Chapter Four

He needed to see her. He needed to talk to her. She's been in there for ages. Usually, she likes to cuddle with him after sex. Entwine their legs, her head on his shoulder. And now, she just left him. Couldn't get away fast enough. And she's still in that damn bathroom. What the hell happened?

He scared her off. Everything was going fine, she loved him, she trusted him and he ruined it. Two days with a clean slate and she's running away again. He should have been gentle. Not fall on her like a dog in heat. They didn't even take off their clothes. Hell, they didn't make it to the bed even though it was but two steps away.

He felt like breaking down the door. Admittedly he went too fast, but she was there with him almost every step of the way. He valiantly searched for a hold on his emotions. It was fragile at best and it wouldn't take long for it to snap. The way he was feeling, he wouldn't be using an Alohomora to open the door, but a Reducto or Bombarda.

Balling his fists, he knocked on the door and entered. She was lying in the tub, peacefully, almost serenely. Her eyes closed, her wet hair tangling all over her shoulders, her breasts flirting with the surface of the water. Thankfully, the tub was just large enough to accommodate them both. Taking off this clothes quickly, he tested the water and climbed in on the opposite side.

She didn't stir. Didn't even scrunch her eyes. Was she asleep or ignoring him? He couldn't live with either option, so he added some warm water and set about waking her up. Painting her silhouette with fleeting touches of his fingers, he whispered sweet nothings to her.

"Hermione, baby, wake up. Darling, open your eyes.. I want you."

And still no reaction. Her breasts were puckered by the cold and screaming for his attention. Obligingly, he kissed and licked them. Bit at her and soothed the spot. In the meantime, his hand moved to her folds, tracing them lovingly, gently, rubbing her clit until it was swollen. When he entered her with his fingers, she turned her head from side to side and moaned quietly. He began pumping his digits in and out of her repeatedly, knowing he'd have her awake in a few moments. She stirred again, her eyes flickering behind her lids. The smile on his face was anticipating, she was almost there. Gently rubbing her bud again with his thumb, he increased the pressure with every pump of his fingers. And he couldn't resist palming his cock.

"Oh.. Oh. What? Oh.. mmmhm?"

She was awake and Tom smirked triumphantly. She was at the edge of the cliff. A few strikes of his hand, and she would be coming.

"Stop..p. Please. No, oh, don't want.. Oh, no, no."

Why was she resisting him?

"I know, oh.. know. Mmhm, You are.. oh, Voldemort!" She called out his name mid orgasm, drawing out every syllable, almost screaming it out. Tom was dazed, drunk with the pleasure of hearing her yell Voldemort while climaxing. It was magical, and he pulled out his fingers from her body to cradle her tenderly like she was made of glass.

"God, Hermione, you're beautiful. You unhinge me, sweetheart."

Then she came down again, her eyes filling with terror and hurt, and it finally clicked. She called him Voldemort. She knew he was Voldemort. He stiffened his spine and wiped the expression off his face.

Hermione stood up and left the tub in a panic, not thinking straight. She threw open the door with a bang and ran to her room, unaware of her nakedness or maybe not caring in the face of danger. She was crying, terrified of him and felt the primitive need to get away. Scenes from the past flashed in front of her eyes.

A trusting, fifteen-year old Hermione, stumbling upon a Death Eater meeting. Seeing Tom torture a prisoner, an broken body in the middle of a circle of cloaked figures. Seeing the hate on his face, as he repeatedly cast the Cruciates Curse on the woman.

Cloaked figures kissed the hem of his robe, kneeling before him, calling him "my lord". Telling him he was a true heir of Slytherin. That ruling was his birthright. That there was no greater power on earth than him.

Voldemort, not her Tom, hammering out the details of his plans to take over the government with his followers. Laying out plans to raid different establishments, to kill innocent people. To turn powerful people to his side. Telling his followers to take no prisoners, only the ones he needed.

Her, crying hysterically in her room, packing her bags. Tom, descending on her, taking the bag and throwing it against the wall. "You will never leave me, never."

Her, cowering away from him, refusing to eat. Not talking, not sleeping, confined to her rooms spending the time alone or with Tom. Not daring to think about what he was doing when he wasn't with her. Yet unable to stop thinking about all the possible victims, the carnage her beloved Tom must be causing. Throwing up every night, weighed down with guilt on his behalf and with guilt for having loved him. Failing to get up in the morning, weighed down with a deep depression. Wasting away.

Tom, continuing his lessons with her even with her lack of participation. Reading to her, enticing her with rare magical artifacts. But his efforts were futile. She remained completely closed off from him.

Tom, exploding in rage when she flinched away from his touch yet again. "You better obey me girl, or you won't like the consequences." Him, reaching for his wand and throwing a curse. Hermione, instinctively putting up a shield. Him, completely losing his mind and, "Crucio". The unbelievable pain, wishing for death, wishing he was attacking her with a slicing knife or a baseball bat instead. And then his remorse. "I'm sorry baby. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me. Please. I love you. I'll do anything for you, please." Him laying next to her while she cried. Holding her while she sobbed uncontrollably.

Tom, entering her room, telling her he couldn't allow a repeat of what happened. Telling her he was sorry, but he had to do this. A flash of light and a whispered Imperio. And she was back to being the Hermione he knew. Her, reading anything he gave her, never trying to escape, loving him again, excited about any scrap he was willing to give her. She was his.

Hermione, putting up some resistance and Tom, having more difficulty with the spell every time he renewed the Imperio.

Tom caught up to her as she threw open another door, slamming her against it and pressing his body against hers. His cock was still erect after witnessing her come, but that was the least of his worries.

"Listen. Listen to me, honey. I'm still me. I'm still the man who loved you and raised you. Everything you remembered before this was true. We were great together, perfectly matched emotionally and rationally. Trust me, Hermione. You mean everything to me. Hear me when I say that I mean you no harm."

"I remember who you are. I remember the Death Eater meetings. I remember you tortured and killed people in your quest for power. I remember you tortured and killed me emotionally. That you kept me locked in this house. Let.. let me go, do not touch me!"

She was crying in earnest now. Her voice broke in different places and she was trembling violently. Tom closed his eyes in anguish. He was back to square one, even after the time she spent in the past.

He swallowed, "And the months before you came back to me, the months you were away. Didn't those mean anything to you?"

"What do you mean? What meant anything? Are you trying to confuse me? You.. you're evil. That's what I meant."

She pressed herself even further against the door, trying to avoid contact with him.

"I hate you. I hate everything you stand for. I wish you'd never found me. I wish you'd let me die as a child. I wish I'd never let you.. touch.. me. Stay away from me, you monster", she said, her voice getting fainter with each word she spoke, and he felt every whisper cut through his flesh. Her words crucified him. After everything, she still hated him. His plan didn't work. He fell to his knees behind her, his face drawn into tight lines. He kissed her hip, "Forgive me, Hermione. Forgive me. If I could take back the things I've done that hurt you, I would. I love you."

She shivered, "I don't believe you're capable of love. You're not human. You're Voldemort, that is what defines you. And I don't believe you'd take back everything you did to me. Because you didn't just hurt me when you cursed me. You hurt me with every terrible thing you did. I may not have known about every murder, every victim, but I still felt them. I felt the pain and guilt in my bones and rushing through my bloodstream. It made me physically ill, the idea of what you might be doing. What you were capable of doing for power. And we both know you'd never take back those things that brought you closer to your goal. "

Still clutching the door desperately she added, "And if you truly mean me no harm now, you'll let me go."

And he did. He watched her run for her wand, blindly pick a sundress, all the while keeping him in her eyesight. She didn't even take the time to put the dress on. She just made a beeline for the door. However, before she even turned the corner Tom put up an Anti-Apparation ward, vanished all the floo powder and reinforced the boundaries of his property. He'll let her have some breathing space but he'll never let her go.

With exception of the time he tortured her, he'd do it all over again. He'd prefer not to have to use the Imperius. But if it's necessary, he will.