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She had never felt so filthy in all her life. No matter how many times she cleaned herself the dirt remained there. Last night she had begged for it. Screamed for it even, and now she was sickened by the constant reminder that she'd actually enjoyed it.
The moment she woke Hermione had cursed herself for being so trusting when it came to that wine. Of course it was spiked. What was the matter with her? She would have to be far more careful next time. A simple love potion! Red wine used to cover the scent. She felt disgusted with herself.
Hermione had hoped to sneak out of his rooms, but the door was locked. He was still asleep, muttering under his breath. She'd considered smothering him with a pillow, but knew that his reflexes were too fast for her. Besides, he was one of the few keeping her alive. Many others wanted her and Rose dead. So instead she found the shower, making the temperature as hot as she could as if it could burn his scent off of her. There were no fragrances to wash with, so she came out of the shower as if she'd been rained on rather than cleaned. There were three immaculate white towels that looked as if they'd never been used, yet Hermione still dried herself quickly - not wanting to share any more with him than she had to. Her gown had been ruined during last nights exertions, not that she cared to ever wear it again. Back in the bedroom however a simple a line chiffon blue dress had been laid out. It was actually quite pretty, something she would have worn in times long ago. Putting it on made her feel almost normal again. It could be worn in the muggle world. The muggle world! What was it like? There was music. There was always music. These days it was silence.
'I knew you'd like it.'
Startled, Hermione spun around. Voldemort was there, already dressed in his usual black robes and sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire. Nagini lay sleepily at his feet. She eyed the snake suspiciously. It had always made her feel uneasy.
Voldemort cocked an eyebrow. 'You seem distressed?'
'You drugged me' She spat at him with more venom than she thought she had. 'You've taken my body from me and last night you took my mind!'
He shrugged. It infuriated her.
'You are leaving me with nothing! Everyone deserves the right to own their mind and body! They belong to nobody else!' She was red in the face from screaming now. 'You cannot take these things away! I have the right to decide! I have the right to control over my body and my mind! It is not something that I will relinquish!'
She'd hoped to provoke a fight out of him. She'd expected it. Instead he just looked at her quizzically. 'It was just an experiment.'
'I am not yours to experiment with.'
Voldemort frowned slightly. Nagini gave her a reproachful look and slithered her way onto her masters lap. He put his hand on her head, as if for comfort.
'No. I am the most powerful man in the world and yet you defy me at every turn. I do not understand it. You will see at court how other women are desperate to be in my bed, but all I ever see from you is repulsion. I had thought that having children together would change it.'
'You can't force someone to fall in love with you.' Hermione said stonily, folding her arms.
'My mother made my father fall in love with her.'
Hermione was startled. It was the most personal thing he'd ever said, yet he spoke as if he were just updating her on the weather.
'She used a love potion for the whole of their relationship. When she found out that she was expecting me she stopped using the potion, thinking that he would stay. He didn't.' Voldemort cocked his head to one side and stared at her. 'That old fool Dumbledore used to fret that I could not love, but it made me the most powerful wizard in the world. If my son were conceived from a love potion then he would be powerful too. He would be like me.' He smirked. 'You are appalled?'
'I don't understand why you are so terrified of love.'
Voldemort rose from his chair in fury. 'I am not afraid of love!' He spat. 'I am not afraid of anything! I was born without love and it made me strong!'
'No' Hermione was feeling braver. 'It made you afraid.'
Angrily he smacked her across the face, causing her to crash onto the floor.
'Never speak to me like that again.' He hissed. 'While you spent your childhood crying for your mother and father, I spent mine growing stronger. While they held you back, I was able to push myself forwards.'
'Aren't you curious to know what it's like?' The question blurted out of her before she could stop it.
He frowned. 'Know what what's like?'
'Being loved. To know the love of a parent.'
Voldemort hesitated. She could almost see his thoughts. An orphan boy waiting for a family that never came. Being dressed up in his best and paraded in front of potential parents who'd adopt him. Watching as they took home the other children instead. Watching as he got rejected again and again and again. Watching as he found his father after years of searching and was cruelly laughed at, tormented and turned away.
'Enough!' He screamed.
Hermione was startled as she came out of the trance. She'd seen inside his head. She'd never seen him look so panicked.
'How did you do that?'
'I-I' She stammered, not sure how to respond.
'Tell me!' He screeched, hauling her up by the hair. 'Tell me how you did that!'
'I don't know!' She cried out. 'Please, I don't know! I just wondered how you felt and I knew! It wasn't like normal Legilimency! It just happened!'
Both were breathing hard and fast, but Hermione knew that he was more terrified than she was.
'Where did you learn to do Legilimency?' Voldemort shook her.
'I didn't! I've always been able to do it! It was one of the first pieces of magic I could do as a child! I didn't know what it was until I was thirteen!'
Voldemort pushed her away and moved over to the bookcase. Nagini slithered over to Hermione and hissed menacingly. She resisted the urge to kick her.
Voldemort was frantically searching through all of the books, tossing them on the floor until he found a slim blue notebook with silver writing on the outside in a language that Hermione did not know. He flicked through it quickly before stopping on a page and scanning it hard. She felt nervous. Why had this put him so on edge? It was true it was an unusual skill to be born with, but it hadn't caused any harm.
He continued to read the same page again and again. Hermione watched him with unease. At times like this he reminded her of a tightly coiled spring. So when he whispered at her to get out, she fled as quickly as she could.
Voldemort did not speak of the incident again and Hermione didn't see any reason to bring it up. His fear had sparked a curiousity inside her though. If she could see into his past, could she into his present? Could she see what he was planning? She'd never entertained the idea of using her Legilimency, she had not been properly trained and saw it as dark magic. It was an invasion of privacy. A weapon.
What she saw played in her head over and over again though. A small dark haired skinny boy with big haunted eyes watching at the window, staring at the other children, unsure of how to go and play. She wanted to mother him. To brush the dust off of his clothes and tell him what a special little boy he was. Maybe if someone had done that to him at the time, he wouldn't be the monster that he was today.
She'd heard the angry little voices in her head. Voices that told him that his mother couldn't have really loved him or she wouldn't have died. Voices that jeered at him because he had no father, or a father who didn't want him. She desperately wanted to say that it wasn't true.
But it was. His father had walked out on him. He'd laughed in his face when he came looking for him. He told him to leave and called him a mistake. His father wasn't a real father.
No. She had to stop this. She couldn't feel sympathy for this man. Whatever his background, it did not excuse his behaviour today.
Did it?
Narcissa had begun to teach her the etiquette that would be required of her at court. Hermione really couldn't be bothered with it all. There were only so many ways of saying 'smile and keep your mouth shut'. Everyone would bow to her. She would bow only to Voldemort.
Hermione would have as her companions Martine Copplestone, Melinda Bobbin, Zoe Accrington, Claudine Sandhurst, Delilah Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson and Bellatrix Lestrange. None of these gave her any pleasure. Her only thanks would be that Narcissa would be there to guide her. Pansy had tormented her at school. She'd made her feel worthless. How was she to endure seeing her again? And Bellatrix Lestrange? She shuddered at the thought. She could only pray that Narcissa could keep her sister under control.
She would have to manage these ladies and oversee their tasks in the running of the court. She would also be a guide to the young unmarried pureblood women and approve their husbands when the time was right. She would be Queen.
Nonetheless, the thought made Hermione sick. She'd spent years in isolation, desperate to get out but now she craved for it again. She had not wanted to be put on display. Her only consolation would be that she got to see Rose again.
Hermione had not conceived the night Voldemort drugged her. She conceived some days later whilst only pretending to be under the influence of the potion, having asked Narcissa to smuggle her the antidote before. It was horrible and degrading to pretend to be in love with such a monster, but at least she got to keep her mind. It was only when she announced her pregnancy to Voldemort did he tell her that she would be allowed to bring up Rose.
Hermione was over the moon. Everything she had done up to that point had been worth it. Even clinging onto Voldemort and crying out that he was the best, the very best had been a price worth paying.
It also put her mind at ease that this child had not been conceived under a love potion. What Voldemort had said about him being unable to love because he was conceived under the influence of a love potion, had greatly concerned Hermione. She had no desire to bear another Voldemort. This child would not be born out of love. But she would love her child.
Two months into her pregnancy, Hermione moved with Voldemort from The Valley to The Fen. Voldemort had insisted on side-along apparition, so she was spared the humiliating ritual of being paraded out in a carriage, but having not apperated in such a long time and still suffering from morning sickness, Hermione nearly threw up.
It was a spectacular palace of white marble, emerald, silver and gold. She'd never seen so much wealth in one place. It was really quite gaudy. Voldemort squeezed her hand and gave her a rare smile. 'Our new home.'
She nearly threw up again. His domestic comments were always meant to mock her. He was a child playing house, knowing full well that it is what she had wanted with someone else instead of him.
Quickly the pair were ushered inside with many hushed murmurings of 'My Lord' and the occasional 'My Lady'. It made Hermione cringe. The inside was even brighter and the courtiers were brighter still, incredibly bejewelled to the point where she wondered how they were able to stay upright with that weight on them.
No two people had the same reaction when they saw her. A flicker of a genuine smile. A snooty stare. A bewildered gaze. A harsh glare. An over the top pretentious smile ran towards her and embraced her.
'Oh it's so good to see you again!' Pansy Parkinson cooed in Hermione's ear. 'How wonderful!'
Hermione looked at her old school enemy in disgust. Pansy seemed not to notice. She was too busy grinning from ear to ear.
She looked ridiculous. She wore a wide burnt orange taffeta gown with a green satin underskirt and ermine lining on the sleeves and hem. Her corset was embroidered with gold thread and gemstones of all different sizes and colours while her throat was adorned with a dozen different necklaces of emeralds, onyx and sapphires. Her hair had to be a wig, Hermione had never seen hair so high - it mimicked the style of Marie Antoinette with diamonds and large green bows. Pansy's nastiness had always made her look ugly. Now her vanity made her look uglier still.
Voldemort was smiling at the pair. 'Careful, Mrs. Yaxley. Mind the child.'
'Oh yes!' Pansy gave a very girlish giggle that made Hermione's skin crawl. 'What a precious little thing! My Lord, your other daughter waits upstairs.'
Rose! Hermione felt a burst of adrenaline surge through her. 'When can I see her?' She interrupted.
'You still have many things to do.' Voldemort was enjoying this. Toying with her. Once they are done, I will consider your request.' He waited for her to thank him.
She didn't.
For five hours she had to go through meeting all the people who had gathered to welcome Voldemort back. Pretending to have learnt their names and nodding as they bored her with stories of her great Voldemort was. All she could think of was Rose.
When Voldemort announced that the meetings were over, she was ecstatic and felt that a visit to her daughter was well overdue! But instead she was led to another room where Pansy, Zoe and Claudine held fabric around her and ordered the seamstress to make new gowns for her. They were all dressed as flamboyantly as Pansy, and Hermione didn't get the feeling that they'd specifically dressed up for this. They wanted her to dress as flamboyantly too, loading her with jewels until Narcissa came in and said that Voldemort preferred Hermione to be more subtle. That took them aback but they complied anyway. From then on Narcissa designed the gowns. They were still far more revealing than Hermione would have liked, but they were a definite improvement.
'Thank you.' Hermione whispered to Narcissa as she measured her waist. 'Some of those fabrics look truly awful.'
'I know.' Narcissa grimaced. 'Fashion these days is all about putting as much richness as you can, there's no regard for whether or not anything actually looks nice!'
Hermione suppressed a giggle.
'Besides, it's true. He does prefer you to be different. We may all have to dress like clowns at court, but he likes you in simpler attire.' Narcissa smiled and stroked a tendril of hair away from Hermione's face. 'You're beautiful enough as it is, you don't need anything else.'
'I don't think that I'll ever believe that I'm beautiful.' Hermione smiled a little sadly.
Narcissa looked taken aback. 'Did your mother never tell you that you look beautiful?'
'Oh yes, she tried to tell me every day. But somehow we always manage to listen to people's bad perceptions of us rather than the good.'
Narcissa stroked her arm gently. 'That's very wise of you. Very sad. But very wise. Your parents would be proud.'
'If they knew who I were' Hermione said bitterly.
'You've done a fantastic job.' Narcissa lowered her voice. 'He's been looking for them for years. Scouts are still out searching for them. There is no clue to go on. They're combing the world looking for two people who no longer look entirely the same and who have different identities and memories. I do not know of any other witch or wizard who has the power to do that'.
Hermione smiled. 'Not even Voldemort?'
'Not even him.' Narcissa winked. 'Come on, let's go and read Rose a story.'
Rose was ecstatic when her mother walked into the room. She begged to sit on Hermione's lap and be read a story. Hermione was touched to see that she still had the doll that she'd made for her.
Rose was now looking a lot healthier. No injuries marked her face and she looked a lot happier. Nonetheless she clung onto Hermione, desperately fighting sleep, not wanting to see her go.
Hermione was over the moon. She had not yet told Rose that she was pregnant again. It was too much information for her before bed.
Rose's bedroom was far nicer than it had been before. Pink and white with little pink rosebuds painted on the walls. A collection of toys lay neatly in the corner. Her gorgeous little dresses hung up in the wardrobe with bags of rose petals tied around the necks to keep them smelling fresh.
Hermione stayed at sat with Rose awhile; even in sleep Rose clung tight onto Hermione's hand as if she would never let go. Hermione did not mind. She would probably go to sleep here tonight as well. All was peaceful until Bellatrix Lestrange walked through the door.
