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The Dragon Chronicles	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money from this.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
So tired, new chapter, thank you Reverseuniverse for betaing, hope you like it!
Chapter 23
It was the sun shining through the window that woke Hermione the next morning and made her head throb painfully. She groaned and tried to turn her back to the sunlight. However, the instant rolled over she noticed a second unpleasant ache.
Her arse felt really tender and she didn’t really want to have her legs pressed together. Thus, she ended on her stomach.
“What in the bloody hell?” she muttered, spreading her legs.
She was in her own bed at least, she recognised the smell and texture of her sheets.
She opened one eye. Her head throbbed over the added daylight, but she wanted to see what was going on. She remembered drinking with Ginny last night, so that explained the headache. But why was the rest of her body – and more importantly, her arse – hurting like it had been trampled by a dozen dragons?
“Ah, you are awake.”
Voldemort was sitting on the sofa facing the bed, a cup of coffee and the Daily Prophet in hand.
“What did you do to me?” she asked, groaning.
She was pretty sure she remembered having sex, but it was all quite fuzzy and she had never felt anything like this before.
Voldemort stood up and walked over to the bed, smiling. “You don’t remember?”
“Not really,” she admitted, still not wanting to move. She didn’t want to find out if anything else could hurt.
“You were quite happy to engage in anal sex,” he replied cheerfully.
Hermione froze. “What?”
“Oh, yes, you were quite vocal in your enjoyment,” Voldemort explained. “But as a thank you for a wonderful evening, I have a hangover potion as well as a healing paste. I assume it must have been your first time and I expect you to be quite tender.”
“You could say that,” she mumbled. “Where are they?”
Voldemort uncorked a small blue bottle and gave it to her. She downed it in one go, feeling the headache ease almost at once. That only left the pain in her arse.
“Where is the paste?” she asked, finally able to open both eyes.
He held up the jar. “If you want it, you will have to give me the pleasure of applying it.”
Hermione found herself blushing. It was clear from the aching in her arse that he was telling the truth; they had engaged in anal sex. But she couldn’t for the life of her understand what had made her agree to it.
However, she was starting to get flashes of memories of his fingers inside her and how good it had felt.
“Okay,” she whispered. She did want the aching to stop. He couldn’t possibly make it worse.
His pulled down the covers and opened the jar. It smelled strongly of fresh lavender, and she really hoped the smell wouldn’t stay for long. It would feel very disturbing to have an arse smelling of lavender.
His fingers, covered in the paste, was cool and soothing, and she found the aching disappearing at once as he carefully dipped a finger inside her, healing her.
After a couple of minutes, he withdrew his finger, magically cleaning his hand.
“Let it stay on for some fifteen minutes, then you should be as good as new,” he informed her.
She dragged the covers over her body again. She wouldn’t mind spending those fifteen minutes sleeping. Now as her pain lessened, she felt her eyelids grow heavy again. The last thing she heard was Voldemort softly chuckling as he stroked her hair.
The next time she woke up, the sun was standing high in the sky and she was famished. It was painful to move, her muscles and joints were sore and stiff, especially her upper thighs and belly.
She took a long hot shower, the humid warmth allowing her e soreness to ease, before asking a house-elf to bring her some breakfast.
She had just sat down and started eating when Voldemort returned.
“Good morning,” she mumbled, drinking her coffee.
“Good afternoon, rather,” he answered, coming to sit down in his usual armchair. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yesterday is still a bit fuzzy, though.”
“I can imagine. All that alcohol and the effect it has to the lust potion in your system would have made it hard to focus,” he stated.
Hermione frowned. “What?”
“Oh, haven’t I told you?” he asked innocently. “Alcohol greatly increases the effect the lust potion has on your body. Don’t you remember our wedding night?”
“I thought that was because it was the first time I drank it,” she said slowly, putting her coffee cup down in front of her.
“Well, that is only true because you weren’t used on having it in your system. But alcohol does make the effect more potent.”
“How long do this lust potion lasts?” she asked. It wasn’t something she had dared to ask before, because she had just hoped it would wear off with time, but now she needed to know.
“Forever. The potion itself doesn’t stimulate your lust-centre, it alters it.”
Hermione gaped. She had heard of potions that could alter the brain or body, permanently. Mostly, they were only used to give you back something you lost. Like Skele-gro was used to grow back missing bones, or transfiguration potions that altered the body to your liking. Most of those were outlawed, but Hermione had read about witches and wizards buying it on the black market, wanting to get bigger breasts or a larger penis and instead ending up with a tail or feathers on their arms.
She had never heard anything about a potion that altered a part of the brain, or how the brain reacted.
“Is there an antidote?” she asked in a low voice.
“Not that I am aware off,” he answered, airily. “Not that I would allow you to take it, if it were available.”
She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “And … strictly hypothetically, could I ever feel sexual attraction to someone other than you?”
He smirked. “Strictly hypothetically? Only if he greatly reminds you of me.”
Hermione stared down at the table. She hadn’t heard of a lust potion that worked like that, but she had read about another dark potion that had been used on people by a jealous spouse. It was called the Cure of Infidelity and made it so that one party wouldn’t want to cheat. She had never heard whether it made the intended partner more attractive or not, but she guessed it was likely. The potioneer probably wanted the drinker of the potion to still be attracted to them.
It was a highly illegal potion, but no one had been caught using it in at least three hundred years. Although, it was likely that it was still used in pureblood circles to keep a cheating partner faithful since a divorce was still frowned upon among them.
“Did you use the Cure of Infidelity?” she asked, needing to know.
“So you have heard of it? I’m surprised,” he said. “Then you know there is no known antidote.”
No, no one had managed to find an antidote before. Perhaps, once the war was over and the society was rebuilt, she could see about working for a cure, or pay some talented potion master to have a look at it.
“But why would you even care about whether or not I was attracted to someone other than you?” she asked, finally looking up at him again, feeling both anger and despair. “It’s not like I would act upon it.”
“It was you who asked for a lust potion on our wedding night,” Voldemort said, shrugging. “I used the only one I had available on short notice.”
She didn’t believe him. She was sure he had wanted this and if she hadn’t agreed to take the potion then, maybe he would have forced it down her throat at another instance.
“But that was because you looked …. inhuman,” she said, realising something else. “How come it’s still working when you look so different than you did back then?”
“It’s not about looks,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The potion is tied to my blood, not my appearance.”
That made sense at least. Blood magic was considered Dark Arts so of course the potion would contain that. She shook her head and rose, having lost her appetite.
“I have to go and see how Ginny is doing,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll see you later.”
Voldemort merely smiled and picked up a book from inside his robe.
She felt empty inside as she wandered around the castle. She did plan on checking in on Ginny, but she needed to think first.
She had always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it would be difficult for her to get a new partner after they had got rid of Voldemort. Not only because everyone knew that she had been married to him and would thus probably be a bit intimidated to be her next boyfriend, but also because she would probably need therapy for years before she was ready to be an intimate with a new partner.
Now she knew that it would be practically impossible for her to even feel those feelings for another man.
Good thing she had Kara, because it looked like it would only be the two of them for a long time. Her life would still have love thanks to him. That would have to be enough. It just had to.
She wasn’t sure how long she had wandered around before she ran into McGonagall on the fourth floor.
“Hermione,” she said, an expression of discomfort on her face. “Would you mind speaking to me in my office?”
“Not at all,” Hermione said, but felt unease fall over her.
She vaguely remembered seeing McGonagall the day before. What had she done?
McGonagall gestured for her to sit down in the lounging area of her office, but while Hermione was sitting on the hard red sofa, McGonagall kept standing.
“I want to start by saying that I cannot fathom the pressure you must be living under every day,” McGonagall begin and Hermione knew at once that she was in for a lecture. “Running the school is hard enough as it is, but to do so under the eyes of someone like him? I doubt I would be able to do it as well as you have.
“Nevertheless, we are a school in charge of setting the standard for hundreds of young witches and wizard and therefore it’s frowned upon to come intoxicated to school. At least while there are still students roaming the halls. And no personnel during all my years at the castle has ever been out drinking with a student,” McGonagall said, frowning down at her, her lips pressed tightly together.
Hermione could feel a blush spread over her cheeks. “I know Professor, and I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
McGonagall sighed and finally sat down in an armchair. “I’m not your Professor anymore, Hermione. But I am Miss Weasley’s and that’s why I felt obliged to mention it.”
“I know. I’m not sure what we were thinking, actually. We were both just feeling the weight of the war and wanted to do something to release the tension,” Hermione explained. “And this was the last time we could do it together for at least another nine months, so we sort of threw caution to the wind.”
McGonagall gasped. “Dear Merlin, are you with child?”
“Oh, no,” Hermione quickly said. “Not me. Ginny.”
McGonagall’s eyes grew even wider, then she flew up from her seat, wand in hand. “Malfoy will rue the day he was born.”
Hermione quickly got up too, grabbing her upper arm to stop her. “It isn’t Malfoy’s child! And I’m afraid I still need him as my Defence teacher so you can’t kill him just yet.”
McGonagall paused, her eyes narrowing. “Tell me everything, Hermione.”
Taking a deep breath, Hermione told the older woman all about her compromise with Voldemort on Ginny’s behalf and how she was now pregnant with Harry’s child.
“That poor girl,” McGonagall finally said when she had finished. “And you’ll pretend it’s someone she met at a party?”
“Yes. Premature children are not all that uncommon, after all, especially not when the mother is under so much stress,” Hermione said. “We will keep it a secret while she is still at school for as long as possible. At least she will no longer be a student when she has the child.”
“No, although I think we may have to prepare ourselves for that possibility now when abortions have become illegal,” McGonagall said dryly.
“Yes, I thought we should have Madam Pomfrey teach everyone anti-conception spells as soon as possible. From class four and upwards. I know it’s been custom to have every child’s own parents teach it when they think they are ready,” Hermione quickly injected. “But everyone knows that children will do it no matter what views their parents have on whether they are ready or not. Everyone should at least get the choice on using protection or not.”
“I think that is wise,” McGonagall said, nodding slowly. “Of all Headmasters, I suspect you are the one most likely to get away with it when the board finds out.”
Hermione smiled grimly. “Yes, being married to a serial killer sure has its advantages.”
xxx
It was after dinner when Hermione managed to find Ginny, sitting in the far back of the library. She had built a small fort of books, but didn’t seem to be actually reading them. Instead, she sat staring off in the distance, not even noticing that Hermione was there until she lay her hand on her shoulder.
“Oh, you scared me,” Ginny said, jumping.
“Sorry,” Hermione said, sitting down and casting the Muffliato spell around them. “How are you feeling?”
Ginny grimaced. “Madam Pomfrey got me a hangover potion after a lot of scolding. How are you?”
“My husband had one for me when I woke up,” Hermione said, not mentioning the other potion he had also had prepared.
“That was nice of him,” Ginny asked, a note of suspicion in her voice.
Hermione shrugged. “Sometimes he is. At least when he thinks I have done something good.”
“Like having sex with him?”
Hermione blushed. “Yes, like that.” She wasn’t proud of the display she had put on yesterday.
Ginny stared down at the open book in front of her for a few seconds. “You acted very strange the moment he came. I mean, I have never seen you that drunk before so I don’t know if you are the type of person that gets horny when she is drunk, but you seemed to act almost like I did when I…”
She trailed off, and Hermione realised Ginny was thinking about when she had been drugged with a lust potion and slept with Malfoy.
“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “He gave me Cure of Infidelity on our wedding night. Apparently it’s intensified with alcohol.”
“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny said, aghast. “I had no idea.”
Hermione grimaced. “It doesn’t matter. Without it, I doubt I would have been able to go through with this. I mean, before I got the potion, the thought of him touching me made me panic.”
“Yeah, but there is no antidote for the potion,” Ginny said, her eyes full of sympathy.
She shrugged. “What’s done is done. It has helped me thus far to live with him. Though I will try not to drink alcohol again while he is around.”
“Did he force you to do something bad when you got back home?” Ginny asked in a low voice, looking worried.
Hermione blushed harder than she had all day. “Well, not bad like I was hurt. Or well, not in any permanent way at least. Just a bit sore today. But he just…”
She trailed off, sighing. “I won’t let it bother me, though. He would just try to hold it over me. It’s just sex in the end.”
“It’s good if you don’t feel upset after it,” Ginny said softly, taking her hand.
Hermione stared down at the table. Should she be more upset by it? She had been furious when she had found out that Ginny had been drugged with a lust potion, but she wasn’t angry with Voldemort anymore. It was just a matter of fact that he had used it on her, even though her situation and Ginny’s was similar.
No, like she had just told Ginny, if she let it get to her, then Voldemort would hold it over her. The man already knew how to press her buttons, she didn’t need to give him more buttons to abuse.
“I just hate seeing you like that with him,” Ginny suddenly said.
“Like what?” Hermione asked.
“All over him like that,” Ginny explained. “I just … he looks exactly like he did when he was young. He showed me memories of himself in the diary, and he looks exactly like that now, only older.”
Hermione felt ashamed that she hadn’t realised how hard it must have been for Ginny to once again come face to face with the man who had tried to overtake her very soul when she was just eleven years old. She was such a bad friend!
“I’m so sorry, Ginny, I didn’t even think of that,” Hermione said, squeezing Ginny’s hand. “I’ll try to keep you two away from each other so you don’t have to see him.”
“No, that’s okay, I can handle it,” Ginny said quickly. “I’m just afraid that he will … I don’t know, trick you somehow?”
“I know who he is,” Hermione told her, frowning.
“Yes, that’s not what I meant,” Ginny said. “If anyone knows how charming and manipulating he can be, it’s me. He can make you think that you have the upper hand, but really you are just doing exactly what he wants.”
Like when he tricked her into drinking the lust potion, Hermione though suddenly. Was there anything else he could have tricked her to do that was really just his idea?
“I try to think things through before I do them,” Hermione said slowly. “So he won’t fool me like that. But you are right, he is very manipulative.”
Perhaps she needed to do something completely different from how she usually did things. Something he wouldn’t see coming because she would think it was a stupid idea. And in the meantime, do things that he would see coming because she was already planning it.
“Do you know if there are any pictures left of him here at school from when he was young?” she finally said.
She had been planning to distribute pictures of Tom Riddle when he was young once Voldemort had started to show himself in public more and more. But he didn’t seem very interested in showing himself in public. He often had a hood on when they were out, so only the people here at the school and his Death Eaters saw him without it.
Perhaps she should isolate him instead. She did not want to spend more time with him so he wouldn’t think she would create a plan which lead to them spending more time together.
“I think so,” Ginny said. “Don’t they usually take pictures of the Prefects every year? Maybe they did that when he was young too?”
It was worth checking on, Hermione agreed. It was time to push the plan forward one more step.
xxx
Voldemort couldn’t get over the smell of Hermione. He enjoyed it, but it was a distraction from more important things. Thus, he had to leave their chambers to clear his head. He called for Elva and met her out on the school grounds, by the lake.
What’s bothering you, Mother? Elva asked when he reached her.
Since he had never got them to call him Voldemort, only Tom, he was actually relieved that they now called him Mother instead. It was an honorary title among them after all, and it was also a matter of fact. He was the Mother Dragon in their herd now.
“It’s the smells,” he told her in a low voice. “I haven’t got used to it.”
You are probably just missing the mating, Elva mused.
“I did just mate with her,” Voldemort said, rolling his eyes. “How many times to I need to do it for the smell to stop being so intoxicating?”
The last Mother always stopped sniffing when her eggs started to grow, Elva responded.
Voldemort groaned. Of course. Why hadn’t he considered that? He had ordered Tolv to mate with the other females of the herd, of course their bond would send those instincts to him.
“How long do you think it will take for your brother to complete his task?” he asked.
Elva thought about it, trying to remember how long it took for the last Mother. Three moons, maybe?
Voldemort sighed. That was just typical. He was trying to focus on hiding his soul in Hermione, but when he was close to her, he just wanted to mate with her. Even though he loathed children!
“Fine, I will just have to postpone the plan then,” he mumbled to himself.
Elva nudged his side in comfort and he absentmindedly stroked her snout. He was immortal now, he could wait until Tolv was done with his mission. Besides, he needed to be able to focus to do the ritual of hiding his soul, otherwise he risked it all to go to hell.
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The Dragon Chronicles