Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry I left you on a cliffie, but it had to be done. Here's another chapter!
Chapter 33
She came out of the potion-induced sleep slowly. Everything was hazy, and she could find a coherent thought for the life of her. Finally, a single thought made he first thing she did was touch her abdomen. The protrusion was still there, still firm. Did that mean the twins were okay?
Her eyes blinked open, fighting the side-effects of the potent brew she'd been fed. She was on the same bed she'd remembered before her black-out, covered by the blankets beside her hands. One on her slight baby bump, the other inside the warm hands of Voldemort. She turned to find his eyes on her, waiting and pained.
"Are they alright?" she rasped.
She didn't need to elaborate, he knew. He ran his thumb over her knuckles soothingly. "Any damage done is temporary. They needed to monitor you closely and keep you under for the past few days to ensure that you will not seize again, but now … You'll need to stay in bed for the next week to make sure the placenta doesn't detach prematurely. If after the week nothing goes wrong, then they tell me you'll be safe. That blood-boiling curse did a number on you as well."
"It didn't hurt the children?" Hermione murmured, disbelieving. "It's been days?"
Voldemort kissed her knuckled tenderly, comfortingly. It was an intimate gesture that she knew was only now coming out because of her frail condition, but it didn't mean any less to her. "Just under five, actually. I'm so sorry, little witch."
"But everything's alright," Hermione said, uncomprehending.
He shook his head. "I had forgotten the danger you'd be in if any of the properties were breached. While you are carrying my children, such oversight is unforgiveable. From now on, if you get pulled to an estate I want you to use that spell I taught you to bring me to you. I want to be there from the beginning."
"I thought the whole point of, er, the binding was to have that happen," Hermione frowned. "I was just doing what you wanted."
With a sigh, Voldemort heaved himself from the chair next to her bed and sat next to her on the bed instead, using the new seat as a tactical position to hold her in his arms. She didn't stop him from curling around her, nor from taking a calming breath in her hair. She simply waited, on edge, for him to admit what they'd both been denying.
"I do not want you hurt ever again," he murmured in her hair. "I will not allow anything to happen to you, little witch, my dear Hermione."
"Why?" she prodded, hoping beyond hope that maybe he was hinting to what she felt too. "Why do you care?"
His grip on her tightened, and she knew he was conflicted by himself. She pulled herself up in his arms and looking into his tense face. "Do you love me?"
When the words left her mouth, the man's body crinkled. His face fell in pain and anguish, and he turned himself from her. For the first time, of her own volition, Hermione moved forward and pressed a gentle, tender kiss to his lips. His eyes snapped back open to her as she pulled away, and finally she got the reaction she needed from him. The fierceness in his eyes.
"I thought you would die, witch," he seemed to fight within himself to remain calm and collected. "I couldn't feel your magic, I couldn't feel anything but your heartbeat for the longest time. The healers believed you were diverting all your magic to my children, keeping them alive with your very life force. In that moment … yes, I would have given up all hope for heirs to feel you again."
Hermione put her hands on both sides of his face. "Say it. Say you love me."
"You know how I feel about declarations, witch," he warned lowly.
She glared. "It is not a bad thing. Does it feel like a bad thing?"
Voldemort regarded her with pain-filled eyes. "I have never felt as weak as I did when you were unconscious."
"It's not about feeling strong," she encouraged gently. "Tell me you'll be able to love our children like a father should. Tell me you're capable of feeling more than simple pain or pleasure. That you can feel love, even just a little. That you can be a real man, instead of a monster. Please. Do you love me?"
He took a breath, looking her in the eyes as she begged him. Finally, she watched as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I do not believe in the power of love, and I do not believe it is the strength Dumbledore insists it is," he said strongly. "There is nothing advantageous about it."
"It doesn't have to be," Hermione told him. "It isn't meant to be the most logical thing, but when everyone feels it It's often the very hardship that brings the greatest change, though, and without it society would stagnate."
He raised his head and glared at her. "You do not make it easy to love you, witch. Why can I not shake it?"
She grinned. He did. He loved her. And that was as much of a confession as she could get out of him. "Probably because we're compatible. It would explain why I can't shake it either."
Voldemort looked ready to burst at her words, and cupped her jaw. "Say it. Say it for me."
She hid a smirk. "You never said it, though. Why do I need to say it first?"
He growled and drew her in for a kiss. It wasn't the lustful ones from before, done simply in the heat of the moment. It was passionate, possessive. It was just for her.
"I have come to love everything about you, little witch," he murmured against her lips. "Against my previous inclinations, I find loving you to be unavoidable. Every time you open that smart mouth of yours and defy me, I think about having you in my life every day. You drive me to distraction."
"Loving you is no picnic either," Hermione said breathily, bestowing more kisses upon his lips. "I must be insane, probably with Stockholm Syndrome or something."
He detached his lips from her neck to look at her with gleaming eyes. "It was supposed to be praise only, Hermione."
She blushed. "Sorry, Tom."
He stiffened and pulled away, glaring. "Do not start using that name."
"It feels weird taking Voldemort to bed," Hermione protested. "Why can't I use Tom?"
He huffed and pulled her close. "You are lucky, witch, that I feel kind right now. I've killed people for using that name."
"Why?"
"You won't let it go, will you?" he remanded sharply. She glared back, unyielding. He rolled his shoulder's back, clearly trying to dislodge the tension that had gathered there. "I was named after my horrid muggle father. As he refused to acknowledge his own son, I do not think I should acknowledge his name. Do you?"
She shook her head. "So, you renamed yourself as a terrible incarnation of death because you'd rather have been named Richard?"
She couldn't hide her giggle. It was horrible to laugh at your own jokes, but the picture of Voldemort named something so mundane and formal was just … wrong. He didn't make it easier with his sour expression, and her giggles escalated. She just couldn't help it. When Voldemort succumbed as well, his deep laugh mixing with her side-splitting guffaws, the waves of laughter rolling through both of them made the topic seem less menacing.
Her giggles started to subside with Voldemort's.
"I'm sorry," she apologized with a bright smile. "Just, I don't think anyone could re-name you anything else now. It'd be to strange."
He let loose a final chuckle before sweeping her off her knees and setting her on the bed, her head resting in the crook of his arm. "Little witch, if it weren't for your delicate condition, I'd ravage you right this moment. I want to know the feel of you laughing while my cock is buried deeply inside you." She flushed. "For tonight, though, know that I desire you and will stay by your side."
"Will you be here every evening this week?" Hermione pleaded. "I might just die of boredom if I go without school and your conversation for that long."
He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers. "It would be my great pleasure."
Every night she'd sit with tea, barely moving around the room because she'd worried about her children. The swelling was accelerating now, after three months in. She had become hungrier and less nauseous before the curse got her, and she was now growing rapidly. At sixteen weeks she was now extended to the point where if she didn't hunch, it would be obvious that it wasn't a weight gain. The belly extended to the same point off her body as he breasts, which were also growing. When she returned to school, everyone would see.
Voldemort kept her another week on top of what they agreed, not convinced she was alright.
"I can go back!" she protested. "I'm already a week behind in assignments, I can't miss anymore!"
"I will have Severus collect them for you if it means you will stay here, safe, for just a week longer," he insisted. "Your exams aren't for another month and a half, witch, you will be caught up soon. But I need you to stay. I'm formally announcing your pregnancy this week."
She gaped. "What?"
"They will see it soon, regardless," he trailed his hand over her protruding stomach. "There'll be no hiding it. Does that make you nervous?"
She bit her lip. "Well, I guess they've all heard already from their kids."
His brow lifted. "The school is … aware?"
"Professor Slughorn thought he'd announce I was hormonal in the middle of potions," she huffed, glaring at him poignantly. "I'm sure the students will figure out what it means by the time I'm allowed back."
He tutted and took her face in his hands, his face kind but sharp. "Then you must stay, at least until the announcement. I want to know you and my children are out of danger."
She had melted at the show of caring and had relented to stay the whole week.
When the day of the announcement came, her magic was antsy, disturbed. Upon the third instance of zoning out in the middle of writing her essay, she gave up on it. Hermione sighed. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones. To distract herself, she readied in the form-fitting white gown that Voldemort had selected for her. He did not want to hide the belly she now sported little less than halfway through her pregnancy, and since they were announcing it he decided she should have it fully exposed. The straps crossed under her breasts and held the fabric concealing them there, but the wrapped around the back to hold up the skirt, leaving her pregnant stomach exposed. She looked like a sexed-up portrait of the virgin Mary in the dress, but it was how he wanted to portray her.
The niggling in her mind was still there after her preparations, and so she closed her eyes. She focused on her magic, on the feelings she was having. She had read that pregnant women had random magical outbursts and she was determined to use the training Voldemort had given her to ensure it didn't happen.
She felt around her magic, searching the well-rounded veil that covered her mind, probing for the issue. She was accustomed to the loud swell of magic that came with all his followers coming to the manor, but it wasn't that. It was a specific niggling in her magic. Then, she realized, it wasn't her magic having the issue, it was two of her bonds. Malfoy and Severus. They were here, and together.
She had ignored their bonds with her whenever they were near, because she had to be around him so often. But now, their bonds weren't within the Hogwarts wards. They were here. Malfoy, why was Malfoy with him? He'd abandoned Voldemort, he'd come with her. She focused; he was in the ballroom. How long had he been there!? She'd been feeling antsy for hours, so how long could he have been hurt and captured. Determinedly, she apparated to the ballroom.
Gasps and little words were exchanged at her appearance. Her pregnant form was clearly visible, and everyone could see it.
"Miss Granger, good of you to join us," Voldemort greeted as though he had planned on her being there. His eyes buried into hers and she presented him with the image of her return, her focus on his magics to justify her coming early. He smirked. "You are going to be revered, little witch. Come, join me."
He extended his hand to her and she accepted, moving forward to take it so he could use it to lead her to be stand at his side. Involuntarily, she placed a hand at her abdomen. The magic as they touched seemed to go straight to her children, more potent than it had ever been before. The motion did not go unnoticed by him, and he smirked knowingly. He had probably done it on purpose, the smug man.
Malfoy was there, standing off to the side with Severus, but there were more Death Eaters here than just them. It was like he had summoned every follower upon Malfoy's appearance. What was Severus planning with him? What was he doing here?
"I have an announcement of my own to make with regards to our plans. As you know, I take the concerns of my followers very seriously," he told the room. "It would not do for you to serve a cause you do not believe in, or to have a leader you do not trust. So when followers of mine expressed a concern for my continued legacy, for the line of Slytherin, I did not dismiss them.
"However, there were no women I could use for such an endeavor," he looked around at his followers, resting his eyes on Bellatrix, willing her in place. The embarrassment at his comment was evident to Hermione, making her flush. Voldemort had been propositioned by Bellatrix, to the point of her offering him children. The thought made her sick. "I needed a witch who also embraced the old magics to ensure the power of my offspring. And who should appear but a little witch, loved by my enemies, fertile, fresh from the aftermath of her own ritual, virginal, and who I needed to take in order to bind her to me."
Voldemort looked over his followers before turning to look at Hermione. "I wish to announce that in less than five months time, I am to be blessed with progeny of Slytherin blood, conceived on the eve of Miss Granger's binding and blessed by her virginal blood. And I vow to you, in honour of this momentous occurrence, that before they are born we will have Dumbledore in a grave and the Ministry under our command!"
A loud chorus of cheers. Hermione saw Draco and Severus clapping, but she didn't miss their disgust at Voldemort's description of impregnating her. It wasn't something she'd want any of her friends to hear, but she knew her lover well enough to know he was doing it specifically for his followers. He was emphasizing why she was the most powerful vessel for him children, not mentioning their continued intercourse past her binding or how unplanned it was. He was using it as a rally.
"Draco, come forward," Voldemort called. Malfoy moved to the center, just in front of the dais. Hermione noticed he was doing everything he could not to look at her. "You have proven yourself an ally of my Death Eaters, even though you did not wish to take my mark. Still, even after given the chance to betray your family you returned and have presented me with a plan to complete your tasks. When your task is complete, I should like to reward you."
Draco bowed. "Whatever you deem fit will be a generous gift, my Lord."
"Hmmm," Voldemort looked at him curiously. "Lucius certainly never had an issue naming his price. Do you not know what you want, Draco?"
His eyes widened. "Er, my Lord, if you are permitting me to name a gift, I do have something I want."
"This should be good," the death eaters elbowed each other, jeering. "What'll he want, a girl?"
Draco flushed, but stutteringly asked to approach Voldemort. Hermione was by his side as Draco came forward, clearly not wanting the other Death Eaters to hear.
He leaned forward and whispered to them. "My Lord, I do not want to of-f-fend you, but if I do my task, and it works, I would be honoured if y-you would free me from your service, and, er, if there's a way, remove the Dark Mark you gave me."
Hermione gasped. No wonder he didn't want the other Death Eaters to hear his request. They would have had his blood.
Voldemort, on the other hand, looked thoughtful. "Interesting request, Draco," he upraised the boy. Hermione didn't see a violent look in his eyes, but she needed to be sure. She couldn't' touch him or entreat him in front of his followers, but she sent her magic as a message for him. Voldemort's eyes flashed to hers as she begged with her eyes. "Very well."
Her eyes widened in shock as he called Lucius forward. "Friend, your son has requested that I allow him a reprieve from Death Eater duties so he can start learning more about your family's business ventures after his graduation. It pleases me that someone so young knows the value of properly funding our little endeavor, do you agree?"
Hermione and Draco shared a look of surprise. Voldemort was lying to his followers in order to give Draco his wish. He was being … kind.
Lucius bowed his head. "I'm pleased my lessons have taken, my Lord."
"Draco, you shall have your wish," Voldemort promised, eyes flashing. "The moment he dies, you will be given time to pursue your own interests. Just know, your family is loyal to me. If I call on you, I expect to be answered."
Draco gave him a small smile, clearly containing himself from the sheer relief of being free. "Of course, my Lord."
Hermione barely restrained herself from hugging Draco. As it was, she stayed by Voldemort's side until he finished the meeting, but learned nothing useful. He simply went over the guard placements around the palace, who would be involved in Draco's quest (which remained unnamed in her presence), and then gave only one additional assignment in whisper beyond her hearing. Her feet ached. When the end came, she was escorted out of the room by the Dark Lord and taken back to their room. It seemed like their new set of rooms was on the top floor.
"Did you know I'd pop up?" she asked him. "You didn't seem surprised."
"You always surprise me," he smirked. "In this case, however, I thought you'd be by Draco the instant he stepped onto the estate. I'm surprised at your restraint."
"I was working on homework," Hermione defended herself. "The wards were not my focus at the time."
He shook his head. "I forget how young you are, sometimes. It never occurred to me there would be other things occupying your mind but me."
"Narcissist."
He chuckled, but otherwise let her accusation rest. He knew she was completely correct, and he kind of had to be a narcissist in order to be a Dark Lord. But with that knowledge, it was remarkable that he had given up his grip on Draco.
"I appreciate what you did," she murmured seriously. He gave her an appraising look. "For Malfoy. He really is my friend, and I am very glad you didn't hurt him."
"Maybe that's why," Voldemort admitted. "I will keep my hooks in the young Malfoy heir, if only for finances, but I couldn't treat him like a follower while you divide his loyalties. He'll be spending the summer with you as you prepare for motherhood, and I will not have him be hostile or manipulative during that time."
She gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."
"My help was not just for you, love," he told her, a gleam in his eyes. "I have a task for you."
Her defenses were up automatically. "No."
"It's nothing offensive, little witch," he chided with a chuckle. "You don't even want to hear the way you can show your thanks?"
She glared. "You'll make Malfoy keep his Dark Mark if I don't, won't you?"
"I gave him my promise," Voldemort said self-importantly. "Really, little witch, there is nothing about this task that you will not enjoy. All I want is a new wand."
