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Somewhere in Time	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 64471 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, LSMerlot! Special thanks to Nerys for idea throwing and for FLOW-checking ;). Huge thanks to those of you who’ve read, rated, and especially those of you who reviewed: magentasouth, Mr. Galion, Deea101, missprez2007, loves evil tom, Lady Miya, Nerys, and Aviendha!

Review replies are now found here: http://serp-replies.livejournal.com/. I do suggest using the link in the first post there because it will be easier to find review replies like that, since I am also answering to anonymous review replies on FFnet there.

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Chapter 27

What had she done?

No, no, no! This was all wrong! Everything had gone down a completely wrong road!

Hermione closed her eyes in defeat as she fidgeted around in the arms of one overly pleased Tom Marvolo Riddle. What was wrong with her? She had been here to hex him! She had been here to tell him what was wrong with his way of doing things! How did she end up ...

She wanted to scream out in frustration. How could she do this? How could she ...

Suddenly, she recalled that very suspicious, illogical moment of muddiness in her mind. She had still been thinking quite clearly before that, and then ...

She immediately sat up on the bed, disregarding how the blanket fell down to her waist and how his eyes ran down her rather exposed body.

"You," she hissed, narrowing her eyes at Tom.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her, unwavering in his calmness despite the waves of anger radiating off her.

"Of course it's me, Granger. Did you think someone was posing as me under the Polyjuice Potion?" he asked lazily.

"You've Imperiused me!" she shrieked.

"Wrong," he replied, a smirk gracing his features.

She snorted exaggeratedly. "Do you think I am a fool? Those were the symptoms of the Imperius Curse and—"

He pushed himself into sitting position and looked at her, the smirk widening on his face. "Two wrong answers in a row. Aiming for a third?"

She stopped in her words and glared at him. Amusement appeared on his face when he realized she had no idea what he meant.

"Did you do anything against your will?" he asked.

"The Imperius Curse can make you feel like you want to," she retorted.

"Tsk tsk tsk," he clicked his tongue. "Wrong again. The Imperius Curse makes you do things, and you will feel like you wanted to while you are under the influence of the spell, Granger. You can't tell me that what has just happened"—his expression turned triumphant when a blush blossomed on her cheeks—"was entirely against your will."

"But—but—but you can't just do that! I was thinking clearly before I felt that jolt of magic! It's—It's—it's—" she sputtered.

"You wanted this, Hermione, or else the spell wouldn't have worked. Let's just say," he told her, a devious glint passing through his eyes, "that the spell simply magnifies your needs and wants and subjugates your logic." He picked up a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. "Therefore, as I've said, it wasn't against your will."

He ran his eyes over her body again, and she harshly pulled the blanket over to cover herself despite the amused expression that dawned over his face at her actions.

"It's not like there's something I haven't seen yet, Hermione," he commented, earning a glare from the witch.

"For the first and the last time," she snapped, which caused him to laugh. A bit too joyfully, in her opinion, as if he saw her as being funny. "It's still rape, regardless of what you say," she said stubbornly through gritted teeth.

"Hermione, when both parties are willing, it cannot be considered rape."

"You placed me under a spell, Riddle."

He sighed exasperatedly. "Have you been listening, Hermione? It simply magnifies your—"

"It stops my mind from thinking," she argued.

"It doesn't stop your mind from thinking," he replied. He tilted his head. "Completely, that is."

She was about to open her mouth, but he spoke before she could.

"You can still determine between right and wrong, but you'll focus on your desires. You do remember about telling me that what we're doing might be wrong."

"I didn't say 'might.' I said it is wrong," she said.

"That, is simply a matter of opinion," he answered with a shrug. "So, as you can see, you still can think." He paused for a second. "And don't you think it's about time you think about your own needs and wants instead of those of others?" he asked. "Or were you planning to become their personal guardians for the rest of your life?"

"That doesn't mean that the spell you used was moral," she pointed out. "It's still wrong."

"Nothing can be classified solely as right or wrong, Hermione," he answered.

"Except for you," she said sarcastically.

"Correct." He grinned. "For the first time tonight."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, wondering why she had even bothered to argue with him.

"'Nothing can be classified solely as right or wrong,' my arse. That would make all the Muggle drugs in society legal and moral," she muttered. "But nooo, because magic was involved, everything's alright; human thoughts did not need to be taken into consideration; and all laws should be dumped down the drain."

"Granger, you cannot possibly compare Volupta's spell to Muggle drugs," he said in disgust. "You cannot control yourself if you are exposed to Muggle drugs. However," a smug grin appeared on his face, "with Volupta's spell, if you hadn't had those needs and wants in the first place, it would not have made much of a difference. While I was holding you in my arms, you could have wanted to read and started kicking me away to run to your precious books."

Her cheeks burned.

"Volupta's spell was banned a hundred and fifty-seven years ago," she snapped.

"And I'm sure the Cruciatus Curse is a very legal spell," he replied cheerfully.

"Oh, are we going to start counting the amount of illegal spells we've thrown at people now?" Hermione asked. "Because if we do place a number on that—"

Her mouth snapped shut as flashes of memory zoomed through her mind, and she recalled the less-than-moral curses she had used on Lord Voldemort's lackeys during the final battle. The spell she had used on Marietta was not completely ... kind either. Tom, on the other hand, was not exactly snake-face yet, so she had no idea if his numbers were higher than hers. Of course, she knew he had already cast three Killing Curses, created Horcruxes, opened the Chamber of Secrets, and Cruciated his Knights, but she was not sure what his total was.

An amused expression appeared on Tom's face when she stopped abruptly.

"My, my, Hermione. Is that guilt I'm seeing on your face?" he teased as he leaned closer to her, dropped the strand of hair he was playing with, and placed a finger under her chin.

She slapped his hand away. "You're undoubtedly going to lie about it."

"I haven't exactly lied to you yet," Tom said, his face indecipherable. His lips curved into a small smile. "But I doubt you can say the same. After all, Durmstrang has been known to place an abnormal amount of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

"Learning about them does not necessitate using them," she refuted, disregarding the sarcastic tone of voice he had used for her supposed former school. "Just like wanting doesn't necessarily mean taking. I might want something, but that doesn't mean I have to succumb to my desires."

"Why not?" Tom asked.

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"Why not?" he repeated himself nonchalantly. "Pushing away your desires, suppressing your emotions, thinking what other people want instead of what you want ..." A sneer briefly curled his lips into a curve. "It will only cause you to want something even more, and it will make you miserable if what you want falls into the hands of someone else."

She gaped at him. "The world doesn't just revolve around one person."

"It doesn't, but it can," he replied firmly. A dark, ambitious look flashed over his features until his eyes alighted on Hermione again. "Has your so-called selflessness worked wonders for you? Has any of your beneficiaries given their benefactor anything else other than mere words of thanks?"

"Sometimes, an appreciative, happy smile is worth it," she replied.

He laughed mockingly at her words. "An appreciative, happy smile? Tell me, Hermione: How long does their gratitude last? How long does their so-called happiness last? Forever? They will forget what you have done for them in a few days at most. Is that what you're seeking for? Mindless leeches who use you whenever the situation arises for it?"

"They are my friends," she said quietly. "Friends are supposed to help one another out without wishing for something in return. You can't place a price on everything you do. Nobody will be able—nobody will be willing to help others in a situation like that."

"Friends," he murmured, a sarcastic glint in his eyes. "They're only your friends when they need you. When they don't need you, anyone else can be a welcomed presence. No, Hermione, friends can be replaced. Who do you think is more important to Mr. Evans? You or Miss Weatherby?"

"Those are two different things. I am Harry's friend, and Ginny's his fiancée," she pointed out.

"Push comes to shove, you are expendable," Tom concluded, a triumphant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Harry would never think like that. He's not like that. He's—"

This was last year all over again. She could recall the locket Horcrux saying nearly the same exact things, and the effort to push away those negative feelings was not any easier the second time around. Improper memories still managed to creep back to the surface of her brain.

She could not lie and say that she had not cared about the fact that the second task of the Triwizard tournament proved that Ron was more important than her to Harry. It truly did hurt her to some extent even though she knew that both of them were boys. That, naturally, would enable them to chat with one another with more ease. In addition, she had to serve as someone dear to Krum, and it would have been unfair for Harry to have to save two people at once. However, even with that knowledge and the amount of convincing she had done with herself, deep inside her heart, she had always known that Ron held a higher place than her in Harry's heart.

Oh, please. Am I really going to get jealous of Ron in this situation? This is ridiculous! I hadn't cared before, so why should I care now? she thought defensively, throwing away those negative feelings.

The good thing about dealing with this Tom Riddle and not the Horcrux was that this one had no idea what other memories could be used against her.

"You cannot compare different relationships like that. Perhaps I may not be the most important person in Harry's life, but I know he would never think of me as someone who's expendable. He would go lengths to save me," she finally said. "And I trust him."

"You're too naive, Hermione. You will come to learn that trust is too feeble a concept to build relationships upon because you will always be betrayed," he responded.

"You cannot possibly believe that," she said before she had time to think it over.

Of course he believed what he was saying. After all, Dumbledore had already told them about Tom Riddle's inability to trust anyone. Many of his followers would like to think that they were his friends and had his confidence, but the truth was that they had nothing of that sort. Lord Voldemort would never consider them as his friends.

"The only way you can 'trust'—"A sneer marred his features. "—someone is if you have something to hold over their heads. It's the only way to ensure that they will not double-cross you."

She ogled at him.

How could he live like that? She could not begin to fathom how he had gotten through his younger years with that train of thought. Distrusting everyone, seeing darkness in everything ... it was not the way Hermione was used to. Of course she had had her darker moments in life, such as intentionally leading Umbridge to her death—well, the miserable old bat was asking for it the moment she handed that awful quill to Harry and made him write lines. But in general, she trusted her closer friends to support her through darker times. It was what drove her to carry on when Ron had abandoned her and Harry. She did not even want to recall what the Horcrux had started to tell her the moment Ron had disappeared.

Unable to comprehend Tom's way of thinking, she threw the blankets off and marched over to the place where she had seen him throw her wand, trying her best to ignore her nudity.

"I thought you said it was the last time," he called out from the bed, causing her to shoot daggers at him again.

"Well, at least it causes you to start staring like a moron and stop making those inane comments," she sneered right back at him.

Thankfully, she found her wand sitting in front of one of the closets. With a quick wave, she was clothed again. When she turned around, she found that he, too, had robed himself with his back towards her. Her wand arm twitched again, and she was so itching to hex him for what he had done.

If he thought distracting her would make her forget, he was terribly wrong.

Yes, she might ... like him a bit too much, but that did not mean that he should have befuddled her mind and ... taken her like that.

Unfortunately, he swirled around before she could decide on which curse to use on him.

"You can't seriously tell me that you can stand other people taking what is yours," he said, raising an eyebrow.

His words took her aback, and for a moment, the image of Iris hanging onto Tom flashed through her mind, but she quickly shook it away.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was definitely not hers.

"I'm not your property," she growled, her previous anger at him flaring up again. "And I refuse to be treated like it."

Instead of getting infuriated by her words like she thought he would, however, his face solidified into that impassive mask again.

"Get this into your mind, Hermione," he said quietly. "You belong to me, and as I've told you, I will always claim what is mine."

She let out an irritated sigh and rolled her eyes.

"Su-ure! Why don't we just all flag someone and declare that they're our property?" she asked sarcastically. "The world doesn't work like that, Riddle. Every individual has their own will, and that can't be overridden by a simple command on your part. If you thought that raping me would mark me as yours, you're incredibly wrong. I still belong to myself and can think for myself."

"Are you still going on about it being rape?" he questioned her in an annoyed voice. "Do I really need to repeat myself so many times? It's—"

"I know what the properties of Volupta's spell are. There's a reason why it's illegal, Riddle. Not everyone appreciates not being in control of themselves. Do I really need to grab a dictionary and show you the meaning of rape?" she mocked him, using the same tone of voice he had used. "Using the spell means that this was forced."

With that she walked towards the door, but he grabbed her arm, preventing her from leaving. She gritted her teeth, and a thought flashed through her mind. The moment he swirled her around, she aimed and scored.

With satisfaction, she grinned as he crashed down on the floor with a groan, his hands covering his groin.

"Thank you for your enlightening speech, Riddle. I really do feel a bit better now that I haven't—what were the exact words you used again?—pushed away my desires, suppressed my emotions, and thought about what others needed instead of what I wanted. Hope you're enjoying yourself now," she taunted.

She turned towards the door and stared at it, glad that the idiotic Dark Lord was still on the floor in pain. She honestly hoped the spell he had used on the door was not the one he had used on the classroom doors.

"Alohomora," she muttered and rejoiced when she heard a "click."

Apparently, he had used the more complicated spell on the classroom doors just in case one of the professors was to run in on them. However, here in the dungeons, where he held a permanent stronghold over his dorm-mates, he did not have to worry about that. The other Slytherins would not dare to barge in on him when he had the door locked.

Except for the "innocent, little lioness" he pulled into his room, that was. It was a bit silly of him, really. Did he think that she would not try to use the simple unlocking spell because it had not worked the first few times?

She grabbed the doorknob and exited the room. Quickly, she made her way downstairs, hoping to reach the Gryffindor tower before Tom recovered enough to hunt her down.

The voices stopped when she reached the bottom of the staircase, and she froze in her steps.

Iris's shocked face was quickly replaced with something more, to a venomous expression of a viper ready to strike. Gerbasios Goyle and Makedon Crabbe both had their jaws slightly open at a Gryffindor witch walking out of their dormitory and had not recovered yet. Dolohov looked like he had just seen Dumbledore, dressed up in a can-can attire, prance by in front of him. With some relief, Hermione realized that Draco was, indeed, still alive, although he was staring at her with worry and shock apparent on his face.

Merlin's pants.

Of course, dinnertime had just passed, and the rest of the remaining Slytherins would be in their common room. She had forgotten that this was the Slytherin common room and not the Gryffindor common room, the latter of which "more than one person in the room" meant rowdiness. It appeared that the Slytherins were not as loud of a group as the Gryffindors when they were in their living quarters.

Suddenly, one of the younger year students sitting in the corner of the room snapped back to his senses and whistled loudly while another leered at her.

She suddenly really, really wished that the floor beneath her would just open up and swallow her whole.

~-0-~

Hermione had no idea how she made it back to the Gryffindor common room, but she somehow managed it. Harry and Ginny immediately asked her why she had gone missing during dinner. As much as she wanted to just tell them everything and get it over and done with, she knew that this was not the time to do so. She was in no mood for questioning sessions, and she would definitely give away her anger while they were talking to her. Therefore, with some difficulty, she murmured something about extra homework and escaped back to her dorm. Perhaps scared off by the way she stomped up the staircase, neither Harry nor Ginny attempted to follow her.

That made her slightly relieved—finally something that was positive about her topsy-turvy night. She did not want them to be involved with what was happening, nor did she want to use them to vent out her anger. They were not the source of her fury.

Tom Marvolo sodding Riddle was.

The nerve of that insipid, brainless, egotistical, annoying, pompous prat, using that spell on her and taking her by force!

It was a good thing she was not some other witch who would just lie down and take his crap. No, she was glad she had given him his "Christmas present" and hoped he had fun with it for as long as it lasted. The image of him on the floor in pain elicited a soft giggle from her. Well, he was asking for it, so he could not possibly blame her for her actions.

He would probably still hold a grudge against her ... but he did rape her.

And then, of course, he had the audacity to go on and on about how it was not rape. She would have to remember to bring a dictionary the next time she saw him so she could show him precisely what the meaning of that word was since he was obviously having major difficulties in understanding it.

And he is supposedly the most intelligent student to walk the hallways of Hogwarts, she scoffed in her mind.

Grudgingly, she had to admit that he was, indeed, clever. She had never met someone as intelligent as he was. Try as she might, she could not recall a Charms class where he could not get a spell with one try. It never happened. It was almost as if he were born to cast magic. And then, there were those Ancient Runes classes where he would challenge Professor Babbling's theories and words and win those debates. She could not deny that it was difficult to pull her eyes away from him when he was talking about something he was passionate about. If he were not so intent on gathering students to become his Death Eaters and became a professor in Hogwarts instead, she could only imagine how intricately interesting his classes would be.

She made a face at herself. Well ... yes ... he was intelligent, something which made him rather ... attractive, and she probably did have more feelings for him than she should, but that did not mean that she was ready to give herself to him. Not to mention the fact that she had ... "broken up" with him yesterday. Or was that the precise thing that prompted him to do that?

She rolled her eyes. That still did not give him a good reason. Just because he probably knew that she liked him did not give him the right to cast a spell on her to make her stop thinking.

She placed a hand on her forehead and sighed. This was not supposed to happen. If only she had been a bit more resistant to him ... No, that probably would have made him even more persistent in his pursuit.

Nobody should say “no” to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

A snort escaped her mouth. Lord Voldemort would get more than a kick in the groin if he thought that she was another one of his brainless followers. When she said "no," she meant it, and no curse or spell would make her think otherwise.

"...with Volupta's spell, if you hadn't had those needs and wants in the first place, it would not have made much of a difference. While I was holding you in my arms, you could have wanted to read and started kicking me away to run to your precious books."

Oh great. Now his words were haunting her, too, as if it were not enough that he was already pestering her in person.

As she stared at the canopy hanging above her bed, tidbits of what happened leaked past her anger and replayed themselves in her mind's eye. Although she had been under the spell, she had been aware of everything. The images ran through her mind, and a furious blush burned her cheeks as she remembered his touches, his kisses, and his smooth voice speaking in Parseltongue.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she shook her head, unwilling to let her guards down and allow the wrong feelings and emotions to run wild. She was, after all, still very angry at him and not ready to forgive him.

Climbing out of bed, she headed over to the bathroom, and as the hot water splashed down, she scrubbed her body vehemently, determined to scrub away any lasting traces of his touch on her.

She was definitely not going to forgive him anytime soon.

~-0-~

The night came and went a bit too slowly for Hermione. She could not sleep. Tom's words, as insane as they were, kept repeating themselves whenever she was about to fall asleep, much to her dismay. Either that or the ... other memories of what happened in his room. Burying them took too much time. Therefore, she was quite cranky and tired when the morning sun peeked over the horizon and announced the beginning of a new day.

She should have known that her restless night was a premonition, a bad omen. However, it was not until she walked downstairs to the Gryffindor common room that she realized the extent of trouble she would have to go through: Harry and Ginny were sitting in front of the fireplace, but they were not the only ones.

Sitting across from them was a very worried and anxious looking Draco Malfoy.

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Somewhere in Time