow it?
When Potter finally reached the bottom, Voldemort would drag him up, collecting the insane mind and creating a perfect soldier. That was, unless Potter ended up dead from the overdose, which would likely be the case, seeing how Harry was behaving.
Potter was good with magic and he was powerful, and with the level of insanity that Harry was showing, he'd surpass even Bellatrix.
He wanted Potter to play Quidditch before he would start dragging Harry into the Dark Arts.
If Potter still understood the difference between a golden snitch and the sun, Voldemort would be impressed.
He was definitely going to watch the match if Harry played. He would even take Hermione with him.
That would be hilarious.
xxx
The weather was sunny, and not one cloud was visible in the blue skies.
Spring was in full force now, and Hermione closed her eyes when a ray of sun blinded her for a second.
Hermione had to lick her lips as she looked at the images. She had ordered magical literature on different aspects of adult themes, and the anonymity and the possibility to avoid the awkward or simply uncomfortable situation was worth the money—she had spent a lot—but she was sure Voldemort would not mind.
He would have gladly pay for them himself.
Hermione took the glass with the sweet wine and wet her lips.
She had tried that position, that, and that, but that one looked uncomfortable, Hermione thought while taking in the moving figures in the magazine.
She was now reading—devouring—"The Pleasure In Pain", and she could not understand if she was more disgusted or more aroused.
The magazine was on the number one spot at the WizAmazon's special list, and it was madly popular, judging by the waiting list and the price.
Two hundred twenty-one Galleons for one magazine! It was insane, and Hermione agreed with that, but why not if she could?
She could and she would.
She was curious.
She was even more curious when it came to sex now.
She could try out anything she wanted—well, except that one, Voldemort would never allow it—as she had the best possible teacher not only in University studies but also in bed.
He read her every thought, he knew her every wish, he felt what she felt, and he had a part of his soul trapped in her.
Hermione had never believed herself to be a nymphomaniac, but apparently, she was one. If she had to be honest with herself though, she had to admit she wasn't one when it came to anyone but Voldemort. She didn't even get aroused from the pictures. It was the idea that she could try it with Marvolo that drove her lust to the skies.
She was sort of interested in several branches of the harder aspects of sexual life, and all she had to do was ask.
She would have to ask herself, as Voldemort—Marvolo—while being very creative and extremely imaginative, did not cross any borders she could have had. He simply did not offer any other branch of sex, and Hermione didn't like it. She wanted to know what Voldemort truly enjoyed.
He never caused her pain, nor did he cause her the pleasurable pain that was depicted in the magazine. He did not make her do anything she didn't want to, and she was the one who would initiate the contact most of the times.
Hermione was sitting in her bright-red chair that smelled of Marvolo and she was reading the magazine when the door opened and Ron walked in.
Fucking hell!
Hermione lifted her feet at an angle, leaning back deeper into the shell-like chair, so that the cover would remain hidden and cast a non-verbal Illusion Charm, as she simultaneously tried to look normal and not like a deer caught in the headlights.
Shit. Talk about bad timing.
Ron …
Hermione did not know what their relationship was supposed to be in Ron's vision—it was a lie—but Hermione saw Ron now as a friend and a friend only.
She could pretend for Ron's sake, but there was no point in lying to herself.
She did not love Ron, and she definitely did not want him physically.
Hermione would never want to hurt Ron or any of the Weasleys, but she couldn't be the next Mrs. Weasley.
The thought made her shudder, and Hermione slapped her nasty mind.
She wasn't insane enough not to realize that she had fallen for Marvolo so hard that her brain was scattered all over the floor from the impact.
How was it possible to be so attracted to someone and hate this person at the same time?
Why couldn't she just accept the fact that she wanted to be with Marvolo only?
Hermione smiled at Ron, but her eyes did not shine.
Ron still had the key—she couldn't say "no" when he had asked—and Hermione wished to just tell Ron that he couldn't continue walking into her apartment as if it were his. Or theirs.
It wasn't theirs; it was hers.
Was it better to change the door and lie later that there was only one way to open the door? Magical signature and Voldemort had demanded it.
Before Ron even sat on the sofa, Hermione had the magazine in the stack with the rest of her papers for the University, between the Mind Arts and the Dark Arts' notes.
Hermione tried not to make drama from the fact that she had killed a person—accidentally—and that she had enjoyed the second Unforgivable, as there was no point in it.
She could wail all she wanted, but it would not change anything. Voldemort would still make her do what he thought was necessary, and he allowed only so much self-pity and self-hate.
Hermione could only try not to make similar mistakes in the future. She would not turn into an insane Dark Witch.
The Occlumency helped with emotions, as Hermione was able now to separate negative thoughts and just put them in a drawer in the cupboard she had created in her mind.
She was a monster, but she was still Hermione. She couldn't even think about the Cruciatus without shivering in disgust and self-hate.
Soon, she'd start with the barrier, and Voldemort wouldn't have to reinforce it every three days.
It made Hermione ecstatic, but at the same time, it didn't.
If Voldemort had no need to see her that often, what would happen to them?
xxx
"Harry, take more soup, darling. And the onion rings. You look so thin!"
He would vomit all over the table if he even touched the onion rings.
The smell was horrible and the food tasted of nothing—he was already used to it, as food simply did not taste when he used speed—and Harry forced his jaw to move and swallow the liquid soup.
Bah.
Harry managed to smile and make a happy face when the Weasleys looked at him, but he wanted to leave as soon as possible. He needed air and happier company.
His eyes looked normal as he had now used the charm Voldemort had shown him to put on a Glamour that did not need to be reinforced every few hours. His eyes were now green and not black from the huge pupils, and Harry almost didn't recognize his face this morning.
He looked normal, but it didn't mean anything.
Harry wiped his sweating forehead—taking so much shit in one go before going to the Weasleys wasn't his brightest idea—and drank one more glass of water.
If only he could smoke now …
Didn't the Weasleys have any sparkling drinks?
Harry loved the Magic Cola and the sweetened carbonated drinks, and he drank them in litres daily.
He didn't want to ask for beer as he was a good boy and good boys did not drink alcohol.
They only took drugs in amounts that made even the head dealer, aka the Dark Lord, to stare at them in shock.
"Mrs. Weasley, I am so full that I'll explode. Everything is so tasty, but I simply cannot anymore."
He needed a fucking cigarette and to leave this smelly room before he simply regurgitated all the eaten crap—he didn't even remember what he had eaten—onto the floor or into the window. Wouldn't that be nice …
"Harry, can we talk outside?"
Thank fucking Merlin! Ron didn't talk much recently, but if Harry would be able to leave the kitchen before the dessert—just the thought of the fatty, creamy dessert made his stomach shake—he'd gladly talk to Ron.
Voldemort was wrong about Weasleys. They didn't care about fame or money.
xxx
"And that is why I am asking for your help."
Harry had to shake his head as he had forgotten what Ron had said in the beginning of his long monologue. How long could one talk?
"Right, no problem!"
Harry had no clue what he was promising, but it wasn't like he cared really.
Ron and him had fallen apart, and Harry didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing. Ron had been there for him when he needed—except a few times when he simply abandoned him or turned his back—and while he was his friend, Harry had other company now, who didn't cry about money or how shitty the world had turned out to be. He didn't want to drag Ron into the shit in which Harry now daily swam.
It was hard to live even without such hard reminders, and Harry preferred not to see the reality.
"So you'll help me with the money?"
Whoa … wait a minute!
"But you said you had a job now, Ron. Don't you make money?"
Harry would gladly help, but he was curious. Ron was a strategist on the team—he had no idea how Ron had landed himself such a cool spot on the team when Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort were the owners—and he should be making money now.
"I make money! But I pay so much taxes and Mom needs the money, so I end up having not enough for what I want!"
Whoa … then don't want things that you cannot afford, Ron!
"Tell me again, are you the advisor or the strategist for the Chudley Cannons?" Harry asked while taking a cigarette and lightning it, not paying attention to Ron's hanging jaw.
"You're smoking!"
Well, duh …
If only Ron saw what else Harry did …
He didn't need a parent. He had a pair and they were dead.
"My smoking is not your job, is it?"
Harry closed his eyes as a new wave of pleasure clouded his mind, and he wanted to dance from the euphoria.
"I am an advisor, and I make enough money. I'm asking for your help because you're my friend, and you're Harry Potter, you cannot smoke!"
Didn't Ron say he was the strategist? If there was one thing Harry hated, it was lying. He was allergic to lies, and now he had some sort of a sixth sense when it came to lying. That was why he still hadn't talked to Hermione. He didn't want them to sit in some bar and lie to one another. He knew they both would.
The Golden Trio …
One was Voldemort's close friend, one was an insane drug-addict who was sort of pals with the Dark Lord, and one was bad liar who wanted everything he couldn't have.
A bunch of merry liars.
"Are you the strategist or the advisor, Ron? Don't lie to me. I am your friend and I am Harry Potter, so I do as I please."
And I am so high now that I could reach the sun and kiss it.
"Forget it. I'm going inside."
Harry watched as Ron just got up from the ground and walked back to the Burrow.
The old Harry would have run after his friend, but the new Harry took out another cigarette and popping in a few pills, he Apparated away.
He'd talk to Draco or Tom about Ron's position. He hated lies.
xxx
"And I don't know what I should do, Hermione!"
Ginny drank her cocktail and Hermione ordered a new round.
Molly did not know, but Ginny had written Hermione a letter, asking to meet her somewhere for a talk.
The bar Hermione had chosen was quiet and fashionable, and while being in Knockturn Alley, it wasn't that bad.
"I really don't know what to tell you, Gin. I wish I could give you a good advice, but I'm not the best person to ask."
Hermione saw Ginny purse her lips and take a deep breath.
"What would you do, Hermione? What would you do if you were in my place?"
Ginny had been flirting with a one boy from Ravenclaw, and while Ginny loved Harry, it wasn't going to work. Ginny could not approach Harry, and she didn't understand why. She waited long enough.
Harry didn't show up most of the times she had been at the Weasleys, and the times when she did see him, he wasn't very talkative. Hermione promised herself to deal with the mystery that Harry's life had become as soon as possible.
Harry was an adult, and while Hermione could pester him with questions, he didn't have to answer to her.
And Ginny was asking if it was ok to wish for physical intimacy while loving another person.
"What's his name?"
It was pretty hard to be Ginny emotionally now. Her love was nowhere to be seen, he didn't initiate contact, and Ginny was at Hogwarts. Harry did not want contact with Ginny, and Hermione did not understand why.
"Mark."
An easy name, unlike someone else's.
Hermione still didn't have a name for the whole figure that was drawing out in the sand, and she didn't like it.
But with Ginny, it was really not her business to tell Harry anything if he was acting like a pig.
"I'd do it, Ginny."
She already had.
If Ginny wanted to feel the pleasure, then who was Hermione to lecture her when she had a hot night ahead of her with one creative Dark Lord?
"Thank you, Hermione. Thank you so much for understanding and being my friend."
It wasn't that hard considering her situation. She wasn't that critical and well, prudish, now. Not anymore.
"You're always welcome, Ginny."
If only Hermione had known the consequences of her words of encouragement, she would have sewed her mouth shut forever.
xxx
Narcissa swallowed her tears as Lucius simply threw Draco across the room before casting a Cruciatus.
"Lucius, stop!" Narcissa tried to get Lucius's attention, and when her husband turned to her, releasing their son from the curse, she almost blanched.
"You know I love you, but I suggest you close your mouth, Narcissa. Our son is a drug addict, and I am not going to let him follow Potter into the abyss!"
Lucius was shaking with rage, and Narcissa did the only thing that had always helped.
She slapped him.
Her Lucius closed his grey eyes, and when he opened them, Narcissa screamed as the Cruciatus was now directed onto her.
xxx
"Father, stop!"
Draco cried from the floor as his mother was now screaming in pain, and when his father lifted the curse and walked over to him, his polished shoes clicking on the marmor floor, Draco swallowed hard.
"Are you an imbecile, Draco? I work over twelve hours almost daily to give you and your mother the best possible life. And what do you do, my son? You get high with that idiot Potter and you dare to come home with such eyes? What if the Dark Lord calls for you now? What would I do then?"
Lucius's refined face was twisted in anger, and Draco had never been more afraid of his father.
This was not the Lucius Malfoy he wanted to see.
"Why can't you do anything right?!"
The words hurt even more than the aftershocks of the curse. There was only one person Draco cherished and respected, and that was his father. And the pale grey that shone with disappointment made it hard to breathe.
"Potter also takes it, and he said the Dark Lord allowed it. Potter said the Dark Lord had given him everything himself." Draco understood it had been a wrong thing to say when his father's eyes became even more insane with rage.
"Are you a Malfoy or are you a Weasley with blond hair? Are you an idiot for real or do you just like to piss me off, Draco?"
Draco was shaking from fear as his father grabbed him by his collar and pulled up before slamming into the wall.
"The Dark Lord wants Potter destroyed. Potter is Potter, and you are my son. My son!"
Lucius's hand was shaking a bit, and Draco understood that his father was barely controlling himself.
"Lucius, please."
Draco's scared grey eyes met his mother's worried blue ones, and Draco wanted to wake up. He wanted his dad back. He wanted the world he had grown up in back.
xxx
Lucius slammed the door shut behind him as he sat in his office.
He had never cast Cruciatus on Narcissa and Draco before, but today, his son simply pushed him over the edge. And Narcissa didn't help the matters.
He was running around like a maniac, creating a perfect world for his family, only to come home and see his son on drugs that he himself was distributing all over the world.
The irony was not lost on him, but Lucius would not allow his only child to become a drug addict like Potter had become. He had seen the boy a few times, and to say that Potter was addicted would be a very hard understatement.
He couldn't allow his child to become that.
Narcissa had allowed too much while Lucius was away or busy, and he could see the results clearly.
Enough was enough.
xxx
"Are you sure?"
The lips were kissing her neck, and Hermione whispered a "Yes" before taking a handful of black hair and kissing those elegant lips with insane hunger.
"There is no safe-word for the games that I like to play, Hermione. Nothing would stop me if I started. If I tell you you're not ready, then I mean it."
Voldemort was now kissing her breasts, and Hermione had to squeeze her pillow; otherwise, she'd tear his hair from the scalp.
"I will show you something lighter, though, if you're so eager, my sweet."
"Then show me," Hermione said while looking into the pale-blue eyes.
xxx
He could show her what he liked, but with Hermione, he had to tread carefully. He needed her to fall for him completely, to show him what love meant, before he could use her emotions and finish his plan.
He was going to use his ties now and not his knives. The knives would have to wait.
As he watched the naked body on the bed, Voldemort took out four ties from their case, and as he saw Hermione shiver in anticipation, he walked closer to the eager woman.
She was definitely not a girl.
Not anymore.
xxx
Her one hand was tied to the bedpost to her left and the other to the right with the silk ties that Voldemort always wore.
Hermione was so aroused that she could barely think.
As she felt the silky material on her ankle, she could only moan as her big toe with red-painted toenail was sucked into the hot mouth.
As her other foot was now also tied to the bedpost, Hermione had to breathe fast and hard, as she wasn't getting enough oxygen. If Voldemort just touched her now, she'd come immediately.
"My ties look good on you."
Hermione had to swallow a moan as her head was lifted, and a tie was tied around her neck. It was the red one Voldemort had worn that day he had taken her. It was her favourite now.
"Touch me," Hermione breathed out as Marvolo circled around her eagle-spread form on the bed.
"Where do you want to feel me, Hermione? Here?" Voldemort's hand was now caressing her breast, and before Hermione could say she wanted him everywhere, something closed over her erect nipple.
The clip caused sharp pain, and Hermione sucked in breath as her other nipple was also captured with a clip.
The thin chain appeared between the clips and when it connected with the tie, Hermione moaned in pleasure.
She was so turned on that she was ready to explode.
The pale eyes were fierce, and Hermione thought she saw fire lick the large pupils when Voldemort leaned close to her face and captured her lips in a brutal kiss that made her come all over the bed, soaking the silky sheets.
"Or should I touch you here?"
Hermione saw black hair lean closer between her wide-spread legs, and as she felt those insane lips suck her opened clit into the hot mouth, she started to moan louder and louder.
Marvolo allowed her to come again before licking her juices from the nether lips and getting up from the bed.
"Open your mouth."
Hermione had sucked his cock many times, but never in such position.
Voldemort was standing directly behind her head which was hanging now a bit from the bed, his thick shaft was drawing slow circles on her face and Hermione felt incredible arousal as she understood what he wanted now.
She wanted it as well.
Opening her mouth and licking the cock, Hermione tried to relax her throat as she was going to be fucked into her mouth now.
And she couldn't wait.
xxx
He had to grip the bedpost when the moan was ripped from his mouth as his Mudblood twirled her tongue around the tip of his shaft as he fucked her mouth.
As he started to speed up the pace, slamming into the willing hot mouth, Voldemort gathered his will and cast the wandless spell he had wanted.
As he felt Hermione's scream of pleasure vibrate around his cock, he started to come so hard that for a second he saw stars.
As his seed was swallowed by the talented mouth, Voldemort sped up the invisible cock that had been penetrating Hermione's tight channel while he was fucking her mouth.
He had to hold his Mudblood's head with both hands as she started to come again, and as his lover opened her beautiful eyes to look at him, Voldemort smiled.
xxx
He heard his father return, and judging by the laughter, he wasn't alone.
Draco saw his mother on the stairs, come downstairs to greet Uncle Rabastan, and check what was happening, and when the doors to his father's office opened, Draco almost fell onto his ass from the shock.
Both his father and Rabastan were laughing so hard that Draco could see them both shake. While Rabastan was crying openly, his father was holding a hand over his eyes.
Lucius Malfoy was crying from laughter and that meant something very nasty was going to happen soon.
Whatever brought so much joy and hilarity to those two men could not be anything good.
"Are you finished with your task, Draco?"
Rabastan was trying to calm down, and it was his father who had asked the question. Lucius's voice was still extremely amused but held a note of warning in it at the same time.
He had done everything he had been told to do. Everything was ready, and Draco didn't know if he should be proud or horrified of himself.
He put two and two together and understood what would probably happen. And he was supposed to enjoy it?
"Mark McMillan has taken an Unbreakable Oath, Father."
Draco saw his father's eyes shine with emotion that he had so rare seen lately and his heart missed a beat.
He so wanted to make him proud.
He so wanted to see Lucius Malfoy like he was now, with a proud glint in pale grey eyes and a happy sincere smile on his refined face.
I am a Malfoy.
xxx
Ginny did not know that the eager hands and the sweet smile had been bought by the Malfoys, and she didn't see a small round ball that was taking in every movement in the room. She couldn't know that Rita Skeeter was already writing the article and that soon she'd find out what hell really meant.
She was a Weasley, and they were passionate.
She couldn't think when she wanted to just feel.
She was curious.
xxx
a/n Well, next chapter should be really interesting to write. It'd be May XD. Please let me know what you think! Waves!
Xxx
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Two Steps From Hell