After a difficult few days in which the household had to put up with a few days of a grumpy Voldemort and a Hermione showing him no sympathy whatsoever, peace began to reign again.
One evening, the pair were in the library after dinner, sitting in the comfortable wing back armchairs by the fire. Hermione was sipping her tea and reading another book on magical history, Voldemort was snoozing, legs stretched out and a half glass of brandy in his hand. She soon dozed off herself and, once he was certain she was fully asleep, he opened his eyes and looked at her, a sly smile on his face. The sleeping potion he had instructed the elf to put in her tea really was fast acting and should keep her knocked out all night.
Gently picking her up, he carried her upstairs and hesitated on the landing. Whose bed should he put her in, her own or his? He decided that, this time, it would be for the best if she awoke in her own room. Laying her down and changing her out of her robes and into her nightclothes with a flick of his wand, he sat on the edge of the bed and considered how to proceed.
It had taken longer than he had expected, but his plans were finally coming together. He was excellent at dream and memory implantation and as he had correctly surmised, Hermione had a vivid imagination and would be particularly susceptible to his mind games.
-o-
She woke up with a start the next day, she knew she had been dreaming but could not put her finger on what it was. By the end of the week, her dreams had become memorable. Hermione had begun to see what the world would look like if Voldemort triumphed. No longer would the magical world be required to hide in the shadows like wanted criminals on the run, resorting to memory charms and tricks to keep their secrets. She remembered the muggles who had plagued her childhood, treating her as a freak of nature to be avoided at all costs. Oh how she would enjoy her revenge, already she was compiling a list of her favourite hexes and curses, plotting how she would anniliate those feeble humans.
Ignoring her own heritage, she wondered how muggleborns obtained their magical powers. Perhaps they steal it from the squibs? How outrageous, that young boys and girls, growing in magical families should be deprived the glorious abilities that she herself possessed. But those thieves would pay for their actions. Whether they liked it or not, they would hand over their wands and be sent back to live in the weak muggle world where they belonged.
A chance comment from Hermione was enough to spark animated conversations with Voldemort. She had come to realise how narrow minded her opinions and views had been.
She supposed that there wasn't much one could do about half breeds, they had some magical blood in them after all and the way things were going, they may be required to restore the balance once she and Tom had taken over. But the blood traitors? Like those Weasleys? Let them wait, Tom would know just what to do with them, how best to punish their treachery.
Voldemort observed all this with delight. Even had he not been a legilimens, he could see the changes to Hermione, in particular the slight red tint which appeared in her eyes when she listened to him eagerly explain some of his plans.
He did not tell her everything, it was tempting to resort to the sleeping potion and powers of suggestion, but he was content to be patient and would not force her hand, soon enough she would offer herself up to him of her own free will. He would govern alone, strong as she was he would not share power, and who knows, perhaps one day she would provide him with the ultimate key to immortality. An heir.