Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 6
- 7
- 8
New chapter! Yay! This will contain some dark/depressing/disturbing scenes… Just so you know.

Some review answers;

Kitty: Your questions will be answered in this chapter!

Heidi191976: Haha, you’ll find out what Voldemort thinks about it in this chapter, unfortunately, I haven’t written about Lucius’ reaction… But you’ll see Narcissa’s in a later chapter! Thanks for reviewing!

JaceDamian23: Hehe, I’m glad you enjoyed the chapter! Yes, Hermione will be in some trouble, you I don’t think you’ll see much about what happens to Draco, sorry!

Sjauthor: Yes, Voldemort wants to hit her, but I think he wants to hit her himself! So I don’t know if he will be so happy someone else did it… He is quite egoistic!

n: I’m glad you like the story! It took me some time before I figured out what to do with the postcard… I’m pleased you liked the solution! Hope you like this chapter as well!

Chapter 7

Voldemort returned to the hotel around seven that evening. His good mood from the morning had disappeared. Things didn’t go as smoothly as he wished it would. The Finns were a very stubborn people. All he wanted to do was take control over the shipping on the Gulf of Finland. A lot of magical artefacts were traded there. He merely wanted to see all the artefacts and take those he wanted before any one else had the chance. One could stumble over some really powerful objects in this area.

However, the Finns hadn’t been interested. It looked like he was going to stay here for a while. All he wanted to do now was take the girl out for a nice meal and then read a good book before going to bed. He would have to get up early the next morning.

“Excuse me, Mr Smith.” He turned around when the receptionist called for him.

“Yes?” he asked and faked a smile. He had always been a very good actor.

“The police called. They want you to take you and your wife’s passports down to the station.”

“What?” he roared.

The receptionist flinched a little. Voldemort took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll go.”

Voldemort hurried up to their room to get the passports. Fifteen minutes later, he was down at the station. After another half an hour, he was allowed to get his wife out of the holding cell. He stared at her when the policeman opened the door. Her lip was swollen and red, she had a black eye and he could see bruises on her arms. He didn’t know if he should laugh or be angry.

He really wanted to curse someone, but since there were Muggles around and he didn’t want to be exposed as a wizard, he played the role of a caring husband.

“Oh, sweetie,” he said and hugged her. The girl just sighed. “Who did this to you?”

“He was so mean!” the girl said and faked a sob. He noticed that it was faked because she didn’t sound like she usually did when she was cried, but others would not notice. “I didn’t know what to do!”

“Let’s go home and get you cleaned up. Then we can get you something to eat.” Still hugging her, they left the building in each other’s embrace. When they were out of sight, he grabbed her as painfully as the Contract would allow, “What the hell do you think you were doing?” he hissed.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she hissed back and tried to get loose. “Malfoy was the one who started it! He insulted me!”

Voldemort sneered. “He is a pureblood, you are a Mudblood; of course he insults you! What did he say?”

“He thought I actually wanted to marry you because no one else would touch me!”

He smirked. “Well, he was right about the last part. No on else had touched you before I did.”

“You iniquitous bastard!” she spat and broke free. She hurried toward the hotel but he caught up with her, grabbed her, and lifted her off the ground.

“Let me go!” she yelled.

“Not until you have calmed down,” he hissed and shook her. “When we get back to the hotel, we will give the impression of happy newlyweds so stop struggling!”

She didn’t.

“I wish you to stop struggling,” he ordered.

She did.

“Good,” he put her down. “Now, I can’t heal you, because that would look suspicious. You won’t leave the room anymore. If someone asks, you’ll just tell them you are embarrassed of your injured face.”

“Oh! So just because your minion can’t keep his thoughts to himself, I’m grounded?”

“I’ll talk to Draco as well, but you were the one who started the fight. Why did you do that? You are a girl!” He didn’t really mean the last part. He knew girls could be aggressive. He had received his fair share of slaps and blows in his days. However, he didn’t really see his wife as the aggressive type.

“If I could, I would put a razor up your arse and pick your bloody eyes out!”

He shook his head, unimpressed. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

She stared at him. Then she growled, “You are…” She clenched her fits and growled again. Instead of finishing her thought, she turned around and began walking with long purposeful strides.

“I wish for you to calm down,” he called after her.

She stopped. He came up to her. She looked at him with foggy eyes. He sighed, took her hand and led her back to the hotel. He was still angry, but he would take it out on her another way. This time, he wanted her to really beg for his forgiveness.

xxx

They didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the week. Hermione stayed in the room and Voldemort would leave early every morning and come back late every night. A Death Eater would come by three times every day with food. If the people who worked at the hotel thought it was strange, they didn’t say anything. The housekeeper who cleaned the room every day would look at her with sympathetic eyes, never saying anything. Hermione guessed she didn’t speak English.

On the second day of confinement, Hermione was bored. Her face was still throbbing from her injuries, but not as much as it had done the day before. She started to do some physical exercises. Remus Lupin had taught her a lot of exercises she could do independently to keep fit. It was a mix of ordinary push-ups and sit-ups, Pilates, yoga and a variety of Asian fighting styles. She was annoyed that no one could teach her any new moves, but she practiced until her body ached. It was better than just looking out the window.

Voldemort hadn’t given her any books, so when she was too tired to work out, she watched TV. First she thought she would find only Finish programmes, but she quickly found shows and films in English. They always had Finish subtitles, but she was happy she could watch something she understood.

At the end of the week, she tried to break out from the room. Her face looked much better and she figured she could sneak out and then return without anyone noticing. Unfortunately, the door was warded. Every time she tried to open it, she would bounce back into the room again. It bugged her to no end.

It was the middle of their second week in Hamina, and their third week as a married couple, when something finally happened. Hermione had been watching a new action series about some super heroine (oh, why couldn’t she kick Voldemort’s arse like that super girl kicked all those bad guys’ arses?) when the door flew open.

“We are leaving,” Voldemort hissed and waved his wand to gather all their things in his backpack.

“Why?” she asked lazy, without taking her eyes from the screen. If he could ignore her, she could ignore him.

He went to the TV and pressed the “off” button. “Because I say so!”

Hermione turned to him. “Aren’t your plans working?”

He put the backpack on his back and gripped her arm.

“What’s the hurry, love?” she asked teasingly. “You look like you have Aurors at your back.”

“Shut up,” he hissed dragged her to the reception area. The man behind the desk looked at them in surprise.

“We want to check out,” Voldemort said.

The man nodded and a couple of minutes later, they were out on the street. Hermione frowned when she saw the empty streets. Where were all the people?

“Going somewhere?” a calm, familiar voice asked.

Hermione looked to her right and gasped. Remus Lupin was standing there with almost half the Order! They all had their wands aimed at them. Voldemort pulled out his wand. At the same time, Hermione broke free from him and ran toward Remus. The Order looked very surprised and she realised they didn’t recognise her because of the glamour.

“It’s me!” she said when she reached them. “Hermione!”

Remus face broke into a smile and he embraced her with his free arm. Hermione was so glad to see him again and glad to be away from Voldemort.

“Are you okay, Hermione?” he asked and gently touched her eye where the bruise was evident even through her glamour.

“I’m fine…,” she said and inhaled his calming scent. When her parents disappeared she and Remus had become very close. She saw him as an older brother. She always felt safe with him.

“Do you give up?” Kingsley Shackleblot said to Voldemort.

She turned around just in time to see over twenty Death Eaters Apparate next to Voldemort.

“No,” her husband said with a cocky smile. He was still wearing his glamour and the evil smile didn’t suit the blond, boyish face. “I could fight you, but I have more pressing matters to deal with. So if you could just give me back my wife?”

Remus tightened his arm around her. “Why should we?”

Voldemort rolled his eyes. “Trust me, wolf, if I could get rid of her I would have done it a long time ago.”

Hermione sighed against Remus’ robes. The air was full of tension. She knew there would be a fight if she didn’t return to Voldemort soon. If there was a fight, some of her friends would be injured. She didn’t want that. Perhaps if she left now, there wouldn’t be a fight.

“He’s right,” she whispered and gently released herself from Remus’ embrace. She kissed his cheek. “Tell Harry I’m okay.”

The Order watched, in shock, as Hermione walked back to Voldemort. She could feel a stab in her heart when she saw Voldemort’s satisfied smile. How she hated him. When she reached him, he embraced her like Remus had done, but not in Remus’ loving way. Voldemort embraced her possessively. His lips touched her forehead and she could feel him smirk against her skin. She closed her eyes and wished to crawl under a blanket and forget about the world.

Then she heard the first spell cast. She had been foolish to believe there wouldn’t be a fight. Voldemort shouted an order to his Death Eaters before he Apparated her away. Of course he wouldn’t stay for the fight. Why fight when you could have others do it for you? He really was the ultimate coward.

“I wonder,” he said softly and stroked her hair. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“To do with what?” she asked, still not opening her eyes. What if Remus or any of the others died? She should have fought with them!

“Letting the Order know where I was.” His voice was so fucking calm. How could he be so calm when people were dying out there, because of him?

“How could I have done that?” she muttered. “You had me locked inside our room all the time.”

“Well, there was that incident at the police station. You are a clever girl, I’m sure you could come up with something.”

She sighed. “Like what?” Her stomach was aching. She wanted to be in Remus’ warm, loving arms again. Voldemort’s physical body may be warm, but he was as far from loving as you could get.

“Oh, I don’t know… like sending a postcard to one of your Mudblood friends?”

Her eyes snapped opened and she stared at him. His eyes were fiery… burning in sadistic joy.

“Didn’t you think I would find out? When I heard that the Order found out where I was, I investigated. I went back to the police station and found out that you wanted to send a postcard to your ‘grandfather’.”

Hermione got a bad feeling. They were standing inside some kind of dungeon. Now, she noticed the stench of something... decaying. He turned her around and she came face to face with three disembodied and decaying heads. Two of which were very familiar.

“No,” she whispered. Her mind was trying to ignore what she was seeing. This couldn’t be happing. Not because of her! Not again!

He held his arms around her. “I may not have been able to take over Hamina, but at least I got to rid the earth clean of a Mudblood family.”

The dead eyes of the Creevey family stared at her. They still looked like they were in pain. Hermione screamed.

xxx

Perhaps he overdid it.

He hadn’t been surprised when his wife fainted. Even Death Eaters fainted sometimes. It was just something in their heads that overloaded and they couldn’t look anymore. He thought it was a weakness, but not everyone could be as strong as him.

Therefore, he just lifted the girl into his arms and carried her to their new bedroom. When they were in Hamina, he had ordered one of his minions to decorate a larger room for them. This room had more colours (green and silver, he had been nostalgic when he picked them out), a comfortable lounge area with a sofa and two armchairs, a lot of bookshelves with his treasured books, a desk and, of course, a bed. The bed was at one end of the room while the rest of the furniture was at the other end.

He placed her on the bed and left. It wasn’t like she could leave the well-warded room. Besides, he had to see what he could save of the Hamina-plan.

He realised something was wrong when, tired and annoyed, he returned the next morning and found her lying in the exact same spot he had left her hours earlier. Her eyes were open but she was completely unresponsive to him.

A quick examination confirmed what his fears; she was in a deep shock. Her mind couldn’t deal with the guilt and horror she felt, so it had shut down. He cursed, but let her be. Hopefully, she would come around.

Some hours later the headaches began. Every time he wasn’t actively trying to help the girl get better, his mind was attacked by migraines and he felt as if his mind would explode. Nothing else helped against the headache. He tried potions and spells, but the only relief he received was when he was actively helping the girl recover from her shock. It was the Contract’s curse. He was obligated to keep her healthy and he had failed. Now he was paying the price.

For the next two weeks he force-fed her, bathed her, helped her to the bathroom and forced her to exercise. It was quite simple. She was still obligated to do everything he wished, so he simply wished it. She did what he wished to keep her healthy but there was no life in her eyes, no fire fighting back. She was just a puppet and he was pulling her strings. Why didn’t he relish that?

No, he hated it. He hated her. He hated her for being weak and turning him into some kind of nanny. It had been a long time ago since he hated someone with such a passion. The thing he hated the most was that he could do nothing about it. If he left her alone, the headaches would start again. When he was with her, he had to stare into those empty eyes. It was like a Dementor attacked and stole her soul. No spell or potion he tried helped her either. It seemed to grow deeper than what magic could heal. He must really have broken her.

The nights were the worst. She had nightmares. She was screaming, sobbing and begging. He used silencing spell, but although that worked, she tossed and turned. His body was full of bruises, but he was determined not sleep on the couch. He was Lord fucking Voldemort! He would not leave his own bed!

After a couple of nights, he tied her so she couldn’t move. She fought the binds until her wrists and ankles were chafed and bloody. His actions hurt her and his headache returned. So, to get some relief, he untied her again.

When the second week arrived, he began to get desperate. He found himself wandering the streets of London, confused and angry. The continuing headaches made him more murderous than usual. The girl had been asleep when he left her. He had tried to wish her to stop tossing and turning as a result of her nightmares, but it seemed like she didn’t have to take orders from him when she was asleep. He needed relief from his headaches and thought it best to travel to London and kill some Muggles. That was what he usually did when he wanted a stress-relief. Some people made puzzles, others exercised, but he killed people. Besides, London was full of unnecessary Muggles.

It was the end of July and his fifth week as a married man. It was a hot night and he noticed a group of teenagers hanging out. He was standing in the shadows, watching a gang smoking, talking and laughing. He noticed a girl with the same hair colour as his wife and a similar build. She laughed at something one of the boys said. Voldemort felt his blood pump with rage. Just this morning, the girl had vomited all over him again. He wanted to smack her, but the Contract forbad him from doing it.

He was about to leave when he saw the brunette get up. She kissed and hugged her friends before she left them. She was swaying a bit. What had they been smoking? He followed her. This girl was a little taller than his wife, but she had the same petite body. In the dark, he could easily pretend her to be his wife. Excellent.

The brunette stopped in the middle of a street. She was looking for something in her purse. No one else was there. In three long strides, he was right upon her. Surprised, she dropped her purse and he dragged her into a nearby alley. He placed a silencing spell over the area so that no one but him would hear the girl scream.

And, oh, how she screamed. He first thought about allowing her to live, but he was out of control imaging her as his wife and he had harmed her so sufficiently that he thought it best to finish the job and kill her. After all, she had begged for death and he was only too happy to oblige. He could be nice when he wanted to. They would have a hard time identifying her body the next morning.

Although he still had his headache, he felt happy and relieved. Now he felt like he could face the girl again. When he returned to his room, the girl was still tossing, turning and sobbing. He stroked her face and she took hold of his hand and whimpered. He lay down next to her and embraced her. For the first night in two weeks, she actually relaxed and he was able to sleep for more than just two hours.

xxx

He thought his gentleness would snap her out of her shock, but it only made her cling to him every time he was near her. He hated it even more than he hated the tossing. She was acting like a little child. She still remained unresponsive in every other way but the clinging. Every time he was near she would lean toward him and hold onto him as if her life depended on it. He hated it and he began to get really desperate.

After consulting his books, he decided that she needed someone she trusted. He guessed she trusted Harry Potter, but Voldemort would be dead before he went to Potter for help. The only other person he knew that the girl trusted was Remus Lupin. Voldemort didn’t know much about the werewolf, other than hearing that he was one of the leaders of the Order. How could he convince the werewolf to help him?

He thought about it, and when his wife once again attempted to cuddle him like he was her very own teddy bear, he decided to just kidnap the damn wolf. He was too proud to ask any of his Death Eaters for help. Lord Voldemort didn’t have personal problems… especially not with his wife.

Thanks to the continuous clandestine activities of his Death Eaters, he knew where most of the members of the Order were currently located. Lupin was last seen in a small town in Scotland. Voldemort travelled there alone and on only the second night of searching for the wolf, he got lucky.

Remus Lupin had apparently been out to buy some food. It was just a couple of days after the full moon, and he looked tired. His clothes were dirty and baggy and it didn’t look like he had washed his hair for days. Voldemort followed him. The wolf walked slowly toward a small house at the end of the village. When there weren’t any Muggles around, Voldemort made to attack. Before he reached him, the werewolf turned around with his wand drawn. Voldemort silently cursed.

“What are you doing here?” Lupin asked, clearly very surprised.

“I am about to kidnap you,” Voldemort hissed.

“The Order already knows you are here,” Lupin said.

“I’m not planning to stay. You will come with me.”

“Why?” The wolf was watching him with a puzzled expression.

Voldemort knew how he must look. Desperate and tired. How he hated the girl for making him do this.

“Something has happened to my wife. She needs you. As long as you help her, I won’t hurt you.” It was a very generous offer, he was desperate after all.

“How can I trust you?” the wolf asked.

“You would be a fool if you did,” Voldemort said with a smirk.

Lupin was quiet for a while. “Give me an oath that you won’t hurt me.”

“Fine. I swear not to hurt Remus Lupin as long as my wife needs help,” Voldemort swore. There was a tingle of magic in the air. “Can we go?”

The werewolf nodded and Voldemort took his arm and Apparated them away. His headache felt much better.

xxx

Remus Lupin had several missions in his life. When he first was bitten by Greyback, his mission was to survive. When he was accepted into Hogwarts, his mission was to fit in. In some magical way he managed to make three extraordinary friends. At times, he even had girlfriends! Since then, his mission was to protect his friends.

That mission hadn’t gone too well. He had been devastated when Lily, James and Peter died. He had beaten himself up for not being able to do anything. For the next 13 years, he was a very unhappy werewolf.

Then Sirius came back and Remus found out that he still had one friend left. It had been wonderful to find out that he had been wrong about Sirius. He and Sirius lived together after that and Remus swore to protect his friend against… everything. When they heard that Voldemort returned, Remus became worried. Sirius wanted to avenge James and Lily, but Remus only wanted to keep the only remaining friend alive.

After Sirius died, Remus found himself alone… again. It was then that Hermione stepped into his life. He had known her from when he was her teacher, but he soon realized that he hadn’t really known her at all. After Sirius died, she found him crying in Sirius’ old bedroom. He had been very ashamed. He usually didn’t cry. They avoided each other at first. But then, one night, she came up to his room with a book she had found. She didn’t understand the runes and shyly asked for his help.

When Ron died, she came to him again. He comforted her as much as he could and when she declared that she wanted to learn how to fight, he had been more than happy to help her. They became very good friends.

Remus had been angry with Dumbledore for allowing her to marry Voldemort. But now it looked like he finally would be able to help her. Perhaps he was stupid to follow Voldemort, but he had to try.

They appeared inside a small office. Remus gave Voldemort all the weapons he had on his person. He was still very suspicious, but Voldemort gave him an oath to return them once Hermione was better.

Remus knew it would be easy for Voldemort to trick him. If Hermione already was well and couldn’t get any better, he would never have his wand back. However, he had to believe Voldemort. He couldn’t risk it. Even if he knew Voldemort was a consummate liar, the Dark Lord didn’t look well.

Voldemort led Remus to another room. The first thing Remus noticed was the sobs. They were coming from a large bed at one end of the room. Expecting the worse, he went towards them.

“She is asleep,” Voldemort muttered. “Nightmares.”

Remus sat down next to her. The blanket was bunched around her waist and her breasts were exposed. He didn’t care. They were friends. She let out a scream of sorrow. It was heartbreaking.

“Hermione?” he asked and took her hand into his. “It’s me, Remus.”

She slowly opened her eyes. They were wild. He suddenly remembered her DADA examination when he had been her teacher in her third year. She hadn’t been able to handle the Boggart. The others laughed when she told them how the Boggart-McGonagall told her that she had failed every subject. They didn’t understand. Remus did. Hermione’s greatest fear was failure. Whatever Voldemort had done, he must have trigged that fear and now she couldn’t cope with it.

He realised it would be a long time before he got his wand back again.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Contract