Daddy Dear

Summary: I'm training in the Dark Arts, betrothed at seventeen and oh yea by the way Voldemort's my dad.

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I wish I did.

It was a dreary day for August and unusually cold too. A group of people cloaked in black stood in a circle around a smoked grey casket. Heavy rain fell down as the ceremonies began, covering everyone in icy coldness, yet no one dared to move. A tall figure at the center of the group, spoke with extreme fatigue and some what of sadness. At last the man stepped down from the platform he was standing on, allowing everyone to let out the breath they've been holding.

Soon one by one, with hushed words to the man, left with a tiny pop. Just as Lucius Malfoy was about to leave a cold voice met his year.

"Just a minute Lucius, I need to speak to you."

Lucius reluctantly turned around to face the Dark Lord. Being alone with him wasn't something Lucius enjoyed doing the most; the Lord was capable of anything, anytime.

"Yes my Lord is there anything I can offer you," Lucius said politely with a bow.

"For years you have been my faithful servant."

"Thank you sir, I am not worthy of such compliment."

"Don't play modest with me Lucius, such games irritate me, but I will forgive you this time. My wife died yesterday as you well know and I will perish soon enough either naturally or at the hands of the potter boy," the Dark Lord paused for breath.

"Harry Potter cannot destroy one as mighty as you," Lucius lied, knowing full well that Potter could destroy the Dark Lord only if he knew the way.

Voldemort eyed the man before him, chuckling at Lucius's willingness to please him, "Do not lie to me Lucius, we both know can Potter can kill me. And if he does, then I need someone to carry on the legend of the Dark Lord."

"My lord I am most honored that you-,"

"SILENCE fool! Don't flatter yourself; you're not worthy at all! For fifty years I've created hell for wizards and muggles alike, that bastard Dumbledore seems to think if I'm destroyed everything will end. But what he doesn't know, Lucius my friend, is going to hurt him the most..."

!&!&!&!&!
Hermione sat on the rusted old swings of the playground. Her ears listened carefully to the singing of the crickets, and the occasional movement of couples walking in the moonlight. No one ever comes here anymore, not since a new playground was built in Swan Park. Here Hermione could think freely without the disturbance of everyday life. And there was always something for her to think about.

Ever since she was eleven, her life turned upside down. From being friends with the boy who lived, freeing a wanted prisoner and fighting with Voldemort's men, Hermione's life was far from normal. She only had one more year to go before the graduation then she's going to be out there chasing her dreams, whatever they were.

Lightly swinging back and forth Hermione drifted into a reverie...

A little bundle in a small crib lined with light green trim. The baby was crying, tears leaked out of the corners of the baby's eyes. Then a pair of hands with long slender fingers picked up the baby, gently rocking it back to sleep. The woman's face was blurry, but streams of tears flowed down her cheek, dripping onto the baby's soft hair. With a silent kiss, the woman put the baby back into its cradle. The woman was saying something, whispering, words that had no sound, all the sudden she was gone, leaving the baby all alone, never to feel love again...

With a loud gasp Hermione ripped out off her dream, clutching her heart. That was the third time she had the dream, every time it would end the same way, with the baby being all alone just like her. Hermione mentally slapped herself, what was she saying she wasn't alone she had Harry and Ron and her parents that loved her so much. Before Hermione could think anyone, a soft rustle disturbed the silence of the play area. Carefully, Hermione hopped of the swing and looked around wildly trying to pinpoint the noise.

No one could be out this late, unless they were looking for her, Hermione pushed the thought out of her mind. No one could be looking for her, why anyone would want to find her there was no reason at all.

Then before Hermione could do anything a figure stepped out from the shadow, with a blinding flash of light everything was gone...

!

'God, my head, what's going on, why does my head hurt so much, where am I, why can't I feel my hands.'

With the last thought Hermione's eyes sprang open. At first she thought she was in a fancy hotel then she realized that no hotel would have stone walls, at least the hotels she knows. She realized the reason why she couldn't feel her hand was because she was lying on it. Managing roughly to heave herself up into a sitting position, Hermione observed the room carefully. Everything was in a rich creamy color from the satin drapes to the silk bedspread. Everything was decoratively arranged to perfection. Even though everything appeared to be warm there was an eeriness about it, something that wasn't right.

Suddenly the door opened and a small house elf wrapped into a dirty towel came in. Silently it put a heap of cloth on an armchair beside the fire place.

" Miss is expected into the drawing room, Huffy here is suppose to help Miss get dressed to meet the master."

"Master, who's your master and why am I here? How did I get here?" Hermione asked a torrent of questions.

The house elf merely shaked its head and said, "Huffy can't tell, master's orders."

Giving up after a few more tries Hermione let the house Elf dress her. After Huffy was done, she led Hermione up to a self standing mirror. When Hermione saw her reflection she could hardly recognize herself, she was wearing a deep midnight blue robe made from Chinese silk, lined with Victorian satin laces around the bodice.

Hermione nearly gagged at the sight of herself, the clothe were obviously expensive, "Who am I going to meet, the king?"

The house elf took no notice of the bitter sarcasm in her voice; instead she started to waddle out of the room beckoning Hermione to follow her. Hermione obediently followed Huffy, determined to find a way out of wherever she was. As she walked along the corridors Hermione took care to remember where all the staircases are, incase she needed to make a fast break. Huffy went around this corner and the next soon Hermione didn't have a clue how many turns she took.

"Master's waiting for miss inside, please go in. Huffy leaving now," Huffy said softly, stopping in front a pair of mahogany doors.

Hermione took a deep breathe to calm herself down; it wasn't like whoever was on the other side of the door was going to kill her. If the guy was then why he would get her all dressed up, oh no what if he's a major pervert that kidnaps young girls for entertainment. Hermione gave herself a shake; she was letting her imagination run away as usual.

Slowly she opened the door, revealing a cozy little room with a large fire place on the other side. Someone was sitting there in an armchair, facing the blazing fire. Before she could make anymore observations someone shoved her from behind and locked the door, so she couldn't get out.

"Greetings Hermione, nice to see you well," a drawling voice, that was only too familiar to Hermione, stated.

"Why the hell am I here, what are you going to do; I'm warning you if you touch me I'll kill you!"

Lucius chuckled at the thought of a mere teenager killing him.

"Please Hermione calm down no one's going to hurt you, Lucius kindly show her a chair, will you," the cold voice of Lord Voldemort came from the armchair.

"Eep! L-lord Voldemort," Hermione gasped.

"Silence! Do not speak the Lord's name," Lucius commanded.

Voldemort held up his hand, silencing Lucius, "And you Lucius need to know when to be quiet."

"Why am I here?" Hermione asked bravely and tried to keep her voice calm, but it was shaking.

Voldemort at last lifted his gaze from Lucius to Hermione, very slowly. Then to Hermione's great surprise he smiled at her, it wasn't his usual sick and twisted smile neither, it a kind smile.

"Ah Hermione, my dear Hermione, I haven't seen you in nearly seventeen years, since that night you were taken away, now is that anyway to greet your father?" Voldemort spoke softly from the fireside, finally getting up from his chair.

"What in Merlin's Beard are you talking about? You're not my dad, my dad is Joseph Granger!" Hermione stuttered.

Voldemort obviously cracked if he thought he was her dad. Her dad probably home right now worried sick about where she was.

Voldemort laugh quietly and took a step towards her; Hermione, now covered by the shadows of Voldemort, took a step back falling into a chair that Lucius so kindly wheeled around.

"I'm surprise that Granger never told you the truth after all these years, he was supposed to tell you when you entered Hogwarts," Voldemort mumbled to himself, "But never less now you know the truth."

"What the hell are you talking about? What truth?" Hermione was now more confused than ever, why in the world was she here and why is the Dark Lord pretending to be her father.

Voldemort merely smiled at her outburst, "Calm yourself Hermione, I expect my daughter to have more self control than that, it will be well needed for the future."

"STOP SAYING THAT! I'M NOT YOUR DAUGHTOR, NOW LET ME GO HOME!"

"SILENCE! DO NOT EVER RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME!" Voldemort sharply commanded her, and then lowered his voice to a deadly whisper, "You're welcome to go right now if you wish, but keep in mind if you go you will never know the truth about your true heritage."

Hermione stopped in the motion of getting up. Quickly she ran over the possible choices in her head. She could neither go home right now nor never find out what he's talking about, then again what's the chance of him actually letting her go. Or she could stay here and listen to what he has to say, and then try to find a way to get out of there or get killed in the process. The first choice was definitely more logical, but she did want to know what Voldemort was talking about, argh, she's letting her curiosity get the better of her, but in this case the curiosity just might kill the cat.

"Tell me."

"Don't worry, I will."