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
- 37
- 38
- 39
Hello everyone. Sorry for the long wait, and I’m sorry for the wait that is to come. On Monday, I’m getting my last assignment on the semester handed out, so I’ll be very busy writing on it for the coming weeks. But my summer holiday begins the second week of June, so I hope I’ll have lots of time to write then!

As always, I want to express my deepest thanks to Shan84 and Nerys for the hard work they do on betaing this story. It wouldn’t even be half as good without their comments and suggestions.

I’d also like to thank everyone else for reading and, especially, reviewing. They often make my day! Replies can be found here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/20494-shared-flame-by-lady-miya/ However, I’m usually quite slow on answering… sorry!

Enjoy!

Chapter 37

When Hermione regained consciousness, she was lying on a bunk in a grey cell. She looked around, confused. How did she get here?

Then the memories of what had transpired at King’s Cross came back to her. She flew off the bunk and threw herself at the door.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Give me back my children! I have to make sure Althea is safe!”

She had been banging on the door for a few minutes when it was finally opened by Harry. His expression was pained.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Where are my children?” she demanded.

Harry wouldn’t meet her eyes. It reminded her of when they had been at Hogwarts, and he’d had to confess to her that he had made a mistake or done something she’d disagreed with.

“I called Ginny to look after Alexandra. I thought a familiar face might calm her. They are still at the Ministry …” Harry trailed off.

“And where is Althea?” Hermione asked; her jaw clenched.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair, like he always did when he was nervous. “We don’t know.”

Hermione stopped breathing. The fairies had taken her. The fairies had taken her daughter. Her daughter was with the fairies and there was no telling what they would do.

She sank to the floor, still struggling to breathe. Harry rushed forward, capturing her before she hit the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione, I had no idea—”

That made her snap out of it. With all the force she could muster, she threw her fist into Harry’s face, causing him to stagger away from her. His glasses flew off, landing on the floor, breaking with a satisfying crunch.

Another Auror Hermione hadn’t even noticed before hurried into the cell and forced her down onto the ground. She ignored the pain of landing on the ground, or how much her fist throbbed. All she could think about was hurting Harry for helping the fairies kidnap Althea.

Harry fumbled around for his glasses and then repaired them with a quick spell. A spell she had taught him. How could Harry do this to her after everything she had done for him? How could he betray her like this? If he had just listened to her and gone to get Althea when she’d told him, the fairies wouldn’t have had time to kidnap her!

“Should I restrain her, sir?” the other Auror asked Harry.

“No, it’s okay. You can wait outside.”

“But sir, hitting an Auror is—”

“I know,” Harry interrupted quickly. “Now let her go and wait outside. That’s an order.”

The Auror reluctantly left, closing the cell door behind him. Hermione rose again, staring at Harry with hatred.

“You have to believe me, Hermione. I had no idea Althea was at risk,” Harry said, his voice weak.

“You fucking stupid arse,” Hermione growled. She wanted to hit him again but managed to keep her temper in check. “You haven’t changed one bit. This is just like our fifth year when Sirius died because you rushed in without thinking.”

Harry winced, but then, he finally managed to look her straight in the eyes. “Voldemort had to be taken in, Hermione. You know that. When I saw an opportunity to get rid of the curse, I took it. I had to save everyone from him. I had to save you!”

“And did it ever occur to you that perhaps I didn’t need or want saving?” she spat.

“You are married to Voldemort!” Harry exclaimed. “You can’t tell me you are happy about that.”

Hermione was just about to tell him exactly what she thought about it when she began coughing. The spell preventing her from revealing Voldemort had kicked in. That was when she realised where she was. It wasn’t just her daughter who was in trouble; her husband was, too. She couldn’t admit to knowing that he was Voldemort. Instead, she improvised.

“Married to Voldemort?” she asked, acting shocked. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about, Harry?”

Harry stared at her in disbelief. “Hermione, this is your way out, away from him.”

“I have nothing to get away from,” Hermione answered, turning serious. “Why do you think that I’m married to Voldemort?”

“Marcus is Voldemort!” Harry growled. “You know it, Hermione. We’ve talked about it. You’ve come to me crying several times when you were fed up with him.”

Hermione just shook her head. “Harry, how on earth could Marcus be Voldemort? Listen to yourself. Someone is playing with your mind. And it got my daughter kidnapped! You have to let us go.”

Harry looked angry and desperate. “Has he cast some spell over you, too, so you can’t tell us the truth? We can break it, don’t worry, we have a device that cleanses all active magical spells upon a person. We’ll get that for you.”

Hermione wasn’t too worried about that. Even if they did somehow manage to break Voldemort’s curse, she had learned enough Occlumency to keep lying. What she was worried about was her daughter.

“Dammit Harry! Stop obsessing over my husband. Do you realise that your delusions about him is why my daughter is missing? You already have him locked up, and I’m sure someone will soon see what a big fuck up you have made, but what about Althea?” she asked again. “You have to send someone to look for her!”

“We have,” Harry replied, “but nothing has come up.”

“Where have you looked? Was there any sign of a struggle on the train?” Hermione asked. “I know the Ministry has special ways of finding underage witches and wizards.”

“We are looking into all possibilities. But the Ministry can’t find her until she tries to use magic, and so far, she hasn’t. However, we couldn’t find her wand on the train, so if she tries to use magic, we’ll go to the location at once; trust me,” Harry said.

However, she realised she couldn’t trust him.

If the fairies were in contact with Harry, then they could have brainwashed him the same way they had done to Ron. She didn’t think it would be that hard for the fairies to convince Harry that Althea was better off without them, away from Voldemort. She and Voldemort had to get out of here and look for Althea themselves.

Someone knocked on the door to the cell. Harry scowled and went to the door, throwing it open. Before he had time to say anything, a small flash of long, dark hair rushed into the cell, heading straight towards Hermione.

“Mummy!” Alexandra cried, throwing herself at her mother.

Hermione caught her, hugging Alexandra tightly against her chest, relieved that at least one of her children was safe.

“Why did you bring her here?” Harry asked the guard, confused.

“She was crying and had a magical tantrum,” the guard answered, sounding tired. “It didn’t stop until your wife promised that she could see her mother.”

Hermione held back a snort. Just like with other magical children, Alexandra did unintentional magic whenever she felt something very strongly. The difference was that she managed to create a lot more problems than other children. At their home, Voldemort and Hermione had found ways to prevent the destruction she could cause. She wasn’t surprised that the Aurors didn’t know how to handle it.

“Have you managed to contact anyone who can take care of her?” Harry asked. He’d lowered his voice, but Hermione could still hear him.

Hermione tensed and started to stroke the sobbing girl’s back. If she couldn’t trust Harry to look for Althea, then she could hardly trust him to protect Alexandra. The fairies had tried to kill her when she was still a foetus! Who knew what they could make Harry do to her?

“I don’t know yet. But he contacted someone,” the Auror said.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Voldemort had men on the inside; surely one of them could get them out fast?

“What?” Harry asked, angry. “I thought I gave orders that no one was allowed to see him.”

“Well, it’s not so easy when the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot comes in person with a contra-order,” the Auror mumbled.

Harry cursed and dragged the Auror out, shutting and locking the door behind them. The moment they were gone, Alexandra finally loosened her tight grip on Hermione’s neck and leaned back.

“Mum, what’s going on? Why are you and Dad here? Where is Althea?”

Hermione wiped her daughter’s wet cheeks with the hem of her shirt. “There has been some sort of mistake. They think that your dad and I have done something bad, but we haven’t. We just have to stay here a little longer to clear it all up. And Althea … well, don’t worry about Althea,

Dad and I will take care of it when we get out, okay?”

Trust shone through Alexandra’s eyes as she leaned in to hug her mother again. Hermione kissed the top of her head. It was good that Alexandra trusted and believed her, even when Hermione didn’t believe herself. She would do her best, but for the first time since she had her children, the thought of losing one of them made her scared to death.

xxx

“Elliot, this is ridiculous. How on earth could I be You-Know-Who?” Voldemort asked, running a hand through his hair while looking at the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Elliot Handel. The Warlock had ordered the Aurors to let him talk to Voldemort alone, which Voldemort was more than happy about.

“Mr Potter ordered your arrest this morning. I don’t know what evidence he has, but he wouldn’t have been able to go through with it if he didn’t have something to support his claims,” Handel said, though Voldemort could see that he doubted Potter’s claim.

“Harry must have been hoodwinked somehow,” Voldemort said. “For Merlin’s sake, I’m married to his best friend who helped him bring down You-Know-Who. Why would she have married me if I were him?”

“From what I’ve heard, you are supposed to have held her against her will,” Handel said, fidgeting with the sleeve of his long, purple robe. It was a sign that he was uncomfortable.

“That’s outrageous! I would never hurt my wife. I love her more than anything!” Voldemort lied, ensuring he looked very offended. “Does she look like she is being held captive by a homicidal lunatic? She is such a powerful and resourceful witch; there is no way anyone can hold her against her will. Don’t you remember what happened when Malfoy tried?”

Handel lowered his head. “No, that doesn’t seem very likely. I have no idea what has got into Mr Potter; he was so certain …”

Voldemort massaged his temples. He knew it was the fairies’ fault, but he couldn’t tell them that. If they found out the fairies were involved, then there was a small risk they would figure out that he was indeed Voldemort and had got this body with fairy magic. Therefore, he had to place the blame somewhere else.

“What if You-Know-Who is trying to get to Hermione by framing me?” he asked out loud, making sure his tone sounded worried. “I mean, after everything she did to stop him, he would want revenge. What if he has cast some sort of spell on Harry to make him think I’m You-Know-Who?”

Handel brought a hand to his mouth, looking horrified.

“But I’m surprised the Aurors don’t have better protection against things like this,” Voldemort added darkly. “They should have a system in place to alert them in case an Auror has been compromised.”

“We will have to look into that,” Handel said, his voice uncertain.

“And why did they have to use so much force when they arrested me? For Merlin’s sake, my daughter was there! How is Alexandra taking this? Is anyone taking care of her? She must be scared!” Voldemort continued ranting, making his best impression of a concerned father.

“Last I heard, Mrs Potter was taking care of your daughter,” Handel answered. “And as I understand it, they didn’t want to risk letting you get away. They do still believe you are He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Just because of something Potter said!” Voldemort cried. “This whole mess shouldn’t have been allowed to happen.”

“As I said, we will look into it once we have got you and your wife out,” Handel said weakly.

Voldemort suppressed a smirk. Handel had been the one to promote Potter as Head of the Aurors. This would reflect badly on Handel if the man weren’t careful. Just like any high-ranking Ministry Official, he was always worried about his image.

“Well, I’ll make sure everyone finds out about this when I get out, so it can’t happen again,” Voldemort growled.

A flash of alarm went through Handel’s eyes. “Don’t you think we can keep this, er, internal, Marcus? If Mr Potter has been compromised, it will make people panic. Surely we wouldn’t want that.”

“All I want is to be with my wife and children!” Voldemort cried. “Instead, I’m sitting here for something I know I didn’t do. These things aren’t supposed to happen to honest citizens!”

Handel cleared his throat, looking worried. “Yes, I agree that it’s very unfortunate, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to stay here for too long. I’m certain that once the first interrogations have been conducted, you and your wife can stay in a cell together, under observation of course.”

“As much as I appreciate that, surely they can’t keep us overnight?” Voldemort said, pleased that his manipulations on the Warlock had worked.

“This case is already a nightmare. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay for at least one night,” Handel said and squeezed Voldemort’s shoulder. “But I’ll see what I can do, Marcus.”

Voldemort just nodded, burrowing his face in his hands as Handel left. At least that was one problem out of the way. Handel didn’t believe he was Voldemort, and being the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, he would be able to convince more people that it was Potter who had made a mistake. Not that it would have been too hard to do that anyway. After all, where was the proof? He was inside an interrogation room where every magical enchantment or disguise was stripped away, so they knew these were his real looks. They had checked his wand as well, but he wasn’t so foolish that he used his old wand when he was acting like Marcus.

Voldemort wasn’t surprised when Potter entered the interrogation room fifteen minutes later. What surprised him was the bruise beginning to form around his left eye. He was quite certain that was thanks to Hermione, and that thought made him all warm and fluffy on the inside. He had trained his kitten well.

“What did you do to trick Warlock Handel into believing you aren’t Lord Voldemort?” Potter asked, cutting to the chase, as always. The boy had no finesse whatsoever.

Voldemort made himself flinch at the name. “Harry, I don’t understand what’s going on here. Why do you think I’m You-Know-Who?”

“Don’t play games with me,” Potter growled. “I broke free from your curse. I’ve told everyone who you really are. You aren’t getting away this time.”

Voldemort just stared at him in disbelief. “This isn’t you, Harry. What happened? We have been friends for years now. You know me. How could I be You-Know-Who?”

Potter threw his fist on the table and rose. “You aren’t fooling anyone, Voldemort. Just drop the act.”

It was fun to watch the boy become so frustrated. Voldemort just had to continue to play clueless, and then, an attorney would get him out of here. Once Ken Mizuro arrived, Voldemort would tell him to contact his attorney.

“Harry—” Voldemort began, but he was interrupted by the door opening.

Potter turned around, looking annoyed. “What?”

“Warlock Handel is back, sir,” a young redhead said, sounding uncertain.

Potter scowled but left nevertheless. A few minutes later, he returned, followed by none other than Ken Mizuro.

“You have five minutes,” Potter said, not looking happy but leaving them alone anyway.

Mizuro arched an eyebrow at Voldemort. “They think you are You-Know-Who?”

Voldemort nodded. If they had been alone, they would have both started laughing. However, he didn’t doubt the Aurors were right outside the enchanted wall, listening in on their conversation, and thus, his act had to remain intact.

“Are all British Aurors incompetent?” Mizuro asked.

“I would hope not,” Voldemort muttered. “But now, with things the way they are, I could use your help.”

Mizuro nodded.

They both knew it was not a request. Even though Mizuro was a very powerful and ambitious wizard, he acknowledged Voldemort’s authority. He was even one of the few who knew about his true identity. Voldemort knew his darkest secrets, so he was comfortable telling Mizuro a few of his own. It was a great way to establish power over a person. That, and magical bounds which made sure the other person couldn’t tell anyone the secrets you told them.

“I think we’ll need an attorney,” Voldemort said with a sigh. “I have no idea what is going on here, but if it’s some sort of conspiracy, I want legal aid so it doesn’t get worse. Also, I need you to make sure my daughters are safe. Take care of Alexandra until Hermione or I get out, and contact Althea at Hogwarts. I don’t want her to find out about this by reading it in the Daily Prophet tomorrow. If she has already found out about our arrest, make sure she doesn’t worry.”

Since no one had told him Althea was missing yet, he couldn’t act worried. But he wanted Mizuro to figure out Althea was missing as soon as possible. When he did, Mizuro would know to look for her. Voldemort didn’t have to tell the other man about the fairies. If Althea could be found by normal means, Mizuro would find her. If he couldn’t, then Voldemort needed to get out of here to look for Althea himself. However, he wanted to keep his cover for as long as he could. He was comfortable as Marcus Foster and did not want to lose the power base that he had established. Although he didn’t want to lose his daughter to the fairies either, he didn’t think the fairies could do that much damage in just a couple of days.

Potter entered the room again, not looking angry anymore.

Voldemort rose. “Is Alexandra still in the building?”

Potter just nodded.

“If Hermione approves, then Ken has agreed to take care of her,” Voldemort said, certain that Hermione would approve but wanting to appear as if his wife’s opinion mattered a lot to him.

“Fine,” Potter said, sounding pleased over something. “Two of my colleagues are going to interrogate you now. I suggest you start confessing.”

“I have nothing to confess,” Voldemort said, throwing his hands up in annoyance.

“We’ll see,” Potter said, almost looking smug.

Oh, great, they were going to use Veritaserum on him now. Voldemort mentally rolled his eyes. Like that would have any effect. However, Voldemort could use the entertainment of putting on a show until he could see Hermione again. If Warlock Handel knew what was good for him, he would make sure Voldemort and Hermione shared a cell once night time fell.

Two Aurors Voldemort had got to know as Sabin and Rochester entered the room. Sabin was carrying a small glass vial filled with a transparent liquid in one hand. She placed it on the table in front of him before transfiguring a chair from thin air to sit down on. Rochester took the chair already standing at the opposite side of Voldemort. He cleared his throat before he tested the Dicta-Quill hovering over a sheet of paper.

“Urban Rochester and Caroline Sabin, questioning Marcus Gustav Foster on the First of September, 2010 at 3 pm.” After making sure the Dicta-Quill worked properly, he turned his attention to Voldemort.

“Are you aware of the accusations that have been made against you?” he asked.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “Aware? Yes. However, I’m still waiting for someone to jump out and admit to this being some sort of joke.”

“Noted. Do you know what Veritaserum is?”

Voldemort watched him in disbelief. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Answer the question.”

Voldemort rolled his eyes. An innocent man wouldn’t have stood for this nonsense, and neither would he. “Yes, I know what Veritaserum is. I’m a member of the Wizengamot. I was in the group that designed the latest law on when Aurors, such as yourself, are allowed to use it.”

“Then you are aware that Aurors are allowed to use Veritaserum in matters of national security.”

“Indeed. However, I want to remind you that you are not allowed to stray from the topic and ask questions of a personal matter,” Voldemort growled and took the vial. “When I’m cleared of these false accusations, Warlock Handel will, no doubt, start another investigation. It will be on your head if you don’t follow protocol.”

“We are well aware of our liberties, Professor Foster. You don’t have to worry,” Sabin replied, her tone friendlier. She wasn’t as good as her colleague at hiding her emotions, and he could see that she already doubted that they had the right man. Excellent.

He nodded and then drank the liquid in one go. At once, he could feel the effects of the Veritaserum take over, but it only took him a moment to overcome them. It was easy to fight of the compulsion to answer the truth when you were a master of Occlumency. However, the tricky part would be for him to convince them he wasn’t fighting the potion. He had to feign confusion, while still appearing uncomfortably honest when responding to their questions. Veritaserum often made the victims ramble on like a talkative drunk.

“Would you please state your full name for the record,” Sabin asked.

“Marcus Gustav Foster,” Voldemort said, spluttering just a little bit.

Sabin and Rochester exchanged a look. This was when they would decide if he were lying through the Veritaserum or really telling the truth.

“What are your views on the wizard known as Voldemort?” Rochester asked, looking as if he wanted to catch him off guard.

Voldemort didn’t even blink. He knew that someone truly under the effects of Veritaserum would simply answer the question, not reflect over it. “He scares me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always been afraid he’ll hurt the ones I love the most. Dad was a Muggle and Hermione is Muggle-born ...” Voldemort hesitated as if he were struggling with the truth.

As he had anticipated, Rochester pressed on. “And what else?”

“I don’t want him to find out about me,” he admitted, putting up an act of appearing really worried.

“Why would that be bad?”

“I’m a Parselmouth as well,” Voldemort said in a low voice, looking as if he felt ashamed. Too many people knew that he and his children were Parselmouths for him to be able to sweep it under the carpet. Thus he had to explain it. “I don’t want to risk him taking an interest in me. Everyone he has taken an interest in were hurt. Hermione … I’ve seen the scars Hermione has because of the war. I don’t want to be hurt as well.”

He could see Sabin became convinced that he wasn’t Lord Voldemort. Rochester, however, seemed to need a bit more convincing.

“Have you ever performed Dark Arts?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“As a professor at Oxford, you are expected to know about all types of magic. Including forbidden ones. I knew that when I was a student, and I made sure to read about it. But I have never hurt anyone.”

“When was this?”

“Around twenty years ago. I was living in Chile then.”

It was laughable at how easy it was to trick the Aurors. Another half an hour of questions, and Rochester didn’t look as if he believed Marcus was Voldemort either. He was administered the antidote against Veritaserum and ensured he looked just as embarrassed and ashamed as could be expected from someone who had just revealed uncomfortable truths about himself.

“Well then, Mr Foster,” Rochester said as he gathered the notes together. “We will have to discuss with our colleagues on how to continue from here. Someone will come by with something to eat and drink while you wait.”

Voldemort just nodded. Once the two Aurors had left, he rubbed his face, hiding a smile against his hands. Now he just had to trust that Hermione didn’t screw it up. However, he was sure she wouldn’t. She would want to get out of here as soon as possible to find Althea. He could trust her.

xxx

“Listen to Ken and be good,” Alexandra’s mum told her and stroked her hair. “Your father and I will be out of here as soon as we can.”

“Why can’t I stay with you?” Alexandra asked, feeling angry and sad. She didn’t want to leave her parents, even though Ken was a much better babysitter than any Weasley.

Her mother sighed. “I’m in custody. They will want to question me now and that will just be a long and boring talk where I try to figure out what is going on. You’ll be much more comfortable at home. You and Ken can order Chinese from that Muggle restaurant you like, and then, you can get ice cream for dessert.”

“What about Althea?” Alexandra asked desperately.

“We are taking care of it, Alex,” Hermione said, glancing over her shoulder at Ken. “Just make sure you are safe and don’t disappear as well. We’ll have your sister home in no time.”

“I can help!” Alexandra exclaimed.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s too dangerous, Alexandra. All you can do is make sure they don’t get you, too. That means you have to go home and stay there. Listen to Ken. Can you do that?”

Alexandra recognised her mother’s stern voice as the one that wouldn’t take no for an answer. There was no use arguing with her when she turned like that. Thus, she caved, feeling tears well in her eyes again.

Hermione sighed and pulled her into a hug. “I love you, Alexandra. Promise you’ll stay safe.”

“I promise, Mum,” Alexandra whispered. “Love you, too.”

She felt her mother place a kiss on the top of her head before letting go. Without another word, Alexandra went up to Ken.

“I’ll make sure she stays safe, Hermione,” Ken said. “Marcus has already asked me to find you an attorney. You’ll have one by tomorrow. I’ll search for Althea as well.”

“Thank you, Ken,” Hermione said.

A few minutes later, Alexandra and Ken had left the Ministry. She guided him to the Chinese restaurant, and they ordered some food to go. However, not even the prospect of take-away food (which her father would never allow them to have when he was home) could brighten Alexandra’s mood. She had no appetite.

Thus, when they finally sat down to eat in the kitchen, she only managed to force some food down before she asked if she could be excused.

“I don’t want your father to flay me alive, girl,” Ken remarked dryly. “Eat at least half of what you have left, and then, you can go.”

If things were normal, Alexandra would pass the comment off as a manner of speech. However, today was not normal.

“Would he?” she asked.

Ken calmly ate another shrimp and swallowed before he answered.

“What makes you think that?”

“They’ve arrested him because they think he is that Voldydorks.” It was a term she had been taught by George and Ron Weasley. Even though many of the people she knew could say “Voldemort” without problem, there was still something frightening about the name. It was easier to joke about it.

“Do you really believe that your father is the Dark Lord?” Ken asked, looking as calm and collected as he always did. Even though she had known him for as long as she could remember, she had never once seen him lose his temper. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t seen him all that often.

Alexandra snorted. “No way. He is evil. Dad isn’t evil.”

“Exactly why they clearly made some sort of mistake,” Ken replied. “I’ve just spoken to an attorney who will help them sort it out. If we are lucky, they will be home tomorrow afternoon.”

Alexandra still didn’t understand. Why would anyone think her parents had something to do with an evil wizard? She knew all about what Voldemort had done. James had told her ages ago. His father had been the one to take away all of Voldemort’s power in Britain, making him run. But before that, Voldemort had done many evil things, like killing and torturing people who were Muggle-born. Alexandra had tried asking her mother about it, but Hermione hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She just said those events belonged in the past, and it was better not to bring it up again.

Sighing, she forced herself to eat more. When she managed to eat as much as Ken had required, she left for their library.

Normally, she didn’t mind being in the library; that’s where the books lived. However, today she couldn’t focus on her reading. Instead, she let the fairy tale lay closed on her lap, and she stared into the fire.

She missed her parents like crazy. Not only that, but she missed Althea as well. If her sister had been here, Althea would have teased her about reading fairy tales when there were so many books about real magic. Alexandra, though, couldn’t understand what Althea found so fascinating about them. They were just filled with difficult words and boring diagrams. She loved listening to her parents when they talked about magic, but it was boring to read about it. Especially when compared to the adventures of the Blueberry Witch.

However, today not even the Blueberry Witch could take her away from reality. Her thoughts travelled back to her parents. She didn’t understand why her father had just let them take him like that. Marcus was the most powerful wizard of all time. He had told her so! Why hadn’t he fought against them? And why did her mother just stand aside and let them take him? She was always talking about how you should always stand up for your family. It didn’t make sense!

And now, her mother wanted her to just sit by and do nothing while they were in prison and Althea was missing. How could she do that? No, Alexandra decided she couldn’t do that. Somehow, she would find her sister. Determinedly, she put the fairy tale away and went to the bookcases. Her father always said that there was nothing you couldn’t do with magic; you just had to find the right spell. All she had to do was find the spell that found missing people. How hard could that be?

xxx

Once Alexandra left, Hermione was taken into an interrogation room for questioning. However, now that she knew her youngest daughter was being taken care of, she could put all of her focus on her oldest. And she no longer had the patience to be reasonable. If it weren't for Harry and the Aurors, Althea would never have been kidnapped. She could never forgive anyone for that.

"Mrs Granger, please be seated," Auror Nimlet said.

"I won't sit down until you let me go to search for my daughter!" Hermione cried. "If you hadn't taken us, this would never had happened! You don't find that suspicious at all?"

"The situation is unfortunate," the Auror admitted. "But when the accusations are this severe, we have to act swiftly. I'm sure you understand—"

"UNDERSTAND? The only thing I understand is that you chose to act on Harry's orders, even though he is known for acting recklessly regarding Voldemort."

"Mr Potter fought You-Know-Who on numerous occasions—"

"I have fought Voldemort on numerous occasions, too!" Hermione interrupted him again. "Didn't any of you stop to wonder why on earth Voldemort would choose to marry someone who fought against him and who is a Muggle-born?

Nimlet shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “Mr Potter showed us some memories where Mr Foster revealed that he was indeed You-Know-Who in disguise.”

Hermione hardly had to think a second before she found a way to get that evidence out of the way. “Mr Potter also has a memory where he sees his godfather being tortured by Voldemort. That never happened. In fact, what if the real Voldemort is behind all of this, throwing suspicions at me and my husband, while he makes his move elsewhere. What if he is the one who has kidnapped my daughter?”

It didn’t help her keep her calm that she knew someone much worse than Voldemort had kidnapped her daughter.

“We are searching for your daughter―”

“But you haven’t found her!” Hermione screamed.

“Please, Mrs Granger, calm yourself,” the Auror asked, looking even more uncomfortable than before.

“NO! Because of you lot, my daughter is missing. I won’t calm down until you let me out of here so I can search,” she hissed. “These accusations are outrageous. You know it, too. Why on earth would I help Voldemort with anything? After everything I’ve done to stop him?”

She held Nimlet’s gaze until he looked away, shifting in his seat. “I’ll go and talk with my colleagues about it.”

“Good,” she growled.

He left, and Hermione started pacing. She needed to see Voldemort. He would no doubt already have a plan on how they were going to get out of here. Hermione wasn’t sure what to do without her wand, and she didn’t have connections on the inside. She knew Voldemort would have backup plans for everything. But how could she convince the Aurors to let her see him?

She wasn’t sure how long she had been alone when the door opened and an unfamiliar woman entered. She was short. Her back was incredibly straight as if someone had strapped a board to it. In every way, she looked strict. Even her face was set in a no-nonsense sort of way.

“Mrs Granger,” the woman said and offered Hermione her hand. “I’m Alice Tamsin. I was sent by Mr Mizuro, at the request of your husband. I’ll be your attorney.”

Hermione shook her hand. “Are you here to get me out so that I can find my daughter?”

“I’m good, Mrs Granger, but I’m not that good. There’s still a nightmare of paperwork to go through. But I’ll have you both out in the morning. In the meantime, your husband has requested that the two of you share a cell tonight. Since few Aurors believe you to be associated with You-Know-Who, his request has been granted if you don’t object,” Tamsin said.

“How can they be okay with that and still want to keep us locked up?,” Hermione asked in disbelief. When Tamsin just shrugged, Hermione added: “And what about my daughter?”

“Mr Mizuro is looking into it as we speak,” Tamsin answered. “If you would please come with me, an Auror will escort us to Mr Foster.”

Well, seeing Voldemort was at least a step in the right direction. He would know of a way to break out of here. Tamsin and an Auror led her farther down the corridor of holding cells. All doors looked just the same, and Hermione had lost count when they finally stopped.

Without a word, the guard opened the door and let Hermione and Tamsin walk through.

“Hermione.” Voldemort rose from the bunk the moment he saw her enter.

Hermione was so relieved to see him that she ran up to him, throwing herself around him, before she broke down crying. Somehow, they could make things right together.

“Are you alright?” Voldemort asked, sounding alarmed as he patted her back in a comforting gesture.

“I’m fine,” Hermione sobbed.

“What is it? Didn’t Ken come to take care of Alexandra?

“He did,” Hermione said. “But Althea is missing.”

“What?” Voldemort said, looking absolutely horrified. “How? When?”

“Your daughter disappeared from the Hogwarts Express,” Tamsin answered, her tone cool and professional. “The Aurors, as well as your friend, Mr Mizuro, are doing their best to find her. I’ll have you both out in the morning, so you can join the search. That is, as long as you keep yourselves from doing anything rash.”

At the last part, she looked at Hermione, apparently guessing what was going on in the other woman’s mind. Hermione pressed her lips together. Like Tamsin knew what it was like, missing a child.

“I’m glad you could come at such short notice, Alice,” Voldemort said, grateful. “I have no idea how this came to be.”

“That’s what you pay me a ridiculous amount of money for, Foster,” Tamsin replied, giving Voldemort a wolfish smile. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning.”

Voldemort nodded at her, and Tamsin left again. When they were finally alone, Hermione leaned back, looking at his face while she grabbed Voldemort’s hand.

You have to break us out of here, she growled, using their mind connection.

Are you insane? If we break out, we’ll have to leave Britain. We’ll have to live on the run. It will be much harder to find Althea then. You heard Tamsin, we’ll be out tomorrow.

But—

Hermione, we know the fairies have her. They won’t harm her; they need her. But they won’t be easy to find. We can’t just storm out and search under every rock we find. We need a plan. And we can plan just as well here tonight, so we can set it in motion the moment we come out tomorrow.

She hated that his reasons made sense. She wanted to smash something. Scream. Instead, she started crying again. Voldemort sighed and embraced her.

“We will find Althea, dear,” Voldemort muttered into her hair. “I promise.”

Hermione put her arms around him as well, her crying easing. He was right. Nothing would be better if they stormed out. That was the Gryffindor in her speaking. And, as Harry had just showed, doing things the Gryffindor way never worked.

Did they interrogate you? he asked inside her mind once she had stopped crying completely.

Yes. Harry asked me to come clean, but I pretended not to understand what he was talking about, Hermione answered. How did your interrogation go?

Oh, they don’t think I’m Voldemort. They questioned me under Veritaserum. I’m positive I passed with flying colours, he replied, sounding chipper. Now, let’s talk for real. If someone is watching, I don’t want them to get suspicious.

Hermione reluctantly broke free from his embrace, but she still held his hand in hers. “Are you alright?”

“As good as can be expected,” Voldemort answered. “I had a hard time convincing them to call my attorney, though. I don’t get this. Why would they think I’m You-Know-Who?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, hesitating. Now that she had calmed down, she thought back to the plan she had made earlier about discrediting Harry. “I’m afraid there is something wrong with Harry. He has been very stressed lately. Perhaps Voldemort has got into his mind again, making him paranoid?”

Oh, clever girl, playing on Potter’s history with supposed mental problems, he praised her.

“Can You-Know-Who really do that?” Voldemort asked out loud, looking surprised and worried.

“Well, he has managed to trick Harry before,” Hermione mumbled bitterly.

Voldemort sighed and shook his head. “We’ll have to find some way to help him, when we get out of here. If You-Know-Who has cast some sort of paranoia-spell on him, we have to find a way to break it.”

Hermione nodded and looked around the cell for a place to sit. The cell was small, only containing a metal table, a pin chair and a hard-looking bunk with a grey wool blanket on top of it. She chose the bunk, and Voldemort followed her, pulling her towards him as they sat down.

“How do you know Tamsin?”

“She was a student of mine for a semester,” Voldemort replied. “Not that good at Transfiguration, but very clever. I advised her to change her career choice, and it seems to have been sound advice. She is one of the best attorneys money can buy. Not that I think we’ll need it. We wouldn’t have even been arrested if it hadn’t been Harry given the orders. I can’t imagine there being any evidence out there that supports their accusations. How could there be?”

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. “You are right,” she replied.

“What if Voldemort has forged some evidence?” she asked, worried. In her mind, she added: Or rather, the fairies?

“That’s what we have the best attorney for,” Voldemort said in a calming tone of voice, silently adding: The fairies can’t use magic in our world. Yet.

Hermione shivered and curled up against him. How could her entire world take such a horrible turn all of a sudden? She was supposed to be relaxing at home now after a day at the zoo with Alexandra. Perhaps she would’ve been planning her upcoming lecture before dinner. Not sitting in here, wanting to rip someone’s throat out from keeping her from finding her daughter.

Hermione and Voldemort didn’t say much to each other during the remainder of the evening. They received a modest dinner at around seven, and Hermione asked the guard if he had heard anything regarding the search for Althea.

The guard just shrugged. “Haven’t heard a thing, madam. Would you like an extra blanket for the night?”

“That would be nice; thank you,” she answered, surprised at how polite the guard was.

Then she realised that the guard probably didn’t believe that Marcus was Voldemort either. They were most likely ordered not to make things any worse for the Ministry.

At ten, they had to get ready for bed before the guards turned off the lights. Hermione removed her shoes and socks, but she kept her blouse and knee-length skirt on. Voldemort only kept his shirt and underwear on.

“You know I hate sleeping in trousers,” he replied in response to her arched eyebrow.

Hermione snorted. She knew the reason he hated sleeping with trousers on was because of his morning stiffness. Or sometimes, night stiffness. She wouldn’t be surprised if she would wake up later to find him not wearing underwear at all.

The moment they were underneath the blanket, the cell turned completely black. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. She didn’t think she could sleep, but she felt utterly exhausted.

Since the bunk was so small, Voldemort was already spooning her. They had only been lying down for a few minutes when his hands began to wander.

What are you doing? she asked into his mind.

You’re tense. You need to relax and sleep. I’ll help you with that.

You’re actually horny, she stated in disbelief.

Obviously. His hands reached the hem of her skirt, and he slowly pulled it upwards.

People can see us! Hermione objected, stopping his hand. And how can you think about sex when our daughter is missing?

They have turned the light off, and we are under a blanket. They can’t see a thing. Just keep quiet. And Althea will continue to be missing whether we fuck or not. Besides, if something unpredictable happens and we do need to break out of here, I’ll need the extra magic.

Hermione wanted to object. Having sex here, at this time, felt completely wrong. Yet, her skin was already tingling with pleasure because of their bond. She had never been able to say no to him. It seemed this time was no exception.

His hand started sneaking up under her skirt. Hermione moved her leg as his hand found the crotch of her knickers, pushing it aside so he could enter her with one quick thrust. Of course, she was already wet and ready for him. She always was. It would be unfair if she didn’t have the same effect on him. One suggestive look or a stroke in the right place, and he was as hard as a rock.

They were both addicts. The few times they had been away from each other for longer than a day was rough. Voldemort never admitted it, but she could see it. Felt it in the way he held her when they returned to each other. Being without him was like losing a limb.

A limb she loved.

She let out a gasp when his right hand found her clitoris. His left hand immediately came up to her mouth, silencing her by sticking two fingers into her mouth. Hermione bit down on them, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to voice her displeasure. He responded by kissing her shoulder.

His movement inside her was slow and minimal, so their guards wouldn’t notice if they were watching. Hermione did most of the work by clenching her vaginal muscles, massaging his cock. She loved it. Voldemort being inside of her pushed all other thoughts away. It wasn’t just his cock in her cunt, it was his entire presence inside her. She didn’t know if it was because of their Shared Flame, and she didn’t care. As long as he was there, nothing bad would happen. It was just pleasure, intimacy and magic. Their magic, coming together again, as it wanted.

She climaxed with a shudder, taking him with her, both of them suppressing groans. He withdrew his fingers from her mouth but let his softening cock stay inside her for a bit longer as he held her.

Hermione didn’t realise she had started to cry again until he brought the blanket up to her face, wiping away her tears. She was both physically and mentally exhausted.

“Hush, love,” he whispered. “It’s okay. We’ll get out of this.”

If those fucking fairies do anything to my daughter, I’m going to kill them, Hermione promised him. I’m going to find a way to make them corporeal and then I’m going to torture them like there is no tomorrow.

I know, kitten. I’m going to help you. The fairies will regret ever hearing our names, Voldemort replied. We will get Althea back, and then, we are going to destroy them. And anyone else standing in our way.
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