The Dark Lord had Nymphadora on her knees next to the dining room table.

"Ah, Ms. Granger. So glad you could join us."

Hermione's books and quills spilled across the glossy floor at the address.

Voldemort clicked Her tongue against the back of Her teeth with snake-slit pupils, "Tsk. So clumsy."

On her knees, nude and quivering, Tonks sighed wistfully.

Hermione cleared her throat with great trepidation, unsure as she took in the bizarre situation. Since Voldemort's ascension to the realm of flesh She'd been absent from public duty. Indeed, She still took to the general running of the realm-that much was known through the groaning of the gentry-but physically it had been as if She'd never existed. Hermione had always known otherwise. It was in the heady thump of the locket around her neck, talkative and healthy.

She swallowed nervously, eyeing the mess her research now made around her feet. "M-my Lord."

Voldemort hummed with pleased acknowledgement. "Not my Lady?"

Hermione licked her bottom lip, "You are... my Lord, my Lady, my…"

"Everything?" Voldemort said.

Hermione nodded, knowing such was true, if only due to the bond they now shared. Hermione's blood mixed with Voldemort's own. Voldemort's soul, a leeching seed that hung in locket form against her chest.

Involuntarily, her gaze dropped back to Tonks before she spoke, "I will… call you whatever you wish."

"Sometimes," Voldemort hissed with sibilant longing, "I think I wish for you to call me Mother. Or, perhaps, I prefer to ring of Sire, Lord and Lady."

Voldemort's long nails, shiny and hooked like claws, hung precariously over Tonks bowed head, twitching in inaction while Hermione watched, frozen in strange fascination. She felt irrevocably drawn to stillness, bound by the heavy weight of unease that bunched within her guts.

"Oh? What is it, Ms. Granger, my Firstborn? You look a bit nervous."

With numb legs Hermione knelt, to worship and to clean up her fallen books and quills. "I… am just wondering if I've-"

Power pressed against her flesh, a chilled lick of dark fire. Hermione parted her lips as the pang of her knees hitting the pretty dining room floor echoed about her suddenly empty skull.

"Silence."

Hermione held her breath.

"You wonder if you've offended me."

It's not a question, it's a fact. Hermione had been spread with supernatural dexterity, her folds of her brain opened like a well-read book.

"Titles mean little to me. I'd respond to Mother or Lord or God-King too." There's a strange glow in the depths of Her eyes, a glimmer of gold flexed among the vibrancy of Her reds. "Offended? At that? Nonsense."

Hermione shivered when She placed Her hand upon the back of Tonks' skull, a casual motion both possessive and somehow dismissive. "No, my little witch. I am not offended by that."

Tonks hissed out a soft foreign sound as Voldemort threaded fingers across her short pink a moment there was little else but that, the sound of Tonks deeper breathing and the jack-hammering racket of Hermione's heart.

Then Voldemort spoke again, "You've been avoiding me."

Immediately Hermione bowed, her body so low her forehead touched the ground. "Forgive me, my Lord. I've been busy-"

"Too busy for me?"

Hermione shuddered as her skin prickled, "Never, of course. N-no. Not I. It was… the research. Your research and Madam Black's proposal-"

But her throat tightened, strangled on the truth. She had been avoiding her Lord through the consumption of work. In the weeks since Bellatrix's proposal and Voldemort's return to physical glory, Hermione had been singularly focused on achievements and duty and Luna's annoying meeting with the goblins. The fact that her Lord had similarly seemed occupied had given Hermione no cause to rush.

But Voldemort had not forgotten their brief conversation nor Hermione's near blunder. Perhaps, Voldemort did not appreciate the small percentage Hermione had risked with her sponsor-gift.

Hermione restructured her thoughts, "I… I really do not believe the ritual would have turned you into a snake-"

Voldemort interrupted her with a gravel like laugh, a sound so soft Hermione thought it melodic despite it's unnatural rise and fall.

"I do not believe Severus would have allowed you to utilize a faulty ritual, no, and yet I still find myself unsatisfied with the idea that there was risk at all."

The lantern lighting of the dining space flickered, Hermione's only warning before they abruptly stuttered, dimming one by one to the ominous sound of creaking walls. From the lean feminine paleness of Voldemort's new body stretched tendril-shadows that traced elaborate marble and brass curled chairs. Before Her, Tonks groaned, held only by the grip She maintained in her hair while Hermione turned wide-eyes to the ceiling that stretched tall and high above them, onward, endlessly, into lazy spiral patterns of twisted grey. From one moment to the next they went from dining room to something other, a realm beyond that carried the heavy weight of smoke and warm stone. It's cloying weight wriggled up Hermione's nostrils, nearing choking as it filled her lungs, but nothing felt more imposing than the sudden burden of the locket that tightened around her neck.

"But this is more than just that, being a snake." Voldemort spoke, but her lips barely moved, with tones that left Hermione's form quaking. "It's about duty to house, student, and the bonds that we've created. You and I are of Slytherin both, why leave room for imperfection?"

The shadows bunched beneath Voldemort's humble robes and Her wraith like shift bubbled over a new manifestation-a chair highlighted with tongues of silver. She crossed one leg over the other and released her grasp from Tonks head, an action the other seemed to regret if her pouting lower lip was any indication. Still, Voldemort no longer had eyes for her. Her attention stayed steady upon Hermione proper.

It was exhilarating and terrifying, to view Voldemort in this manner.

Some primal portion of her being, ancient and magic driven, drove her before Voldemort like a worm on her belly. Thoughtless, much like the night of the ritual, she sought out Voldemort's leg to endow the touch of her submission. Hermione's fingers tingled with sudden longing as she drew them along smooth calves-stationary and alien, unmoving.

Voldemort peered at her with a curious expression. "You fear me."

"Yes." Great Merlin yes.

"And covet me?"

Oh. Godrick. That too.

It was more than just Her flesh that bid Hermione to worship, it was the hum of their connection, buzzing and addictive. It was not something she'd experienced as a stationary Granger, the hovering heat that beat beneath her skin. It might have been the horcrux that pulsed against her chest or the ancient things-that-be that now bound them to one house, but the pressure in her belly bid her to indulge in a sudden obsession-different than the explosive fire she held for Bellatrix, not as deep and yet still somehow…

…a craving, just as wicked, for power.

She was hungry, another member wordlessly pleading with Voldemort to share.

"You aren't ready yet." Voldemort hummed, off-beat and haunted. "But I did say I'd teach you how to be."

For Hermione had become Her heir, after all.

"At the Ball you touched the ebb and flow of magic. Can you feel it here, that driving thing that compels us?'

Hermione had figured out for some time that they now occupied Voldemort's chambers, secluded from the grating flow of Malfoy Manor's general traffic, and yet… even there, awash in Voldemort's glow, Hermione felt individual connections. Tonks still knelt beside her, firmly bound by Voldemort's will but beyond them-above even-there existed many others to toy with.

But Hermione did not believe that was what their lesson was about.

"There are times when you'll want another to know, to feel every bit of your will consume them."

The cloying magic that existed within Hermione, the heat that stretched like a beast in her chest, pushed against her skin at the mere thought.

"Such alien need in your eyes, Hermione. To think that a member of the Golden Trio would succumb to this."

Hermione licked her lips, not offended.

Voldemort moved on, "But I intend for you to be much more graceful, to show you what it's like to truly hold dominion over another."

Hermione bobbed her head, even as dread wrestled with hunger. She swallowed painfully as the locket's chain grew heavier.

"You're so very cute, Ms. Granger, when you're unaware of danger."

Hermione did not have time to process that thought.

Voldemort tapped a single finger against Her armrest. "This is your horcrux, is it not?"

As if moving through a dream Hermione turned to look at Tonks. "It is."

Tonks trembled, just a possession.

Though no less cherished because of it.

"Yes. I can feel it too. Your soul, your magic, beats strongly within her. Burns her even."

The strange pressure of impending doom continued to knock at her bones in a way that made Hermione squirm. "M-my Lord?"

"Professor, for this, dear. Much more fitting." Voldemort drawled. "You shouldn't worry though. It's just that… something other allowed your soul to subsume her. She's so much more of you than she is of herself."

Hermione hissed through her teeth, but Tonks did not move. She remained somewhat slumped and empty-eyed on her knees. "I wouldn't have-I don't want her to be harmed."

"She hasn't been." Voldemort scratched one nail across her armrest, unmoved by Hermione's outburst. "She's just a bit fuller of you than herself. But more than that, she's very… connected."

The shadows around Voldemort continued their writhing, a grotesque and yet oddly sensual dance as She leaned forward with linked fingers. The red of Her eyes were soon back upon Hermione and Her resulting smile was wide and venomous.

"I'd like to start our lesson."

She snapped Her fingers.

Tonks jerked like a puppet on a string and blinked with fluttering lashes, startled by her surroundings. "W-wha-"

But it wasn't their surroundings that made Tonks stiffen, nor the fact that she'd noticed her nudity. It was the sudden, undeniable sweep of Voldemort's magic-a small wriggling thing pulse intention under her skin and…

No, not Hermione's skin. Tonks'.

"Do you feel that?" Voldemort said with a lift of a silver-tinged brow.

Hermione gasped out a sharp 'Yes' as Tonks shivered beside her.

"You've such a strong connection," Voldemort mused, "that the taste of your magic is nearly the same."

Hermione's heart sped.

Voldemort closed Her eyes with a soft exhale, indulgent. "Yes, I'd even say it was the same with just the smallest difference. How am I to know which Hermione is which?"

There's something sly and just shy of cruel in Voldemort's amused gaze, as if She were twisting the meaning of something Hermione had once learned from another woman with a shared soul. "It's almost as if your hands are the same. So, I doubt it matters which one I practice on, or teach, or punish."

Voldemort really had cared about the risk involved with becoming a snake.

She bid Tonks closer while Hermione remained frozen, incapable of movement through dread alone. Tonks, for her part, looked brave despite their circumstances, being an Auror had taught her a great deal about the unknown.

Or, being the daughter of a Black had cursed her to crave the sweet rush of danger.

"It has been some time since I've done this," Voldemort said with eyes still closed, "you'll have to forgive me for the delay."

Before Tonks could speak Voldemort twisted something, tugging on some deep portion of Hermione that dwelled within her. Tonks let out a sharp bark of discomfort and Hermione echoed it, symphonic. That could not have been good.

"How was that, my dear?" Voldemort muttered as She drew one sharp nail down the side of Tonks face.

With a shaking hand Hermione held it to her own cheek, feeling that sensation as if she were the one in Voldemort's careful embrace.

Tonks released sigh from parted lips, then furrowed her brow when Hermione echoed that too.

This was not good.

"Links of this nature are a curious thing. Susceptible if you aren't diligent. You've grown too close, haven't you Hermione? So close that with a little pressure it'd be very hard to exist separately."

"Professor…" Hermione whispered, anxious by the discovery. She had promised Andromeda that no harm would come to her daughter, but had the Black curse mixed twisted her intentions so horribly, or had her newness in fleshcrux creation tempted their fates?

Or had the otherness in that house tainted them both? She had so many questions and no time for answers.

"It's not too unusual," Voldemort offered, "it's natural, the merging, intensified by magic's recognition of your engagement."

Hermione had no idea what that truly meant.

"It means," Voldemort hissed with wicked pleasure, "that your Nymphadora will still be herself and you will be you-with just a little bit more of me. Her mind won't change, hasn't changed much."

Voldemort paused then, if only to release a wheezing laugh-so reminiscent of Bellatrix that it was unsettling. "Just not today!"

The room spun and some important metaphysical aspect of Hermione shifted two-steps to the left. When it returned things felt different, as if time had passed or she had slept.

She didn't believe she'd slept, she was still on Voldemort's floor.

But Tonks was…

Tonks was seated on the much taller Voldemort's lap, an odd vision in and of itself made more surreal by Tonks current nudity. Voldemort Herself seemed incredibly relaxed, slouched somewhat on Her throne as She watched Tonks intently. Magic, thick and blanketing, remained between them though some primal part of Hermione knew it wasn't directed at her.

And yet…

She still squirmed when it sought to invade Tonks directly, to irritate and tease the magic within her.

Tonks sat with hands balled into fists, wheezing and slick with sweat. Her skin was flushed, from her cheeks to her shivering belly and her half-open eyes were leveled on her-seeing but not truly seeing.

How long had Tonks been in that state? What in all Merlin had happened to them-

-heat struck violently between her legs. A sudden uncomfortable pounding that ripped forth craving. Something monstrous squirmed, unwelcome at her center-a warm sweet discomfort that made Hermione tremble. It's intensity was dizzying and foriegn, something experienced beyond her body and yet also within it.

Hermione's perception widened. She was not just within the boundary of her own aching flesh. Frustrating and heat-maddening and insistent-beat beneath another's skin. An echo is what assaulted her relentlessly, its tugging current so insistent it was if she were the one beneath the heavy pulse of Voldemort's magic.

But it was Tonks who bared the aggressive command, who bobbed in the sea of Voldemort's magic.

"How very disciplined you are, Nymphadora," Voldemort mused, "to withstand my call to frenzy and madness."

Upon Her lap Tonks swayed from the compliment and rasped in response, "I-it's Tonks. Th-thank you."

Hermione could taste the command in Voldemort's magic and knew that it drilled at the back of Tonks skull. The Black blood within her howled for surrender, to bow beneath the chilled addictive thrill that made them both burn. It felt good to drown in her Lord's essence, to succumb to the state of some mindless vassal meant to follow feudal order just for the ecstasy brought by olde and ancient service.

But Tonks was stubborn and so painfully loyal. Though her body burned with the heat of twisted desire-the call to do what was natural in wixxen order-she was of House Granger first and Slytherin second.

Hermione could feel Tonks dedication deep in her bones-along with the inferno of her need for that natural order. Were Hermione, herself, not crushed beneath the power of Voldemort's magical aura, she would have felt pride in Tonks ability.

As it was, she was hunched over, hands fisted between her legs in an attempt to stop the increasing pressure that came with Tonks disobeying the agonizing urge of her own magic.

Voldemort placed a single hand upon Tonks' thigh and both Hermione and Tonks groaned from shared euphoria.

"But I much more prefer your wixxen name," Voldemort clicked Her tongue against the back of Her teeth. "Won't you allow your Lord to call you by it?"

Tonks wheezed out a low keen and Hermione felt Tonks' own magic push her to accept that. Hermione felt heat roll through them both and knew that Tonks wouldn't complain about her name again.

Voldemort drew curious circles on the outside of Tonks' trembling thighs, impersonal in her exploration. Her expression was an unsettling void. Removed and dispassionate.

Tonks hands flexed as she snarled in her longing.

She would not last long within Voldemort's hold, teased and tormented by an unspoken demand. Hermione felt both empty and incredibly full, tipping toward willing to do whatever Voldemort bid them.

Yes, Voldemort and Narcissa both were far too good at absolute control.

"Do you know what makes this sort of magic dangerous?"

Hermione was unsure who Voldemort meant to address. Her gaze was on Tonks, but Her words were expertly pointed.

"The fact that it enhances your magic-driven needs and impulses, coaxing out obedience to our natural basic order." Voldemort held lecture while Hermione drowned in fever, "It pulls on the ebb and flow of our very being, the part within that makes you more than just human. So little can be done to stop it, the Imperius is nothing compared to the authority of our truest selves. And this? This locks it to our leash and collar. Creating gods out of the strong and willed."

Making naive children march to the beat of a Headmaster's drum.

Tonks lifted a trembling hand, panting as Voldemort held simple conversation. Hermione knew the unspoken order She'd given her, but her throat was tight with her own desire to listen. When Tonks fingers finally touched her glistening sex, Hermione felt bowled over by intoxicating emotion, by visions of nights spent writhing in ecstasy, of the bond tormenting Tonks just as it now tormented Hermione-

And how was Hermione to know Tonks felt the bond more strongly? That her desire and pull to Hermione had been driving her to madness, magic and mind? Voldemort had used Her magic unfairly, ripping that need to the surface until Hermione also craved to join with herself.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus, to remain in her body and maintain her own head, but Tonks' fingers were so well-practiced and satisfying, stroking along their shared folds while a thumb put just enough pressure on their clit.

Yes, yes, to finally be touched, to ease the desire to be one!

Voldemort looked at Hermione over Tonks' shaking shoulder, shark-like teeth on display due to Her inhuman smile. "You're little forays into magical manipulation are cute but rudimentary. My court is not to be toyed with, Hermione. If you cannot control yourself… I'll take it away."

Voldemort drew Her hand to Tonks' bobbing throat and held her writhing body to Her own tightly. Hermione felt the pressure there, the slight squeeze, and the silent demand of Her magic and she surrendered, trapped within Tonks' body.

There was little else to do but drown in it, that craving she'd carried in the make-up of her magic and marvel at the pleasure that buzzed and hummed through her, driven by Voldemort's urging. Fingers massaged her, stroked her, entered her, until she was little else than nerves and fantasies and wild wanting.

Oh and wouldn't that ruin something in her? To crave for touch from herself as strongly as Tonks did?

The locket against Hermione's chest burned and she fell onto her back, writhing.

It didn't matter. Tonks was close. She was close. Riled up by Tonks hands on their body until the throbbing throughout turned painful, sharp, and stabbing. Bliss mixed with the fever of painful longing, with the emptiness that could only be momentarily slated but never completely fulfilled. Tonks hurt in a way Hermione wasn't properly solving and the bond demanded more and more and more-'

Until something snapped within Tonks and they both drowned, overwhelmed by the burst of magic-laced tension with harmonic moans.

But even as it faded something still boiled in Tonks blood, a restless energy that haunted them.

"It's very balancing when I maintain order. Don't you think?" Voldemort said.

Hermione could only pant in response.

"But I don't quite think balance has been maintained yet. After all, you managed to gain quite a lot at your little Ball, using our poor citizens for your practice. Riling them up in the games you play with Ms. Umbridge."

Hermione certainly did not think them games and opened her mouth to say as such-

But Tonks sudden moan and renewed hunger made Hermione forget what she'd meant to say.

"But true practice, real experience, can only be gained when you are willing to fall into the very delirium you inspire in your followers." Against Tonks shoulder Voldemort smiled, "That's how you separate the students from the professors."

Tonks closed her eyes and succumbed to her need and Hermione could do nothing but follow her back into the ecstasy of their shared senses against the backdrop of Voldemort's melodic laughter.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Hermione woke with the buzz of desire and dark magic against the back of her tongue.

Oh. And her Lord hovering over her.

"I hope you learned something important Hermione." Voldemort's lips moved but the words didn't quite match Her lips. They rumbled through Hermione's ears with an odd slickness that reminded her of things that crawled in the night.

Please let that have been the Queen's English.

"Do not think yourself more clever than your Head of House."

"Y-yes, my Lord." She replied with odd moving lips, unaware that her syllables weren't exactly right.

Voldemort looked positively delighted-that was bad.

"Call me, Tommi sometimes, Hermione." Voldemort rumbled, like a gathering storm, "You've earned the right."

"T-tommi?" Hermione croaked with an awkward tongue that felt odd and too long.

Voldemort made a please sound, already out of Hermione's sight. "Good girl."

Hermione suppressed a shiver of pleasure.

"Run along, Ms. Granger. Alecto Carrow has been waiting a long time for my presence. Send her to the Malfoy library. I'll join her shortly."

With shaking limbs Hermione quickly rose to her feet, noticing Tonks was already by the strange door to the exit, flushed and grinning like a well-fed cat.

"Oh." Voldemort noted suddenly, "Do make sure you speak properly to Ms. Carrow. I'm certain she doesn't understand Parseltongue."

When Hermione whipped around to face Voldemort with terror on her tongue, She was…

Gone.

Fuck.