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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Hello, hope you have a nice Saturday and aren’t pulling your hair out because of the zillions of theories that are out there to understand religions. Examination-time is evil. Of course, this is nothing compared too all the horrors that have happened in Japan. My thoughts are with those of you who have in some way suffered because of this. Hope this chapter can bring you one glimmer of fun.

Chapter 4
Voldemort was not sure what he would do about Granger and the girl. After the meeting when he had used a diagnostic spell on the child, he’d promised to contact Granger when he had more information. She’d wanted to come along, but he didn't want her there. She was quite stubborn, and he’d thought back to the time when he could just torture those who didn't obey him. Nevertheless, he’d been able to steer her away from the ridiculous notion of coming with him. It would have been too hard to explain how he knew what sort of books known Death Eaters had. Even harder would it be to hide the fact that he had to break into a known Death Eater’s house to get it.
It took him two days to acquire the book he needed and a night to read through it. The information was not uplifting, but at least he found out what the deal with the diamond was. The fairies used that type of diamond to store a little of their magic in, and when he’d placed it on Granger's stomach after the intercourse, the magic had mixed with her egg and his sperm, creating a foetus. He was quite certain that it was the magic in the diamond that had made them able to conceive at all.
It made him angry and desperate at the same time. Since the fairy magic was located at the most fundamental parts of Althea’s body, he wasn't sure he could remove it, and he didn't want to experiment. However, he didn't want to tell Granger about fairies, since that would no doubt lead to uncomfortable questions. She was bright enough to start to look for an answer herself and possibly stumble over the right one. He would not underestimate young people again.
It was just past eight in the evening when he went and knocked on her door. No one opened, but he could hear sounds coming from inside. It sounded like crying. Without really reflecting on why, he broke down her ward, opened the door and stepped inside. The crying was coming from the bathroom. He found Granger sitting on the floor next to the bathtub, looking completely exhausted as she held the crying child on her lap.
“Oh, thank Merlin,” she mumbled when she saw him. “Please, help me!”
He stepped inside and tried to analyse what was wrong. When he couldn't see anything obvious, he asked.
“Food-poisoning.” Granger groaned. “I can't cook and gave us food-poisoning or something.”
It would have been amusing if the other little girl weren't crying so loud. “Why haven't you taken a potion?”
“Threw it up.”
“Ah.”
Granger seemed to be on the edge of tears as well. “I don't know what to do.”
If there was something Voldemort could do, it was giving orders. “Stay there—you look ready to faint—and just tell me where you have the potion. I know the spell Healers use that allows you to keep it down.”
She did what he said without questioning him, and fifteen minutes later, he managed to make both of them ingest the potion. Only a little while later, the child fell into an exhausted sleep. For the first time ever, he held her in his arms as he carried her to her bed. She was heavier than he would have guessed, but still so fragile. He really had to fight the impulse not to see how easy it would be to break one of the tiny bones. At the same time, he was fascinated. He hadn't really seen a child this small up close since he had tried to kill Potter, and even then, he had been standing several feet away. Now he was actually holding a small, warm, breathing creature which he wasn't about to kill. It was ... a new experience. He couldn't say he was overwhelmed by some sudden fatherly feelings, but he was sure he would be a great influence on this child's life. He would make sure of that.
Althea.
For some reason, he hadn't tasted that name yet. It wasn't what he would have chosen, but it suited her.
He put the sleeping child down in her bed right next to Granger's king-sized one. Then he went back to the woman still leaning against the bathtub.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in his most considerate tone. It was a pretense he had to use quite often since she stepped into his life, and he did not like it.
“Disgusting.” She groaned. “I think I've puke in my hair.”
“I can't say you smell fantastic,” he replied dryly.
She grimaced.
“I can help you to the shower if you like?” he suggested out of impulse.
She studied him, looking like she was longing for a bath and hesitant of having him go through even more trouble for her sake. After a moment, she made up her mind. “Since I don't want to go to bed like this, I'll take you up on that offer.”
He was having mixed feelings of annoyance and amusement over the situation as he helped her stand and move into the bathtub. Then he closed both the door to the bedroom and the door to the living room so they didn't disturb Althea.
“How did you manage this to begin with?” he asked as he cleaned the floor in the bathroom and the toilet from all signs of sickness with a quick spell.
“I made an attempt at a chicken dish my mother used to make. Althea loves it. I don't know what was off, but I guess all of it.” With a grimace, she turned on the water and then looked at him with a frown.
His eyes narrowed. “I won't leave you alone when you have just taken that potion. You know one of the side effects is fainting, and that never goes well with water.”
She looked a little relieved. “Well, turn around while I undress at least.”
That he did. He couldn't claim that he wasn't attracted by her, but he wasn't certain that was a path he should take. Sex with her had been … nice, but he told himself he could do without. Sex made women emotional, and he hated that. It also made them start to assume they could do things with him and touch his things (in a non-sex way), and that just wasn't what he wanted. He would make sure not to light that fire between them. She didn't seem to be interested in any sexual companionship either, so it probably would not be that hard.
He heard the shower curtain close and waited while she started to wash herself. It didn't take more than ten minutes, but he got quite hot from the fumes and unbuttoned his robe. He was wearing a white t-shirt and tailored pants underneath. No one but him knew how he had suddenly acquired a lot of money,and he would make sure to keep it that way. He hung the dark blue robe on a hook.
It was quite boring just standing there. Perhaps he should have brought a book? No, that would probably be considered rude. Instead, he let his eyes wander over the many things in her bathroom. A cupboard was standing next to the sink, and it was filled with different things: hair products, ointments, some cheep jewellery, rubber ducks … those were probably Althea’s. He doubted Hermione was still playing with them. She wasn’t that young after all.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw her shape behind the shower curtain. No, she was definitely not that young anymore. Not that he cared. No. Never. He was just noticing. Like how big her hair really was. Yes, that was what he was watching. Not the outlines of her arse and breasts. That would be silly.
To prove to himself that he wasn’t at all interested in her body, he turned his head to his left where the toilet was. Rolls of toilet paper were placed in a neat row and a book was lying on the shelf above it. It seemed to be some sort of Muggle amusement book. Things to do when constipated, the title read. Yes, because that was exactly what you needed when you couldn’t poop: things to laugh at. And people asked why he thought Muggles were a waste of space?
A small splash was heard, and he turned his head just in time to see Hermione’s silhouette fall down in the bathtub. He sighed in annoyance. Why hadn’t he just cast a Scouring Charm over her and got her into bed? Now he had to be all heroic and help the damsel in distress and all that. It was another thing he missed from being the Dark Lord. Back then, people had never counted on him to save anyone. Now, if he didn’t help her, she would start to ask questions and become sad. It would be easier just to help her. Thus, he pulled the curtain away and saw her sitting down in the bathtub. She gave him a weak smile.
“Guess my last bit of energy disappeared,” she whispered. She looked pale as a sheet.
Voldemort hardly heard her. Instead, his eyes fell down at her round breasts. They seemed to have filled out a bit since he last saw her. Her legs were closed, but he could make out some brown pubic hair...
Oh, Merlin, he shouldn't be watching her like that. He didn’t want to engage in that sort of relationship with her. No matter how deliciously squeezable her breasts looked. No.
“Come here,” he said, trying to look away from her petite yet curvy, naked body.
She barely had enough energy to raise her arms. He pulled her up and dried her off with a Drying Spell which made her hair look even more like a bird's nest. When he saw how much her legs were shaking, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her into her bedroom.
“Aren't you quite the knight,” she mumbled against his chest.
“I do my best,” he replied, trying not to think about the fact that his left arm was touching her breast. It was an impossible task, considering that just touching her made his skin hypersensitive to begin with. The fact that she was naked in his arms was not something his groin was ready to forget either. He tried to remind himself why he couldn’t just throw her down on the bed and fuck her senselessly. Just look at those legs. He wondered how flexible she was...
“I'm sorry to put you through this.” Her mumble broke his train of naughty thoughts, and before the temptation made him do something he really shouldn’t, he put her down carefully on the bed.
“Don't be,” he mumbled back and pulled the covers over her body, more so it wouldn't tempt him further than to comfort her. “Do you think you can sleep?”
“I don't think I could do anything else,” she admitted, her eyes closed.
“Do you want me to stay the night?”
Her eyes opened a little. “You wouldn't mind?”
He shrugged, feeling like he could just as well continue to play the part of a hero. “It’s not like I have anything better to do. I'll leave the door open and sleep on the couch.”
“Or ...” She bit her lip. “You could sleep here. The bed is quite big.”
Her offer made him hard, but it was not what he had planned to do with her. If he started to fuck her now … why wasn’t he? Oh, right, his plan with her was different. However, perhaps it should also include sex? If he took his time with her, he could make sure she didn’t do the same annoying things other women had done. Yes, that would be for the best. However, in the meantime, he would have to control himself.
“I think it will be best if I sleep on the couch, Hermione. But if there is anything you need, just call, okay?”
She nodded, a small flush appearing on her cheeks, but then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A minute later, she was asleep. Voldemort exhaled in relief and stepped away from the temptation. To occupy his thoughts, he went out to the living room. This would be an excellent time to snoop. He wanted to know more about her so he would know what to expect from her. He had read her thesis, and it was remarkably brilliant for someone her age, even if it could have used a more thorough background check. Denise Cathorn had done a similar project, looking on Animagi, and come to a completely different conclusion. He was surprised Granger hadn't heard about that but was looking forward to enlightening her about it. Nevertheless, he was quite sure she would not get swayed easily in her academic beliefs. He would have to go for her emotions. That wouldn't be too hard, especially not if he could stay away from sex.
Once again he shuddered as he remembered the sensation he felt every time he touched her. It wasn't unpleasant, quite the opposite, but he didn't like that he was unfamiliar with it. He had no idea what the pleasure meant. Until he did, he didn't want to experience it again. The mind-blowing experience of being inside her had been more intense than anything he had ever felt. His soul had become whole the very moment he ejaculated inside her, and he had been glad she hadn't been awake to see it. He had been shuddering for minutes, feeling weak and nauseous. Her presence had been annoyingly soothing. After maybe an hour, he had finally got strong enough to get dressed and leave.
Enough about that!
He scowled at himself and began looking around to find where he should start snooping. Bookshelves. He methodically went through her books and realised they had quite similar taste in books. However, where he had a burning passion for the Dark Arts, she seemed to enjoy Muggle novels. He could see both well-known classics and books that, when he looked more closely, appeared to be silly romance novels. Oh, well, she was a Gryffindor woman after all.
He went around in the room, looking at everything. Most of the pictures were unmoving and featured her parents and Althea. Two were from when she graduated in Australia. That came as no surprise to him; she was proud of her academic achievements. However, he hadn't expected her to be more proud of that than of her friends. There was only one photo of Potter, and it was placed in the bookshelf, almost hidden behind books. It was a wizard photo, and they were laughing together on a couch in a place he didn't recognise. There was no photo of anyone in the Weasley family even if he had it on good authority that she had been close with the two youngest ones. Especially the boy. Interesting.
The room held no big secrets at all, he concluded when he had gone through it all. The only thing worth seeing was a letter from Potter. Apparently, the two friends had drifted apart and were now looking to get back in contact. The letter didn’t reveal anything useful though, just some small talk and a confirmation that Potter and his fiancée would be happy to meet her. Perhaps her bedroom would be more interesting when he had a chance to be there alone. That would no doubt have to wait until she was away. Perhaps she would ask him to babysit then. That would give him plenty of time to continue the snooping.
Since it wasn't even ten o'clock yet, he didn't feel tired, so he pulled a book from her shelf and sat down to read. However, the picture of Granger's naked body kept popping into his head. He wanted to see it again. But he wouldn't. No. Not at all.
Somehow, he did manage to fall asleep after a lot of tossing and turning, but it felt like he hadn't slept at all when he was woken up by Althea's hissing next to him. The young girl watched him with interest from where she was sitting in the armchair.
“I'm hungry,” she stated.
“I take it you are feeling better?” he answered in Parseltongue and yawned.
“Yes. And now I'm hungry.”
He sat up on the couch he had been sleeping on. “What do you fancy for breakfast, then?”
“I want the grey goo with apples.” She was quite the little dictator, wasn’t she?
“Grey goo?” he asked, amused.
“Yes, that thing.” She went to the kitchen and pulled out a colourful package with oatmeal. “Mum makes it out of this.”
“I see. Well, I think I can make some porridge,” he said as he finally rose and stretched his back. After his snooping last night, he knew where Granger kept everything. A couple of minutes later, he was cooking, and Althea was sitting on the chair at the kitchen table, waiting.
“Don't you think you should go and wake up your mother and ask if she wants some?” he asked her.
“Mum doesn't understand me,” Althea replied matter-of-factly.
“Try.”
Althea sighed but jumped down from the chair and ran to the bedroom. Voldemort was surprised to hear some strange sounds that appeared to be a mix between Parseltongue and English. She would probably figure out how to speak soon enough. She had quite the vocabulary for someone her age. It must be his good genes.
After a few minutes, Granger appeared in the doorway, wearing a bathrobe and holding her daughter's hand.
“Good morning,” he bid her in his most neutral voice. “Are you feeling better today?”
She wouldn't really meet his eyes. “Yes, thank you for staying. And making breakfast. I'm starving.”
“I'm not surprised,” he replied and divided the porridge in three bowls before he served them.
She smiled shyly at him, and he pretended like nothing was amiss. Hopefully whatever impulse she had got last night to invite him to her bed had passed and she wouldn't attempt anything like it again. Yes. That was what he hoped...
“Oh, I've forgotten to ask; why did you come by last night?” she asked after they were eating in silence for a few minutes.
“Oh.” He realised that he still hadn't come up with what he was supposed to tell her about what he had found in the book. “I found the book, and I've read it.”
“And?” She looked hopeful.
“Magical overload,” he improvised. “She has extra magic inside of her, stored. I think that whatever it is between the two of us resulted in a very special magical being. She is a witch. Just more powerful.”
“I see.” Granger seemed both relieved and surprised. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“The book pointed out the common signs.”
“Then I want to see it for myself.”
His eyes narrowed. “You can't. I don't have it anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I had to read it at mycontact’s place. He doesn’t let you borrow anything.” He was so good at lying.
However, she didn't really seem to believe it. “Couldn't you copy it?”
“Not really. My associate is not the kindest spirit. I thought you could just take my word for it. It isn't really dangerous for her, but I think we should consider giving her a wand a little earlier, so she will have time to learn some control over her magic.”
She crossed her arms. “Who wrote the book?”
Damn. If he took too long to come up with an answer, she would definitely know something wasn't right. He could stall maybe three seconds. Did he know any author who had written anything about this sort of thing? Yes, but she would no doubt look them up. Could he make it up? No, same thing. He couldn't give her the real author's name because then she would be scared since the real author was rather infamous. What options did he have?
“It was written under the pseudonym Gaius Gaia,” he made up. “It’s from 1569 by a farmer's daughter, and as you know, people didn't really listen to farmers or women back then. When people found out who she really was, some of them got rather angry and jealous, I suspect. Only one copy of her book survived. The rest was destroyed, and she was given to the Muggles as a witch. They hanged her.”
Granger's eyes widened. “That's horrible! But what is the title of the book?”
“The Magick,” he replied, choosing a word he knew was well used. “Not the most original title and the book isn’t well-known. As I’ve said, I only heard rumours about it before and hardly that.”
“But you still trust what it says?”
“It explains Althea's symptoms in detail. Of course, they didn't know so much about the brain back then, but there was a picture showing the green colouring in the brain at the exact same spot as we saw on Althea.”
“Who did she do the test on?” Granger asked suspiciously.
“Herself. She was a very powerful witch.”
She finally seemed to believe him, but he was sure she would try to look the author up as soon as she could. He would have to come up with something. Perhaps write a fake paper about Gaius Gaia?
“So when do you think we should give Althea a wand?” Granger asked while she magically cleansed the empty bowls and put them away.
“Not before she learns how to speak,” he said thoughtfully.
Then he realised what she had said: “We”. She was counting on him to be here. Well, that wasn't so strange considering that he had said he wouldn't leave this time. However, wasn't it a bit early for her to count on him? The thought made him uneasy in a way he hadn't felt before. Why he felt so uncomfortable, he had no idea.

xxx

Since the other two were no fun at breakfast, Althea left them and went to the bedroom. She didn't really have a plan on what she wanted to do in there, but it was more fun than listening to old people blabbering away. It wasn't about her, so she wasn't interested in what they were talking about.
While inside the room, she went up to the window to watch the pretty light reflecting into the room. Right under the window still was the best place to sit. From there you could see the light come in, hit the pretty lamp hanging from the ceiling and make pretty lights on the walls. When the light was right enough, she would get up and start to make shadow-shapes with her body. It was funny. However, this time, a shadow broke loose. Althea watched in interest as it took the form of a small, black snake.
“Hello, Althea,” the shadow whispered.
“Hi,” Althea answered, forgetting that she couldn't speak in ways ordinary people understood. Only the Marcus man understood. He was fun.
The black shadow snake, however, understood and responded. “Do you want to play?”
Althea nodded. It was always fun to have new playmates. She hadn't had that many in her short life. Her granma and da-da hadn't really wanted her to play with other young children, and her mum didn't seem to want it now either. Not that Althea minded so much—she could play with her imaginary friends instead.
“What do you want to play?” the creature asked.
“We can play with the pretty light,” Althea suggested.
“That sounds fun. How do you play?”
Althea showed the creature, and they started to play. The creature was very funny. Once and again, it would start to glow really bright so Althea could make even more shadows on the wall. She didn't really have a concept of time; but after some time had passed, her mum called her, and Althea told her new friend she had to leave.
“You can come again another time,” Althea told the creature.
“I'd like that. You are a very special little girl, Althea, and I’d like to help you and play with you. But then you have to promise to keep me a secret. You can't tell anyone about us playing because then they may want to play with us as well and that wouldn't be fun, would it?”
Althea didn't really understand why it had to be a secret, but she nodded. “Okay. I won't tell them.”
“Until next time, then.” The creature disappeared into the shadows again.
Althea tilted her head and ran her hand over the wall where the creature had disappeared. There was no opening. The creature must know magic then. Fun! Althea would have to find a way to make it teach her. She wanted to know magic as well. Magic was fun.

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