Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Shared Flame	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 58984 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make any money writing this.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Happy October everyone! Fall, fall, tra la la, la la! Eh… right. On with the story.

Thanks to Nerys for betaing and thanks to everyone else for reading and reviewing.

Chapter 24
The last week before Christmas disappeared like a spell. Voldemort had a ton of finals to grade, and Hermione, who was neurotic about falling behind in school, was studying most of the time. That is when she wasn’t leaning over the toilet because of her pregnancy.
The morning of Christmas Eve, they took a Portkey to Australia at five a.m., arriving at three in the afternoon, local time. They ate dinner, and Voldemort was introduced to the Grangers’ Christmas Eve tradition: watching Die Hard. Malcolm and Hermione seemed the most interested in it. Helen was watching with half an eye on the telly while laying a jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table. Voldemort wasn’t sure if he liked the motion picture but decided it was better than having to talk to his in-laws.
Christmas Day started with a morning fuck after Althea had run down to her grandparents. Afterwards, they went down to the Christmas tree standing in the living room. Breakfast was eaten at the coffee table, while they watched Althea open the presents with a little help from her grandfather. When all her gifts were open, she looked at each of them before she picked up the green teddy-snake her father had given her. Hissing in Parseltongue to herself, she started to run up and down the stairs.
“Koka flew over the city and aimed at the building. PANG! It exploded.”
Voldemort chuckled when he heard it but didn’t care to translate.
Voldemort picked up his gift from the Grangers first. It was a nice chess set, which Voldemort doubted he would ever use, but he thanked them nonetheless. However, his intention to just leave it in his closet at home was destroyed when Malcolm wanted them to play later. Voldemort accepted, thinking that at least it would make time seem to pass somewhat quicker.
Hermione’s gift to him was a bit more fun, or rather, the suggestion she whispered in his ear as he opened it was. He gave her a kiss and then his gift to her. He had thought about it long and hard, until he had finally decided he wanted to give her jewellery.
Hermione gasped when she saw the contents of the box. Inside it lay a jewellery set in gold: a necklace with a ruby hanging in the middle, a bracelet with three small rubies and a ring with one ruby framed with two diamonds.
“They have an anti-theft ward around them so only you can remove them. They will also be able to protect you from lighter hexes and curses and will notify me if someone uses magic on you. It can also be activated as a Portkey if you need it to.”
Tears started to fill her eyes, and she hugged him, whispering her thanks.
“It almost looks like an engagement ring,” Helen noted when Hermione showed her the contents of the box.
Voldemort shrugged. “It can be used as such, I guess, but it’s up to Hermione. I just wanted her to have a set of jewellery, which is fancy but not over the top. You never know what sort of parties you can get invited to on short notice.”
Hermione kissed him again, and Voldemort wondered how long it would take until he could fuck her again. As it turned out, he had to wait until everyone had gone to bed, but then, he made sure to do it thoroughly since one never knew when he would have the chance to do it again.
On Boxing Day, they slept in for as long as they could. It was already ten when they finally made their way down to eat breakfast. Althea had been up for several hours by then and would undoubtedly have trouble adjusting to British time again. The girl seemed utterly confused when they took a Portkey to England, and Hermione told her it was morning again. Thankfully, all the playing had made Althea tired, and she was able to take a nap when she came home. Hopefully that would make her alert enough when they later went to the Weasleys.
Hermione and Voldemort had also started to take a nap, but Voldemort woke up not even half an hour later by an owl knocking at the window. He quickly went to the window and opened it. The owl was carrying a book. He paid the owl, and it flew away again. It was the book he had ordered two weeks ago, which was written by the German author who knew about “Legilimency through touch”.
Voldemort’s German was a bit rusty. He would have to read it with a dictionary if he wanted to understand it correctly, and he didn’t have time until later. Instead, he hid the book underneath the couch for now. If Hermione knew German, he didn’t want her to start reading it before he had a chance to.
Just a few minutes later, Hermione came out of the bedroom, too, yawning. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No,” he simply said, smiling. “Did I wake you up?”
She yawned again. “No, I just wasn’t that tired I guess. Then, you weren’t there so … What time is it?”
“Early enough for a shag,” he said, patting the pillow next to him on the couch.
For a moment, Hermione looked like she was about to decline, but then, she seemed to remember that she had promised him sex whenever he wanted it. He pulled off his T-shirt and threw it onto the armchair. Hermione sighed and removed her shirt, jeans and underwear before straddling his lap. He let his hands wander over her back.
“Are you starting to feel like this is a chore, Hermione?” he wondered, mumbling and unhooking her bra.
Of course, the moment their skin had come in contact, Hermione let out a pleasuring sigh. “Not a chore. I’m just tired and feeling a bit nauseated.”
“Are you going to throw up?” he asked, his hand pausing at her waist.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Good.” He pulled her against his chest and kissed her throat. “When you feel like it is a chore, let me know and I’ll spice it up.”
“Do I want to know how?” she wondered, tilting her head and allowing him to nibble at her most sensitive spots.
“I won’t tell you.”
“Of course not,” she muttered. Then, during the next thirty minutes, she didn’t say anything more than an occasional “yes, oh, dear, oh, please, yes”.
They took a shower before getting dressed and waking Althea.
“You won’t do anything to them, right?” Hermione asked as she helped Althea button up the new, green dress she had got from her grandparents.
“Not unless they give me a reason to,” he answered honestly.
He would make sure the Weasleys approved of him for the moment. If they didn’t, they would nag to Hermione about it, and then, Hermione would be upset and annoying.
“Promise?”
“What do you want, a pinkie-swear?” he asked with a snort.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, you have tried to kill them all on several occasions.”
“True. However, now I’m more in the mood of discovering whether Mrs Weasley’s cooking is as good as they say. If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Voldemort took their daughter, and Hermione took his arm, Apparating them to the Burrow. Voldemort was not impressed by the house. Either they had a bad sense of aesthetics or they were just bad at magic. Either way, he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to live there. He didn’t mind small, but he wanted it clean and in order. This was just … chaotic.
“Try not to talk about money,” Hermione muttered as they came into the garden.
“I do have excellent people skills, Hermione. When I care to use it,” he added when she gave him a look of disbelief.
She didn’t comment because right then, the front door flew open, and Ginny Weasley came running out.
“You came! And thank you so much for your Christmas gift! I love them.”
The two girls hugged, and Voldemort put Althea down on the ground. The little girl ran to Ginny and hugged her as well.
“I hope we aren’t too early?” Hermione asked as they stepped into the house.
“No, not at all. Most of us have been staying here. Only Bill and Fleur went home since they didn’t want to disturb us with the baby.”
“Oh, Fleur has given birth?”
“I didn’t say that? Sorry, yes, Dominique is just three weeks old, though.”
As the two girls rambled about babies, Voldemort looked around the hallway and into the living room where most of the family seemed to have gathered. Potter was sitting right next to his sidekick, talking in low voices about something. When the dark-haired boy spotted him, he rose with a smile on his face.
“Professor Foster,” Potter said and shook his hand. “Happy you could make it.”
“Please, call me Marcus,” Voldemort said graciously.
Hermione came up, gave Harry a hug and then took Voldemort’s hand. “Hi, everyone. This is my fiancé, Marcus Foster.”
Arthur and Percy Weasley were the first ones to stand up and greet him as Hermione steered them down to the unoccupied chairs by the fire. George Weasley introduced himself and his girlfriend Angelina, and then, they shook hands with Charlie Weasley. By then, Voldemort noted that the youngest brother, Ron, had disappeared from the room. Hermione seemed to have noticed this as well. She was looking rather grimly into the kitchen for a moment but then changed her expression to a somewhat forced smile when the plump Mrs Weasley came out to greet them as well.
“Oh, I’m so happy you could make it,” she said with a big smile.
However, Voldemort could see that she wasn’t perfectly honest. Perhaps she had hoped to see her youngest son settling down with Hermione? Voldemort was very happy to have destroyed her plans.
“We’re happy to be here,” Voldemort lied with an equally big smile. “This is for you, for allowing us over.”
Voldemort withdrew the package he had shrunken in his pocket and returned it to normal size before handing it to the matriarch.
“Oh, dear Merlin, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
Right, social protocol. How utterly boring.
“Please, it’s my pleasure,” Voldemort said. “Just a small token of our appreciation. Hermione has told me so much about you and how you are her second family.”
Mrs Weasley blushed and looked at Hermione. “Aren’t you a dear. Well, please sit down. I’ll have the brunch ready in a little bit.”
Voldemort had hoped to just be able to sink back in the chair and observe the others interacting, but the Weasleys’ oldest son arrived with his family, and more greetings were exchanged. After that, Andromeda Tonks came in with her grandson as well. The room became very crowded, and Voldemort felt a desperate need to wash his hands after shaking theirs.
While Hermione talked with Potter and his fiancée, Voldemort found himself in a conversation with Arthur and Percy. He didn’t talk as much as he listened to the two others. They had surprisingly interesting things to say about what was going on at the Ministry, and Voldemort decided his decision to set off on the right foot with the Weasleys was a good one.
“Brunch is ready!” Mrs Weasley called out after about half an hour.
Voldemort and Hermione were the last ones to make it to the table and thus were placed at the short end. He placed Althea between himself and Hermione. It was crowded, but it would have to work. Next to him, at the long side of the table, sat Potter. The table was so full of different dishes that Voldemort feared another plate would break it. Mrs Weasley must have feared this as well because she had her two youngest children walking around the table, taking notes on what everyone would like to drink so they didn’t have to put carafes on the table. After that, they disappeared to a room in the back and levitated full glasses to the table.
Ron Weasley gave Hermione and Voldemort their glasses but didn’t even stop to greet them as he placed the drinks in front of them. Instead, he seemed to hurry away to give the others their drinks before sitting down, two places down the long side of the table. Voldemort looked from him to Hermione. Her lips were tightly pressed together. Had they had a disagreement he hadn’t heard about? Oh, well, he would, no doubt, find out later.
He filled up his plate with all sorts of food: Roasted turkey, potatoes, cranberry sauce, Brussels sprouts, stuffing and some dishes he didn’t even recognise. He discreetly cast a spell to see if any of the food was poisoned, but it wasn’t. Not that he had found it likely. No one at the table seemed to be about to poison him, but you never knew.
He began eating and watched the others as they talked and ate. After a short moment, he noted that Hermione hadn’t begun eating yet. Instead, she was trying to make Althea eat some turkey. The girl, however, was determined in keeping her mouth shut.
Leaning closer to his daughter, he asked in English: “Why aren’t you eating?”
Althea looked up at him. “I don’t want to.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Why not?”
“I don’t want to!” she repeated, crossing her arms.
“Come on, Althea, you need to eat,” Hermione said with a sigh, holding up the fork.
“No!”
“Althea, do as your mother says.”
Instead of responding, Althea climbed down from her seat and ran away before Voldemort had a chance to stop her. He was about to get up and bring her back, but Hermione put her hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll get her,” she said, starting to look tired.
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
She squeezed his shoulder and bent towards him. “This is not the place for you to lose your temper. Althea is just being defiant.”
“Very well,” he agreed and turned back.
When Hermione left, Voldemort saw Ron looking strangely after her. He frowned. The boy looked like he was waiting for something.
“So, how was Australia?” Potter broke into his line of thoughts.
Voldemort put on his friendliest face. “Hot. It’s rather hard to get into the Christmas spirit when you could just as well lie on the beach. Althea liked it, though.”
“I can imagine.” Potter was looking rather wishful. “I can’t wait to start my own family.”
Voldemort saw that Ginny, who was sitting next to her fiancé, choked a little on her pudding. Potter glanced at her, but she pretended like nothing had happened and continued to talk with her brother, Charlie. Voldemort hid his smile as he looked at the redhead. It seemed like Potter would get his wish granted sooner than he had anticipated. The look on Ginny’s face clearly said that she had a huge secret involving their family to share.
Potter, always dim-witted, didn’t notice the woman’s body language and just ate more of his pigs in a blanket.
“Yes, families are nice,” Voldemort said, amused, “especially for those of us who never really had one.”
Potter looked at him questioningly.
“Sorry. Although, you can’t be very surprised any longer that people are aware of your family history,” Voldemort remarked in a careful tone.
Potter sighed. “No, I’m more surprised when they don’t. But you had your father, right?”
“Yes. However, most of the time, he behaved more like a teacher than a father.” Voldemort grimaced. “Don’t mean to bring you down with my broken childhood, though. I have a new family now. One that I’m very happy with. I guess it’s true what they say: The family that counts is the one you create yourself.”
Potter nodded in understanding. Voldemort cheered of triumph on the inside. As long as Potter found Marcus Foster a believable persona, he would never even suspect that it wasn’t true. Marcus wasn’t the complete opposite from his true self. That would be too hard to pull off. But he made the changes from his true character different enough so that no one would see a connection. Manipulation was a fine art.
Right then, Hermione came back, looking a bit grim. He frowned.
“Althea is sulking for some reason,” she muttered as she sat down. “I told her she can come down when she is hungry.”
Voldemort frowned. Why was Althea behaving like that all of a sudden? He would have to ask when they came home. Perhaps she was just entering the defiant age. He had read about it in the parenting-teaching books Hermione had. Not so much because he needed advice, but because he wanted to know what was socially acceptable. Correcting children in front of strangers was, but not screaming at them. Hence, he decided to let Althea be for now, so there wouldn’t be a scene.
As Hermione began to eat, he noticed that Ron was once again glancing at her. The redhead had the same air around him as someone who was waiting for something to happen. Voldemort ate slowly as he regarded the boy. Was he waiting for eye contact with Hermione?
Just as Hermione reached for her glass with water, a small glint of guilt showed in Ron’s eyes. If Voldemort hadn’t been watching him, he would have missed it all, because right after that, Ron looked away. He didn’t want to see what was about to happen. Voldemort had seen the same look before in his Death Eaters. Just after they had fired the Killing Curse, so many looked in the other direction just before its impact. Because they were cowards, unable to see their deed being carried out.
Right before the glass reached Hermione’s mouth, Voldemort slapped it out of her hand. Its contents spilled out over her robe as the glass fell down on the ground with a loud crash.
All conversation in the room stopped. Voldemort stared at Ron who looked about ready to panic. Voldemort could feel all eyes on him.
“What,” he began slowly, “did you put in her glass, boy?”
“I-I don’t know what you are t-talking about,” Ron stuttered. It was obvious that he was lying.
Voldemort reached for his wand, but Hermione gripped his hand, hard.
“Ron?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Did you put something in my glass?”
He mumbled something and looked down.
“Ronald Bilius Weasley!” Mrs Weasley stood up, staring at her son in shock. It seemed it was true that a mother always knew when her children were lying. “What have you done?”
Then again, it was clear as day that the boy was guilty of something. Voldemort had a very hard time controlling his fury. If Hermione hadn’t been keeping such a tight grip on his hand, he would probably have attacked the boy, which would have made him reveal his identity to everyone in the room. He couldn’t have that. No, he would have to wait until everyone had left. Or wait and see what the others discovered. However, he doubted those imbeciles would be able to find something useful.
Arthur Weasley, who had been sitting next to his son, looked at something Voldemort couldn’t see. However, it must have been revealing because, the next moment, Arthur fished up a bottle from inside Ron’s robe. He stared at the bottle.
“What is the meaning of this, Ronald?” Arthur said in a very grave voice.
Molly went over to him. Her hand flew up to her mouth when she saw the bottle. Voldemort started to feel very annoyed. What had the boy tried to do?
The oldest son, Bill, who was sitting next to Arthur, glanced at the bottle as well.
“It’s an abortion potion,” he said with surprise in his voice.
A collective gasp was heard around the table. Voldemort could no longer sit by and do nothing. While everyone else was focused on the boy, he carefully released his wandhand from Hermione’s tight grip and held her hand in his left instead. A quick flick with the wand and a soundless spell was cast, freezing everyone but him in place. He looked around carefully, making sure everyone had been caught inside the spell. Time Freezing Magic was difficult to master, and things could easily go wrong.
Then again, Voldemort was the most powerful wizard alive, and of course, his spell was a success. No one moved, and he could remove his hand from Hermione’s, making sure he remembered the exact posture he’d sat in so he could return to it when he ended the spell.
Rising, he stretched. He felt so much calmer now when he was actually doing something. He would find out exactly what motivated the boy so he would be able to stop him in the future. He would also find out the most effective way to punish the boy for what he had done. Although, the punishment would have to wait until they weren’t surrounded by Order members.
Voldemort turned towards the table with a wishful expression. It would have been so easy to kill them all right away. Potter was sitting with a frown on his forehead and a worried expression in his frozen eyes. Just two small words and the boy would never bother him again.
But the only reason he would have to kill them was because they had angered him in the past. That was unnecessary, quite unnecessary. Since they didn’t know who he was, they weren’t a danger to him anymore. Instead, they would be more useful to him alive. The fact that Hermione would not fuck him if he did kill her friends might have something to do with his decision as well.
He walked around the table and used his wand to float Ron away from his seat. Once the boy was floating in front of him, he used Legilimency to enter his mind.
He saw through Ron’s eyes how the boy poured the abortion potion into Hermione’s glass before bringing it out to her. But why had he done it? Voldemort couldn’t detect any hate against Hermione coming from Ron. Instead, the boy seemed to think it was for the best because … because …
Voldemort searched in the boy’s mind for the answer, but something was blocking him. It wasn’t the boy. In his frozen state, he could not use Occlumency. But even if he had been aware, his attempts would have been laughable judging by the memories the boy had of experiencing it. No, there was stronger magic at play here.
Ron’s brain reeked of the same magic Hermione’s brain had done. And just like then, Voldemort had no idea what it was.
With a hiss of anger, he broke the connection to the boy’s brain after finding out his biggest fear were spiders. The boy had tried to kill his unborn child, and someone else was behind it. Voldemort suspected it was the same someone who had wanted Hermione to have an abortion at St. Mungo’s. But who was it? And why? What would they gain from that? Or prevent?
He would have to investigate when he was alone. Now he had to unfreeze time and let the others figure out that Ron hadn’t come up with this plan. The boy would, no doubt, need to stay a long time in St. Mungo’s before they managed to break the complicated spell he was under. Despite his worry and anger, Voldemort smirked. He would make sure that visit took an extra long time.
He put the boy’s body back and went to his own place. However, before he sat down, his eyes fell on Hermione. Perhaps she needed a small sign that he had done something so she wouldn’t continue to worry that he would lose his temper.
His smirk widened. Yes. A sign that he had been busy.
He sat down in his seat again and flicked his wand at Hermione. She was wearing a knee-length, black skirt, and he had just removed her knickers. Since they were sitting with their legs under the table, he lifted up her skirt and moved his hand up to her cunt. Then he made sure he was sitting almost as he had before and ended the spell that had the other people frozen in time.
Hermione’s eyes snapped directly to his in shock. He curved his lips into a quick reassuring smile and curved his fingers against her sex. She pushed his hand away.
“Why would you give Hermione an abortion potion, Ron?” Potter had risen only a moment after he had become unfrozen.
Ron only muttered something no one could hear. Molly, Arthur and Bill all started to argue with Ron, asking him what he could possibly hope to achieve.
Voldemort leaned closer to Hermione. “Mind-control.”
“Are you sure?” she whispered back.
He nodded.
Hermione’s expression darkened. No doubt was she thinking about the same thing as he did. First, some mysterious Healer had tried to talk her into having an abortion, and now, one of her closest friends suddenly tried to slip an abortion potion into her drink? Someone didn’t want them to have another child. Voldemort was very interested in finding out whom and why.
When the angry voices became so loud no one could hear the other, Potter took control over the situation.
“Everyone, shut up!”
It became quiet. Voldemort looked at Potter, ready to manipulate the situation if needed.
“If we are to sort this out, we have to remain rational. So if everyone but Bill, Arthur, Hermione and Marcus would leave ... for now,” he quickly added when Mrs Weasley began to object, “then we will try to find out and understand what happened. Please.”
As Ginny passed Voldemort, he gripped her shoulder. She looked up at him, very pale.
“Could you look after Althea, please?” he asked in a low voice.
She nodded and then hurried out. Why had she seemed so frightened? Ignoring it for now, Voldemort looked at Potter walking over to where Bill was standing next to Ron. The youngest brother was still sitting motionless at the table. Ron wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes but stared down at his own feet. Once the room was somewhat empty, Voldemort rose and helped Hermione up. Her expression had darkened a lot, but she didn’t look at Ron. Instead, she was looking around the room as if she were expecting someone else to jump out at any moment.
“Okay, first off, Marcus.” Potter turned to him. “What made you think Ron had put anything in Hermione’s glass?”
Voldemort had already come up with a lie he hoped would suffice. “I knew that Hermione considers Ron one of her oldest and closest friends, so when we came in, I was expecting him to greet us. But he didn’t look happy at all with seeing her and didn’t even say hello. I thought it was peculiar so I guess I just kept looking at him.”
He looked down at the red-haired boy who was still staring at the table.
“When I saw him serving us drinks, I noticed that he was being … nervous. Especially when he handed over the drink to Hermione. I started to think that maybe he had a bit too tender feelings for her, and I can be a little bit jealous sometimes.”
Hermione coughed. He ignored her.
“I saw that he kept glancing at her and especially at her drink. When she was about to drink, I saw that he, for some reason, looked ashamed and … well, I’ve had a lot of disciplinary talks at Oxford and that was the same look students get when they know they have done something wrong but don’t want to admit it. Thus, I acted.”
Potter regarded him for a while and then looked at Bill. “How can we be sure that it was Hermione’s glass he spiked? If he spiked it at all?”
“That should be easy enough to determine,” Bill said and brought out his wand.
Voldemort tensed, ready to cast a shielding spell if Bill was about to curse Hermione.
“Accio Abortion Potion!” he called.
The liquid, that had fallen on Hermione’s clothes and the floor, flew up in the air.
Potter and Arthur’s expressions were grim. Arthur sat down next to his son, gripping his hand.
“Ron, why would you do it?”
Ron mumbled something again, his shoulder tensing.
“What did you say?” Potter asked, trying to sound neutral.
Voldemort had to admit that the annoying, black-haired boy seemed to have grown up. At least, he appeared to have learned to keep his head cool.
“I was only trying to do what was best, okay?” Ron retorted and finally looked up, turning so he could watch Hermione. “You said you were angry that no one offered to help you the last time this happened. Well, this time, I tried to help.”
Hermione, who was still standing next to Voldemort, gaped. Voldemort could see that she was about to attack the boy, and even though he would have found that highly amusing, now was not the time. Instead, he gripped her shoulder and kept her still as she tried to reach the redhead.
“I wanted you to stand by my side as I raised the child, not help me get rid of it!” she said in a very loud voice.
Ron’s face was firm. “Well, it had to be done.”
Hermione blinked, and Voldemort was quite surprised when she grabbed his arm. “Marcus! That’s exactly what she said.”
It didn’t take Voldemort long to follow what she was trying to do: Make them realise that Ron wasn’t the true offender. She seemed to have remembered what Voldemort had said about mind-control.
“Are you sure?” he asked, uncertainty in his voice.
“Yes. And what are the odds of two people trying to make me have an abortion in just a few weeks’ time?”
Potter took a step closer to them. “What are you talking about?”
Voldemort did not want Potter to start an investigation about why someone wanted their second child to die. He would have to turn the blame towards someone else. Someone who hated Hermione, would like to see her suffer and had the magical skills possible to brainwash someone.
“Draco Malfoy,” he said, very glad that he had already taken care of Draco himself. No one would find him, and he was the perfect scapegoat. “When Hermione was in St. Mungo’s, a nurse tried to talk her into having an abortion. Said a bunch of nasty things.”
Hermione nodded slowly. “I got the feeling she was under the Imperius Curse or some other form of mind-control, but she left before I had a chance to find out.”
Potter’s face darkened, but Arthur and Bill only frowned.
“Why would Draco Malfoy do something like that?” Arthur asked.
“He was the one who kidnapped her,” Voldemort said bitterly.
“Yes, but why an abortion?” Bill asked, his frown deepening.
Hermione hugged herself, and Voldemort laid a protective arm around her. He looked at the two others gravely.
“Because it will hurt her,” he said in an end-of-discussion sort of tone. It wasn’t like they had to give a reason for everything, and hopefully, the troubled look on Hermione’s face would stop them from asking more questions.
“But the only way to determine if that is the case is to investigate Ron’s mind. Does anyone of you know Legilimency?” Voldemort continued. He would not admit to knowing Legilimency. It wasn’t a common skill and only a handful were a master at it like he was. It would be too risky to show them what he could do.
“I know a little,” Bill said and took a step towards his brother.
However, as he did that, Ron jumped up from his seat and made an attempt to run past them. Potter hit him in the back with a Stunner, and the boy fell to the ground.
“Why did he try to do that?” Arthur asked, his eyes wide in surprise as he bent down and turned his son over, making sure he was unharmed.
Voldemort started to wonder if he were the only one who could put two and two together. Thankfully, Potter seemed to have learned a thing or two in his Auror training.
“I can think of two reasons,” Potter said, looking very uneasy. “Either he did try to poison Hermione and didn’t want us to know why, or his mind has been tampered with. It’s usual that the one who has done the tampering also makes sure that the subject will flee if someone tries to read his mind.”
Voldemort had to force himself not to snort. “Mind-reading”. Clearly the boy wasn’t even half as clever as others thought.
“Either way, he probably needs to be looked at by a professional,” Potter continued. “No offence, Bill.”
“Oh, none taken,” Bill said with a shrug. “I think both Ron and I will feel much better if I haven’t been inside his mind. There are some things you don’t want your siblings to know.”
Potter nodded. “Arthur, do you think you can call the Auror Legilimency Specialist? Someone should be at the office at this time.”
“Of course,” Arthur said and hurried towards the fire that was burning at the other end of the room.
“Bill, can you stay here with Ron while I talk to Hermione and Marcus in private?” Potter asked.
Bill just nodded, looking at his younger brother with a frown of worry on his face.
Voldemort steered Hermione after Potter up the stairs and into a bedroom. After casting an eye on the decoration, Voldemort was fairly certain it had been Ginevra’s old bedroom. Two beds were placed next to each other. He sat down on the steadier looking of the two and pulled Hermione down next to him. Potter sat down on the opposite one.
Lifting his glasses, Potter rubbed his eyes for a moment. Probably to give himself some time to think. Voldemort held Hermione’s hand and rubbed it slowly in the appearance of calming her down.
“Do you want to press charges against Ron?” Potter finally asked.
Hermione’s eyes widened. “If he has been used by Malfoy, I can’t blame him for his act.”
Potter seemed relieved. “Okay. And don’t worry, we’ll capture Malfoy no matter what.”
Hermione only nodded.
“Harry!” Arthur’s voice was heard from below.
Potter stood up. “Do you want to stay here for a little while? I’m guessing things will be rather hectic downstairs.”
Voldemort would rather they left altogether but sensed that Potter wanted to talk more and decided to use it to get the boy on his side. Thus, he nodded.
Once the door had closed behind the black-haired, young man, Hermione turned to Voldemort. Worry was very clear in her expression.
“How do you know someone used mind-control on him?”
“I saw that his mind had been tampered with. It was the same sort of magic as I saw in yours,” he said tiredly. “We have to be careful.”
Hermione nodded. She was grasping his hand hard in her own. “This mind-control thing, is it like some Muggle hypnothists claim to do: Put orders in the subconscious?”
“Close,” he admitted. “But much harder to do and harder to break.”
“Can Ron snap out of it himself?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Could you help him?” Hermione was looking hopeful.
Voldemort grimaced. “If I had a week or two, then yes. But even if I wanted to, and I don’t, it would be impossible to explain to them why I can help. There are others that can help him.”
“But why does it have to take so long?” she complained.
“Because the magic in his mind prevented me to see all his memories. The mind is complex, but if you find one memory, you can often find a train of thoughts connected to that memory. For example, if you focus on your grandmother you can, in your mind, see different things that have happened with your grandmother; how you played games together or how she read stories to you when you were young. When I entered Ron’s mind, I saw that he put the potion in your glass. I saw how he bought the potion. I saw the argument between you and him, which led to his idea that you might be better off without a second child.” He paused. “How come you didn’t tell me about the argument?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ron and I fight sometimes. There’s nothing more to it.”
Voldemort did not like the fact that she kept things from him. But he would let it go for now. They had more important things to focus on.
“Very well. The reason I know Ron’s mind has been meddled with is because I couldn’t see what made him decide to give you the abortion potion. The idea that you might be better off without a second child was just an angry, immature response to the argument. Somewhere between that fight and when he bought the potion, someone made him decide to do it. But I couldn’t see who it was; magic was keeping me away.”
Hermione hugged herself. “Why would someone do this? And why Ron? Why not mess with Harry’s mind or Mrs Weasley’s? She was the one who made the food.”
“I have no idea why they would do this. But I know why they chose Ron. He wouldn’t have been able to be used like this if he hadn’t been inclined to do it. After all, his personality hasn’t been changed. Someone would have noticed before tonight if that were the case.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Inclined to do it? What does that mean?”
“It means that a part of him, a small part, thought you shouldn’t have a second child.” Hermione was about to object, but he held up his hand. “I’m not lying. Can you honestly not see a small part of Ron thinking that you don’t want a child but are too afraid or proud to have an abortion? Because from what I saw in his mind, he actually believes that he is helping you.”
Her lips tightened, but she looked down.
“Will he try to do it again?” Hermione asked after a moment of silence.
She seemed determined not to give anyone another chance to hurt her unborn child.
“It’s possible. Someone has made him believe that he will do you a great service by getting rid of the child. It is likely that he thinks you are secretly grateful. I saw in his mind that he doesn’t think I’m good for you.” He smirked at the last.
Hermione snorted but then sighed. “I guess I should stay out of his way until he is better. He can become better, right?”
“It will be hard, but there are specialists at St. Mungo’s who should be able to fix him,” Voldemort answered.
She closed her eyes, sighing. He got the feeling she was fighting back tears.
“Merlin, why do I keep getting in the middle of these things?”
He stroked her cheek. “We will manage. I will not allow any harm to come to you or our unborn child.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. Her hand came up to his face. He leaned closer, and when she closed her eyes, he kissed her. He was uncertain why he did it, but it felt like the right thing to do. He didn’t want her to start crying. No. Then, there would be phlegm all over, and that was never pleasant. Besides, kissing Hermione was always pleasuring.
“Voldemort?” she mumbled against his lips.
“Hush, dear,” he muttered back. “Someone could hear.”
“Sorry.” She withdrew slightly and looked up at him, the sadness had been partly replaced with lust. “Why did you take my knickers before?”
He gave her a wolfish grin. “So it would be easier to do this, of course.”
He captured her lips again and moved his hand underneath the hem of her skirt and up between her legs. Like always, she was wet, and she let out a moan when he pressed a finger inside her. Her arms came around his neck, and he laid her down on the bed, his robe falling over her naked legs.
Their kiss was so allconsuming that he first didn’t hear the door opening. But he definitely heard it when Potter entered. It didn’t stop him from slowly moving his finger around inside her cunt. It wasn’t like Potter could see it; Voldemort’s robe was shielding them.
However, Hermione became aware of her friend after only a few short seconds, and she pushed Voldemort away. He had a hard time containing his glee when he saw her flaming red face. He turned and looked at Potter, only to discover the boy seemed equally embarrassed. Just because he couldn’t torture the boy like he used to didn’t mean he couldn’t torture him in some other way.
“Oops,” he said and withdrew his finger from inside Hermione, wiping it off on the inside of his cloak. Maybe he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as a normal person would’ve sounded if they had been caught with their fingers inside someone’s cunt, but that was only because the situation was too hilarious.
Potter cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say that Ron has been taken away. Mr … ah, Arthur and Molly went with him. If you want to leave, too, they will all understand.”
Hermione seemed to want nothing more than to leave the room. “I’ll just go and get Althea.”
Before Voldemort had time to object, she was gone and Voldemort was left alone with the boy he had tried to kill on numerous occasions. Hermione had probably not considered that. There were at least a dozen ways for Voldemort to kill the younger man and make it look like an accident. Not that he would, but still.
“I hope we didn’t upset you with our … er, that,” Voldemort said, making sure a hint of regret was heard in his voice. He did actually know what regret appeared like, even though he had never felt the emotion himself.
Potter’s face was still slightly red. “No, not upset. I’m glad Hermione has found someone she likes.”
Voldemort smiled. “I’m actually happy she hadn’t before. She is an extraordinary woman. I’m lucky I get to have her for the rest of my life.”
Potter smiled back. “Good. Hermione will always be one of my closest friends. I would not like to see her suffer.”
“Neither would I,” Voldemort replied. At least he didn’t want anyone other than him to make her suffer. “But you and Hermione have never … er, been an item, right?”
Potter snorted. “No, never. That would have been weird. I’ll always love Hermione like a sister, but nothing more.”
“I’m relieved to hear that,” Voldemort said and faked a sheepish smile. “I would not want to duel the Saviour of the Wizarding World for her hand.”
Potter laughed. “I’ve actually heard that you are excellent at duelling, so I don’t think I would give you much of a match.”
Voldemort wondered where Potter had heard it but decided it was something to investigate later. Right now, there was another road of conversation he wanted to follow.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Harry. Few manage to become Aurors. And I’ve heard that you have advanced quickly in the field.”
The ever so modest boy smiled shyly. “Comes with being the only one who has ever bested Voldemort. There are a lot better wizards in the squad, though.”
Voldemort smiled. It was just too easy to get him to talk. The sweet, naive, trusting Gryffindor.
“Don’t be so sure about that. From what I’ve heard, You-Know-Who was a very powerful wizard. How did you manage to beat him? If you don’t mind me asking?”
Potter shrugged. “It wasn’t so much that I was good as he was stupid, I guess.”
Voldemort barely managed to keep his face neutral. “Stupid?”
“Oh, I guess he was cleverer than most when it came to a lot of things. But he always underestimated people and their feelings. Especially love. He couldn’t imagine the power that comes from fighting for the people you love.”
“Really? Intriguing.” Voldemort forced his voice to stay friendly even though he was overcome by an overwhelming urge to strangle the boy.
“You weren’t part of the war at all?” Potter asked, curious.
“No, I wasn’t. I was just a toddler when the first war broke out, and since I was living with my father in the Muggle world, I wasn’t really affected by it. Although, afterwards, I have guessed that the war was one of the reasons why my father had me home-schooled,” Voldemort lied effortlessly.
“But wasn’t your father a Muggle?”
“He was, but he was also a very wealthy man with connections in the Wizarding World. What he couldn’t teach me from books, he hired others to do. By the time of the second war, I had already left Britain and was travelling the world. I had no ties whatsoever left here.”
“Must have been lonely.”
Voldemort shrugged. “Before I met Hermione, I was certain I would spend all my days alone.”
That was probably the only true thing he had said to Potter tonight.
Right then, the door opened again, and Hermione entered, carrying a sleeping Althea.
“Sorry it took so long,” Hermione said with a sigh. “She was with the others, and I couldn’t just take her and leave.”
By the bitter look on Hermione’s face, Voldemort figured the talk hadn’t been enjoyable. He stood up and took the sleeping girl from her arms.
“I guess we should take our leave, then,” he said and turned to Potter. “A pleasure to meet you again, Harry, despite the … incident.”
“Likewise,” Potter answered and gave Hermione a hug before he left the room.
Once the door was closed, Voldemort dropped the friendly smile on his face.
“Let’s go,” he growled to her and Apparated them both away.

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