Voldemort couldn't help the grin that spread across his face when he apparated back to that beach. It seemed almost all members of the Order of the Phoenix had come out to greet him. The same ten Death Eaters as before stood behind him, ready to block any potentially dangerous spells. It was all so predictable.
And there she was, his little witch. With only a small bag in her hand, she stood a couple of feet away from everyone, looking as defiant as ever. These people did not know what they were about to let go.
For a moment, he allowed his eyes to travel to the Potter boy. He stood at the front, wand in hand, pure hatred in his face, but he remained silent. Everyone around him watched him closely, alternating between looking at Harry Potter and their dreaded foe. Nobody really seemed to watch Hermione Granger.
The people on the side of the Greater Good were really too predictable. He was sure that his witch had told them all about his demands, and still, they could only think about it in terms of how this would involve Harry Potter. That they even let her go in the first place was ridiculous.
If they truly wanted, they would have been able to keep her from him. He was not invincible.
Not yet.
That his little witch would not see another way out made sense. She would have argued for there to be no alternative pretty strongly. She wouldn't know better. But he could see old enemies among the Order. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a sharp mind in his own right. Remus Lupin, who better than anyone else knew how to survive. Bill Weasley, the curse breaker that quickly rose through the ranks at Gringotts. If they had wanted, they would have been able to protect her.
Instead, they let her go. Because the effort and danger involved was not worth keeping her. She was not worthy to them. Maybe these valiant heroes also could not see past her blood status. Or maybe it was because she was just a girl. Whatever it was, he would make sure that she felt their abandonment every waking hour.
She would be his.
"I see you are true to your word." He approached her with deliberate, soft steps, stopping just a couple of inches away from her. "Do you have everything you need?"
"I am," she confirmed, her voice steady und cold. "If you or your Death Eaters try anything funny, you will be met with death. You are here to collect me, nothing more."
"Indeed I am, little lioness. Don't worry your pretty little head about your friends. I have no intention of harming them. Not today." He smirked at the group of wizards and witches, enjoyed the fear that lay so clearly under their angry stares.
"Come," he finally told Hermione. "I assume you know side-along apparition?"
He saw her swallow them, so very obviously trying to calm her nerves. It was amusing how even now when she tried so hard to appear strong, he could still read every emotion on her face. A Gryffindor indeed.
Grinning, he held out his arm to her. She hesitated briefly, but then she took it. With one jerk, he pressed her hard against his chest, relishing in the surprised squeak that came from her lips and the deep blush that instantly crept into her cheeks. Oh yes, his sweet witch was more than ready to be by his side.
Without another glance at the so-called Order of the Phoenix, he disapparated them.
"My lord, what exactly are we to do with her?" The small voice of the once great Lucius Malfoy cut through the silence that engulfed the extravagant dining room at their manor.
Voldemort simply looked at him, both hands placed lazily on the armrest of his oversized armchair. He had long since decided that sitting on regal-looking yet uncomfortable chairs was not for him. His followers could show their discipline through enduring it, but he deserved better.
Narcissa came to her husband's help. "We are just wondering whether she is expected to attend the same schedule as the rest of us. Whether we should have a place for her at the table or whether she would rather take her meals alone. Things like that, my lord."
He shifted his gaze to the blond woman. What they were really asking was how he could expect them to treat a mudblood as an equal, especially Potter's best friend. He wondered whether a Cruciatus would finally make them understand what he wanted, but he supposed that it would only muddle their brains further.
"Stop asking stupid questions, sister!" Bellatrix suddenly got up from her place and embraced her sister from behind the chair. "If you cannot understand our lord's plans without explanation, maybe you shouldn't sit at this table at all."
Voldemort almost wanted to roll his eyes. If anyone here didn't understand his intentions, it was Bellatrix Lestrange. After his encounter with the little witch in Bella's body, he stopped seeking her out. Just the merest hint of a taste was enough to tell him that true pleasure was not found in a rabid lapdog like Bellatrix. She probably thought he was no longer interested in sex at all, trying to find an excuse for why she was no longer in demand.
She would be proven very wrong very soon.
The thought of a trained little witch, always ready to warm his cock wherever he was, made his spine tingle. She would be glorious, eagerly climbing onto his lap in front of everyone, showing her emotions so vividly as she always did, telling the world that there was no greater pleasure than to serve him.
He forced the thought away. It was a long way until he had her trained appropriately, and until such a time, he would only weaken himself if he indulged in these fantasies. Instead, he decided to show mercy on the poor Malfoys.
"What I mean is that she is my special guest. You will not deny her anything, be it food, access to the manor, or answers to question. She can go wherever she pleases. Do whatever she pleases. Aside from leave, obviously."
Narcissa's eye twitched, but she seemed to at least try to remain composed. "So, does that mean–"
With an annoyed growl, he stood up. "I don't care about the details, woman. It doesn't matter to me where she eats or what she wants. She asks, you supply. Have I made myself clear?"
Eager nods from both the Malfoys and the Lestranges at the table followed immediately. Satisfied, he turned around and left them to stew on their shared confusion without him. For him, there was only one priority right now.
His little witch. Hermione Granger.
He could not wait to have her again. To have her for the first time. He was sure that she had no other experiences. It would make his triumph over her all the sweeter.
He had intentionally given her a couple of hours after their arrival to settle into her new room. It was directly adjacent to his and included a new door that would allow him to come and go as he pleased. Direct access to his witch at all times.
He was not surprised to find Hermione still in her room now. What was of note though was that she actually seemed to have unpacked her bag. Books lay on the desk and were neatly arranged on the shelf and she had filled the wardrobe with clothes. He grinned inwardly. His little witch was not without courage, that much was clear. She fully accepted her fate here.
"Hello again, Hermione," he greeted her as he fully opened the door.
She did not jump at his words, merely looked up from the book in her lap as she was reading on her bed. "Hello."
Allowing himself to smile, he sat down next to her and closed the book. "You just arrived and are already escaping into the world of reading?"
A spark of anger flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by careful aloofness. "I assumed you would return quickly and decided to bridge the waiting with some books."
He put his hand under her chin then, lightly squeezing her jaw, and pulled her closer. "Did you miss me?"
Just the slightest widening of her eyes betrayed her fear. She held up well, Voldemort had to admit. For now.
"I have a dislike for the unknown," she stated flatly, never breaking eye contact. "I hoped you would tell me why I am here sooner rather than later."
He chuckled. "Impatience is the vice of the young. I will not tell you, sweet witch. No, I think you'd rather enjoy finding out yourself, wouldn't you?"
There, a flicker of something else. Curiosity. Maybe even hunger. But there was something else mixed in, something he could not yet place. His little witch tried so hard to keep an even face, and still he was able to read so much. He would have to teach her to stop doing that, as much as he enjoyed it.
"Let me guess, you will not tell me and pretend I am too stupid to understand and then, when it's too late, you will still reveal it in a pompous speech to show me how inferior I am. Is that your plan?" As emotionless as she kept her expression, as full of venom and disgust were her words.
His fingers dug deeper into her cheeks. He could not wait to break that defiant attitude of hers. "You presume too much and know too little. Keep an open mind, and you might yet learn something new."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. "Don't talk to me about keeping an open mind."
Instead of an answer, he used the merest hint of his magic to brush against her aura. Instantly, any pretence of being unaffected were gone. He could feel her shudder under his hand as her eyes grew big. A sigh that was almost a moan came over her lips before she collapsed against his chest.
"Why does that feel so good?" Her voice was small and trembling as she mumbled the question against his robes.
"A very good question," he purred while embracing her in a tight hug. "Why don't we explore that together, mh?"
He could hear her laboured breathing, telling him all he needed to know. The way she reacted to his magic made seducing her almost too easy. He could take everything from her as long as she felt his magical touch.
But easy was not what he wanted. No, she was supposed to struggle and fight him. Only then would his triumph be complete when she finally submitted out of her own free will, knowing that she broke all her convictions and misguided beliefs to bow to him.
He pushed her down and climbed on top of her in one swift movement. Still wide-eyed, she stared up at him, that delicious blush back on her cheeks. Whatever rational thought she might have had just a moment before clearly vanished now. He could see it in her honeyed eyes, the desire that overwrote any other instinct.
Grinning, he lodged his knee between her thighs, just barely not touching the spot she probably needed him most. He planted his hands left and right from her head, trapping her without so much as brushing any other part of her body. Her lips fell open as her breathing got harder. The red from her cheeks spread down her neck.
Her eyes though, her eyes never left his. He could see the fear underneath her desire and she looked to him for comfort. Looked to him for help. He could barely keep the laughter away. She was just too innocent.
With a smirk, he lowered himself enough so that he could whisper directly into her ear. "Did you like that?"
He pulled away slightly again just in time to see her burry her teeth in her lower lip and close her eyes. He could almost feel the moan she tried to swallow. She shook her head desperately, but then a whiny "Yes" escaped her lips despite all her struggles.
He allowed himself a chuckle at that. Then he took a bit more of his magic and deliberately let it slither along her thighs, pushing against her aura with still only the lightest amount of pressure.
This time, no attempt at self-control could hold back her moan. It burst out of her, sending a shiver down his spine. Her reactions were as delicious as they were addictive. He leaned back down. "Do you want more of that?"
"Please." The word fell from her lips as a sob, unrestrained and demanding.
He repeated the move and was rewarded with an animalistic groan that set his bod yon fire. By Salazar, he wasn't even touching her and he could feel himself grow hard. He hadn't even notice that his own breath came in the same quick pattern as hers. Heat seemed to flow freely between them, edging him on, tempting him to touch her. To claim her.
And just then, she moved her hips, seeking release against his knees. He no longer grinned. Clenching his jaws, he buried his face in her shoulder, his hands clenched into fists, and allowed her to rub herself against him.
With more effort than it should take, he reeled back his magic, letting go of her aura. Still, she continued the frantic rhythm that she had built. Her sighs and moans and sobs washed over him, pulling him in, almost breaking him.
"Please," she mewled, "touch me. Please!"
His hand twitched before he caught himself. No. He would not do what she said. She had no hold over him. She had to give him something if she wanted him to comply.
"Try again," he rasped, "beg me like you mean it."
She stilled, her whole body going rigid. For a moment he thought she would push him away now. But then she slung her arms around his shoulders and breathed, "I beg of you, please touch me. My lord."
He was just barely able to swallow the groan that tore loose as he heard her words. It took him several heartbeats before he was able to move again without fear that his lust would override any sane thought.
His sweet little witch under him started moving again. Perhaps she tried to urge him on. Or perhaps she thought her plea still was not enough. But he was a merciful lord and she had begged so desperately, he could never deny her.
He moved one hand down, hovering just a hair away from the shirt that covered her breasts. With every shuddering breath, her hardened nipples almost touched the palm of his hands. Then he started to move his hand up again, brushing against her collarbones until finally settling on her exposed throat.
He only applied the smallest amount of pressure, but he could feel the change in her immediately. Her arms gripped him harder, her hips moved faster. A tremor gripped her whole body. His whole world seemed to only consist of her needy moans and the intoxicating scent of her arousal. He knew she was wet, so wet for him. It would be so easy to take her now. Just free himself and plunge into her coaxing wet hotness. She would probably not even feel any pain. And he just knew he would find the sweet release he had dreamed of these past decades.
Almost instinctively, his fingers closed harder around her throat. Her moans turned into sobs, hungry and unrestrained. The heat between them seemed to turn into lava, enveloping him in the same heady poison that ruled her body.
Then she stopped, as a loud cry fell from her lips, followed by her body jerking uncontrollably against him. Against his better judgement, he let go of her throat and instead snaked both his arms under her, pulling her close to him, just as she pressed herself harder against him.
She felt so good. Hot and soft, so powerful, yet so small under him. In a heartbeat, any second thoughts he had during the last two decades vanished. Whenever he wondered whether he should use the knowledge he had gotten from her memories to instead walk a different path, choose a different future, it was the promise of seeing her again that kept him on track. He often wondered whether that was a foolish choice, but right here, right now, he knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Her body went limp under him and finally, he was able to let go of her. Sitting back up, he could see tears forming in her eyes. She stared straight at the ceiling, her chest still heaving from the intense climax. The first tear spilled over, rolling down her cheeks, and many more followed.
Oh yes, this witch would break beautifully for him. He would take his time, savour every moment until everything she stood for, every thought and memory and belief were gone, replaced by nothing but her submission to him.
He got up quickly, smirking down at her. "You did well today, my sweet. You have pleased me. If you continue to do so well, your life here will be a comfortable one."
A new sob broke free from her, but he no longer had patience for her. Without a second glance, he exited the room and closed the door with an emphatic thud behind him.
Leaving his witch to her own despair.