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Captive Audience	By : magentasouth Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 44847 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from any part of the Harry Potter universe.

Chapter List
- 1-Ch 1
- 2-Ch 2
- 3-Ch 3
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-Ch 7
- 8-Ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Ch 10
- 11-Ch 11
- 12-Ch 12
- 13-Ch 13
- 14-Ch 14
- 15-Ch 15 (just edited - no addition)
- 16-Ch 16
- 17-Ch 17
- 5
- 6
- 7
She woke on the hard metal floor of the cage,
disorientated.�

She had been dreaming about Harry.� He was calling her name.�

�The events of the
last night (at least.. she assumed it was last night)
rolled back through her mind with terrible clarity.

Malfoy had cursed her. �Pain... horrible unbearable pain... and then Voldemort
had fucked her again with some kind of spell that made the pain feel arousing.�

She�d...she�d called him her Lord.��

God.� She�d betrayed everyone.� It was one thing to give up and let the Dark
Lord sleep with her since he was more than willing to torture people for a thought he disliked... but it was
something else to use that phrase.

Hell... she�d called him master at
some point, hadn�t she?!��

She moved experimentally and was relieved to discover it didn�t
hurt at all.� The potion was obviously
more effective if it wasn�t diluted.� She
wondered absently whether he�d let her dilute it because he intended to use the
spell on her...or perhaps because he found it useful to have her pain as leverage
to force her to say his name.�

He�d moved her effectively from avoiding any version of address for him to
referring to him as his bloody death eaters did.�

She sat up gingerly and noted that she was wearing a white
dress.� She�d never been dressed in white
before.�� It was a soft satin thing that
reached her mid thighs.� A simple cut, almost reminiscent of lingerie; with a sweetheart
neckline and a high waist, flaring out at the bottom.� �

She tugged it down ineffectually.� It was
cold.� It seemed she had been dressed in
matching satin panties today.� That was
something at least.� Usually the elves didn�t
bother with underwear.�

Looking around the empty room she wondered what had woken
her.� There had been something. A noise...
or...� she wasn�t sure.��

An area of space shimmered suddenly next to the cage, the background behind it
wavering as if in a heat haze.�

She jerked back as if stung, crawling frantically to the other side of the
cage.�

Someone was here!�

That spell was very distinctive.� Someone was disillusioned and standing there
watching her and they had just moved slightly.��

�Shhhhh� a disembodied voice
cautioned her.��

�Who are you?!� she whispered at it, her mind racing through
the possibilities.� She refused to
consider any of the ones she wanted most.

It wasn�t Harry.� Harry wouldn�t be
disillusioned for a start � he had an invisibility cloak that was far more
effective and if he was here, he�d be
looking for Voldemort and not her.�

She felt a silencing spell settle over her and then the door
clicked softly.� The blurry heat haze in
the air moved, pulling it open as she started to panic.� Whoever it was hadn�t identified themselves
and they didn�t want her alerting anyone she was here � they obviously didn�t
trust her to remain silent if she knew who they were.� This wasn�t good.��

The shimmer moved to the open door and she felt some kind of
invisible bonds latch on around her wrists and begin tugging her toward the
opening.� Screaming wasn�t going to help
but she struggled all the way as she was pulled out of the cage with distressing
inevitability.��

The tall figure backed off as she reached the door and
continued to pull her, fighting, away from the cage, till she was clear of it
by a couple of metres.�

It started to approach her then and she backed off rapidly.� She didn�t know who this was. It could be a
death eater!� She couldn�t really see who
it could be but a death eater. �

Where was Voldemort, she demanded internally. He said he would
protect her. He said-...��

The figure moved more quickly and grabbed her around the
arm, dragging her back.� She fought,
scratching at the invisible hand and collected a slap across the face for it. �Cut
it out� a familiar voice growled.�

Gasping silently in shock she realised who her assailant (rescuer?) was.�

Unexpectedly then, the tall figure swore under its breath and shimmered into
view.�

Professor Snape�s expression was that of a man carrying a
shipment of narcotics who had just been pulled over by the police.� �Good evening, My Lord� he muttered.�

She jolted and looked around in surprise.� The Dark Lord was lounging on his throne as
if he had been there for some time.� She
wondered whether he had.� He might have
been under a notice me not or something, she supposed.�

�I must say..I am..
disappointed.. Severus.� I had hoped my suspicions were
unfounded.�� Do not further insult me
with fabricated excuses.� On your knees,
if you wish to continue breathing.��

Hermione looked up at the black eyes feeling torn.� He had probably been trying to rescue
her.� If she hadn�t fought, would she be
in Order headquarters by now?�

Now professor Snape was in deep
trouble.� He would probably be killed, no
matter what Voldemort seemed to imply regarding his cooperation.�

His eyes showed that he knew it too. �

He hesitated for a half second and then dragged her, off balance, against him,
spinning and placing his wand to her neck.�

Fuck.�

That wasn�t what she had expected.�

She gulped.� Professor Snape wouldn�t ..actually..
harm her.. surely?�

Lord Voldemort was on his feet and his face was like
thunder, the red eyes almost glowing with rage.�

�Lower.. the
wards..� professor Snape demanded in a low threatening voice.�

Voldemort�s eyes flicked between Snape�s and her own face.� �You imagine that threatening the life of a
Mudblood will save you?�� He hissed
icily, gliding closer.�

Professor Snape moved his wand a bare inch and Hermione felt
a sharp cold sensation slice the skin of her neck, followed by a warm liquid
spill in a trail downward.�

Voldemort�s hiss sounded like the parseltongue equivalent of
swearing.� �

�Yes...� professor Snape responded with a faint smug tone in
his voice.� �It appears that you do not
wish the life of a...muggleborn...threatened.�
Release us or we both die.��

Hermione frowned.� She
realised suddenly that there was a part of her that didn�t actually want to be
rescued � didn�t want to go back to the order, to her supposed friends.�

There was a part of her that wanted to stay here with the interesting
psychopath who had offered to teach her dark magic and had forced her to feel
pleasure beyond anything she had ever experienced before.�

That small part of her was considering whether she might be able to drive her
fist back into professor Snape�s balls and get away.�

She watched as a slow pleased smirk spread over the Dark
Lord�s serpentine face even as he raised his pale twisted yew wand at them
both.�

�Then you both die� he pronounced softly.�

That was sufficient motivation.� Her fist moved almost of its own accord and
the choked whimper that the large man behind her emitted as she twisted out of
his grip was testament to how little he had expected her to strike out at
him.�

She practically flew to Voldemort and was immediately enfolded in the arm that did
not hold a wand on Professor Snape.� �Good
girl� he commended her softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.�

She glanced over her shoulder at the appalled incredulous
expression on the potion master�s face.� Revulsion
was plainly visible.� She turned her face
back to the Dark Lord feeling wretchedly guilty and sick at her own
actions.� His eyes glinted warningly at
her and then he looked back toward professor Snape.�

�As you see, Severus � she will neither leave nor die.� She is mine.� You
however wi-��

Professor Snape interrupted him �Hermione Granger would
never willingly join you.� She is neither
foolish nor corrupt enough to succumb to your lures.� Do not give up, Miss Granger.� Potter will
come.� The Dark Lord will be defeated.�� I ...regret...that
I waited so long to try to remove you from this place.��

She didn�t turn, couldn�t face him after what she�d
done.� He�d...see it...in her eyes if she looked at him now.� �

�I see that I am no longer your Lord, Severus... if indeed I ever was.� Lord Voldemort said
coldly.�

�It matters not. You shall give up all your secrets in time...��

There was a sound of scrabbling and then professor Snape
cried out in frustrated despair.� Voldemort
lifted his hand briefly from her back and when he replaced it, she could feel
it was holding professor Snape�s wand.�
He pulled her closer and stroked down her back absently with the
wand.�

She looked up to his face and saw the smug triumphant expression as he was
about to speak transform suddenly into a dismayed, furious one, even as there
was a thump behind her.�

�NO!!� he cried angrily, releasing her and dashing to the
side of the man now collapsed on the floor twitching.� �No!�
You shan�t escape me that easily� he muttered absently, casting spell
after spell upon the obviously dying man.�

Hermione padded over tentatively and knelt down beside professor Snape�s
side.� He was a potions master and a
double agent... of course he�d have some kind of suicide pill or something for
the event that things went pear shaped.�
He knew too much to risk it all being discovered by Voldemort.�

She felt a sudden burning pain of admiration for the dour potions master, who
had taken all the pain and struggle in his stride... had even taken his own
death as a matter of course.��

Voldemort was cursing and seemed to be growing exasperated,
as the spasms and shaking of the potions master�s body slowly began to
subside.�

�No!!� DAMN HIM!!�� He cried and spun, stalking away,
fuming.��

She wondered whether this was her fault.�
If she hadn�t freed herself from him and gone to Voldemort, would the
Dark Lord really have killed
them?� Might he have let them both
go?�

Had she condemned professor Snape to death by her actions?�

�Silence� Voldemort hissed, although she hadn�t spoken
aloud.� ��

He stood, looking extremely nonplussed, his gaze upon the
body that had been professor Snape.

She tried to not think.�
It was more difficult than ever.�
She�d never understood that whole �clear your mind� rubbish that her
meditation teacher had blathered on about.�
In the end she�d decided that people who practiced meditation and yoga
were the muggle world�s equivalent of professor Trelawney.�

There was a tiny snort from the serpentine figure who was tapping his wand
against his thigh irritatedly.� Finally he seemed to half sigh.�

�What is done is done� he pronounced softly.� �A foolish waste in the end.� I would have preferred not to kill Severus.�
He was so very useful. He
would have been useful again in the future...in time. Still... it cannot be
helped now.� It is easier to train a new
potions master than to attempt to reclaim this one now.�

She frowned, slightly bemused.� She tended to think of Lord Voldemort as
anything but stupid. Professor Snape was a double agent.� He was working against him.�

This was a man who killed people who sneezed at the wrong moment and he would
have spared a traitor?.�

�Come here� the high strange voice commanded softly.�

She complied with less hesitation than she would ever have
imagined possible.�

She was drawn closer with the pale left hand that held professor Snape's long
black wand.�

�Take it� Voldemort instructed, holding the wand to
her.�

Her eyes bugged and slid up to the red slitted orbs that
were not looking at her.� The Dark Lord
was offering her a wand.� The next
conclusions ambled up in her mind unhesitatingly.� He was confident she wouldn�t use it against
him.� ...He knew that even with a wand...
even if it happened to obey her � which it probably wouldn�t - she would stand no chance if she chose to try to attack
him.�

..He considered her intelligent enough to realise that and thus offered her the
wand easily.�

She reached out and gingerly took it.�

It didn�t spray sparks of joy at her hand and in fact it
felt heavy and dull, like an ordinary stick.�

�Cast lumos� the high airy voice commanded.�

She tried.� The wand did comply to a very minor extent.� It produced a faint twinkle of blue at the
very tip which petered out after a second.�
She found herself inexplicably proud that she�d produced any magic with professor Snape�s
wand.��

Voldemort pulled a discontented face. �Another
waste then. Your wands share the same core. �Severus� wand was well suited to dark curses. It
would have been a desirable match...

�...no matter.��

He snatched the wand back and slipped it into the pocket of his robes, where it
did not even cause the silky material to bulge.�

Then he turned to her and offered a white slender hand, his head slightly
tilted.�

She looked at it with a hollow little feeling.�

Taking Voldemort�s hand was no more than she�d done already ten times
over.� It just felt...different...
now.� Now that professor Snape was lying
on the floor dead � possibly due to her.�

She stepped closer and placed her small hand in the larger
one � the hand that was infinitely more graceful than her own.� Voldemort smiled approvingly, although she
thought there was a faint calculating twist to it. �

He gestured absently at the potion master�s body with his other hand and it
vanished. �

A moment later he had apparated them into his room once again.�

�I was working before Severus decided to� ...drop in.�
As I had reached a rather promising stage in my calculations, I will
continue with that now.��

She assured herself that she was relieved that he wasn�t going to sleep with her now and caught the
way his smirk widened slightly.�

�Perhaps later.�
For the moment I wish you to continue reading in the Montmorrei text.� I will perhaps discuss it with you when my
own progress allows a pause.�� He
summoned the dark runic text and passed it to her, turning away immediately and
gliding to the paper strewn desk and seating himself.�

She stood, surprised, the book heavy in her hands.� It was a strange feeling to be allowed to be here
while Lord Voldemort worked on...something...anything.� To be simply invited into his presence to
read by herself.�

She wondered what he was doing.� It
seemed quite complex, to judge by the texts and papers around him.� Perhaps something where he had to cross
reference or translate?� She wished she had enough courage to creep
over and look.�

�No.� Go and sit down
and read your book.� This material is too
advanced for you.� Do not distract me or
you�ll go back into your cage for the evening.��

She jolted and turned away immediately, clutching the book
to her chest and moving to the bed.� She
found the end of the chapter she had been up to when he had stopped her last
time, stating that it was late and time for her to return to the cage.�

He�d been a bit...cool... that night... after she�d upset him, or at least she
thought she might have upset him.� But
still, she thought he had been pleased when she had shown that she understood
the runic text.�� She began to read,
prodding her brain into action to decipher the ancient language she hadn�t had
to work in much for the last year.

Voldemort continued working even as she finished the
text.� She didn�t want to bother
him.�

He looked avidly absorbed and somehow distant, as if his mind were far
away.�

It was a look she seldom saw on him in the great hall.�

Somehow it gave the impression that his mind was some kind of vast machine with
infinitely intricate cogs and springs that was whirring at breakneck speed.

�It was...well... ok... it was just a
little bit appealing.� She hadn�t had the
opportunity to be around many truly gifted witches or wizards as they worked on
their own private research.�

�Inspiration seemed to
strike him and he bent forward again, writing furiously, the long black quill
in his pale fingers almost a blur with the need to pin the thoughts down before
they escaped.�

Again, she wondered what kind of thing would fascinate Voldemort to that
extent.�

Was it something to do with beating Harry and the order?��

As if she had spoken aloud his brow
quirked in irritation and he waved a hand at the bookshelves, another book
floating out and over toward her.�
It was bound in black tatty leather and looked well read.� She caught it gently and opened it.�

Although he had not spoken, or even turned, it was obvious what his comment
would have been.� �Read that and stop
being a distraction.�� She complied
willingly.�

The book was a compendium of dark hexes.� Last year she probably wouldn�t have even
been willing to touch it.� Almost all of
the curses within were horrible.� She
even found the vomiting sewing needles one. Horrible or not she read it and
made a valiant effort to learn.��

She was finished with the second book and lying on her back
staring up at the ceiling, thinking over what she�d read and trying not to be
�distracting� when he stirred.� The way
he sat back with a slightly troubled look on the pale flat face suggested he
had reached some kind of impasse. �

He folded one arm around himself, balancing the other upon it and stroking what
would have been the bridge of his nose with the feather tip of the long quill
absently.�

It was...peculiar... she thought.� She could imagine it must be some kind of
habit he picked up from his youth.�

His eyes were distant as if he were looking through reality at whatever problem
it was he was working upon.�

The blood red eyes blinked in frustration.�

Yes... definitely some kind of problem had cropped up in what he was working
on.� The curiosity was almost painful. �She was always the one other people came to
when they were stuck on something.� She
always figured out a solution, even if it wasn�t always conventional.�

Voldemort seemed to snort slightly, his face
tightening.� She continued to watch him,
the expressions passing over his face like storm clouds.� Finally he tossed down the quill in irritation
and rose, turning and stalking over to the bed swiftly, his movements betraying
the internal agitation he was apparently feeling.�

She gasped as her clothing was abruptly vanished and then he
practically fell upon her like a thing possessed.� The hard warm body pressed her down and he
gripped and raised one of her legs before he impaled her in one rough motion,
without warning or foreplay.�

It made her yelp, but not because it had hurt
exactly.�

No... It seemed she was already quite wet.�
Strangely enough.� She hadn�t even noticed.�

She certainly hadn�t been feeling aroused.�

He fucked her hot and hard, as if working off his own frustration on her,
driving her to a swift dizzying orgasm.�
He spilled himself with a low growl only moments after she had shattered
in climax.�

There was no affectionate kissing or embracing tonight.
After he had emptied himself, he withdrew immediately, scourgifying them both
and getting up, pacing away with a dark expression in his crimson gaze.�

He stopped by his desk and ran a hand over the back of the
rather regal chair he employed.� Then shaking
his head slightly he turned back.�

�I am confident that you have comprehended the Montmorrei
runic work.� You grasped the first half
adequately.� You will show me what you
have retained from Scabbors compendium I think.��

She frowned, confused.�
�He gestured absently and a silky
sheath materialised, enfolding his body in a new flowing robe.�� Turning he opened and entered the same store
room she had seen him go into the last time she was in this room.� When he returned he was holding something
very familiar.� Something that made her
heart beat rapidly in longing.�

�You have a rather insipid wand, you know� he observed
coldly.��

It was all she could do to remain where she was and not leap
up and grab for it.�

Was he really going to let her have
it back?! �Or was this just a cruel
tease.� She wanted it back so badly.� It had been months since she had had access to her magic.� The hunger for it was desperate.�

He read it clearly on her too.� �Come.� He said quietly.�

She was on her feet and standing before him in half a second, nakedness not
even rating a mention on her internal system of priorities.�

He tilted his head slightly and appeared to be considering her form.� When he clothed her magically it was not in
the silky white sheath she had worn before, but in a soft black lambs wool robe... not entirely unlike his own in form,
albeit much simpler.� It reached down to
her feet and she revelled in the warmth it offered in the cold...wherever this
place was...castle?� manor?�

He stepped closer and reached around her.� She thought for a moment he was going to
embrace her but then he raised his arms and lifted a generous hood up over her
head.� It fell deep, throwing her face
into shadow.

�Prove that you are worthy of your wand, Hermione.� Show me what you have learned.� Disappoint
me and you will never see it again.��

While she was digesting this command slash threat he raised
a hand and gripped her upper arm apparating at once.�

The apparition spat them out in a dark room.� Completely dark, not just shadowy and sombre
like the Dark Lord�s rooms.� She felt a
tingle of fear race up her spine briefly and then a torch lit, sputtering into
life with a blue and yellow flame.��

The room it exposed was almost better off unlit.�

This was obviously somewhere in the dungeons of the Dark
Lord�s domain.�

A selection of pitifully emaciated and beaten figures huddled near the walls,
shaking.� Several had started to sob,
seeing who had descended into their midst.�

The Dark Lord was scrutinising them all as if inspecting beef.�

She knew exactly what he was expecting her to do to �earn�
her wand now but she wasn�t sure whether she could do it. �She didn�t need
her wand.� It was...wrong to do this.
These people were probably just innocent victims.

�You� he selected, pointing at a man in torn rags.�

He was perhaps in his late thirties and had a scraggly
yellow mess of facial hair.� He reminded Hermione
of a castaway on an island.� All wild eyes and desperation.�

At the Dark Lord�s pronouncement he burst into messy snotty tears and started
begging unintelligibly. He was silenced and a moment later his eyes glazed over
before he stood up robotically and faced them both.�

The tall serpentine man controlling him turned to her then,
his eyes dark and bloody in the flickering light.

��Show me the spells..
Show me what you have learned.� Refuse
and I shall snap your wand.��

She swallowed in visceral aversion at the idea of her wand
being snapped.� It was horrible.� The worst thing you could do.� Worse than breaking her
bones.��

She looked back at the man standing zombie-like at attention.� He seemed as content as could be, as if he
weren�t about to be cursed seven ways from Sunday.�

The Dark Lord offered her her
wand.� It was a caramel brown streak on
his snow white palm.� She took it
carefully and the warm rush of energy that shot up her arm thrilled her.�

It was happy to see her too.�

The Dark Lord had stepped away but she could feel the weight of his eyes examining
her, judging her...almost grading her.� She stood in the centre of the room and tried
to force her stomach to stop revolving at the thought of cursing some unknown
man with the most horrible curses she knew.�

Shaking, she raised her wand... �
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