Author's Note: Disclaimer. Blah. Blah. Blah. Ok, ok, ok! So, so, so sorry! School has been trying to kill me, I'm trying to plan a wedding, and I've been sick for like ever! Ok, enough with my excuses. Hopefully, you haven't given up on me. As always, your feedback is much appreciated. –K
Ten
The next morning, Hermione awoke alone. She breathed a sigh of relief. She found her normal breakfast tray waiting for her on the table along with a copy of the day's Daily Prophet. She curled into her usual arm chair with a piece of toast and the paper.
First page, nothing.
Second page, nothing.
Third page, nothing.
Fourth page, nothing.
Page five caught her attention.
Thomas Riddle and Hermione Granger happily announce their marriage.
No, no, no, no! Hermione dropped the toast and paper as she sprinted to the bathroom. She leaned over the porcelain bowl as her empty stomach heaved with no outcome. After a few minutes, Hermione was able to get her gag reflex under control.
She stood up and turned on the faucet. Splashing cold water on her face, she glanced up at the mirror. In the reflection, she saw Voldemort leaning against the door jam.
"Not feeling well, dearest?" He smirked.
Hermione didn't have it in her to muster a reply. She pushed passed him and crossed the room to the wardrobe. After several minutes of rummaging through the contents, she found a simple black skirt and matching shirt.
Hermione shot a glance at Voldemort, who was watching her with an expression of slight amusement on his face.
"Do you mind?" She asked, annoyed.
"Not at all. Please, continue." An evil grin stretched across his face.
With an aggravated groan, Hermione grabbed her clothes and stomped back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Moments later, she stormed back into the room fully dressed.
Voldemort was sitting on the edge of the bed holding a pair of black flats. Wordlessly, he extended the shoes to her. Hermione snatched the flats and stuffed her feet into them.
Voldemort grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto the bed. A grin spread across his face as Hermione squirmed and tried to break free of his hold. His lips found hers, as his hands greedily roamed her body.
Hermione tried to push him away, but he wouldn't budge.
Voldemort abandoned his assault on Hermione's lips and trailed kisses down her neck. Finding her mouth free, Hermione bite down hard on Voldemort's shoulder. Voldemort gasped at the pain.
He grabbed her chin roughly. "Minx." He growled, before crushing his lips to hers again.
The hand not holding onto her chin slide down her side, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and shoved it up to her waist. Hermione tried to protest, but Voldemort continued his attack on her lips. Voldemort's hand slide over the front of her knickers, easily finding her sensitive spot. Hermione jerked at the touch. She felt Voldemort grin against her mouth. His hand slide beneath the waistband of her knickers and continued to caress her delicate folds. Hermione moaned softly into his mouth. Voldemort's hand released its grip on her face and extracted his wand from his pocket. With a wave of his wand, their clothes vanished.
Voldemort shifted between her legs and swiftly entered her. Hermione moaned as he slowly pumped within her. Hermione wrapped her arms around him; her fingers tightly gripped his back. Voldemort grabbed her leg hitching it up over his hip, allowing him to enter her more deeply. Hermione moaned more loudly.
"I love to hear you moan." Voldemort's ragged voice whispered in her ear.
Hermione felt the pressure build, as Voldemort caressed the hollow of her throat with his tongue. Her back arched as she fell over the edge. In her cloud of bliss, she called out "Tom."
Voldemort captured her lips once again, as his hot seed shot deep inside her. Panting, he rolled onto the bed at her side. The two remained silent as they caught their breath.
Voldemort retrieved his wand from the bedside table; and with another wave of his wand, they were once again dressed.
"We need to go." He said, sitting up.
"Go where?" Hermione asked.
"Your grandfather has requested your presence."
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Voldemort led her to the same door as the night before. He stopped in front of the door and turned to her.
"You may find this useful," he said, holding her wand out to her.
Hermione quickly took her wand, giving him a questioning look.
"Merry Christmas, Hermione." He said, before turning and opening the door.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The armchairs from the previous night had been shoved up against the wall, leaving a large empty space between the foot of the bed and the fireplace. The old man was standing in the middle of the floor; his cloudy eyes trained on the door.
"Happy Christmas, Princess." He said, hearing the door click shut.
"Happy Christmas, Niallghus." Hermione said, her mind still on the exchange in the hall.
"Are you ready for our first lesson?" He asked.
"Lesson?" Hermione questioned.
"Yes. It is your birth right. I am not long for this world, Hermione, and this knowledge must not end with me. Let us begin."
The next several hours were filled with magic Hermione had never imagined possible. To her surprise, she quickly learned each task effortlessly.
Finally, the old man yawned and sat down in one of the chairs.
"I think that will do for today. I need to rest now. We will continue with your training tomorrow. Have a good day, Princess." He said, slightly out of breath.
Hermione bid him farewell and left the room. Finding no one waiting for her in the hall, she retraced the route she had taken earlier with Voldemort.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The door opened, and Hermione entered the bedroom. Two dark heads swiveled to stare at her from the armchairs by the fireplace. Voldemort gave her a smirk. Severus Snape stared at her with a blank face.
"Come here, Hermione." Voldemort said. "How was your lesson with the old man?"
Hermione crossed the room. Voldemort stood from his chair, momentarily forgetting Snapes presence.
"It went well." She said hesitantly. She fingered the end of her wand that was stuffed into the waist of her skirt. She pulled it free and held it out in front of her.
"I'm assuming you want this back." She said.
"You may keep it, as long as you don't try anything stupid."
Hermione returned the wand to her waistband.
"Now, what did you learn?" The curiosity evident on his face.
Hermione cupped her hands in front of her and narrowed her eyes. A small sphere of fire floated above her palms.
"How impressive," Voldemort said sarcastically.
Glaring at Voldemort's sardonic tone, Hermione took a deep breath. Gently, she blew on the flame floating in her hands. The small sphere elongated and grew. Hermione continued to blow on the fire, which twisted and reshaped itself.
Snape let out an audible gasp at the sight in front of him. From Hermione's hands, there extended a serpent made completely of fire. The serpent coiled in the air; it's tongue flicking out menacingly.
Hermione brought the palms of her hands together and the creature vanished.
"Very impressive," Voldemort said, still staring at the air the serpent has just vacated. His tone, now, completely void of sarcasm. "What else did the old man teach you?"
"I'll need a volunteer for this next one," Hermione said, smiling.
Voldemort gestured to Snape, whom cautiously vacated his chair.
Hermione turned her smile on Snape, remembering all the nasty comments he had ever said to her.
"So sorry, Professor." Hermione said blankly.
Snape shifted uncertainly.
Hermione lifted her right hand to her temple and narrowed her eyes at the greasy bat-like man in front of her. An agonizing yell emanated from Snape, as he clutched his head in both hands and fell to his knees. After a few seconds, Hermione removed her hand and looked away from her victim. Snape's screams stopped; however, he remained on the floor panting.
Hermione glanced at Voldemort. He had moved closer to her.
"Amazing." He said, more to himself than anyone else.
He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head upward. He brought his lips down on hers.
Hermione closed her eyes at the contact and concentrated her mind. Suddenly, she forcefully pushed Voldemort away.
"I will not be your weapon!" She yelled, taking a step back.
"I didn't say anything about you being a weapon." He said.
"No, but you thought it." She spat.
"Thought it?"
He grabbed her by both arms roughly.
"You dared to read my mind?" He roared, shaking her.
Tears slide down her cheeks, as his fingers dug into her arms.
"I'm s-sorry. I ju-just wanted to see if it would w-work." She whispered.
"Well apparently it did. If it happens again, do not think I will hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?" He yelled, shaking her roughly.
"Yes." She whispered.
He threw her on the sofa, and stormed towards the door.
"Come Severus, we'll finish our conversation elsewhere." Voldemort commanded.
Snape crossed the room quickly and exited through the door. Voldemort slammed the door hard behind him; an audible click of the lock followed.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Hermione sat on the sofa, slowly pulling herself together. She ran her left hand through her hair, wincing when the hair pulled. She removed her hand to investigate. On her fourth finger was a ring. The band was a white gold snake that circled around her finger. Between the snake's head and tail was an ostentatiously large diamond. The snake stared up at her with emerald chip eyes.
Hermione grabbed the ring and tried in vain to pull it off. The ring did not budge.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Several hours later, the door to the room opened once again. Hermione looked up, expecting to see Voldemort. The person who entered, however, was not Voldemort. Rabastan Lestrange sauntered into the room.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded.
"The Dark Lord sent me to retrieve you." Lestrange sneered.
"I'm not going anywhere with you. Tell him to send someone else." She snapped, turning her back to him.
Lestrange walked farther into the room.
"What's the matter, little mudblood?" He jeered. "Did I kill someone you loved?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she spun around to face him.
"As a matter of fact, you did. You killed my mother." Hermione hissed.
Lestrange smirked. "What was her name? Maybe I can tell you how the pathetic muggle begged for her worthless life."
"My mother's name was Gillian, and she wasn't a muggle."
The smirk fell from his face. His eyes roamed over her face. He unconsciously took a step towards her. Hermione moved away, circling around the furniture towards the door.
"That's not possible." Lestrange muttered. "Gillian didn't have a child. I would have known. You do look so much like her, though."
The entire time he talked, he was walking toward her. Hermione, who had continued moving away from him, was now within five feet of the door.
"Except your eyes. They're too dark. You must have gotten those from—" Lestrange stopped, as realization became evident on his face.
"How is that possible?" He asked.
"Why do you think she hid for so long, and then suddenly decided to face you? She didn't want you to know about me! You're a monster!" Hermione screamed.
"You killed her, because she didn't want anything to do with him! You probably would have handed me right over to him. Not that it really matters now! What an honor it must be! Your daughter married to your master. You must be so proud." She yelled, tugging her ring.
Lestrange stepped closer. "I didn't mean to," he whispered.
"You didn't mean to? You didn't mean to! You and that crazy bitch murdered her!" Hermione yelled.
"No." Lestrange said, reaching out to touch her arm.
Hermione jumped away.
"Don't touch me!" She shouted.
Lestrange came toward her again. Hermione brought her right hand to her temple, and narrowed her eyes at her father. Lestrange let out a blood-curdling scream and fell to his knees in front of her. Hermione continued to glare at the man withering on the floor in pain. Lestrange's screams intensified as he convulsed at her feet.
"What the hell are you doing?" Voldemort demanded, grabbing her by the arm. He succeeded in dislodging her hand from her temple. The screams stopped. Lestrange lay on the floor panting and clutching at his head.
Tears streamed down Hermione's face. She turned in towards Voldemort, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Oh, Tom." She cried into his shoulder. "This is all his fault."
Voldemort stiffened at his given name. He brushed his hand through her hair.
"Did he hurt you?" Voldemort asked, gently.
Hermione shook her head.
"Leave us. Now." Voldemort ordered, glaring down at the man on the floor.
Lestrange drug himself upright after much effort, and limped out of the room. Voldemort lifted Hermione into his arms, carried her toward the fireplace, and settled into a chair with her on his lap.
"He killed her." Hermione whispered. "He killed her, and then he taunted me."
Voldemort rubbed her back. "I could kill him if you like."
"Voldemort, just keep him away from me." Hermione said, looking up into his eyes. She gave him as sad little smile, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the check.
"Thank you for being so nice to me." She whispered.