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The Contract	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55321 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Hello! Here are a new chapter, but first a notice and some answers!

I have heard that there is another story on this site which is also named “The Contract”. Since I first hadn’t planned to put this story here as well, I never bothered to check if there was another story with the same title as mine.

The other “The Contract” was posted 2007 by a woman named rdwind and you can find it here; http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600009611. And if you look at just the pairing, you’ll see that our fictions have nothing in common except the title! It’s unfortunate, but I’m not planning to change the title. There are a lot of same-named fics on this site and since we haven’t got the same paring, I don’t feel the need to change the title.

Now, some review-answers!

Kitty; Sorry, but there won’t be much romance in this story. Neither Voldemort nor Hermione is very romantic! Haha, yes, I think you have read too many fics about Dumbledore being manipulative. As I say in the first chapter; Dumbledore see is as a mission in life to take care of his students. The necklace was something he gave her because he wanted to make it easy for her. Perhaps it will appear again, perhaps not, but it’s not a spying device! Hermione don’t want to tell Voldemort about the necklace simply because she’s trying to have some private life and secrets, doesn’t matter how minor.

Wishes are quite dangerous things if they are used too freely, Voldemort knows that. And he is also arrogant enough to think that Hermione are too scared to tell him anything but the truth. Besides, he doesn’t really think she has much to hide. She is just a young girl in his eyes!

Lunalove; Oh, he will be quite a devil in bed soon enough! But that was just the first time! Perhaps he was nervous ^^

I’m glad so many find this story so interesting! I love your reviews and if anything is unclear for you, don’t hesitate to ask. I won’t give away the plot, but I can give some answers!

Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Dumbledore placed his fingers on his temples and sighed. Ever since it became common knowledge that a Hogwarts student married Lord Voldemort, parents weren’t so keen to send their children to the school anymore. Several parents had already sent owls to tell him that their children weren’t coming the next term. It bothered Dumbledore. He had always thought education was the foundation of goodness. Children who didn’t get a proper education were easier to trick into the Dark.

Not that Tom Riddle hadn’t had a proper education… Something else must have been wrong with that boy. He just hadn’t been like any other boy Dumbledore had ever met. The small orphan boy had always acted strange. The Headmaster remembered Tom’s first birthday at the school…

“Mr Riddle?” Dumbledore found the twelve-year-old boy near the forest. It was the last day of the year and not many students remained over the holidays. As it was cold outside, everyone seemed to be inside their respective Common Rooms. But for some reason, Tom Riddle was standing outside.

“Hello Professor,” the boy said calmly. He had been looking at something in the forest, but now he turned around and faced his teacher.

“What are you doing outside in the cold and all alone?” Dumbledore asked.

“Just walking. I like the snow.”

“Yes, it’s very beautiful… you are lucky to have such beautiful weather on your birthday.” Dumbledore carefully watched the boys reaction, but Tom merely shrugged.

“I guess.”

“Why don’t you go inside and celebrate with your friends. I can ask a house-elf to bring you a cake,” Dumbledore suggested. As he was raised in an orphanage, he probably never received a birthday cake before.

“No, thank you, Professor. I don’t like cake.”

Dumbledore was pulled out of his reverie when the door to his office burst open and a very upset Harry Potter stormed into the room. He was holding an envelope in his hand and he threw it on Dumbledore’s desk.

“Look!” Harry shouted. “Look at what the bastard has done to her!”

Frowning, Dumbledore opened the envelope and found a card. On the back of it the card said, our wedding night - Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore turned the card and saw a picture of Hermione. She was sitting on a bed, holding a blanket around her body. She had a horrified look on her face and he could see that she had been crying.

He sighed and put the photograph down on his desk. “I’m sorry you received this, but we knew this would happen.”

“You knew that son of a bitch would rape her?” Harry screamed at Dumbledore, spittle escaping his mouth.

“Please, Harry, language.” Dumbledore sighed again. “I don’t believe he raped her per se… He can’t physically hurt her…”

“But she has been crying!”

“Yes… But I would have been very surprised if she hadn’t cried when Lord Voldemort took her to his bed… He is not a pleasant man.” Dumbledore felt quite uncomfortable talking about sex with a student. He was an old man after all, and Voldemort’s idea of a joke had shocked and saddened him.

“There has to be a way to get her away from him!” Harry yelled and slammed his fist into the back of an armchair that stood in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

“I am trying to find a way to break the Contract, but there is no known way.”

“You’d better find a way soon,” Harry hissed and left the office.

Dumbledore sighed and looked at the picture again. What could he do?

xxx

The tailor was a minor Death Eater. Voldemort would not let his wife met with anyone from outside his influence. Not yet anyway. He brought the tailor to their room and stayed there during the visit. He wanted to be sure the girl didn’t say anything inappropriate. The girl and the tailor were standing in the middle of the room. Voldemort sat by the desk, pretending to read.

“You have the most gorgeous legs I have seen in a long time,” the tailor complimented the girl.

She blushed. “Thank you… er…” She was standing on a pall in only her underwear. Voldemort hadn’t wanted the tailor to see her naked, so he commanded her to wear underwear. Voldemort looked up when he heard the tailor’s comment. He realised he hadn’t really looked at her body before. Now when he did, he discovered he found her quite pretty. He’d had many beauties in his days, but looks never mattered to him. As long as he was satisfied, he didn’t care what they looked like. After a while, all women looked the same.

But his wife was pretty. She would never be a wife he could show off (like Lucius could do with Narcissa), but maybe if he hired someone to do something about that hair… He didn’t like her hair and he was sure she didn’t either. There would be occasions where she would need to look elegant and with that hair, she needed all the hired help he could get her.

“I know just what kind of robes you should wear,” the tailor continued as he finished taking her measurements. “You should wear straight seams, that way you will look more symmetric. And I’m thinking natural colours, like brown, green, orange… perhaps some darker tones of red. Not blue or yellow, it will only make you look sick.”

“Black,” Voldemort said and looked down at his book again. “I want black. Other colours for her feast robes. But no orange.”

“Er… of course, Sir. Black goes with everything,” the tailor said and looked at Hermione who shrugged. “I’ll have them done before Monday!”

“Good,” Voldemort said in a tone of dismissal. The tailor bowed and hurried out from the room.

“It wouldn’t kill you to be friendly,” the girl muttered and went to the bed where she had placed her robe.

“But it will,” Voldemort said and got up from the chair. “If I’m friendly without reason, people will see it as a weakness. I’m only friendly when I want something…”

Hermione snorted and started to pull on her robe.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Voldemort asked and let his eyes wander down to her kickers.

“What?” she said, but then followed his eyes. She scowled, pulled her knickers off and threw them at him.

He caught them with a smile. “One day, I will not even have to remind you.”

She just snorted. “I don’t understand why I can’t wear them. I’m uncomfortable without them.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, his eyes still on her.

He felt a throb in his pants. Should he…? It had been very boring to just sit here and watch her in those plain underwear. Boring, yet still… he was a man after all. He knew it was a weakness but no one had to know. The girl wouldn’t tell anyone if he gave in to his physical urges. Before last night, it had been a very long time since he’d had sex with a woman.

“Stop,” he said softly.

“Wha…” She turned around and saw him unbutton the front of his robe. Her eyes fell down to his loins. “Oh…”

“Pull it off,” he ordered.

She swallowed, but did. Her robe fell to the floor.

“Place your hands on the wall,” he commanded and moved toward her.

“Why…”

“Do it,” he growled. He didn’t want her trying to stroke his hair like he was a dog or something.

She swallowed again but did as he commanded. He could see that she was trembling. He put his hands on her waist and slowly let his hands caress the sides of her body. She was petite; she had a small waist, small hips and small breasts. The only big thing about her was her hair.

“Wha…”

“Hush, wife…” He kissed her ear. “I wish for you to get wet enough for me to penetrate you.”

She gasped and he continued to kiss his way down her neck and over her shoulder. His hand went down to her pussy and found it satisfyingly wet. “Spread your legs.”

She did. She had quite long legs but not long enough. He bent his knees and pushed into her. She gasped again, but didn’t move her hands from the wall. Excellent. He started to push faster into her. This wasn’t making love. He just wanted release. He had been tensed and stressed about the Finland affair all day.

He hardened his grip on her hips as he thought about it. How could they deny him access to the market? Sure, he was planning to control it, but now they had banned him as a costumer. Banned him! Oh, they would pay. He would make sure they regretted the day they put Lord Voldemort on the black list.

He was ripped out of his angry thoughts when she screamed as she orgasmed. Her already tight channel clenched him in a way that was both painful and pleasurable. He came too with a low growl. The girl was trembling and if he hadn’t held such a tight grip around her waist, she would have probably collapsed. He lifted her up and carried her to bed.

“So you like it hard?” he asked smugly.

“Hmmm…?” was all she answered. “I’m tired…”

He chuckled. He felt much better now. Relaxed, focused. “You may sleep. I have some things I should take care off.”

“Mhm…” She was almost asleep. He wasn’t surprised. She had been tossing and turning half the night before.

After a quick shower, he left the room. He had to make sure someone took care of those annoying Order members in Hamina.

xxx

When Hermione woke up again it was dark outside. Voldemort wasn’t in bed so she figured he was still working. What did that man do all day and night? There had been a lot of Death Eater activity lately, but Voldemort hadn’t been seen since Harry killed his previous body. She wasn’t surprised he wasn’t with them to do the dirty work. He seemed to be more comfortable with letting others get their hands dirty. But what was he doing? Was he supervising them in some way? Did he sit in some chamber and think about nasty ways to kill people?

She stepped into the shower and snorted at her own thoughts. She was just being curious. Who wouldn’t be interested to know what the most fearsome man alive did when he was alone. She knew Dumbledore would be very happy for what little information she could bring him. Like Voldemort being interested in the Cup, having affairs in Hamina and… sleeping next to her. Who would have thought the Dark Lord would actually sleep in the same bed as his wife? Sure, they had to live together and this room was his home for the moment but… why couldn’t he just use another bed?

Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to ask; she started to wash herself thoroughly. She realised she had dried sperm on the inside of her thighs and she felt disgusted. Why had she responded to him like that? She had been scared when he ordered her to take off her robes. Scared and… excited. She knew he couldn’t hurt her. Not physically, anyway.

She groaned and leaned her forehead against the wall as she fought away the tears. It was not as if she liked him in any way. She hadn’t had sex with anyone before him, but she was sure it was supposed to feel better than this. Even with Victor she had felt some kind of spark. A connection. She couldn’t feel any of that with her husband. He was… what they did… it was just physical. Not just with the sex but with everything! He didn’t care about her. All he did was make sure she was safe and healthy and that was because he was obligated to do it!

She started to wash the rat nest she called hair.

He didn’t like her hair either. Not that she was surprised. Who would like her hair? Not even Ron had. But, did he have to be so blunt about it? She already knew it was horrible.

When she was done, she stepped out from the shower and pulled a plain white towel around her body. She had clean robes in her trunk but her trunk was in the bedroom. She forgot to bring it with her to the bathroom. Sighing, she went back into the bedroom and headed for her trunk.

“What are you doing?”

Hermione looked toward the bed and saw Voldemort sitting there, reading a book. He watched her with a surprised look on his face. She pulled the towel closer around her body.

“I… I forgot my robe… I just figured I could get a clean one from my trunk…”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” he said while he pointed toward the window. It was still dark, but it had started to get lighter on the horizon. She realised they must be somewhere in the north of Britain. Probably in Scotland. Otherwise it wouldn’t have started to lighten yet.

“Well… I fell asleep after we… and when I woke up… I just wasn’t sleepy anymore.”

His lips curled. “Oh, you weren’t sleepy? So you decided to take a shower?”

She refused to blush. “Yes.” Feeling bold she asked, “Why are we sleeping in the same bed, anyway?”

He looked surprised again. Before he answered, Hermione found a robe and pulled it on. She took her brush and sat down on the chair next to the desk and began combing it.

He sighed, put a mark in his book, and rose from the bed. “I will not redecorate because of you.” He took the brush from her hand and pulled out his wand. “Besides, if I separate our beds there will be almost no room for us when I require your service.”

She snorted. “You weren’t using a bed this afternoon.”

“This afternoon wasn’t… planned.” He waved his wand and suddenly, her hair was dry and not as tangled as before. “There, it’s the best I can do. I don’t use hair spells that often.”

Hermione brought her hand to her hair and ran her fingers through it. “It has never been this smooth before, thank you. Where did you learn that spell?” She turned around and watched him make a grimace as he sat down on top of the desk.

“Abraxas Malfoy was two years my senior. He was very keen on his appearance. I picked up a thing or two.”

Hermione snorted again. “I can imagine.”

He sneered. “The youngest Malfoy has told me quite a bit about you.”

Hermione arched her eyebrows. “Really? When?”

“Some hours ago. He just returned from school.”

Hermione felt a stab in her heart when she thought about Hogwarts. “Oh… Yes… The ceremony must have been this evening… Will I receive my N.E.W.T’s results?”

He shrugged. “If Dumbledore sends it to you, I will let you look at them. But I will review the letter before you read it.”

“Why?” she asked with a frown.

He smiled sweetly. “Because I am responsible for your safety and who knows what kind of dreadful curses you can find in a letter.”

She scowled. “Well, it’s not like anyone would send any secrets to me.”

“You never know.” He got off the desk and back to the bed. “If you’ll excuse me, I will try to get some sleep. I have made another appointment for you tomorrow.” He threw of his robe and hung it over the end of the bed.

“What for?” she asked and tried to look anywhere but at her husband’s naked backside as he crawled into the bed.

“A hairdresser. No one will take me serious if I show up with you and that hair.”

His comment hurt, but not so much as it would have if someone she actually cared about had said it. Sighing, she decided to think about it positively. At least the hairdresser couldn’t make it any worse.

xxx

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror with her mouth hanging open. What looked to be a dead poodle was lying on the floor, but if you looked closer, you would see that it was most of Hermione’s hair. If she couldn’t see and feel her hair, she wouldn’t have thought anything was left on top of her head. But there was. Her eyebrows was thinner as well.

The hairdresser, a minor Death Eater, made herself ready to leave. “That will be all, then… if you are pleased?”

Hermione nodded. The hairdresser seemed a bit anxious, like Hermione would make Voldemort kill her or something.

“Good day then, Missus… And good luck with the baby and everything.”

“The what?” Hermione turned around and stared at the hairdresser.

“Oh,” the hairdresser seemed surprised. “We just thought that was why he married you. You know, all purebloods wants an heir.”

Hermione stared at her. Did Voldemort want people to believe that she was carrying his child? They had never talked about it. “I… we haven’t been married that long yet…”

“Oh, of course… um… goodbye!”

She left and Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t know if she was prettier than before. It was her but only different. Perhaps if she put on some make-up. Hermione went to her truck and rummaged until she found a brown eyeliner and some mascara. She didn’t use make-up, but Ginny had given her some for Christmas and said she should use it sometime. With the new hairstyle, Hermione felt like now was the best time.

Very slowly, she put on the mascara and eyeliner. It made her eyes more colourful but something was not right. She tried to smile, but she only managed to grimace. She looked ridiculous. Like some little girl who was trying to look like someone else.

The door opened again and Voldemort stepped inside. He arched an eyebrow when he saw her.

She groaned. “I know, I look ridiculous…”

“Stand up,” he said. Now she saw that he was caring a package under his arm.

She stood up and tried not to play with her new hair.

“Yes, you do look a bit ridiculous,” he nodded.

She grimaced again.

“But I think you will look much better once you get out of your schoolgirl uniform,” he continued. “It is not very flattering.”

He went up to her and put the package on the desk. When he opened it, she saw it contained her new robes.

“Go ahead, put them on,” he said.

She pulled up the first one. It looked more like an old fashion dress than a robe.

“Er… could you… turn around?” she asked as she started to unbutton her school robe.

He just arched an eyebrow. She sighed and changed clothes as quickly as she could. He helped her to button up the dress. She couldn’t help but to like the dress. It was made of a very soft material that caressed her body. When she saw herself in the mirror she liked it even more. She had never had curves, but her body looked very feminine in the dress. There was a dark green petticoat under the black dress robe. The neckline was a vee cut, but wasn’t too low. The dark green material was showing under the robe and the arms were long and wide.

“There, now you actually look like a young woman,” Voldemort said. “I won’t have to be ashamed having you on my arm.”

Hermione glared at him, but she couldn’t help but feel prettier. She looked in the mirror again and couldn’t resist a smile. She felt a little like she had during the ball in her forth year.

Voldemort touched her hair with a satisfied smile. “Yes, this is much better.”

Hermione looked herself in the mirror again and it suddenly hit her. She wasn’t Hermione Granger anymore. She was a Lord Voldemort’s wife.

xxx

There were many things Lord Voldemort knew. He knew the secrets passages under London; he knew how to speak twenty different languages and read a dozen more. He knew which body parts to press to make a person paralysed. He even knew what snakes gossiped about.

However, one thing he never figured out was why women seemed to cry when they should be happy.

He had given the girl a manageable hairstyle and new clothes and she started to cry. The crying-after-an-orgasm, he thought he had figured out. She became so relaxed that all the tension disappeared and caused her to cry. It was logical. He had just read a little psychology and the answer had been there. He did believe you could learn almost everything from a book.

“Why are you crying now?” he asked angrily.

“I-I’m sorry…,” she sobbed. “It just hit me… I’m not… me anymore.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered.

“Why?” She stopped crying, and her make-up was still in place. “I had to give up everything to come here! Now, I don’t even look like myself! Do I even have my own last name anymore?”

Well, when she put it that way… “What last name should you have?”

She shrugged. “Riddle?”

He snorted. “I don’t even by that name.”

“I refuse to be called Lady Voldemort.”

He snorted again. “Yes, that would be absurd. You are a Mudblood, after all.”

The girl folded her arms. “Well, you are a half-blood, so it wouldn’t be that weird.”

He froze and stared at her. He wanted to hit her so hard, but he couldn’t. “What did I tell you about making me angry?”

“What will you do about it?” the girl asked cocky.

“I will go and take out my rage on a poor, probably innocent, Muggle. And you will have to live with the guilt.” He turned around and moved toward the door.

She ran to stand in front of the door, her eyes still red and now frightened. “No! Please, I didn’t mean to…”

“Too late,” he hissed and pushed her aside.

Before he opened the door, she took his arm and pulled him back. He could see the desperation in her eyes. “Take it out on me instead!”

He watched her coldly. “Remember, I can’t. And don’t touch me.”

She let go of him. Her eyes were big and she was begging. He smiled cruelly and locked the door behind him. His mission had always been to gain power over other people. Now he knew he had real power over his wife. She would do anything to stop him from hurting others.
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The Contract