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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
- 35
- 36
- 37
Hi! Thank you all for reading and reviewing and sorry for the long wait. Real life is becoming more and more hectic. Thank you for your patience.

I also want to thank Nerys and Shan84 for their wonderful work of betaing. You two are awesome! Snuggle, snuggle, snuggle!

Review can be found here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/20494-shared-flame-by-lady-miya/page__st__20

PART TWO

Chapter 35

Voldemort had become an obsession for Harry Potter. That he had to admit to himself. No matter how happy he was with his wife and their three children, Harry could never forget that his best friend was married to his nemesis.

What worried Harry the most was that she seemed very happy with the way things were. It had been three years now since the last time she had seemed concerned about her husband’s activities. Harry remembered it well. It had been the day Voldemort had been elected to sit in the Wizengamot. As the head of the Auror Department, Harry had a chair in the Wizengamot, and he had been one of the few who had voted on another candidate for the chair. Once Voldemort had been elected, Harry had gone straight to Hermione to see if she knew what he was doing.

“It’s his new hobby,” Hermione said with a scowl as she directed some boxes with her wand to their allocated positions. They had moved into a house just outside Oxford, and apparently, Hermione had been left doing all the unpacking.

“What sort of hobby?” Harry asked, moving aside to let a box fly past him and up a flight of stairs.

“He hasn’t told me yet, but I think he’s trying to change a few laws.” A frown of worry appeared on her face and she turned to Harry. “Look, I know it’s hard, but can’t you try to get along with him? People think you are friends. It will look suspicious if you try to stop everything he does.”

“And what if he tries to make some sort of law against Muggle-borns using magic again?” Harry asked.

Hermione snorted. “Do you really think I have lived with him for all these years without making him lose some of his hate against Muggles and especially Muggle-borns? No, you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t try anything too horrible.”

The glint in her eyes had made Harry, not for the first time, wonder how much Voldemort was rubbing off on Hermione. She was more confident now than Harry had ever seen, and it was obvious that she had some influence over her husband as well. Harry had been very surprised when she had managed to enrol both of her children into a Muggle school, for starters. Then there was the campaign to allow Muggle-borns and their parents to learn about the wizarding world before they got their Hogwarts letter, which had been a success.

Harry had collected every little thing he could about “Marcus Foster” ever since he found out who he really was seven-years-and-four-months ago. He had also tried to find a way to reveal Voldemort’s identity without risking Ginny, but he had been unsuccessful. However, the strange woman who called herself Morgana had appeared a few times over the years, telling him they were working on a way to free him from the curse.

He only hoped that they wouldn’t be too late.

xxx

“Mummy! Althea took the last apple, but you told me I could have it. Tell her to give it back to me!” Seven-year-old Alexandra came running into Hermione’s workroom, her brown eyes burning with fury. Her eyes were the only quality she had inherited from her mother; otherwise, she got Voldemort’s face and his dark hair.

“I’m hungry and there’s no food here.” Eleven-year-old Althea came into the workroom after her sister, a half-eaten apple in her hand. “When’s Dad coming home?”

Hermione massaged her temples. She had been dealing with a particularly annoying group of undergraduates the whole morning and her patience was already stretched thin. “Well, Althea may not have known that you were going to take the last apple, Alex. Why don’t you take a peach instead?”

“I wanted an apple,” Alexandra growled, her small hands turning into fists.

Hermione groaned. It was scary how much her youngest daughter could remind her of Voldemort sometimes. “Althea, don’t you like peaches more than apples? Perhaps you can give Alexandra the rest of the apple and get a peach instead? Dad will be home to make dinner soon.”

Althea answered by licking all over the rest of the apple. “She can have it, but now it’s filled with my spit.”

“Mum!” Alexandra complained.

“It’s only spit, love, it won’t kill you,” Hermione responded. “Either take the apple or get another piece of fruit.”

Alexandra eyed the apple like it was covered in green slime. Althea smirked in victory and was about to take another bite when Alexandra rushed forward and took the apple from her hand. She quickly took a big bite and rushed out from the room with her trophy.

“Mum!” Althea complained.

“You did say she could have it, darling,” Hermione said, hoping that Althea wouldn’t become angrier. Both her girls had a temper, but Alexandra’s was a tiny bit worse. However, Althea was the one who could sulk for days if she felt mistreated. Therefore, Hermione quickly added, “But I’m sure your father will be home soon, and after we have eaten dinner, we have a surprise for you.”

Althea immediately forgot her bad mood. “What is it?”

Hermione smiled secretively. It was the First of August, which meant that the Hogwarts letters had been sent to all eleven-year-olds across Britain. They had received the owl this morning and had decided to celebrate it properly with a nice dinner and cake that night.

“You’ll see,” Hermione said and winked before turning back to her papers. “Now shoo, I

have a few papers to grade, and I want them out of the way before Marcus comes home.”

After much discussion, they had decided not to let the children know what “Marcus’s” real name was. Therefore, Hermione always called Voldemort “Marcus” when they were with the children. It was safer for all of them. It had been hard for Hermione in the beginning, but she was used to it now, only saying “Voldemort” in their bedroom (which had a constant Silencing Charm over it).

Althea, looking much more excited, left the room. However, when Hermione just had two essays left to grade, Alexandra came in again and broke her concentration.

“Mum?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do we have to go to the Weasley’s on Sunday?”

Hermione looked up at her daughter. Alexandra’s expression was guarded, but Hermione could see that something was troubling her youngest child.

“Why wouldn’t you want to go?” Hermione asked, careful to make her voice neutral.

Alexandra was very difficult when it came to lecturing. Just like her father, she always thought she knew best and became angry if someone patronised her. Hermione had learned that the best way to deal with her was to reason with her. That way, Hermione was usually able to set her daughter straight.

Alexandra crossed her arms. “They are so stupid. And noisy.”

Hermione held back a sigh. “Well, it has been a while since we were there, and Mrs Weasley is very much looking forward to see us. It would be quite mean to disappoint her when we have promised to come.”

Alexandra’s shoulders slumped.

“Or is this because of James and Teddy?” Hermione asked carefully.

Alexandra pressed her lips together. Hermione didn’t know exactly what or if something had happened between Alexandra and the boys. Everyone had sort of left all the children alone together, figuring they could play. Especially Alexandra and James since they were the same age. It had all seemed fine up until a few months ago, when they had been at the Weasleys for Sunday brunch. As usual, the children had left the dinner table as soon as they could in favour of playing outside. However, something must have happened, because Alexandra and Althea had come back in again, looking angry. None of them had wanted to say what was wrong, but since then, the girls had been very reluctant to talk to James and Teddy again.

“Alexandra, if they did something bad to you or Althea, you can tell me. I’ll speak with Andromeda, Ginny and Harry about it.” Hermione had not wanted to interrogate her daughter before, hoping that Alexandra would come and tell her herself when she was ready. Or maybe even fix it by herself. When she had talked to Althea, she had told her it had just been a silly game gone wrong. But if it were still bothering Alexandra after all these months, Hermione wanted to know what it was.

“They were mean,” Alexandra finally said.

“In what way?” Hermione asked.

The young girl grimaced. “James said Althea was a slag and Teddy laughed. So I magicked them.”

Hermione dropped the pencil she was holding. “He called her a what?”

“Slag,” Alexandra repeated seriously. “It means a girl who has a lot of boyfriends.”

Hermione was well aware of what it meant. She wasn’t too glad that her children apparently knew what it meant, too.

“Why on earth would he call Althea that?” Hermione asked, appalled.

Alexandra shrugged. “He is stupid. They are both stupid.”

“If he called her that, then he is,” Hermione growled, shaking her head. “But Alex, it’s not very nice to use magic on someone just because they are stupid.”

Alexandra’s hands turned into fists again. “He deserved it!”

Since Hermione was quite sure that she would have reacted in a similar way, she let the subject drop. At least Alexandra stood up for her sister.

Right then, someone Apparated into the hallway. “Hello?”

Voldemort.

Hermione smiled. “In here!”

Alexandra’s expression was instantly brighter. “Dad!”

A few seconds later, he showed up in the doorway, a briefcase in his hand and his court robe open. They shared the workroom, and he had his desk standing at the other end of the room. Alexandra ran to hug him and he caught her with one arm. With a groan, he threw the briefcase onto his desk with the other.

“Hi to you, too, Alex,” Voldemort said as his daughter let go of him.

“Dad, when will we have dinner?” she asked,

“When I’ve made it, I guess,” he said, winking at her as he shrugged off the robe, revealing black, tailored trousers and a green T-shirt.

Hermione wouldn’t mind if he had removed the rest of his clothes as well. He was looking absolutely delicious. His dark hair was as stylish and thick as always; his face showed just the right amount of lines; and his firm body had a slight tan due to the visit they had made to the beach the other weekend.

Then again, if she didn’t want her daughter to learn any more bad words, it might be best if she didn’t ravage her husband in front of Alexandra.

“Salazar, it’s hot outside,” Voldemort groaned and threw himself into one of the blue armchairs that was standing in between their desks, against the wall.

“I’ve barely had time to notice,” Hermione replied dryly. “I have had so much to do all day.”

“With a cooling enchantment, no doubt. Some are lucky,” he muttered. “How about you, Alex? Been outside?”

“Yes, Mrs Philips took us to the park,” Alexandra answered, referring to their nanny for the past three years.

“Good. Where’s Althea, then?” he asked.

“I think she went upstairs,” Hermione said.

“Have you told her anything about …?” Voldemort trailed off, making a vague gesture.

Hermione knew that he meant the Hogwarts letter. “No, not yet. I thought we decided to do it at dinner.”

“Tell her what?” Alexandra asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Voldemort said in a low voice, winking to his daughter.

“What is it?” Alexandra asked in an equally low voice.

“You’ll find out at dinner.”

Alexandra pouted. “Tell me now!”

Voldemort chuckled. “Sorry, my treasure, it’s too much fun to see you pout.”

Alexandra stuck her tongue out at him and then marched out of the room.

Hermione frowned at Voldemort. “Was that really necessary? She will no doubt feel jealous when she finds out Althea is going to Hogwarts and she has to wait. Why make it worse?”

Voldemort stood up and walked over to her. “You worry too much, kitten. We’ll simply explain that she’ll have us all to herself then.” He pulled her up from her chair and gave her a long, hard kiss. The kiss was almost harsh, and he held her hair in an almost painful grip.

She recognised that sort of kiss. He was frustrated with her again. Hermione smirked. He must have found out about her project to free the house-elves.

Oops.

xxx

Voldemort was indeed angry with his wife. However, she had made him promise years ago that they wouldn’t start any arguments with the children around. They would take it in their own bedroom when the children were asleep and couldn’t hear any sounds they made.

Thus, after he had made his feelings known to her, he left to make dinner. About an hour later, the whole family was enjoying baked salmon with rice in their big, bright kitchen. Voldemort had decorated it, making sure he had the equipment he wanted. All of his carefully sharpened knives were attached to a big magnet on the wall behind the kitchen worktop. The drawers were filled by category so he could easily find everything. All of his girls had quickly learned to put everything back in their original spot.

He started calling them “his girls” a few years earlier, since, well, that was what they were. Even though Hermione was far from a girl anymore, she was still young compared to him. But having reached her thirties, she moved and acted with a whole new type of maturity. She was confident in her own body and magic. Thanks to him, obviously. Together, they had explored what she could do, physically as well as magically.

Probably more physically, though.

Voldemort sighed and looked down on his food. This was not the right time to think about shagging her. There were still a few hours before he could do that again.

“And then we went to the park and looked at the ducks in the lake, and we threw some of our sandwiches to them, but then two of the ducks started fighting over it, and they were quacking really loudly, so we left—”

Voldemort was almost impressed by Alexandra’s ability to talk without stopping to breathe. She could get so very excited over the most ridiculous things. When Alexandra finally stopped to put some food in her mouth, Hermione turned to their quieter daughter.

“What did you think of the ducks, Althea?”

Althea shrugged. “They were cute, I guess.”

Unlike her sister, Althea wasn’t very talkative.

“I don’t see why they stay on the ground when they could fly all day long,” Alexandra commented.

“Well, one could guess that they want to stay where the food is,” Voldemort commented with a wink.

“No, flying is funner than eating,” Alexandra said with conviction.

Voldemort chuckled. It was a good thing they had decided to give Alexandra a broomstick for her birthday next week. Voldemort had been getting quite sick of the constant hints to fly. Ever since Ginevra Potter had taken Alexandra with her on a flying trip, the girl had been longing for her own broom.

“Nuh-uh, cooking is way more fun than flying,” Althea retorted. Althea loved helping her father in the kitchen.

Alexandra rolled her eyes. “You are stupid.”

“You are stupid,” Althea remarked.

“Girls,” Hermione cut in. “Neither of you is stupid and it’s not nice to lie. Tell each other that you are sorry.”

“Sorry,” the girls muttered in unison.

“Good,” Hermione said. “Now it’s time for Althea’s surprise.”

Althea smiled. Unlike her sister, she was much more patient when it came to finding out things.

Hermione flicked her wand and a letter came flying to Althea. Althea caught the letter and stared at the big, green text. She turned it around and saw the Hogwarts insignia. “It’s from Hogwarts!”

She tore it open. “‘Dear Althea Granger-Foster. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’ I got in!”

“Of course you did,” Voldemort said with a smile. “You are a witch, after all.”

Althea looked at the other piece of parchment and saw a list of books. Her face fell a little. “Mum, these are all the books you have given me and I’ve read them all already.”

“Yes, I asked Headmistress McGonagall for the list earlier. I wanted you both to be prepared,” Hermione said, including Alexandra in the conversation.

Voldemort glanced at his youngest daughter. Alexandra looked like she was feeling a mix of envy and sadness. Voldemort could understand her. Of course she was feeling envious about not going to Hogwarts yet. Hopefully, she would be in a better mood once she got her broomstick. As for the sadness, Voldemort guessed Alexandra was going to miss her sister. For all of their fights, the two sisters did seem to love each other. At least that’s what Hermione had told him.

“But I want to learn new things,” Althea complained.

“You will learn a lot of new things,” Hermione promised. “If you feel like the classes aren’t challenging enough, you have a gigantic library to read your way through.”

The thought of that did seem to lighten Althea’s spirit quite a bit, and after dinner, she and Hermione disappeared upstairs to look at some other books. Alexandra stayed in the kitchen and watched Voldemort spell the dishes clean.

“When will I get to go to Hogwarts?” Alexandra asked after a few minutes of silence.

“When you turn eleven,” Voldemort said, moving the dishes to the cupboards with another flick of his wand.

“What is Hogwarts like?”

“It’s a big castle with lots of classrooms and corridors and hidden passages. Every student gets sorted into a House, and there, you’ll live for seven years,” Voldemort explained.

“What kind of hidden passages?”

“The hidden kind.”

“What do they hide?” Alexandra asked, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“What fun would it be if I told you now?” he teased her, wiping the table clean with another flick of his wand.

Alexandra sighed in frustration. “What House will I get sorted into?”

“Whatever House the Sorting Hat chooses to sort you into.”

“What hat?”

“A magical hat which looks into your mind.”

“Ew, I don’t want a hat to look into my mind,” Alexandra said, wrinkling her nose.

“It will be over in a second. It’s only so you’ll get into the same House as others that are like you,” Voldemort explained as he wiped the kitchen counter clean as well.

Alexandra curled her legs up beneath her. “Do you really have to live there?”

“Yes, but you’ll enjoy it. You’ll get to spend time with all of the other students and learn how to do magic.”

Alexandra didn’t look so certain. Voldemort sighed. He didn’t want to worry his daughter, but he had known children who had got terribly homesick at Hogwarts as well. As Head Boy, it had fallen on him to take care of them, something he had hated. However, not as much as he hated to see his daughters cry.

“It will be fine, Alexandra. And you have four years before you have to think about that. Come on, why don’t we go and see what your mother and sister are doing.” He offered her his hand.

Alexandra took it, and together, they walked up the stairs to the library.

Of course Hermione Granger and “Marcus Foster” had a library. It wasn’t as big as Voldemort would have liked and the room was crowded with overstuffed bookcases. But it was cosy with the wooden floor, the smell of books and the navy-blue seating area in the middle of the room.

Husband and wife usually spent their nights in there, and sometimes, like tonight, the girls would join them. Hermione and Althea practised spells together while Alexandra watched and Voldemort read the latest Transfiguration Review. Even though he wasn’t working with the school as much as he used to, he still liked to keep himself updated on the latest developments. This edition also contained a debate contribution by Hermione. She was not impressed by the so-called findings of a fellow Transfiguration Master in the U.S. Voldemort fully agreed with her.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Hermione said a bit after ten o’clock. “Go and brush your teeth.”

“No, I want to stay up and read more!” Althea complained.

Voldemort, however, was ready to have his talk with Hermione. “Do as your mother says,” Voldemort ordered them softly.

He had never used violence against his children. Never even threatened them. But when he ordered them, they did as they were told. No arguments.

As usual, Althea looked down. “Yes, Dad.” She left the room with her sister in tow.

Hermione stayed in her armchair, an eyebrow raised at him. “Should we take this to our bedroom?”

Voldemort’s eyes darkened. “Yes.”

He was not happy with his wife’s latest stunt and there would undoubtedly be some pretty loud voices.

And some pretty loud make-up sex.

“Let’s make sure the girls are in their beds first,” Hermione said and rose.

Voldemort followed her, feeling the anger from earlier that day returning. He couldn’t believe Hermione was actually fighting for house-elves. Two elderly council members had actually snickered at him for having a wife with such “controversial ideas”. Well, they were old and Merlin knew heart failure was a mortal thing of … “natural causes”.

“Night, Dad,” Althea said as she crawled under the covers of her bed.

“Goodnight,” Voldemort said and closed the door to her room.

Right then, Hermione closed Alexandra’s door. Without a word, they both went to their bedroom across the hall and closed the door carefully.

“House-elves?” Voldemort asked in disbelief. “You are risking our careers for fucking house-elves?!”

Hermione scowled at him. “Don’t be such a drama queen. Your career is not in trouble. I’ve just written an article about the fact that it is slavery, and I started a discussion group.”

“They are elves! Do you call using horses slavery as well?”

“Horses are not the same as elves and you know it. Elves are rational, reasoning creatures. Besides, there are laws against beating your horse, but an elf is seen as your property and you can pretty much kill them without anyone objecting. It’s disgusting and it is slavery!”

“It has been that way for generations. And the elves don’t want to get paid or have free weekends.”

“They don’t know any better,” Hermione hissed. “And it’s bad enough that it has been like this for so long without anyone saying anything. But I won’t stand by and just watch. And neither should you.”

“Oh, don’t pull me into this—”

“It’s good for you, too!” Hermione interrupted him. “If you stand behind me on this, you’ll be seen as a fighter for the weaker groups of society. You’ll be on the good side, which will help you pass those changes you want. I know you have your own agenda, too. This will work, Voldemort. The time is right for the House-Elf Liberation!”

Voldemort couldn’t deny her logic. If it worked. He wasn’t too sure about that. Besides, they were house-elves! He had never liked them. Disgusting creatures, always so eager to please.

Hermione put her hands on his chest and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. “I’ve calculated it. Britain is ready for this change. We’ll get a few to start with it, as a good example, showing how easy it is to do. I’ve already talked to a lot of house-elves. They are ready for a small change.”

She pushed open his shirt, but he kept it on, grasping her hands instead.

“You can’t go behind my back like this, kitten,” Voldemort said softly. “We talked about this.”

“I didn’t, per se,” Hermione mumbled. “I wanted to investigate it myself first, so I could build a solid case and convince you I was right. No reason to waste your time with a half-baked idea.”

“You are such a manipulative little kitten,” Voldemort growled. “I think it’s time for another lesson.”

Hermione huffed. “You are one to talk. I know you are doing things behind my back, even if I don’t know what they are.”

“Well, that’s different,” Voldemort stated and started to push her towards the bed. “That’s me.”

She shook her head but let him lead her to the bed. “You are impossible.”

Voldemort just smiled and pushed her down on the bed, still holding her hands. He kissed the top of her right hand and then her left before moving them over her head, tying them there. Hermione let him do it. She had felt the need in him earlier that day. He hated the loss of power when she went behind his back. She knew it. She also knew that he needed to regain the feeling of being in power again, and it was for the best to let him take it back as soon as possible.

It was all about control, she had come to realise during her years with him. He wanted power because it gave him control. To get it, he did whatever he thought was needed to be done. Hermione knew she couldn’t change him, but she was capable of nudging him to the least harmful solution. Like now. If he were in bed with her, then he couldn’t be out killing innocent people.

Of course, Hermione wasn’t a complete altruist. She had become quite addicted to having sex with him, just as he was addicted to her. She didn’t mind having him control her body, making her experience pleasure that made her ears sing. Quite the opposite.

“When both of the girls are at Hogwarts, I think I want you naked all the time,” he said as he banished her clothes with a quick spell.

“I don’t like to be cold,” she remarked.

He sat down on the bed and placed a warm hand on her stomach. “Oh, I think I can find ways to keep your warm. Like in Norway.”

Hermione shuddered in pleasure at the memory. They had spent their anniversary there the year before, in the same fashion as their honeymoon. Naked and fucking all the time.

Voldemort watched her trip down memory lane with amusement as he let his wand dance between his fingers. “But that’s only for good wives. And you have not been a good wife, kitten.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics but didn’t comment.

He held his wand in a tight grip and lay down on the bed next to her. He trailed the wand over her stomach and up between her breasts, moving all the way to her throat. Anticipation rose in her chest, her eyes not leaving his.

She could feel when he entered her mind, finding out what she had done and what her plans with the house-elves were. She didn’t mind giving him the information he wanted.

So much work for such silly little creatures, his voice sounded in her mind. They had perfected the mind-to-mind talk over the years.

Are you going to watch house-elves all day, or are you going to fuck me? she responded.

Voldemort left her mind and leaned closer, kissing her thoroughly for several minutes. She was so much into the kiss that she didn’t feel him moving his wand before her whole body began trembling due to a spell.

She recognised it. Voldemort had developed it specifically for her. Since it was his magic doing it, Hermione felt like her entire body was being touched by him, inside and outside. It was enough to have her groaning in pleasure and leave her longing. Because it wasn’t enough. They were just small strokes, not fucking. Therefore, it was agony for her to be bound, unable to grasp him and have her wicked way with him.

It was especially aggravating when he broke the kiss and simply looked at her squirming to get close to him. He smiled fondly. Then, he got off the bed.

Hermione was about to object but stopped when he began to undress. Yes, that was a good dark wizard.

He slowly pushed his still open shirt off, trailing his fingertips against the soft hair on his chest. Hermione licked her lips as he let the shirt fall on the floor. He had such beautiful shoulders, strong and firm muscles, and he was a bit tanned thanks to spending several days in the sun.

His wand was still in his hand, and before he set to work on undoing his trousers, he sent another dose of the spell to Hermione. She moaned as it caressed every fiber of her being, wetness already leaking between her legs.

Voldemort smiled and stepped out of his trousers and socks. It seemed like he had neglected putting on underwear today. Hermione stared transfixed at his semi-erect cock.

“Now, kitten,” Voldemort purred and came up to the end of the bed. He leaned down and placed his hands on her knees, slowly stroking her legs down to her ankles. “I want you to stay perfectly still…”

Her legs were suddenly tied together. Hermione frowned. That wasn’t good. He couldn’t fuck her if she were on her back with her legs tied together.

“… while I go and take a shower,” Voldemort finished with a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Hermione growled at him. He winked at her before quickly disappearing into the bathroom.

She was horny, dammit!

“Come back here!” she shouted, but all she heard was the shower turning on.

She pressed her lips together. Her whole body was tingling with pleasure because of the spell, and it was particularly bad in her sex. She tried to rub her thighs together to ease some of the tension, but it only made things worse. She hit her head against the pillow, groaning. This was slow torture. It was like an itch she couldn’t scratch and just couldn’t stop thinking about. She tried to wrestle out of her magical bindings, but they had her sealed to the bed. She could only flex her arms and knees a little.

When he came back ten minutes later, her sex was throbbing with need. She sent him a murderous glare.

“Don’t look like that, kitten,” he purred and unwrapped the towel from his waist. “That was the lesson part. Now comes the let’s-fuck-our-brains-out-while-you-promise-never-to-hide-anything-from-me-again part.”

With a swish of his wand, she was on her stomach; her arms were still tied together, but her legs were free. She shuddered in need. He came up behind her, his hands stroking her back before reaching her hips. With a steady grip, he made her rise to her knees but kept her head down against the pillow. She spread her legs on either side of him before he had a chance to say anything.

Voldemort chuckled, his hands stroking the backs of her thighs all the way down to her knees before he travelled up again. His thumbs started to draw circles on her arse cheeks, slowly coming closer to her sex.

“Fuck, Voldemort,” Hermione groaned, thinking that it was taking too long. “Oi!”

He’d given her a smack on her arse. Not very hard, just enough for her to flinch. She just knew that he was smirking behind her. However, she soon forgot about that when she felt him shift. She was happily surprised when he entered her. It seemed teasing was over.

Voldemort stayed deep inside her for a moment and let out a long moan of pleasure. Hermione concurred.

He was taking this so much better than the last time he had found out about her going behind his back. That had been followed by a sex strike of three days.

He started to thrust in and out of her in short, quick strokes. One of his hands travelled underneath her and he pinched her clitoris lightly. She inhaled sharply due to the spikes of pleasure it sent through her entire body. Her body was so used to this that she climaxed there and then.

Voldemort kept a steady grip of her hips and stayed still until her orgasm had lessened. Then he started to move again. Hermione moved back against him. Merlin, if only she could stay like this forever.

Forever lasted for another half hour until Voldemort came inside her, giving her a third orgasm. When he let go of her hips, her knees finally gave in and she fell down on her stomach in a shuddering mess.

Voldemort slid out of her but embraced her waist and pulled her on her side, spooning her. Hermione could feel him place a kiss on her shoulder and she smiled. She had almost drifted to sleep when his wand came up and released her hands from the binding spell.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, shifting her arms to a more comfortable position.

“Are you happy, Hermione?”

His question took her by surprise.

“Are you beginning to doubt you sexual stamina?” she teased.

He turned her around in his arms, and his hand came up to her cheek. His eyes were clear and serious.

“No. Are you happy? With this life, I mean?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I suppose. I’m not unhappy. Why are you asking?”

“You don’t regret staying with me?”

She snorted. “You didn’t give me a choice, remember?”

His thumb traced her cheekbone. “You could have tried to run. You never did.”

“You would have found me,” she remarked.

“Yes. But still. You hated me.”

Hermione sighed. “Where on earth is this coming from? Do you wish I had run?”

His grip of her head tightened. “No.”

“Then what?”

He relaxed his grip a little, and his eyes fell down to her lips. “You will stay with me. No matter what.”

It was a statement, but at the same time, Hermione heard a trace of uncertainty in his voice. If she hadn’t been with him for eight years, she wouldn’t have noticed it. But it was there. He wanted reassurance.

Her hand came up to his head, and she stroked his soft hair. “After everything we have done and shared, how could I leave you?”

He relaxed just a little.

“What are you planning?” Hermione suddenly asked. Just because she wouldn’t leave him didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to stop him from doing something stupid.

He looked into her eyes again, his best innocent look in place.

She huffed. “Oh, no. Tell me what you are planning.”

“One of my former students, Rebecca Shacklebolt, is up for the position as the new Minister of Magic. I’ll make sure she gets the position. And I’ll become her adviser.”

Hermione frowned. She knew he had developed plans for the Ministry for years. Since she had met Rebecca more times than any of his other students, she had guessed it had something to do with her.

Oh, fine, the first time Hermione had seen her, she had become immensely jealous, but that was in the past. When Voldemort had reassured her there was nothing to be jealous of, Hermione had realised there was something else going on.

From Voldemort’s side, that was. Rebecca was clearly in awe of him, and he had her wrapped around his finger. Hermione realised that this would basically mean that Voldemort would control the Ministry.

“What do you plan to do with that power?” she asked.

“Nothing too extreme,” he said vaguely.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound promising.

“But I will start to spend more time at the Ministry with Rebecca,” he added, clearly wanting to redirect her line of thoughts. “I don’t want the Daily Prophet to start printing rumours about us. Therefore it’s important that you are happy. Noticeable happy.”

Hermione felt a sting in her heart and moved out of his arm. Of course he didn’t care about her well-being. He just wanted her to look happy for outsiders.

“You know, suddenly I’m not happy at all.”

She rolled out of the bed and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. How could one man make her feel so wonderful and then, ten minutes later, make her want to rip out his heart? It was always scheming with him. Always manipulation and appearances. She knew he didn’t love her, but did he have to rub it in like that? And why was she letting him get to her? She knew this was his way of making her focus on something else other than what sort of plan he had for the Ministry. He was playing with her emotions. The worst part was that she was used to it. She had learned to expect it. So, why did it still have to hurt not to be loved?

The handle of the door moved. “Hermione.” He knocked on the door. “Hermione, open up.”

“I’m peeing!” she yelled back.

“No, you aren’t; I would have heard it, then.”

She grimaced at her own reflection in the mirror. “Leave me alone!”

Voldemort, or course, saw that as a challenge. With a spell, he opened the door and stepped inside. “What’s the matter?”

She placed her hands on her hips, staring at him. “You know what it is. You are the most selfish, inconsiderate, tactless man I have ever met!”

He crossed his arms. “You are overreacting, Hermione.”

Her hands turned into fists. “Did I forget to mention stupid?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, something that made Hermione want to hit him. He must have seen it in her body language, because he quickly stepped up to her and took her hands in his.

“What is it that I’ve done wrong now?” he asked, his voice tired.

“You don’t care one bit about me. It’s always scheming and plotting,” she spat.

“Calm down. You are overreacting,” he said briskly. “Of course I care about you, you infuriating woman. Stop talking nonsense.”

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Nothing would get better because she got upset over the fact that he didn’t love her. Again. She knew that he didn’t. She had known it when she promised to spend the rest of her life with him.

It was just hard when he reminded her that he didn’t love her. Liked her, sure. Like a special pet. But not love. Never love.

She took another deep breath, pressing down the feeling of helplessness. It was useless to be upset about it. “You are ten times as infuriating.”

Voldemort’s eyes softened. He reached out and stroked her cheek. He did try to make her comfortable. That was something. It could be much worse. Like a husband who always declared his love but cheated on her. Voldemort was hers, at least.

He pulled her into an embrace. She could feel him embrace her mentally as well. She shifted her thoughts away. There was no use for them to get into another fight where he looked down on love and she had to defend it. They had done it often enough in the past.

Show me.

His order echoed in her mind.

Hermione sighed and gave in. She felt him probing. They had done this so often; it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. In a strange way, it felt a little bit like cuddling. His presence inside her was a bit like sex: the slow, soft kind, not the type they had just engaged in.

When he had seen her reasoning, he withdrew with a sigh and put her one arm’s length away from him. “How many times do we have to talk about—”

“I know,” she interrupted, making a grimace. “Love is a stupid, useless feeling that doesn’t change our relationship.”

Voldemort let go of her shoulders. “So, why do you get so upset about it?”

Hermione just glared at him. She had already made so many attempts to explain this to him in the past. He just didn’t get it. He thought she should be sated that he expressed feelings of pleasure and joy with her.

Voldemort grimaced as well. “We have both given up a lot of things to be together. You don’t see me running into the bathroom, sulking.”

“No, you run down to the basement,” she agreed with a snort.

“I don’t sulk.”

“Whatever you want to call it is just fine.”

Sure, he didn’t sulk the same way she did. He liked destroying things when he was upset. That was why she had soundproofed the basement a long time ago.

“Can’t we just have sex again?” he asked with a sigh.

Without waiting for her answer, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the bedroom. She didn’t resist. This was what always happened. Sex didn’t solve their problems, but it was the only way they knew how to ignore them.

xxx

It was the last week of August, and Harry Potter woke up with the uncomfortable feeling of being watched by someone. At first, he thought it was just one of his many bad dreams playing tricks on him. Then, he saw that a light was on outside the bedroom door. Taking his wand, he got up, shaking the sleepiness from his body. If nothing else, the Auror training had taught him how to quickly become alert, even if there were no danger to speak off.

In fact, Harry was quite sure it was one of the children using the loo. However, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that told him to check it out.

In the hallway, he saw that the light originated from the living room. Frowning, he made his way down the hall. Perhaps someone forgot to turn off the light?

“Hello again, Harry Potter.”

Harry lowered his wand. “What do you want?”

Morgana looked exactly like she had every other time he had seen her. The pale skin was almost transparent, while her black hair seemed to float around her head.

“We have managed to find a way to break through the curse around yourself and your wife. Will you keep your end of the bargain?”

Harry felt his belly tighten. Even though he had worked hard in the past seven years to find a way to reveal Voldemort without endangering Ginny, he suddenly hesitated. He knew he couldn’t kill Voldemort without risking Hermione’s life. Harry wasn’t sure what Voldemort had done to her, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Voldemort had turned Hermione into a Horcrux or something like that. Those ambiguous vows Voldemort had spoken still echoed in Harry’s ears as clear as if he’d heard them a mere second ago.

However, he did want to stop Voldemort and make sure he couldn’t harm anyone else. The problem was that if Voldemort were taken into custody, Hermione would follow. She had been harbouring a fugitive for seven years. Not to mention that Harry had, to his great horror, realised that Hermione was actually on Voldemort’s side. There was no telling if she had done something to actively support him and he had no idea what she would do if they were to try to arrest Voldemort. Harry knew Hermione wasn’t one to stand by and watch; but even if she did nothing, it was protocol for the Aurors to take anyone who could be working for Voldemort into custody as a precaution. They didn’t want to let a possible Death Eater escape.

Not that Harry thought that she was a Death Eater. No, it was worse than that. Hermione was in every sense of the word Voldemort’s wife. She would be with him through sickness and health. Harry was worried it would mean prison as well. Could he do that to a friend?

But he couldn’t let Voldemort go free. It was his duty as an Auror to prevent crimes and assist in any on-going investigations. Voldemort had so many crimes to answer to that it would probably take years before he could be put on trial. Regardless, the people Voldemort had hurt deserved justice. Harry would just have to do his best to help his friend after their arrest and convince Hermione to leave her husband. That would convince the rest of the world she’d been forced into this situation, like Harry had been. After all, they knew she was a Muggle-born and his best friend, so it wouldn’t be too hard to get people to think she’d been Voldemort’s victim all along.

“Yes, I can assemble a team and take him in tonight,” Harry said.

Morgana, however, shook her head. “Not tonight. It will take us a few more days to undo Tom Riddle’s curse. On the First of September, you will arrest him and Hermione Granger.”

Harry nodded in agreement. It was time.
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