Thank you for the reviews! Here's another LV/HG moment for all of you.

Chapter 31


It was a month into their silence, and Hermione was close to snapping. Voldemort still returned to their chambers well after she was asleep and staying later in the morning with no explanation. There was no change in the Ministry, no obvious signs of his work, and nothing she could pass on to the Order. She felt useless, discarded by both sides, and as well feeling bloated and tired from being thirteen weeks pregnant.

She was dressing in her school uniform when Voldemort called, "Stop."

She turned to him and saw him looking at her abdomen, his eyes wide as he took in her little protrusion. She had been shocked to see it start to becoming obvious the week prior, but seeing him looking at her like that, like she held everything of import, was thrilling after the lengthy silence. So when he motioned her forward silently, she obeyed, moving until she was directly in front of him.

With baited breath she watched Voldemort reach out and let his fingers graze her showing pregnancy with unexpected tenderness, so softly she could hardly feel it. It made her shudder in the pleasure she'd been hoping to garner from him for the past few weeks.

"Twins show earlier," she said, as if it would help the situation. At the confusion written on his face, she continued, "If it was only one, I might not show for another few weeks."

She watched his confusion replace with amusement, but then turn to concern. He moved his hand to cover her abdomen, tenderly, as if afraid it would break under his touch. "I'm having Narcissa Malfoy over this week."

Her heart clenched uncomfortably. He was touched her children through her skin, he was clearly awed by it, and he dared to bring up another woman. Was Narcissa the one he was spending his nights with before returning to her? She worked to contain her angry magic.

"Oh?" she huffed. "Why would you do that?"

"She knows every spell, potion, habit, or enhancement that can provide a healthy child," he told her. "She and Lucius had some … difficulty with producing an heir. It will be beneficial to have her check you over and provide you some assistance."

His unspoken promise, that he would do everything he could to ensure the health of their children, calmed her slightly. She forced herself to smile.

"Mrs. Malfoy would be welcome," Hermione allowed. "Is it only the one time?"

Voldemort sighed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the little pooch. "It would be better if you became acquainted with her now. She will be here frequently once the children are born, and I understand it may take some time for you to be amenable to the idea of having one of my followers nearby while you're vulnerable."

Hermione went through ten of the worst possible scenarios in her mind before settling on one. "Please tell me you're not giving them to Mrs. Malfoy."

His shocked look told her everything she needed to know and she sighed in relief. "I gave you my word that you will raise out children. I will not renege."

"I'm sorry, I just, I can't figure out why we'd have her here after they're born," Hermione explained haltingly. "Is she your Mistress or something?"

She had tried to make it sound like a joking inquiry, the kind you laugh at and deny easily. Instead, it came out bitterly and out of her control. She sounded just as angry as she felt, and it was obvious to any listening.

That brought Voldemort to a halt in his movements. His hands stilled on Hermione's developing belly.

"A Mistress?" he said, observing her. "Is that what you think?"

He stood to look into her eyes on equal footing. Hermione was briefly afraid when he grabbed the tops of her arms to keep her in place, but when he didn't make it a painful hold she forced herself to breathe and look at Voldemort's blue eyes.

"Well, since the bond isn't exactly a marriage, I suppose there would be another word for it," Hermione glared. "If we did have some sort of commitment, I would wonder why you all of sudden started staying in bed in the mornings. Or why you're never here in the evenings anymore. But, as you've made quite clear, we have no commitment between us."

She was aware of the shift in Voldemort's eyes. He was one moment inquiring and defensive, and the next angry.

"I have told you, you are MY wife," he bit. "I have claimed you, little witch. Do you think there's no commitment there? The bond we sealed ensures your fidelity to me until the day you die."

"You can't even call me my name," Hermione pointed out, angry. "I am Hermione, not little witch, not Miss Granger, HERMIONE. And you act like I don't know the all rules of our bond. I know that fidelity is only restricted to intercourse. I could be going around giving your Death Eaters head and you'd be none the wiser."

Though the thought made her nauseous, it had its intended effect on Voldemort. He looked livid. Enraged, he pinned her to the bedpost, his hands now on her wrists to restrain her from action. Good. No matter the pain from being shoved into the wood, it was better than feelings like he only cared about her existence because of the children in her womb. At least this way she could make him jealous too. At least he could feel a small part what it was like to have feelings for someone who would throw you aside if they could. At least he felt something for her.

"I will kill ANY man who dares touch you!" he spat. "You are MINE!"

"I'm not going to be owned by some man who will chuck me in the bin the minute I'm not good enough!" Hermione screeched. "Well, guess what, if you're not MINE, I refuse to be YOURS!"

She tried to push him off, but he held fast and furiously bent down to take his lips in hers. She moaned involuntarily, knowing it had been weeks since he'd last been intimate with her.

"I bet no other man can make you moan like that, Hermione," he growled. His shoved his hand down and grabbed her crotch, eliciting a gasp of pain and, strangely, pleasure. "This is mine." He move the hand to her breast, twisting and pinching her tender nipples with almost violent ferocity. She yelped. "These. Are. Mine." He covered her mouth with his once more. "You." His breath was ragged as he came away from devouring her, only to cover her lips with his again before pulling away with his own, matching moan. "You. Are. MINE!"

He finally let her push him back and onto the bed, her quickly positioning herself on top of him. She bent low, capturing his top lip with her teeth and scraping away, earning pleasured cries from her dark lover. "Then, Mr. Dark Lord," she ground into him, "You. Are. Mine."

"Jealous?" he flipped her, taking charge once again. She glared at his smug expression, and the man had the nerve to chuckle at her! "Oh, my little witch, let me tell you something."

He leaned low and captured her earlobe in his teeth, earning a gasp. He ground into her and she groaned.

"I have had no witch but you since I returned," he murmured low in her ear. "And I will have no others. You have ruined me for anyone else, little witch. So perfect, so beautiful, so passionate, so … fertile."

"Only you," Hermione gasped, her mind focused on the much needed relief.

Then, with a chuckle, Voldemort moved off her. She gasped a protest, sitting up in her intent to pull him back into the bed. At her instinctive action, she pulled herself up short. She was NOT a desperate woman, giving up any dignity for this man. She would get answers before letting him win anything.

"Yes?" Voldemort inquired, his face mocking. "Something to say, little witch? Feeling better?"

Hermione glared. "You git! It's not like my feelings matter to you, do they?"

"Of course they do," he insisted. "You carry my children!"

"Oh, really, you care because of your heirs? The day after you found out about the children, you stopped caring about me entirely!" She accused. "This is the first time you've acknowledged me, touched me, in weeks!"

Her accusations left Voldemort silent, considering. "And this – my absence – is why you worry I wander?"

Hermione nodded, her heart in her throat. It was a vulnerability she couldn't afford with him, but there was no other way that could make him see that she missed him. She hated the feeling of giving up further power to him, but … he already had it all.

He bent low and, in a show of tenderness, stroked her face. He brushed from her temple to her jaw, his eyes assessing her response. She couldn't help but lean into his hand, earning a small smile.

"Hermione," he sighed, "whatever you desire, I will give it to you. You need only tell me."

Hermione sighed as well. "And I would never ask a Dark Lord for anything. So where does that leave us?"


Her words had affected him more than he thought it would. He had been deliberately avoiding spending time with Miss Granger since he'd realized his own feelings for the girl, but he had been unable to rid the troublesome feelings from his system. Then for her to say she'd missed him too, that his avoiding her made her worry, it made him glad. Glad that maybe the girl he'd come to adore like a goddess might have come to care for him, even want him. She aggravated him, to be sure, but it merely made him want her more.

She was looking up at him with her eyes tragic. If there was something she was trying to convey, it was lost within the surge of emotions she was instilling in him. The simple look was enough to make his want to give her everything. He wanted to take her and hold her, take that look from her eyes and replace it with lust.

"So where does that leave us?"

"Demand it of me," he ordered. "Do not ask, that is for those beneath you. You, of everyone, have the right to demand things of me. What must I do to please you?"

She gave him a mischievous smile that excited his blood and shortened his breath. It was enticing.

"So, if I demanded that you come back to bed and finish what you started?"

That sly tilt of the head, as if daring him to refuse her, brought a chuckle to his lips. He leaned down and captured her wonderful lips in his, sampling their softness for his own and devouring her like she wished. Before she could pull him on top of her, he pulled away.

"Unfortunately, sweetling, you insisted on continuing with classes," he pointed out, eyes twinkling. "And as the general public does not know you are currently living with the Dark Lord Voldemort, it would not do to draw attention to yourself by missing your first period. Unless you've reconsidered …?"

Hermione groaned, but nodded and left the bed, finishing buttoning her blouse and fixing her skirt. She looked so innocent and unassuming, but he knew she was vicious and glorious when he started with her. She would not go wanting. So, Voldemort came behind her, slipping a hand under her skirt as she moaned.

"However …" he breathed in her ear as he circled to pull her back to him, his finger finding her most sensitive and pleasurable center. "That does not mean I cannot allow you some relief. I could, selflessly, allow you to come."

"Yes," Hermione gasped, leaning against him.

He chuckled low in her ear, sending delicious shivers up her spine. "Not the word I had in mind, little witch."

She knew what he wanted, and he wouldn't give in unless she did first. He waited, slowly teasing until she couldn't resist a moment longer. "Please."

When he had finished her she was already too late to attend her first hour, but her jealousy was forgotten. He had snickered as she hurriedly dressed after their encounter, but he felt better than he had in week. It might be alright, liking the little witch. So long as she never found out.


That weekend, she was introduced to Narcissa Malfoy.

The Lady Malfoy glided into the room, different entirely from her persona around her husband that Hermione had seen in the French gardens. Her persona spoke volumes of grace, power, and danger. Her eyes were disinterested and gentle until they reached another human being, where they turned razor-sharp and analyzing, probing for weakness.

"My Lady," she bowed her head deferentially.

She gaped as the proud woman greeted her. Voldemort smirked at her from behind the strong heiress, knowing exactly what was going through her head.

"Little witch, you know Narcissa Malfoy," he introduced. "Narcissa, I don't need to tell you how vital it is that you keep secret just who is pregnant with my heirs, at least for now?"

"Of course not, my Lord," Narcissa bowed.

Voldemort nodded. "Very well then. I am concerned about Miss Granger's age and the added complications of having two to bear. I understand that first-time pregnancies can be … taxing, and unsuccessful. I hoped you would be able to help her in making the best of her condition."

"Two?" Narcissa looked her up and down, upraising Hermione with now a deep look of concern. "What have you done so far?"

She grimaced. "I've read a few books, so I know what to expect."

"Potions? Vitamins?" The Lady Malfoy demanded, circling her.

"Anti-nausea," Hermione told her. "Professor Snape puts it in my rooms every week so I ca take it when I apparate to school. I sent in a muggle order for some vitamin pills and they should arrive this week."

Voldemort gave her a look of contempt at that. "And you did this at Hogwarts, little witch?"

She nodded firmly. She'd specifically done it without his knowledge, choosing to rely on muggle means. If Hermione was born with the use of muggle vitamins, they were certainly good enough for her children. Voldemort could huff and puff all he wanted.

Narcissa Malfoy sighed audibly. "Really, Miss Granger, you should have begun taking them the moment you became aware. And muggle medicines? You have a perfectly acceptable Potions Master at Hogwarts, and at your Lord's disposal. The Malfoys, in fact, have their own recipe to ensure health of both mother and child which we will lend to Severus. As it stands, you are terribly thin and clearly suffering for your stubbornness. Are you eating?"

Hermione nodded slowly. At Narcissa's disbelieving face, she amended the nod with a, "Well, I eat. But I throw it up every morning when I apparate to school, and sometimes when I eat lunch at school."

"Your evening meals must be large and protein rich, then," Narcissa ordered. "If those are the times when you can keep down your food, those are the times you must eat more. Although ginger tea in the morning might help."

"Yes, sergeant," she mocked, earning a reproachful gaze from the matriarch and a gleeful smirk from Voldemort.

"Lie down," Narcissa ordered. "I'm going to teach you a few healer-specialized spells, and a few from the Black and Malfoy lines, that will help you understand your babies' needs."

She gave me a complete set of spells that I could use on the baby, many of them which could be used only for the first two terms and then a few that she would continue to use for the final trimester. This was for daily use to ensure that Hermione produced magically powerful and healthy offspring.

It was entrancing, watching her body light up specifically from her child. She was, understandably, dehydrated and in need of some good protein for the baby, but other than that was in full health. The house-elf popped back into the room with the requested protein drink before the Lady Malfoy turned from her.

"Now, my Lord, you had another request for me?" Narcissa said, not even bothering to dismiss Hermione.

"Ah, yes," Voldemort affirmed. "Firstly, a token of my thanks for helping me in this matter."

He produced a small vial for Narcissa, who looked at it as if it were the most valuable thing in the world. It might well have been, but neither of them explained its significance as the woman took the vial tenderly in her hands.

"My deepest thanks for this great gift, my lord," Narcissa bowed more deeply than she had at the start. "What additional task can I do for you to show my gratitude?"

"Lucius has often bemoaned your fate, Narcissa," the Dark Lord said gently, as if caressing a delicate thought. "He has also, quite often, sung your praises in how you raised your son."

"He is too generous with his praise," she murmured lowly, somewhat pained.

Voldemort gave her a smirk. "No doubt, my dear. However, I am loathe to leave Miss Granger alone once she resides here permanently. I fear she will deplete herself, and the two of them will cause too much trouble for her after her birth. Perhaps you would like to assist her? She may enjoy having your company for the summer."

Narcissa gave the smallest expression, that Hermione might have said was shock if she knew the woman better. "You trust me with your heirs, my Lord?"

"You could never harm a child, Narcissa," the Dark Lord remarked fondly. "I want you to remain at hand until Miss Granger feels comfortable on her own with them. It may take some healing after their birth for her to keep up with the demands of two, potentially powerful magical progeny of mine, not even considering the inane powers many twins seem to exhibit early on. She could use a hand, if you would oblige me."

Narcissa looked overjoyed, even though it was muted by her stoic expression. "It would be an honour, my Lord. But Lucius and Draco …"

"You will all be my guests, of course," he waved away her concern. "I will be keeping Draco close for the summer at any rate. If Miss Granger likes, the three of you could be her company while I enact our plans."

At that they both shot her a look. Voldemort's was one of teasing and mirth, well aware that she would wonder what his plans were. Narcissa's seemed more … hopeful? She wasn't sure she was right, but maybe she was hoping for an extended invitation for her husband and son. That she could deal with a lot better than the smug look on Voldemort's.

"Draco's a friend," Hermione told the matriarch somewhat hesitantly. "If your husband behaves, I have no problem with being in your family's company."

Narcissa bowed her head gratefully. "That is kind, my Lady."

"I have no doubt I'll be kept isolated," she glared at Voldemort who just nodded as if the accusation wasn't damning, "so it will be nice to have company."

"It's settled," Voldemort interjected. "Narcissa, thank you so much for coming, but I have many things to do today that require my personal attention. May I show you out?"

They walked off together, making Hermione growl a little in jealousy. She knew it was ridiculous, but Narcissa was beautiful and regal, and a true queen in whatever room she entered. It felt wrong to let any man she was attracted to spend time with her.

So, with a sigh, she wrapped her robe around her and apparated away, once again off to Ollivander's hideaway. Why couldn't things be normal?