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
- 31
- 32
- 33
Happy Holidays! Here is a belated gift from me to you.

As always, I want to thank Nerys and Shan84 for taking their time to beta. Someday, when we are both much, much older, I’ll have learned those grammar rules, Nerys. I hope.

I also want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing. You can find your review replies here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/20494-shared-flame-by-lady-miya/

Chapter 31
“Althea,” the whisper came softly from underneath the transfigured bed Althea was lying in. The girl woke up the moment she recognised the voice.
“Shadow!” she exclaimed in a low voice. She knew her parents didn’t want her to meet her shadow friend anymore, but Althea had missed it. That was why she had hoped that the shadow would come and visit her today when her parents were busy.
“Hello, Althea.” The little shadow snake made its way up the bed. “How are you?”
“I got pink ice cream today,” Althea answered happily, but she still kept her voice as low as she could. There were other children in here, and they were all sleeping. Althea didn’t want them to wake up and see her shadow friend. Then they would no doubt tell some adult, and Althea’s parents would be mad.
“How nice,” the shadow friend replied. “How have you been lately? I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you.”
“Dad said you couldn’t come back,” Althea said, pouting. “Why can’t you?”
“Your parents cast a spell to keep me out. But it doesn’t matter. When you have grown up a bit, I’ll be back, and then, we can continue to play. Would you like that?”
Althea nodded adamantly.
“But how long will that take?” Althea wondered. She had missed the fun games she and her shadow friend had played. No one else had the time to play with her.
“We are trying to find a way to come back to you,” the shadow answered. “But I’m here right now. Why don’t we play some of the magic games?”
Althea happily agreed.

xxx

Hermione cursed Voldemort’s existence when he Apparated away. Insufferable man.
“Don’t worry about him,” the clone said in a chipper tone. “He is just horny and cranky.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better at all,” Hermione replied. “He is going to attack my friends, and then, it’s not good a good sign that he is cranky.”
“But could you have fucked him?” the clone wondered.
Hermione glanced at him. How could someone look and talk exactly like Voldemort, and yet, be so different?
“I don’t know if I could have had sex with him. Not happily.”
“He doesn’t want to force you into having sex. Manipulate you, maybe; but not force you,” the clone said. “He will be careful not to do that again.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this? You are a copy of him. Shouldn’t you be more secretive?”
The clone shrugged. “He thinks very far ahead and doesn’t want to reveal things that may come back to bite him later. I don’t have to bother with the long term. I just need to get you to like me right now.”
She regarded him, unsure if she could trust what he said. It did make sense, but as he had said, he wanted her to like him. Probably because he wanted to have sex with her. However, if he told her the truth, then this was quite an opportunity for her to gain insight into Voldemort’s reasoning. The problem was that she wasn’t sure where to start. Nor did she have the time to explore it. They had to get back to the wedding.
“Are you ready to get back?” she asked and gripped his hand.
The clone nodded, and a dizzying moment later, they were standing behind the same tree they had left from. Not letting go of the clone’s hand, Hermione went to the pathway. They were just coming in the view of the tent when Ron and a brunette stumbled out from a dense shrubbery. It was not hard to guess what they had been doing.
“Oh. Hi,” Ron said, spluttering just a little. “We were just looking at the … er, flowers.”
The woman giggled and nodded.
“Er ... same,” Hermione replied.
“Oh. Right. Of course. Er …” Ron trailed off, unease filling his eyes. “Well, I guess we should go back to the others or something.”
“I guess we should,” Hermione agreed and started to drag the clone back towards the feast.
Ron and his “friend” followed.
“Er ... Hermione,” Ron said when they were almost at the tent.
Hermione stopped, looking at her former best friend. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding much more sober. “I really am. I understand if you can never forgive me and never want to see me again, but I want you to know that I’m sorry.”
Agony was shining out from his eyes. Hermione felt her feelings for him soften just a little. But he was right, she couldn’t forgive him. Not yet. It didn’t matter that he had been magically manipulated into doing it, they both knew that there was a small part of him that had wanted to murder her child. She couldn’t forget or forgive that.
But she nodded, acknowledging his apology. Then she turned back to the tent again.
“I’d like to kill him,” the clone mumbled softly as they entered the tent.
Hermione snorted. “That’s more like the Voldemort I know. But you can’t. I may not want to talk to him, but I don’t want him to be harmed. It was the fairies’ fault.”
“I know. Or I mean, both me and the real me know that. He won’t hurt your friends either,” the clone reassured her.
She hoped it was true.
They came up to where the other guests had gathered, just in time to see Harry and Ginny slice their wedding cake together. It was classic three storey cake with lots of blue and white frosting. The magical touch were the colourful lights at the top, forming an H entwined with a G.
Everyone applauded and cheered as Harry and Ginny gave each other a spoonful of cake. A little piece of cream landed on Ginny’s chin, so Harry leaned in and kissed it away. A few people laughed, and next to her, Hermione heard the clone snort. She found her best friends cute. At once, the horrible guilt returned to her heart. Soon, their day would be ruined by Lord Voldemort showing up. When she and the clone got a piece of the cake, she found it impossible to swallow. It tasted delicious, but all saliva seemed to have disappeared from her mouth. She finally managed to force it down with some water and pushed the rest of the cake away. The clone eyed her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in a low voice.
“Horrible,” she admitted weakly.
The clone moved his chair closer to hers and put an arm around her shoulders. “We are doing this for our family, Hermione. For Althea and this little one.” He placed his other hand on her stomach. “Your friends will survive.”
“But their wedding day will be ruined,” she whispered.
The clone kissed her forehead and gave her shoulder another squeeze before he went back to eating his cake.
Once the cake was finished, it was time for the wedding waltz. Harry led Ginny out on the dance floor after a little magic had taken care of all the tables and chairs. He held her close as they slowly moved over the floor. Hermione noticed that Harry seemed to have taken some dance lessons since the last time she had seen him dance in their fourth year. Or maybe he was just more comfortable with Ginny in his arms than he had been with Parvati Patil.
When the first dance ended, all the other couples joined the newlyweds on the dance floor, including Hermione and the clone. The clone was just as excellent at dancing as Voldemort had claimed he would be. However, being touched by the clone felt a lot different from what she was used to with Voldemort. His touch didn’t send spark after spark with pleasure thought her nerve endings, but it wasn’t unpleasant either. Actually, it was quite good.
She had come to associate Voldemort with the pleasurable sparks. So, when she didn’t feel them upon being touched, she just couldn’t see that person as Voldemort. Therefore, even though she knew the clone was Voldemort, she didn’t feel like it was him, emotionally. He was just … well, hers for the night.
As he held her tight, swaying to the music, Hermione wondered if he were trying to comfort her or if he were just dancing. For some reason, he seemed to want to apologise for what Voldemort had done the other night. He had said that both he and the real Voldemort wanted to apologise, but the real Voldemort was afraid to look weak. Was that true or just, as the real Voldemort had suggested, a way to manipulate her?
Well, since he was the clone of Voldemort, she guessed the latter was to be expected. Yet, there was a difference between them, besides the touching thing. The clone just seemed more … easy going.
Then again, that was the way she had felt about Marcus before she found out he was really Voldemort. So maybe the clone was just manipulating her as Voldemort had done back then.
Oh well, the clone would be gone by the next morning, so if he behaved like a gentleman until then, Hermione could at least enjoy it.
“Oh, looks like we are about to see something happen,” the clone whispered into her ear, making her look up.
He slowly spun her around, and Hermione could see an unfamiliar man walk up to Ginny, asking her to dance. Hermione narrowed her eyes; there was something strangely familiar about …
Oh, fuck, that was Voldemort!
She tensed, ready to save her friend, but the clone held her tightly.
“We have to let this play out.”
Yes, that was the plan. However, Voldemort hadn’t mentioned a thing about dancing with Ginny. Was this the “adjustment” he had talked about? She didn’t like it one bit.
Hermione could see Ginny hesitating before accepting to dance with the stranger. Hermione was surprised she accepted at all. Then again, there were a lot of people at the party, and Ginny had admitted once or twice at being bad at remembering who all of the guests were. If Hermione knew her friend, Ginny didn’t want to be rude.
Hermione watched with a sinking feeling in her stomach as Voldemort began to dance with Ginny. He was leading them towards the side of the dance floor where it was less crowded. Hermione nudged the clone to follow them while she looked around to see if Harry had noticed anything. Unfortunately, Harry was at the other side of the dance floor with Mrs Weasley, looking mostly at their feet than at the people around them.
When Hermione turned her head back to Ginny again, Voldemort was leaning in, whispering something in her ear. At the same time, he changed his glamour.
Ginny let out a high-pitched scream, and Hermione felt herself grow pale. Voldemort was looking like he had four years ago: bald, pale and snakelike. Everyone on the dance floor stopped. When they saw who had joined them, a few people ran to take cover while others started to scream and some merely gaped. One couple fainted. Voldemort’s glowing red eyes were shining in amusement.
“If anyone moves or tries to take up a wand, you’ll soon be celebrating Mrs Ginevra Potter’s burial,” he said, his voice enhanced by a Sonorus spell. Hermione could see him raise a shield around himself and Ginny as he spoke.
Since Hermione and the clone were the closest to Voldemort, Hermione also saw that Voldemort made a gesture with his wand over Ginny. The redhead went still in his arms, but she still seemed to be aware of what was happening. Her eyes moved over the crowd before coming to rest on Harry. He stood utterly frozen a few yards away. Mrs Weasley was standing right behind him, looking completely shocked.
“Release my wife!” Harry demanded, sounding both angry and scared.
“You know, I don’t see a single reason why I should do that,” Voldemort replied smugly.
“What do you want, then?” Harry asked, clearly trying to mask his fear but failing.
“Well, I heard you were getting married and I assumed my invitation got lost in the mail. I am rather hard to find, after all. But of course, I had to come and pay my respects,” Voldemort said sweetly. “I was Ginny’s best friend her whole first year at Hogwarts, after all.”
Hermione frowned, recalling the time Ginny had been possessed by Tom Riddle’s diary. How much did Voldemort really know about that? She understood that Voldemort had found out what Malfoy had done with his diary, but did he remember it? He had never mentioned it. Somehow, Hermione doubted that he did. If he had remembered, then he would have been more careful around Ginny from the start. After all, Ginny had told that diary everything and communicated with it for ages.
No, Voldemort must have calculated how the Horcrux had acted when it was interacting with Ginny.
“What do you want?” Harry asked more forcefully this time.
“You have once again become a thorn in my side, Potter. Therefore, I want to have a talk with you. Just the two of us.”
Hermione’s frown deepened. Voldemort hadn’t mentioned wanting to talk with Harry when they had discussed the plan. He had said that it would be enough to just cause some havoc. It wasn’t that weird considering their history. Then again, Voldemort had said there would be a change in the plan since he didn’t have the power. Perhaps his new pretend reason for showing up at the wedding was this “talk”?
“As a guarantee,” Voldemort continued slowly. “I’ll be borrowing your wife here. If you don’t come alone to the prince’s castle, something very unpleasant will happen to her.”
“No!” Hermione called out, almost forgetting herself by stepping forward, but the clone held her back.
Her shout, however, made Ginny look in her direction. Ginny’s eyes widened slightly, possibly to the fact that “Marcus” was standing right behind Hermione.
Voldemort, on the other hand, didn’t take his eyes of Harry. “You have one hour.”
With that, he Disapparated both himself and Ginny away.
The moment they were gone, chaos ensued. Everyone shouted questions about where Voldemort could have possibly taken Ginny. Arthur Weasley shouted a few less flattering things about the dark wizard. Hermione felt her own anger rising. Voldemort had made up a whole new plan without her. What could he possibly gain by kidnapping Ginny?
Is he only doing this to hurt me for not fucking him?
“Where did he take her?” Hermione hissed in a low voice to the clone.
“You can’t just show up,” the clone mumbled back. “That will make all this for nothing.”
“He is going to hurt her!”
“No, he isn’t. He was bluffing. Didn’t you see how weak his shield was? He doesn’t want to risk duelling more than one at a time. Baiting Harry is the most reasonable thing for him to do,” the clone explained, always glancing around to make sure no one was listening in. “He’ll make up a reason why he went for Ginevra and why he wants to talk to Harry. He’ll probably make a few threats, put Harry on the wrong track by thinking he is after something completely different and then let them leave when he is done.”
Hermione looked at him suspiciously. What he said was logical, but that didn’t make her any less mad at Voldemort for kidnapping one of her best friends to some “prince’s castle”, wherever that was.
Of course! Merlin, she had been so angry with him that she hadn’t realised the hint to Snape, the Half-Blood Prince. Had Harry figured it out?
“Stay here,” she told the clone before making her way through the crowd that was surrounding Harry.
“Harry!” she said, grabbing his arms. “I figured it out.”
“Me, too,” he said. “But I have to go alone. You heard him.”
Hermione sighed and nodded. “Do you know where it is?”
“No, but I know where I can find the information, which means I have to go now.” The last bit was directed to everyone.
“She is my daughter!” Molly Weasley objected. “I’ll come with you.”
“No!” Harry said forcefully.
The other people in the tent quieted down.
“I won’t risk anything happening to Ginny. I’ll go, but I’ll be sure to call for backup if things get out of hand.”
Hermione saw him exchange a look with one of the Aurors. They must have a way to call for each other, despite whatever ward would be in the way.
“How can you just follow his directions?” George asked, sounding very angry. “It must be a trap.”
“I don’t care! She is my wife! I’ll come straight to you when I have her,” Harry promised, looking at the Weasleys. “Now I really have to go.”
He backed away from them all and Disapparated. That made most of the Weasleys turn to Hermione.
“Did you know what You-Know-Who was talking about? Where did he take Ginny?” Molly asked.
“Look, nothing will help if we just rush in after them,” Kingsley said as he joined them. “Harry will call us when it’s safe to bring in backup.”
“But ...” Arthur tried.
“No,” Kingsley said. “All we can do is make sure to be ready if Harry needs us. Creevey, go back to the Ministry and tell them what has happened here.”
Fast and effectively, Kingsley began to organise them all. People started to leave.
“Do you want to get back at him?” the clone asked Hermione in a low voice.
It took her a second before she realised he was talking about Voldemort. She looked at him, an eyebrow arched in question.
The clone smiled. “I have an idea. Fake that you aren’t feeling well so we can get away from here.”
Hermione didn’t mind doing that. There was nothing more to do in the tent anyway; they could just as well leave. Therefore, she had the clone exchange a few words with Neville as she went to pick up the sleeping Althea. She was yearning to get back at Voldemort.

xxx

Voldemort looked at the woman he had dumped on the bed in what had once been Wormtail’s hideaway behind the bookcase. The house looked exactly as it had four years ago, only much dustier. Snape hadn’t had any heirs, and a long time ago, he had made his house repellent to Muggles. Few wizards knew where it was and the ones who did were locked up in Azkaban.
Voldemort couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to come here. It was a really depressing house. Dark, cold and in dire need of a renovation. Perhaps it would be better demolished.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he focused on the mission at hand. Soon, Potter would be here, and he had to make Ginevra think he had another reason for taking her, apart from her seeing that he wasn’t “Marcus”.
“Ginevra,” he said softly as he released her from the spell he had immobilised her with. “I don’t think we have been properly introduced. However, I do know about your escapades with my diary. It’s a pleasure finally meeting you face-to-face.”
The redhead swallowed and quickly moved to a sitting position.
“W-what do you want with Harry?” Ginevra stuttered. Fear was shining from her eyes.
“Your husband has started to dig through things he shouldn’t with his Auror friends. This is a friendly warning.”
It was, of course, absolute nonsense. However, Voldemort knew what Potter was working on at the moment: the corpses Voldemort had dumped in the ocean. Voldemort also knew that the Aurors thought they had found a way to find him by using a device that could detect a certain magical signature. It would of course be unsuccessful, but the Aurors didn’t know that yet. And if Lord Voldemort showed up and looked as if he were worried about it, they would keep wasting time on the device. It was a win-win situation for Voldemort.
“Harry will kill you,” Ginevra said, looking like she was trying to convince herself rather than him.
Voldemort chuckled. “Now, Ginevra, we both know that isn’t true. He will come, cast a few hexes and curse my very existence. I’ll get my message to him and then I’ll be off on my merry way. But before that, I want to look inside that pretty little head of yours. If you stay still, I won’t have to bind you.”
Of course, she struggled, but Voldemort didn’t mind binding her with the same spell he had used before. He needed to see how she had figured out who he was. But he had to be careful so she didn’t realise that was what he was trying to find.
Therefore, he spent the next five minutes looking through her memories of Potter. He accidentally-on-purpose stumbled over her memories of Marcus Foster. When he saw that, he cursed himself for not taking precautions sooner. Ginny had figured out who he really was, but she hadn’t really wanted to believe it. That was why she hadn’t confronted him or told anyone. Now she was relieved that she hadn’t. She even felt stupid for ever thinking Marcus could be Voldemort just because they both spoke Parseltongue. She had just seen Marcus while Voldemort was standing behind her.
But he wouldn’t comment on that now. That could give rise to new suspicions. Instead, he had other things to taunt her with. He released her mind and straightened, placing a hand on her belly.
“A little Potter junior. Now isn’t that a treat? Did you know that just one dose of the Cruciatus causes a miscarriage?”
“You can’t.” Ginevra winced.
He smiled. “As long as you and Potter behave, I won’t have to. You can have your perfect, little family for all I care. Just make sure your husband leaves me alone.”
“He won’t leave you alone if you hurt me or the child,” Ginny hissed; anger was mixing with her fear.
“I know. If I have to kill you, I’ll make sure to kill him as well. Don’t worry about it,” Voldemort said sweetly.
Right then, one of Voldemort’s wards went off, telling him that Potter had arrived and was trying to break into the house.
“Oh, sounds like your prince in shining armour has arrived,” Voldemort said and stood up. “Please make yourself comfortable while you wait.”
Before she had time to react, Voldemort left the room, warding the bookcase behind him. It was time to deal with Potter.
Voldemort had already made himself comfortable in the black armchair when Potter stormed through the door. He was alone, just as Voldemort had predicted.
“Hello Harry,” Voldemort said softly.
His wand was in his hand, ready to fight back at a moment’s notice. Even though he wasn’t up to his full strength, he was still stronger than most wizards and had half a century more experience than Potter. It shouldn’t be too hard to beat the boy if he needed.
“Where is she?” Potter growled, his hand gripping his wand tightly.
“Locked up behind a ward no one but me can break through,” Voldemort answered, amused by the boy’s anger. “You can have her back when I’m confident you have understood my message.”
“Which is?” Harry asked.
“You have been doing naughty things with your Auror friends, Harry. If you don’t stop what you are doing, I’ll make things even between us,” Voldemort replied.
“Make things even?” Harry repeated in disbelief.
“I do seem to recall you taking away my whole family of Death Eaters. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t return the favour?”
Potter pressed his lips together. “You have already taken away my entire family once before.”
Voldemort waved his hands dismissively. “Parents. What good are they? No, Harry, the family that counts is the one you create yourself.”
Something in that statement made Potter’s eyes widen in sudden recognition. He stared at Voldemort as if he were seeing him for the first time. Then he started to back away, slowly.
“No. No. It can’t be. Impossible.”
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “What are you muttering about, Potter?”
“Parseltongue!” Potter exclaimed. “Oh, bloody hell, how could I not see it? Parseltongue for Merlin’s sake!”
He knew. Oh. Fucking. Hell.
At once, Voldemort turned offensive. He started to throw hexes at Potter—not deadly ones, but something that would immobilise the boy so he could think about what to do next. Potter managed to put up defences, but as Voldemort advanced physically, Potter had to retreat backwards. The boy had just taken a few steps when he stumbled over a loose board and fell on the floor. That was all Voldemort needed.
With one movement, he put Potter under the same spell he had used on Ginevra. He bent down, took Potter’s wand and made sure the boy didn’t have any other hidden weapons on him. Once that was done, Voldemort sat down on the floor with a sigh.
Well, this was not good. What was he supposed to do now?
It would have been satisfying to kill both him and the woman upstairs. For a little while. Then Hermione would make him regret it. He had already come to the conclusion that he wanted her the way she had been before last night. Perhaps this could help him make it better? If he spared them, he would make sure to tell Hermione. She would have to be grateful. Then they could have sex.
His mind made up, he started to muse over how he could make sure Harry didn’t do anything with his newfound knowledge. A memory charm would not work on an Auror; they got tested regularly to see that they weren’t under the influence of any type of magic. Potter had also figured it out after he had seen Marcus and Voldemort at the same place at the same time. That meant the trick that had fooled Ginevra wouldn’t fool Potter even if they tried it again.
Voldemort looked at the boy again. “How can someone as easily manipulated as you cause me so many problems?”
He flicked his wand, giving Potter control over his voice again but keeping the rest of his body unmoving. “What have you done with Hermione?”
Voldemort sighed. “Always so worried about others when you are the one in immediate danger.”
“What have you done to her?” Potter asked again, sounding more worried than angry.
“I do think the condition she is in speaks for itself,” Voldemort remarked dryly. “But if you want to know positions …?”
The boy looked horrified. “You must have cast some spell on her!”
“No, why would I?”
Voldemort didn’t think Potter needed to know about the spell preventing her from saying anything that could expose him. It was more fun if Potter thought she had betrayed him.
“Does she even know who you are?” Potter asked.
“Well, if she didn’t, all the cries of ‘Voldemort’ in bed would have been quite disturbing.”
Potter looked as if he were going to be sick. Voldemort stretched out next to him, lying down on his side, supporting his head with his elbow on the ground.
“Hermione is mine now, Potter. If you, or anyone else, try to take her away from me, I’ll be most displeased,” he stated softly. “However, you are in luck. Since Hermione makes me so happy, I want her to be happy and am willing to compromise to make sure she stays happy. To some extent, at least.”
He told Potter because he hoped that Potter would tell Hermione on a later date. Another thing that would make Hermione less angry with him, hopefully.
“For some reason, Hermione is your friend. She is irrational that way. Nonetheless, I’m willing to let you walk out of here, safe and sound, because of this. But—” He paused with a stern look at Potter. “—I can’t risk you running around, free to tell everyone my secret.”
Potter was looking at him with a mixture of disbelief, anger and just a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. “What do you plan to do?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Voldemort replied and sat up on the floor. “Have you ever heard of the Occulta Mors curse?”
He smirked as he saw a flash of horror cross Potter’s face. The idea behind the Occulta Mors was similar to the spell he had used on Hermione to keep her from revealing his identity, but much darker. It was mostly used to make people keep things hidden, death being the outcome if they failed. It differed from an Unbreakable Vow in the way that it didn’t need two willing parts.
“By the look on your face, I assume you have heard of the curse,” Voldemort commented happily. “Well, then you know that if you utter one word that will reveal my identity to anyone, you’ll lose something you hold dear. In this case, I’m going to tie the curse to your wife.”
The panic on Potter’s face was absolutely delicious.

xxx

It didn’t take more than twenty minutes to get home and get Althea back into bed. The little girl hardly woke up and was like a zombie when Hermione brushed her teeth. She fell back into a deep sleep the moment Hermione pulled the covers over her.
When she came out to the living room, the clone was not in sight, but the light was on in the bedroom. She walked there and found the clone standing at the mirror next to the wardrobe with an unreadable expression on his face.
“What are you doing?” Hermione asked as she sat down on the bed. She was tired and angry, and her feet were swollen.
“It should be annoying, being just a clone,” he answered, unbuttoning the dress robe. “If I were really Voldemort and knew that I only had about ten hours left to live, I would have been in a panic. But I’m not. Because I’m not really alive. It’s very peculiar.”
“What do you mean you aren’t really alive? What are you, then?” Hermione asked.
“A manifestation, I suppose you could say. A picture, but more advanced. I act and think like he does, but I’m not …” he trailed off, seemingly unsure what the right word was. “I’m not an independent being. I do what he created me to do. I can’t find the will to do anything else.”
“And what was that?”
“Make sure the plan works. Keep you company. Make you happy,” he added the last with a smile in her direction. He folded the robe and hung it in the wardrobe. Underneath, he was wearing blue tailored trousers and a white shirt.
Hermione arched an eyebrow. “So, if I said I wanted my feet massaged ...?”
“I’d be happy to do it,” he filled in and walked over to the bed.
She moved her feet so he could sit down. Once he had, she put her feet in his lap, leaning back against the pillows.
“That is also why I can help you get back at him,” he said as he started to rub the sole of her left foot. “In our mind, we feel better after getting our revenge. I’m hoping this will help you as well.”
Hermione thought about it. It was true that getting back at someone who had wronged you felt very good. However, if she used violence, it would no doubt make things worse between them. Voldemort would just strike back. Then again, the clone knew that.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked. It couldn’t hurt asking, right?
The clone smirked. “Have sex with me. It isn’t cheating since I’m him, and he can’t hurt me for it. But he will hate it since he isn’t the one that you are sleeping with. Yet, he won’t be able to do anything about it.”
“So you mean I should get back at him by pissing him off?” Hermione paused. “I may not know everything about him, but I know that I don’t like seeing him angry. It usually results in someone’s death.”
“Ah, but he wants you to accept him again. The magical power you give him is worth quite a lot. Much more than the satisfaction of a killing. He won’t kill since that would make you even more reluctant to sleep with him.”
Hermione was very intrigued by hearing the clone’s reasoning. If it were true, that meant she had power over her fiancé. He would definitely hate it if he found out she knew that. Perhaps she could use the clone to get to know more about Voldemort?
She looked at the clone who had moved to massage her other foot. “Is that all he sees me as: a really good fuck?”
The clone chuckled. “No. He respects you. And believe me, getting Lord Voldemort’s respect is something to be very proud of. He trusts you more than he has trusted any other human before. He even likes you.”
She snorted, not sure she could believe him. “Then, why did he continue to fuck me even though I asked him to stop?”
“Because he wanted to,” the clone said.
“But if he respects me, shouldn’t he respect my wishes?” she asked.
The clone arched an eyebrow. “You are talking about the former Dark Lord, Hermione. He has lived his whole life by taking what he wants. He is used to it. Even though he respects you and is willing to compromise for you, that always weighs up against how much he wants something else. Last night, your wellbeing didn’t weigh as much as his need to control you.”
Hermione considered it. That did sound like the Voldemort she knew. “Why does he want to control me?”
The clone carefully put her foot down on the mattress and moved up next to her on the bed. “Because he wants you, and he can only have what he can control.”
“So he doesn’t trust me to always give him what he wants of me,” she concluded.
“Exactly.”
The insight saddened her. How was she supposed to live with that? She knew it was useless to think that she could change him. You can’t force anyone to change; they have to want it themselves. But how could she just accept that this was the sort of person Voldemort was? It wasn’t right. She didn’t like it.
It was a one of those deal breakers in a relationship. If Voldemort had been any other man, Hermione would have left him for that. But Voldemort wasn’t any other man. He was fucking Lord Voldemort and would never let her leave.
Suddenly, it was all too much. She let out a shriek of anger, and the lamps in the room exploded. Not only that, but the sudden darkness from outside told her that even more lamps had exploded. She felt drained: physically, magically and mentally. How on earth was she supposed to handle it all?
She didn’t realise she was crying until she felt a hand on her face, wiping away the tears.
He didn’t feel like Voldemort. That was why she could lean in against him and take comfort from him. The clone showed how unlike Voldemort he was when he didn’t withdraw. Instead, he did something Voldemort had never done: he hugged her tightly and simply held her as she cried. Which was exactly what she needed.
She didn’t know if the clone actually cared about her, but he acted like he did. That was all that mattered right now. She only needed the comfort.
Afterwards, she wasn’t sure how it had happened, but all of a sudden, they were kissing. She almost sucked the comfort out from him, clinging to him as she kissed him forcefully. She needed him.

xxx

Voldemort felt drained when he had finally cast the Occulta Mors over Potter and his wife. The glamour he had used to look like his old self had already disappeared. Potter stared at him in agony when he finished. The boy was sitting on the bed with his unconscious wife in his lap.
“You understand, then, Potter?” Voldemort asked, carefully hiding how tired he was. Two very complex spells in one night was not something many people could handle. He needed rest. Possibly a fuck with Hermione.
“If I tell anyone about you or try to hurt you in any way, Ginny will die,” Potter said, his voice hollow.
Voldemort nodded. “Good. And this isn’t a spell that allows mistakes. I’ve given you the only chance you’ll get. Even if you are willing to risk your wife’s life, do know that I’ll kill whoever you tell and you as well.”
“You are a monster.”
“Oh, no, how will I be able to look at myself in the mirror?” Voldemort asked dryly, rolling his eyes. “Your wife will wake up once I’ve left. Enjoy your wedding night!”
With that, Voldemort collected the last of his energy and Apparated back to his and Hermione’s flat.
It was completely black in the flat when he arrived. He found the light switch, but nothing happened. Frowning, he lit his wand. The light from it was dim, a display of how exhausted he was. He made his way to the bedroom and heard the unmistakable sound of Hermione’s sexual moans coming from inside.
He opened the door.
From the light of his wand, he could see Hermione on top of his clone, riding him slowly. Voldemort was shocked. How? Why?
In one way, he wasn’t surprised. The clone was his clone after all. He had known this was a risk. At the same time, he felt betrayed by Hermione. How could she do this to him?
If he hadn’t been so exhausted, he would have started to cast curses all around. As it was, he barely found the energy to fix the light in the room so he could let go of the Lumos Spell. Once he had, Hermione turned her head, looking at him.
It was obvious that she had been crying up until recently. Her eyes were red and so was her nose. She stilled her movements.
“How did it go?”
Voldemort went up to the bed. He looked from the clone to Hermione, back to the clone. “You are having sex with my clone, and you are wondering how it went?” he asked in disbelief.
The clone smiled at him. “Well, is that so strange? You know how worried she is about her friends.”
“You are having sex. With someone other than me,” Voldemort said slowly and aimed his wand at her. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you both right now.”
The clone snorted. “Hello, I’m a clone. I’m not alive to begin with. And I’m a part of you, so technically, she is sleeping with you. You just aren’t feeling it.”
Voldemort aimed his wand at him and prepared to cast the spell that would destroy the clone. However, just as he was about to utter the words, he felt like someone had flicked a switch at him. He hissed and pressed his hand against his head instead. It had begun throbbing like crazy. Salazar, he needed rest. He stumbled to the bed and fell upon it.
“Oh, isn’t this interesting?” the clone observed mildly. “Hermione, dear, as wonderful as it is to be inside you, I think we have to pay some attention to the real me.”
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.
Voldemort could feel the bed shift when she moved. He tried to get up. He couldn’t show himself weak, not now.
“Magical exhaustion. It happens. With rest, he will be better. That is, if he doesn’t try to kill us both now. Then he could give himself a heart attack,” the clone explained.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Hermione muttered and moved away from the clone. She took her wand and aimed it at him.
For a moment, Voldemort thought she would curse him, but all she did was make his clothes disappear. Then she made a motion to pull the covers over him, but he stopped her by grasping her wrist.
“What?” she asked, sounding annoyed.
“What are you doing?” he wondered. He might not want to do magic right now, but he could still talk without problem.
“He said you needed rest. I figured I’d just tuck you in so I could go back having sex while I wait for you to gather the strength to tell me what happened with Ginny and Harry.”
His grip on her wrist tightened, and he was about to tell her she couldn’t when a better idea hit him. Or well, not better precisely, but it was what he needed right now.
He looked at the clone. “Take her from behind. I’ll harvest the magical energy as she orgasms.”
“What?” Hermione cried. “Do you think I’ll have sex right in front of you?”
“It didn’t bother you a few minutes ago,” he reminded her tiredly.
“But—”
“Do you want to know what happened to your friends or not?” he asked, cutting her off.
Hermione glared daggers at him. The clone sat up behind her and pressed a kiss against her shoulder.
“I know you want to, Hermione,” it mumbled against her skin. “You were so close when he came. Don’t you want to finish?”
Voldemort could see that she was horny, despite her anger at him. But as the clone’s hand moved down over her stomach and in between her legs, the anger in her eyes lessened.
“You are practically dripping,” the clone said as it kissed its way up her neck. “Does it turn you on, having someone watching? Or is it the sweet satisfaction knowing he will have to watch as someone else is making you come? It could be your revenge at him for what he did. He can’t please you now, and it’s eating him up inside.”
Voldemort growled, his wandhand itching to kill the clone. This seemed to convince Hermione. She tilted her head and met the clone in a kiss. As they kissed, the clone moved Hermione so she was lying on her side, facing Voldemort.
Voldemort moved closer to her, determined to be a part of this in some way. He might be too tired to have sex right now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use his body in other ways.
The clone moved Hermione’s knee up on Voldemort’s thigh before embracing her from behind. Hermione let out a soft moan as the clone entered her. Her eyes were closed, but when Voldemort brought his hand up and stroked her cheek, she opened them again. Her gaze was glassy. She was so beautiful, and he cursed that he wasn’t the one who was inside her right now. Voldemort stroked her lip with his thumb, letting it move inside her mouth. She met the finger with her tongue.
Their eyes met again, and for a moment, it was like nothing had happened between them. He removed his thumb and used his hand to bring her closer to him. Their lips met in a searing kiss. Hermione moaned loudly into his mouth, her hand coming up to his head, gripping his hair. She was sucking on his lower lip almost painfully, but Voldemort didn’t mind.
Another hand came up on Voldemort’s shoulder. He opened one eye and saw the clone giving him a nod. She was about to come. Closing his eyes again, Voldemort prepared to receive the magical energy. At first, it was only a small thread of magic, but Voldemort inhaled it as if it were oxygen. When she climaxed, it rushed into him and he fell like a thirsty man caught in a waterfall. It was almost too much too fast, but Voldemort forced himself to absorb it all. He needed it.
As she came down from her high, Voldemort felt like a new man. A horny, new man. He hadn’t got to have sex all day, and there was a hot, naked, moaning woman in front of him.
Before she had time to react, he pulled her closer to him, making the clone slip out of her. He then pushed inside of her, moaning in pleasure.
“Oi!” the clone growled. “I wasn’t finished!”
“I’m ever so sad for you,” Voldemort said, shuddering with pleasure at being inside her. Home sweet home.
“Voldemort,” Hermione groaned. “You can’t just— Ah!”
He had adjusted his angle, hitting her G-spot. He knew her body well enough to be sure that the movement would shut her up for a little while.
The clone, however, wasn’t pleased. “Then you suck me off.”
Voldemort glared at him, never once missing a stroke inside Hermione. “You, more than anyone else, know I don’t suck off other men.”
“I’m not ‘other men’. I’m you!” the clone complained and sat up in the bed. “Very well, I didn’t want to do this …”
The clone trailed off and stuck a finger into its mouth.
If Voldemort hadn’t been so focused on Hermione, he might have realised what the clone was up to. It was, after all, something he would have done if he had been in the same position as the clone. As it were now, he was rather shocked when the clone moved behind Voldemort. The next moment, Voldemort felt something wet against his anus.
Voldemort fell on top of Hermione when the finger found his prostate. It was a long time since anyone had stimulated his prostate that way, because Voldemort didn’t like it. Or rather, he liked it a bit too much. He liked taking his time during sex and always controlled his own orgasm. When someone pushed against his prostate, the climax overtook him in a matter of seconds. Thus, he had an orgasm.
He was still trembling in post-orgasmic bliss when he was pushed aside by the clone who immediately took his place between Hermione’s legs.
“You two are driving me insane!” Hermione cried.
“He started it,” the clone remarked before leaning in and kissing her.
Voldemort got control over himself and grabbed his wand at the same time as the clone climaxed as well.
When the clone saw the wand, it smiled. “So worth it.”
Voldemort disintegrated it.
“What did you do that for?” Hermione growled.
“He fucked you,” Voldemort spat. He didn’t mention the finger. Hermione shouldn’t know that.
“He was your clone! He was only cheering me up,” Hermione objected. “He said making me happy was part of his reason for being, because you had thought about that when you created him.”
Voldemort stared down at her. Could that be true? Sure, he had wanted Hermione to be happy again, but could that really have translated into the clone? Intention was very important when it came to that type of magic. Hm, that would explain why the clone had managed to do things Voldemort didn’t want it to do. It had done it because it would make Hermione happy, which was a thing Voldemort wanted.
“Well, now he is gone,” Voldemort spat. “He served his purpose. Ginevra no longer believes that Marcus is Lord Voldemort.”
Hermione’s expression changed from annoyance to worry. “How did it go, then? Had she figured it all out?”
“There were things she didn’t think made sense, like that I would be engaged to you,” Voldemort answered honestly. “And she didn’t want to believe who I really was, but she knew. However, her unwillingness to believe the truth helped, so when she saw ‘Marcus’ at the wedding, she convinced herself that she had just been paranoid.”
“But?” Hermione asked, slowly sitting up in the bed.
“Harry realised who I was when I talked to him. He knows.”
Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“I didn’t kill him, for you sake,” Voldemort said softly.
Hermione regarded him closely. “But …?”
“But I did cast the Occulta Mors over him. If he tries to hurt me or tell anyone about me, Ginevra will die.”
Her hand came up to her mouth. She looked appalled.
“What would you have me do then, kitten?” he asked, placing his hand on her stomach. “I spared his life, but you know just as well as I do that we can’t trust him to keep my secret. He wants me dead or at least imprisoned. I did it for our family.”
Hermione swallowed. “Why Ginny?”
“Isn’t that obvious? The boy would be stupid enough to risk his own life by revealing me. But he would never risk the life of his wife. This is the best for everyone.”
“Except for Harry,” Hermione said softly and sank down. “He must be devastated.”
Voldemort sighed. “What would you have done in my position? With our history, there would have been no reasoning with him. I didn’t harm him or Ginevra. Nothing has to happen to them. They can live a long and happy life for all I care.”
Hermione shook her head. “Harry won’t. This will eat him up inside. Why couldn’t you just cast a memory charm?”
Voldemort shook his head. “You know a memory charm wouldn’t work on an Auror.”
Hermione looked down, not saying anything.
“You must realise that this is for the best,” Voldemort repeated. “I know you care for your friends, but you have to put your own family first. Think about Althea. And this one.”
He stroked her belly.
A motion in her belly, right under where his hand was, made him shrink back in surprise.
“What was that?” he asked. Was something wrong?
“The baby kicked,” Hermione said with a smile, moving her own hand down to her belly.
Voldemort moved his hand back down to her stomach. The baby kicked again.
“It seems to know who its father is,” he mused. This was good; it helped him win his argument about Potter. Voldemort rubbed her belly slowly. “We are a family, Hermione. Families look after each other. I do believe our vows will say ‘in sickness and in health’. Well, this is the sick part.”
Hermione was silent a whole minute before she carefully lifted his hand off her stomach. “A wife shouldn’t have to fear her husband, though.”
“And a husband shouldn’t have to fear his wife either,” Voldemort replied.
She looked up at him with a scowl. “You can’t make me believe you would ever fear me.”
“Fear may be a strong word,” he agreed. “But you have tried to kill me once, Hermione. I haven’t tried to kill you.”
Her scowl lessened. “You know why I did that.”
He nodded. “You were disappointed in me for being me.”
“You killed dozens of Muggles and came back to my bed to fuck me!” she exclaimed.
“Still, you tried to kill me. I know I’ve hurt and tortured you when I’ve been angry with you. It’s not that surprising, I was the Dark Lord. Yet, you are the one who tried to kill me.”
Hermione looked down. She seemed to still feel a little guilty for trying to kill him. Good, he could work on that. He was just about to keep pushing her, but her next statement caught him completely off guard.
“I think I need a break,” she said slowly.
His first instinct was to tell her no, but then he realised that he didn’t know what she really meant. She knew he would never let her go forever.
“A break?”
She nodded. “Some time away from you. This is all messing with my head. I need to just get away and be with myself for a short period.”
“Define a short period,” he said, keeping his tone neutral.
He could go a few days without her. As long as she came to the conclusion that she missed him. Well, he could certainly make sure of that. If she came back to him of her own free will, she would be less likely to leave again.
“I don’t know. Not too long, two days or so this first time. Then maybe, in the future, I could go take small retreats?”
Her tone was careful. She seemed aware that he was unwilling to grant her this. At the same time, he was pleased. She was asking him instead of telling him. That was a good sign.
“Very well. But I want to know where you’ll be going and how long you’ll be away,” he told her.
Hermione frowned. “Sure, I can tell you, but I don’t want you to show up there just because you are horny. I need some space.”
He considered it for a moment, then he nodded. “Fine. When and where do you plan to take this first break?”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know where, but I would really want to go now and stay a night away when Althea wakes up—”
“Althea stays here,” Voldemort interrupted her, his voice hardening. He had to have some guarantee that she would be back.
“Fine,” Hermione agreed after a moment of hesitation.
“Good. Then may I suggest a place for you to go?”
Hermione nodded. As he suspected, she hadn’t thought about this for too long and hadn’t come up with any details. She just wanted to get away from him for a little while. Well, he would just make sure she came running back.
“I know about a spa at the south coast. If you want to relax, I can’t think of a better place.”
She considered it. “That sounds lovely. But do you think they will have any rooms available at such short notice?”
“For me, they will,” he said, a smug smile on his face.
“You don’t plan to kill anyone, I hope?” Hermione asked wryly.
“Oh, no. All that is needed is money, which I happen to have a lot of. Just remember to do the ritual to keep the fairies out from where you sleep,” he reminded her, “and to wear the jewellery I gave you, so if someone tries to harm you, I will know.”
“I will,” she promised and made an attempt to unlit the lamp on her nightstand.
Voldemort stopped her by taking her hand. She looked him, puzzled.
“I really am sorry,” he said, his best sincere expression in place.
He wasn’t sure she believed him. But she sighed and squeezed his hand.
“You have a lot of making up to do.”
Voldemort realised that. He was sure he would manage just dandy.
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