Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
Fanfic disclaimer: All those of you who've read Chelle's wonderful story Keogh will recognise a certain coarse phrase Hermione uses in this chapter. Shit-fire-mother-fucking-damn is owed and invented by Chelle, and I am just borrowing it once. To me it felt like the only thing Hermione could say at that moment in my story. If you haven't read Chelle's story Keogh at grangerenchanted dot com yet, then you're missing a terrific Hermione story (pair: Hermione-Cedric with Snape as… well, I won't spoil you). And this is coming from someone who normally only reads Hermione-Tom/LV stories, so me liking it is saying something. Warning: fic seems abandoned, now.

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory

You only live twice or so it seems,

One life for yourself and one for your dreams.

You drift through the years and life seems tame,

Till one dream appears and love is its name.

And love is a stranger who'll beckon you on,

Don't think of the danger or the stranger is gone.

This dream is for you, so pay the price.

Make one dream come true, you only live twice.

Nancy Sinatra; You only live twice

Chapter twenty-four

A storm is approaching. Wind is howling through the trees as I stand in front of the gates of Everon. Darkness whirls around me, brushing my robes and hair. It's like a dark cloud that embraces me. Pain, fear and hatred are evidently present in the sky, but all I want is vengeance. I can feel it in the bones of my body. I can hear it pulsating through my veins. I can see it with my pitch-black eyes. This Kingdom is going down, one way or the other. I will tear down every last wall and every single brick inside and I will obliterate these elves from the face of the earth permanently.

Nothing will remain; nothing.

I see a small shadow moving from the corner of my eye. It's Kreacher. And his words ring through my brain. 'Everon Elves are not to be trusted, Mistress Hermione. Everon Elves are not to be trusted.'

But this is not news to me. I know what I have to do… I will do it now.

'This is not our way, Hermione,' Yoda speaks.

I turn to the small monk and smile. He is a beacon of light in a world that knows nothing but fear and angst. I once adored this man and what he stands for, but he is a fool.

'This is the only way,' I reply certain.

'If you say so…' he says questionably. 'But you will fail.'

'I never fail.'

Yoda says nothing in return, but I see the disappointment in his eyes. They're filled with sorrow and sadness. However, I am not letting him distract me of my goal. I came here to destroy this Kingdom and I will succeed. My hands rise in the air and I call upon every bit of magic around me. I summon it. I drain it all. And with every inch of skill I possess, I trust it all towards Everon. My darkness strikes the gates with all its might and my cold laugh accompanies the destruction when I watch the Kingdom and everyone in it being ripped to shreds entirely.

Triumphant, I turn to Yoda; his powers I was unable to touch due to their Light origin, but it is irrelevant. Victory is mine.

'I told you I would not fail,' I say smugly.

'You just did,' he softly says and Apparates away.

I open my eyes and look around the empty bedroom. Once again I had a vivid nightmare. The repetition of the theme gives me the creeps. I try to shake the feeling, but I seem to be unable to lose it. Even worse is that I still want to obliterate Everon. My hands are trembling severely and I slide to the edge of the bed to sit there, hoping that another position will ease some of the pain I am feeling. What happened to me? One minute I am reading and… Voldemort!

I growl and take my pounding head in my hands. He nicked my book and he must have done this to me. Somehow. I have never wanted to kill before, but now I just feel very inclined to Apparate to Brazil and blast those bleeding elves to pieces. A soft green light glows against the insides of my eyelids, so I look down and stare at the stone. Sure, it is glowing. I had a nightmare and the damn thing is glowing. I roll back into the bed on my belly, covering my head with my hands. I need this to end. This stupid Amulet has to go. It is giving me a headache. A tall shadow falls over me and I groan when a hand softly lands on my neck.

'Good, you're finally awake,' Voldemort says calmly.

'If it isn't the book burner,' I snarl, when he sits down next to me.

'You're welcome.'

'You're welcome?' I repeat, flabbergasted. 'I have never approved of burning books.'

'You don't remember, do you?' he asks softly.

'Don't remember what?' I retort.

'Turn around,' he orders.

Oh, there we go again with the demanding and the bossing around. 'Go away. I have a headache.'

'I know. It is a very common symptom of withdrawal from addictive books.'

I peek through half opened eyelids, but all I see is my pillow and I bury my head back in it. Besides, I don't know what he is mumbling about, but I have never been addicted to anything. He rubs my neck gently. That feels really nice. I think I'll go back to sleep now.

'Hermione,' Voldemort says warningly, 'I need you to stay awake and turn around.'

I groan. Can't he just disappear? Maybe I shall make him disappear … yeah, that sounds like a wonderful plan. No more annoying disturbances. No more nagging when I am not feeling well. Sounds delightful. A brush of magic hits me. I am flipped over onto my back and pinned down on the bed. Really, now I am thoroughly pissed.

'What do you think you arehmmbgfdk…'

I struggle, cough and spit, while he continues to pour a potion down my throat calmly. I have never tasted anything like it, so I try not to swallow it, but only a bit of the disgusting draught gets spilled and the majority of it, whatever this is, makes it into my system. Voldemort's black eyes are looking amusedly at my futile attempts to wrestle free from his hold. So I stop wasting my energy and drink the rest without further resistance. He nods approvingly and strokes my hair.

'I see you have regained the ability to use your brain,' he says smirking.

Somebody hand me a gun now. But alas, I have no weapon at my disposal, so all I can do is glare at him, which seems to heighten his amusement. Even though he is annoying me to tears, I have to say that his handsome face turns even more attractive when he is enjoying himself. His jet-black hair seems to have an almost blue glow about it and the several tufts of grey in there really makes him more delectable. His pale skin is flawless and where it would make others seem sick, with him it fits and enhances his overall attraction. I won't even start to try and describe the delicate bone structure in his face, but he appears powerful, masculine and strong as a result of it.

However, those eyes of his… They are what draw you in. Those black pools of depth. You want to look in them forever and never let go. I can just drown in … eh, wait a second… What happened to his blood-red colour? And to my utter shock, I see the white of his eyes have stopped being completely bloodshot. There is still a hint of a gleam of red in them, but it is no longer the highlight of his eyes. Why have I not registered this previously? I can't believe this. He can start making Horcruxes soon and become immortal again. Shit. This is a disaster.

'There you go, dear,' he adds, pouring the last drop down my throat before placing the bottle on the nightstand. He moves back into a sitting position, releasing his hold over my body. So I take a swing with my fist at him, but he catches my arm and holds it tightly. 'Let's dispense of the muggle punching, shall we?'

'Fine, hand me a wand,' I hiss.

He smirks. 'You need to rest and gather your strength. You're in no state to duel, darling,' Voldemort says condescendingly.

'Well, then I suppose you have nothing to worry about,' I snarl.

'I suppose not,' he says contemplatively. 'But it wouldn't be fair.'

I raise my eyebrows in mock surprise. Since when does he care about fairness?

'You owe me a life debt, and I will feel obliged to use that to my advantage and collect on it, if we are to start duelling,' Voldemort says.

'What life debt are you talking about?' I say, bemused.

'The one were I saved you from death by starvation and dehydration, because you wouldn't have wanted to get your nose out of that Everon Jewellery book ever again,' Voldemort replies casually. 'You owe me, Hermione. A wonderful thing, don't you agree?'

Now, I am thoroughly confused. 'What are you talking about?' I ask again, pushing myself up in a seated position.

'The Elfin book was bewitched. I am assuming you've heard of addictive books before?'

I nod slowly.

'This was one of them.'

I shake my head. 'It couldn't have been, I would have noticed,' I disagree.

'Without being able to use your magic?'

I frown. It couldn't have been an addictive book. He is playing me. He always is. This has to be one of his schemes.

'Think back, Hermione,' Voldemort says quietly. 'Think about everything that happened since you obtained that book for the first time and compare it to the known symptoms.'

Addictive books, Professor Snape spent an entire lesson on Dark Arts Items such as these. I remember the lesson very clearly, because Ron started commenting that he knew of a book where he would have liked Snape to stick his greasy nose in. It was very annoying and disturbing, especially after Harry started to add suggestions to Ron's ideas. The Professor quickly put a stop to it and Snape sneeringly assured them that they could serve detention with him for disrupting his lesson despite the fact, and I quote, he was very much aware of them not needing of this information anyway, because he did not consider them at risk from reading anything besides my notes in the first place.

I also recall the lengthy chapter in Confronting the Faceless about such books. They work gradually, step by step luring the reader in. At first, you can still put the book away yourself, but pretty quickly you won't want to do that anymore. And you try to keep reading even in the most ridiculous circumstances. The next stage is that you only put the book away when someone else tells you. You can no longer do it yourself. But you are still in the clear as long as you don't pick it up again.

After a while this expands and you start to think of the book continuously if you are not reading it. You'll think it will contain the answers to the universe, and at a certain point, you hit the pivotal point. Then, you can no longer put it away and someone else can't order you to do so either. You will try to do what it takes to remain reading, even if that means killing everyone who stands between you and your book. You'll lose interest in everything else. You forget to eat, drink, sleep, bath… And eventually you will die because of this. You want the book. You need the book. Even though you are no longer progressing in it, but you don't notice that part anymore. Your reality is blurred and you think you are reading new things when all you do is read the same page over and over again; the pivotal page. Suddenly, I remember.

'You're still on the same page. No touching, Granger. This is page 308 in the centre of the book. I recall seeing you read this book some days ago and you were already at the centre of it back then. Now, you just flipped a page and you're still on page 308. I think we may have a bit of a situation here that needs resolving.'

I gasp and slam my hand in front of my mouth. Oh Circe, I read a same page over and over again. And earlier on, I made the book hover in midair, so I could keep on reading, while Voldemort was kissing me and… I didn't want to eat, when he told me some other time we were going to. And I wanted to kill him when he tried to keep the book away from me. I wanted it back. I needed it back. No wonder it took me so long to finish Tom Riddle's file. The stupid Elfin book was interfering. It could have killed me. Uncertain, my eyes dart upward to Voldemort in clear acknowledgement of his earlier statement. Bloody hell, I owe him a life debt; Him. Worried about the consequences, I bite my lip. Shit.

Lord Voldemort cups my cheek and caresses my face. 'I am glad we finally agree on the situation,' he says smirking. 'It would displease me thoroughly if we were to misunderstand one another here.'

I have to find some way out from underneath this. I have to. Got it!

'I don't owe you a thing,' I state triumphantly.

'Oh?' he responds, amused.

'You were the reason I was reading that book, so you are the one who endangered my life to begin with,' I say smirking. 'No life debt is owed when the person responsible for the peril is the one who does the saving.'

Pleased with myself, I fold my arms over each other and I am considering keeping the smirk as a permanent feature on my face. Until I see his joyous expression, which makes my pleasure fade rapidly. I push my body back into the pillow that rests behind me when Voldemort leans towards me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Apprehensively, my eyes dart sideways between my two shoulders where he places his slender hands beside. They have lost that spidery look when he Transfigured his old features back, but those hands are still very capable of performing everything they did before. I don't even notice that I have slid down a bit when Voldemort's handsome face halts inches away from me. I can see the white of his dark eyes and there isn't a single spot of red in them at the moment. He locks me with his gaze and my breath stays frozen inside my chest. Shit. I overlooked something.

'You were the one who asked for those books, Hermione, I did not force them on you. Hence, I did not cause the peril you are referring to,' he says smoothly.

'You wanted me to research your no longer scary eye issues,' I say, determined not to lose my ground. 'Hence, I needed those books. Hence, you caused the peril I was in.'

'Hmmm…' he muses. 'If I recall correctly, it was not an order of me, but a deal. You would tell me one thing and I would inform you about something you wanted to know. So you chose to be in this peril yourself.'

'I never chose to be in this peril at all,' I sneer. 'This is all your doing.'

A tense silence greets my sneer, until he finally responds, shrugging about the loss of his life debt. 'I suppose I have to concede to that.'

Voldemort is now eyeing me in a manner that makes me wonder if he is pleased I found a way out from underneath his debt, because he cocks his head slightly and is smiling at me with a distinct twinkle in his dark eyes. He really looks attractive this way. I wish he would change back. His snakelike, inhuman features are much easier to deal with, especially after you've got used to seeing them. This handsome façade is creeping me out. It's such a contradiction to his character, it is uncanny. It is so easy to forget who he truly is when he looks like this. I really don't get why he changed it. He would have had far more female Death Eaters if he kept this appearance.

'Would I now?' Voldemort says deviously. 'But you're all I want, Hermione.'

I growl out of frustration for his intrusion into my privacy. 'The feeling is not mutual,' I sneer.

'I think it is,' he whispers in my ear. 'I think, you like what you see and are having a hard time acknowledging to yourself that you want me.'

I do not feel the need to respond to that idiotic statement. I don't get the chance either. His lips are already crushing down on mine with a hunger like he hasn't tasted me before. With a swift move he pulls me down and places his body on top of me, kissing me relentlessly while his hands are teasing my body with magic. I moan inside his mouth and my hands move to his head. I do love that hair of his. Oh Godric, why can't he be a normal, nice man who kisses like this? Another brush of magic makes me arch toward him violently and my eyes flutter shut. A deep groan leaves my throat as I feel a severe ache rising below and I need him inside of me as soon as possible. It's when Voldemort leaves my mouth slowly and stills his manipulation of my body. I open my eyes to stare straight into two very amused ones.

'As I said,' Voldemort casually speaks in victory, 'you want me, Granger.'

With an elegant swing he is of the bed and swirls out of the bedroom, leaving me flabbergasted and thoroughly unsatisfied on the bed. After a considerable amount of time has passed I am finally able to construct a single reasonable thought: nutcase.

Yes, that is absolutely the correct word to use for him. He is absolutely bonkers and … a bloody tease. So I go to the bathroom to take a much needed cold shower. Prick.

For a brief moment I glance at my reflection in the bathroom's mirror as I pass it. My eyes are almost black now. I can only see a shimmer of brown in them. I bite my lip and shiver shortly, before shrugging and taking that much needed shower. It's not like I know or understand why it is happening, so I can't help it if my soul is darkening. I wish I knew what it was that caused it and I look at the blasted Amulet contemplatively. Maybe it's the stupid stone? Or maybe it is just Voldemort getting underneath my skin? I sigh and hit my head on the wall repeatedly. I don't feel different, I think. I am still me, ain't I?

When I finally make it to the dinning room to have breakfast, Voldemort has just finished and he is eyeing me with a devilish glint. Well, he is nothing short of the devil, so…

'Enjoyed your shower, darling?' he asks snickering, interrupting my train of thought.

I take my usual chair without responding to his pun and take a sandwich from the ridiculously large pile for two people, but I am quite hungry. I take a bite when I realised I am being watched thoroughly. I look sideways to where he lazily sits and I arch an eyebrow at him questioningly.

'It's good to see you have an appetite again,' he says calmly to my unspoken question. 'It means you've overcome the effects of the book fully.'

'Is it gone completely?' I ask him.

'The Everon Jewellery book?'

I nod.

'Yes,' he slowly says, frowning, 'why so interested?'

'I wanted to know if it was safe for me to return to your study. I still have lots of reading to do,' I reply casually.

'You dare?' he asks teasingly.

'I've obviously wasted enough time the past few days with reading nonsense,' I retort cheeky, since it wasn't just the Elfin book I was reading.

He picks up on my pun in regards to his file and smirks. 'If you want to read something really interesting, Hermione,' he snickers, 'why don't you try this?'

And he waves his wand around. With a thud a voluminous red file with gold trimmed letters drops next to my plate. Hermione Jean Granger, 1991-1997 it says. Frowning, I look at my Hogwarts' file. It's definitely thicker than his and I missed an entire school year. I am not sure I want to know what is in there. If he is offering it to me, it can't possibly be anything good.

'Funny,' I say, 'but I remember what I did back then.'

'Ah,' Voldemort sighs, 'but you may not be aware of the perspective certain others had of your doings.'

And he whips his wand, making the leaves turn. I recognise the fine script of Albus Dumbledore from the corner of my eye, but I pretend not to be interested at all and eat another sandwich. Voldemort snorts and leans forward. He pulls the file towards him with his left hand, while his right hand cups his face to support it with his elbow on the table casually. He is pretending to be thoroughly entranced by the sentences in my file, like he doesn't have a single clue to what's in there. Irritated, I glance at his casual posture. The man had too much practise using his good looks to the best of his advantage. I'm so glad I wasn't in Hogwarts simultaneously with him. I thought dealing with Draco and his noisy groupies was bad. I can't begin to imagine what entourage Tom Riddle would have procured. But it would have been no doubt aggravating and distracting, like the annoying trail that followed Viktor around in my fourth year. I never got any work done in the library that year due to those giggling fools.

'You'd expect Minnie's handwriting in your file, since she was the deputy headmistress in your days,' Voldemort drawls. 'But look at the wonderful, exuberant script we have here,' he adds mocking. 'It seems our grand ex-headmaster took time from his important, busy schedule to add some nice comments to a permanent student record. Care to hear his observations about you, Hermione? Don't tell me you're not interested to hear what he thinks of the girl, who saved his boy wonder's arse multiple times before Potter made a fool of himself?'

'Don't drag Harry into this,' I hiss.

'I am not dragging Potter into this; Dumbledore is … in your record,' Voldemort says and he pushes the file over to me expectantly.

Unable to resist the temptation my eyes dart over the sentences before me and I totally miss the small, satisfied smile that flies over Voldemort's face. Slowly, all colour starts to drain from my face as I read what is undoubtedly Albus Dumbledore's handwriting. I've seen it enough to recognise it. The words he uses to describe me are not very flattering. I check the date again. He wrote this during my fifth year. Right after I complained to him about Umbridge's barbaric punishments and the lack of action from any of the adults against it. So I was a bit pissed then... But there really is no need to overreact about it, like Dumbledore is doing in these sentences. I continue cautiously, because I am getting a bit concerned about what will come next. I swallow and it feels like someone punched me harshly in the stomach when I read the sentences Voldemort must have been referring to.

The threat remains that Hermione Granger's darker tendencies combined with her thirst for knowledge may cause harm to Harry and his noble cause. It would not surprise me in the least if the girl is harbouring an agenda of her own. Her likeness to Tom Riddle in her reactions is startling similar as she just practically ordered me to get rid of a teacher. And should Lord Voldemort ever find her I have no doubt in my mind that she will hand over Harry Potter to him in a heartbeat for the mere chance of gaining access to his vast library on the Dark Arts.

Fuming, I fly to my feet. I… I hand over Harry! Says the person who did nothing but throw Harry in the line of fire, while he remained at the sidelines continuously! The adult who let children do the fighting for him! The absolute nerve of that… that…plotting, scheming, manipulative coot! Oh, he is so lucky Snape threw him of the tower before I read this vile bullshit. I hope he rots in hell. I snatch a bottle of pumpkin juice of the table and swirl out of the room to read something from the vast library, which I, apparently, would betray everyone for. Weeks and weeks and weeks of torture I endured, while Voldemort dangled his books in front of me as my salvation, but I waited for the protection of the Amulet so I wouldn't succumb to his books and the threat they pose to me, and then, to read this… this!

Furious, I slam the door of Voldemort's study hard. How dare he? How dare Dumbledore accuse me of betraying my friends without as much as a single question to his own sanity in thinking it? I'll Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak him. I kick the table in anger, but now my toe hurts too and I am shaking my leg to relieve the hurt when I hear a soft chuckle coming behind me. I swirl around and glare at He-Who-Is-The- Source-Of-All-My-Aggravation.

Voldemort is standing in the doorway, leaning against the rim with his shoulder in an utmost nonchalant display. Despite my furious mood all I can think is: yummy. I scowl at myself and my foolish thoughts. Yes, the man definitely had too much practise using his looks.

'If you think for a moment I am going to fall for this ridiculous, mindless trap you're trying to make me walk into, mister,' I snarl, advancing upon him, 'than you've got another thing coming. You manipulative, scheming bastard.'

'I,' he says, with clear emphasis on the pronoun, 'I never said nor pretended to be otherwise with you, which is not something that can be said for everybody else around you.'

Still angry I grumble somewhat underneath my breath in return, because I really don't have a witty reply to his correct statement there.

'Besides,' he adds, eyeing me thoughtfully, 'I would never have been so foolish to make the mistake of seeing you as the weakest link around Potter.'

Voldemort pushes himself of the rim and I take a step backwards, but he closes the distance between us swiftly. My heart skips a beat as I look up into his oh so delectable face. No, I am not that shallow. I can practically hear Ron cough Lockheart again and I move backward even further. It's this compatible magic thing, that's what this is… nothing else. But I feel my heart racing, betraying my true feelings as I push them desperately away underneath the lit they need to be under. I need to clear my head. I need to keep thinking. I need to … not entrap myself against a windowsill! His hands land on either side of my body, boxing me in completely.

'Where will you go now, Hermione?' he asks teasingly.

I stare at him. The magic inside of me is pulling me towards him and a part of me wants to do nothing more than just snog him senseless. I do remember our previous times together and they were unbelievable. I just want to forget everything and jump all over this extremely attractive, hot… Oh fuck, now I need another cold shower again. Oh what the hell do I care? I need to get some initiative in this twisted relationship. So I jump in his arms. To my utter amusement, I see shock running over his face as he stumbles backwards from the sudden extra weight he now needs to carry. But he holds me tight, while regaining his balance.

'Forward,' I answer snickering.

'Obviously,' Voldemort mutters.

However, I do not let him utter another word, because my hands have taken a hold of his head and I press my mouth on his, kissing him exuberantly. His hold of my body tightens as his fingers dig deep into my skin. Finally, we break the passionate kiss, both gasping for air and slowly, I allow my body to glide down against his with a mischievous smile on my face. He is looking down at me with an uneasy frown, but I will have that frown removed in seconds. Quickly, I unbutton his robe and I can feel him tense up as I take his member in my hand. Now, now, it's a bit too late to get all shy around me.

A sharp intake of breath accompanies my strokes and I smirk. Time to use my mouth here. A deep moan follows my ministrations and I start by licking his erect tip teasingly. He shifts on his feet and grabs a hold of my hair with one hand in an attempt to no doubt regain some form of control over the situation. I beat him to his idea and allow his penis to enter my mouth fully. I can feel him restraining himself from bucking against me. I would have never thought in advance that sucking the Dark Lord's cock would grant me such a delightful feeling of power and control over the situation I am in, but it does and as much as I like being in control normally, I want him to force me now. I want him to dominate and manipulate me to do all kinds of things no good Gryffindor girl should.

Fortunately, this good Gryffindor girl is currently kneeling in front of the most evil wizard of all time, so I'll probably get my twisted, little wish when I slowly withdraw from him. A frustrated groan from him makes my stomach flutter and his grip of my hair tightens as I look up. I can tell he was about to force me to continue, but now he watches me expectantly. I am going to give him the shock of a lifetime.

'Force me, my Lord,' I whisper. 'My body is yours. Do with me as you please.'

He blinks and gazes down at me. 'You have no idea what you're offering, Hermione. I won't stop and I won't be kind.'

Screw kindness, I want him to use me. I am burning up here. I don't need pity. I need someone to ravish me. I want to be out of control, like the other night… that felt magnificent.

'I know, master,' I whisper demure. 'I've lied to you, punish me.'

'You've lied to me?' he says disbelievingly, amusement darting through his eyes at my dreadful acting skills.

'When your eyes are back to normal, it means your soul is healed completely,' I blatantly state.

'You already told me as much, dear,' he responds teasingly, not acknowledging my little play here.

'I only said there was a link between the eyes and the soul. I apologise effusively for not being more forthcoming, master.'

'I see…' he slowly says and my insides make a joyous jump when his tone turns threatening. 'This is a most vile and outrageous act of you.'

I nod excitedly. I totally concur that assessment. 'Yes, my Lord. I've been such a bad girl. I need to be spanked.'

'Oh… I think I can find something a bit more fitting for your punishment, little liar,' he sneers and he pushes my head back to his cock. 'Last chance to change your mind, Granger,' he offers. 'Remember who you're offering your body's full use to. I won't stop after I start. No matter how hard you beg me or how much you would want me to.'

I growl in frustration. Bloody talkative evil overlords. How many times do I need to say it? Why can't they just get a move on? It's like in the movies. They chat, and chat, and chat some more, until all their enemies have escaped.

'Very well, I'll take it that growl means you are mine now. Continue your work, witch.'

He presses my head around his cock forcefully. I continue sucking and relieving him, while his magic swirls around me and presses my body together, holding it in place when Voldemort starts to move inside of me. Now, he is not holding back and he hits the back of my throat harshly, stroke after stroke after stroke.

'That's it, Mudblood, suck me,' Voldemort hisses with a groan. 'Service your master, witch.'

His words are turning me on tremendously and I adore how his cock feels in my mouth, it's so filling. I swirl my tongue around his hardened penis as I suck on his flesh. So good. I gag when he pumps even further down my throat and holds my head there, suffocating me.

'Your life belongs to me, witch,' he snarls, while I turn light-headed and continue to have gag reflexes.

'You will learn that every breath you are allowed to take…' and he pulls me back slightly so I can take in a couple of breaths, right before he pushes my head back into the same position and I gag again, 'is to pleasure me, Mudblood.'

The world starts to swirl around me.

'And your mouth feels so right around me. It's what it was made for, Granger.'

He pulls my head back again, so I can breathe, but he doesn't exit my mouth. I gasp around him and he yanks my hair, sending me a clear warning to do what he wants, so I start to lick him again, caressing his genitals with my hands where my mouth can not reach.

'The Daily Prophet will have an interesting obituary to place tomorrow, if you do not satisfy my needs properly,' he sneers and he thrust back down my throat, giving me that wonderful feeling of total loss of control, of being at his mercy. My light-headiness is back and it is such a sensual sensation. He withdraws slightly.

'Make me come, witch,' he orders.

So I suck him vigorously. Hearing him groan and feeling his legs twitch, while he shifts to adjust his weight, makes me even hornier and I press my lower body against his legs, because it aches severely due to all this. 'Going to hump me like the dog you are, Granger?' he hisses.

And a deep groan leaves me, because his nasty remarks are causing my blood to flow more extensively to the lower regions of my body. I can feel the spasms of his member in my mouth and a muffled moan leaves my mouth in anticipation of being able to taste him again. I close my eyes when he spills his semen inside of me and it whirls on my tongue deliciously. I practically come myself on the spot when he steps back suddenly.

A flicker of magic and he is completely covered up again. He smirks down viciously at my dishevelled appearance and a small gesture of his hand clarifies that he wants me to rise. I scramble to my feet somewhat unstable, because I'd rather he just push me on that desk he is now leaning against casually and have his wicked ways with me.

'Strip,' he commands with a small smile.

Oh no, that will take too long, just rip my clothes of me, I am burning up here. A devious twinkle darts through his eyes and he chuckles. 'If you want me to take you, Hermione, you better do precisely what I say when I say it. Now, strip,' he says and his mouth curls upward.

I start pulling of my robes when his magic halts me. 'Slowly, darling. There is no rush,' he calmly states.

'Easy for him to say, he just had some,' I think resentful, while I continue to undress more slowly.

'Tsk, tsk, tsk, manners, dear. Those are highly improper thoughts for a lady. And may I remind you that I am not here for your pleasure,' he drawls, amused, placing his arms behind his head.

I have my robe halfway over my head when I notice him more thoroughly. Wow, Merlin, fuck, he really is hot, the way he just sits there in that casual posture with his black robes falling elegantly around his desirable frame. His slender hands with those experienced fingers, which are, I might add, completely wasting their time by supporting his wavy jet-black haired head when they could in fact be touching me. I really want to jump that delectable body of his and snog him senseless. I toss my robe to the side and take a step in his direction, but he shakes his head teasingly.

'I did not allow you to approach me, Hermione, continue where you stand.'

When I am finally done undressing, I feel incredibly vulnerable as his eyes are raking over my naked figure meticulously with that blank expression of his. Naturally, he is taking his time. Aroused by this display of control over me, I am literally bouncing on my feet. I think I am going to explode soon. Yeah, definitely.

He smirks. 'A bit eager are we?' he inquires in a false sweet tone of voice.

Oh damn.

He sticks out his right leg. 'Why don't you show my leg how much you love me … little canine,' he says wickedly.

It is not a question, but an order and I merely glare at him. You've got to be kidding me. I am dripping with desire here and he wants me to hump his leg? But his dark eyes dart between his leg and me, signalling me to get a move on or else… Slowly, I approach him and kneel down cautiously before him. His hand pats my head.

'Yessss, that is a good doggy,' he hisses patronising when I take a hold of his leg and start moving.

My cheeks are a deep shade of crimson from the humiliation as I dry hump his leg, while his hand remains on my head, patting me like I am some domestic animal. But somewhere inside of me, I draw great satisfaction and enjoyment out of his condescending treatment of me. It arouses me again and I am definitely leaving stains on his immaculate black pants. I close my eyes and my head tilts backward as I press my pelvis against his leg, rubbing myself to completion, while he has excellent view of my bouncing breasts.

'Yes, that's it, my pet,' Voldemort says, moaning satisfied about my performance.

His fingers are massaging the back of my neck in a tantalising manner when I start to shake as I am nearing my orgasm. 'Oh no, you don't,' he breathes cruelly.

I yelp when Lord Voldemort, abruptly, yanks me by my hair to my feet, not allowing me to achieve my release. And I groan in utter disappointment. I am so fucking horny I could hump the Giant Squid for all I care at the moment. Though what I am looking at right now is far more attractive than said animal. Only his face does not forebode pleasure. It has a savage expression that makes my stomach cringe in fear. He swirls toward me and his other hand comes to rest around my neck, squeezing it roughly as he lifts me up from the ground a little bit, making me balance on my toes, so he won't choke me entirely.

'Did I tell you that you could climax against me, servant?' he hisses.

I wince at the tone and I shake my head fervently. 'I am sorry, master,' I reply somewhat squeaky due to his hold on my windpipe.

'You're sorry,' he sneers. 'Well, sorry doesn't cut it, Granger. I'll show you sorry.'

And he drags me off by my hair brutally, all the while sneering at me how sorry I am going to be before he is done 'explaining' extensively what my true position and standing is here. Merciless, he throws me over the back of the couch in the study. I plummet down, shrieking in pain, because he is still holding on to my hair that is wrapped firmly in his fist now.

'Stop your whining, witch. You wanted me, you got me,' he snaps into my ear, making my skin crawl.

Lord Voldemort pulls me upward against the armrest by my hair, causing several tears to spring from my eyes unwanted, as he forces my body into a semi lying position. He is standing behind me when his free hand waves across the air above my upper body. I feel his magic entering me right before he casts some spell. I gasp, before my minds whirls into an almost intoxicated state. The entire room disappears and all I see in focus is him.

'Spread your legs,' he orders.

I comply immediately. Finally, we are getting somewhere, because something definitely needs to be done about the ache I am experiencing and I am not talking about him almost yanking all my hair out. So I spread my legs as far as this couch will allow me, but that is not satisfying him. 'Further,' he barks.

I place one leg over the couch's back, while the other comes to rest on the floor. Suddenly, chains are forming themselves around my ankles and across my thighs. A wave of Voldemort's wand and it feels like he is trying to pull my legs out of my hip-joints so wide he is spreading them. Other shackles wrap themselves around my shoulders and chest, pulling me firmly apart and into the couch. This must be one of the weirdest postures I've ever been in and I wonder what Voldemort has planned, because I can't move an inch in this semi sitting, semi laying position. Well, I can move my head and arms a bit, since he didn't bond my wrists for some reason. I recognise the wand-movements of the Summoning Charm, while he moves around and looks down at me with delight. He sits down beside me and smiles at me.

'You look nice when your naked body is all tied up and at my disposal,' he says smoothly. His hand is tracing the contours of my body, pinching my nipples, going further down between my folds. 'So wet you are for me,' he concludes rightfully, stroking my clit.

Now, I wish I could move, because I have this instinctive response to buck against his caress, which I can't. My hands reach out to touch him. 'Hands above your head,' he snaps, when he sees what I am planning. Like a reflex so fast, I respond to his order and my hands come to rest on top of my head. 'Move them again and they will be bound as well,' Voldemort says warningly.

He continues his manipulation between my legs, all the while smiling at me in a rather strange, anticipatory manner. I moan when his finger enters me and he moves it around against my walls ruthlessly. Oh fuck… this is bliss and yet it leaves me wanting more… wanting him… Damn, I need something a bit more filling now. He pinches my clit with his thumb, making me scream out loud and grab onto my hair with my own fingers, almost pulling them out by their roots, but I don't even realise it, because my god… this feels so good. I let out a deep groan and tilt my head backward. It's all the movement he is allowing me and it is antagonising.

'So responsive,' Voldemort breathes on my skin, 'so very receptive to my every move.'

I gasp when he sucks my nipples one at the time. 'So beautifully submissive and yet…' he halts with a malevolent smile, '…so very stubborn and disobedient. We need to fix that rebellious part of your character, my dear. You need to be thought a lesson into true servitude.'

His tongue trails to my navel and he dips into it, making me shiver as my belly sends all kinds of signals to the rest of my body. I feel like I am on fire. I can't take much more of this. How long is he going to keep teasing me like this?

'You want to learn, don't you Hermione?'

'Yes, my Lord,' I reply fast.

Another pinch of my clit makes me scream again. 'You want me to teach you how to behave properly, don't you?'

'Oh yes, teach me, master,' I moan. 'And quickly please, because I am dying here,' I think.

'You want me to take you, don't you? Ravish you with my cock. Plunge inside of you and rip you apart, until you scream for mercy,' he suggests.

Yes, those ideas will do nicely. All of them.

'You want me to fill you up and ram into you, until you can only walk with a gap-legged step from hereon,' he continues smoothly, kissing my throat.

Oh for crying out loud, a little more action and a little less talking would be highly appreciated here! I am already lying here, naked, with my legs spread. How much more access does he need?

'Well, your punishment will be that you aren't getting any of it, darling,' he whispers against my throat.

'What?' I roar desperately.

A vial flies into his hand and he looks at me happily. 'You heard me,' he whispers evilly against my lips. 'Open wide.'

He presses the Potions' bottle against my lips and I glare at it anxiously.

'Do as you are told, slave,' he snarls harshly. 'You placed yourself at my disposal, so obey your master.'

And I drink the potion. I recognise the smell and the distinct flavour from Culthrop's descriptions. He is feeding me a very potent Lust Potion. Oh Merlin, I am already climbing up the walls without it. When the last drop has entered my mouth, he kisses me, demanding access and I oblige willingly. I do love the way he kisses, it's delicious. His hand touches me between my folds again and his fingers manipulate themselves inside of me. I moan into his mouth. Oh yes, right there… Suddenly, I feel like I am about to explode and Voldemort withdraws from me completely and rises from the couch. He is watching me meticulously as the Lust Potion has made it to my bloodstream and is now affecting every inch of my body.

I close my eyes at the overwhelming sensation when something presses into my stomach. It's a bloody book! Well, it explains why he left my wrists untied, but really...

'You will read this and I will be back to question you,' he states simply.

'Are you crazy?' I bellow. 'I can't read let alone concentrate like this.'

But he ignores my outburst and continues. 'I need an answer to why my skin hasn't aged and I think you can help me here, because I really can't be bothered to research such a small issue myself. I used the Transfiguration method on page forty-four with some minor alterations.'

He starts to walk away. 'Eh!' I shout. 'What alterations?'

'You'll figure it out,' he says deviously as he faces me again. 'Failure to answer my questions will result in the continuation of your predicament. You better solve it fast, Hermione, if you want a climax anytime soon today.'

And he leaves the study laughing loudly, while I am lying here in this ridiculous pose, burning with desire that is increasing by the second. Oh, he is definitely evil and this … this has to be his vilest act yet. Yeah, even more so than all the killings, Crucios and other Dark Arts' acts he engaged in, because even though my hands are free, I won't even be able to relieve myself, because he personalised the Lust Potion when he fondled and kissed me during its activation. I feel my heart racing and the throbbing inside of my pelvic region is becoming more agonising with every ragged breath I take. I better start reading, before I lose the ability to. What page was his stupid Transfiguration on again? Oh great… my brain is already impaired. Something forty. Lust is making me twitch as I flip the leaves and I lick my swollen lips with my tongue subconsciously.

I start reading at page forty, but it is hard with the distraction as my body grows more and more aroused. However, when I hit page forty-four, I just know this would have been his choice of Transfiguration considering the dark nature of said method and the promise of a 'scary' appearance. I roll my eyes at this when the next sensation hits. A tingling sensation flows across my skin, making me crave contact and I drop the book in my lap forgetting I can't satisfy my need. But when I touch myself that omission of my mind is quickly reaffirmed, because it is not helping me out here. I close my eyes, toss my head backwards and groan in despair. I want to be able to move my body. I want him to touch me. I want him inside of me. I need to read that damn book, but I can't. But I have to. Oh no, I can't.

'Oooohhh,' I moan when the muscles of my belly tighten and my walls clench … at nothing. The sheer emptiness is making me scream. My heart is pounding inside my chest painfully. The fast pulsation of my veins thrusts the Lust Potion past every organ, every cell of my body, over and over again. It makes me quiver in wantonness. My hands slam into the couch frustrated, I trash against the bonds he placed on my body, and my head sways sideways in some feeble attempt to release some of the physical energy I have, which is building up too. I need to find answers or I'll stay like this till I have a heart attack. Oh fuck, I am burning up. Unsteadily, I launch my hand at the book, pick it up when… I have this sudden need to suck on something and I drop the book, stick my fingers in my mouth, but it isn't helping. I need to read, so I can undo this predicament I am in.

I look down and to my utter frustration I've dropped the book to the floor. So much for reading. I am so fucking screwed now. And I just lie there in wait for his arrival as I become aroused beyond my wildest dreams. It feels like my head is going to explode along with my genitals. My heart feels like it wants to exit my body through my ribcage and sweat is dripping all over my skin. My logical brain shuts down as my body goes into overdrive. And I sincerely doubt I could have figured out anything for him in this condition anyway.

The bastard must have known this in advance when he ordered me to read the book. It isn't the only thing about him that is aggravating me, because the blasted halfblood also takes his time in returning back to the study. I can't stress out enough how much I hate his hypocritical arse, because Mr High-and-Mighty doesn't come back into the study until AN WHOLE HOUR has passed! And then, he strolls towards me, tauntingly slow. He does get off on tormenting me. This proofs it. His dark eyes light up when Lord Voldemort takes in my desperate condition meticulously and an utterly pleased expression forms on his face when he sees the book on the ground.

'What's the matter, Mudblood? Can't your kind multitask?' he sneers condescendingly. I can tell by his entire attitude he has been expecting this outcome and is thoroughly delighted with my complete and utter humiliation. Though, he isn't done yet.

'Please,' I beg and I reach out for him, but he has made certain to be just out of my arm's range.

'Please?' he repeats mocking. 'Such an extensive vocabulary you have there ... Did those muggles forget to put you through kindergarten?'

'Help me,' I add, not caring about anything else except getting some. From him. Now.

'Where are your manners, witch? Address me properly or suffer the consequences,' and he turns on his heels.

'No! Don't leave me, master, my Lord, my everything,' I panic and he halts on the spot. 'I can't take anymore. Please, please…'

Smirking, he swoops towards me and sits down beside me in a blink of an eye. Instinctively, I try to pull him against me, but a lazy wave of his hand yanks my hands above my head roughly and I lie there, completely bound, incapacitated, helpless and at his mercy. Something he isn't famous for of having … at all. I hold my breath when he leans towards me. It's in vain, because he halts inches away from me, teasing me with his proximity without relieving me an ounce.

'So I am your everything,' he repeats, amused.

If it would have been possible, my head would have turned even redder, but I already reached the limits of that colour ages ago. However, Voldemort lets out a short laugh at my feelings of embarrassment and he winks at me. He actually has the nerve to wink at me. I growl.

'Would you want me to do everything to you, Hermione?' he breathes on my skin, making me writhe at the sensation as he blows his breath all the way down over my body.

'Yes,' I breathe back. 'My Lord,' I add quickly, seeing the malevolent flash in his eyes.

'I kind of liked you calling me your everything, little one,' he says in a low tone of voice, and at last… he touches me and strokes the side of my body with his right hand. It makes me want him so much I could burst.

'It sort of implies that you would do everything for me as well, wouldn't you agree?' he adds.

'Sure whatever, just don't stop touching me,' I think, quivering extremely as his hands are caressing my breasts. He kisses my throat, causing all sorts of exquisitely electrical sensations to flow to my brain. My eyes flutter shut and I moan from the bottom of my heart.

'I'll satisfy you, Hermione,' he whispers against my ear, tempting me thoroughly with the tickling feeling it is leaving behind. 'All you have to do is surrender your mind to me,' he adds smoothly, like he is asking for something as meaningless and simple as the daily paper.

However, there seems to click something in that one brain cell of me that is still capable of functioning properly, because I am not falling into his trap. I scowl. Abruptly, I turn my head to face him furiously and he quirks an eyebrow.

'Hmmm… still stubborn and disobedient, aren't you?' he snickers. 'I'll have to correct that attitude of yours.'

Swiftly, he moves his mouth to my breast and I trash and scream as he licks and sucks on my nipple, causing my lower body to buck toward him despite of the firm restraints on my limbs. Deviously, he looks upward. 'Changed your mind yet?'

'Fuck!'

'Not the correct answer,' he grins.

And my other breast receives the same treatment, making me think that all those other brain cells of mine maybe right and that the one who thinks it is not a good idea to give into him on this matter is clearly in the minority for a reason. It must be a faulty cell. He hits me with his magic as well. Oh yes, definitely a malfunctioning brain cell. It needs to shut up now.

Another wave of magic, his robes disappears and he moves on top of me, taking my head in his hands while leaning against the armrest with his elbows. I can feel his arousal against the inside of my thigh and I make a futile attempt to arch toward him. Two black eyes are watching me intensely. Oh, what is keeping him? I need him. I want him. Screw common sense and sensibility. He tilts my head slightly and gives me the gentlest kiss I ever had. It's enrapturing and it entrances me fully. When he leaves my mouth all I can do is stare unto those eyes of his, those captivating, alluring eyes of his.

'Don't worry, Hermione, I will have all of you in the end,' he whispers against my lips seductively. 'However, you can't surrender a malfunctioning, potions-filled mind to me, so I guess I'll just have to settle for marking your body as mine. But one day, soon, you will surrender fully, my darling, your eyes assure me of that.'

On that note, he thrusts inside of me, pushing me into a state of utter bliss. The chains that restrain me loosen up slightly, so I can move towards him as he wishes me to, as he forces me to. It's making the impact of his strokes even more sensitising, so I scream and yell, especially when he starts changing his angles with every stroke, hitting my cervix at every viable spot. It feels extremely overwhelming and I can't possibly take anymore. I am exhausted. I am drained of all my strength. I am going to die. My muscles cramp, I shudder violently and scream his name as my climax hits me when he plunges deep into me for the final time. I feel my walls clench around him, dragging him in even further. A sudden warmness fills my belly as his semen is released into me and we both come to completion.

He falls down beside me and is breathing as raggedly as I am. Well, he pretty much did all the work. However, that is his own doing for he is the one who chained me up. His hand falls on my cheek and he turns my face toward him. His mouth captures mine and as we kiss I can feel my lips swell and my genitals starting to throb once more. Oh no, I am getting all needy for him again. Come on, surely the effects of that potion have to die out some time? With a wave of his hand, my bonds disappear and he spins me on top of him not disconnecting his contact with my mouth. He magically traces the insides of my thighs over and over again, until I am once again desperate for a release, but he lazily leans backwards in the couch with his hands folded behind his head, stopping his enchantment of my body. I groan in disappointment and he laughs.

'Your turn, witch,' he smoothly says.

No need to tell me that. And I find a new physical strength in his every moan, groan, sigh and gasp at my manipulation of his body. Pleasuring him certainly has an effect on me too. It makes my body all tingly and sensitive. When I have his cock erect again, I sit up on my knees and I slam down into him, using gravity as my accomplice, so he penetrates me to the hilt.

'Circe, Granger, I should attach you to me like that permanently,' Voldemort utters with a gasp.

And his gaze turns quite intense when I keep this position for a moment, knowing how much he enjoys savouring the feel of his cock inside of me, before I start moving up and down on him. He is not interfering with what I do. He is basically sitting this one out. His eyes are raking over my body appreciatively as I move before him in plain view. My breasts are bouncing, while my hands massage his upper body, neck and the back of his head, making him very, very happy, if his expression is anything to go on. And considering it usually is quite blank and emotionless I take it as a yes.

I begin to shudder and my movements become impaired when I near my orgasm. I am having trouble with the pace, and suddenly, his arms are around me, helping me to continue while we stare into each other's eyes heatedly. I have my arms around his neck when I come around him and push him over the edge too. It's the first time we climax silently and I crash into his body when we're done. Not having the strength to exit his now softening member. His arms are around my back, until I hear him catch something in his hand.

'Drink,' he orders, pouring another potion into me without warning or consideration.

It's an antidote to the Lust Potion he has given me. I recognise the flavour of the components on my tongue before I ingest it all, because after being thoroughly ravished, used and taken advantage off, I already feel deliciously satisfied and I am definitely not able to do another round now. This is so much better than the way he left me hanging this morning. And I smirk at the man who has moved me to the side and is flashing his wand around to clean us up from our activities.

I can tell I have to hurry with my reading, because this Amulet is about to return to its makers if his eyes are any indication. They are completely dark now. I can't see a single red gleam in them anywhere. Maybe I misjudged it earlier on. Lord Voldemort leans forward and takes the Amulet that is hanging around my neck in his hand. The stone is still glowing, but only just. I don't understand why and I think he is wondering the same thing. His eyes clearly show his soul is whole again. The Amulet should be dead now, unresponsive.

However, the fact that it is still glowing is saving my skin, because he leans back again, sighing impatiently. Briefly, I notice a red gleam in his eyes. I almost am relieved by it, because it means his soul is still not whole, but I know it's getting close. This won't be a matter of days anymore, but hours. I am never going to finish his library on time. I have to pick the right volumes to read today. I am really annoyed I wasted my time with that Elfin book. I could have used the time to read something else. I should have read something else.

'I am going to need you to accompany me at four o'clock,' Voldemort drawls.

'Where to?' I ask, surprised and somewhat concerned.

'You'll see,' he says smirking, before leaving the study in a very happy mood.

The door is closing so slowly behind him that I can hear him step through the painting. Did he just forget to alter his appearance back to Mr Snakey? Oh dear…

'My Lord,' Eveline Mulciber blurts out unwise in the distance. 'What happened to your face?'

Ten little Death Eaters were merry and fine. One saw the Emperor's true exterior and that made nine. A dash of green affirms my little rhyme. The heavy thud of a falling body muffles the clock's chime.

I snicker at my own pun. Well, he has taken out a lot of his followers lately. Eveline Mulciber is just one other in the line of hopefully many more to come. Eh, lesser Death Eaters seems like progress to me. And I think him killing his followers is becoming quite the theme song. I can't resist the temptation to…

Nine little Death Eaters are somewhat overweight.

One tried to lose some, gave me His file and that made eight.

Eight little Death Eaters thought they were in heaven

One failed to follow His directives and that made seven

Seven little Death Eaters went for the easy fix

One fell for His 'kissing a Mudblood' act and that made six

Six little Death Eaters felt trapped in His hive

One escaped by cooking His snake and that made five

Five little Death Eaters were feeling rather sour

One crucio-ed his master by mistake and that made four

Four little Death Eaters cast unconscious are thee

One caught pneumonia on the cold wet ground and that made three

Three little Death Eaters shocked from hearing boo

One got punished for his father's errors and that made two

Two little Death Eaters sharing their friendship's fun

One was master to the dark lord's wand and that made one

One little Death Eater in all his pale, blond glory

Will never die

I do not lie

His posh cane lives on in victory.

Snickering in delight over my rather lame lyrics, I stroll past the shelves to choose a book I won't be able to read once this Amulet is gone. I see one with a distinctly dangerous title and decide it will do nicely. It does… It is actually quite interesting. Though I am glad I am protected by this Amulet, because this weird book made some unusual attempts to influence me to the dark side. I lean back in the couch and stretch out my body when I am done with it.

The clock in the study strikes three and I eat another sandwich and I drink some more juice. In one hour Voldemort wants me to accompany him to something, so I really don't feel like starting in something new and not being able to finish it. I look at The Art of Potions, which is lying on the table. I can read another chapter of that book. After all, they are pretty solitary chapters and can be read separately from one another. I open it at a random page. Faith decides I need to read 'Amortentia and the creation of pure evil'. Well, that is an original approach to describe the effects of a Love Potion. So I start reading and reading.

The true origin of Amortentia is official unknown, but many contribute its existence to the dark sorceress Morgan Le Fay.

'Sure,' I think, irritated. 'Because any woman in the past who had a bit of brains and power had to be an evil witch.'

I finish the chapter in one straight run and when I am done all I can do is: stare at the book. Bloody hell. My hands are trembling slightly when I look at the chapter's summary and read it over again, hoping I misread it or maybe I just didn't understand it correctly. Yeah, that is it. I'll just reread the summary and conclusion. I didn't get it right the first time around.

Morgan Le Fay is the unofficial inventor of Amortentia. The reason for these assumptions are multitude and it is my thorough understanding that Le Fay's genius in Potion Making as well as her thorough understanding of the human condition lays at the basis of Amortentia. Many claim that Le Fay botched up this potion of love. Many say Le Fay failed to create love between individuals, since love can not be imitated or manufactured and Amortentia only invokes a very powerful obsession to another person. However, it is my wholehearted believe that Morgan Le Fay succeeded immensely at the task she set for herself when she invented Amortentia. For I believe Le Fay never meant to create love, she meant to create evil at its purest form.

For this to be understood one needs to take into consideration what it is that Amortentia does. Amortentia creates a form of obsessive behaviour in a person that renders them completely inapt to anything else beside the potion giver. Obsessive 'love' is one of the most dangerous conditions out there and because of this fact many governments sanction the use of Amortentia. But they fail to see the real risk of this potion, which is without a doubt the most dangerous and powerful potion known to mankind.

Amortentia works only if both the victim and the potion giver drink it. The victim takes ten times the dose of the assailant, but both individuals become influenced by the qualities of this potion. For a love potion alone, this seems like an unnecessary addition. Why would Le Fay have need for both parties to be under its influence if the goal was to make someone fall in love with you? However, if the goal was to create evil, then both parties need to be involved.

As I established before, Amortentia does not create love. On the contrary, this potion creates the absence of love. All my experiments have been conclusive to this. Amortentia use over longer than a fortnight brings on a state between the two individuals that can be called completely loveless. Both parties remain involved with each other and continue to be together, but they care for no one and nothing. All they want to do is to be together obsessively. During this loveless, obsessive state the subjects under influence of the potion become incredibly sexual active, until a state of pregnancy is achieved, after which the potion's influence suddenly seems to wear off and the subjects under its influence slowly return to their normal self.

It is my firm believe that this is Amortentia's true purpose: to achieve conception under truly loveless, emotionless conditions. And by doing so Morgan Le Fay achieved the unthinkable… the creation of a child that will not know love… the creation of pure and unsanctioned evil. A spawn of the devil or the rebirth of the devil in whatever which way you want to look at the issue. It is for this reason that I strongly recommend a complete global ban on Amortentia use.

Even though the changes of an actual birth of this devil is relatively slim, due to high rate of spontaneous miscarriages that seem to accompany the potion's use, it takes only one born baby to create a problem unlike any of us has ever seen. With the absence of love a void is created that will be filled with darkness no soul should be allowed or forced to carry. This concentration of darkness will render the child in question to become more powerful than any wizard or witch known to history. He or she will be unstoppable, because there is no cure, no remedy to this state of loveless being. The birth of such a child must be prevented at all costs, because once it is born... God have mercy on our souls.

A memory from my sixth year at Hogwarts keeps swirling in front of my eyes as I read Abigail Culthrop's devastating conclusion.

'Merope Gaunt probably used a love potion to make Tom Riddle her husband,' Harry explained to Hermione and Ron. 'Because a while later he returned to his home saying he'd been hoodwinked and taken in. The villagers thought Merope had told him she was pregnant and had lied.'

'But she did have his baby,' Hermione said, making Harry smile for some unknown reason.

'Yes, but Dumbledore said Voldemort wasn't born until a year later,' Harry replied.

'So the ugly toad used a Love Potion to get laid,' Ron snorted.

'Ron!' Hermione said admonishingly.

Everything adds up now. Lord Voldemort had been conceived under the influence of Amortentia. I stare at the chapter title and the conclusion again. Shit-fire-mother-fucking-damn. We are all so screwed now.

It's when the spawn of evil, or the devil reincarnated, enters the room and I wonder if he knows. I am certain he's read Culthrop's book, but I have some doubts as to whether he realises the chapter on Amortentia is referring to him. I try to remember everything Harry told me about Tom Riddle's conversation with Morfin Gaunt, but I am pretty certain Morfin only said that Merope ran off with the muggle who lived at the manor and that said muggle came back later without her. Somehow I doubt Voldemort took the time to chat with his father before killing him.

I really wish I had seen those memories in the Pensieve myself. I wish I knew exactly what transpired that day, because it would give me some indication on how to handle this newfound information. If Voldemort knows… He better not know. Mr Prophecy-Follower is far too superstitious. It will only affirm him more to his rotten path. It will erase any shred of doubt he probably… doesn't have anyway. I growl. Fortunately, he thinks it is about his secret plans.

'Are you coming, my dear?' he says with a smirk.

I place the book on the coffee table and rise from the couch. So it is four o'clock. Great, what kind of fun am I looking forward to now?

However, he is not telling and I take his outstretched hand as he guides me to go ahead of him. Several emotions are whirling inside of me, while we walk through the corridors of Hogwarts towards what used to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts' classroom. I am worried, fearful, and somewhat sad, because, strangely enough, I feel pity towards the man behind me. I always thought he was a maniac who chose this path out of his own volition, due to the combination of the harsh circumstances of his childhood, the genetic disability of carrying the violent Gaunt genes, and his extreme intelligence and magical prowess. Only now it seems there is far more to it than just those circumstances alone. It seems like the decision was made for him, before he was even born. Somehow I can't help but feel sorry for him. However, the fact there is nothing that can be done about it disturbs me even more, because it would mean that he is unbeatable. That I can't win this. And I have to win this.

We enter the empty classroom and I don't like the fact that we are here at all. Whatever it is he is planning, if it involves children, than I'd rather not be here. A bang on my right draws my attention to a suddenly wobbling, wooden wardrobe and I frown in confusion. A Boggart? He brought me here to witness some lesson about Boggarts? I stiffen up when his hands come to rest on my shoulders and I feel his breath next to my ear.

'Think your Boggart will still be the same, Hermione?' he whispers softly and he kisses my neck.

I don't respond. What is the point of this?

'I think it still will be your parents in my captivity, don't you agree, my dear?'

I swallow the huge lump that has formed in my throat and my mouth turns rather dry.

'Tell me, how would you make such a visual funny? Isn't that how you learnt to eradicate a Boggart, by that silly Riddikulus Spell and laughter?' he says quietly, while prowling around me.

And I am beginning to understand why I am here, because I know he has another way of extinguishing a Boggart. I read it in his file, and his way, no doubt, has its origin in the Dark Arts. He is going to try to force me to use Dark Magic. I close my eyes in fear. I can't give into him no matter what I am about to see. I just have to keep telling myself it isn't real.

'Do you think you can laugh at the sight of your parents while they scream in pain, before they die over and over again?' Voldemort asks, touching my face so I will open my eyes and look at him. 'How would you vanquish such a Boggart without the use of the Dark Arts, my dear?'

'I won't vanquish it,' I admit hoarsely, because I can't think of any manner to make my parents' torture and death funny, and I won't use his method.

'We'll see…' he says slowly. 'After the seventh years are done with facing it, it will be your turn. Let's sit down in the back and watch the lesson, shall we?'

I look up surprised. After the seventh years are done with it? Surely, Boggarts are part of the third year curriculum. Voldemort seems to notice my confusion and he smiles.

'Not anymore,' he tells me, having guessed why I am befuddled. 'I had it changed, because I think it is quite handy to learn the fears of those out there. The teacher will document it in everyone's file, just in case I need it in the future.'

'Surely, seventh years will be able to get rid of a Boggart, even if it isn't part of the curriculum anymore? It's in loads of textbooks. If they are quick, you'll never be able to tell what their fears are before the Boggart changes,' I reply, remembering Parvati thought Professor Lupin was scared of crystal balls, because he was so quick in changing the displayed visual that we never were able to identify it as the full moon.

'This Boggart will be protected against anyone who is foolish enough to cast the Riddikulus,' Voldemort responds, dragging me with him to the back of the classroom. 'And as you know I do not share my methods around with everybody.'

'Then why have we come here already?' I hiss, not at all looking forward to witnessing this.

'Because you need to learn how delicious fear smells, my little one,' he retorts, while sitting down in the chair in the corner and pulling me on his lap.

'You're nuts.'

'I've heard that assessment before,' Voldemort says snickering.

Two charms make us invisible and unable to be heard by others. Just in time, because the other classes have ended and students begin to pour in. It turns out to be even worse than I imagined beforehand. Several students break down at watching their worst fear and even though some of those fears are quite laughable I feel nothing but sadness at their distress. I can tell by the tight way Voldemort is holding me around my waist that this is not what he was hoping for. He is not happy for some reason. I don't know what he thought I would feel, but even though I am glad it isn't what he would have liked, all I really want is for this dreadful ordeal to be over, because it brings back some haunting memories.

The last student exits the classroom crying and shaking, when suddenly a little boy enters unexpectedly. He is so tiny that he must be a first year and he holds out a small piece of paper to Alphonse Mulciber when the Boggart turns its attention to him. A whip-crack noise fills the room as the Boggart alters form and to my utter surprise it turns into the familiar sight of a Dementor; Harry's Boggart. The Dementor swirls forward, the boy screams, and I am on my feet with Voldemort's wand. I have to protect Harry. I have to.

'Expecto Patronus,' I cast, remembering the Riddikilus Spell won't work on this particular Boggart.

It isn't until later that I realise Voldemort must have been curious about what I was going to do when he allowed me to nick his wand and cast the spell. But right in that moment all I can think about is that Harry is in danger and I need to do something. So I do what I know Professor Lupin taught Harry to do, I cast the Patronus Charm. It takes me some effort to dig into a happy memory under these circumstances, but I manage and a silvery substance leaves my wand and charges at the Boggart-Dementor. My Patronus evaporates the Boggart completely before slithering through the classroom happy about a job well done. I just stare at it, unable to move or utter a sound, while I feel Voldemort's hand on mine as he removes the wand from my hand. That animal did not come from my wand, it couldn't have. I am not even relieved that my Patronus thwarted Voldemort's plans for me by obliterating the Boggart. I am appalled and I continue to stare at the unexpected form of my corporeal Patronus that is now hissing happily at the man behind me. Voldemort's delight at my Patronus is radiating of him thoroughly as his arms wrap around my waist.

'Mulciber,' he says, nodding courteous to the man, and he spins on the spot to Apparate us back to his quarters.

That night I am unable to fall asleep. Images of that blasted Patronus keep dancing in front of my eyes. I have never seen a more pleased and smug expression on Lord Voldemort's face than after he saw it. He sees it as my defeat, no doubt. That's why he is able to sleep and I am not. Still, I am not uncomfortable in this bed. I am lying somewhat on my left side and my head is resting on his chest. Lord Voldemort has wrapped his arms around me tightly and his left leg is placed possessively over both of mine. After that stupid Patronus, he turned even more controlling and domineering over me and although he is fast asleep right now, he is not letting go an inch. Even his magic swirls around me. It leaves a tremendously oppressive feel behind in my body, and yet, strangely, I have never felt so safe and secure in my life. No one will ever touch or harm me when he is around. I wish he would hold me like this forever.

My eyes widen when I realise what I just thought. But I can't deny it any longer. It will be foolish and counterproductive if I do. I will only be kidding myself. That Patronus said it all. They don't just change on a whim. Only a severe emotional upheaval causes them to alter form. And I am pretty sure mine was never a snake before. How did this happen? The man ruined my life. My entire childhood has been based on defeating him. He killed and tortured my friends, lost me my parents, and he tortured and hurt me severely in the last months. Hell, he almost got me killed a couple of times. I am his prisoner. I can't have him as a Patronus. It makes no sense whatsoever. I am loosing it. I am obviously going mental.

So what if he saved me from the addictive book. He is the reason I had it in the first place. And the reason I couldn't spot on my own, the book was a threat. And it is like this with all those other times when he did something that could remotely be considered kind. It was all self-serving. So why do I care? Why do I lo…?

I whimper.

Oh no. I can't… This can't be happening to me. It just can't. I can't love someone who is incapable of experiencing that emotion himself. Suddenly, I feel like I am unable to breath. I am going to suffocate. And I panic. I try to scream, but no air means no sound too. I try to get out from his grasp. I need some air. NOW!

I struggle to get away, but his arm moves and his hand comes to rest on my shoulder, holding me even tighter than before when his thumb caresses my neckline. Magic washes over me and I calm down considerably. After I have regained my breathing I look up, expecting him to have woken up, but he hasn't. He still is very much asleep. It was an instinctive response. Probably due to our magical connection. I study his face. He truly is a handsome man. Would that be it? Am I that shallow? Or would it just be an indication how much I've changed in the past months? I know my eyes are turning darker. I know it means that my soul is darkening. I've not wanted to see it for a long time. I've been sticking my head in the sand. But I can't ignore it anymore. I love him. Oh dear Merlin, I am doomed, done for, lost forever.

'What the hell am I going to do now?' I say desperate, and rather foolishly, out loud.

'How about this,' a familiar voice says and a kiss lands on my lips.

He rolls me on my back and I feel his weight on top of me, while he devours my mouth fully. I can't do this. But our nightwear is gone the next second and without warning he enters me forcefully. I am so not ready, but he hits my G-spot in one single blow. So I scream in a mixture of pain and delight as he rocks inside of me, exiting me fully before forcing his entry harshly over and over again. I don't want this, I don't.

However, his magic swirls around me, teasing my body into overdrive, while he fills me up, striking my sensitive areas in an almost vindictive manner. Showing me who I belong to, who it is that owns my body. I can feel my muscles starting to clamp around him, drawing him in even further, and my orgasm is nearing fast. No, no, no, I can't deal with this. He doesn't feel properly like others do. My body is beginning to shake and tremble with anticipation of the oncoming exhilarating feeling, but I can't be with him. He is Lord Voldemort even if he may not look the part at the moment. So I try to push him away, despite the fact that my body tells me to continue this delicious expedition. He breaks the kiss and halts his movements inside of me, pressing his pelvis against me like he is trying to crush my body, when he realises I am responding differently. My body loves the way he fills me up thoroughly and pins me down beneath him, but I can't do this, not now. Voldemort looks at me with an arched eyebrow.

'Please stop,' I whisper hoarsely.

I stop looking at the handsome man above me and I turn my head to the side, so I can pretend I am not here. This isn't happening. It just isn't. I can't do this anymore, I can't. I can't be here. His dark eyes must be staring down at me, because it feels like someone is trying to burn a hole in my head, while he continues to force his presence inside of me. I can feel my hips wanting to jerk, wanting to continue our activity, but my mind thinks otherwise. Oh Merlin, my eyes are beginning to water. A hand cups my cheek gently and he turns my head to face him. I avert my eyes and I do not meet his penetrating gaze. I can't, not now. My lips are beginning to quiver and I close my eyes when I can no longer stop the tears from falling. God, I hate myself. What am I doing here? What am I becoming? Despite my closed eyes, I can feel the severity of Voldemort's gaze upon me and his hand caresses my cheek softly, before he exits me and rolls to the side to move his body of me without a single comment to my utter surprise. It feels so empty when he is no longer there, and now, I also feel physical agony on top of my mental one.

However, he may have stopped at my request, but his arm remains possessively around my waist, making me feel like I am stuck, like I can't breathe. I need to be upright to get some air into my lungs and I fling myself in a seated position. It's not helping, because that damn arm is still there. He is still here. Because even though he is awfully quiet, his presence is sipping through every ounce of my being and it is overwhelming. Why am I still here? Why am I doing this to myself? Freaking out completely, I jump from the bed … away from his grasp, his hold. I grab my robe and race out of the bedroom, feeling his eyes burn into my back before the door closes. Quickly, I pull the robe over my head and I do what I should have done ages ago, I drain every ounce of magic I can find, until I have enough to Apparate out of here. I have no idea where I am going, but any place is better than here.

I land somewhere in the UK and immediately Apparate away abroad. I repeat this procedure many times, until I am too dizzy from spinning around. I end up in my flat at Vilnius, Lithuania. I have used it before when I travelled the world searching for the Amulet and I am glad it is still intact and every ward I set before is still in place. Obviously, no one has tried entering it, otherwise this hideout would not be here anymore and I crash to the couch crying relentlessly. Glad, I've finally put some physical distance between that tyrant and myself. It's when I realise my robe smells of him. I smell of him.

And I swirl of the couch into the bathroom. I toss my clothes in the bin and turn on the tab of the shower. Scrubbing my body vigorously to remove any trace of Voldemort's odour, I stand underneath the shower wishing that I could remove his influence on me just as easily as his scent. When my skin is raw and red from my extensive attempt of cleansing myself free of him, I sink to the shower's floor as the water keeps pouring down on me. Unable to move anymore I just sit there, gazing into thin air. Knowing I am going to lose this battle.

A distinct crack sounds inside the bathroom, but somehow that doesn't register with me, until the water stops and a familiar hand falls on my arm. Oh Merlin no, please no. Don't let him be here already. I need some space. I can't breathe. So I scream. Two arms take a hold of me as the unearthly sound of my scream reaches my ears. That can't be me, can it? I can't possibly sound that desperate, can I? My body is shaking relentlessly when Lord Voldemort pulls me against him. He is not speaking while he holds me to his chest. His arm is around my waist again, while his other is on my head, holding it tightly against him. He is forcing his presence on me to show me I can't escape him. And I start to cry; loudly. I know he hates the sound, but I can't control myself anymore. I just can't. Let him kill me for it, I'd welcome the end of my suffering.

However, he doesn't resort to the use of the Cruciatus Curse or anything else. He merely strokes my hair, while I cry out in distress against his robes. I feel so alone, tired, and lost. I want it to be over. I need this to be over. Suddenly, I feel something is being pressed to my lips and I try to back away when a strange smell fills my nostrils. What is that? Apprehensively, I look at the small vial Voldemort is holding in his hand. I am not taking that. Who knows what that is? I've never smelled anything like it.

'Don't make me force you,' he breaks the silence.

Of course, there is the usual threatening and … He presses the vial against my lips. My eyes meet his for the first time since I panicked and he gazes down at my tearstained face calmly. The determination in his eyes says it all. I have no choice here. He looks straight at me as he empties the contents of the vial inside my surrendering mouth and I swallow it. It's not a disgusting potion as most are and I recognise some of the flavours, but I don't know what it is or is supposed to do, and it troubles me thoroughly.

His gaze turns quite intense and predatory as he lifts my naked body up in his arms. I am no longer crying now and a strange sense of calmness is making its way through me. I lean against him not having the strength to resist what I know is going to come next. He drains on our magic. A quick spin and he Apparates us back into his bedroom. Swiftly, he places me back down in the bed I vacated in a hurry so little time ago. I blink several times, because the world is turning blurry before my eyes.

'You're almost there, my dear,' Voldemort whispers, satisfied. 'You're almost mine completely. It won't be long now. Stop fighting and embrace your destiny.'

I almost doze off when I see a silver mouse entering and it's speaking to Voldemort. I recognise the manner in which the Order of the Phoenix used to communicate with each other. Only Voldemort has expanded upon that system and I can't hear what the mouse is saying. But whatever it is, it can't be good, because he suddenly looks like Christmas has arrived. The world around me feels like a merry-go-round, but through my dazed state of being, I see Lord Voldemort Transfiguring himself back to his old, snakelike appearance. It appears to be rather painful if his expression is anything to go by. When he is done, all that remains of his 'Tom Riddle' features are his dark eyes, but a Glamour takes care of that next. A vile smile creeps to his face and it frightens me to the core. He is too pleased. This is not good. He cups my cheek and I blink again. I feel drowsy.

'This will push you over the edge, Hermione,' he softly says, kissing my forehead. 'It is time you became what we both know you should be.'

And with a swift spin, he Apparates away to an unknown destination. His cold, high-pitched laugh is the last thing I hear before the unidentifiable potion renders me unconscious.

...
- 23
- 24
- 25
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Bittersweet Taste of Victory