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Yes, Minister	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 12940 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Special thanks to Lady Miya for looking over everything I had so far and giving me the confidence to continue since I had a huge freakout about this story and how it was progressing. I've not had a story come to me in such non-chronological order as this one before, which made me rather insecure about what to cut and what not. And how to fit it all together.
Thanks to everyone who read.
Yes, Minister

Chapter 3: Sacrifice

Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth as she stifled her scream of horror upon seeing the perfect stone statue of her daughter. However, her eyes quickly noticed the tube sticking out of the statue’s mouth, and she lowered her hands back to her thighs.

Rose wasn’t dead.

Her first thought was in relief.

Oh God, Rose wasn’t dead.

Her second thought not so much.

‘I apologise, my Lord, for removing my hands without permission.’

His hand stroked through her hair. ‘That’s alright, pet, you will compensate me for that slight, won’t you?’

‘Naturally, my Lord.’

‘You may refer to me as “Master”, too.’

‘Yes …’ Her voice briefly wavered.

Rose was here, alive. Rose was clever. There had to be a way. She had to think, had to keep her head in the game. She pushed her emotions down deep. Something she’d gotten good at after the war. Never show, never tell. Push it all down, like it was never there.

Master would be easy to say. It didn’t mean anything to her anyway. She would only have to keep the sarcasm from dripping into her voice. However, perhaps constant obedience wasn’t smart around him. He got easily bored. She decided upon a course.

‘My Lord.’

The smirk and his immediate turn away from her told Hermione she’d made the right choice. He flicked his wand. She blinked, noticing it was a different one in his hand now—no longer Rose’s—and definitely not an Ollivander wand if the construction of it were anything to go by.

Kiptanui, one of the greatest wandmakers in Kenya, if not the world. It was definitely one of his.

She’d met him once when she’d visited Kenya to learn all about their modern improvements to wizarding education by mingling it with Muggle science courses—something she was only halfway into the process of getting implemented at Hogwarts. The wandmaker had tutted at her wand in disapproval and handed her the one still attached to her leg as a gift. The difference in power had surprised her, and she’d ached to keep using it, but she couldn’t—being Minister and all—be seen with a foreign wand. Stupid chauvinism that would never get her re-elected with a wand from a wandmaker out of Africa of all places. The horror. It would be frontpage news for weeks on end.

Three fast, consecutive spells struck the statue. A crack formed, and another. Lord Voldemort slowly glided towards it, not noticing the pair of hate-filled eyes burning into his back. Slowly the stone around Rose crumbled to dust and the girl was unable to keep herself upwards. His pale hand shot out, grabbing her long, red, bushy hair, which was as completely soaked as was the rest of her. Her body crashed against his leg.

Hermione’s eyes flashed over daughter’s body. She couldn’t see her face due to all the protective coverings, but her clothes were drenched from sweat, and the skirt she’d been wearing when she’d left the house was gone. With Rose’s legs bent and slightly parted, Hermione witnessed the bloodstains on the inside of her thighs right underneath where her T-shirt covered up the undoubtedly ravaged state of her private parts. Her fury rose inside of her. Her magic whirled.

You’re dead, Voldemort. You don’t know it yet, but you will be.

No! She called herself out, squashing that rising power.

No emotions. Turn to stone yourself. Head clear. Reach Rose.

Voldemort walked around her daughter, pulling her on her knees to hold her tightly against him, obviously to terrorise them both. His dark eyes flickered over Hermione’s expressionless face, and then, he bent over Rose and started removing the coverings over her eyes first. Rose’s eyelashes fluttered before her eyes widened upon noticing her mother, sitting on her heels, naked, completely exposed with some weird kind of metal clasps on her body and a leash dangling from her throat. Rose’s body bucked, while her coughs rasped out of the tube, having made an attempt to speak. Voldemort was still bent over her, ignoring the distress coldly and continuing to remove a covering around her ear.

With Voldemort’s attention focused on those coverings, Hermione made eye contact with Rose to send a message, knowing she could reach her in this manner.

Rose, focus. Whatever you do, don’t make him lose interest in you.

She sensed Rose’s wildly stirring emotions and the confusion in her mind.

Oh no, Rose needed to keep a clear head. She’d be easy pickings if she let her emotions run freely.

Mum? Mum! What did he do to you?

Doesn’t matter, you hear me? Focus on yourself, nobody else. He will kill you in the most slow and horrific way to break me if you have no value to him.

Well, fuck.

It was somewhat of a relief to sense a sign of clarity coming back to Rose. She had to ease the mood.

Language, young lady.

Really, now Mum, language?

Hermione knew Voldemort had made some deal with Ron about Hugo. She wished she had the details of that, but Ron wasn’t daft. He was an excellent chess player. She just had to trust he’d not been too overcome with emotions to leave Voldemort a loophole when Hugo’s safety had been on the line. However, if Hugo were off the table, Rose would be in more danger.

Voldemort released the clamp on Rose’s nose. Hermione could tell he was enjoying how the girl leaned against him, how her nostrils flared uselessly with that tube still inside her throat. He'd deliberately left removing that for last deliberately. She wondered how many times his fingers had pinched the tube together to make Rose desperate for air.

No, Hermione. No emotions.

Her face turned blank just in time when Voldemort pulled Rose’s head all the way back while his eyes met Hermione’s. She never thought she would ever see that vicious glint hover right above Rose. She wished she could impart to Rose that she loved her, but Rose’s Occlumency was horrendous. Voldemort would use those words against Rose, twist her words to mean something else and manipulate Rose’s feelings.

No, she would not help him break her daughter.

Hermione steeled herself when his long fingers wrapped around the tube. She would not show anything. She had to trust she’d taught Rose enough to be able to care for herself or maybe finally show some of that famed Slytherin self preservation. But perhaps that only came with generational experience in that house?

As Hermione expected, he didn’t pull out the tube. He clenched it closed, staring right into her eyes.

She would give him nothing.

If her daughter died that way, it would be fast and painless.

Rose’s body started to buck against his legs. Hermione could feel the pressure rise in her mind as Voldemort pushed against her shields when her blank face gave him nothing.

Go ahead, kill her. You know you want to.

She let that cold thought slip through, egging him on. He gave her equally nothing back in his expression but took a deep breath and slipped his mouth over the tube, dark eyes focusing on Hermione as he forced Rose to breathe through him. As he repeated that process over and over, Hermione did not move. She did not take her eyes off him. She did not speak out, not even mentally anymore.

When he clenched the tube again, his mouth dropped to Rose’s ear and she saw his lips move but couldn’t hear what he was saying to her. Something manipulative undoubtedly. How her mother didn’t care if she lived or died. His focus went to Rose’s reddened, tearstained face. Hermione briefly dug her fingers into her thighs, allowing herself that emotion with his attention turned elsewhere.

Come on, Rose. Save yourself.

Her fingernails almost broke the skin when he abruptly yanked out the tube and threw the girl away from him, whirling around. Rose landed on her shoulder, her head hitting the floor, her shirt flying to her waist, showing her ripped underwear covered in blood. Not a cock in the world could accomplish that. Whatever it had been had gone straight through the fabric. Hermione worried about the blood still trickling out. Her whole being—her magic—ached to cast a Healing Charm. Rose’s body bucked as she coughed and spitted between deep gasps of air. Hermione’s eyes darted between Rose and Voldemort whose shoulders were moving with his sharp inhalations.

Ooooh, are we getting on your nerves?

She wished Rose would meet her eyes before he would turn back to them. She needed to know, but she couldn’t let him take advantage of that opening and break through her Occlumency shield. Once he was in, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get him out ever again.

Rose looked up. The icy hate was all Hermione needed to see.

That’s my girl.

I’m going to kill him. Slowly.

Good luck. He doesn’t do well against teenagers.

Hermione steeled her face and stopped her end of the conversation when she saw his robes move. Rose, however, wasn’t done fantasising yet.

I’m going to clamp off the blood flow to his cock, stick him in that stone prison of his, make it so it crushes the least vital parts of his body first at an agonising slow speed, and I’ll put a Muggle ventilator on that tube, set it on a rising pressure and sit back and enjoy when his lungs explode at the same time the stone crushes his chest to pieces.

Well, she supposed that was the kind of dark creativity Rose needed to show him.

Voldemort whirled around, his wand raised above his head and circling around. It sparked and crackled, forming a dark cloud. Hermione’s mind rapidly went over her large knowledge of Dark Arts curses but came up empty with this combination.

Maybe one of his creations?

Rose had scrambled to a seated position, her eyes wide at the storm forming above them, her legs sideways as she pulled her shirt down as far as possible. Hermione just eyed the casting, finding her lack of clothes the least of her worries.

Perhaps she’d pushed too many buttons?

When he slashed his wand around like a whip, Rose flinched and Hermione braced for impact. The cloud followed his lead and spewed all its might to her left, blowing up the white leather couch before spitting out a human form, wrestling with his bed covers.

Crap.

Hermione knew this would lead to serious complications when she recognised her husband’s signature moves upon being woken abruptly.

‘What? Hermione, I—’ Ron said drowsily, pulling his covers away from his head and facing Voldemort. ‘You!’

Voldemort tilted his head in amusement, pocketed his wand, and turned to Hermione. ‘Charming. I can’t—’

Ron’s wheeze filled the air when his eyes landed on his wife. With Voldemort’s attention so obviously focused on her, she didn’t dare signal Ron that there was another in the room whose presence had been conveniently blocked by the Dark Lord’s robes.

‘What the hell?!’ Ron shouted, struggling to get his legs out of the covers which were wrapped around him.

‘Must be such fun,’ Voldemort mocked, his eyes solely trained on her, ‘Does such clumsiness ever make you come, Mudblood?’

No, but she hadn't been able to come in years. Nothing to do with Ron, it hadn't worked with any other either. There was obviously something wrong with her.

‘Don’t call her that!’ Ron spewed, getting to his feet, his wand in hand.

Apparently his Auror training had been good for something. Normally. Not after a deal with the one he was now facing. There was bound to be an obedience clause somewhere.

Voldemort whirled around, snorting when he saw Ron had his wand pointed at him. ‘Has your teeny tiny brain forgotten you can’t cast anything at me?’

‘And what about your teeny tiny brain and the deal we made that you would leave my family alone for my cooperation. Forgot I attached an Unbreakable Vow to that?’

‘Oh, that’s not exactly how you worded it though, isn’t it, Ron Weasley? I have to say I was impressed at the thought you’d put behind it. There is no way I can ever harm or kill Hugo, but in your haste to make Hugo’s predicament stop, you forgot about the two people not present at the time.’

All colour drained from Ron’s face, and he looked past Voldemort to Hermione apologetically. ‘I—I—He Cruciated Hugo. I had to make it stop. I thought I ... I didn’t think.’ He rubbed his face.

Voldemort clearly drank in his pain, and she clenched her teeth, needing to wipe that satisfaction of that phoney handsome face. With Ron, she didn’t need eye contact as she did with Rose.

Don’t let him get to you like that. You know he loves it.

Ron blinked, his body stilling. Voldemort stiffened and turned around to her, the corner of his mouth curving upwards.

‘Here I thought you were only a Master Occlumens, Hermione Granger, but that’s an interesting way to communicate through Legilimency. Your invention, I presume.’

Fuck. Ron’s shields had been down.

He strode to her, ignoring the furious scream when Ron obviously noticed Rose. Ron’s curse ricocheted off Voldemort and struck Ron with full force straight through his quickly risen shield. He clutched his chest in agony and collapsed on the floor.

‘They always forget, don’t they, Hermione?’ Voldemort said smoothly, stopping in front of her, his robes brushing her bare legs. ‘They make vows and they stupidly try to break them.’

He couldn’t possibly know.

‘But I do know.’

Her shields! That brief stupidity of compassion had better not given him access. Her mind rushed over her defences, finding them all intact.

Dammit. She normally had a much better control over her expressions to not let someone simply lift her thoughts off her face. She steeled herself, determined to not show anymore emotions if she could help it.

Ron hollered, thrashing on the floor in pain, while Voldemort lifted her chin with one long, pale finger.

‘I have to say I rather enjoyed how you reacted to finding him fucking Lavender Brown. Have you ever figured out who sent you the owl about it?’

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. That was years ago. How long had he been back into their lives without them noticing?

‘Then again, you weren’t exactly faithful either, were you?’

His eyes fell on her fingernails digging into her thighs.

‘Some emotion after all? Have I struck a nerve, Minister?’

‘We have an understanding,’ she said between clenched teeth.

‘Does that understanding include cursing and Obliviating your husband and his lover?’ he mocked.

‘Well, there were people we agreed were off limits.’

‘Heal him now.’ Rose’s voice called out coolly, interrupting their conversation.

Slowly Voldemort turned around. He took in the teenager that had picked up Ron’s wand and was now holding it quite steadily pointed at him.

‘I reckon it will work for me,’ she added, her eyes sparking with contained rage.

‘Kill him!’ Hermione shouted.

‘And murder both your parents?’ Voldemort added, stepping aside so Rose would see her mother as the leash flew in his hand. ‘I wonder. You’ve delved into the Dark Arts quite a bit, little girl, but are you there yet?’

‘Heal him.’

Voldemort snapped his fingers, and Ron’s hollers stopped at once. Ron removed his hands from his chest, taking in the scene that was unfolding, his eyes wide at seeing his daughter have his wand aimed at the Dark Lord.

‘Kill him,’ Hermione repeated urgently.

Ron’s shocked expression at Hermione’s suggestion made Voldemort laugh. ‘Your father doesn’t think you’re capable. Your mother here does. I wonder who is going to be right.’

‘You know I killed Fletchley,’ Rose said coldly, making Ron stare at his daughter as if he’d never seen her before. Then his eyes flashed to Hermione’s unmoving expression at that, making him realise he was the only one in the room who hadn’t known that.

‘Ah yes, the fool from Hufflepuff,’ Voldemort said. ‘Fletchley’s lifeforce, however, wasn’t connected to anyone you cared about. Your parents, your friends ... ‘ he paused. ‘You’re going to kill a lot of people if you cast the Killing Curse, and none of them will be me.’

‘He lies,’ Hermione hissed.

‘Now, pet, do kindly shut up,’ Voldemort ordered, slashing the leash.

‘MUM!’ Rose yelled, taking a step towards them upon seeing her mother thrash on the floor.

‘Rose!’ Ron yelled warningly, holding up his arm.

Rose stepped back, realising how close she’d got to losing. She grinded her teeth in anger.

‘Stop it,’ she said, her furious eyes on Voldemort while almost breaking the wand in her hand from the pressure her fingers put on it.

‘Lower your wand or cast the Killing Curse, Rose,’ Voldemort said smoothly. ‘I’m going to continue this until her heart gives out if you don’t choose.’

‘Don’t lower your wand,’ Ron said immediately.

‘You enjoy seeing your wife suffer?’ Voldemort said, tilting his head at Ron.

Rose found it rather insulting he just ignored her.

‘Remember that time when James pushed Albus, Rose?’ Ron said.

Rose’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and she slashed the wand. Voldemort had already moved, causing her curse to slice through the one couch still remaining as its boomerang-like arc missed the Dark Lord. She swore loudly when he pulled up her mother and now held her body between himself and her.

‘Told you he lies,’ Hermione said breathlessly, her legs dangling as Voldemort had a tight hold on her throat and waist now. ‘Kill him.’

‘You’re in the way,’ Rose said hopelessly.

‘This is getting old,’ Voldemort said and tossed Hermione aside.

‘NO!’ Ron yelled, stepping between his daughter and Voldemort’s curse and collapsing to the ground with a grunt.

‘Dad!’ Rose yelled, diving out of the path of a second curse, and flashing her wand to Voldemort. ‘Expelliarmus!’

‘GET OUT!’ Hermione yelled while Voldemort tossed his head back in laughter, swatting away the charm like he was squashing a bug.

Rose tried to Apparate, but something blocked her attempt.

‘Did your uncle teach you that disarming nonsense? Come on, little Slytherin, do better,’ he taunted, wand flashing rapidly.

‘Protego!’ she yelled while rolling out of the path of multiple incoming spells. ‘Sectumsempra!’

Rose’s desperate eyes met her mother’s.

‘LEAVE, DAMN IT!’

Upon seeing the fury on her mother’s face, Rose flew to the door. One of Voldemort’s curses sliced her shoulder. Her blood splattered around, but she didn’t stop. She sensed the telltale signs of her mother’s dark magic rising and wasn’t going to sit around for that. She grabbed the doorknob and was surprised when it opened. She rushed out. Looking over her shoulder, she just saw Voldemort turning to watch her mother rise to her feet, hair crackling while darkness swirled around her. Rose noted he had his wand aimed and pointed at her mother now, so the bastard wasn’t that sure his precautions would be effective enough.

‘GO TO HARRY, DON’T TRUST ANYONE ELSE!’ Hermione added before the door shut between them.

Get him, Mum.

‘Well, well, well,’ Voldemort said, pleased. ‘Such darkness. I’d be appalled if I hadn’t already seen you in action before, Minister.’

‘That’s nice. Do fill in a complaint form at the front desk,’ Hermione said, stepping sideways, yanking the wand off her leg.

The power rush it gave her was tremendous. She noticed the upwards curve of his brow and the sudden cautiousness that slipped into his battle stance. He’d not known it was there. That was a surprise.

‘You can block the door all you want,’ Voldemort said, following her moves, guessing correctly why she stepped that way. ‘She’s not going anywhere and neither are you.’

He didn’t sound so arrogant and certain anymore, Hermione noted.

‘I may not go anywhere, but she sure as hell is.’

‘As impressive as this display of dark magic is, we both know it’s futile.’

‘Is it now?’ Hermione said, tilting her head in a mocking copy of his move. ‘I’m not on my knees, am I? Forgot to factor in that dark magic loves disobedience?’

His jaw clenched.

Oh yeah, he’d forgotten.

Still, she could feel the burn of the magical chains on her skin. He might’ve forgotten, but she knew it didn’t matter. The dark magic binding her to do his bidding was too strong for her to break. It caused her all her willpower to stay standing. She figured if he hadn’t let go off the leash, she would’ve been on her knees now. It took all her mental capacity to ignore the horrific pain shooting through her body. But she was ready to pay that price. She figured she might get off one spell before the magic incarcerating her would fully incapacitate her, but she actually doubted that she could cast anything substantial. She just needed to keep him talking to buy Rose time to leave. She just needed to keep him doubting about the leverage he had over her.

‘You know what’s funny?’ Ron spoke up.

His hands pressed on his belly, blood sipping through his fingers while he already lay in such a large pool of his blood that he had to be on the verge of passing out. Hermione briefly met his eyes as she kept Voldemort in the corner of her eye. A familiar understanding got shared between husband and wife, between old friends. He knew she couldn’t cast or she’d done it already. He knew she was buying Rose time.

‘That you’re almost dead?’ Voldemort said, not taking his eyes of Hermione. ‘He could still be saved, you know.’

‘We all die someday,’ Ron interrupted.

‘Not me.’

‘That’s your delusional obsession. Striving after it will be what gets you killed.’

‘I know you’re not daring to cast any Healing Charms,’ Voldemort continued, ignoring Ron. ‘With that kind of uncontrollable darkness it definitely would end badly for your husband.’

He waved his wand at Ron, slowing the bleeding.

‘I could make it stop fully.’

Ron snorted. ‘Don’t listen to him, Hermione.’

‘I could heal him.’

‘Could,’ Ron said, laughing bitterly, ‘as in won’t. Always the word games. Don’t you get tired of it, Riddle?’

Voldemort turned slightly to him. ‘Don’t you Gryffindors ever tire of self-sacrificing moves?’

Ron hoisted his shoulders and let out an uncaring ‘meh’.

‘You’d have Lord Voldemort’s word that he will be healed fully,’ he said, watching Hermione’s pupils dart between him and Ron.

‘He lies, remember. You said so yourself.’

Healing Ron would take some time. If she didn’t agree to this, she could tell he’d come into action and her play would be over within seconds.

‘Alright,’ she said, pretending to ignore Ron’s outcry. ‘I’ll surrender after he’s healed.’

‘Again, with my name added,’ Voldemort said coolly.

‘I’ll surrender to Lord Voldemort after Ron’s fully healed.’

She almost let out a relieved sigh when he turned to Ron. Sweat was prickling on her brow. Her muscles had an invisible tremor that soon would be an uncontrollable outward display. Her physical state would be telling him she’d been bluffing any moment now. If she could get Ron healed before that …

Well, she’d take any win she could get by now.

Hopefully Rose had vacated the premises already.

Lord Voldemort swirled his wand around, lifting Ron ever so slightly into the air. A circle of light shifting in colours began gliding up and down Ron’s body. Ron’s blood stirred at first, bubbling before lifting off the ground and moving back through his fingers into his belly. Colour slowly returned to his skin. Her hands and knees were trembling now, but she was still standing and Voldemort was absorbed in his casting. It was something she could admire. The way he would emerge himself into magic fully and make it do his bidding was a sight to behold.

A fucking waste he spent it on such insignificant, foolish goals.

When Voldemort was done, he lowered Ron and shackled his body to the floor before he turned to her, his dark eyes gliding over her body appreciatively. There was something in his gaze that was too knowingly. She dropped her wand and was about to go to her knees when he held up his hand.

‘No,’ he ordered, ‘stay standing.’

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to for much longer.

He glided towards her in one sinuous move. The back of his fingers stroked away her perspiration on her forehead before cupping her cheek.

‘Twenty two minutes and forty seconds,’ he whispered, taking in the constant shivering all over her body. ‘The pain you’re experiencing right now will be nothing compared with what’s to come next, but I suppose that will do as your punishment for thinking you could fool Lord Voldemort, Hermione.’

The way her name slid off his tongue felt like a lover’s caress. The hand cupping her cheek disappeared into her hair, gripping her locks tightly. He leaned in, tilting her head and then his mouth was on hers, demanding access. She didn’t fight it. She allowed his mouth, his lips, and his tongue to claim her. Her arms hang limply by her sides as he pulled her flush against his body, deepening his kiss further. Her breasts pressed against his torso. Her legs decided the pain was too much and gave way, but he held her trembling body against him. His arousal was ever so evidently present as the strength of his hold. There was an aching need rising inside of her. His hands were only in her hair and on her back, but his magic was everywhere and it was overwhelming her.

His magic touched her all over, not asking but taking. She sensed it gliding over her body, investigating every inch of her and leaving nothing untouched. It was stroke after stroke after stroke. Such a gentle caress it felt uncharacteristic if it hadn’t been for her complete lack of consent. If it hadn’t been for her mind and body screaming in pain at the same time. She moaned into his mouth when it struck her clit. It slithered around the nervebundle’s pathways inside, caressing her unlike ever before. It had her walls clenching and the ache of her emptiness grew. His magic kept a relentless pace—stroke after stroke after stroke activated her clit. She was going to combust. With the same force he’d been attacking her clit, his magic swirled inside of her core like smoke with substance. It forced itself into her womb, coating every inch. A cramp not a far cry of her period had her whimper and she could feel his smile against her mouth. He pulled her head back roughly, breaking off their kiss.

‘Such a good little Mudslut, getting all wet for her Master,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘If you were to compare your pain right now to the Cruciatus, which I know for a fact you’ve had some excellent experience with, how would you rate it?’

‘Worse,’ she breathed.

‘Good,’ he practically purred. ‘I’ll be right back with your daughter. She’ll love this.’

He suddenly let go, watching her crash to the ground. He withdrew his magic, and without those pleasurable stimuli, she began thrashing and screaming.

‘Enjoyed the view, Weasley?’ he taunted.

‘You know I never took you for a rapist,’ Ron said, ‘But I suppose there’s nothing disgusting you won’t stoop to.’

‘Hmm…’ Voldemort said, ‘she was parched for some proper male attention, Weasley. But perhaps you think you can ease her pain better.’

He casually gestured at Ron’s shackles and they sprung loose.

‘Make the most of it,’ he taunted. ‘When I come back with your daughter, you wouldn’t want her to run into you two coupling, right?’

He swirled out the door. Ron quickly rolled over and raced to Hermione, dropping on his knees and grabbing her arm with both hands. The metal band on her wrist glowed stronger.

‘Hermione!’

She screamed and thrashed even harder. Tears streamed down her face.

‘Ron!’ she yelled. ‘Oh God. Make it stop!’

‘Hermione,’ he said, looking confused. ‘I don’t know how. What do you need?’

‘You.’

‘I don’t know the counter curse.’

‘Fuck me,’ Hermione yelled, desperate. ‘Holy shit, I’m going to lose it.’

Ron stared down at his thrashing wife. Fuck her? Like this? He—He couldn’t.

‘Please, please, please.’

He wasn’t even sure who she was begging to. She’d never begged at him before, and he would’ve preferred to keep it that way. Their marriage was calm, with a mutual understanding. They had casual sex partners on the side, but nothing lasting. Nothing violent or untoward. He liked it that way. Her arm flung from his hold when she began seizing. Her back lifted off the ground in an impossible arch.

‘Hermione!’ he yelled, quickly moving his hand between her legs. ‘I’ll do it. Stay with me.’

He found her soaking wet there, knowing he wasn’t the one who’d caused that. The disgust that made him feel he ignored and he used her arousal to rub her clit as he knew she liked, watching her for signs of improvement. At first he thought it did nothing, but then, her seizure stopped. Her back landed on the ground. She still thrashed and screamed, but that absurd tension of her body had gone.

‘Inside, inside, inside,’ she muttered between screams, eyes unseeing, arms and legs flailing.

No, not like this.

He was horrified. She couldn’t consent like this. He’d be what he’d accused Voldemort of. He tried connecting with her mind like she’d taught him, but it was a mess in there, nothing but flards of memories and thoughts. None made sense. He had to flee her brain before she would draw him into madness. He was losing her. He couldn’t lose her.

He looked down at his utterly flaccid member. Merlin’s pants, how could he possibly get it up under these circumstances?

‘Inside, inside, inside,’ Hermione repeated.

‘Working on it,’ he said, shifting his thumb to work her clit while pumping his fingers inside of her. First one, then two, and soon he had all four in there.

Maybe that would be enough?

Hopefully that would be enough. He unbuttoned his pyjama’s trousers and stroked his cock with his other hand, but it was difficult getting it to react with all the worry and disgust he felt inside of what he would have to do. Abruptly, her hand smacked his chest. A spark of dark magic electrified him, making him grow hard in a flash, so hard it was utterly painful. He recognised the illegal curse. He’d arrested two witches for using it on unsuspecting victims, but his wife wasn’t of sound mind right now. It was probably Voldemort making her do this.

Yes, it was him. Hermione would never ...

‘Ron,’ she whimpered. ‘Please.’

That was consent, wasn’t it?

He had some trouble getting between her thrashing legs, but eventually he managed to lift her arse up and pushed himself slowly inside of her sex. She was clenching her walls so hard that he worried she would snap his cock in half. He went in and out carefully, watching her deteriorate rapidly.

‘Harder.’

‘Easier said than done, Hermione,’ he uttered. ‘You’re so damn tight now.’

He tried to move faster but his cock felt like it was fucking sandpaper. It didn’t just hurt him down there. The pain seemingly spread from his cock into his body. He wondered if her pain was transported to him. If that was why Voldemort had suggested he’d fuck his wife. Somehow he didn’t seem the sharing type to Ron. He looked down as he exited Hermione, noticing the raw and angry appearance of his cock. The blood that trickled down on the side of it.

This is going to kill me.

He took one look at the woman thrashing underneath him.

For better or worse.

In sickness and in health.

He slammed inside of her, taking a deep breath at the stab of pain that travelled from his cock all the way up his heart.

‘Give it to me, Hermione,’ he whispered, thrusting in and out of her hard. ‘I forgot about you.’

He ignored the pain whirling inside his belly.

‘I forgot about Rose.’

The pain inside of him kept growing exponentially. Hermione’s thrashing lessened. The pain moved up his chest, like a sharp stab with every breath he took. His movements became erratic. His blue eyes suddenly saw her staring up at him in horror. Her sanity was the best gift he’d ever been given.

‘Get on top of me,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I can last much longer like this.’

‘What have you done? Get off me.’

‘No,’ Ron said, grabbing her hair and pulling her with him as he fell backwards. ‘Ride me. Do it fast.’

‘Ron, you’ll...’ She couldn’t finish her sentence.

‘I know,’ he said, resigning. ‘If I die, Hugo is still safe. You’re the only chance Rose has.’

‘She could be miles away already.’

‘He knew you weren’t a threat to him, and he didn’t move to get her first.’

‘Just get off of me now. We could both live.’

‘It will just flare up in both of us if we don’t finish. I know you can sense that, too. She’s not free, Hermione. I need you to live. And I don’t want you having to depend on his cock to rescue you.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘He’ll make Rose watch when he takes you.’

‘He might do that anyway,’ Hermione said, moving her hips which made Ron sigh in relief before cringing in pain.

‘I have no leverage, Ron.’

‘You’ll think of something. You always do. You’re brilliant.’

Hermione’s tears started to flow while Ron’s arms and legs started to thrash.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, moving her hips faster and faster, needing this to be over as soon as possible. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

He screamed now and she wasn’t sure she got through to him anymore. She wasn’t sure if he even knew what caused his pain or that she was riding him to death. When his heart failed and his arms and legs fell flat, he was still hard inside of her, erect by her need, her pain, her desire. She felt disgusted with herself as she kept on going, needing a release so badly her life depended on it. Her finger slid between them and she rubbed her clit raw.

Come on. Please, just this once, work. Please, have this be done before he’s back. Please.

There was a sudden burst of familiar, powerful magic all around her. Its dark sensation had her swaying in its hold, until it struck her clit violently. Her core cramped. She tossed her head back, closed her eyes, and let out a sigh of relief, feeling her orgasm rush through her from head to toe. Years she’d gone without. How had she managed? Her climax flushed out all her remaining aches and pains. Her mind cleared fully. She actually never felt better, until she opened her eyes and saw her dead husband. Freaking out, she disconnected from his still hard cock and dropped to the side, vomiting up yellowish bile and spit.

‘Ron, oh Ron, you brave fool, you kind man,’ she whispered, crawling to his head and kissing his forehead in tears.

She tried buttoning up his trousers to cover him up, but it would just slip through the holes between the buttons. In the end she had to settle for removing his shirt and putting it over his cock to give him some dignity. She sat beside him for how long she didn’t know. When she heard the click indicating the door was about to open, she whirled to her knees, quickly wiping her face with the back of her hands, spreading her legs wide and placing her hands on her knees, head bent, eyes downcast.

She wasn’t about to give him another reason.

Not after Ron’s sacrifice.
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Yes, Minister