Cheated

Hi everyone, this is my first Hermione/Voldemort Story. I will almost never write sweet reformed Voldemort, he's Voldemort. Even though he can't pronounce his own name correctly, it's Vol-der-mor, even if it spelt the same, stupid non-French knowing wizard. No I have not forgotten my other stories, but I had to write this for school and I liked it so I posted it on here, tell me what you think. Currently it's a one-shot but tell me if you think I should write more.

gsalilsecret formerly ilovesiriusorionblack.

"Stupid Ron, stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid Harry, stupid, stupid." Hermione cursed herself.

Of course Harry, Saint Harry Potter, would support Ron, the best friend through everything, even when he left them. She was only the strategist.

Sitting in some dodgy bar in Knocturn Alley wasn't really safe for her, the mudblooded supposed best friend of Harry Potter, the wizarding worlds saviour, but Hermione she was glamoured well, no one would suspect the pretty, leggy blonde with perfect straight hair was the same short, bushy haired mudblood that Potter hung around with.

Sighing in exasperation Hermione called for another shot of firewhiskey. Stupid Ron, arrogant, incompetent, useless, pureblooded, bloodtraitor bigot. She'd show him a real witch. Real witches don't sit around home, having numerous kids and cooking dinner, being there during the night for him to use for a few minutes before rolling off and falling asleep leaving her to finish herself. They were independent, they worked themselves. But no, Ronald Bilius Weasley could only be satisfied with a woman like his mother; she was no Mrs. Weasley, even though she once wanted to be.

Why, why couldn't Ron accept that her job required skill and time, after all she was looking after the most feared wizard of all time, Tom I-am-Lord-Voldemort Riddle. Ron couldn't understand how she could do that job, why she accepted, no matter how many times she told him. Harry disagreed too, saying that there were older more experienced witches and wizards to do the job. Her relationship with her best friend and boyfriend went into a downward spiral from then on. Neither realised that he needed to be exposed to a confident powerful Muggle-born, he needed to realise that Muggles and Muggle-borns were not slaves. She was the best for the job, she was a muggle born, she was powerful, she had helped defeat him so she wasn't afraid to stand up to him, at least not now. She had been terrified at first, almost freaking out and running away, but she had made the decision to do this and now her life was in disarray.

He had to depend on her; she brought him books and company, not to mention better food. The books she brought were almost always Muggle books. He had reacted badly when she first brought them refusing to read them and talk to her, so being Hermione, she read and made the conversation, talking about herself. Only afterwards did she realise that he had learnt much more than he needed to know about her, and she only knew what people had told her. The next day he had talked to her about the books, they were the only thing he had in his cell. From then on the cycle was the same, she would bring books and food, they would talk about his previous reads, he would criticise, she would debate his point, he would eat. Sometimes he even allowed her to stay for a longer portion of the night than usual, at first they had talked, eventually it escalated, Ron could never compare to the limits that Tom made her hit. It was always when she didn't want to go home to Ron and face his resenting glares, she had something better. No! Tom didn't allow her to stay, she chose to, he had no choice, if she wanted him, he had no say in the matter. But he did.

Shaking the traitorous thoughts from her head, his arms that held her at night, his smirk of satisfaction, his newly grown hair, the way he kissed she till she was dizzy, the way he actually let her be pleasured be he was. No, this was not what she should be thinking about; she should be thinking about Ron, even though it hurt, she had to. Hermione couldn't understand it, Ron always said he loved her; he had always been the one more into the idea of a relationship, more passionate about it, but there he was, kissing a shirtless Lavender Brown his once ex-girlfriend, one of his hands in her hair, the other moving towards her skirt, hers on up his shirt. Her world shattered, Ron was cheating on her with Lavender, Lavender Brown, of all people. She was what he thought a real witch was. She fled to Harry's, sure he would understand, incredibly he supported Ron, she had, he said, brought this on herself by refusing to listen to them about the former Dark Lord. He was her best friend, yet he supported her cheating boyfriend. Unable to stand it anymore, she glamoured herself and came to this shabby little bar and attempted to drown her sorrows.

Hermione didn't know why she had come here, well she did but she wasn't admitting it, he had no power over her, none. Unable to bear it, she looked at the only empty table, reserved for Lord wand-up-his-arse Voldemort and his brainless Death Eaters. Tom had mentioned this place once or twice, that was why she was here, and the reason she was drinking this brand of firewhiskey, Tom again, it was his favourite.

"I didn't know I had so much influence over you, my little mudblood." If it hadn't been for the soft brush of lips on her ear Hermione would have been sure she imagined the whisper.

"Tom!" Hermione gasped "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in a cell, where you're safe."

"I'm always safe, mudblood, as if anyone would dare to attack Lord Voldemort; I'm more powerful than everyone in this bar even without a wand. To answer you previous question," he sat down and motioned for a shot of the firewhiskey, "the guard was far too easy to imperious, no restraint at all, quite pathetic really, I assume he was a mudblood."

"Tom, I'm a mudblood." Hermione all but hissed indignantly.

"Perhaps, but your much more than that," he whispered as he down his shot, Hermione imitating, "You're my mudblood, so you're better than even my purest Death Eaters, not to mention much more fun than Bellatrix." Hermione knew there was no point arguing.

"Leave with me Hermione," he said suddenly, "I'm not staying in this filthy hole of a country, we'll go somewhere else, I'll build up my forces and you, you can rule beside me, my Dark Lady. I'll even let you have Weasley for your vengeance. Whatever you want to do to him, I'll let you."

How did he do it, his voice, even whilst talking about things she abhorred, was slowly pulling at her, seducing her.

"I don't…"

"Know? Don't think, use your instincts. I know you want me Hermione, I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your magic, with every night we spend together; let me bring out your inner Slytherin."

Wordlessly Hermione took his advice, placing her hand trustingly into Tom's, the latter apparating them away from the dodgy Knocturn Alley bar, away from England just as the old wireless crackled to life

"The most infamous wizard of all time, You-Know-Who has escaped from his high security cell. The guard has signs of the imperious curse being used. Top suspects are being interrogated. No known suspects have been released. If he is seen do not approach, remember he is highly dangerous. Please call the aurors."