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A Mudblood's Revenge	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 5844 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from Harry Potter created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

Chapter List
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Special thanks to my beta: Wee-Red-Vixen, and thanks to everyone who read and reviewed.
A Mudblood's Revenge
She watched him pocket it in his right trouser leg, making a mental note of it. One day, she would get that stick of his and push it up his arse before setting it ablaze.
Chapter 3: The Dark Lord's Meeting
She had no idea how long she was stuck in that cage, folded up. Her back was killing her. Her legs and arms cramped severely. She couldn't recall if Ginny'd said anything about how people were brought before the Dark Lord. If it were in this cage, she was screwed. She couldn't do anything to get his attention then.
Also, if she got stuck any longer in this cage, she feared she wouldn't have any functioning limbs left, and again, that would pose a problem getting his attention as in not being like anyone else brought before him. If she was just flailing on the floor, well, knowing him, that wouldn't be something that stuck out—probably a bore even. She rubbed her arms and legs, attempting to keep her blood flowing to her numb limbs.
Damn, now she realised why Snape had tried to bring her in the other way.
Come on, Hermione, think. What did Ginny tell you?
Ginny hadn't been in one of these. She knew that much. Because the Dark Lord had kept her away from all the others, isolated, as he'd forced her to perform in front of his followers like a puppet on a string. He'd wanted her back, so he must've liked the complete control he'd had of her. Hermione knew she was no pureblood like Ginny, but she also knew the biggest hypocrite in the room was the one in charge. She'd had an idea beforehand, but wasn't sure she could still execute it properly.
Suddenly the wall rose.
'Bring in the entertainment,' that high-pitched voice said to a lot of cheers.
Hermione's neighbour winced. Several of them were now crying. This had to be her opportunity. Cages opened one by one.
Only the old arrivals's cages opened, Hermione noted, watching them crawl across the floor to their respective masters or mistresses.
Well, crawling was out. That wouldn't get her noticed.
The older Muggleborns were already in action, pleasuring whoever they belonged to. The difference between them and the new arrivals was stark. Hermione watched as the first of those cages opened, the wide frightened pupils and the absolute reluctance to get out an obvious clue. The little witch, who Hermione was certain couldn't be more than ten or eleven years of age, clawed at the bars and kicked Evan in the face, trying to stay inside. He had a really difficult time dragging the girl out as the Death Eaters in the room laughed and jeered at his inability to gain control over a child. Hermione glanced at the total disinterest of the Dark Lord, sitting on a high-backed, throne like chair on a platform.
Bit over the top much?
His snakelike face didn't seem interested in the spectacle to his right at all. He stared for a moment at his fingertips before glancing out the window in obvious boredom, not even bothering to look at the girl as Evan tossed her at his feet.
Okay, getting his attention may be a bigger problem than I anticipated.
'Anyone interested in it?' he said with a drawl.
Several hands went excitedly up into the air like they were in a classroom. It was like seeing herself whenever a teacher asked a question, but the gruesome version of it. Hermione couldn't resist the snort that came out her mouth at the ridiculousness of it. Immediately she felt his gaze burn upon her; it had a profoundly tactile quality.
This was her chance.
Hermione twisted her arms and legs in order to meet that gaze dead on, then shrugged with an exaggerated eye roll.
She didn't know why she shrugged or dared roll her eyes. She just had the feeling she should.
The boredom was gone in that alien face of his. While he gestured to one of his Death Eaters to take the child, he kept his eyes on her as he sat up straight and spoke,
'That one, Evan.'
Hermione quickly made sure to position herself, so when the lock clicked open, she was able to leave under her own power and not be dragged out. Evan didn't reach her cage before she'd already got to her feet, using the cage as a crutch as she tested her limbs. Relieved she realised moving was not going to be too much trouble, despite having been stuck in cramped quarters. He grabbed her arm and pulled her along. She stumbled the first two steps, but then, she hooked her foot on his ankle, cast a wandless Slipping Hex on him, yanked her arm free, and watched him plummet to the ground. Loud laughter erupted all around her. It was clear Evan wasn't winning any popularity prizes with this crowd. She sidestepped the furious wizard scrambling and failing to get up, leaving him behind as she walked up to the wizard eyeing her intently from his throne.
There was no doubt in her mind Lord Voldemort had noticed her secretive wandless casting even if none of his Death Eaters had, but he'd not reacted to it—probably to wait and see if she dared go a step further.
Would he know who she was already? He'd been in Harry's mind often enough to have had a shot at seeing her, but would he know her significance? That was the multimillion Galleon question.
He suddenly snapped his long spidery fingers, and her shoulders shook when she heard someone slide away right behind her to a loud roar of laughter from the Death Eaters. She didn't break eye contact with Lord Voldemort, but through the mirroring effect in the windows behind him, she did see Evan with that stick of his in hand—clearly having intended to strike her—hit the cage she'd come out of with a hard thud. It was rather satisfactory. She couldn't withhold that small smile her expression always sported when people she loathed got hurt.
It was even more satisfactory when the fool accidentally activated the stick while lying against the cage himself.
One of the Death Eaters got up and cheered, 'Need some help there, Evan?'
'Kick him in,' another suggested.
'He's useless anyway.'
'Just another Mudblood.'
Hermione blinked, surprised at hearing that the wizard who'd tortured them was Muggle-born. How could he even…?
'I'll do it,' Lestrange cackled, caressing her wand.
Evan's screams filled the room as he was forced into the far too tiny cage for his size. Hermione heard his bones audibly snap and did her utmost best to keep her face blank and unmoving.
'There, nicely wrapped for anyone enjoying a puzzle to reassemble at will,' Bella cackled, turning around and taking a bow to the cheering audience, but pouting when she noticed her Lord's eyes weren't on her but on another witch.
A Mudblood witch who stood tall, wearing her nudity like armour, and now had come to a halt before Lord Voldemort's throne and sank to her knees. Holding their eye contact for as long as possible, Hermione bent forward until her forehead came to rest on the ground and she could go no lower.
It had gone completely and utterly silent in the large ballroom. The tension was palpable when Lord Voldemort rose to his feet, stepped off the platform and circled the young witch on the ground. Hermione realised he'd drawn his wand when Bellatrix started to cackle. Yet, she stayed utterly still, breathing in carefully.
'Severus,' Voldemort said ever so quietly.
'Yes, my Lord.'
She hadn't seen her Potions Professor at the table but he was closer than she'd expected.
'Is this the gift you brought me?'
'I do sincerely apologise, my Lord, but there was no getting to Ginny Weasley without the entire Order realising my true allegiances and apprehending me. She's under heavy surveillance.'
'I see, and Potter's Mudblood was not?' There was a lilt to his voice now that caused Hermione some concern for Snape's safety.
Then again, he'd left her alone with Macnair, so frankly, she couldn't care less.
'I don't believe Albus cares much for the girl. She asks too many obnoxiously inconvenient questions.'
Well, thank you, Professor. That was clever.
She would make sure to speak nice words at his elegy.
'And you think I would condone this?'
Hermione frowned, having no idea what Lord Voldemort meant.
'My Lord, I informed Macnair she was to be yours.'
Oh.
'Bella, get Walden in here.'
'Yes, my Lord,' Bellatrix said with a lot of enthusiasm.
'Why bother?' Hermione spoke up on a whim, unmoving.
The silence returned.
'It dares speak to its superiors!' Bella shrieked, shutting up when Voldemort raised his hand. 'Walden, Bella.'
'Well, Mudblood,' Voldemort continued mockingly, 'Entertain us with your obnoxiously inconvenient insight.'
Hermione ignored the laughter, the door opening and closing, and merely said, 'He knew full well Macnair would never think you'd touch a Muggle-born witch yourself.'
'My Lord,' Snape started.
'No, Severus,' Voldemort interrupted quietly. 'I think the Mudblood has a point there, wouldn't you say so? Walden probably assumed he'd be fine taking liberties with her.'
Snape was deadly silent.
'And you didn't make sure she'd remain—' The door opened and closed again with a loud thud. 'Ah, Walden, so nice of you to join us,' Voldemort said in a sudden cheerful tone of voice. 'I'm just admiring your handiwork here. That's quite a lot of cursed knife wounds you left on what wasn't yours to touch.'
Hermione wished she could see Macnair's face now. The utter bafflement his expression would undoubtedly have.
'It's a Mudblood, my Lord.'
'You don't say.'
Hermione felt the swirl of his robes against her sides before he stopped in front of her head. All her muscles tensed as the air felt about to explode, magic rolling over her, extremely dark magic. So much dark magic it sank its teeth into her skin, tainting her through its mere presence as it whirled around inside her mind, drowning her, suffocating her in his power.
'Bella, if you please,' he added quietly as if he just couldn't be bothered to lift his wand himself.
'Crucio!' Bellatrix cast, laughing.
Macnair's screams filled the room. She couldn't say it didn't delight her. She just wished it were her causing his pain instead of Lestrange.
A dark halo enveloped her. His fingers gripped her chin, fingernails digging into her flesh, as he tilted her head up, making sure her eyes connected with his penetrating gaze. She noted he'd squatted down right in front of her, quite limber for such an old man.
'So, Potter's Mudblood, before I pass you around to every single wizard in this room and make sure your precious Harry sees all of what they will do to you—'
Hermione swallowed.
'—What do you have to say for yourself?'
'Pass me around those useless idiots?' she said, daring an eye roll before staring straight back into his dark slits for pupils and that red gaze around it. 'How utterly predictable and uncreative.'
Is that your precious insight? That they're morons? Tell Lord Voldemort something he doesn't already know, silly little Mudblood.
Hermione blinked several times, realising he'd not spoken that out loud but had said it in her mind. Could she respond in that manner?
Not something you wish to share with your morons? she thought, realising at the quirk of his mouth that she'd got through. What do you prefer, morons or traitors? I personally prefer morons. Even though they're a nuisance, they know not what they do. But traitors, there's a special circle in hell for them.
She felt the push in her mind this time, because he was making an effort, and she slammed down her Occlumency walls. Sweat broke on her brow. Her whole body swayed as the pressure in her mind grew and grew and grew. Her eyelids flickered rapidly; her throat bopped. A chill ran down her spine. So cold, everything got so cold.
Abruptly, he let go and rose.
Hermione steadied herself on her hands, breathing in deeply, shaking relentlessly from that attack on her mind. She wasn't sure she would last another.
'You're here to warn me about a traitor?' He spoke out loud now with a certain amusement lacing the tone of his voice that Hermione found quite understandable.
'I'm done with them. I'm done with the Order. I'm done with Albus Dumbledore,' she hissed the Headmaster's name with a venomous hatred as she rose to sit on her feet.
'And I'm supposed to believe you'll betray your precious Potter?' Voldemort asked with a smirk before looking over her kneeling figure. 'Bella, that's enough already. He's of no use if he turns catatonic.' He gestured dismissively with his hand in the direction of the door, and two bulky wizards picked up Macnair and dragged him away.
'I'll never betray Harry.'
Voldemort leaned in so close she could feel his breath on her face. 'Then I suppose the real question here is who would you betray, Mudblood?'
'Your loyal servant over there,' she said quietly, her eyes gesturing to Snape.
'Ah, yes, of course you'd think he works for Dumbledore. He's an extremely good double agent.'
'So he told you about the Sword of Gryffindor hidden on my back,' Hermione said, watching Voldemort's pupils dilate.
With a crack, Snape Disapparated.
Voldemort's wand was out in a flash and swooshed. Black tendrils shot out in every direction.
'All of you go find him! Alive! NOW!' he ordered, getting everyone there in motion. 'He can't be off the grounds yet. The wards don't allow it.'
Multiple cracks of Apparition followed.
'To your cages, Mudbloods,' Voldemort said, swiping them all to the other room with a simple wave of his hand.
The wall closed up, and suddenly, Hermione found herself all alone on her knees before the most fearsome wizard of all time. Voldemort circled her once more, a cast spell swirling around her, burning her skin wherever it went. Her jaw clenched. She wasn't about to scream. She wouldn't scream. The burning sensation ended at her feet.
'Well hidden indeed. The old coot, I presume.'
Hermione merely nodded her head, not sure she could open her jaws yet without screaming her lungs out.
'Where did he put it?'
Couldn't have asked that a second ago?
She unclenched her jaw, looked up and said, 'My back along my spine.'
'Bend forward.'
Hermione complied, placing her hands on the ground before her. She jolted when his fingertips trailed over her spine. Goosebumps erupted on her arms as his magical caress gave off a sensation her mind couldn't quite place. Then he reached the back of her neck again and spread his fingers. Her screams filled the room as he clawed her back open along her spine. A cast curse had her thrashing on her belly on the floor. Her skin ripped open, and tendons tore. She could feel the pull on her vertebra, the bones misaligning.
By Godric, he's going to try to get the sword by ripping out my spine.
'That's not going to work!' she yelled, panicking, between her pain filled screams.
Then the pain was gone, and her body stilled. She couldn't move anymore, but why could she breathe? If he'd ripped out her spine, and she was pretty certain that had just happened even though she couldn't see or feel it, she should be dead. Her lungs shouldn't be able to function without getting signals from her brain to inhale or exhale.
A scream of frustration sounded above her.
Well, I said it wasn't going to work, she thought snidely.
The moment her spine was reconnected, the pain returned with a vengeance and had her thrashing on the ground again. She clawed on the floor, breaking off her nails until her fingers bled. The pain wasn't immediately gone after she'd been fully healed. Somehow it lingered, had her muscles trembling without a conscious thought of her own and burned through her brain, eliciting wails from her lips unlike any she'd ever produced until his hand fell on her neck.
'Quiet down, Mudblood,' he snarled, pushing his magic inside of her.
A dark blanket wrapped around the burning pain, discomfort and uncontrollable shivers, pushing away the looming tears that threatened to fall. She stilled, held quiet by his mere touch. She'd never encountered anyone quite like this, who could generate such feelings inside of her, who could hold her under control with a mere brush of his fingertips.
'So responsive,' he whispered, a finger playing with one of her curls. 'I wonder…'
His fingers dropped her curl and suddenly slid through her folds and found her oh so wet down there. Heat rose from her chest all the way to her cheeks in embarrassment.
'Is it the pain you enjoy, Mudblood?"
Hermione shook her head, feeling unable to utter a word.
'I beg to differ,' he countered, sliding once more through her folds before dipping his finger into her vagina.
His curving motion had her walls clench around his finger. Her belly muscles contracted, aching for more. She needed so much more. When he pulled out, she whimpered, making him chuckle in delight.
'Such a deliciously tight little Mudcunt you have, getting aroused by your Master's mere presence. Here, have a taste of the proof yourself,' he said smoothly, forcing his finger into her mouth.
Hermione spluttered, feeling this was an entirely unfair advantage. Surely he'd used some kind of sick curse on her to make her feel this way.
'Suck it off, Mudslut, or I'll do worse to you than rip out your spine.'
Swallowing, she complied, catching his gaze while making a show of licking his finger clean.
'Oooh, you're going to be a handful, aren't you?' he laughingly taunted, his hand trailing down her throat and wrapping his fingers around it.
He squeezed a little bit, keeping their eye contact expectantly as he cut off her oxygen supply in such a manner it would make for a slow death if he didn't let loose. Hermione licked her lips, staring at him, feeling caught, captured and owned. She didn't move her arms, didn't claw at his hands to let go. She just lay there, as she slowly sank further and further into that dark mist till solely those red eyes remained for her to focus on. When he finally let go, she gasped in ragged short breaths of air as he stepped away, looking at her contemplatively.
'Pull out the sword,' he ordered, his wand twirling between his long spidery fingers.
Bemused, Hermione looked at him, then realised he'd given up on trying to get it off of her himself. She slowly moved to a seated position, twisted her elbow to reach just above her neck with her hand. Her fingertips just skimmed the edge of the handle. She struggled for a bit before realising she wouldn't be able to reach it properly in this position.
She looked up at him, and asked demurely, 'May I stand up, my Lord?'
The brief upwards curve of the corner of his mouth and that pleased glint in his eyes did strange things to her stomach that she wasn't about to analyse. His wandhand moved in an upward curl, effectively allowing it.
However, it didn't escape Hermione's notice that the wand in his hand was no longer held as loosely as before. Careful not to make any sudden moves or get too close to him, she rose on her feet, and moved her hand back down her neck, her other hand pressing on her elbow to move lower. She could feel the handle now. Her fingers curved almost around the grip but seemed to slip. Hermione breathed in deeply, her face turning red from the exertion as she bent forward and backward, losing sight of Voldemort while trying to get the damn thing.
Why the fuck couldn't she get it out?
She'd been able to reach it properly and pull it out many times on 12 Grimmauld Place. Maybe it was from all the strain on her muscles this evening? She pressed harder on her elbow, forcing her arm down painfully far. Elation bloomed in her chest when her fingers finally curved around the handle properly. She pulled up her arm, expecting to hold the sword above her head.
When her fingers felt empty, her eyes looked up in confusion. Her eyes darted to Voldemort's face, his expression utterly blank.
'I had it,' she said aghast. 'I felt it in my hand.'
She bent backwards once more, struggling even harder to get a hold of the damn sword when outright, annoying laughter reached her eardrums. She snapped up, her back ramrod straight.
'What?' she snapped, thoroughly irritated by him laughing at her.
He clearly had an answer to her struggle, and instead of supplying her with the solution, he was just mocking her.
'This is why you don't allow wizards more powerful than yourself to cast charms on you, little Mudblood,' he said demeaningly.
Her heart sank. She couldn't reach it because something else had been done to her?
Without her fucking permission!
Furious, her eyes sparkled.
'What did he do to me?'
'I can't be a hundred percent certain since the ancient magic of the sword doesn't allow me to see it,' Voldemort said, gliding towards her smoothly.
'Your amazingly educated guess then.'
'Ah, there's that sharp tongue I heard Severus complain about over and over again.'
Hermione froze when he pulled her tightly into his arms. Her heart picked up speed again, and she could feel it thrumming all the way to her sex.
'That's not an answer.'
'Indeed, it is not.' His eyes glinted as his fingers dug into her curls, cupping the back of her head. 'However, if I were to send someone to my enemy, uncertain of their allegiance, I'd make sure they could only get a hold of the priceless weapon I sent with them if they actually planned to use it to murder them.'
'That piece of shi—'
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A Mudblood's Revenge