...sitting in a high backed chair, wand drawn, looking joyfully evil, was
Voldemort.
"Ah, Miss Granger, or should I say Riddle, so nice of you to grace us with your presence." Hermione glared at him, much to his amusement. "Not accustomed to your name yet are you? Well that will all change my dear. Very soon, don't you worry."
"What do you mean?" She asked, thoroughly bewildered. She thought Lucius brought her here because Voldemort wanted to kill her, not play games. What the hell was going on?
"You thought you were brought here so I could kill you, didn't you?" He laughed at her confused expression, oh how he was enjoying this! And it would only get better. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid I have something much worse in mind. Much worse indeed." She felt a chair rush up behind her and knock her into it. It was a red leather chair, much like the one Voldemort was sitting in. "Have a seat. Lucius, I would like a private word with my granddaughter." Lucius, who was near the doorway bowed and left silently. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, your punishment." Hermione felt a shiver up her spine.
"What could possibly be worse than death?" She asked, without really thinking about who she was talking to, the one person who knew many different ways to kill someone without actual death. But all reason left her brain the moment she found the Malfoy's in her living room.
"There are so many things beyond your wildest imagination that are worse than death. Yet to so many of us, we would rather live and watch every good thing around us die, than to die ourselves. While we watch our friends and loved ones decay, so does our inner self, until all that is left is a shell to encase the soulless soul. I consider myself fortunate. I have no one who is dear to me, so living and watching others die suits me well, don't you think? Death is my one fear, yet it is what I fear I will never overcome. But you, my dear granddaughter, you will help me achieve this goal. You shall overcome death for me!" All while, he was fingering his wand in a most malicious way. Hermione looked at him closely. His dark, almost snake-slit eyes, the pale skin surrounding them, his invisible eyebrows, his small pointed nose, dominate chin. He reminded her of Michael Jackson, the famous black-turned-white muggle singer. It was almost amusing if it wasn't for the fact that he was real and she wasn't in a dream.
"And what makes you think that I will even want to help you? You sick, evil, vile, twisted snake of a man!" Voldemort smirked at her, the resemblance between his smirk and the Malfoy smirk was indistinguishable.
"What else is there for you to do? Stuck in the house of your enemy, friends out of reach, parents gone. There's no one here for you to turn to. I am your only hope. Your only family, Hermione. You are my granddaughter. I am asking you to trust me, believe in the blood of family. Do you really think that I would harm one of my own blood?"
"You killed your own father. Why should I believe that you wouldn't harm me?"
He stood, sending another chill down her spine. His eyes boring holes into hers, for once, they were rid of they're evil, and replaced by something else, something more, like grief, or another emotion foreign to him. Slowly he walked over to her, eyes never leaving, she shrunk into her chair as far as she could. Time seemed to stand still for the two of them. Hermione, lost in fear, and Voldemort, lost in memories. His long, spider-like finger grazed her cheek; it was icy cold to the touch and sent a permanent chill through her body. His eyes never left hers.
"You look so much like your father, a rare trait in many families, magic and muggle. Yet you have your mother's eyes. I will never forget those eyes. So full of hate, of me, of my son, everything about us." Hermione pushed him away and jumped out of the chair, catching him by surprise.
"You have some nerve! Kidnapping me! Erasing my parents memory! Then you sit there and tell me that I'm going to help you! Because you're all I have left? What kind of bullshit is that? And to top it all off, you bring up my real parents, whom you killed! Telling me how much she loathed you and your son because of what you did to her. Well, I don't blame her! I hate you too! And if my eyes remind you of that hate she felt for you, then I hope they haunt you until your dying day!"
He pointed his wand at her, "Impedimenta!" Hermione flew backwards into the shelves behind her. His eyes glared, refreshed with his evil hate that constantly dwelled in them. "You will never speak to me in that tone or the consequences shall be severe. You don't want me angrier than I already am, you understand, Miss Riddle?" Hermione stood up and felt a trickle of blood down the nape of her neck, her head was bleeding. Hell, it could've been worse, she could be dead. Her one fear. Death. Funny how he shared the same fear, only in a different sense, still you only live once, yet you die forever.
"You self-righteous bastard! You think that just because you threaten me with pain and undying torture that I would succumb to your every wish, like the rest of your scurvy dogs. Well, you picked the wrong witch to piss off! I will not lay down and become Lord Voldemort's doormat. There is nothing you can say or do that will make me betray Harry, Ron, or Dumbledore. Torture me, rape me, kill me! Do whatever you want. I won't be your slave!" She lunged for him, yet he was faster, "Crucio!" He cursed. Hot knives seared and ripped at her skin, yet no visible damage was done. Hermione crumpled to the floor, shrieking in pain, hoping someone in this insane asylum would hear her and rush in and stop this madness. As unlikely as that would be. He released her out of his fury, he couldn't kill her yet. She was vital to his plans, she was incredibly vital and was not to be harmed. He had one choice left.
"I hoped it wouldn't come down to this, yet you leave me no choice." Kicking her over onto her back, he levitated her back to her chair, binding her there. Pulling out a small vial of red liquid, he placed in of the desk, uncorked. Then raised his wand and began, "Quod vir vurbum loqui, sic voluntus as posse." A silver haze surrounded the two, stemming from his wand. "I, Tom Malvolo Ridde, Lord Voldemort, do hereby name this woman, Hermione Adrienne Riddle, as my heir. In fortune, in title, in thoughts, in mind, and in life. Once this body is deceased, my soul shall live on in hers until my work is complete and the gods call me home. Sic vurbum ego, sic voluntus as posse." As he said these things, the silver mist was infused within her body. She could feel something search within her and join with another. An explosion of cold radiating her body as the mist cleared and she could see clearly. From what seemed like far away, she heard him say,
"It is done. You are my heir." And she fell unconscious to the floor.
A/N: Here's chapter 3!!! I would really enjoy some reviews please!! I love them! Hope you like the story so far. I'm not sure how long I'm gonna make it, hopefully not too long. Anyway, Read and Review!
"Ah, Miss Granger, or should I say Riddle, so nice of you to grace us with your presence." Hermione glared at him, much to his amusement. "Not accustomed to your name yet are you? Well that will all change my dear. Very soon, don't you worry."
"What do you mean?" She asked, thoroughly bewildered. She thought Lucius brought her here because Voldemort wanted to kill her, not play games. What the hell was going on?
"You thought you were brought here so I could kill you, didn't you?" He laughed at her confused expression, oh how he was enjoying this! And it would only get better. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid I have something much worse in mind. Much worse indeed." She felt a chair rush up behind her and knock her into it. It was a red leather chair, much like the one Voldemort was sitting in. "Have a seat. Lucius, I would like a private word with my granddaughter." Lucius, who was near the doorway bowed and left silently. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, your punishment." Hermione felt a shiver up her spine.
"What could possibly be worse than death?" She asked, without really thinking about who she was talking to, the one person who knew many different ways to kill someone without actual death. But all reason left her brain the moment she found the Malfoy's in her living room.
"There are so many things beyond your wildest imagination that are worse than death. Yet to so many of us, we would rather live and watch every good thing around us die, than to die ourselves. While we watch our friends and loved ones decay, so does our inner self, until all that is left is a shell to encase the soulless soul. I consider myself fortunate. I have no one who is dear to me, so living and watching others die suits me well, don't you think? Death is my one fear, yet it is what I fear I will never overcome. But you, my dear granddaughter, you will help me achieve this goal. You shall overcome death for me!" All while, he was fingering his wand in a most malicious way. Hermione looked at him closely. His dark, almost snake-slit eyes, the pale skin surrounding them, his invisible eyebrows, his small pointed nose, dominate chin. He reminded her of Michael Jackson, the famous black-turned-white muggle singer. It was almost amusing if it wasn't for the fact that he was real and she wasn't in a dream.
"And what makes you think that I will even want to help you? You sick, evil, vile, twisted snake of a man!" Voldemort smirked at her, the resemblance between his smirk and the Malfoy smirk was indistinguishable.
"What else is there for you to do? Stuck in the house of your enemy, friends out of reach, parents gone. There's no one here for you to turn to. I am your only hope. Your only family, Hermione. You are my granddaughter. I am asking you to trust me, believe in the blood of family. Do you really think that I would harm one of my own blood?"
"You killed your own father. Why should I believe that you wouldn't harm me?"
He stood, sending another chill down her spine. His eyes boring holes into hers, for once, they were rid of they're evil, and replaced by something else, something more, like grief, or another emotion foreign to him. Slowly he walked over to her, eyes never leaving, she shrunk into her chair as far as she could. Time seemed to stand still for the two of them. Hermione, lost in fear, and Voldemort, lost in memories. His long, spider-like finger grazed her cheek; it was icy cold to the touch and sent a permanent chill through her body. His eyes never left hers.
"You look so much like your father, a rare trait in many families, magic and muggle. Yet you have your mother's eyes. I will never forget those eyes. So full of hate, of me, of my son, everything about us." Hermione pushed him away and jumped out of the chair, catching him by surprise.
"You have some nerve! Kidnapping me! Erasing my parents memory! Then you sit there and tell me that I'm going to help you! Because you're all I have left? What kind of bullshit is that? And to top it all off, you bring up my real parents, whom you killed! Telling me how much she loathed you and your son because of what you did to her. Well, I don't blame her! I hate you too! And if my eyes remind you of that hate she felt for you, then I hope they haunt you until your dying day!"
He pointed his wand at her, "Impedimenta!" Hermione flew backwards into the shelves behind her. His eyes glared, refreshed with his evil hate that constantly dwelled in them. "You will never speak to me in that tone or the consequences shall be severe. You don't want me angrier than I already am, you understand, Miss Riddle?" Hermione stood up and felt a trickle of blood down the nape of her neck, her head was bleeding. Hell, it could've been worse, she could be dead. Her one fear. Death. Funny how he shared the same fear, only in a different sense, still you only live once, yet you die forever.
"You self-righteous bastard! You think that just because you threaten me with pain and undying torture that I would succumb to your every wish, like the rest of your scurvy dogs. Well, you picked the wrong witch to piss off! I will not lay down and become Lord Voldemort's doormat. There is nothing you can say or do that will make me betray Harry, Ron, or Dumbledore. Torture me, rape me, kill me! Do whatever you want. I won't be your slave!" She lunged for him, yet he was faster, "Crucio!" He cursed. Hot knives seared and ripped at her skin, yet no visible damage was done. Hermione crumpled to the floor, shrieking in pain, hoping someone in this insane asylum would hear her and rush in and stop this madness. As unlikely as that would be. He released her out of his fury, he couldn't kill her yet. She was vital to his plans, she was incredibly vital and was not to be harmed. He had one choice left.
"I hoped it wouldn't come down to this, yet you leave me no choice." Kicking her over onto her back, he levitated her back to her chair, binding her there. Pulling out a small vial of red liquid, he placed in of the desk, uncorked. Then raised his wand and began, "Quod vir vurbum loqui, sic voluntus as posse." A silver haze surrounded the two, stemming from his wand. "I, Tom Malvolo Ridde, Lord Voldemort, do hereby name this woman, Hermione Adrienne Riddle, as my heir. In fortune, in title, in thoughts, in mind, and in life. Once this body is deceased, my soul shall live on in hers until my work is complete and the gods call me home. Sic vurbum ego, sic voluntus as posse." As he said these things, the silver mist was infused within her body. She could feel something search within her and join with another. An explosion of cold radiating her body as the mist cleared and she could see clearly. From what seemed like far away, she heard him say,
"It is done. You are my heir." And she fell unconscious to the floor.
A/N: Here's chapter 3!!! I would really enjoy some reviews please!! I love them! Hope you like the story so far. I'm not sure how long I'm gonna make it, hopefully not too long. Anyway, Read and Review!