Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Shared Flame	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 58981 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make any money writing this.

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
Hello everyone! New chapter from yours truly now when the exam is over. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Big hugs and cookies for my two betas Shan84 and Nerys! Also thanks to everyone who have read and reviewed.

Review replies can be found here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/20494-shared-flame-by-lady-miya/page__st__20

Chapter 27
Something had changed between them. Voldemort couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. All he knew was that his and Hermione’s relationship had changed. For better or worse, only time would tell. He had taken a risk, telling her about himself, but it had been a calculated risk. If he could get Hermione to think that she understood him, she would be able to come to peace with what he was and what he needed. He was willing to tell her a great deal about himself if it made her more understanding.
Since he couldn’t directly lie to her, he would tell her the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but a great bit more than he had ever told anyone. He didn’t particularly like having other people knowing his secrets, no matter how insignificant, but this was Hermione. Hermione was a special case.
He glanced at her over the newspaper he was currently reading. He was sitting in the lounge room, and she was at the kitchen table with Althea, teaching the girl how to read. It was still strange for him to consider them as family. He had never wanted one, and yet, here he was, engaged to a Mudblood with his second child on the way. If Hermione and Althea had been baking cookies in matching aprons, he would have had to make sure he hadn’t been transported back to the fifties. The decade where he had actually been at the age he was posing to be in now.
Grimacing, he turned back to the newspaper, letting his eyes rove over an article about the latest scandal concerning a high ranked Ministry official. However, his mind was spinning in other directions.
Hermione was so young. How could she even think she could comprehend what he had been through? To a certain degree, he could agree with her that his experiences had shaped who he was. But since there was no way to change the past, there was no way he would change. He didn’t even want to change. However, in the past, there had been people who had wanted to know more about him because they thought they could “help” him. Their nagging had eventually made him kill them. Since he didn’t want that to happen to Hermione, he would have to make sure she would accept who he was.
Nevertheless, he had high hopes for her after last night. She had seemed to understand his need for control and power. She just wanted to know why he had that need. It was something he wasn’t sure of himself. He, however, had no problem accepting things the way they were.
“No Althea, this is a cat. C A T.”
He smiled behind the newspaper. It was amazing how patient his fiancée was. She and Althea had been at it for over an hour now. Even though Althea repeated the words Hermione spelt out, Voldemort was quite sure it was just because Althea had heard it and not because she could read it.
“Mum, I want to see picture of snake again,” Althea whined.
He heard Hermione sigh. It was around the tenth time Althea asked to see the snake picture, with the book being one of those which had an animal for every letter of the alphabet.
“Fine. But you know it won’t come to life no matter how much you hiss at it,” Hermione reminded her daughter.
Now it sounded like she was losing her patience. Good, perhaps that meant they could finally do something he thought was fun. Voldemort decided that he would grant her the choice of what she wanted to do first—either have sex or do research.
“Here it is,” Hermione said.
Voldemort heard the book scraping the surface of the table, no doubt Althea was pulling it closer to get a better look. Althea had recently begun to ask her parents for a pet snake. Voldemort did miss having a snake around, but since snakes were rather controversial pets and still very associated to him, he was reluctant to give it to her. Hermione wanted to buy them a cat instead, but Althea hadn’t seemed very interested in that.
“Do you think you can spell it out now?” Hermione asked her daughter.
“S - N - E - K,” Althea said.
“No, honey, S - N - A - K - E. Perhaps we should—”
Voldemort lowered the newspaper just in time to see Hermione throw herself over the sink and vomit. In four long strides, he was at her side, holding her hair up for her. She was breathing heavily and leaning against the sink. He quickly made the vomit disappear before handing Hermione the kitchen towel. She took it and muttered something about the bathroom before disappearing into it. Voldemort sighed. Despite the rather spectacular feeling she had showed him the other night, he did not envy her for being pregnant. In fact, if anything, he was extremely relieved he wasn’t. Who would want to go around feeling things like that all the time? It seriously jeopardised the ability to think straight. No wonder the people around him had always been so much stupider than he was.
His eyes fell on Althea who was sitting very still on the kitchen stool, her eyes wide in horror. He frowned.
“What’s the matter?” he asked in Parseltongue.
“Is it my fault that Mum is sick?”
For a moment Voldemort thought that she was joking, but then he realised that she was genuinely concerned. He sat down next to her and took her small hands in his.
“Of course it isn’t. Why would you believe that?”
She hesitated and looked around nervously. Voldemort felt his heart grow cold. His little girl was afraid of something, and it wasn’t him. He fell down on his knees in front of her.
“Tell me, Althea. I won’t let anything or anyone harm you and I won’t get angry with you.”
She moved closer to him, and he tilted his head so she could whisper in his ear.
“It said that I made Mum sick because I can’t control my magic, and that I had to learn how to control it so I could heal Mummy, but I don’t know how to do magic!”
Voldemort snapped his head back and stared at her. She looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears. He schooled his face so she wouldn’t see how angry he was. Althea was a very powerful witch, and if she tried to “help” Hermione by getting rid of her “sickness”, he had no doubt Hermione would suffer a miscarriage. It seemed like the mystery creature had struck again.
“Your mother isn’t hexed, Althea. When you are pregnant, your body has to get used to it. You will feel a bit uncomfortable and sick, but it’s natural. You haven’t done anything wrong,” he explained.
Althea still looked doubtful. Voldemort sighed and stroked her cheek.
“And if there were anything wrong with your mother, I would help her. Your mother means a lot to me, and I don’t want to see her suffer anymore than you do. Do you understand?”
Finally, Althea nodded. Voldemort embraced her and kissed the top of her head.
“Besides, you could never hurt your mother unless you wanted to.” He withdrew and stared at her. “Do you want to hurt her?”
Althea shook her head, eyes wide.
“There you go then.” He stroked her hair again. Physical contact was always good when you wanted to gain someone’s trust. “Now, where did you hear this stupid notion?”
“Snake isn’t stupid!” Althea objected forcefully. “It plays with me!”
Voldemort frowned. Who the hell was “snake”? Perhaps the person who wanted Hermione to have a miscarriage could take different forms?
“No, of course not, my sweet,” he reassured her softly, deciding to try to find out more information about this friend of hers. “However, surely your friend wouldn’t want you to hurt your mother? Perhaps it was just concerned that because your mother will be getting heavier due to the child, you should be careful not to hurt her.”
Althea looked thoughtful.
“Tell you what, why don’t I do a magical trick on you that’ll let me see what this snake has told you. Then we’ll be able to clear up this misunderstanding,” Voldemort suggested in his sweetest tone.
“What sort of magic trick?” Althea asked a bit suspicious, but he could see that she was curious to see it.
“I’ll be able to see what you are thinking,” Voldemort said in a tone of excitement.
“Is it fun?” Althea wanted to know.
“A lot of fun,” Voldemort promised. He would make sure she thought it was fun.
Althea giggled. “Okay.”
Voldemort smiled at her and lifted his wand. Using Legilimency on children was much harder since they hadn’t yet developed an organised mind. Memories were also much fuzzier since children tended to be very egocentric; they only noticed things that were important to them. However, Voldemort had heard that it was easier to do it on children you knew well, and Althea was the child he knew best of all. Granted, you could argue that she was the only child he knew at all, but … Oh, well …
Nevertheless, he entered her mind much more carefully than he had ever cared to do before. He didn’t want her to be scared. At first, he let her guide him through her thoughts. At the moment, she was thinking about what a boring spell he had used; there were no sparks or flashes at all. Then, she continued to think about him. It was always amusing to see yourself through someone else’s eyes, and Voldemort had never before met anyone who viewed him like Althea did. It was amazing to see how much his daughter trusted him. She thought he was much funnier than Hermione, and she would rather turn to him with her problems than to Hermione. Voldemort snickered at that.
Hold on.
There was something else Althea thought about him as well. She saw him as submissive to Hermione. After all, she had only seen her mother striking him, not the other way around. Althea saw that as a sign that Hermione was the one in control. Voldemort was not amused by this. He would have to show her his strength some other day.
However, that wasn’t why he was inside her mind. He slowly started to steer Althea’s thoughts into the direction of her mysterious shadow friend. That was when he met resistance. It was the same type of resistance that he had seen in Hermione’s and Weasley’s mind. The difference was that, this time, Voldemort realised where he had seen it before: Inside his daughter. After all, Althea wasn’t a mere human witch—she had a tiny trace of fairy magic inside her as well.
The moment he realised, it was like a veil had been lifted from his eyes. Suddenly, he remembered a lot of other things as well: How the conversation with Morgana had really gone. Everything he had read about fairies after he had contacted them but had then forgotten. They had made him forget.
He especially remembered one warning at the beginning of a very old book: Fairies could get inside your mind when you were sleeping and rearrange things. They could make you forget important things.
They also were the ones who had been trying to cause a miscarriage. He still didn’t understand why, but that didn’t matter. He had to get to Hermione.
He flew to the bathroom and threw open the door.
“Voldemort! Can’t a witch pee in peace?” Hermione cried, gesturing at him to close the door.
“Right,” he said, looking around the room to make sure there weren’t any fairies lurking inside. “Come back out when you are done.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “No, I had planned to go camping in the bathtub. Now, shoo!”
Voldemort closed the door again, leaving her on the toilet. When he turned back to Althea, however, he saw that he had been running to protect the wrong woman.
Morgana was sitting next to Althea, and they were talking. She was a bit transparent; Voldemort could see the walls through Morgana's white dress. A smile was playing on her lips, and she looked very carefree, despite the fact that he was aiming his wand at her.
“Althea, come here,” Voldemort said to his daughter. He did not want Althea so close to the fairy.
“But we are playing,” Althea said, pressing her lips together.
“Come here, now,” Voldemort demanded.
Sulking, Althea jumped off her stool and walked over to him. Voldemort took her hand in his free one, not taking his eyes from Morgana.
“What did you do to us?” Voldemort asked.
“You already know, Tom Riddle,” Morgana said and winked.
He counted backwards from ten. Trying to kill the fairy would do no good. Any spell he cast would just go right through her.
“Why, then? Why would you make us forget?”
“We only wanted you not to worry about things you can’t control,” Morgana said in a comforting voice.
“What is this?” Hermione had exited the bathroom and came up to him, staring at Morgana.
“You remember Morgana?” Voldemort asked, not taking his eyes of the fairy. “She is the one who has tried to kill our baby. It’s fairy magic that is inside your mind as well as Weasley’s.”
“What? But the fairies are nothing but …” Hermione trailed off.
Voldemort looked at her and watched the realisation hit her. She remembered the truth now as well. All it took was a little hint in the right direction to have all the walls collapse that the fairies had put up in her brain. It seemed like the fairies’ memory charms weren’t as strong as the Wizarding kind. Then again, they didn’t have magic in this world.
Wait.
If they didn’t have magic in this world, then how come they had managed to do a memory charm at all? A wizard or a witch had to be helping them. But who? Fairies needed specific instructions on what sort of magic they could use because they needed to canalise the magic through the magical being they were working with. Who on earth would care whether Hermione and Voldemort remembered that the fairies were bad news or not? And why had the spell been so weak if the fairies had got the permission to use their magic from a magical being? They were not weak. Just look at the new body they had given him!
Unless they used a magical being who was connected both to them and to the real world. Someone they could always use, without having permission.
“So that’s why you need Althea,” Voldemort said softly. “You want your power back.”
Morgana giggled. “Clever Tom Riddle. Then again, you understand everything about the need for power. Can you blame us?”
“Blame you? No, I suppose not,” Voldemort said thoughtfully.
“Voldemort?” Hermione asked, sounding worried. “What is going on?”
Voldemort ignored her; his focus was on Morgana. “But I am going to stop you. I don’t want any fairies in my world.”
“Your world, Tom Riddle?” Morgana asked, amused. She floated closer towards them. “This was our world long before you and your kind even learnt how to use magic. We merely want to come back to it.”
Voldemort sneered. “I’m sure you do. But why would I allow it? You are nothing but trouble. Merlin imprisoned you for a reason.”
Morgana shrugged. “Be that as it may, how do you think you are going to stop us? The only way to do that would be to sever our connection.”
He looked down at Althea and then up to Morgana again. “You don’t think I can do it? Have you got any idea who I am?”
The gasp from Hermione told him she had figured it out as well. The only way to stop the fairies was to kill Althea. She was their connection to the world. It was relatively easy. He had killed hundreds before, including his own family. It shouldn’t be any more difficult to kill Althea.
“Daddy? What’s going on?” Althea’s voice was trembling. She seemed to feel the tension as well. Hermione had fallen down on her knees and was hugging her daughter tightly; her wand in her hand, she was ready to cast a protective shield if necessary. Her eyes shifted between Voldemort and Morgana, with an unspoken vow promising lots of pain if anyone dared to hurt her daughter.
Voldemort looked down at Althea again. His sweet, little girl. She was staring at him with her big, brown eyes—so similar to Hermione’s.
Salazar, Hermione was going to try to kill him again if he tried to harm Althea. He would lose her for good then. He would lose his whole family, and he didn’t want that. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew that he really didn’t want that.
And why would Lord Voldemort do something he didn’t want to?
“You are still weak,” he remarked, looking back at Morgana. “What is it you are waiting for? For her to grow up? Or is it something else?”
Morgana’s face revealed nothing.
“You have come here often and played with Althea. Why would you do that?” he mused.
“Althea wanted a friend,” Morgana said in a soft voice. “I would never deny a child a playmate.”
Next to him, Hermione growled. “But you can kill one?”
Morgana's smile disappeared. Quicker than a human ever could, she moved up to Hermione, stopping a mere inch in front of her. The fairy was much taller, and Hermione had to bend her head backwards to see into Morgana’s unreadable face.
“We worry for Althea, even though you clearly don't.” The fairy's voice wasn't higher than a whisper, and yet, it seemed to fill the room. “Althea is pure, while the child in your stomach will be corrupted by him.” She moved back a bit, making a gesture with her head towards Voldemort but keeping her eyes at Hermione. “They will turn against each other, your children.”
Hermione's eyes narrowed. “And why should we believe anything you say?”
Morgana's eyes turned cold, and she floated backwards in the room. “You have become dark, Hermione Granger. That child—” She pointed at Hermione's stomach. “—will be just as dark as you two. Althea is the only pure one left. We will look after her and make sure she stays that way. And you can't stop us.”
“Actually, we can,” Voldemort said, his mind working quickly. There were spells to keep them out. He knew it.
“More Dark Arts, Tom Riddle?” Morgana looked almost amused and then turned to Hermione again. “If you let him do it, that will only prove how dark you have got and how much Althea needs us to remain pure.”
She dissolved into thin air. Looking pale, Hermione stared after her for several seconds before turning to Voldemort. “What Dark Arts?”
Voldemort grimaced. “Now, I remember everything I’ve read about fairies. Since they are not really from this world, they can come and go as they please, in any form or shape. They can get inside our head while we are sleeping and make us forget this conversation ever took place. But I do know a way to stop them from entering a certain area. However, it involves, ah, blood magic.”
Hermione paled. He wasn’t surprised. Blood magic was as dark as you could get. It was a great taboo within the Wizarding World.
“Dad?” Althea's voice broke through Hermione's thoughts. “What did that shadow-friend-lady mean?”
Their daughter was wearing a confused look on her face. Voldemort crouched down next to her.
“She wants to take you away from us,” Voldemort said in a very serious voice. “But we don't want you to leave us, so we told her she couldn't. I think she has been playing with you so you would come with her. Do you want to leave us, Althea?”
From the corner of his eyes, he could see Hermione scowling at him. Apparently, she didn’t approve of him manipulating Althea’s emotions. Ah, well.
“I don't want to leave. Mum?” She turned to Hermione who quickly sat down and pulled her daughter into a hug.
“You don't have to leave, love,” Hermione mumbled, but she did play along with him. “But we are worried that you would like to go with your shadow friend if you continue to play with her. And we don't want to lose you.”
Althea hugged her tightly and sobbed into Hermione's shirt. Hermione patted her back, and once again, Voldemort could see that she was worried about what Morgana had said.
“She is just trying to scare us,” Voldemort said in a low voice. “And I won’t have to kill anyone. They were the ones that wanted to kill our unborn child. That must mean that child can somehow get in the way of their plan. I’ll make sure it does.”
Hermione still looked worried. He could see what she was thinking. Both their children would be influenced by him, and there was only so much she could do to stop his darkness from spreading to them.
“Hermione.” Voldemort tilted her chin upwards. “We need to do something to keep them away. Do you have a better suggestion?”
Hermione shook her head and looked down at the floor. “Let's talk about this later. We need to focus on Althea now.”
Voldemort sighed but agreed.

xxx

“She has probably been here the entire time,” Hermione stated in a low voice.
Voldemort didn't need her to clarify. His thoughts had also been on the fairy for the last hour. It had taken them that long to calm Althea down and make her promise not to talk to her shadow friend who wanted to take her away.
“It does seem likely,” he muttered, serving them both some tea while glancing at Althea. The girl was sitting on the couch, playing with Koka, the flying plush snake toy. “But there was no way for us to detect her. They can turn into air if they wish it.”
“Why haven't we remembered earlier? Now that I know, it is so obvious that it was them all the time.”
“The mind is a fascinating thing, kitten,” Voldemort said with a sigh. “As long as ideas have some place to grow, it can create very real illusions about the world. That’s how Muggles are able to believe there is no such thing as magic. If they see something that can contradict it, they make something up, like: ‘It was only the wind.’ or ‘I must have been dreaming.’. Silly, little people.”
“Yes, because you are such a realist, Mr I-will-live-forever-and-take-over-the-world.” Hermione snorted.
He smiled at her. “What makes you so sure I won’t live forever and take over the world?”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, you are impossible—I forgot. But back to the fairies: Do you think they changed something else? Do we believe something else that isn’t true?”
“I don’t think they would risk altering too much. And there are things they want that we would never do, no matter how much they alter our minds. Like in the case of Ronald, they can't force us to do something we would never do. Only … encourage us.”
“What do they want, then?”
Voldemort looked at her, surprised she hadn’t realised it already. “Althea, of course.”
Hermione glanced at their daughter, sitting on the couch. “But how can Althea help them? Morgana said something about her being a connection, but to what?”
Voldemort hesitated.
“She is my daughter, too, Voldemort,” Hermione said, her voice hard. “If you know something that I don’t …”
Voldemort snorted. “I know, kitten, you’ll pull out your claws and scratch me bloody. There is no need for that, though. I think the fairies want to use Althea and her magical link to them to be able to use magic in this world again without having to rely on the permission of a witch.”
Hermione sat quiet. “But how come they can’t do that already? They clearly have some influence over her.”
“Don’t know. Maybe she is too young. Maybe the link between them is too weak. All I know is that we can’t let them meet anymore. We have to seal off the flat from them entering, and there is only one way to do that.”
“Blood Magic,” Hermione stated, not sounding at all happy about the prospect.
“With Blood Magic we can make sure that no being can enter without our permission.”
“How?”
He weighed his words carefully. “We would have to draw a line, using our blood, around the entire flat. Then, there is a spell that will make it active for as long as the line is unbroken.”
“Our blood?” Hermione looked disgusted.
“Yes. That is, if you want to be able to invite people over yourself. I could use only my own blood, but then I would have to be the one to invite your friends over.” He smiled. “Now that I think about it—”
“Don't,” she growled. “If we do this, we do this together.”
He smirked but nodded. She wasn't saying no. Once she had thought it over, she would agree. He only had to give her a little time to think.
“Won't people ask questions when there is blood on the walls?”
He shook his head. “Making it invisible will be simple enough. However, we'll have to remember where it is so we don't accidentally destroy it. I suggest we draw the line high up on the walls. It doesn't matter where it is, just as long as it surrounds the whole flat.”
“Won't that take an awful lot of blood?”
She still sounded suspicious, but he could see desperation in her eyes. She wanted to do something. She kept glancing nervously at Althea.
“It only has to be a thin line, and it will be mixed with a potion. At most, half a cup from each of us.”
She looked down at her tea again. “I want to read about it myself.”
“Very well, I have the book in the bedroom.” He rose.
Her head snapped up. “You have books about The Dark Arts in our bedroom?”
He shrugged. “Where else would I put them? Don't worry, they don't bite, and I have them hidden where no one will ever find them. Not even you.” With a wink, he turned around and went to the bedroom.
He closed the door before opening his secret library. The hiding place might not be the most original; it was behind a painting Hermione had demanded to have on the wall. However, if anyone but him lifted the painting, they would see nothing more than the white wall behind it. He cast the spell that would reveal it and quickly pulled out the book he needed before recasting the spell that hid it. After making sure the painting hang straight, he went back to Hermione.
“What’s that, Dad?” Althea asked, looking up as he passed her.
“A book,” Voldemort replied.
“Does it have a princess in it?” Althea wanted to know.
Voldemort remembered the potion in the book that required the eyes of someone royal. Probably not such a good idea to tell Althea about that in front of her mother. “No, it’s not that kind of book, dear.”
Disappointed, Althea turned back to her toys.
Voldemort put the book down on the table in front of Hermione. “Here you are.” He opened the book to the right chapter and pointed it out to her. “I suggest you read nothing more than these few pages. Some of the spells in this book would undoubtedly give you nightmares.”
She stared at him darkly. “Tortured. Thrice,” was all she said before turning to the book.
If he had wanted to give her perspective, he would have mentioned the countless times he had been tortured. However, he knew that she would only ask for details, and thinking back to those moments always gave him a very strong urge to kill. Actually, he already felt a bit homicidal. Hermione had better agree to this ritual. Otherwise, he would have no choice but to leave tonight, promise or not. The whole fairy deal was the complete opposite to what he needed.
He hadn't even had any sex yet!
“The other ingredients in the potion or whatever you call it are quite common,” Hermione noted.
“I know. I can get all of them in just ten minutes.”
She looked up at him, frowning. “You have already decided to do this.”
“Yes. I do not want my memories tampered with, do you? However, since the enchantment makes it impossible for the uninvited to cross the threshold, you will notice when you try bringing someone over. I don't want that to become a scene so I’d rather have you work with me.”
“How nice of you,” she muttered and turned back to the text.
It took her ten minutes to finish. Then, she looked up at him with a thoughtful expression. “Besides the fact that it takes blood to do it, it doesn't seem so dark.”
He snorted. “Well, what did you expect? That we needed to start killing babies to have a simple yet powerful protection enchantment? Not all Dark Arts are used to create misery, you know.”
“But it's not really created to spread happiness either,” she remarked.
“Neither is a Stunning Spell,” he retorted but then added thoughtfully, “except for the audience, of course.”
She rolled her eyes. “And there are no nasty side effects?”
“No. Well, I do have to pierce the skin to draw some blood. But other than a faint mark, there are no side effects,” he reassured her.
She was about to nod, but then she suddenly paused. “Wait. I'm pregnant.”
“I know. I made you pregnant.”
She rolled her eyes again. “No, I mean, do you know if anything can happen to the foetus? Or will he or she also be able to invite people over once born?”
He frowned. “I highly doubt anything would happen to the foetus since it’s your blood we’ll take. Also, since the blood of the mother and the child doesn’t truly mix, the baby won’t have that ability.”
“I guess you are right.” She glanced down at the text. “Well, we better get started then. The potion takes three hours to simmer.”
Voldemort smiled in victory. He was very pleased with her. This was yet another step she was taking in the right direction. Which meant towards his line of thinking. Oh, yes, she was turning out nicely indeed.
- 27
- 28
- 29
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

Shared Flame