Hello again! Thanks for the favourites! I was quite nervous about writing this chapter but here goes anyway! Love to hear you responses. xx
Since the brutal murder of Terry Boot, Hermione had refused to leave her rooms. Initially she'd wanted to create more trouble, but she couldn't deal with any more blood on her hands. Seeing him had reminded her of the days at Hogwarts. It should have been a comforting memory, but it was a blur of nameless faces. She shared a dorm with Lavender but who else? What did her Charms classroom look like? What was the Professor called? What colour were Ron's eyes?
Blue. She always remembered after a fashion. But each time took longer to recall what shade they were and how they looked at her. Hermione focused on that now as the maids laced her into a new gown. It was at Voldemort's demand. She was to leave her room and dine with him. It was strange. Hermione couldn't remember a time where she'd seen him eat before.
The new gown was crimson satin and black lace. As usual she hated it. It oozed lust and sexuality. It was a whore's gown.
Once she was deemed ready, guards came to collect her, ogling at her cleavage before taking her round to the other side of the Manor. Hermione had never been round here before. This was Voldemort's private tower. Any trespasser - even a lost one - would be cursed as soon as they hit the forcefield.
The steps were never ending. It was freezing too, there were no torches hung on the cold stone walls as there would be usually. Voldemort liked the cold. It kept him awake.
Over time the feeling of dread in her stomach over seeing him had begun to go down. However, she still retained a small slither of terror for this unpredictable madman. Nonetheless, she was curious to see what the room would look like. She'd be disappointed if it were emerald green with silver snakes - far too predictable. Hermione didn't have to wait long, they were at the entrance.
It was similar in design to the Chamber of Secrets but made of silver rather than stone and the centre depicted an engraving of a snake holding a lion, a badger and an eagle tight in its grasp. The picture was moving, the eagle was frantically flapping her wings, the badger shrieking and the lion trying to claw his way free, only the snake seemed serene.
'MiLord.' One of the guards called out. 'Miss Tribusanguis is here.'
Trib what? But Hermione's thought was interrupted.
'Enter.' She'd never heard his voice sound so strong.
The entrance swung open and she was pushed inside.
It was pitch black. Her eyes couldn't even adjust to it. Thankfully a large roaring fire was suddenly lit, illuminating most of the room.
Like the rest of the tower it was made from that cold grey stone, rough with age. Tapestries lined the wall, depicting scenes of the four founders arguing, a man stabbing himself over the body of a dead woman and Salazar Slytherin reaching for a baby.
Voldemort stood facing the fireplace, staring so closely at the flames she wondered if he was talking to someone. Above his head hung the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Hermione briefly delighted herself in a vision of it falling off its stand and cutting off his head.
'Harsh, don't you think?' Voldemort commented, still not facing her. 'I am the father of your children.' He turned around. 'I will always count my son.'
Hermione was genuinely baffled. Was that a streak of sorrow that briefly lit his face?
'Wine?' He held out a goblet.
'No.'
'I insist.'
'It sounds like a demand.'
'It is. I have invited you here. You must observe the rules of hospitality. I have offered you the wine. You must accept it graciously.'
Begrudgingly she took it. A thin smile curved on his lips. 'Good girl.'
'Why did they call me that other name?'
She'd thought to make him angry, but his smile stretched wider, pleased.
'It is the name I call you. Your true name.'
'My true name is Granger.' Hermione interrupted fiercely.
He held up a finger to silence her. 'You acquired that name. Your true name from generations before is Tribusanguis.'
'You've said my ancestors have powerful blood. I don't know any wizarding family with that name.'
'There was no wizarding family with that name.'
'But-'
'Drink your wine.' When she started to protest he spoke over her. 'I know that you've only been pretending to drink it.'
Hermione glared at him.
Sighing, Voldemort took the goblet and drank some. 'There.' He said. 'Satisfied? I have not poisoned it.'
Reluctantly she took a swig. Hermione had never cared for red wine, but this wasn't so bad.
'I've been told the punishment you received for running away worked well. I trust it won't happen again.'
Hermione pushed the image of Terry Boot's corpse from her mind. 'It won't.'
'Good. I might not be so merciful next time.'
'That wasn't mercy!' She spat. 'That was-'
'Quiet.' His voice had more authority than she was used to. 'Drink. Supper will be ready soon.'
Hermione hesitated.
'If I have to use Imperio then I will.' Voldemort said lightly. 'Rules of hospitality, remember?'
Determined to keep her own free will, Hermione took another sip.
'Good girl.' He said softly.
'If the Tribusanguis' weren't a wizarding family, how am I descended from them?'
'They never quite got the luxury of being a family, as such, they existed from generation to generation. No extra brothers and sisters to complicate things. You yourself are an only child?'
Hermione nodded. She had no intention of talking about her childhood with Voldemort. The wine was going to her head already, she had not drunk alcohol in so long, she moved to sit on one of the black velvet sofas. To her annoyance, Voldemort sat beside her.
'There are rebellions in the City. I must return to my main residence there. You and Rose will accompany me. It will be good for you both to see more of my work and how I am restoring order to these parts. It will be far busier than you are used to. There are other ladies at court and children for Rose to play with.'
Hermione nodded. Her head felt so heavy.
'There are far more rules to abide by than you are used to. Lady Malfoy will be teaching you. But mark my words, girl - the slightest toe out of line will have dire consequences. There are many young ladies who will be looking up to you.'
She nodded again, her head falling to his shoulder.
'There are many who do not understand my interest in you. Some have been foolish enough to say something. Others have simply thought it. But they don't understand. They can never understand. I must wait until I have my son. If they knew before then they'd steal you for themselves. I cannot let that happen. You are mine.'
She pushes him onto the bed and casts her gown over her head, followed by her bra. He tries to get up to push her down onto the bed and take control, but she pushes him back. You're not allowed to get up. She straddles him and begins to kiss his neck, getting more and more aggressive until she gets to his mouth. Then she rips off his shirt. He throws her underneath him and she arches her back in desire. He moves his mouth down her naked trembling body, biting the side of her hips and her inner thighs. With his teeth he removes the last of her clothing.
She grabs his head as he goes down on her, moaning with lust. It feels incredible. The best she has ever felt, she wants to scream out with pleasure. Swiftly, he removes his trousers and she grabs at him, to suck his dick. He begins to breathe heavier but he still doesn't want her in control. She must never be in control. He grabs her hair and forces all of his dick down her throat before picking her up and thrusting her onto the bed. She wants him so badly, he can tell by her erratic breathing but he just laughs at her and pins her arms to the bed. He bites and sucks her nipples as she gasps with pain and with pleasure. Satisfied, he rubs his dick against her, he's never known her to be so wet or to moan with such pleasure. She starts to cry and begging to be fucked. He obliges. She lets out a loud moan and begs for him to go deeper, her nails digging into his back. But she still wants to be control, she pushes him off of her and straddles him once more, her hand around his throat. He won't stand for this. He slaps her hard across the face and bites hard on her lip to draw blood. As she cries out in pain he shoves her round onto all fours and thrusts into her again, his hand around her throat to keep her in her place. She screams and he comes inside her.
Satisfied, Voldemort pushes her down. She's shaking uncontrollably and her eyes are still dark with desire as she begs for more but he's finished now and uses a charm to make her sleep.
Yes, a love potion was the way to do it.
Yeah, sorrynotsorry to anyone who thought this was going to turn into a love story between the pair - it never will! xx
