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
- 30
- 31
- 32
Hello minio… eh, I mean readers. Guessing the megalomaniac-iness is rubbing off on everyone. Oh, well. Great thanks to Shan84 and Nerys for betaing this chapter and brainstorming with me when this chapter needed some serious rewriting. Then I want to thank everyone for taking their time to read and review, much appreciated! You can find review replies here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/20494-shared-flame-by-lady-miya/page__st__20

This chapter is dedicated to Nerys as a late birthday present! Cheers!

Chapter 30
When the door shut behind Voldemort’s angry fiancée, he growled and stood up, ready to storm out after her. However, before he even reached the door, he stopped himself. This situation was bad enough with him showing her who was in control. Of course an independent woman with personal integrity like Hermione would react badly to that. He didn’t need to assert his control over her again by forcing her to sleep beside him. That would only worsen the situation.
He fell back into the bed and massaged his temples with his hands. Why had he pushed her so far? It had taken months and a kidnapping for her to start trusting him. She had finally given into his will without complaining. Now this situation had ruined all of his hard work. If she hadn’t made him so angry, he would have been able to stop himself. He had just wanted her to submit to him. To show that she accepted him as her master. That was what had been important last night. Not whether or not he should kill Ginevra Weasley.
Although it would have been wonderful to kill Potter’s soon-to-be-wife, he knew it would break Hermione. He wanted Hermione unbroken more than he wanted to cause Potter pain.
Unfortunately, Hermione hated him more than ever now. It wasn’t the same hate as before when she had hated him for his actions in the past. This time, it was worse. This time, she hated him because of something he had done to her. It would be difficult for them to move past this.
Was it even worth it?
Voldemort opened his eyes at the thought. If he didn’t have to care about Hermione’s well-being, he could just go and kill Ginevra right away. Hell, he could kill Potter, too, while he was at it. No more compromising with Hermione. Fear would keep her in check. That would be so much simpler.
Scowling, he sat up again. It would be easier to control Hermione through her fears, but no fun. She would resent him. Fight him. Lie to him. She would be miserable and stressed. Then, she’d become ugly. It wouldn’t be as fun to fuck her if she were like that. He wanted her the way she was now, or rather, like she had been prior to their fight. How could he possibly live with her if she turned into a scared, little rabbit like so many of his Death Eaters had become? It had been useful for him then, but he had always hated to spend more time than necessary with them. If Hermione turned into something like that, he would no doubt kill her out of sheer annoyance. And ... if he did that, he would no longer have a Shared Flame giving him more power.
Cursing under his breath, he stood up and walked to the window. Dark clouds covered the night sky. The only light came from the street lights and the occasional Muggle car driving by. He hadn’t lived this close to Muggles since his childhood. Hermione had rejoiced when she saw how close to the Muggle world they were. A Muggle food market was just a minute walk from their flat. She liked getting Muggle food for Althea from time to time. She had even convinced him to eat Muggle ice cream.
Well, the Muggles were bound to get something right every now and then.
Thinking about ice cream naturally led him to think about sex. Knowing that Hermione didn’t want to fuck him made him want to go and take her again. However, he wasn’t about to do that to her in her sleep. He knew she wouldn’t like that, despite what she had said, and he did not want to make things even worse between them.
No, he had to come up with a plan that would make sure Ginevra and Potter never suspected who he really was. Something that wouldn’t hurt either one of them … much. Once he had taken care of that, he would make Hermione trust him again.
Lying down in bed, he pulled the covers over his body and closed his eyes. Hermione had given him the idea that Ginevra and Potter should see Marcus and Voldemort together. He thought the idea had merit, but it would be hard to do.
First, he only had a small window of opportunity when he could show himself as Lord Voldemort to them. It would be suspicious if Voldemort just happened to show up when “Marcus” stood next to them. He hadn’t shown himself to anyone in the past four years. Why now? He needed an excuse that wouldn’t make them consider “Marcus” had realised they were on to him.
Potter’s wedding was the perfect opportunity. It would not be strange if Lord Voldemort tried to hurt his nemesis on his special day. It would show them all that they were never safe from him. People would think that was what he was trying to do.
However, how could he show himself as Lord Voldemort and not attempt to kill Potter?
No, he couldn’t just show up. Especially since it wouldn’t be Potter he was going after but Ginevra.
He didn’t sleep much that night. He was too busy running through every possible scenario, trying to decide on the best course of action. It was four o’clock in the morning when he was finally satisfied with his plan and fell asleep. Needless to say, he was not in a good mood when Althea stormed into the room at eight in the morning.
“Daaaaaaaad,” she said impatiently in Parseltongue. “It’s morning. Come and make breakfast.”
Voldemort, who was lying on his stomach with his face towards Althea, only opened one eye. “Ask your mother instead.”
“Mum is in the bathroom,” Althea informed him. “I want breakfast now!”
Voldemort was very tempted to show his daughter that no-one ordered Lord Voldemort around. However, that would only lead to Althea crying, and then, Hermione would become more upset with him. That wasn’t good since he needed Hermione to assist him in his plan today.
“Fine, I’m coming,” he muttered and stretched his limbs. “Go and pick your extra porridge topping while I get dressed.”
Luckily for Althea’s future health, she obeyed him. He got up and put on his green dressing gown. He would take a shower later. Cleaning Charms never made you feel as clean as a real shower.
Entering the kitchen, he discovered that today’s topping for the porridge were apples. He started making the porridge as Althea happily talked about the wedding. For some reason only known to herself, she had decided that she in fact wanted to go to the wedding. All of a sudden she was also eager to put on the dress she had bought with Hermione. Children were peculiar creatures indeed.
“What sort of ice cream do you think they will have?” Althea asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “I want that pink ice cream. Or the blue. Or the brown. Not the white. Why does Mum like the white so much? Oh, Mum said that I would have to sit quiet for a time. Why do I have to do that?”
When Althea’s rambling finished, Voldemort realised that she actually expected an answer. He looked away from the pot and towards his daughter.
“You only have to be quiet during the bonding ceremony. It’s so you won’t disturb the man doing the magic on Harry and Ginny. But it is very pretty to look at, so just focus on that.”
Althea seemed to think that was reasonable. “What does a bonding ceremony do?”
“It creates a magical bond between two people, making them husband and wife,” Voldemort explained and stirred the pot.
“Like you and Mum have?” Althea asked.
“Similar,” he said. “However, we are not husband and wife yet. We will have our bonding ceremony next year.”
“Why?”
“Because I want us to.”
“Does Mum want it?”
“She knows that it is for the best.” He poured the apples into the porridge and stirred it around before taking the pot from the stove. “How much do you want?”
Voldemort and Althea had already started eating when Hermione finally came out of the bathroom. Judging by the steam that followed her, she had been in the shower for quite a while. Voldemort forced himself not to scowl. She had undoubtedly tried to rinse him from her body.
Hermione gave him a sour look as she sat down and took her own bowl of porridge. Her anger must have developed into the cold, distant kind. He sighed. Hopefully the news that he wouldn’t kill her friends would make her look a little less ready to kick him in the groin.
“I’ve come up with a plan,” he said, scraping the last of the porridge from his bowl. “Your friends will only be marginally hurt if you help me.”
She looked at him with tired and cold eyes. “And if I don’t help you?”
“Then I won’t be able to go through with my plan and I’ll have to come up with something else. Then, I can no longer guarantee their safety.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your plan then?”
Voldemort was about to explain, but Althea interrupted him. “Mum. Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad, honey,” Hermione said, her eyes softening as she turned to her daughter. She reached out and stroked Althea’s hand. “Your father and I just had a disagreement, but you don’t have to worry about it. This is a happy day for our friends, so we should be happy.”
Hermione’s smile looked a bit strained, and Voldemort could see that Althea was suspicious of her explanation. Hermione obviously saw this as well. She gently squeezed her daughter’s hand.
“It’s okay, Althea.” Hermione glanced at Voldemort, and he could see that she wanted him to help her.
He decided to humour her as he reached out and stroked Althea’s hair. “It really is, dear. Do you want any more porridge?”
“No,” Althea said, finally looking reassured. “When does the thingy start?”
“The wedding isn’t until two,” Hermione said, withdrawing her hand. “But I’ll have to go earlier and help Ginny. You and your father will go together.”
“Why can’t I go with you?” Althea asked, pouting.
Hermione hesitated. “Do you really think you want to? I’ll be helping with the decorations, like putting out chairs for everyone to sit, put out flowers and so on. I also have to make sure Ginny and Harry stay calm.”
“Mhm. I can put out flowers, too,” Althea pointed out.
Hermione smiled. “I’m sure you can. But I’ll be leaving in just two hours. Can you be ready, too, then?”
Althea jumped off her chair. “Yeah, I can go to the bathroom and brush my teeth now.”
She ran off to the bathroom.
Hermione snorted. “I don’t know why she suddenly wants to go to the wedding so badly.”
She turned back to Voldemort. However, once she looked at him again, all happiness disappeared from her face. “So, what’s your plan?”
Voldemort smirked. “I’m going to crash a wedding.”

xxx

When Hermione arrived at the wedding, she was angry and worried. Not only did she know that Voldemort would completely destroy Harry and Ginny’s wedding, she had to help him do it! Admittedly, her part wasn’t going to be big, but she would still have to sit there, knowing that she was the reason why her best friend would have the best day of his life destroyed.
She shouldn’t have told him what she suspected. She should just have fucked him until he couldn’t think straight and then let him fall asleep. That would have been much better than what had happened.
She fought back a wave of nausea at the memory of the night before. How could he just do that to her? How could he just continue to fuck her when she had told him to stop?
Of course, she couldn’t say that she was surprised. The man didn’t even understand the concept of compassion. It had only been a matter of time before he did something like this.
“Mum?” Althea brought Hermione out from her angry thoughts.
“Yes, dear?” Hermione said, masking her anger. The least she could do was to make sure Althea wasn’t affected by this.
“Where is the flowers?” she wanted to know.
“The flowers are probably over there,” Hermione said, correcting her automatically as she led her towards the large tent a few yards away from them.
They were at a large garden just outside London. Harry and Ginny had rented it for the whole day, and both the ceremony and the feast would take place inside the tent. The large, blue tent was in the middle of the garden, which looked spectacular in the spring time. The various plants were all in bloom and it reminded Hermione of all the colours of the rainbow.
“Oi, Hermione!” Angelina came out from the tent.
“Good morning,” Hermione greeted her, continuing to mask her terrible mood. “Althea wanted to come along and help. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course! I was just on my way to go and get the flowers. Why don’t you two help me with that? It’s a lot.”
For the next couple of hours, Hermione tried to focus on helping. There really was a lot to prepare, and she did manage to distract herself enough. However, when it was time to sit down and eat, the thoughts returned.
Voldemort would show up at the wedding as Lord Voldemort and cause havoc. He had promised no one would get hurt, they just needed Lord Voldemort and “Marcus Foster” to be seen at the same place at the same time. All she had to do was to make sure the Marcus-clone got back home. All for the sake of keeping his secret.
“What has got you so blue, Hermione?” Harry came and sat down next to her.
Hermione forced a smile. “Was I looking sad? No, I was just thinking.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. How are you feeling yourself? Getting nervous?” she asked, thinking it was better to redirect the attention away from herself.
“I don’t know. I mean, I shouldn’t be. I’m finally getting to marry the woman I love.” But he did look nervous.
Hermione smiled at him. “It’s okay to be nervous, Harry. From what I’ve heard, most people are.”
“Yeah, but still. I guess I’m just nervous something will happen. What if I forget my vows? Or trip on my way up there? What if the binding magic doesn’t work?”
Hermione took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Give Kingsley some credit, he has done this before. And if you trip, I’m sure Ginny will catch you. She is strong, after all. As for the vows … well, just make sure Ron has a copy on him so he can give it to you if you need it.”
Harry smiled, looking much more relieved. “You’re right, thanks. What would I do without you?”
Hermione snorted. “You seem to have managed pretty well.”
“Right. But I’m still so glad you are here. You will always be my best friend, you know that, right?” Harry squeezed her hand, looking sincere.
Hermione felt her eyes tear up. Merlin, she didn’t deserve this. She was a horrible friend.
Harry looked alarmed over her tears. “Er…”
“Sorry,” Hermione quickly said, wiping her eyes. “Pregnancy hormones make you react really inappropriately sometimes.”
“Right,” Harry said, looking uncomfortable. “Oh, there’s Ron. I should go and make sure he got the vows.” He stood up, but then he looked down at her again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She smiled. “Yes. Now shoo! We both have to get ready.”
She watched Harry go up to Ron who had just entered with his mother, levitating the last of the chairs. For a second their eyes met, but then Ron quickly looked away. Hermione sighed. Ron hadn’t spoken to her at all, and she doubted he would. Perhaps it was for the best. She had no idea what to say to him, and frankly, she had much greater issues than trying to befriend him again.
“Mummy!” Althea ran up to her. “Gin says you to come to the hotel to get ready. She has my dress!”
Hermione took a deep breath and stood up. It was time to get dressed for the wedding. Ginny had hired a special hairdresser for the occasion. Knowing her hair, Ginny had said that Hermione would go first.
While in the chair, Hermione was surprised of how quickly the hairdresser worked. In less than half an hour, the tall, blond woman named Clarisse had managed to get her curly hair into a French twist. She even managed to decorate it with tiny Forget-Me-Nots.
“Wow,” Hermione said, stunned at the result. “Do you think I can hire you for my wedding?”
“Sure,” Clarisse replied happily. “Just owl me the date and I’ll put in a reservation in my calendar.”
As Clarisse went to work on Ginny’s hair, Hermione helped Althea to get dressed and fix her hair. However, unlike Hermione, all Althea had was a simple braid with a few flowers in it.
When they were both dressed, Hermione sat down on a couch, waiting for the other women to get ready. Ginny was looking at herself in the mirror. Even though it was unusual for a Wizarding wedding, she had decided to go with a white dress. It was sleeveless, and the bodice was tightly fitted over her upper body. Luckily for Ginny, her pregnancy wasn’t showing much yet, and they only had to take out the dress a little a few days before.
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Ginny said, seemingly to herself. Then she let out a happy squeal and turned around as her eyes fell on Althea. “Oh Merlin, Althea, you look so pretty!”
Althea giggled and looked happy at the compliment. “You are very pretty, too!”
Ginny shone like the sun. However, in the hour leading up to the ceremony, she became more and more nervous, constantly asking for reassurance that everything was in order. Hermione was quite relieved when she could leave to give Althea to Voldemort. Since Hermione was a bridesmaid, she would be standing at the front with Luna and Angelina.
When she found Voldemort outside the tent, he was standing with Neville of all people, making small talk. She could feel a wave of resentment rush through her at his perfect appearance. He looked like he was enjoying himself and was being nice to Neville, but it was all an act. Everything he always did was an act. Bloody bastard.
“Dad!” Althea called out, drawing Voldemort’s (and a few others’) attention to them.
Hermione forced a smile on her face. The disapproving look on Voldemort’s face told her she wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding her emotions. He excused himself from Neville and went over to her. He pressed a soft kiss on her mouth, but she remained unresponsive.
“Do you want the whole world to know we have had an argument?” he scolded her in a low voice.
She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Suit yourself. If you hadn’t done what you did, I wouldn’t have anything to look angry about.”
He sighed. Right then, Arthur Weasley called out to everyone that it was time to take their seats.
“We’ll talk more later,” Voldemort mumbled to Hermione before he turned his attention to his daughter. “Should we go and find a seat, Althea?”
Althea was watching Hermione with a small frown on her face. “Mum, are you okay?”
“It’s nothing to worry about, love. Go with you father, I’ll see you later.”
Voldemort took Althea and went into the tent while Hermione went back towards the hotel that was just across the street from the garden. She wasn’t even half way there when she met up with the others in the wedding. Ginny was holding a tight grip of Harry’s hand, looking anxious.
“Is everything alright? Has everyone got here?” she asked.
“As far as I could see, everything was going smoothly. Arthur just called them inside,” Hermione reassured her.
“I guess this is it,” Harry said, looking a bit pale, but he still managed to smile as he looked at Ginny. “What do you say, Miss Weasley? Do you want to become Mrs Potter now?”
Ginny beamed.

xxx

Voldemort was utterly bored during the bonding ceremony. It was disgusting how Potter and Weasley could stand there behaving so foolishly, talking about love like it was the air they breathed. He mentally snorted but did make a few notes. He hadn’t been to many weddings before, and it was important he acted the part during his wedding this coming winter.
During the ceremony, his eyes drifted to Hermione more often than not. He felt a sting of unease as he watched her. She really had a hard time hiding how much she hated him. That wasn’t good. Neither was the fact that she was looking utterly delicious in that tight, blue dress. He wanted to ravish her right there and then. Alas, she would probably start crying and tell him to stop. Again.
Voldemort grimaced and looked at Potter. He needed to prepare for his plan. It would take a lot of power to create a clone, and the clone would not be able to do any complicated things. It would look exactly like him and act like Marcus Foster, but it would not be able to do magic. That was the weak part. Therefore, Hermione needed to keep an eye on the situation to make sure nothing could reveal the clone. She would have to remove the clone as soon as people had seen both Lord Voldemort and the clone at the same place at the same time.
The question was: Could he trust her to go through with it? She couldn’t actively do anything that revealed his identity, but if she chose not to act at all and leave the clone alone so someone realised that it couldn’t do magic…
His spell couldn’t stop that.
Before last night, he would have counted that he could trust her. If nothing else than for the sake of their children. But when she was angry, she could act rather irrational. That meant that she could take the opportunity to just leave the clone and let others realise it was magicless. That would create quite a mess.
He had already decided to make sure she cooperated in another way. If he held a person she liked hostage, she would not dare leave him. At the same time, he wanted to scare Potter as much as possible. By kidnapping Ginny, he could kill two birds with one stone.
That particularly happy thought meant that Voldemort was able to look content and attentive as he listened to the rest of the ceremony. When the others stood up to cheer for the bride and groom, he cheered as well, lifting Althea up on his shoulder so she could see Potter and the new Mrs Potter kiss.
After the newlyweds had left the tent, everyone else was asked to step outside for a drink. They were going to refurnish for the feast.
Voldemort put Althea down again and went to find her mother. Needless to say, Hermione wasn’t all that happy to see him. Thankfully, she was a bit better at hiding it this time.
“Mum! Did you see how the pretty magic?” Althea wanted to know.
“Yes, sweet, I did,” Hermione said with a smile, ignoring Voldemort.
“Will there be more magic now?” Althea asked.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Hermione said.
Althea pouted.
“Well, they did say they were going to refurnish the tent,” Voldemort chimed in. “They will no doubt do that with magic. If you don’t get in the way, I’m sure they will let you watch.”
Althea’s eyes lit up. “Okay!”
“Just don’t disturb them,” Hermione called after her as their daughter hurried back towards the tent.
“How are you feeling?” Voldemort asked when their daughter had left. Since there were a lot of other people standing around them, he made sure to sound concerned. “Do you want to sit down for a bit?”
Hermione did seem tired but reluctant to come with him. “There is nowhere to sit.”
Voldemort smiled. “Magic, dear. Come on. I’m sure Harry and Ginny will understand if you sit down for a little bit.”
As the others started to line up to congratulate the married couple, Voldemort led Hermione in the other direction. As it turned out, he didn’t have to conjure up something to sit on. When they had got out from the crowd, Voldemort spotted a wooden bench in the shadow of an oak tree. It was well outside earshot from the others.
Even though it was quite warm for April, Voldemort undid his outer robe and wrapped it around Hermione before they sat down. It wouldn’t do for anyone to think that he was less than a gentleman towards his pregnant fiancée.
Hermione didn’t say anything. It seemed like she had gone back to the cold resentment of that morning.
“Nothing will ever get better if you ignore and avoid me, Hermione,” he pointed out after a few minutes of silence. He had already cast Snape’s old anti-eavesdropping spell around them.
“Neither will it get better if you continue to force me to do whatever you want,” she bit back.
He sighed. “I’m sparing your friends’ lives. Surely, you can help with that?”
She didn’t answer but looked down at the ground with a small frown on her forehead.
“What is it that you want, then?” he demanded to know.
“I guess an apology is too much to ask for,” she muttered.
“An apology for what?” he wondered.
She looked up and stared at him in disbelief. “For what? You continued to fuck me even when I told you no. That counts as rape!”
Voldemort blinked. She felt like he had raped her?
“We have a deal. I can have you whenever I want as long as I don’t kill any Muggles.”
She looked away. Clearly she remembered that as well.
“This isn’t the same. I wouldn’t have objected if you hadn’t threatened to kill my friends. Why would you do that if you had already decided not to kill them? Do you like to see me suffer that much?”
Voldemort sighed. “You made me angry—”
She turned to him, anger clear in her eyes. “No. This isn’t my fault. You have issues, and you take them out of me. I won’t stand for that. Really, how much of this treatment do you think I can take before I try to kill you in your sleep? It’s not as if the thought hasn’t—”
He gripped her shoulder, his voice hard. “Don’t threaten me, Hermione.”
Hermione stared back at him with fury in her eyes. “Don’t hurt me, and I won’t have to.”
They stared unblinkingly into each other’s eyes for several seconds before voices coming closer made them both look away. They had belonged to two guests from the wedding, looking like they were going on a stroll. Voldemort quickly readjusted his grip so it looked like he was stroking Hermione’s back instead.
Once they had passed, Hermione stood up, handing back his robe. “Let’s just get this day over with.”
He accepted the robe and stood up as well. When she turned to leave, he made a decision.
“I am sorry,” he said in a soft tone.
Hermione turned back to him, disbelief clear on her face. He stepped closer to her. He wanted her the way she used to be. If an apology would help him, then he had no problem uttering one.
“Do you mean it?” she asked, suspicious.
“Yes,” he said. “I know I don’t have to hurt you. My temper got the better of me.”
For a short moment, Hermione looked like she believed him. Then she looked away, sighing. “You aren’t capable of regret, Voldemort.”
He became annoyed. “Yes, I am. I regret how I acted. I shouldn’t—I wouldn’t have done it if I had known things would turn out like this.”
“But you only regret it because you are finding this to be uncomfortable now,” she remarked.
Voldemort growled. “I thought you wanted an apology. Did you really mean you wanted me to have a whole personal makeover?”
She regarded him closely for a moment. “I guess I did.”
Then, she spun around and stalked back towards the other guests.
Voldemort took a deep breath, calming himself down. It wouldn’t help to start hexing. At least not yet. He would have an outlet later tonight. Until then, he had to make up a reason as to why Hermione was mad at him. Her pregnancy would have to do. Everyone knew women got upset over the silliest things during their pregnancies.
He went back to the party and was served a glass of champagne as he started to mingle. There were a lot of interesting people here after all, and he wanted to make a good impression. He made small talk with some Aurors until it was time to get back inside the tent for dinner. There were no arranged seats, so by the time Voldemort got in, Hermione was already at a full table. He decided to let her be for now and sat down at a table in a corner. Not long after, he was joined by Neville Longbottom.
Longbottom was an utterly boring table companion, but Voldemort was excellent at small talk. Besides, it was good if Longbottom noticed him and knew who he was. Voldemort would make sure his clone stood close to Longbottom during Lord Voldemort’s appearance. The Potters would no doubt trust their old friend as an eyewitness.
Just before the main course, Harry Potter rose to hold his speech to his new wife. Yada, yada, things about love. Everyone applauded. Voldemort congratulated himself for being able to resist rolling his eyes. During the rest of the dinner, he was amazed by his own abilities to not kill each and every annoying individual around his table.
He was very relieved when Hermione finally left with Althea in the middle of the dessert course. When she returned fifteen minutes later, she went past him and mumbled: “She’s gone to sleep.”
Finally.
Voldemort had promised Hermione not to attack until their daughter was asleep. She didn’t want the child to witness him as Lord Voldemort. He didn’t want her there either, but for other reasons. He wasn’t sure that Althea wouldn’t recognise him, despite the change of appearance. Children noticed things most adults missed, and it would be a disaster if Althea revealed him in some way.
After the dessert and before the wedding cake, they had the opportunity to mingle. Voldemort decided that it was time for him to prepare for the grand finale and went to find Hermione.
She was standing together with a young man Voldemort recognised as an Auror; they looked to be in a deep conversation with one another. At once, Voldemort felt the urge to go over there and mark his territory. Not seeing a reason why he shouldn’t, he went up to them, placed an arm around Hermione’s shoulder and kissed her temple as a form of greeting.
“There you are,” he said. “I was starting to think I had lost my fiancée.”
Hermione had tensed the moment he touched her, and her voice was strained. “I was catching up with Dennis Creevey here. He has just joined the Aurors.”
“Oh, so you are the Marcus Foster I’ve heard so much about?” Creevey said with a broad smile and stretched out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
He didn’t look embarrassed like someone would who had just been hitting on Hermione and had got caught. Thus, Voldemort shook his hand and reluctantly concluded that the boy wasn’t interested in Hermione. Strange. Hermione looked absolutely delicious.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Voldemort said. “Do you mind if I borrow Hermione for a little while?”
“Oh, not at all. I’ll catch you later, Hermione. It was nice seeing you again!” He made a small wave and then went to some other guests.
“What do you want?” Hermione asked in a low voice, shrugging his arm away from her shoulders.
“I heard that it would be another half-hour before the caked is served. That gives us time to prepare,” he mumbled.
Hermione sighed. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”
She made an attempt to walk away first, but Voldemort gripped her hand and spun her back to him. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look like you were about to go to detention. People already think we’ve had a fight. How about you act like I’ve just asked for your forgiveness, and we are off to ‘celebrate’ your acceptance of the apology?”
“How do you suggest we make that look?” she asked, annoyed.
“Kiss me, and then, drag me away looking horny.”
“Why would that be any better? Can’t we just walk out of sight like normal people do?”
“What is the fun with that?” he asked.
When she merely stared, he sighed. “Fine. Let’s walk behind the trees so we can Apparate.”
However, he didn’t let go of her hand during the walk. Neither did he let her Apparate alone. He embraced her tense body, and a moment later, they were back in their flat. Hermione broke free at once.
“So how do we do this?” she asked, looking everywhere but at him.
“I’ll create the clone and I need you to be quiet during that time. Then, I’ll need a magical boost.” He eyed her body meaningfully.
She seemed very uncomfortable at that prospect. “Can’t you get it another way?”
“No. Do I need to remind you that time is of the essence?” He regarded her closely, not liking how unhappy she looked. “Why are you looking like that? We have had sex more times than I can count.”
“You haven’t forced me before,” she spat, her previous tenseness turning into anger.
He looked at her, uncertain at what he was supposed to say. He had already apologised. What more did she want?
The silence grew between them like an invisible wall. She was glaring accusingly at him while he tried to keep his temper under control. After a moment, he decided that they didn’t have time for this now.
“It’s too late to back down now. I’ll do the spell, and then, we’ll have sex. Deal with it,” he hissed and brought out his wand.
He closed his eyes as he focused on the spell. Silently, he began casting, feeling his magic leaving his body and creating a form out of thin air. There were better ways to do this, through potions or transfiguration, but that required more time. Therefore he had to settle for something less reliable. A clone out of thin air always turned back to thin air in due time. How long the clone was solid depended on how strong the caster was. Voldemort estimated that he could make the clone last a minimum of twelve hours. That would give him plenty of time to go through with his plan. If he could change back to being Marcus Foster earlier, he could simply destroy the clone.
When the spell finished, Voldemort swayed from the loss of energy. It was a good thing he had harvested so much magic from Hermione before, otherwise he would have been exhausted. That was why he rarely bothered with clones. Since he was such a complex being, it took a lot of power to create a copy even though it didn’t have any magic.
Opening his eyes, he saw the clone standing about a yard away, stretching its limbs. Voldemort went up to the clone and examined it closely. The clone arched an eyebrow.
“You already know I’m perfect,” the clone commented dryly. “You made me.”
“True,” Voldemort concurred. “I hope that means you won’t try to break free and do what Lord Voldemort would do?”
“No, I know I’ll be gone soon, and there would be no reason to sabotage myself,” the clone answered. “Don’t worry, handsome, you’ll never be as obedient and good as I am.”
Voldemort snorted. Even though the clone looked, acted and thought like him, there were still some ways clones differed. He wasn’t sure why, but maybe it was the knowledge that it was just a clone. It didn’t have its own purpose but was only there to serve someone else. That was a contradiction to Lord Voldemort’s personality and therefore created some differences.
“Oh, Merlin, this is so disturbing.” Hermione groaned behind them.
Voldemort turned around and saw her eyes shifting between the two of them as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or panic.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” the clone mused, looking at Voldemort.
Voldemort rolled his eyes. Yes, the thought of a threesome with himself and Hermione had already entered his mind. “Of course I am, but you know that won’t work right now. We have to be fast.”
“Such a shame.” The clone sighed.
“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“Nothing,” Voldemort and the clone replied in unison. Then, they looked at each other and snickered.
Hermione shook her head, annoyed. A tuft of her hair sprang lose from her twist and fell against her neck. Voldemort couldn’t stop the impulse of going up to her and fastening it again. Hermione tensed the moment his hand touched her head, but as always, there was that little pulse of pleasure between them. She stepped away, uncomfortable.
“Do you have to do that?” she asked in a low voice.
“I’ll need all the power I can get if I am to pull this off without harming anyone or letting them harm me. I’m going up against thirty Order members and trained Aurors after all.” He paused. “You don’t want me to fail, do you?”
She looked like she wasn’t sure what to answer. That wasn’t a good sign.
“Ouch,” the clone commented. “You really screwed up last night.”
Voldemort grimaced. This was another reason why he didn’t use clones often; they tended to comment on things the creator was thinking out loud. It was probably because they used to be a part of the creator. Those were his thoughts, but out loud.
“Shut up,” Voldemort advised the clone. “Kitten, please remove your knickers.”
Hermione, however, seemed to find the clone much more interesting. She went up to it and took its hand.
“He doesn’t feel like you,” she said, looking at Voldemort.
Voldemort frowned and joined them, taking the clone’s other hand. “In what way?”
“The spark isn’t there,” Hermione answered. “It must be because he has no magic. Does that make him better?”
The clone chuckled, and Voldemort saw a glint of sneakiness enter the clone’s eyes. Oh great, now the clone was going to manipulate Hermione into liking it better. Exactly like he would have done. Damn.
“Of course I’m better. Unlike him, I only live to be with you tonight.”
Hermione looked a bit bemused by this.
“Don’t even think about it,” Voldemort growled at his clone.
The clone gave him an innocent expression. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”
“You will be dissolved in a bit more than twelve hours; getting on Hermione’s good side won’t help you,” Voldemort said.
“Maybe I was trying to get on her good side for your benefit,” the clone said innocently. “You do feel sorry; you’re just worried Hermione will find you weak and start to take advantage of you. However, I don’t have to worry about that. All I have to do is show her how much we actually care for her.”
“So you can get into her knickers,” Voldemort filled in through clench teeth. “Stop playing with her. We still have a plan to follow through. Go away.”
“That’s not very nice to say to yourself,” Hermione noted, a hint of amusement in her voice.
“We are on a tight schedule,” Voldemort reminded her. “Now, drop your knickers.”
Hermione gave him a scolding look. “Can’t I have sex with the clone instead?”
The clone gave Voldemort a look of triumph.
Voldemort ignored it. “No, I need the magic. Why would you want to have sex with it anyway?”
“He isn’t you,” Hermione replied.
“He is where it counts, believe me,” Voldemort growled.
“I think you should let our fiancée choose whom she wants to sleep with,” the clone purred and brought up Hermione’s hand to its lips, kissing it.
Voldemort was certain that the clone only wanted to test if it could harvest magic from Hermione. That was what he would have tried, after all.
“She is my fiancée,” Voldemort said forcefully and took a hold of Hermione’s other hand. “And I am the one who needs the magic.”
The clone looked ready to argue, but Hermione interrupted it.
“Merlin! I am not a doll. I won’t have sex with either of you. Besides, we don’t have time for it anymore. It’s been almost half an hour now. Pretty soon, people will start wondering where we are.”
Voldemort glanced at the clock and realised she was right. He pressed his lips together in frustration.
“Fine. But that will alter my plans slightly since I won’t have the energy I originally counted on. Remember that’s because of you.” He smiled coldly at Hermione. “Bring the clone back here when it will no longer be suspicious. I’ll see you later.”
He Apparated away before Hermione had a chance to protest.
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