With a cry, the witch under him shook awake. Drawing a shuddering breath, unconsciously moving her hip against his hand, he looked up, lips still closed around her stiffening nipple, as she eyed him with obvious reproach.

"What are you doing?" She probably intended for that to sound angry, but all Voldemort could hear was the breathy moan underneath the accusatory words.

He chuckled and finally let go of her nipple. "Did you not say you wanted to pass out from gagging on my cock?"

Her hips bucked against his fingers, eliciting a groan from her, but her glare stayed angry. "You can't just touch me like that."

"Can't I?" he challenged, adding a third finger to the rest, meeting the rhythm of her hips. "It seems like this is exactly what you want."

"No!" She shook her head in desperation, trying to still her hips. "I don't … Don't ever delude yourself into thinking I want this. I don't. I …"

She trailed off, cheeks flaming red, her breast heaving. Smiling, he pressed a quick kiss onto her collarbone without breaking the rhythm of his hand. "Not to worry, my sweet. Your words will not deter me. Though we need to skip the spanking until bloody part, I fear. I need you to be able to sit tomorrow, as we will have another long meeting day, and we wouldn't want you to be in discomfort, would we?"

It was almost ridiculous how little this woman was able to hide her emotions. Pure disbelief shone from her eyes. His words were only half true. In reality, he simply didn't want to face Bella's questions when she found her body in a state of too much abuse. He never cared to learn healing spells, so he couldn't cover it up either. It would be better if Bella simply thought she had a long, uneventful sleep.

"Now, my sweet, relax and don't fight it. You did so good today, it's time for a little reward."

"Fuck you!" This hiss carried so much venom in it and yet Voldemort could only laugh.

"Oh, I intend to, darling." After passing out, the witch seemed to have forgotten all about pretending to be Bellatrix. He true character shone through and it was a sight to behold. He could almost feel her magic angrily lashing out.

He pulled his fingers out and noted with a smirk that her hips tried to follow him. Who knew how attractive a woman could be when her instincts overcame her? He brought his hand up to her mouth and pressed his fingers against her lips.

"Open," he commanded her. "Taste."

She hesitated only briefly, before slipping her tongue out and around his fingers. A moan shook her body, eliciting a groan from him in response. Yes, this was what he truly wanted. Trembling, not from fear, but from lust. Moans, not from pain, but from need.

Maybe a bit of fear and pain.

He grabbed her hips and rolled her again, shoving her face first into the mattress. "Don't forget, my sweet, you can't move, so don't even try."

"I hate you!"

"I know."

He carefully arranged her bound thighs so her ass was up in the air, while her face and shoulders remained pressed into the bed. Then he positioned himself behind her, slowly running his hands over her back and hips. For the first time, he actually felt a deep rooted need to be inside her, to feel her around his cock. He always took pleasure from fucking, but this was new. This raw desire that almost made him lose control.

Almost.

Slowly, he sank into her. He could see her mouth fall open, eyes closed, a frown between her eyebrows. With every inch, she seemed to grow more anxious, more rigid. For a second Voldemort wondered whether this witch inhabiting Bella's body had never had sex before. If so, he had to find her as soon as possible. He couldn't wait to take her actual body and make it his.

With one last hard push, he thrust fully into her. Her thighs trembled and he could hear her laboured breathing. She felt pain. Good. A little bit of pain would make her pleasure all the more intense.

He pulled back and thrust back in, harder this time. A little sob escaped her lips, but he could feel the wetness pool between her legs. He repeated the motion, setting a slow but hard rhythm. She felt divine, better than Bella ever did before. But that was only secondary.

He was almost spellbound by the changing expressions on her face. When the pain subsided, her frown deepened. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she tried to hold back a moan. She shook her head almost imperceptibly as she tried to fight against her own arousal.

Then a groan broke free and with it, all her resolved seemed to vanish. Burying her face in the soft mattress, she started to meet his hips. He had won.

He leaned down, placing his elbows left and right from her head, and murmured, "I knew you'd come around."

He sped up then, pulling back her hair to get a better look at her face. Her face spoke of pure bliss, but he could see tears streaming down her face. Every thrust drew out another soft moan or low cry. She would shake her head every now and then, but she never stopped meeting his tempo.

Smiling, he placed a kiss on her neck. He could see goosebumps break out where he kissed her, and so, he repeated it on the other side of her neck, on her back, on her shoulders. It was intoxicating, the way she reacted to every little thing she did.

Her arms still tied behind her back, she could not move from her position, could only move her hips to match his, but never change the rhythm or the angle. But she tried. As he kept a steady pace, he saw her grow frustrated. Her little moans turned into desperate sobs.

"Please," she whimpered suddenly.

He knew exactly what she wanted, but he would not make it so easy. "What can I do for you, my sweet?"

"More," she mewled.

"More what?"

Another sob broke from her lips. "Just … more. Please, my lord, I beg you. Please. Please. Please."

He snaked one hand under her body, grabbing her by the throat again. "More of this?"

He could feel the moan vibrate against his fingers as it fought its way out of her, but she shook her head. "No. Yes. I … I don't know. I need … I need more. Please? Please, sir!"

Bellatrix never begged. Sure, she would seduce him with a pretend neediness, but once she was in his bed, she never begged for anything. She only ever told him to do what he wanted. Take what he wanted.

He doubted that he would ever grow tired of hearing this woman beg.

Maybe she deserved a little mercy, after all, she turned out to be much more interesting than anything he had encountered these past couple of years. Maybe he could just give her what she needed.

He let go of her throat and instead let his hand slip between her legs. As he sped up, he began to lightly circle her most sensitive nub. A surprised cry that instantly turned into an animalistic groan was his reward.

"Yes," his witch rasped, "yes, oh god, yes. Please, don't stop!"

He almost lost control there. His little witch sang so prettily for him, begging him without holding back. Yes, she was his. He would make sure that she would forever be his. Wouldn't that be an even more complete, perfect vision for the future? A throne for him, everyone else bowing down to him, while she sat on his lap, ready and available at all times.

Yes, that was it.

A tremble gripped her body then. He could feel the flutter of her inner walls, hear her high-pitched cries as she chased her salvation. Following an instinct he never had before, he pulled her up to his chest, grabbing her chin to twist her head back and pressed his lips on hers.

He swallowed her moan as she answered his kiss with the eagerness of someone drowning. It was all tongues and teeth and sloppy wetness. He never stopped pounding into her, never stopped kissing her, even when she cried her orgasm into the world. She sobbed and trembled and could barely keep upright, but he got her, holding her, kissing her, touching her all the while, until she finally calmed down.

As she sank back onto the bed, he grabbed her hips and started a punishing tempo that he knew would bring him over the edge shortly after.

He gently removed the ropes and rolled her onto her back, stroking away a couple of locks that stuck to her sweaty face. The witch was fast asleep, losing consciousness almost as soon as he came deep inside her. He smiled triumphantly as he watched her. Her mind was now all his to explore. It would not be easy to navigate a sleeping brain, but he knew he could manage.

Fetching his wand from the floor, he got comfortable sitting down next to her, touching her temple with two fingers. With a deep breath, he dove right in.

Memories of Bellatrix Black assaulted his mind, almost catapulting him out the instant he got in. For a moment, he started to question his earlier conclusion, fearing that this was just Bella after all. But when he struggled through the storm of her memories, he found more underneath. Images and emotions and thoughts that belonged to someone else entirely. A young witch of just 18 or 19 years.

A young witch that was not yet born.

Fascinated, he explored every single memory he could find. He learned about his downfall and about Harry Potter. He discovered that his Horcruxes, so far only a theoretical safety net, actually worked and protected him when he was faced with his own Avada Kedavra spell. He strange mix of pride at this accomplishment with the Horcruxes and annoyance that he almost died to a baby momentarily distracted him, but he continued on his path.

He saw his new self in photographs and descriptions from the girl's friend. He instantly understood that he needed a restore his old body. Whatever this new form that Wormtail concocted for him was, it was not the body of a world leader. No, it would not do.

Intrigued, he delved even deeper. He could not understand the actions of his future self. Why was he so absent while the rest of his followers were the ones fighting in the war? What was he doing?

And then it hit him.

He was looking for someone with enough magical power to help him in the ritual that would restore his body. Of course, this future self did not yet know about the girl that quite literally fell into his lap – because that only happened in 1998 and while it did change him now in 1972, what he saw was the original was everything played out before this strange not-quite-time-travel happened.

Yes. He had everything he needed now. All that was left was to recreate the future he saw and find his witch in 1998. Where was she now? What ritual did she attempt that let her inhabit Bella's body?

When he finally found the correct memory, he almost laughed. So she really was stuck. It would take only a soft push from his own magic to send her back. He would need to teach her how to control her raw magic without any wands or spells once he found her again.

With a sigh, he left her mind. She was still asleep, only a slight frown indicating that she even noticed anything. He stroked her cheek. He never believed in destiny or karma, always convinced that he was the one shaping his own future. But seeing her now, he understood one thing very clearly. He was indeed the saviour of all wizard kind. He would be their leader, even though his path might have looked crooked and full of mistakes to outside people.

He would walk it again, exactly as he witnessed it.

And he would find his witch again. She would be the key to getting back his original body, and she would keep him entertained while he ruled over everyone. He knew that she would fight him and try to kill him at every opportunity. He almost looked forward to it. Once he dominated the whole world, she would realise that she was powerless. It would be fun to see her break.

He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "It's time to go now, my little witch. See you soon."

Hermione awoke with a jolt. Breathing heavily, she looked around. She was still in the little room with the blood circle on the floor. She was in the cottage, but seeing as the sun was just going down, a couple of hours had to have passed.

Huffing in frustration, she got up. Had nobody checked up on her while she was stuck in the bloody ritual? If only they knew what she went through.

She blanched. Nobody could ever know what happened back there. It would probably be best to learn a memory charm that let her put a seal on her own memories. Nobody, absolutely nobody could see how she begged Voldemort for his cock and came while kissing him. She felt insane just thinking about it.

As she exited the small room, a shiver went down her spine. Something shifted. Alarmed, she looked for Harry and Ron.

"Hermione!" Fleur was the first to spot her as she came into the kitchen. "Finally, you are awake again. You were gone a long time this round."

"Did you learn anything?" Harry immediately pressed.

She shook her head. "No. But more importantly, did you feel that just now?"

"No?" Ron looked around the homely kitchen. "What do you mean?"

Just in that second, Bill came rushing into the kitchen. "Wands out! We're under attack!"

Hermione felt her heart almost stop. Ice cold dread seeped into her veins. With her wand drawn, she made her way out to the kitchen and to the door that led straight to the beach. She knew. She hoped against hope that it was not true, but she knew.

"Death Eaters," Bill whispered as he followed her with the rest. "I have no idea how they found us. Someone must have betrayed us."

Hermione swallowed. This cottage was protected, if you didn't know it was here, you couldn't find it. And yet, Death Eaters were here. It could only mean one thing.

Suddenly, she realised that she had a pounding headache. As if someone had been rummaging through her mind.

She reached out her hand to open the door. Ron instantly was next to her, pulling her arm back. "Hermione, stop. What do you think you're doing?"

She only shook her head and freed her arm. Determined to see this through, she opened the door. She had brought this onto all of them. It was her responsibility to fix this.

"You should disapparated," she told her friends.

Before anyone could reply, she stepped out. There, just outside the invisible wards, she could see him. Voldemort. And around the cottage, at least ten Death Eaters stood ready to fight. Not that it mattered. He alone was enough to doom them all.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she watched him raise his wand. In a single motion, he shattered all the wards that Bill and Fleur had erected around the cottage. Her four friends behind her instantly raised their wands and shouted at her to come back, but she stared straight ahead. Straight at the monster that she had brought onto them all.

He came closer until he was only steps away. A small smile played around his lips, full of conviction and triumph. He knew. Just as she did. She would never be able to run from him. She didn't dare to look back. As soon as she had sensed his magic on her skin, she should have known. There was no turning back.

She wanted to hate Ron and Harry for making her go through with the ritual, but in the end, she had no one to blame but herself. She could have stopped it days ago, but she didn't.

Finally, she met his gaze. He looked so different and yet, his crimson eyes held the same dark flame that devastated her just a couple of hours ago. Over 20 years ago. Then she felt his magic wash over her skin again and her knees buckled. She had lost. Absolutely and irrevocably.

A grin spread across his lips. He took another step, bringing him close enough to touch her. A single finger stroked her cheek as her friends screamed in the background, hurling hexes at him that were blocked instantly by the prepared Death Eaters around the cottage.

Voldemort didn't even spare them a glance. Not even Harry's enraged screams could distract him. Trembling, she held her breath, bound by his sinister gaze.

Then his grin turned into a true smile.

"Hello, Hermione."