Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Hermione sneaks into a pureblood Samhain gathering to get information on Death Eater movements. What will happen when she is given a key role to play in their ancient rite? Will she ever leave again?
Warning: This story contains sexual situations.
A/N- This fic was written for the Samhain Challenge on a forum I belong to. I would like to thank Eclectic Pet for being the awesome beta she is!
Both Harry and Ron had tried to talk her out of this stunt, but when Hermione set her mind to something very little could deter her from her goal. It was a quality in her, her friends had found useful in the past. At the moment they were too worried about her, to understand the information she could gain was worth the risk.
Three weeks ago while investigating the homes of possible Death Eaters they’d found a crumpled invitation in the trash of one Meriel Muddelworth. It seemed Meriel had been invited to an exclusive pureblood gathering at Malfoy Manor to celebrate the sacred night of Samhain. What made it so perfect was the dress code insisted that all in attendance wear appropriate costumes and masks with the expectation that it would hide the person’s identity.
They’d been arguing about who would go since they found the invitation, but Hermione felt she was the only real choice. She loved her best friends more than anything, but neither of them were any good at any kind of subterfuge.
Hermione never really put any work into her looks; it was just not something she found important enough to waist brainpower on. Tonight was the exception. She needed to blend in with the pureblood elite, which meant she couldn’t have a hair out of place.
When creating her persona for the evening she decided to keep with a harvest theme, as it was what Samhain celebrated. She tamed her normal frizzy hair into shining curls, then charmed it a rich red like the color of autumn leaves. Then she wove leaves of yellow and gold into it to make it seem as if they were growing there. She pinned the front up out of her face with a bundle of bittersweet.
She wore a half mask that glittered with gems of garnet and citrine. She used dark reds and black to shadow and line her eyes and a deep brown to paint her lips. Her dress was brown velvet with shimmering black crystals stitched in constellations to give it an ethereal look. For shoes, she decided it would be best to keep with ballet style flats, just in case she had to leave quickly.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t recognize the woman who looked back at her. Her chin held high, her back straight. She felt that anyone would be hard pressed to realize she didn’t belong at this event.
An hour later, she found herself walking up the long white gravel path to Malfoy Manor. The doors were open and the grand house lit for the festivities. One had to admit the grounds were breathtaking when they were alive like tonight.
At the door, a house elf took her cloak and directed her to a large room where the guests were gathering and socializing before the main event. Trays with flutes of sparkling red liquid floated about the room as well as one with harvest cakes and other treats for the guests to enjoy.
Hermione stayed to the outside edge of the room, watching and trying to tell who was who. Some of the guests were more obvious than others. Bellatrix stood out like no one else. She wore a black spider web half mask that did nothing to hide her defined features. The only word Hermione could think to describe her dress was vulgar. It was a tight fitted dress of black dragon hide, which dipped so far between her breasts one could see her navel. She was obviously trying to get someone’s attention.
This worried Hermione. She didn’t think Voldemort himself would actually be in attendance tonight for several reasons. First, it was a pureblood gathering, and he wasn’t actually a pureblood. Second, she didn’t really see him as one to actually socialize with his followers. By Harry’s accounts he usually liked to look down on them, not walk among them. But if Bellatrix’s outfit was anything to go by he was at least expected here tonight.
With this new frightening possibility Hermione decided to keep to herself until she was sure he was there or not. Because of this, it was an hour before she spoke to anyone at all, and she only spoke then because the man approached her.
“Are all your friends too well disguised?” The man asked with an elegant voice.
“I’m just enjoying watching.” She answered trying to signal to the man, she was not interested in a chat.
“People watching can be an interesting pastime.” He said, giving no sign he was going anywhere.
Hermione looked over to the man as she tried to think of what else she could say to get rid of him. She was surprised by the sinfully handsome man standing next to her. He wore a mask that covered everything but his nose, lips and chin. It gave off the appearance of a skull with great ivory antlers growing from his temples.
He wore a black hooded cloak with wisps of jet hair scattered about his forehead. The cloak was open in the front showing off a well-defined chest and stomach that had been decorated in intercut black runes. To cover his modesty he wore a long loincloth made of the same light fabric as his cloak.
She was caught off balance by how beautifully dark the man was. She had never really expected a creature like him to live outside the muggle shows and movies of her childhood and to think he was seeking her attention was both surreal and heady.
As a devilish smirk spread across his lips Hermione realized she’d been staring at him for several minutes without speaking.
“Yes.” She said in order to get her brain restarted. “I quite enjoy people watching. I don’t find many people who have anything interesting to say.”
The man licked his lips as he turned to look back out at those gathered. “Most people lack the intelligence to have a truly interesting conversation. Fortunately, conversation isn’t really why we’re here tonight. Do you have your role for the evening’s ritual yet?”
Trying to think fast, as she really had no idea what a pureblood Samhain ritual entailed she decided it would be safe to just shake her head.
“You’re still young, have you ever participated before?” He asked obviously noticing her unease.
“No. This will be my first time.” She told him honestly.
He smiled at her words in a way that made Hermione blush. “There are only a few important roles. The rest play the honored dead for purposes of the rite.”
“What roles are there?” She asked interested to learn about the hidden customs of pureblood society. It wasn’t exactly what she’d come here for, but she couldn’t bring herself to pass up an opportunity to learn something like this.
He smiled, seeming pleased by her eagerness to learn what she didn’t know. “There are three besides the dead. The first is the Hunting God, who has come to the end of his time on earth. Next is the Autumn Goddess, who strikes her husband down so the land can rest. And finally the Dark God, who rules over death and takes hold of the land as winter comes.”
Hermione nodded as she processed this information, and then looked around at those in the room. “Do you know who will be playing each role?” She asked curiously.
“The head of the house is usually expected to play the Hunting God.” He told her pointing to Lucius Malfoy dressed in stunning brown robes with a full wolf mask covering his face. The only way she knew who he was, was the signature blond hair he’d only braided back.
“One would assume the Dark Lord will take the mantle of Dark God if he attends.” The man added with a curious smile as he looked around the room.
At the mention of Voldemort, Hermione couldn’t help but shift as her stomach clenched with nerves. She was only here to find out more about his followers, not confront him herself. She knew better than to think she could take him on alone.
“You seem like someone who’s met him in person.” The man says after observing her for a moment.
“No, I’ve just heard a lot about him. People say he’s quite an intimidating figure.” She told him trying to keep as honest as she could while still keeping her cover. “What should I call you by the way, it seems odd to talk to a person for so long and not know their name.”
“It’s traditional not to speak true names at such gatherings, and to hide our identities so that the spirits and demons of the Otherworld will not know who’s lingered in their company. Some understand this value better than others.” He said as his eyes drifted to Bellatrix.
She chuckled as her eyes went to the bewildered witch who was obviously expecting her Lord before now. “So could we use fake names so I can stop thinking of you as that guy?” She asked looking back to her companion.
He chuckled and nodded. “You may think of me as Oberon.”
“And so very modest you are.” She let the words slip before she could think of what she was revealing.
“You know the reference?” He asked sounding interested and amused.
“I like to read.” She said looking away from him. “He was a beautiful writer, even if he was a muggle.”
“Begrudgingly I must agree.” He told her sounding truly sad that he had to admit anything good about a muggle. “So who would you like to be, Titania?” He asked with a flirtatious grin.
“I think it would be tempting the spirits for someone like me to go by that name.” She told with a shake of her head. “But to keep with the theme how does Moth sound?”
“I like Mustardseed better.” He said with the tone of a man who was used to getting his way. Hermione rolled her eyes a bit but nodded.
“Fine, since you are Oberon…” She started teasingly. “I can’t really argue.”
“Although you’ll have to tell me what you mean by ‘someone like me’?” He asked giving her his full attention.
“Seriously?” She asked looking at him; her meaning was obvious to her. “Titania was a beauty that surpassed all others. That’s a pretty heavy mantle for any woman to live up to, especially one like me.”
A frown entered his eyes as dark orbs studies her in a very focused way from head to toe. He then turned and looked around the room with a very serious focus as he scanned each woman.
“You don’t find yourself beautiful?” He asked, without looking back at her, he seemed to be trying to find something among the women at the gathering.
“I’ve never really thought about it.” She told him. It was odd how comfortable she found herself talking to this man. She decided it must be his obvious intelligence, which made it so easy to converse in this open way. That and the fact she knew he couldn’t be any of the Death Eaters she knew about, she would remember if she’d met this man. “But others have made me well aware of my lack of womanly grace.”
“You must surround yourself with imbeciles.” He said as if it was simple fact. “You’re the only woman in the room I would say had any, womanly grace.”
She blushed at these words and looked up at him stunned. Here was a perfect specimen of a man calling her beautiful, it just didn’t seem like it could be real.
“Thank you.” She said finally realizing she was staring again.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Why do you think I’m talking to you?” He asked with a charmingly teasing tone.
“Oh I thought it was because I was the only woman in the room with more than half a brain between my ears.”
“That was a pleasant surprise I must say. You’re right; I would have walked away by now if you didn’t have anything interesting to say.”
She just laughed before she thought of a new question. “So who gets to beat up Lucius Malfoy?” She asked curiously, the idea appealing to her greatly.
He chuckled as he looked over to the host and then back to her. “I don’t know. Usually whoever is playing the Dark God gets to choose.”
“Why?” She asked giving him her full attention again.
“Because she will belong to him until sunrise.” He told her simply without any further details that she craved.
“No wonder Mrs. Lestrange has dressed so obviously.” She said as the realization dawned on her.
“You think she wishes to be chosen by the Dark Lord?” Oberon asks interestedly.
“She’s obviously in love with him.” Hermione told him as she had thought everyone knew that.
“Really?” The man asked sounding disgusted with the very idea.
“Oh yes.” Hermione said with a firm nod.
After that, the stranger moved their conversation away from the ritual. They started to speak of more normal and academic things. Though Hermione was enjoying the wonderful verbal intercourse, she knew she should be moving on and trying to find someone who knew useful things about the Death Eaters. This man was obviously no Death Eaters. He didn’t seem like someone who would follow a madman like the other groveling idiots in the room.
“Regrettably I must leave you now.” He said after some time. “I have some things to take care of before they start the bonfire, but maybe I’ll see you later on.”
Hermione was both glad and regretful that the man had to go, but she too had things she needed to do before this ritual started. “Maybe after?” She asked knowing that she would more than likely never see him again.
“Perhaps.” He said taking her hand and kissing her knuckles before disappearing into the crowd.
Now more comfortable that she knew what she was doing Hermione moved through the group and tried to listen in on any conversation where she heard words about the Dark Lord or Death Eaters.
She even chatted with a few people, introducing herself as Mustardseed had most of them looking at her oddly, but she really didn’t care. She just explained that Oberon had given her the name and they seem to know whom that was, and didn’t ask any more about it.
By the time, Lucius finally called the room to silence, Hermione had quite a few little gems the Light side would find useful in the near future. With a theatrical gesture of his wand, he opened a wall of glass doors leading to the gardens. Small burners lit the path people would go to the ritual site.
As Hermione passed the door Lucius’ hand fell on her arm to stop her and her heart jumped into her throat. How did he know? What were they going to do with her?
“You will come with me.” He said in an almost kind way. Now she was really confused. She followed him, as her first thought had obviously been wrong.
She followed him into a small side room where there was a table; set up with a golden circlet of moons, a bowl with black liquid, a paintbrush, two potion vials, and a dagger that looked as if it was made of ice. Hermione was all the more confused.
“Why am I here?” She asked as she watched him walk over to the table.
“You’ve been chosen to play the Autumn Goddess.” he said picking up the circlet and carefully placing it on her head.
“Me?” She asked as she was clearly hearing him wrong.
“Yes. Will that be a problem?” he asked sounding suspicious for the first time.
“No, no, I was just surprised.” She told him watching as he circled around her and pushed curls off her back. She stepped away from him when she felt her zipper loosen. “Excuse me?” She asked needing a little more notice before someone starts to undress her.
Lucius sighed and looked at her stiffly. “Would you prefer that my wife prepare you?” He asked before adding. “It’s traditional that the Hunting God prepare the Autumn Goddess.” He said his eyes traveling her form.
Hermione shook her head. “I think I would feel more comfortable with your wife.” She said as she started to make escape plans. How had she ended up in one of the pinnacle roles of this blasted ritual?
If she didn’t know better she would say Lucius was pouting as he left the room. Once she was alone she tried the window only to find it sealed. She was thinking about ways to break it when Mrs. Malfoy entered the room.
“Are you alright dear?” She asked seeming to be in a much better mood than her husband.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset your husband.” She said covering her frustration with the apology.
“Oh that’s fine by me dear.” The older woman said as she moved to her and started to undress her. “You just had him a bit excited when he realized it wouldn’t be my sister in this role.” She said in a knowing way as she moved over to the table and picked up the brush and bowl. “You see he never gets to play the God coming into power these days, so preparing the women is the most fun he’s allowed to have.”
“I don’t really understand why I was chosen, do you know?” Hermione asked as the woman started to carefully pain runes onto her back. She was at least thankful she could get away with wearing her underthings while she was being prepared.
“The Dark God chose you.” The woman said unhelpfully.
“Who’s playing the Dark God?” She asked while the woman set aside the bowl and brush before coming back to unhook Hermione’s bra. The moment it was gone she moved her arms over her breasts.
“The only man with enough power to make my husband play the Hunting God tonight.” She said as if the answer was obvious. And it was, if Lucius wanted to be the Hunting God, the only man he would bow to was Voldemort. But why had Voldemort chosen her?
Suddenly a few things clicked into place in Hermione’s brain. The first was that runes were being painted down her back; the second was how everyone backed off the name Oberon so quickly without knowing who Mustardseed was. All the color drained from Hermione face as she realized whom she’d been talking to most of the evening.
“Oberon is the Dark Lord.” Hermione said more to herself than to the woman moving around her.
“He uses that name at these gatherings, yes.” The woman confirmed before pushing Hermione’s arms down.
“But he didn’t look anything like the person that was described to me. He had a nose.” She said flinching as her breasts were now being painted with runes as well.
“He’s a very skilled wizard.” Narcissa said simply. “He can take most any face he desires, though he actually uses the one he had on tonight more often than the rest. Well, besides his normal face.”
Hermione couldn’t believe that she’d been talking to him all night and not realized who he really was. Had he figured out who she was? No, he wouldn’t choose her for the role if he’d realized she was a muggle-born. How was she going to get out of this?
“Give the paint a few minutes to dry then you can put your dress back on.” The blonde told her with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry so much my dear, this is an honor to receive. He is said to be quite a giving lover.”
“Lover?” Hermione asked and blinked as a new level of terror ran through her. She would be his until dawn, which would obviously mean copulation at least once.
“Yes my dear. Let me explain your part tonight.” The other woman said as she walked back over to the table. “When the time comes, you’ll take this dagger.” She explained holding up the crystal blade. “And cut a shallow wound across my husband’s chest. He’ll then fall into a deep slumber until the ritual is over. After he does you turn away from him and drop to your knees to welcome the new God. He will guide you from there.”
“What are the potions for?” Hermione asks as she carefully steps into her gown.
“For your preparation. You’ll take both right before you go out.” Narcissa said still being as helpful as ever.
“They won’t hurt me?” She asked as she walked over to the table to uncork and sniff one. She knew the scent well actually. It was a potion she’d taken before. Knowing they’d thought of this made her feel a tiny bit better. “Childless Potion.” She said looking to the woman.
“Yes, no one wants you to be burdened with a child out of wedlock, and this isn’t a ritual of fertility.” Hermione reached for the other potion but this time Narcissa stayed her hand. “Not yet my dear. It won’t hurt you.” She promised so Hermione withdrew her hand.
“Can I have a few moments?” The younger woman asked eager to be alone so that she could think of a way out of this mess.
“It’s almost time dear; no one wants you to get cold feet.” She said looking at Hermione with a knowing smile. “You’ll be fine.” She promised fixing the girl’s dress and hair so she looked presentable.
“There are rewards for playing the part of the Goddess tonight.” She added as she tried to calm Hermione’s obvious nerves.
Before Hermione could ask, what those rewards could be there was a short knock at the door. “It’s time.” Narcissa said holding out the Childless Potion to Hermione first. Without much worry she downed the first, it would only be helpful if she couldn’t find a last minutes escape. There was just so many witches and wizards here tonight she didn’t think she could make a simple run for the gate.
When the woman held out the second potion to Hermione, she was much more apprehensive. Before the girl could smell it, the woman held it to her lips and gave her no choice but to drink it as well. Hermione even tried to hold it in her mouth but it felt strange on her tongue and she found she would either have to spit it out or drink it. With Narcissa standing in front of her, she would have to drink, or the woman would think it was something other than nerves that bothered her.
“There.” She said with a pleased smile. “It will make the night much easier for you my dear.” She said before taking Hermione’s hand and placing the dagger into it. “Make sure not to cut yourself with this, with your small figure I’m not sure how long you would sleep.”
Hermione thought about cutting Narcissa with the blade but that plan died the moment the door opened and she saw the number of masked wizards waiting to lead her to the ritual. Maybe she could cut Voldemort with the blade as well as Lucius, then their night would be cut short, and she could make it seem as if it was an accident.
For now, the brilliant young witch did as was expected of her and let the wizards lead her out to the bonfire. She was led directly to the center of a wide circle. The bonfire already high at her back.
Lucius started the ritual chant in Latin beside her, calling and honoring the dead ancestors of those here. Many made offerings of bleached white bones, throwing then into the fire. From her place, Hermione couldn’t tell what kinds of bones they were tossing in, but she suspected the worst of these people.
Lucius’ chant ended with his saying goodbye to those of the world of the living and turning to Hermione for her part. He opened his robes for her, showing his pale chest. She grasped the dagger firmly and pressed the tip to his skin, running a long shallow wound diagonally down his chest.
She then turned her back to him as she’d been told. Suddenly her knees gave out. She remembered Narcissa telling her to drop, but she hadn’t really planned on doing it so fast. Her skin was feeling a tingling sensation that she couldn’t explain and she knew the second potion must be taking effect.
Oberon stepped into the circle in all his glory and she found a new wave of need pass over her. It had been a lust potion; it had to be with how much her body betrayed her mind in that moment. She unwillingly dropped the dagger, her only defense, as he body was unable to summon the focus it required to keep a hold of the tool.
The tall beautiful man stepped in front of her, his hand tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes. He started to take up the same chanting tone as Lucius had been speaking. This time he spoke of how the Goddess now belonged to him, the Master of the Dead. Her body responded to his touch with waves of need and pleasure.
Opening her mouth, she took the tip of one of his fingers in, sucking on it lightly to show him her desire. His hand lifted her chin and pulled her into a standing position in front of his form, all the while never breaking eye contact.
She was so focused on him she didn’t notice others coming up behind her, unzipping her dress until it was falling around her feet. Someone did the same for him, his cloak on the ground he now only wore the loincloth.
She wasn’t sure if the heat she still felt on her skin was from the fire or the potion, and when his hands moved over her skin she didn’t care. He traced her body with long skilled fingers, ridding her of her underclothes and leaving her completely exposed to the large crowd and still she didn’t care. She could do nothing now but surrender to him, and that thought both scared and excited her.
The rest of the world was a blur around her; nothing was in focus but him. Her mind and body were screaming for him now; but a small voice deep inside reminded her it was the potion and not her own desire.
Gracefully he took a seat on his cloak and pulled her down into his lap. “I wonder if there is any dark magic in you, sweet Mustardseed.” He murmured softly in her ear. His breath was cool on heated skin.
“You don’t really know me, dear Oberon.” She found herself saying as at least her mouth was still connected to a working brain cell.
The Dark Lord chuckled and turned her around so that she straddled his legs facing out to the masked spectators. He kept a firm hand on her stomach, easily keeping her exactly where he wanted her while the other hand played with a loose curl of her hair.
“Then let me guess what you’re feeling in this moment.” He spoke softly to her, their conversation only meant for her ears. “You’ve realized you were given a lust potion and are blaming every little shiver I induce in you to it.” He said as his fingers dropped the curl to brush his middle finger softly down the column of her neck.
“Yes!” She moaned as her hips rolled against his cloth covered lap as much as he would allow.
“Your body is burning for me, but deep down all you wish to do is run.” He told her as the finger traveled over the runes painted on her chest.
“I-” She started but her words were cut short as his fingered circled her painfully attentive nipple.
“The effects of the potion are short lived; they will pass once you surrender in pleasure.” He explained while the wicked finger moved down her stomach to her hipbone. “And you’ll make that surrender before you ever feel my phallus.”
His words gave her a new hope. He was playing with her, but he wouldn’t actually have sex with her until she had a clear head. Maybe she could find the dagger; she knew it was on the ground somewhere.
Both of his hands now moved to her thighs, spreading her knees wide enough that she could feel the cool night air lap against her very core. She shivered pressing her back against his chest.
“Please?” She begged wanting the torture to be over so that her mind could once again be her own.
“You beg so very sweetly, I will have you begging much of this night.” He told her, his voice full of dark promise.
Remembering suddenly that she also had hands, she moved one between her legs to seek out her own release. There was an instant sharp sting to her thigh, which made her gasp and moan.
“Bad girl.” He reprimanded her before running a soothing hand over the red mark his hand had made. “These should go here.” he told her and guided both her hands up around the back of his neck, exposing her all the more to the crowd. “If they move before I say, you’ll be well punished tonight.” He promised before letting his hands travel back down her body.
He played her body like it was his instrument. Caressing, touching, pinching, scratching, and keeping her on the edge of surrender for what felt like hours. All she could think to do was hold on to him and pray he would finish before she went mad.
When he finally let her fall, she felt that she’d never fallen before. Her whole body tensed almost cramping as pure electric bliss traveled down every one of her nerve endings. She was boneless in his arms, only barely keeping herself from passing out.
While she gasped for air, he finally turned her head and kissed her, owning her lips with his. She thought it was finally over, but then the world shifted and her body burned once again. She was filled with a power like nothing she’d ever felt. But it wasn’t coming from him or from anywhere, but deep inside herself. Like a great basilisk, dark power shifted inside of her and she almost climaxed again from the feel of it.
“There it is…” Voldemort said breathlessly. “I’ve been wondering. Now my goddess, soon it will be time for us to really get to know one another.” With that, he kissed her again making the dark power curl inside her, sending her spiraling over the edge into dark oblivion.
Hermione was distantly aware of someone placing her down on a warm space. It wasn’t hard exactly, but her still dazed mind couldn’t place it. She heard voices a little ways away, but they felt disconnected and didn’t seem to make since. When they sound died away, she drifted back into the comfortable darkness of unconsciousness.
The next time she was aware, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She could feel the heat of a fire to her right, but she was definitely indoors. Shifting under a soft sheet that had been placed on her she realized she was on the ground, on a rug made from some kind of animal hide. It was somewhat comfortable so she decided to play with it as sheep rather than bear.
Before she opened her eyes, she felt someone come and lay down near her, but they didn’t touch, or speak. She opened an eye to see what was around her. She seemed to be in a study of some sort, the other occupant of the room at her back.
She didn’t know how she knew he was there, except she felt her magic pulling towards his. When she felt his fingertips on the back of her shoulder, she couldn’t help but shiver, even if she were trying to seem as if she was still asleep.
The fingers trailed slowly down the back of her arm, and she could feel that snake of magic inside her shift and purr with his touch.
“I was wondering when you would make up.” He said his voice higher and more menacing than before.
“How long have I been asleep?” She asked as she racked her brain for what a pureblood woman would be doing in this situation. Her mind went to Bellatrix, and she frowned.
“An hour or so, it’s to be expected. You’re still young, and these sorts of rites are still new to you.”
“Yes my Lord.” Hermione said as her heart hammered in her chest. Her mind was working properly again, though she could still feel the dark energy moving and shifting inside of her, as he stroked her skin. It made her feel as if she was vibrating, as if she’d drunk too much caffeine or Pick-Me-Up potion.
“You’ll be able to feel the power until dawn.” His careful voice brushed the back of her neck as she felt him lean in. “It’s the reason I participate in these old rites. It gathers and focuses one’s energy like nothing else in the world.”
She didn’t know how to respond. She could tell he was right, her dark magic was awake and focused in a way it had never been before. “Why do you stay?” She asked suddenly, she realized the ritual was now over, so why was he still here.
“I told you, the goddess belongs to the Dark God tonight.” He said as he brushed cool lips against the back of her neck.
“Is it required for the ritual to benefit you?” She asked still confused on why he would waste his time now that he had what he wanted.
“You wish to know if I always claim my god right on these nights?” he asked with a snake like chuckle in his throat.
“I guess that’s what I’m curious about.” She said working very hard not to tense under his attention.
“No, I usually never do, usually I’ll pass the honor off on one of my other followers. But I usually don’t have such a delectable reason to stay.” He said his hand moving under her arm to caress her breast.
Hermione let out a small gasp, and her chest pressed into his hand before she could tell it not to. She didn’t want to admit how good his hands and lips felt on her skin. “I wouldn’t think you would have a shortage of beautiful women wanting your attention my Lord.”
“Oh your Lord is not so vain.” He stated his hand brushing down her rib cage. “I’m much more interested in your mind, and your magic, though even I have to admit you have a beautiful body. The advantages of being so young I think.”
“I don’t think your body lacks very much my Lord.” Hermione said honestly remembering his form dressed only in the loincloth.
He chuckled against her neck and pulled her back against a cool hard chest. “I don’t think you’ve been able to explore it as much as I would like.”
“What does that matter if it’s my intellect and magic that you’re interested in?” She asked as her heart beat in her ears.
“Can’t you feel how our magic moves together now?” He asked as his hand moved between her legs. Hermione pressed her knees together, not sure, if she could handle doing this again with him.
Voldemort growled at the denial and quickly pushed her onto her back so that he could move on top of her. She looked up into the red eyes Harry had described, and the snake like noseless face.
“You are mine.” He hissed looking into her amber eyes.
“Tonight.” She couldn’t keep herself from correcting.
“I am Lord Voldemort. If I choose, you are mine for as long as I want you.” he said with a cruel smile. “Not as pleased with your Dark Lord in this form?” He asked with bitter amusement.
“It’s not that my Lord, I’m just…I’m with someone.” She said and Ron’s face floated into her head. She quickly turned away just in case he was reading her mind.
He looked at her questioningly for a moment then shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. If I want you, I’ll keep you.” He told her as he moved lips along the column of her neck. It felt a bit odd with the missing nose, but she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed it. “I promised to make you beg.” He added as his lips ran down her chest. She could feel her magic moving inside her like it wanted him, wanted this connection. It made what they were doing all the more intense.
“You did.” She gasped as skilled thin lips came in contact with already excited nipples. “You made many promises with word and deed.” She added not really able to focus on who was on top of her in this moment. It felt so good.
Hermione shook her head, trying to focus. “It’s overwhelming with the way…” She moaned as his teeth grazed against her skin.
“…the magic moves?” He asked giving her nipple one last lick before moving up her body once again.
“Yes!” She moaned shaking again, grasping for focus. Her hands moving to his chest, wanting to push him away and gain some space from the effect he had on her. Instead nails scraped down his chest, making red lines and drawing a pleased hiss from him.
His lips moved just under her ear before nipping at the lobe. “Do you like being overwhelmed little Mustardseed?” He asked making her feel the heat of his breath flow down her neck. “Do you like being out of control?”
“No.” She gasped pressing herself against him as she tried to break from the dark and sinful place his closeness sent her to.
“You know what perfectionists like us truly desire most?” He asked her and then his hands found a place at her hips. He held her firmly, keeping her from moving under him. “We want someone who’s powerful enough to put us out of control.”
She whimpered shaking her head, as she couldn’t admit what he was saying sounded so appealing. How could she want this man? If he knew who she was, he would kill her, how could she desire someone who wants her dead.
“Just let go.” He commanded pulling her hips against him so she could feel his hardened need for her. “Yield my little Mustardseed; you know it’s what you desire.” Voldemort taunted.
“No!” She gasped but her mutinous body pressed back against him.
“That’s it.” He moaned biting her neck as if he were an animal dominating his mate. “Say what you like, just give in.”
With that, he took her. She could no longer think of anything, but his desire thrusting against her own. She made music for him, screaming, begging for her own pleasure. Her nails rub into whatever skin they could get a hold of as his thrust bruised her in the most delicious way.
She broke apart in his arms gasping at the overwhelming flood of pleasure that she couldn’t hold back, no matter how hard she tried. When he took her lips into another kiss she thought she might die, it was just too much. She didn’t know how anyone could survive the never-ending unity of bodies and magic.
Hermione thought she was bound to pass out again as the Dark Lord finally found his own release inside her trembling body. She was panting as the darkness wanted to swallow her, but she pressed back, fighting to stay awake, always fighting.
He was quite on top of her for some time, seeming a bit breathless himself he watched her like a snake studying its prey. She had an image of him unhinging his jaw and swallowing her whole, which for same sick reason did not put her off.
“Could any little boy from Hogwarts really measure up to that?” He asked smugly once her heart was beating normally again.
“Are you so sure I went to Hogwarts?” She asked playfully at first, but her stomach sank as a knowing smile spread across his face. Her hand moved to the mask on her face, finding it still in place. Not that he really knew what Hermione Granger looked like.
“I’m the only one that’s realized.” He said sitting up and kneeling between her legs. “They would never have let a muggleborn participate in such an important night.”
Her heart stopped as she looked around to see if her wand was in view. Not really knowing what she was expecting, if he knew, than why would he let her keep her wand? As expected, it was nowhere in view, though the action made him laugh coldly.
“If you knew why would you choose me?” She asked, her curiosity and bravery working together to keep her calm and still.
“I’ve heard stories about you from my followers; I wanted to get a better measure of you.” He told her, brushing his middle finger down her cheek, neck, and chest.
She tried to pull away. “I never really took you for an overly sexual being.” Hermione pointed out trying to defend herself from the way he was looking at her.
“That’s more for lack of a proper partner than anything else.” He said as his eyes gleamed with amusement.
“I’m a mudblood.” She reminded him firmly, wondering why he would even touch her knowing.
“Every toy has at least one flaw.” He told her dryly.
“I don’t believe you.” She said straightening her back a little, and putting her nose into the air just a bit to show that she knew the answer. “You’re just trying to keep me off balance. You’re trying to use this…” She motioned between them to refer to what they had just done. “…as some kind of weapon. What do you really want Voldemort?” She said his name, her jaw twitching only slightly.
His hand was around her neck in a flash of a cobra strike. Holding her to the ground and cutting off air, he leaned in to speak in her ear.
“Silly little girl, needs to learn her place.” He hissed as his eyes gleamed bright red.
Hermione gasped. He was stronger than her physically and with the way his power pulsed against her own she would have to admit he ruled her in magic as well.
Something very animal in her wanted to go limp and bare her neck to her obvious superior. But she was not an animal, she was a witch, and she wouldn’t submit to him so easily, not like this.
When he let her go, he moved away standing and wrapping himself into a robe. She took in a deep breath then coughed as the air came too quickly.
“Have we learned anything?” Voldemort asked as he looked down at her as if she was some unruly student.
She licked her lips as the coughing subsided. “You have a short temper.”
“You didn’t already know that?” He asked moving to a leather wingback chair near the fire. “The boy hasn’t kept his minions very well informed.”
“I’m not his minion.” She snapped with narrowed eyes, her own temper flaring. As it did she could feel a tingle of power in her fingers, negative emotions powered one’s dark side. If she could get angry enough she might be able to do some wandless magic with how alive her dark magic was tonight.
“Oh? Then why didn’t he come himself? Why did he send a girl to do his work for him?” Voldemort taunted.
“If he had, would you have fucked him too?” She taunted back trying to hold onto her anger, to focus it.
He tapped his almost invisible lips as if he was truly considering her question. “I doubt he would have been nearly as obliging as you mudblood.” He said amused by her anger.
She clenched her fists and looked up at him, she almost had a hold on it, and she could feel it. “If I’m so inferior, how did you just perform?” She snapped getting up to look for something to cover herself with.
“Oh, it was more than easy to be ready for a sweet, young, wanton form. Mudbloods do have some uses after all.” He said that same knowing gleam in his eyes.
She growled wanting to beat him over the head with something. It was when she realized she had enough rage to fuel at least one spell.
“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!” She screamed while she waved her hand as if it were a wand. Hope sored in her chest as she saw the flash of light leave her fingers. But the hope was very short lived, as in another snake like flash Voldemort cast his own spell wordlessly defending himself. She had no idea where he even got his wand from.
“I was wondering how long that would take. Shorter than I expected, but you’ve been full of delicious surprises tonight sweet little mudblood.”
She was panting from the focus it had taken to cast the spell, and he didn’t look changed by the ordeal. Though, to be fair he had the use of his wand, and she didn’t.
“What are you talking about?” She asked deciding the next best tactic was to keep him talking for now.
“Draco told me how violent you were, but I didn’t realize just how much darkness you really had in there. I could enjoy your darkness for some time I think.” He told her, looking at the witch who had fallen on to her hands and knees while she caught her breath. “Do your friends know how much you must hold back?” He asked in his taunting tone again.
She looked up at him with a confused frown.
He chuckled deciding he liked the look on her sweet lips. “Surely the old fool wouldn’t have allowed you so close to his boy if he knew.” He told her enjoying her bewildered look. “Ah, I think the mudblood doesn’t even know her own power. Interesting. You must have repressed it naturally. Don’t worry, after tonight, you won’t be able to do that again.”
“Everyone has a little darkness to their magic.” She told him with a firm nod.
“That’s true, we all have both light, and dark within us, but the balance varies from person to person. Tell me girl, how much light do you feel inside yourself tonight?” He asked in a tone that said he already knew her answer.
She frowned and closed her eyes to focus on the magic inside her core. She felt the darkness shift, wanting to pull her towards the greater darkness it could feel in the room. It took longer than she would have liked, but in the darkness, she found her light.
“There is at least half as much as there is darkness.” She said pushing herself to her knees. “But the darkness was super charged, so that doesn’t mean much.”
“It has been focused. Nothing can give you more power than you already have.” He told her with a shake of his head. “And I think you’re overestimating the light. No my dear, you are a dark witch, if you weren’t a mudblood you would already belong to me.”
“Thank Merlin for my dirty blood.” She sneered up at him. She was tired of kneeling at his feet and she had no idea why she’d stayed in the position so long. She got to her feet slowly and picked the cover up so she could wrap it around her body.
“I regret the old fool died before he could see you kneel at your rightful place.” Voldemort said as he watched her move away from him to a small-overstuffed chair. He shifted in his chair casually, leaning on the armrest to get a better view of her.
“You can kill me now if you think I would actually serve you.” She told him boldly.
He sat back in the chair and looked at her for a long while. She shifted and fidgeted under his gaze, obviously thinking up and disregarding plans of escape. When he finally spoke, she stilled completely.
“You will, in time.”
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