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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Hello, sorry for the delay, here is the next chapter for you! You ordered extra large, right?

Thousand and again thousand of thanks for everyone who took their time reviewing the last chapter. I also want to thank Serpent In Red and Nerys for betaing this chapter!

Chapter 7

Avoiding Marcus became tougher than she had anticipated. The very next day, he came knocking, but she pretended that she wasn’t home. The day after that, she decided to actually be out if he came knocking. Besides, it was about time for her to reconnect with London and show Althea the city. Hermione made sure they ate out as well, and when they came home, just in time for Althea to go to sleep, there was an owl waiting for Hermione. She was relieved to see that it was not from Marcus, demanding a meeting. Instead, the letter was from Ginny who wanted her to spend the weekend at her and Harry’s flat. Harry would be away on some Auror mission, and Ginny had decided to invite some girls over.

Hermione agreed to come and spent a pleasant Saturday with Ginny, Angelina and Luna. When Hermione told them that she would be taking Transfiguration at Oxford, Luna told her that she also went there.

“Alas, I don’t have Transfiguration,” Luna said with a sigh when they were all sitting together in Ginny’s small living room in their pyjamas, drinking wine. It was already past ten, and Althea was sleeping in the room next door. “But everyone knows Professor Foster. He is pretty.”

Even if Luna was still a bit … eccentric and studied experimental magic at the Charm’s department, she surprised Hermione with how observant she had become.

“That’s that hot Professor who lives next to you, Hermione?” Ginny asked, thrilled. “He is more than pretty. He is fucking delicious. If I weren’t about to get married ...” She fingered her engagement ring and sighed exaggeratedly.

Though, Hermione was sure she wouldn’t give up Harry for anything.

“That’s unfair,” Angelina giggled. “I have no idea whom you are talking about! What kind of deliciousness?”

“Firm arse,” Ginny said after a moment’s thought. “And that great hair will always look sexy no matter what you do with it.”

“He is supposed to be cleverer than most of the Professors as well,” Luna added, her voice still having that dreamy lilt it had always had, “even Professor Hilding says so.”

Hilding, Hermione learned, was Luna’s favourite teacher and apparently worth to quote just as often as Luna’s father’s newspaper. Then, she noticed that Ginny and Angelina were watching her expectantly.

“Er, yeah, he is good-looking,” she said weakly and mentally cursed as she felt the blush creeping up over her cheeks.

Ginny tilted her head and gave Hermione a wicked smile. “Oh, have you and Mr ‘Good-Looking’ Neighbour happened to run into each other some more over these past few weeks?”

Hermione continued to curse her embarrassment when she felt the blush increase. She had to come up with something. Something innocent. “Well, actually we did … quite literally. I had bought some food and was carrying too much, and I stumbled over the last step of the stairs just as he came, and he caught me. He smells really nice …” she trailed off, leaving the rest to their imagination.

Thankfully, that seemed to sate the others. Ginny giggled, and Angelina whistled softly. Luna just smiled and seemed to drift away into her own thoughts. Thankfully, the conversation moved to just sexy people in general after that. Although, Hermione could probably have lived a long, happy life without ever knowing that Harry was ticklish on the inside of his thighs or that Luna liked to put a collar on her girlfriend.

The next day was a beautiful Sunday, and Hermione decided to follow Ginny out shopping. Althea was asleep when she Apparated them home at nine in the evening. Therefore, Althea didn’t let out the usual screams, for which Hermione was thankful. She didn’t want Marcus knowing they were—

“Hermione.”

Damn.

She spun around and saw him sitting on her couch, arms crossed. Her eyes narrowed in anger for his trespassing. Even though she knew it was cowardly of her to hide from him, that didn’t make it right for him to just break into her flat. Although, she admitted that it wasn’t completely strange he had resorted to this. Nevertheless, she would not let him think that she was okay with this. But first, she needed to put Althea to bed. She didn’t want her daughter hearing another argument between them. She nodded to the sleeping Althea with her head, showing Marcus what she intended to do before walking into the bedroom. After placing Althea in her bed, she placed a spell over the room so Althea wouldn’t be disturbed. Then, Hermione faced him, letting her anger wash over her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she growled.

“You were never home, so I decided to stay here until you were,” he replied grimly, “because we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t,” she replied harshly. “If it weren’t for the fact that we slept together four years ago, what resulted into a child, you would never have noticed me more than you notice any of your other students. And that is how it should be. What we did two weeks ago was a mistake. We can’t do that; you will be my teacher for crying out loud!”

His eyes narrowed, but his voice was calm. “But we did do that. Now we have to deal with it. I thought you were mature enough to recognise that.”

She wanted to continue to yell at him but realised that would only make her seem more immature, and it annoyed her.

“Fine,” she muttered and sat down on the armchair opposite from him.

He uncrossed his arms and let his hands sink down on his lap. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Because what we did hurt my daughter. I won’t let that happen again, and if we don’t see each other, that won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I don’t think it’s entirely our fault at all. Yes, there was a magical outbreak during our intercourse. When you were off in orgasm-land, I put out two small fires. But they were nothing like the one around Althea’s bed. And it doesn’t make sense that the fire managed to get that big just because of a lamp exploding.”

“Then what…?”

“Althea. Somehow she must have connected to the fire, and the more scared she got, the bigger the fire grew. We have to work out a plan to teach her how to control her magic.”

She took a couple of deep breaths to control her anger so she wouldn’t do anything she would regret later. But it was hard. Not only was he saying that Althea was the one to blame for the fire, he also hinted that she couldn’t teach her daughter by herself. Nevertheless, she was an adult and she would be able to look at this rationally.

“I’m glad you came to me with your concerns, and I’ll look into it as soon as I can,” she replied sternly, just barely managing to control her fury.

“For crying out loud, Hermione,” he growled angrily and leaned forward. “She is my daughter, too.”

She looked at him with an uncomfortable feeling in her gut. He seemed earnest in his claim over Althea, and alas, he was right. Althea was his daughter, too. She didn’t want to deny Althea her father, and she had no right keeping her from Marcus. If Marcus did decide to come out in public as her father, he could go to court and demand to have her. That would also crush her career at Oxford more than his. She took a deep breath. Anger and hiding would not solve this. It was best to look at it from another angle.

“She is your daughter. I never claimed she wasn’t. But I’m not your girlfriend, and I don’t want to have a secret relationship with a teacher.”

“Ah, so there’s where the Niffler is hiding,” he remarked and leaned back again, the anger in his eyes fading. “You didn’t like having sex.”

“No. Yes. I mean, I didn’t want to have sex! I hadn’t planned and—”

He sighed and pinched the area between his eyes. “Good sex isn’t planned, Hermione. I hadn’t planned for it to happen either. You asked and … I showed. I didn’t plan to have sex with you until I was already inside of you.”

She swallowed, feeling the same stirring of lust she had the last time they began talking about sex. But she would not give into it again. She had no idea why her body got so turned on by him when her mind didn’t, but she wouldn’t let her body rule over her like that again.

“We aren’t in love.”

He huffed. “Love is overrated.”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “But we aren’t really anything. We don’t know each other that well, and if it weren’t for the strange reaction every time we touch, we would never have…”

“No, probably not,” he answered her when she silenced. “But at the risk of sounding like a broken record, we can’t change what has happened. We do have some sort of connection, and if you would have had sex with anyone else, you would know that what we did wasn’t just sex. It was amazing sex.”

“So that’s just what you want then?” she asked bitterly. “To have sex with me from time to time?”

“You don’t have to jump to conclusions, Hermione. I’m very capable of telling you what I want if you’d just ask,” he growled. “No, I don’t just want to have sex with you from time to time; I want to get to know the mother of my child.”

That made her feel a little guilty as if she had treated him unjustly. Why had she avoided him like that? Just because she didn’t like the way he had introduced her to sex again? It wasn’t like she had stopped him or wanted him to stop. And she didn’t have the right to keep Althea from her father. However, there was still that uncertain feeling she had got after they had had sex.

“I just don’t know how this is supposed to work,” she replied carefully after a while.

“Neither do I. But I believe we covered that the last time we met,” he remarked, calming down again. “However, I am able to keep my hands to myself. Our relationship can be casual and not intimate.”

She sighed in relief. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about her body betraying her again.

“Good.”

He gave her a nod, and then, they sat in silence for a few moments until he rose.

“Then I think it’s time to bid you good night. Why don’t you and Althea come over for dinner tomorrow afternoon? With her there, you won’t have to be afraid of me … jumping you.”

She scowled at him. “I’m not afraid.” Then, her face relaxed. “But sure, we’ll be over at … five?”

“Excellent. Good night.”

He Apparated away, and Hermione realised he had found a way to break through her Apparition ward that was supposed to keep everyone but her out. Insufferable man. Now she would have to look up even stronger ones.

xxx

At precisely five o’clock the next day, there was a knock on Voldemort’s door. He opened it and welcomed Hermione and Althea inside. Althea seemed happier to see him than Hermione did. The mother seemed tense. He decided to pretend like nothing was amiss.

“Please, come in. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes’ time. What would you like to drink?”

“Water is fine. For both of us,” Hermione said, almost looking like she was challenging him to say that Althea could have something else.

“Do you want some lemon in it or ice?” Voldemort just asked.

“Lemon sounds good,” Hermione answered and followed him into the room.

The construction of his flat was the same as Hermione’s, but he had coloured it differently. The tapestry was brown with silver print, and the furniture was all in earthly tones of green and brown. He, too, had his seating area and bookshelves in the east corner as Hermione had. However, he had a bigger kitchen table that he used as his work desk. It was usually filled with all kinds of books, scrolls and paper, but he had dumped them all in his bedroom for the night.

Althea was looking around curiously but didn’t let go of Hermione’s hand.

“Why do grown-ups have so many books all the time? They are no fun playing with,” the girl stated in Parseltongue.

“They are our kind of toys, dear,” he answered in Parseltongue and went to pour up the water for her and her mother.

“Boring,” Althea stated.

Voldemort chuckled. “Tell you what, if you eat up all your dinner, I can conjure something up for you to play with.”

“With magic?”

He nodded.

“Okay!” Althea said happily and went up to the kitchen table, eager to get the dinner over with so she could see some magic.

Hermione had watched them quietly throughout the conversation. When Althea left her to sit at the dinner table, Hermione looked at Voldemort.

“What did you talk about?” she wondered.

“She commented on the lack of fun toys, and I promised to conjure some up for her if she ate her dinner,” Voldemort summarised.

Hermione didn’t seem perfectly pleased with it.

“I don’t usually bribe my … Althea to get her to eat up everything.”

At least it was progress that she wasn’t calling Althea only her daughter anymore.

“I wouldn’t call it bribing,” Voldemort said, explaining his position. “More a promise that this night won’t be dull for her.”

It didn’t seem like Hermione could argue with that. Instead, she took a seat next to her daughter.

“So, what’s for dinner? It smells lovely.”

It seemed like she did have some manners. “An Indian chicken stew and rice noodles.”

Hermione seemed surprised but just nodded. He fixed the last thing of the dinner, and five minutes later, they were all sitting down. He watched as Hermione poured up a modest portion to Althea.

“Just so it will cool faster,” Hermione explained when she saw that he was looking.

“Of course,” Voldemort answered politely.

The silence between them was tense as they poured up their own portions. Voldemort could think of a number of conversation topics, but he wanted Hermione to open up first. If he appeared to be uncertain and a little shy, she would hopefully warm up to him. She didn’t seem to appreciate being swept off her feet. Well, at least not afterwards.

“Oh, this is delicious,” Hermione remarked in amazement after swallowing the first mouthful.

“You sound surprised,” he remarked.

A small blush crept up her throat. “No, the dinner you made the other week was wonderful as well. I just …”

He smiled. “Thank you. I enjoy cooking.”

She took another mouthful before helping Althea slice up more of the chicken. The girl seemed more interested in the long, sticky noodles.

“Eat with your mouth closed, honey,” Hermione admonished mildly to her daughter before turning back to Marcus.

“Well, you do seem to be awfully good at cooking,” she complimented. “I try, but I never seem to get a hold of it even though I follow the recipe to the letter.”

“Well, maybe that is your mistake. The recipes are more guidelines. There is so much more to it than that. You shouldn’t be afraid to experiment.”

Hermione grimaced. “When it comes to food, I’m just not good at experimenting. I don’t know why, but it was the same with Potions at school.”

He chewed and swallowed before answering. “Oh? I thought you were an excellent student?”

She shrugged. “I got the highest mark on my N.E.W.T., but that was because I remembered and followed the recipe to the letter. My first teacher in the subject, Professor Snape, had talents in Potions that I could never hope to achieve. He knew how to experiment, made up countless new potions and improved countless more.”

Voldemort could agree to that. He had always been able to count on Severus to brew Potions like no other. Too bad he had turned out to be a spy. Voldemort still didn’t like to think about it.

“Strangely enough, that is the first good thing I’ve heard about Professor Snape from one of his former students.”

“Oh, he was horrid in the classroom,” Hermione said with a grimace. “He was snarky and petty and despised everyone from Gryffindor. But nonetheless, he was an excellent brewer and turned out to be a great help in the fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters.”

“Is that so?” Voldemort asked, fighting down the fury rising in his chest.

“Oh, yes.” Hermione was interrupted into saying anything more by Althea who wanted more to eat. She poured up some more for her daughter and helped her slice the chicken before turning her attention back to him. “How much do you know about the war?”

“A fair deal,” he admitted truthfully before starting to lie again. “I never fought for either side since I was at the other side of the world when the war broke loose again. I hardly had any friends in Britain, and I’m afraid I’ve never been much of a nationalist, so I didn’t see the point of taking a side.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” he added when he saw Hermione frowning. “I would never have joined the Death Eaters if I had been asked. I grew up around Muggles, and my father was one. I don’t think that just because I’m a half-blood, I’m better than everyone else. However, the Ministry has never been of any help to me. They were most reluctant to let my father teach me since he was a Muggle—no matter how much knowledge he had about our world. It was only when he managed to find a tutor that they allowed it. But when I took the N.E.W.T.s, they gave me a lower grade than I deserved, just because I was home-schooled. I had to go to Japan to be allowed into a Wizarding University. Unlike Britain, they choose their students by how talented they are when they apply, not by what grades they got in school.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Yes, the former regime left a lot to be desired. How are the universities in Japan?”

He explained what he knew from his time there and added a lot of made-up details to make the story more believable. He was interrupted once by Althea who wanted her magical toys. So, he conjured up colourful blobs which she could shape into any form she wished. He also made it shift from colour to colour, and Althea was soon too involved in her made-up game to notice them. Once or twice, he heard her mutter something in Parseltongue which sounded a lot like orders for what her toys were supposed to do. It made him smile.

“… and Harry was completely clueless about it!” Hermione said, laughing.

Voldemort chuckled as well, more pleased over the fact that she had no clue whatsoever that she had now given him more knowledge about his former nemesis than he had ever known before, simply by what she had just said about Potter and Ginny Weasley’s relationship. It had taken him the whole meal to lead the conversation into the subject of Wonder Boy. After what Hermione had just told him, he was even more certain that Potter really was unworthy of his attention. The boy was just that: a boy. A mediocre wizard with more luck than common sense.

The only thing that had even made him aware of the boy was the prophesy Snape had told him about. However, now he was starting to think that the prophesy was just something Snape had made up. Not only had Snape been a traitor, but he had in some way managed to keep Lord Voldemort in the dark about it for a very long time. It wasn’t unlikely that Snape had wanted to get James and Harry Potter out of the way only to get Lily Evans back. Snape had, after all, asked Voldemort to spare her. It made him completely furious to think that Snape had managed to fool him so much. If he could, he would bring Snape back from the death, just so he could kill him again. But it was over. Snape was dead, and Voldemort would not buy his lies anymore by thinking Potter could ever be a threat to him.

While he was sending dark thoughts to the dead Potions Master, Althea came up to her mother. “Mum, ssscheep?”

Hermione stroked her daughter’s hair. “Are you tired, honey?”

Althea nodded.

“Yes, I think it’s time for us to take our leave.” She stood and looked at Voldemort with a somewhat shy smile. “Thank you for dinner. It has been lovely.”

He stood as well. “I’m glad you came. I really do think we could be friends.”

She smiled, and her eyes did look honest when she said: “I hope so. Perhaps we could have dinner again soon?”

“That sounds lovely. Why don’t you come over on Wednesday night, same time?” He led her and Althea back to the door.

“Sounds good,” Hermione agreed and stopped at the door.

Voldemort hesitated. They hadn’t touched at all tonight. Even if he’d wanted to, he didn’t want to scare her again. Not yet. Thankfully, Althea gave him an excuse to kneel down. She wanted a hug, and he gave her one, even though he wasn’t sure he liked it. Showing affection had never been one of his favourite pastimes. But he knew what was expected from him as a father, and thus, he hugged his daughter goodbye before simply smiling at Hermione as they left.

For the duration of August, Voldemort spent more time with Hermione and Althea than he had ever done with anyone else before. Getting into Hermione’s knickers again had become a pet project of his, but he took his time. Even though he dreamt about experiencing that kind of power again, he knew Hermione was very reluctant to do it. He didn’t really understand why but was patient and waited for the right time. She would fall for him in due time.

In the meantime, he helped her teach Althea how to talk. Three weeks after they had decided to try to be “friends”, Voldemort suggested they should take Althea out to a public place to let her listen to other people speaking English amongst themselves. Since it was a tremendously hot summer day, Hermione suggested they Apparated to the beach. Voldemort agreed since he had quite fond memories of the times he had gone to the beach in his childhood. It also meant he would get to see Hermione in less clothes than she usually wore, which was a huge bonus.

With a little magic, Voldemort managed to get them a couple of sun chairs. A lot of people seemed to spend the last week of August together with their family at the beach. And here he was, spending it with his.

He didn’t know exactly when he’d started to consider Althea his daughter, but it might have been around the same time he’d realised Althea was a great way to get to Hermione. Anyway, he found Althea much more tolerable than any other child he’d ever had the displeasure to meet.

“Do you want to take a dip in the ocean?” Voldemort asked, keeping his eyes on Althea who was building a sandcastle by the waterline.

“I’m not too fond of it,” Hermione confessed. “Only if I get hot enough.”

He smirked and looked at her, sitting there in just her bathing suit and a big sunhat. She looked perfectly fuckable in that tiny green garment, which was the only thing that had made him agree to come here to this Muggle-infested place. That, and the fact that he actually liked swimming in the ocean.

“You do look hot already,” he remarked.

Just a couple of weeks ago, she would probably have got uncomfortable by his remark, but now, she seemed to have got used to his flirting. He’d always known that a great way to get into a woman’s knickers was through complimenting them.

She did, however, blush. “Well, not hot enough.”

“If you say so,” he purred and looked back to his daughter.

He frowned when he saw that her sandcastle had taken a shape that it wouldn’t have been able to take unless she had used magic.

Hermione seemed to notice it as well because she called out to her. “Althea! Can you come here for a moment?”

The obedient girl came over. Hermione took her hand and said in a low voice. “You do know you can’t use magic out in public, Althea?”

“Didn’t!” Althea lied.

Voldemort didn’t have to be an expert in Legilimency to see that. Althea started to blink very quickly when she lied.

Hermione sighed. “Just don’t do it again, love. You know magic is a secret.”

“’Key Mum,” Althea grumbled and walked back to her castle, continuing to build but seemingly without magic. She still had a problem speaking long sentences in English, but she was happy to use all the words she could.

“We should teach her better control,” Voldemort remarked. “Perhaps even give her a wand?”

Hermione looked at him. “She isn’t allowed to have one.”

“Says the Ministry,” Voldemort replied, brushing some sand from his black swimming trunks.

“And for a good reason. Wands are very dangerous, Marcus,” Hermione lectured him.

Voldemort, seeing that her mind was set, decided not to push it. He would manage to change her mind in time. “Fine. I just want her to be able to control her magic.”

“We can teach her in other ways.”

“Of course,” he said.

They sat in silence for a while, watching Althea play in the sand.

“Did you have time to read the book on magical myths I lent you?” he asked after a while.

He had been surprised to realise how many things they had in common. One of them was that they both enjoyed reading up on different theories in magic and magical phenomena. They could spend many hours arguing about whether something had merit or not. They had quite different views about many aspects of various subjects, and that usually led to very interesting discussions. Voldemort always knew he was right, of course, but seeing her get all flushed and watching her eyes lit up during a dispute made him hard. He fantasised about doing all sorts of naughty things to her in those moments.

“Yes, I did. Most of them seem completely bogus, though,” Hermione said. “Especially that one about how Merlin’s secrets are hidden in a cave under London! I would like to see that since the whole underground of London is being used by either Muggles or wizards. It would have to be pretty deep down then.”

Voldemort chuckled, not bothering to tell her that Merlin’s cave was in fact hidden under London. It would only make her question him on how he knew that. “Yes, I did find that rather remarkable as well. However, I did feel the myth of the dragon that could survive in space was interesting.”“You can’t be serious,” Hermione remarked.

“Oh, quite,” he promised, and thus, the argument started.

A while later, Althea came up to them and wanted them to get into the water with her. Voldemort volunteered. He and Althea had been down in the water for fifteen minutes when Hermione joined them.

“Mum! Look!” Althea said happily as she walked around in the shallow water, moving her arms and pretending like she were swimming.

“That’s very good, Althea,” Hermione praised her as she carefully walked into the cold water.

Voldemort laughed. “Come on, Hermione, surely you aren’t afraid of a little water?”

She scowled at him and resolutely marched up to where he was sitting in the water before she sat down as well. He could see the goosebumps on her skin, and her nipples were standing hard against the fabric of her bathing suit. He forced himself not to become erect by it.

“Mum swum?” Althea asked demandingly. “Marcus, swum.”

“Swim, Althea,” Voldemort corrected her.

“Swim,” Althea agreed and looked expectantly at Hermione since it seemed clear to her that Marcus wasn’t going to listen to her commands.

Hermione sighed and moved farther in the water, swimming a couple of yards before returning back to them.

“There,” she said to Althea before moving to them.

However, a small fish had made its way close to them, and Hermione managed to step on it, which caused her to give a small shriek and grab a hold of Voldemort. Quickly, she jumped on his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Voldemort laughed. Not so much because he was truly amused but more to show Althea, who looked scared, that there was no danger. Althea, then, began to laugh as well.

“Did the little fish scare you, Hermione?” Voldemort teased, not minding at all, having the young woman on his lap. His hands were on her waist, holding her up, and it sent wave after wave of pleasure through his body.

She scowled at him, but the flush on her chest and face told him she wasn’t unaffected by the pleasure between them.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled and stroked her back. “I’ll always be here to save you from scary fishies … and other things.”

“That’s good to hear,” she answered in a low voice, her lips almost touching his.

Salazar, he wanted her. He wanted to feel the pleasure and power of being inside her again. He needed it.

Before he could stop himself, he claimed her lips in a heated kiss. She did answer it but only for a short moment, then she broke the kiss and exhaled.

“We shouldn’t …” she mumbled, looking down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursing that he needed to play the gentleman if he wanted to have her more than once.

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she moved off him and to Althea, who was watching them in confusion. However, when Hermione started to play with her, she seemed to forget that her mother and “her Marcus”, as she called him, had ever done anything inappropriate.

That night, he started with an old hobby of his. His ever-present need for control sometimes sent him out on hunts. The sexual frustration from being denied by Hermione made his craving for control even stronger. He Disapparated.

The hunting was something he hadn’t done since he was younger. Being a Dark Lord had fulfilled his need for control nicely, and he had managed quite well with only being a teacher in power over the fate of students for the past four years. But now he needed the control that came from holding another human’s life in the palm of his hand.

He continued with the hunting every night for the rest of the summer. Always in a new country and in Muggle places. He was very careful not to fall into a pattern, making sure to choose different disguises, different sorts of torture and always different sorts of people. It didn’t matter who it was—all that mattered was that he was in control. The only rule he had was never to touch his victims. He showed his superiority to them by always using magic. Some of them, he let go after taking out his frustration on them, but most victims, he killed.

In September, it became a daily routine. During the day, he was either with Hermione and Althea or he was preparing for the coming semester. During the night, he hunted.

However, he started noticing a change in Hermione; she became more distant. The kiss and the fact that they were coming closer to the beginning of the semester seemed to make her, once again, bothered by the fact that he would be her teacher. It didn’t help that he assured her that he would not treat her any differently in class. After saying it for the billionth time without reassuring her, he decided that he would just have to wait until classes started to show her.

There was only a week left until the semester began when he was on his way to her flat for dinner. He mentally cursed when he saw one of his colleagues walk up the stairs. There were only a few other Professors who had returned to the house, and only one of them lived on his storey, three doors away from his flat. Since he didn’t want to be spotted walking into a student’s flat, he just nodded at the colleague, continued to pass Hermione’s door and went down the stairs slowly. When he heard the shutting of a door, he quickly and silently turned around and walked up the stairs again. After making sure no one was in sight, he opened the door to Hermione’s flat and entered.

To his great surprise, he found Hermione reading a wedding magazine with Althea on the couch.

“Dreaming about the future, Hermione?” he asked with an arched eyebrow and fell down on the couch next to her.

She snorted. “Not in the least. Ginny and I were shopping in Muggle London a couple of weeks ago, and now she thinks she wants a Muggle-inspired wedding dress. I promised to pick up some magazines for her. But Althea thought they were pretty, so we are looking at the pictures together.”

“Pretty!” Althea concurred.

Hermione smiled at her before she turned back to Voldemort who was looking down in the magazine. “Are they to your liking as well?”

He chuckled. “Can’t say I have anything against pretty women in pretty dresses. You would look fantastic in them.”

As usual when he complimented her these days, she blushed and changed the subject. “What have you been doing since last night?”

The true answer was murdering an old man in China, but he wasn’t going to say that for obvious reasons. So, he lied. “Just planning my lectures.”

“Oh.”

He could feel her tense. She did not want to know anything before her classmates, which she had told him, repeatedly. He pretended not to notice her tension.

“How about you? Besides picking up magazines?”

She relaxed again. “Not much. The weather was horrible, so after we had been to the store, we went home. I answered a letter from my parents.”

“Oh, how are they?”

“Good. They were thrilled to hear that Althea had begun to talk so much and wanted to know more about that.”

They talked a bit more and then started to prepare dinner together. They did it routinely nowadays. Voldemort did most of the cooking, and Hermione set the table, did the salad and picked out what they would drink. He noted that she didn’t consume a lot of alcohol, almost only during the weekends if she had company. When he asked about it, she just gave him a faint smile and said: “Bad experiences.”

He didn’t mind. He wasn’t a heavy drinker by far. Even though he could have a glass or two at dinner and had a very high tolerance level for alcohol, he wanted to be able to stay in control of the situation. Alcohol had a tendency to make you less in control, and he couldn’t understand why anyone would like that.

This day, which was a Thursday, they only drank water with the spicy turkey and rice. When they were done, he put Althea to bed as Hermione cleaned up the kitchen.

“Are you Mum’s boyfriend?” Althea asked in Parseltongue as he lifted her into the bed.

“Boyfriend?” he replied, surprised she even knew the concept of ‘boyfriend’. “No, why would you think that?”

“Everyone at the Burrow has boyfriends. Gin said Mum should get a boyfriend. Why can’t you be Mum’s boyfriend?”

Gin must mean Ginevra Weasley, he figured.

“Because your mother doesn’t want to have me as her boyfriend,” he explained honestly, while he wrapped the covers around her.

“Does Mum want to have someone else as her boyfriend?” Althea asked, looking rather worried.

Voldemort huffed. “I hope not. Then I would have to terminate him.”

“Good,” Althea replied and yawned.

Voldemort chuckled. He had noticed some time ago that she was a rather selfish young lady who always wanted to have things her way.

“Does anyone at the Burrow act like they want to be your mother’s boyfriend?” he wondered.

Althea shook her head. “When you are a boyfriend, you kiss. No one there kisses Mum.”

Ah, so that was why she thought he was Hermione’s boyfriend. “Good. Tell me if anyone does, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed her forehead and rose.

“Marcus?” Althea asked, looking up at him again.

“Yes, dear?”

“If you would be Mum’s boyfriend, would you be my dad then?”

Voldemort hesitated. Hermione and he had never talked about when they would tell Althea that he was her father. He just assumed they would tell her sometime, eventually, when she was old enough to understand their situation and keep it a secret. Right now, he wasn’t sure he could trust her not to call him “Dad” in a public place. Although, now that she asked, he felt very reluctant to lie.

“Hermione?” he called.

She came into the room, frowning in question.

“She just asked if I could be her dad,” he said in a low voice.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Why?”

He didn’t want Hermione to know about the whole boyfriend discussion, so he just shrugged. After all, children asked strange things all the time.

Hermione nibbled her lower lip and looked down at Althea. It seemed like she wasn’t keen to lie either. She sank down on Althea’s bed and took her small hand.

“Althea, honey … can you keep a secret?”

Althea’s eyes widened in delight and she sat up in the bed. “Yes!”

“It’s important that you don’t tell anyone about this,” Hermione continued slowly. “Not anyone at the Burrow or anyone else.”

Althea nodded seriously, but Voldemort could clearly see her excitement. However, he highly doubted Althea would actually be able to keep the secret. Children could not be trusted. He would know. He had questioned many in his days. Perhaps a small spell that would make her ... reluctant to tell the truth to anyone? Hm, he would have to think of something that Hermione wouldn’t notice.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Well, it’s like this that … Marcus is already your father, and he will always be.”

Althea looked up at him. “Even if you are not Mum’s boyfriend?”

He sank down on his knees next to the bed and stroked her cheek. “Precisely. You know how everyone always has a mother and father, right?”

Althea nodded.

“Well, I’m your father. I didn’t know I was until I met you a couple of months ago, but I’ll always be your father. No matter how much time your mother and I spend together.”

Althea nodded slowly, and he hoped she grasped it.

“But it’s a secret. Your mother and I will be in trouble if anyone finds out we have a child together. So it’s important you never call me ‘Dad’ when anyone else can hear. Do you understand?”

Althea frowned. “Like Romeo and Juliet?”

He really liked what books Hermione chose as bedtime stories for their daughter. “Exactly. A lot of people will get very mean if they find out now.”

She nodded seriously. “Okay.”

He ruffled her hair. “Good girl.”

Althea looked up at her mother with a smile and pressed her tiny hand to her mouth demonstratively. “Won’t tell.”

Hermione smiled in relief. “That’s good, love.”

Althea yawned again. After a few minutes of pampering, Voldemort followed Hermione out of the room and closed the door behind them. They sank down in the couch, and he was surprised when she leaned her head against his shoulder and let out a sigh of relief.

“That went much easier than I had thought. What did you talk about?” she asked.

“I told her that we would be in trouble if anyone else found out I was her father so she couldn’t call me that in public. She asked if it would be like Romeo and Juliet, and I told her yes.”

Hermione snorted. “She has always liked that story. Well, I’m glad we told her. She deserves to know who her father is.”

“She does.”

He leaned his cheek against her head, enjoying the soft texture of her hair. Their arms and hands were touching, and he wondered if he should try to grasp her hand. He could feel the pleasuring sensation that always came from touching her, and he wanted more.

Unfortunately, before he had time to try, she withdrew and moved to the side so she could watch him instead.

“Sorry, I just am so tired,” she mumbled.

He sighed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Hermione, you are allowed to touch me. I’m not the only Professor who comforts a student with a hug from time to time.”

She looked down. “You know it wouldn’t be just a comforting hug.”

Getting annoyed, he twisted in the couch so he was facing her as well. “No one else knows.”

“But I know.”

He scowled. “We have been through this, Hermione. I won’t give you special treatment. Not even if you asked or bribed me with the best blowjob, would I do that.”

She blushed, but her face was scowling as well when she looked up. “Perhaps not intentionally, but …”

“No. I wouldn’t. I don’t even look at the names when I’m grading my students’ papers.” That was a lie, but he knew Professors who did that because they wanted to be ‘fair’. Like that mattered. “And if you say something incorrect in my class, I will point it out, just as I would do with anyone else.”

She didn’t answer but looked down again, causing that nagging feeling that being her teacher wasn’t her only issue with their relationship to rise. However, he couldn’t pinpoint what she was thinking if she kept avoiding his gaze. So, until he could figure out what it was, he would just have to break down her defences.

He sighed angrily. “I’m getting tired of having to defend my teaching abilities. I make it a point to separate my work from my private life.”

“But that isn’t the point!” she retorted and straightened on the couch, finally meeting his eyes.

He frowned and looked at her closely, trying to see what she was thinking. She was worried and angry, and yet …

“If I weren’t your teacher, would you want to have a relationship?” he asked slowly.

She groaned and closed her eyes for a moment. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “You are my teacher and wishing otherwise is just that: wishing.”

“But I won’t always be your teacher, and wishing is not pointless,” he remarked softly.

“A lot can change in a couple of years,” she replied.

He became annoyed. “True, so just stop the ‘good girl’ act. I am well aware you know some laws can be broken. You did that quite often with your friends at Hogwarts, or so you have said.”

“That was different; that was for the greater good.”

“And you don’t consider what we could do together good?”

He was getting to her, he could feel it. Manipulating people was always his strong side, and he finally found something effective to manipulate her with.

“We won’t be hurting anyone else.”

“But what if it doesn’t work out? You’ll be in a position of power over me and …”

“Stop doubting my ability to separate work from private life!” he growled. “You know very well that if I start to grade you unfairly, you can complain to Cox-Trotter. She will investigate, and since I don’t want to lose my job, I won’t be able to tell her that we had a relationship. She will give me a warning and maybe have your work transferred to some other Transfiguration Professor for grading. You know this, Hermione. Just tell me what you are scared of.”

He reached out and took her hand gently and started to massage it. She shuddered but didn’t withdraw right away. Was this what she feared? Yes, he could see worry in her eyes as well as guilt. Why did she feel guilty over the pleasure?

“I–I need to use the bathroom,” she suddenly stuttered, pulling her hand away and fleeing to the bathroom.

Voldemort grimaced as the door slammed shut, and he leaned back in the couch. The only sound he could hear was the rain clattering against the window. It wasn’t only the touching thing that bothered her; that much was clear. She was only coming up with excuses. It bothered him that he didn’t understand what was scaring her. Was it the sex? Or maybe him?

No, he hadn’t done anything to unsettle her. Well, except fucking her across the kitchen table. But they had agreed to start over since then. So, that couldn’t be it.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, he rose from the couch and went to knock at the bathroom door. “Hermione? Are you okay?”

No sound was heard.

“For all I know, you have passed out in there, and it would be irresponsible of me not to open the door and check.”

The door unlocked. He opened it and found her standing in front of him, looking down at the floor. Again. He was getting nowhere if she acted like this.

“I just don’t know if I want this,” Hermione said quietly. “I have never been in a relationship. I don’t know how it should be.”

He reached out and grabbed her chin, tilting it upwards. Their eyes met.

“Neither do I. Have you never wondered why I haven’t settled down by now? I’m fifteen years older than you and have no idea what to expect from a relationship. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. But I want you.”

It was scary that all that, except the age difference, was true. He was in fact over fifty years her senior, but everyone thought he was in his late thirties and he preferred to keep that illusion intact.

She was about to look away again, but he stepped in closer to her. “Don’t.”

She looked at him again.

“We both know I can’t promise you everything will be like a fairytale. In fact, there will be a lot of sneaking around and lying … but I don’t care. You make me happy.”

For some reason, that made her look really guilty. She took a step away from him, breaking their touch.

“Well … that is just the thing then. I’m not sure you make me feel the same thing.”

His hand fell down. “What?”

She flinched at his hard voice. “If it weren’t for the touching, I’m not sure I would even consider being with you. Don’t get me wrong. You are very nice and good-looking and all that, and I think you can be a good father for Althea but …” She shrugged. “I don’t know what sort of man I would want to be with, but … there are just so many things about you that I don’t feel comfortable with. I’m sorry.”

Voldemort just stared at her. He was sure he had said everything right. He’d declared his “love” without really saying the word because that was never good early on in a relationship. He’d been needy without being pathetic. He had treated her with respect, given her space when she needed it, listened to her problems, done everything a bloke was supposed to, and yet, he could see that she was being perfectly honest. If it weren’t for their special touch, she wouldn’t have wanted him at all. Only as a friend. The only reason she hadn’t told him this sooner was because she didn’t want to hurt him. Because she considered him a friend.

He was not pleased.

xxx

Hermione watched worriedly as Marcus’s expression changed from surprise to confusion to anger. No, not anger, fury. She took another step backwards. She hadn’t really wanted to tell him the truth about her feelings, or lack thereof. Everything she had said was true, and it surprised her greatly that she could feel such an intense pleasure from touching someone she didn’t really find exciting otherwise.

Over the past weeks, they got to know each other better. She thought she had got him figured out. He was a good friend. He could be very funny and charming, but there was just something that made her reluctant to be more with him. However, she had noticed that he wanted her, and that made her feel guilty for not feeling the same thing. She didn’t want him to think that she was leading him on.

She couldn’t put her finger on what it was that he was lacking. Maybe it was the constant control of his emotions. He just wasn’t passionate. He would say great things but never show them. There was also something about him that felt … fake. It was almost like he wanted to say more but didn’t because he was being a gentleman. Even when they were having their academic discussions, she would sometimes provoke him by saying something she knew he disagreed with, and he would just fold. He probably did that because he didn’t want her to be angry, and that was just very unattractive. She didn’t want someone who was afraid of making her upset. She wanted someone who stood his ground.

However, now she became surprised by being able to see all these emotions play over his face. She was about to take another step backwards, but he grabbed her wrist.

“Nothing?” he hissed. “You feel nothing for me?”

“I–I think you are nice,” she stuttered.

“NICE?”

“Shh, Althea…”

He whipped out his wand and placed a silencing spell over the bedroom. Then he aimed the wand at Hermione. She was too shocked to respond at once.

“Nice?” he asked again in a lower tone.

“Marcus, what are you …?” Was he joking or had he gone through a personality change? Hermione had no idea.

He pulled her out of the bathroom and threw her into the armchair.

“I. Am. Not. Nice.”

Then, he pressed her against the back of the armchair, straddled her and kissed her hard.

For a moment, Hermione didn’t know how she was supposed to take it. Before she had time to find a rational reaction, her body responded for her. She kissed him back. All the things she had just said didn’t matter. He tasted wonderful, unlike anyone she had ever kissed before. This was the passion she wanted. He touched her and didn’t hold back, his hands massaging her shoulders and arms, stroking her breasts through her shirt. He knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to show her. For the first time, she felt like he was completely honest. It scared her, and she realised why he had been holding back. It was too much.

Before he had time to rip her shirt off, she pushed him off her. He fell down on the floor, just barely missing the coffee table. He stared at her with burning eyes; his lips were bright red from the hard kiss; and he was breathing heavily.

“Seems you aren’t such a nice boy as you pretend to be,” she remarked breathlessly.

“No, I’m not,” he growled and rose slowly. “I will have you again.”

“Not tonight.”

She was almost pleading. It was too much to take in at once. This new side of him both feared and excited her. She no longer knew what she wanted, and until she did, she wanted to be alone. At least she thought so.

“No.” His answer made her relax. “But soon.”

He stalked out of the room, and Hermione sat motionless in the armchair, her gaze fixated at the rain that was falling against the window.

What the hell just happened?

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