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
- 29
- 30
- 31
New chapter! Lots of thanks to Nerys and Shan84 for betaing and lots of thanks to everyone of you who have read and reviewed. I'm also borrowing a bit more than just JK's characters in this chapter, but it fitted so well! You'll see what sentence I mean.

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Chapter 29

Hermione was exhausted when she sat down on the couch in Luna’s flat. Ginny looked equally tired as she sat down next to her. They had just finished the rehearsal for the wedding and all of the standing up and walking around gave Hermione a backache. She was secretly happy that the whole thing would be over the very next day. With everything else that was going on in her life like being pregnant, school, researching about Shared Flame and Althea, she did not need the extra stress this wedding gave her. She was not looking forward having to do this again in nine months time for her own wedding.

“What do you want to drink, Hermione?” Angelina asked. She and Luna were in charge of the hen night they were about to endure. Thankfully, not much was required from Hermione. Since Ginny was pregnant and not faring too well, they had decided that the hen night would only involve a few close friends at Luna’s place.

“Just water, please,” Hermione said, leaning her head back against the cushion, very thankful for the softness of the couch. The chairs at the reception had been exceptionally uncomfortable.

“The same for me as well please,” Ginny said, sounding as tired as Hermione felt. “With some ice, if you have it.”

“Right away.” Angelina disappeared into the kitchen.

Luna’s flat, which she shared with her girlfriend, was much bigger than Hermione and Voldemort’s. The shelves held some rather unique objects, and the living room was without a doubt the most colourful room Hermione had ever seen. One wall was covered with both wizard and Muggle photos of different people and objects. In the middle of the wall was a painted picture featuring Luna and her girlfriend together. On the frame around it, the word “love” was written several times in small blue letters.

“You should have warned me about the constant need to pee,” Ginny complained, placing her hands on her belly.

“Sorry,” Hermione said with a snort. “I forgot. It will be worth it in the end, though.”

“You better be right about that,” Ginny muttered.

“Say cheese!” A flash made Hermione blink, and when she could see again, she saw the Captain of Ginny’s Quidditch team grin at them before she attacked some other women with her camera.

Most of the women were Quidditch players. Only Hermione, Luna and her girlfriend Sahara weren’t. Hermione didn’t mind though, she was too tired to engage in long conversations and was satisfied just listening to the other women talk. It actually felt like old times; at Hogwarts she had always listened to Harry and Ron’s constant chatter about the sport.

She felt a sting of pain as she thought about Ron. He had been released from St. Mungo’s about a week ago, no longer under any magical influence. She had seen him the day before, as a test to make sure he was actually cured. Since he hadn’t tried to hurt her or her child in any way, they were all confident that the he was indeed cured.

“What has got you so blue, Hermione?” Ginny asked, nudging her with a finger.

Hermione sighed. “I just thought about Ron.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, yesterday was uncomfortable,” Ginny said, grimacing. “Did he speak to you at all today?”

“No, it’s like he can’t even look me in the eye. I guess he feels guilty,” Hermione answered tiredly. “As far as I’m concerned, he was just sick and now he is better and we should try to stay friends. Do you think you can tell him that?”

“Sure. I’m sure Harry will as well. But you know how Ron is like, just give him time, he will come around,” Ginny comforted her.

Hermione nodded. “I know. Thanks.”

Right then, Angelina came back with a glass of water to each of them. “Hey, what do you say about playing a game now?”

“Does it require me to stand up?” Ginny asked.

Angelina laughed. “No, but since it’s your hen night, we thought we would dirty things up a bit! Luna and I have designed a game … or well, not designed as much as we heard about a game Muggles play on drinking nights and changed it to suit us.”

The other women suddenly quietened down and were looking at Angelina with interest. They were sitting spread out in a circle on couches, armchairs and cushions. Hermione couldn’t remember half of their names and hoped the game wouldn’t require her to interact too much with them. They were all so … sporty. Even though Hermione loved Ginny and Harry, she had never understood their fascination for sport. Why play a game when you could read a good book? However, with Harry and Ginny, Hermione had other things in common with them. That wasn’t the case with these women.

“Fine, how does this game work?” Ginny asked curiously.

“Easy, we all get to ask you a question—the dirtier, the better—and then, you get to ask one in return. The same question as you got if you can’t think of anything better. How does that sound?” Angelina asked eagerly. It seemed she had already prepared some questions for her friend.

Hermione, however, felt a bit uncomfortable. She had a fair idea of what sort of dirty questions would be asked and she was never comfortable getting so private with other people. Except with Voldemort, of course, but that was different, she was fucking him.

Then she realised what she had just thought and scowled. If she could talk about sex with Voldemort, then she should be able to talk about it with these girls. It was just a fun thing, after all. It was for Ginny’s sake, and Hermione knew her friend loved to gossip and talk about naughty things.

True enough, Ginny looked very eager to begin Angelina’s game. They decided to start asking questions in the order they were sitting, so thankfully Hermione would be last. A woman Hermione thought was named Cindy began.

“Okay, so this may be boring but, when was the first time you and Potter did it? Because you can’t say you haven’t,” she said and looked at Ginny’s stomach.

The others laughed.

Ginny was laughing as well before she answered. “When I was sixteen, at the end of my fifth year on Hogwarts. Fred and George had told me about a secret room near the Gryffindor tower, and I took him there one night.” Ginny had a soft smile on her face at the memory. “Poor Harry. He had no idea what I had planned. But he caught on quickly enough.”

The women cheered.

“Ginny, your turn to ask a question back,” Angelina said once the giggles had died down.

“Right,” Ginny pretended to think about it, but Hermione could clearly see that she already knew what to ask. “Well, Cindy, I want to know all about your night with Mr Tutshill Tornados. Spill!”

The other women seemed to be very interested in it as well. Hermione listened and felt a bit like she was eavesdropping on someone’s private conversation. Cindy was not afraid to go into details, and Hermione found it rather uncomfortable that she didn’t know this woman’s last name but knew about how many orgasms that she had had in one night.

However, as the game continued, Hermione managed to ease up. It was a hen night after all, and she had heard about people doing much worse things than talking about sex. At least there was no stripper.

“Hermione! You are up,” Angelina said after nearly an hour had passed.

The women quieted down again and looked at her with interest. Hermione didn’t know if she managed to fight down the blush of suddenly being in the spotlight, but at least, she had already had time to think about what she wanted to ask.

“What is the thing you like the most during sex?” After what all the other women had asked, Hermione’s question was rather mild, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to ask about something dirtier.

Ginny, however, didn’t seem to mind. “I guess it must be afterwards. Sometimes Harry just holds me and strokes my back. It really gives me shivers all over and I just feel so, I don’t know, loved? Yeah, loved.”

A collective sigh went through the room. Hermione smiled at her friend and tried not to feel jealous. Voldemort would never love her, no matter how much pleasure they gave each other.

“Give one to Hermione now,” Angelina urged Ginny.

Ginny looked at Hermione thoughtfully, and Hermione kept her fingers crossed that there wouldn’t be something too revealing. Voldemort would not be pleased if he found out she had told these women about what he was like in bed.

“How many times do you and Marcus have sex, generally?” Ginny asked after a moment.

Hermione relaxed. That wasn’t such a bad question. “Oh, maybe four or five times.”

“A week?”

“No, a day.”

Cindy, who had just taken a sip of her drink, choked and began coughing. The other girls were staring at Hermione in surprise. Hermione could feel a blush creeping up over her face and looked at Ginny, only to discover that the she seemed equally surprised. Hermione scowled. Just because she didn’t talk about it didn’t mean she didn’t have sex. Or maybe they were surprised because of her reputation as a Know-It-All?

“Lucky bastard,” a Scottish woman muttered, and it thankfully made the others start to murmur in agreement.

“That’s what Jack and I were like the first weeks together,” a small black woman said to her neighbour.

“I should really go home to Jeanette and suggest we try to break it,” another woman told Cindy who nodded in agreement.

They all began talking amongst each other, and Hermione was thankfully out of the spotlight again. Only Ginny was still staring at her with a strange expression.

“What?” Hermione asked with a frown.

Ginny blinked. “Oh, sorry. I was just so surprised. I mean, I know how seriously you take school, and with one child and another on the way, I just can’t see how you have the time to do it so often.”

“We make time,” Hermione said in a final tone, hoping they would begin with another discussion.

Ginny didn’t seem to take the hint. “Yeah, but still, with you being pregnant and all … Well, I know I wouldn’t be able to keep it up. If Harry came to me and wanted to have sex more than once a day, I would probably hit him.”

Even though Ginny laughed, Hermione could see that something was worrying her. Did she believe Voldemort was forcing her to have sex with him? Hermione frowned. Well, sure, in a way he was, but she didn’t mind it at all. She had been the one to suggest it. Who wouldn’t trade a couple of hours every day to have glorious sex in exchange for the lives of innocent Muggles?

However, it was worrisome if Ginny suspected that “Marcus” was treating her badly. If Ginny told Harry about it, then Harry would definitely start searching for things. And it probably didn’t help that they knew about Marcus and Althea being Parselmouths.

Hermione felt like a cold hand had gripped her heart. Did Harry and Ginny know the truth? Hermione tried to remember if there had been other times where Ginny had acted weird around Voldemort.

Yes, there had been!

Ginny had been concerned the moment she found out Hermione was sleeping with her teacher. She hadn’t warmed to him at all.

Could she suspect something? She was the one who had had the most contact with Voldemort due to the diary that had possessed her in her first year. Harry had also had his fair share of encounters, due to the mental link they had shared. Neither were stupid; they could put two and two together just as Hermione had done. Voldemort was a good actor, but there were times when his true self appeared from behind the mask. Even if he hadn’t made a revealing move yet, it would be only a matter of time. If Ginny were indeed suspecting something already, the tiniest thing could set her off.

However, if Harry and Ginny did suspect something was up, why hadn’t they told Hermione about their thoughts?

She looked at Ginny who had turned to answer a question from Cindy. Why wouldn’t Ginny just come out and ask her if she suspected Marcus was Voldemort? Hermione could think of three reasons. Either Ginny didn’t know who Marcus was at all. Or Ginny thought she didn’t know and wanted to keep Hermione safe while she worked on a plan to capture Voldemort. Or she thought Hermione knew the truth and was helping Voldemort.

A knot of worry formed in her stomach. Merlin, what should she do?

Just a few months ago, she just would have kept a low profile and let Harry and Ginny find out the truth and bided her time until then. Harry had defeated Voldemort many times before, and even thought Voldemort had said he could defeat his nemesis now, Hermione wasn’t completely sure he could. That thought would have comforted Hermione last year. Now, it only made her stomach hurt.

She remembered the conversation they’d had a few nights ago. He was her family now. She had to protect her family.

But he is still Lord Voldemort, a small voice reminded her.

He had done countless of evil deeds in his days, and people were looking for revenge. If they knew Marcus was Voldemort, they would want to kill him.

She silently cursed. He wasn’t killing anymore. She had made sure of that. If they tried to capture him, he would kill most of them and it wasn’t sure they would manage to defeat him. However, if they did …

Hermione swallowed.

If they did, she would have nothing left. Even if she managed to convince them that she hadn’t known who he was, she would become an outcast. Who would want anything to do with the Dark Lord’s wife? And what about Lord Voldemort’s children? Would they be able to live a normal life?

She knew how prejudiced and mean people could be. In the Muggle world, she had been bullied because she was “weird”. At Hogwarts, she had been bullied because she was Muggle-born. Would her children be shunned, as she had been, just because of whose child they were? Not only that, but Voldemort still had many enemies. What if someone thought fair was fair and decided to kill Voldemort’s children, just as Voldemort had killed many family members? That thought scared Hermione the most.

When Ginny rose from the couch, Hermione looked up, but the other woman only seemed to need the bathroom. Hermione glanced after her, feeling a bit nauseated. If she told Voldemort that Ginny seemed as though she suspected something, he would kill her. However, if she didn’t tell Voldemort, she would have to find a way to stop Ginny herself. But how would she do that if she risked getting a “cough-attack” every time they came close to the truth? She didn’t feel like it was right to Obliviate Ginny, and even if she did that, there was no guarantee Ginny wouldn’t find out again. Besides, if she had already told Harry, it would all be for naught. She wouldn’t be able to Obliviate him as well. The Auror training taught them how to prevent having their memories tampered with. Hermione had practiced it herself but never been in a position where she could test if it actually worked.

“Why so quiet, Hermione?” It was Cindy. She was smiling at Hermione, and Hermione forced herself to smile back.

“Sorry, I’m just tired and my mind was elsewhere,” Hermione replied honestly.

“I see. I hope you aren’t bored or anything. Ginny told me you weren’t much into Quidditch, and I’m afraid some of us just can’t stop talking about it,” Cindy said and smiled sheepishly as she tugged a stray of her short, blond hair behind her ear.

“No, that’s okay,” Hermione assured her. “I guess I’m just not that much fun at parties.”

“Don’t say that.” Cindy moved closer to her on the couch and rearranged her cute, purple skirt. “I know being pregnant is very tiresome. I live with my sister at the moment. She is pregnant and has had a lot of problems with it.”

“I’m sorry to hear,” Hermione replied, hoping her own pregnancy wouldn’t turn more complicated. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Too much stress, they said. Her magic spun out of control, and now she can’t rely on it. The Healers told her not to use magic until after the birth. Apparently, it can happen sometimes. So now I’m helping her out with everything,” the other woman explained.

“Isn’t it a risk she’ll get magical diarrhoea?” Hermione asked, remembering Althea’s magical outbursts now and again.

Cindy, however, just shrugged. “It will only be for three months, and she does do some magic sometimes, you know, like a child who hasn’t learned how to use a wand yet. Tissues keep floating to her when she is reading her romance novels. And chocolate.”

Hermione laughed. “Sounds like something my fiancé wouldn’t mind doing.”

“Right, you are about to be married as well in …?” She looked at Hermione questioningly.

“We haven’t set a date yet,” Hermione answered. “But I think we are aiming for January, so I’ve had time to recover after the baby is born.”

“How romantic: a winter wedding!” Cindy exclaimed, and her blue eyes shone. “I’ve always wanted that. But first I need to find someone to marry, of course.”

Hermione agreed, and they sat talking about wedding plans for the rest of the night. Hermione had almost managed to forget about her problem with Ginny when the other woman came up to her at the end of the night. Most of the guests had already taken their leave, and it was just Ginny and Hermione left in the living room. Luna and Sahara were in the kitchen, washing up.

“Will you be going home now?” Hermione asked as she put on her outer robe.

“No, Mum insisted I’d stay with them so she can help me ‘prepare’ in the morning. Probably wants to give me advice on how to be a wife and all that,” Ginny said and hesitated before she asked: “If you want to, you can stay over as well.”

“Thanks, but I think I need to get home and mend the peace between Marcus and Althea,” Hermione said, feeling her spirit fall as she talked. She tried to remind herself that Althea was just going through a phase, but it didn’t help when there was so much screaming going on in their flat.

Ginny’s look was both sympathetic and somewhat troubled. “Isn’t Marcus capable of dealing with her?”

Hermione was somewhat surprised over Ginny’s question. “I guess he is, I’m just—” She coughed.

What the hell? Why had the hex cut in now? Hermione quickly changed what she had meant to say.

“I’m just being a mother hen. You know, always wanting the best for them.”

Ginny nodded slowly. “Yeah, of course. Oh, well, I shan’t keep you. See you tomorrow then.”

Hermione hugged her friend. “Yes, make sure you sleep well, it will be a long day!”

Ginny groaned. “Don’t remind me!”

After a quick good-bye to Luna, Hermione Apparated back to her own flat, keeping her fingers crossed that today had been a good day for Voldemort and Althea.

Landing in the hallway of their flat, she was struck by how quiet it was. Well, it was past Althea’s bedtime. Maybe they had both gone to sleep? However, a part of her was still dreading the worst. Who knew what Voldemort would do if he and Althea got into a fight and he lost his temper?

A small thump was heard from inside Althea’s bedroom. Hermione hurried to it and opened the door. The sight that met her almost gave her a heart attack.

A seven foot long, black snake was on the floor, closing in on Althea who was facing the other direction. For a split second, Hermione was wondering how it was possible. How could a snake get into Althea’s room? Then she remembered Althea’s talk about her snake friend. Morgana! The fairy had somehow found a way through their protection and was going to take her daughter.

Hermione could only remember being this scared once before when Althea’s bed had caught fire. Just like then, Hermione reacted on instinct now. She almost flew over to her daughter, pulling her away.

“Not my daughter, you bitch!”

Then she made an attempt to step on the head of the snake.

Her plan, however, was thwarted when the snake suddenly changed into a man. Hermione lost her balance and fell onto Voldemort’s chest.

“Salazar witch, who are you calling a bitch?” Voldemort growled and moved her aside so he could sit up, rubbing his chest.

The small girl had begun to cry and was clinging to her father. Hermione trembled heavily and couldn’t stop her own tears from beginning to fall.

“I thought you were Morgana. Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she said, gasping, and sank down on Althea’s bed.

Voldemort sat down next to her and placed Althea on his lap. The girl peered at her mother, and Hermione tried giving her a smile. That calmed Althea down somewhat.

“Mum don’t like snake?” Althea asked, still sniffing slightly.

Hermione shook her head and reached over to dry her daughter’s tears with the hem of her sleeve. Her hands were still shaking.

“No, Mum doesn’t,” Hermione said in a low voice, looking up at Voldemort. “Why did you do that? Is it your Animagus form?”

Voldemort nodded. “She was more manageable when I was in that form. Didn’t disagree as much.”

Hermione snorted. Leave it up to Voldemort to try handling his daughter by turning into a snake.

“Please tell me the next time before you do it,” she said, taking a few deep breaths.

“Shall I make you some tea while you try to get Althea to go to bed?” Voldemort asked.

“Yes please.”

Voldemort placed Althea on the bed and left the room. Hermione looked down at her daughter who had stopped crying completely. Hermione’s heartbeats were finally starting to slow down to a more normal pace. With another deep breath, she managed to smile at her daughter.

“Have you brushed your teeth?” she asked.

Althea nodded and opened her mouth, showing her mother twenty clean, perfect teeth. Malcolm Granger had pointed out that Althea must have inherited her father’s mouth structure as well as his teeth since no one in the Granger family had such straight and even teeth. There was still a small gap between her front teeth, but Malcolm had said they would grow together when Althea was older. Hermione was happy for her daughter. Being teased for one’s teeth was no fun at all.

“Do you need to pee before you go to bed?”

“No, I both peed and pooped before,” Althea declared proudly. “The poop was this big!” She held her hands a few inches apart.

Hermione thought she was exaggerating, and she snorted. Yet, she didn’t want to discourage her daughter so she quickly said, “That’s good. Do you think you can sleep now? It’s getting awfully late.”

She looked at the blue clock standing on Althea’s nightstand. It was already ten o’clock. She wondered what had made Voldemort allow Althea to stay up for so long. Normally, he was quite strict.

“I’m not tired,” Althea said and then had to hide a yawn behind her hand.

“Too bad. The faster you fall asleep, the faster morning will come where we will go to the wedding,” Hermione said, hoping it would have the desired effect.

It didn’t. Althea wrinkled her nose. “Do we have to go?”

“There will be ice cream for dessert,” Hermione promised.

That seemed to lighten Althea’s mood, and it didn’t take long until Hermione had managed to get the girl into bed. Hermione sang a goodnight song softly for Althea and then turned the lights out before leaving the room.

“I’ve never heard you sing before,” Voldemort commented and handed her a cup of tea as she came into the living room.

Hermione grimaced. “I’m not very good at it, but Althea seems to like it nonetheless. You could try it, instead of turning into a snake.”

Voldemort led her to the couch. “I don’t sing.”

Hermione wasn’t surprised. She couldn’t even picture what he would sound like.

They sat down, and Hermione took a sip from the cup. The tea was still very hot. She guessed he had used some sort of heating spell on it.

“What sort of music do you like?” she asked, curious.

“Can’t say I care too much about music at all,” he said after a moment of thought. “I can’t see the point of it unless one is dancing.”

“You dance?” she asked in disbelief.

“Of course I do. And I hope you do too, since I plan to dance with you both tomorrow and at our wedding,” he replied evenly and wrapped an arm around her.

She leaned towards him with her cup in her hands. “I can dance. But why don’t you like music?”

“I don’t dislike it,” Voldemort objected. “I just think there are more useful ways to spend one’s time.”

Hermione couldn’t argue with him on that. She rarely had time to listen to music since she didn’t like having it on whilst she was reading. Some of her classmates claimed they studied better to music, but Hermione couldn’t understand how. Ginny had made her try one summer, and Hermione had only been distracted by the changes in the music.

The thought of Ginny brought back the events of the day and her problem. Hermione still hadn’t figured out if she should tell Voldemort about the chance that Ginny suspected something.

“Why are you so tense?”

Voldemort’s voice broke through Hermione’s thoughts. Fuck. She had forgotten how good he was at reading body language.

“Just thinking about everything we have to do tomorrow,” she lied.

“Hermione.”

“Mm?”

“I can always tell when you are lying.”

Right. Hermione sighed and moved out of his embrace.

“Let’s just get to bed. We do have a long day tomorrow.”

If she had to tell him, she reasoned that she could do it after the wedding. Nothing good would come of it if he found out tonight. Although, perhaps it would be good to point out to him to be on his guard tomorrow?

“You are clearly worried, Hermione,” he pointed out. “Do you really think you’ll be able to sleep when something is bothering you?”

“Well ... if you make sure I’m too exhausted to think,” she suggested, hoping sex would make him drop the subject.

Alas, Voldemort was like a salamander with fire when it came to secrets. He just couldn’t leave it. “I could resort to interrogation techniques that will leave you very exhausted.”

Hermione sighed. She might as well tell him. He would not hesitate to use Legilimency in the end, and that would show him all he needed to know without her having any control over how it would present itself to him. If she told him now, she could at least try to make sure he didn’t storm off to kill Ginny. He had promised not to kill anyone after all. However, a little damage control could never hurt. And she wouldn’t mind having sex.

She rose from the couch, taking his hand and tugging him up as well. Voldemort followed with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Does this mean you’d like to experience my interrogation techniques?” he purred.

She rolled his eyes. “No, I’ll tell you. I just want you to be naked when I do.”

“Why?” he asked, clearly amused.

“I’ll feel better then,” she simply said and led him into the bedroom.

Once next to the bed, she quickly pulled off his clothes and pushed him onto bed. His cock was already rising to attention, and she wasn’t even naked yet. She slowly unbuttoned the blue shirt she was wearing, taking her time so she had a moment to decide how to best break the news to him. Or rather, how to make sure he didn’t run away and did something reckless.

As she slowly pulled off her black skirt and saw his hungry look, she realised two things. One, if he were inside her, she could probably convince him to use a less deadly way to deal with her friends. Two, if she had known having sex could stop boys from doing reckless things, she would probably have had sex with Harry at Hogwarts. That thought led to another: When had she become so sneaky?

She unhooked her bra and threw it on the floor. The clear appreciation in Voldemort’s eyes made her feel sexy and courageous. Feeling sexy was something she hadn’t felt before she met him. Sometimes she still wondered why he thought she was sexy. Was it only because of their Shared Flame or was it more than that? Hermione decided not to worry about it right now. She had a mission.

“It must be a rather spectacular secret,” Voldemort mused, his eyes wandering over her naked breasts and up to her face.

Hermione was a bit taken aback that he could see straight through her plot. Then again, he was awfully clever. She shouldn’t underestimate him.

“You seem to like it, though,” she said, looking down at his fully erect cock.

“I do,” he purred. “I’m just stating facts. But please, continue.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione removed her knickers, threw them on the pile of her clothes and started to walk over to him when he held up his hand, stopping her.

“Oh, I think you can do better than that, dear,” Voldemort said. “Touch yourself.”

Starting to feel a bit self-conscious, Hermione put her hands on her hips and slowly started to stroke her body upwards. The hunger in his eyes increased. Her hands came up to her stomach. She was getting bigger. Not everyone noticed when she was dressed, but it was clear as day when she was naked.

Her hands travelled up to her breasts. Her nipples were already standing to attention because of the slightly chilly air. They had been very sensitive the past few weeks, and she only had to play with her fingers over them for a few seconds to get a thrill travelling down her spine to her sex. Of course it was even more pleasurable when he did it.

“Come here,” he ordered and held out his arms.

Hermione obeyed. She wanted to feel his naked body against hers. Feel the sparks of pleasure. Feel him inside her. And judging by the raw hunger in his eyes, he wanted the same thing.

Straddling him, her arms came around his neck and their mouths met in a consuming kiss. For a moment, she completely lost track of her mission and let herself forget everything but his lips moving against hers and his tongue in her mouth. Thankfully, she caught herself before he could turn their position. She wanted to be on top tonight.

Breaking their kiss, she looked at him. He met her gaze with both lust and softness. Good, then she could probably get on with it.

Her sex could almost find his on its own by now, but she still moved her hand down and guided him inside her. He let out a groan and closed his eyes, letting his head fall backwards.

Hermione decided to tell him now when she could still remember what she was supposed to tell him. It was strange how her brain seemed to malfunction every time he had his cock inside her.

“I think Ginny is starting to guess your true identity,” Hermione said, moving over his cock.

Voldemort’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at her in anger. With a growl, he had turned them around so she was lying underneath him as he held her wrists together over her head. His cock was still buried in her cunt, and she guessed that was a good sign. Just to make sure he would have some trouble getting away, she wrapped her legs around his. The anger in Voldemort’s eyes lessened a bit, and she could see that he was amused.

“My little minx.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead at the same time as he began moving inside of her. “Making sure I won’t want to go kill your friend straight away. No matter. I can do it later.”

Hermione stared at him in panic.

Voldemort ignored it. “It won’t be considered strange if I kill her tonight. I’ll make sure Potter knows it was me. He will assume I only want to ruin all his chances of ever having a happy family.”

“No!” Hermione cried. “You promised you wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Ah, but I believe I made a promise before that to kill anyone who found out about me,” he reminded her, meeting her eyes again. She could see that he was obviously finding this funny.

Hermione stared back at him. She was hurt and angry. How could he talk about killing her friend so calmly? Didn’t he see how much it hurt her? Did her happiness mean so little to him? Or had she been so stupid to think that he could ever care about her?

“Get off me,” she growled, doing her best to wriggle free. “Get off me now!”

The amusement disappeared from his eyes.

“No.” His grip around her wrists tightened. He seemed unaffected by her kicks. “No one can find out who I am. No one besides you.”

“If you think that for one moment I’ll continue to fuck you if you kill my friends, you’re wrong,” Hermione growled, her voice trembling with rage. She might not want anyone finding out about him for the sake of her family, but she did not want to protect him at the expense of her friends’ lives.

He regarded her closely. Then he started to move his hips again, moving inside her fast and hard.

“I don’t need your permission, Hermione,” he spat. “You are mine. Your body already knows it. You are still wet. Still close to an orgasm. I could have Potter hanging from his ankles, broken and bleeding, and you would still be wetter than a fucking water nymph.”

She had never hated him as much as she did right now. The anger was making her blood boil and her heart ache. However, the hurt she was feeling was worse. They had been getting along so well that she had actually started to believe that he was adapting to becoming better. But now this came and blew their fragile peace deal to smithereens. He would always be Voldemort, ready to kill the moment he was threatened. She had been stupid to think she could reason with him. Stupid to think he actually cared what she thought.

What she hated the most was that he made her climax, regardless. She scratched the back of his hands as she came, wanting him to feel pain. Voldemort growled and moved his hands to her palms so she couldn’t scratch him. She tried to bite and kick him instead, which made him flip her around and take her from behind instead.

She tried to crawl away, but he had such a tight grip on her hips that she didn’t get very far. Hermione began to cry, hating how her whole body shuddered in pleasure at every single one of his thrusts. From the position he was now in, he repeatedly hit the spot inside her that made her see stars.

He began to move faster, and she was on the edge of another orgasm. Her legs were trembling. If it weren’t for him holding them up, she would have fallen down on her stomach ages ago. She could hardly think straight; all she felt was anger, hate and pleasure. So much pleasure.

She came again, sobbing into the pillow underneath her. Voldemort came with a groan as well, spilling his seed inside her before falling down on his side of the bed. However, he still was not letting go of her. He spooned her and wrapped his arm around her chest, kissing her shoulder.

Hermione made a weak attempt to break free again, but he just chuckled and held her still.

“There, there, my little kitten,” he whispered. “We still have things to discuss, now that I’ve made my point.”

Hermione gritted her teeth together. “I hate you.”

“Doesn’t matter, dear. I believe that was my point.” He kissed her shoulder again. “So, how do you think we should handle this situation?” he continued and finally let go of her hands.

Hermione didn’t know what he meant. “If you ever do something like that to me again—”

“Yes, I know. You’ll start crying, get angry and scream at me,” he said, sounding amused. “I was talking about Ginevra. What should we do about her?”

Hermione was so surprised that she didn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t kill Ginny? Then, what had all this been for? Just him showing his power over her again? Hermione scowled. Of course it was. Nevertheless, she was sure his threat to kill Ginny and maybe even Harry was legit if they couldn’t think about something better to do. Therefore, she had to push back her anger and sadness and focus on what was important: her friends’ lives.

“You are good at Legilimency,” she stated, her voice cold. “Surely, it would be no problem for you to make her forget ever thinking about whom you could be?”

“Legilimency is a fine art, Hermione. Watching memories is one thing, starting to change them is another. And what is to say she won’t figure it out in the future? No, we need something that proves to them once and for all that Marcus can’t possibly be Voldemort.”

“Too bad you can’t be both of them at once,” she muttered. “Then you could make sure Ginny saw the both of you at the same time.”

He was quiet for a moment. “That, my sweet kitten, is an excellent idea.”

He pressed another kiss against her neck and let go of her. The moment he did, she moved out of the bed. If he had an idea that didn’t result in the death of her friends, then her work was done and she wouldn’t spend another second with him.

“Where are you going?” Voldemort asked, surprised.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” she stated.

Hermione took her pillow, pressing it against her chest. She wasn’t able to look at him. It had all been an illusion. All the niceness he had displayed had just been a mask. This was the real Voldemort. And she knew it. She had always known it. Yet, she had allowed herself to be tricked into thinking otherwise nevertheless.

She didn’t know who she was the most angry with: him or herself.

His eyes narrowed. “No, you will sleep in the bed with me.”

She hugged her pillow tighter. She was tired, angry and sad. She didn’t have the energy to fight with him right now. However, nothing he could do or say would make her sleep with him after what he had done.

“No, I will not. You were ready to kill my friends. You continued to fuck me after I had asked you to stop. How can you expect me to sleep next to you after that?”

She finally looked him in the eyes. Cold, calculating eyes.

“You promised to have sex with me whenever I wanted to,” he reminded her, studying her closely.

She pressed her lips together. “Then, by all means, take what you want. Just don’t wake me while you do it.”

With that, she spun around and stalked out the bedroom. She wanted to slam the door shut but didn’t want to risk waking Althea. Therefore, she shut it carefully and walked over to the couch. A blanket lay folded over the back of the couch. She put her pillow at one end and then pulled the blanket over her naked body. Her last thoughts were of the horrible man she had promised to spend the rest of her life with.
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