Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Weave a Circle Round Him Thrice	By : SRaven_Underhill Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 14494 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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AN: I apologize profusely for taking so long with this update. I’ve been incredibly busy and haven’t had as much time to write. The next update will likely be mid-December. Thank you to all who have read and reviewed!

V. Dreams and Quizzes

She was walking through a forest, the Forbidden Forest perhaps, and she was lost. She had been looking for something, though she couldn’t remember what it was that she had been looking for. It was a full moon and the dense canopy of trees caused shafts of moonlight to form, highlighting little and casting most of the forest into shadow. She paused for a moment, trying to decide which way to go, when she felt the barest touch of lips against her ear. She gasped.

            “Out for a midnight stroll?” The whisper against her ear caused her to shiver.

            She turned abruptly to confront the voice, and found herself inches away from the Dark Lord. “I’m looking for something,” she said, her brow furrowed.

            “Oh? And what are you looking for, my pet?” His lips ghosted over hers as he spoke and he smirked when Hermione’s cheeks flushed.

            “I….I-I don’t remember,” she said, attempting to take a step away from him.

            He reached out and entwined his long fingers in her hair before gripping it tightly. He pulled her to him and tipped her head back so that she was forced to look up at him. Hermione felt her pulse quicken, her flush deepening. They looked into each other’s eyes for several long moments.

            “Interesting,” the Dark Lord said as he looked away from her for a moment, as if mulling something over. It wasn’t long before his attention returned to her, however, and his other arm snaked around her waist.

            Hermione felt the urge to press her body to his. She had an overwhelming need to make them one. Hadn’t she lost something? Her brain felt foggy and it only exacerbated her muddled thoughts when the Dark Lord leaned down and kissed her forcefully. With a single kiss Hermione felt herself becoming undone. Her fingers grasped at his robes, not with the intention to undress him, but because she felt like she was falling. She moaned, her eyes clenched tightly shut. If he stopped the kiss, she would surely die. He was like oxygen. But stop it he did by pulling her back by her hair. Panting, she tried to pull him to her, which only caused him to chuckle darkly.

            “Please…” she begged, her eyes refusing to leave his.

            “What do you want, little one? Tell me,” he looked at her intently, drinking in her current state with obvious delight.

            “You.”

            Hermione gasped and sat bolt upright in bed, the book she had been reading the night before fell to the floor with a dull thump. Her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat and she felt an unsated throb at the apex of her thighs. She gasped and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. This could not be happening. Absolutely not. But it had seemed so real, which is perhaps what unnerved her the most. Hermione wasn’t accustomed to such vivid dreams, and the fact that such a dream should happen now, especially considering the contents…it was suspicious to say the least. She did NOT have those feelings for Lord Voldemort. With a huff, she got out of bed and retrieved the book. There were still a few chapters left to read and she wanted to have a chance to review the entire book again before her little exam later. Her hands shook as she turned the pages.

            Lord Voldemort stood in his potions laboratory, tinkering with several different ingredients. He was quite pleased with the way things were going. The girl was giving him minimal fuss, and the first step had been a success. He glanced into a small black cauldron, the contents of which simmered delicately, and pulled out a slim crystal vial. The vial held a most peculiar substance, and for a casual onlooker, it would have been difficult to tell whether the substance was liquid or something else entirely. Lord Voldemort held it reverently, unstopping it with gentle fingers. He added the contents of the vial to the potion, the opalescent substance dripping in slowly with several heavy drops. The contents of the cauldron turned dark green before returning to an inky black.

            Once the potion was complete, the girl would drink it. He smirked. He couldn’t wait to have that know-it-all Gryffindor crawling to him, bending her to his will. A member of the Golden Trio under his control. How utterly delightful.

            Hermione caressed the leather cover of the book idly, her eyes unfocused. As she drew tiny circles with her fingertips, she pondered the actions of her captor. He wanted her to read this book because “there was much for her to learn outside of the Hogwarts curriculum”. But she knew there was something more.

            Amoral magic….magical companions….

            The sudden creak of the door jolted her and she turned to look at the intruder, her brown curls whipping against her cheek.

            “I hope you’ve completed your assignment,” Voldemort said, his mouth quirking into a smile that suggested certain punishment if she hadn’t done as he’d asked. Or told, rather.

            She forced a smile that she knew was unconvincing. Of course she had finished the book. One did not place a book in front of Hermione Granger and expect it to remain unread. As he looked down at her, the dream from last night floated through her thoughts, unannounced, and she flushed.

            “Good,” he smirked, walking casually to the bed and holding out his hand for the book.

            Hermione held it against her chest protectively for a moment before handing it over begrudgingly.

            “There will be more books, Ms. Granger…if you pass my test.” He grasped the book in one hand, his long, pale fingers looking like talons. “Tell me,” he continued, strolling around the room, “What did you learn about magic and intention?”

            Hermione glared at him as he paced. “That magic is amoral. It isn’t inherently ‘good’ or ‘evil’ and it only becomes so based upon the intention of the user.”

            “Very good, Ms. Granger. I see you can read and regurgitate words quite easily.”

            She flushed again, this time in anger. “I’m not going to play your stupid little game,” she hissed.

            She had never seen anyone move so quickly. In one graceful, swooping movement, he was upon her, his fingers gripping her hair. “Oh, but you are playing, pet. I’ve been kind to you, but I can be cruel.” He tossed her to the floor, where she landed with a soft grunt.

            She suddenly broke, as if waking from a strange dream. “KIND?!” She shouted from her sprawled position on the floor. “What do YOU know of kindness? Why are you keeping me here? Giving me books? What’s in it for you?”

            He walked towards her with deliberate slowness, eerily calm, twirling his wand between his fingers. “Because I see great potential in you. The Order, your friends, have left you here to die.” He crouched beside her and pressed his wand against her throat. Hermione stiffened, but the anger in her eyes refused to disperse.

            “That isn’t true,” she spat.

            “Isn’t it?” He replied softly.

            She leaned forward, forcing the wand at her throat to dig into her skin. “I will NEVER swear allegiance to you.”

            “Crucio,” he whispered, enjoying the way the word slipped so easily, so effortlessly, from his thin lips.

            A scream was ripped from her as her body contorted in pain. Voldemort slowly stood, watching her thrash. His eyes closed briefly as his body responded to her passionate screams. When she began clawing at the floor, he ended the curse. Hermione slowly curled into the fetal position, her breath escaping her in labored pants.

            As if suddenly inspired by her helplessness, Voldemort held out his hand, drawing Hermione’s body up off of the floor to hover in front of him. Small aftershocks of the curse caused her body to sporadically tremble and despite her best efforts, a soft whimper escaped her lips. Their eyes met and Hermione gasped as the Dark Lord invaded her mind. Her current state allowed him easier access and he flipped through her most recent memories with ease.

            He paused his search when a fleeting image of he and Hermione caught his eye. They were kissing in a dark forest and the young witch was clinging to him. He smirked as he watched and when he pulled out of her mind, he chuckled.

            “You say you despise me, Hermione, yet your dreams say otherwise.”

            “No,” she said, her brow furrowed. “You….did something to me.”

            Voldemort grasped her chin. “I’ve done no such thing. Have you ever considered, Hermione, that power, knowledge….can be seductive?” His face was rather close to hers, and she could feel his breath against her lips. “Though you will refuse to admit it, there is part of you that wants this. I can teach you things that you would never learn under the Order’s tutelage.”

            Hermione said nothing, opting to stare at him with stubborn determination.

            “However, I can always return you to the dungeons. You can stay there without company, without books, without the mental stimulation that you so crave. You can waste away in that cell until the war ends, at which point I will no longer have any use for you.” He released her chin and let her fall to the floor in a heap. “The choice is yours.”

            Her eyes stung, but she refused to cry in front of him. Her limited options presented her with a conundrum. Surely, becoming Voldemort’s student would somehow betray her friends, yet she couldn’t imagine being confined to a cell for Merlin knows how long. That was a fate worse than death. In learning from him, there might be a way to overthrow him, to learn his weaknesses, or even gain his trust. It was a long shot, but what other choice did she have? In a cell she would waste away and become absolutely useless.

            “I want to learn…” she said, her voice sounding rather hoarse.

            “Good girl,” he said, his tone vaguely patronizing. “I will send someone here to collect you later this evening. I want you to be present for a….ceremony, of sorts.” He walked past her, his silky robes brushing against her bare arm.

            Hermione continued sitting on the floor, even after she heard the door close with a definitive thud.

            After telling their tale to Fleur and Bill, Ron and Harry were shown to their room.

            “Eet izn’t much,” Fleur said, handing extra blankets to Harry, “But eet’s safe here.”

            Harry smiled. “Thank you. You’ve been more than helpful.” With a nod, he walked into the small room and set the blankets down.

            “Any ideas?” Ron asked, yawning.

            “It’s getting late,” Harry said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes beneath his spectacles. “Maybe we can think of something in the morning.”

            “Do you think she’s still alive, Harry?” Ron asked suddenly, his voice heavy with sorrow. Harry swore he heard Ron’s voice crack, but the red head had turned his back to him, fiddling with one of the blankets.

            “I’m sure she’s alive. I know it. She’s the brightest witch of her age, remember?” He tried to sound confident, but he wasn’t so sure. He had no idea what the next step should be. There were too many holes, too many unanswered questions. He had a horcrux, but had no idea how to destroy it. He had no idea where the others were, just as he had no idea where to find Hermione. So many people were relying on him, accepting that he knew what to do. Harry sat on the edge of the bed and unclasped the locket from his neck. Some savior he was.

Hermione was leaning against a bedpost when a house elf arrived, a black bundle of fabric in its small arms. She pushed herself off of the bed and greeted the creature.

            “This is for you, miss,” the elf squeaked.

            Hermione took the soft fabric and untied the velvet ribbon that held it together. A small piece of parchment lay underneath the bow.

            A gift for you to wear this evening. You have one hour. Don’t keep me waiting.

            Hermione set the parchment on the bed and grabbed the top of the garment, letting it unfold with a gentle whisper of delicate fabric. She stared at the simple black dress with confusion.

            And now he was sending her presents. Fantastic.
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Weave a Circle Round Him Thrice