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The Contract	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 55312 -:- 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
- 8
- 9
- 10
G’day! Here is some review answers before the chapter!

Kitty; No, Hermione didn’t really try to kill him. She just got a little mad at him. I think you will get some answers in this chapter! Haha, yes… I think you can say that their relationship will change a bit… quite soon!

Lyra Aphrodite Moon; Thank you! I’m glad you like the story! Don’t worry, there won’t be so much torture in this fic… or, well, it will be, but I’ll make sure to warn you before that happen!

Heidi191976; Haha, I don’t know if Lucius would punish his own son for something like that… But he might ground him and take away his favourite toys (yes, I do see Draco as a small, childish boy).

Darkheartgirl; You’ll find out much more in this chapter! Hope you’ll like it!

Megan; This far, I have never published a story I haven’t been sure I will be able to finish. SO don’t worry, I’ll write a lot more chapters!

Thanks for reviewing everybody! I love reviews!

Chapter 9

At Tom Riddle’s orphanage, the children had been either bullies or victims. They didn’t get the chance to learn right and wrong before they got into school. In many cases, unfortunately, it was already too late. You could see this in the cruelness of their games.

Tom had been four years old when he was first introduced to a game called The Chair. He had only been curious to know what the older children did in the older boys’ dorm after dinner. A boy named Adam had said that he could play if he sat in The Chair. Tom was curious and excited to play with the older children and he promised he would.

The Chair was a simple game. One child was tied to the chair and the others attempted to push the chair as hard as they could without it tipping over. Tom had nightmares for weeks. He hated the feeling of helplessness. He had been tied to the chair and hadn’t been able to move his arms or legs. The falls had been unavoidable.

He vowed never to feel helpless again.

Tom Riddle, mostly known as Voldemort now, thought about this feeling as he walked to the bedroom that belonged to his faithful servant, Severus Snape. Severus had what he needed. His wife had almost burned him and he didn’t know why the Contract hadn’t stopped her. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t consciously meant to do it. After all, in Hamina he was able to harm her until he realised who she was. It was quite an interesting loophole. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t be married to someone capable of killing him. He had to do something and Severus Snape was the person to help him.

Her potential to kill him had crossed his mind even before they were forced into this marriage. She was, after all, responsible for the harming several of his Death Eaters the day he lost his body. Even though she hadn’t killed anyone, she was the reason they were captured and received the Dementor’s Kiss. So, since the moment he found out he was married to Hermione, he began thinking about ways to remove her magical abilities. It was better to be married to a Squib than to a Mudblood who could use magic against you. He researched and found a potion that blocked a person’s magic. The potion was very complicated, but Voldemort knew he could trust his Potions Master.

When he met her, he hadn’t thought that blocking her magic would be necessary. While she wasn’t weak, he didn’t imagine that she could harm him without her wand. Clearly, he had been mistaken. Now, she needed to be punished.

He reached Severus’ door and out of courtesy, knocked. A moment later, it opened.

“My Lord,” Severus said apparently shocked to see his master, and bowed.

“I need the potion,” Voldemort hissed. “The one that blocks magic.”

Severus frowned and let the Dark Lord into his room. Severus typically stayed at Hogwarts, but Voldemort also provided him with a room here as well. He was living in one of smaller rooms, but he had his own potions lab connected to his bedroom. The room was small and gloomy and only contained a bed and a shelf filled with potions.

“Is it really necessary?” Severus asked as he went over to the shelf and stared at the bottles, searching for one in particular. “The girl is harmless without her wand.”

“Don’t question my order, Snape!” Voldemort hissed. He didn’t have time for this.

“Forgive me, my Lord.” Severus retrieved a blue bottle and went back to his master. “Not to be bold, my Lord, but I would strongly advise you to have someone examine the girl before you give her this potion. If she has any Muggle disease, like cancer, her magic is the only thing maintaining her healthy and preventing any diseases from spreading.”

Voldemort fingered his wand in annoyance. If the girl had some mortal disease, blocking her magic would be like hurting her. He didn’t want to get that damnable headache again, even if it would be fun to see her die slowly and painfully. No, his headache would be horrible. He wouldn’t do it. “Are you able to examine her?”

“If you wish.”

“Good. Come with me then.” The two men walked in silence back to Voldemort’s room. He vaguely thought about the half-naked state he had left her in and then realized that it would be fun to see her embarrassed.

He opened the door and saw that she was dressed. Ah, well, perhaps another time.

“Professor!” The girl flew up from the armchair with wide eyes. “But…”

Voldemort smirked. “Surprised? Severus and I go way back.”

“We trusted you,” she whispered.

Voldemort saw Severus roll his eyes, and he did the same.

“I will only do a quick examination before the Dark Lord gives you the magic-blocking potion,” Severus said and took out his wand. “If you would please lie down on the couch?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed and she looked at Voldemort. “I don’t want the potion.”

Voldemort went to her. “You think I give a damn? Now, lie down on the couch,” he then leaned over her and whispered, “Or would you rather I tied you down?”

It took a moment before she understood what he was referring too, but when she did, she pressed her lips together and glared at him. Voldemort smirked as she obeyed and laid down. Severus acted like he didn’t see her grimace when he sat down on the table next to the couch. The girl didn’t look at him.

“Does anyone in your family have any known diseases?” Severus asked as he pointed his wand at her chest.

“One of my uncles had multiple sclerosis,” she said. “Both my father’s parents had cancer, one from smoking, the other one in her bones. My other grandmother had some skin problem. I think my paternal grandfather had a stroke as well, but he was already very ill by then.”

Severus nodded thoughtfully and Voldemort observed Severus testing her for the diseases she mentioned. It would take too long to search for all known diseases. They were all quiet until Severus was done.

“Well, I can’t see any signs for cancer, MS, or for any other life threatening diseases. It could come when you are older, of course…”

“Good,” Voldemort interrupted. “Give her the potion.”

Severus frowned. “Are you sure, my Lord? The potion hasn’t been tested, but it is very strong and it could interfere with the development of the child’s power.”

Voldemort arched his eyebrows. “What child?”

Severus eyes widened. “Hers of course,” he said and pointed at the girl. “She is already in her eighth week.”

Voldemort blinked. What?

xxx

Hermione stared at her former teacher. She had never had a problem understanding what a teacher was saying before, but this time, she just couldn’t comprehend. It was nonsense, really. She didn’t have a child. She thought she would notice if… if…

Her hand came down to her stomach. He had told her she was getting fat. But… it was his fault. She started to laugh. He thought she was gaining weight because of all of the candy she was eating, but in reality, it was all his fault! She was carrying Baby Voldemort! She doubled over and laughed until the tears ran. It was just too unbelievable.

And then another thought hit her and her laughter stopped. She was going to give birth to Voldemort’s child. The Dark Lord’s baby! Oh, Merlin… how disturbing.

She looked up and stared at her husband. “You,” she hissed.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. Hermione got up from the couch. Voldemort rose too. He looked ready to both fight and run away. If she could, she would hit him.

“You… haven’t you heard about contraceptives? They come in all forms! Potions, spells and even condoms!”

“Of course I have, Mrs Witty,” he hissed back. “I cast the spell on our wedding night! And then again that time in Hamina! Did you and Malfoy…?”

“MALFOY? ARE YOU INSANE? He would have to rape me if he wanted to touch me!” she screamed.

“WELL WHO IN THE HELL IS THE FATHER THEN?”

“I TOLD YOU I HAD NEVER BEEN WITH ANYONE BEFORE!” They were shouting so high they didn’t hear Snape trying to get their attention.

“MY LORD,” Snape finally said in a loud voice.

Voldemort and Hermione turned their heads toward him.

Voldemort took a deep breath. “Severus. You may leave. But I forbid you to share anything about the things you have heard and seen here. And I mean anything. I will know if you have disobeyed me.”

Hermione actually doubted that. She had been very surprised when Snape entered the room, but she quickly put on a show so that Voldemort wouldn’t get suspicious if she acted like she still respected Snape. It would just be weird if she acted nice toward a person who was supposed to have betrayed the Order and Hogwarts. Perhaps she could even help Snape with his spying. Snape left the room and she turned toward her husband again. He took a step closer, trying to intimidate her with his larger size.

“I wish for you to tell me the truth about your sex life,” he hissed and she could feel the tingle of magic. “Who, besides me, has put his cock inside you?”

“No one!” she spat. “I have only had sex three times! I have merely kissed other boys before!”

“Three times.” Voldemort’s eyes widened. “We have had sex three times…”

Hermione pressed her lips together. “Yes. And I have no wand, so you can’t blame me!”

“But I do, you silly little twit,” he spat. “If you hadn’t sauntered around half naked…”

“So, it’s my fault you fucked me?”

“YES!” he yelled and gripped her shoulder. “I told you not to provoke me and still you walk around half naked!”

“You think I planned this?” she asked with disbelief.

“Are you telling me you didn’t?” he roared. “I heard what that hairdresser said! You thought I would be nicer once you gave me a child!”

“How could I think something like that when you have proved time and time again that you don’t have a decent bone in you body?” she screamed and gripped the front of his robes and was almost tearing the material away.

He watched her silently. “I’m glad you have understood that. Then you will also understand that this… child won’t change a thing.”

Hermione looked straight into his glowing red eyes. “Believe me, I understand. But I also know that you are fooling yourself if you think this won’t change anything.”

His grip on her shoulders was almost painful. “You’re wrong!”

Hermione almost wanted to smile mockingly. She knew she was right. Not that she had a child before, but she knew people who had. All of them told her it was life changing, in one way or another.

Voldemort seemed to know what she was thinking. “You insolent little bitch,” he growled.

“You egoistical maggot,” she retorted and pushed him, causing him to take a step back.

He then pushed her… hard. She stumbled back and into the sofa. Before she fell down, she gripped his robes again and dragged him down with her. Some how, they missed the couch and fell down on the floor. She fell on top of him. He looked a bit surprise to suddenly find himself on the floor. She was even more surprised to feel his erection against her thigh.

“Do you actually get turned on by fighting?” she mumbled. Her blood was pumping fast as well, and she wasn’t sure if it was only because of her anger.

“Well, since I can’t rip the flesh off your bones…” His hand came up behind her head and he pressed his mouth against hers.

Their sex didn’t take long, but it was very intense. Their clothes disappeared and he was inside of her before she even realised how wet she was. For a moment, Hermione almost felt like she melted into his body. He allowed her to touch him this time, and when she climaxed, her nails left marks over his back. When he was done, he rolled off her and they both remained lying on the floor. Hermione didn’t mind, and she smiled to herself, sated.

Voldemort helped her to rise from the floor and, in unison, they both dropped onto the sofa, naked. When she tried to snuggle, he pushed her away. She sighed and let her head fall against the back of the sofa instead.

“I can’t believe it,” he finally said.

Hermione had almost dozed off. “What?”

He placed his hand on her stomach. “I thought you were just getting fat. Although, you did vomit a lot when…”

Hermione sighed and looked at his hand. It felt warm against her stomach. “I think I’ll be getting even fatter now.”

“Certainly. Circe, I don’t even like fat people.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because it’s clear they haven’t lived a healthy life.”

“And it what? Scares you?”

“No, I am appalled by it.”

“You are very prejudiced,” she said matter-of-factly.

“So you mean you love everybody?” he said with a snort.

“No, of course not. But if I judge someone, I try to judge them by their actions, not the way they look or who their parents are.”

“I don’t believe you,” he muttered and withdrew his hand from her stomach. “I’m not half as prejudiced as most of my Death Eaters.”

“In what way?”

“They would never dream of kissing someone like you.” He left her on the sofa and made his way toward the bathroom. He hesitated in the doorway. With a wave of his hand, a small pile of letters appeared on the table in front of her. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Hermione stared after him as he closed the door to the bathroom. She had noticed he was a lot calmer and nicer after sex, although… this reward was unexpected. Before he changed his mind, she took the four letters, all addressed to Hermione Riddle, and opened the first one. It was the result scores of her N.E.W.T.’s. She received an Outstanding in every subject! When she looked carefully at the scores, she realised she just barley managed to get the highest score in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She frowned. It bugged her a little. She knew she could fight the Dark Arts, so why did she get a lower scores in DADA compared to the other tests? Remus had once told her that she needed to understand the Dark Arts before she could fight it. Was that it? Did she need to learn more about Dark Arts?

The second letter was from Mrs Weasley. It was a very short letter where she wished Hermione well and hoped she would be able to join them for Christmas. Hermione allowed herself to dream about sitting at the Burrow again, drinking toddy and listing to carols. Voldemort would never allow that.

The third letter was from Gringotts. Since Hermione and Voldemort were to share everything, she now had access to his bank vault. The letter contained information about the contents of the vault, as well as her personal key. Her eyes widened when she saw how much money her husband owned. They could move into a castle and live in luxury for the rest of their lives without having to lift a finger. Well, maybe for the rest of her life. How did he get all this money?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

The final letter was an invitation from Narcissa Malfoy. It was a very formal note, inviting her and her husband to the Malfoy’s annual Halloween feast. Hermione frowned upon reading the letter, but she guessed it was some Death Eater thing. Voldemort would probably explain it later.

At the same moment, her husband exited the bathroom, fully dressed. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

She put the letters on the table again. “I waited for you to get ready. I didn’t think you liked company in the shower. Did you know I’m known as Hermione Riddle?”

He arched an eyebrow. “By whom?”

“The bank and by the school.” She held up the envelops. “They are all addressed to Hermione Riddle.”

“Well, that is what the wedding contract says your new name is,” he muttered.

“So you won’t get angry if people call me Mrs Riddle?” she asked.

He sighed. “If it means so much to you… fine, use the bloody name.”

“Thank you,” she said, a bit sarcastic. “If just feels nice to know that I have a name.”

He grunted and she went to the shower. When she washed herself, her hand stopped at her stomach. There was a slight bump, but she didn’t think anyone would guess she was pregnant. Baby Riddle… Merlin, even she couldn’t believe it. It just didn’t make any sense! She hadn’t really thought about babies. She imagined that perhaps sometime when she was thirty or so. She never imagined now and surely not with Lord Voldemort. They would probably be the worst parents ever.

xxx

A month went by without anything interesting happening. The first week, Hermione found herself getting depressed, but Voldemort quickly found the cure for that. Books. Since her revelation about the Cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff, she hadn’t found anything interesting. However, that didn’t stop her from searching.

In the second week, Voldemort took her jogging again. This time, they didn’t argue and he was quite pleased with her physical progress. Not that he would ever tell her that.

Hermione was also allowed to Floo to his library even when he wasn’t there. Even though they were technically living together, they didn’t see much of each other. Voldemort came by sometimes to take her out for a run or some other workout, but other than that, they just slept together. Some nights they didn’t even do that. Hermione liked the library so much she found herself waking up there some mornings. Other days, she would wake up and the only evidence of her husband’s existence would be his crumpled sheets. She found it very peaceful, but also quite lonely.

It was the middle of September before something interesting happened again. Hermione was now in the beginning of her fourth month and on the evening of the eighteenth of September, she found herself feeling slightly dizzy. Figuring she just needed some rest, she went to the bed and closed her eyes.

Minutes later, she could hear steps in the corridor. The door opened and she recognised the steady steps of her husband. He was muttering something to himself. Suddenly he stopped.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just resting,” she answered truthfully. “I was feeling a little dizzy.”

She could hear him come closer to the bed. A moment later, he sat down next to her. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was frowning.

“You do look a little pale.” His hand came up to her forehead. “Do you think you have a fever?”

“It’s probably just something related to the pregnancy. You know I’ll never forgive you for that, right?”

“So you keep saying,” he mumbled and swept his wand over her. “It doesn’t appear to be anything dangerous.” He got up from the bed.

“Wait,” she said. “Could you hug me?”

He stared at her as if she had grown a second head. “Hug you?” he said slowly.

“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly. “I want a hug.”

He continued staring at her. “Why do you think I care?”

His hand was just within reach, so she grabbed it and said, “Hug me or I shall destroy you.”

He chuckled. “You certainty know how to charm a wizard, gir… ouch! What did you do?”

Hermione smirked. “I read too much.” She sent away another electric pulse. It wasn’t much, only enough to make his hair curl. She found it in a book about Dark Arts and had wanted to try it on her husband ever since. It wasn’t difficult. She only directed a little of her magic into him and let it explode. She guessed she could kill him if she gave him too much magic, but unfortunately, the Contract wouldn’t allow her to kill him.

“How?” he asked and finally sank down on the bed and put his arms around her. “I thought you despised Dark Arts, and the Contract doesn’t allow us to hurt each other.”

“You are an exception. I would never use Dark Arts on someone else. And I’m not hurting you, per se, I am merely giving you a little of my magic.”

He snorted. “If you want to know more Dark Arts, just tell me. I wouldn’t mind teaching you.”

Hermione didn’t say anything. The truth was that her low score in Defence Against the Dark Arts bugged her a little. Harry said that she needed to understand the Dark Arts, and so she began to study it. Many of the spells and curses were just awful, but she couldn’t stand not knowing….

“How long am I supposed to hug you?” he asked after a couple of minutes.

“If I would get some human contact more often, I wouldn’t need so much now,” she muttered. Her head was still spinning, but not as much as it had before. “Perhaps if I could see my friends…”

He huffed and made an attempt to get up, but her grip on him tightened. He sighed. “If you do well at the Halloween party, we will talk about it. I am not above giving rewards.”

Now it was her time to huff. “You are acting like you own me.”

“But I do,” he purred. “You are my wife…”

“You do know we are living in the twentieth century, right?”

“Aha, and?”

“Men don’t own their wives anymore.”

“But I’m special.”

She huffed again in annoyance. “Tomorrow is my birthday and I want to celebrate it with my friends!”

“Ah, so that’s why you have received all those gifts. I started to think you had done something again…”

“What gifts?”

“You’ll see tomorrow,” he mumbled. His eyes were closed and Hermione wondered if he was about to fall asleep. He hadn’t been to bed tonight so she wasn’t surprised he was tired.

“Can’t you take me out tomorrow,” she asked.

“Hmm? You mean running?”

“No, just out. We could eat in a restaurant.”

“Don’t be silly, only real couples do things like that.”

“Aren’t we a real couple?”

He sighed and opened his eyes. “Let’s see, we hate each other and if we could, we would kill each other. We don’t like the same things and we don’t share the same morals.”

“But we are married and we are going to have a baby.”

“We are not a couple, girl. Couples like each other at the very least. We were forced together.”

Hermione sighed. “It’s just… I will go mad if I have to stay here all the time.”

“Oh no, then I just have to be nice and let you go and see your friends,” he said mockingly.

“You don’t have to be mean. It would just be nice to have someone to talk too,” she mumbled.

“Well, I’m here now. I can’t imagine whom you would rather speak too.”

“Well, as you said yourself, we hate each other.”

“So?”

“It would be nice to speak to someone who actually cared about what I said.”

“Then you will just have to make new friends at the Malfoy’s next month.”

Hermione was quiet for a while. “I don’t want to hug you anymore.”

“Finally!” He got up but stopped when he heard her sob. “Oh, what is it now?”

Hermione didn’t answer. She felt absolutely miserable crying and she blamed it on the hormones. If the loneliness didn’t drive her mad, the hormones would.

Voldemort pressed his lips together. “I am not going to be blackmailed by a little female crying. What do you think it will achieve?”

She still didn’t answer. Once she started to cry, she just couldn’t stop. She didn’t really know why she felt so pathetic, but she did.

“Circe, woman! Calm down!”

Hermione flew up from the bed. “I HATE YOU!” she screamed before she stormed into the bathroom. She knew she was acting childish and illogical, but she couldn’t help it. If he couldn’t comfort her, she wanted to be alone in her misery. She heard the door to the corridor slam shut. It took her some time to calm down. She filled the bathtub with steaming water and sank down in it.

“Lolly,” she said.

The small House-elf appeared with a small thump. “Lady called?”

“Yes, could you bring me some chocolate?”

The elf hesitated. “The Lord will not be happy.”

“Let me deal with the Lord,” Hermione muttered.

“Yes, Lady.” The elf bowed and disappeared with another thump. A moment later she was back with dark chocolate cake.

Hermione thanked her and the elf disappeared. Hermione let her mind wander as she sat in the bathtub, slowly eating the cake. She wondered what Harry was doing now. Had Remus returned safely? Would the war be over soon? Her husband never talked about it. He was always away somewhere. He had come back with blood on his robes three times. Not that he had wanted to show her. But it was hard not to notice when you were sitting in the room. For her sanity, she pretended not to know what he was doing. She couldn’t do anything to stop him at the moment. So, it was best not to worry. When the opportunity arose, she would take it and fight him.

Many hours later, Hermione was back in bed again. It was the middle of the night, but she couldn’t sleep. Voldemort hadn’t returned and she feared that he had once again taken out his anger on some innocent Muggle. When the clock stroked two in the morning, she realised she had officially turned twenty years old half an hour ago. Not that she felt any older, she just started to wonder where she would be in another twenty years. Would she even still be alive?

Giving up any hope of falling asleep, she got up from the bed and picked out a random book from the bookshelf and sat down on the couch. Almost an hour later, the door opened and Voldemort stepped through. She looked up and met his gaze. He seemed thoughtful. She noticed he wasn’t covered in blood and felt a burden lift from her shoulders.

He stepped up to her. She gave him a questioning look before he reached out and tilted her head up and kissed her. She was surprised by his gentleness, but leaned into the kiss. Too soon, he broke free.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered.

“Why did you…?” He placed a finger over her lips and she fell silent.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said in a low voice and took her hand.

She frowned. “What kind of surprise?”

“A pet,” he said and pulled her up. “I had planned to give her to one of my minions, but then I figured she would be of better use for you. I’m getting very tired of watching you cry all the time.”

Not certain if she would like this “pet”, Hermione followed him out from the room. He was still holding her hand as they went down the corridor.

“It’s not another head, I hope?” she asked with a nervous smile.

“No, I learned my lesson,” he answered. “This one is alive. We captured her during a fight a couple of weeks ago. I have questioned her, but she didn’t know as much as I would have hoped.”

“It’s a person?” Hermione asked, a bit shocked.

“You could say so.”

They went down a couple of stairs before they came to another corridor. Hermione didn’t know how Voldemort found his way; everything looked the same to her. He stopped in front of a door and opened it with a wave of his wand. Hermione stepped inside and found herself standing in a small dark room. It took some moments before her eyes adjusted to the dark, but when they did, she saw a body on the floor. It was a trembling female body.

“Wake up,” Voldemort said in a commanding voice.

The woman on the floor sat up and when Hermione saw her face, she recognised her. She didn’t look like she used to, her big brown eyes looked haunted, and her beautiful red hair had been shaved off.

Hermione couldn’t hold back a gasp. “Ginny?”
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The Contract