DISCLAIMER: HP belongs to JKR. The storyline, all new characters, new character development, new developments are my intellectual property. Glorioux
The other is more intense with time travel.
The end of the War- My daughter-My Love
Nurenberg Deutschland, Weinachten Markt 1978-
Love
"The one pleased is I, my lady." He offered his arm again and carried her packages with his other hand. Two of his flunkies saw him, and the look he gave them told them to go away, or they'd pay with their lives. Nevertheless, they took notice, the young beauty must be someone special. One of the two sniffed the air, a familiar scent, where? It was too crowded, hard to tell.
"Look, there, it is Bellatrix, let's keep her busy, our Lord seems happy, that is a first." They hurried after her.
Voldemort managed to move her hand down and held her hand. He felt a trickle of sweat down his back. His desire for her was making his body burn. He took her to an illuminated site street and stopped at the door of his hotel, an elegant and exclusive Muggle establishment with suites catering to their magical clients.
The doorman knew the guest, so he came running to take the packages away; he bowed and followed them into the place. Jean was fascinated with the old architecture and declared the hotel exquisite.
He smiled at her, it transformed his face, she smiled back, shyly. Local men saw the older man with the young beauty; and they made rude comments about Auslanders (foreigners), taking all their beautiful women.
Dealing with the American occupiers was bad enough, their city was crawling with them. "Nein, it's fine. That is the new Brit leader. He is to meet us later, and considering his powers, he should have the best." Not all agreed, particularly the one who thought to recognize the girl and hoped to be wrong.
One of his Death Eaters, who also sat in the lobby, saw his smile, and rubbed his eyes. Mc Nair had never seen the Dark Lord smiling, damn, and bloody hell, he's holding hands, he thought. He understood when he saw the tasty young bird with Voldemort. He wouldn't mind having seconds when Voldemort was done. Ha, wait until Bellatrix finds out.
Voldemort seemed to read his mind and a cold chill ran along McNair's back. If you value your life, tell no one, forget what you saw, he heard that clearly.
He asked for one of the private dining rooms and ordered to be served English high tea. He liked it better than the ones back in England, the Germans knew how to live rather well.
He chose a table that had a small two-seat couch. The waiter came and took the coats from them. Voldemort had only seen her with a coat, and now she stood in front of him. He stepped back a few steps to admire her, and her shapely figure took his breath away.
She was curvy in all the right places, her breasts were full though not very large, just perfect. His eyes lowered to her small waist and moved sideways a little to see her bum, which was also perfect, it stuck out. She was a garden of carnal delights.
She wore an exclusive light-wool and suede, forest-green Bavarian dress, a light pink sweater with a fur collar, and a wide heavy belt with silver plates around her hips. A large cameo with an unusual carving hung from a necklace made of perfectly round Japanese pearls, with matching pearl and diamond bobs adorning her small ears. He noticed that what he'd believed a headband, was instead an intricate braid interlaced with dark green and sliver velvety ribbon.
Albeit she usually wore jeans and a jumper or very short skirts, her German family had given her an entire wardrobe of traditional clothes. This day she was pleasing them and had also pleased Voldemort.
"You look like an old-time princess, " He said, kissing her hand and holding it to his mouth. A blush reddened her cheeks.
He had actually meant it, he didn't know how to flirt or to be romantic.
For a few minutes, she was afraid that he had nefarious intentions, and she laughed at that, she hoped that he did. She was a modern woman who would turn 19 come Easter and already had sex a few times. She was smart, sophisticated, and could take care of herself.
The tea arrived along with a half liter bottle of French champagne, Voldemort's favorite.
"I think we need to celebrate our meeting, I know this is a day that I will always remember." He said as he poured her a glass once the waiter had let him taste it and left. He would often watch a pensive of this day, again he was factual. He would watch it and cry bitter tears for what he had lost.
"I will only have a small glass. We have a party tonight, and wine and champagne make me sleepy." Jean told him.
Voldemort's heart cringed at the mention of Jean at a party; she'd be dancing with young idiots who'd sully her body with their hands. At that moment, he wanted to kill them; maybe he would follow and kill all those who dared; that thought calmed him down.
"Just a taste." He agreed and held her hand again. He lowered the glass down, he had to kiss her, or he wasn't going to be responsible for her safety, just one kiss lot to let some steam out. He was afraid that he was about to force her.
He pulled her towards him and not even thinking, he sat her on his lap. At first, just held on to her. He nuzzled her neck and breathed her scent.
She was stiff as a board, her arms hung by her side but again, but he didn't notice.
"You smell of perfection, not dirty at all." His husky voice proclaimed.
She thought that was an odd compliment. "I hope not, I shower daily." She said, and her face looked baffled. She wanted to smell under her arms. Though the comment tickled her brain; it couldn't be; but she guessed it was.
He did not hear her, "Is your blood red?" He asked. "Of course, it is. I know that. Fools like Abraxas or Yaxley are the ones who don't know," and laughed.
Blood red, dirt, what was he talking about, by now Jean was really getting afraid. This man was …no, it was unlikely but better safe than sorry. As she was preparing to excuse herself and run away, he turned her face towards him and just touched his lips to hers.
She jumped back at the sparkles. A shadow of recognition crossed her eyes, she'd been right... When his lips pressed, she let him open her lips for his tongue to taste the inside of her bottom lip.
He held her very close, he was desperate with lust, but he didn't want to scare her; she couldn't feel his erection that would make her run. He moved her to his side. He was about to take her right then, by now, he could hardly breathe, and shutters ran along his body.
"To us," he put her flute in her hand and grabbed his own.
"To us," her faint voice answered. That small kiss and the feel of his hardness right under her had twisted her reality. She could feel the tremors shaking his body, just like hers.
The rest of the tea was a blur, the waiter came in and out and bring more things, and all they did was nibble here and there.
He fed her small bites with his fingers and placed them right into her mouth. His finger lingered long enough to make him go mad, the feeling of her mouth around his fingers muddled his mind.
After twenty minutes, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
"I know that I am being forward, but you do something to me, and I don't even know how old are you." He said pressing her hand to his cheek. His eyes burned with desire, and something else, tenderness, which put her at ease.
"I am nineteen, old enough if that is what you are asking." Jean whispered.
"No, no, I don't know what I am asking. I find myself desperate to have you in my arms, not here but in a more intimate setting. I don't do this well, and you should know that I am not married. Would you accompany me to my room?" He knew that he was far from articulate and recognized that he was having problems putting sentences together. He pressed her hand closer to his cheek, needing her touch.
He couldn't believe that he had asked a Mudblood to go to his room. What was wrong with him? If she said no, he still would have to take her, and then she would never want him again. Voldemort, the most feared wizard for the last 30 years, was begging a mere Mudblood child, and he didn't care.
"Yes, I will. I just don't want you to think that I do this kind of thing." She appeared petulant; the face of a child playing with fire.
He knew that she didn't because he had seen inside of her. She had had some inconsequential messy sex with some young idiots. But when he saw his rival, he growled inside. Her boyfriend was a very handsome, wholesome, blond, tall, young Muggle. They had not made love, no yet, but they were almost there.
He was furiously jealous and wished that he could be what he was not, for her, for the Mudblood.
"I know, and you should be warned. You will never be with anyone else after today. I don't share."
She laughed, he was one strange being. It was okay since this would be a one-time thing, then she would have a great secret, one for a lifetime. She forgot that you should never, ever, play with matches because you are bound to get burned.
Voldemort knew his life would never be the same, the one with him was his present and his future. He was playing with matches and getting scorched. He could care less, "So Mote it be," He whispered. He knew that you could not run away from something like this, even if it destroyed him.
A/n You might have guessed where this is going. Meanwhile, I am finishing the open stories. Let me know.