A/N- I wrote this story a while ago. A long while ago. I really, really liked the Hermione/Voldemort pairing but most stories I found were of Hermione being abused by Voldemort. I didn't want to write anything like that. So I started writing my own. This isn't my first of these stories, but it's one of my most favorite. I'm giving it an M rating to be safe. Also, this begins the New Year's Eve of Hermione's sixth year which would have made her of age in England and Scotland at the time. So any sexual encounters in this story happen when she is of age.

BTW, I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, places, things, etc. etc. etc. I make no money from this fiction. I respect JK Rowling, and am grateful that she create these characters. I just like changing things around.


Ever since Hermione Granger had entered the wizarding world, life had become complicated. Surprises were around every corner. Yet as she lay bound, and fortunately clothed, in Lord Voldemort's bed she felt no surprise. Terror was the only thing going through her mind. She was not lying in bed alone. Lord Voldemort was asleep next to her. Hermione had been a birthday present to him the evening before, courtesy of Dolohov, and Voldemort had tossed her into his bed before stripping down and falling asleep. He'd not even spoken to her. As Hermione looked outside through the window she could see that it was dawn. The first day of the New Year. A day that usually meant hope merely filled her with dread.

A yawn and stretch told her he was waking. He stretched again before turning to look at her. "Are you cold?"

She was surprised by the question, but nodded weakly. He pulled her to him and further under the covers, "I've always enjoyed having many blankets on the bed. It's very warm. English winters are the worst."

She just nodded again. He smirked. So she wasn't going to talk? That was odd. Snape said she never shut up. "This will be very dull if you don't talk to me."

"Just rape me and get it over with."

Voldemort frowned and Hermione prepared to pull away from him. "Why would I rape you?" He pushed her onto her back and leaned over her body, "You're a Muggleborn, correct?" She just nodded. "So you know what rape comes from. Why people do it. Tell me, Hermione Granger, why do people rape others?"

"P-power an-and control," she whispered. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Was he going to…

"And who, in this room, has those things?"

"You," she whispered.

"Now why would I need to rape you to attain that which I already have? And anyway," he leaned down to whisper into her ear, "I don't rape."

"Your Death Eaters do."

"And I can't control their every move. Can you control what your classmates do?"

"It's hardly…"

"You're a prefect. You are tipped to be head girl. Now answer the question, Hermione Granger. Can you control what your classmates do?"

"No," she admitted, "but it's not the same."

"Oh really? I would disagree with you. I was a prefect. And then head boy. Trust me, it is quite comparable. Now, onto business. I have been given you as a birthday present. I just need to figure out what to do with you."

"What…"

"Well I'm not going to keep you," he rolled onto his side and removed the bindings on her hands, rubbing her wrists. "You'll just get in the way. But make no mistake, Hermione. You are now mine. You will return to Hogwarts for your final year. After all, I can't deprive them of their Head Girl or you of your education. I think I should mark you but in a place the Order can't see it. A place you wouldn't want to show them."

Hermione was so confused she didn't even notice that he'd removed her leg bindings and then her clothes until his hand touched her stomach. "Oh!"

He chuckled, "Are you a virgin?" She just nodded. He smiled. Good. "Tell me, do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

Well that was just perfect for him. His smile became a grin. "Perfect." Hermione was now very scared. Being nude in a bed with the dark despot was bad. Very, very bad. She stayed frozen, terrified. "I'm going to order breakfast for us." He summoned a house elf and Hermione watched him order breakfast for them both. He slid on his dressing gown and grabbed another one, throwing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt to her along with the gown, "You can get dressed."

"Do I have to ask for permission to pee?"

He laughed and nodded her towards the bathroom, "And no you don't," he called after her.

Hermione peed and then decided to take a shower. She felt grimey. When she exited the bathroom in the clothes he'd given her breakfast had arrived. She ate with him until finally she dared to ask the question, "When can I return?"
"A day or two before the start of term." That was the last question she asked. He had a weird gleam in his red eyes when she'd asked it.


Two weeks later Hermione woke, as she always did these past weeks, in bed next to him. They were both clothed. She didn't feel beaten down, but she had become subservient to him. She did challenge him or question him, but if he commanded her to do something she would do it. Her first day he had made her watch as he tortured a traitor. Hermione was scared of him. But when he was in bed with her, he never tried anything. Even though Hermione knew he would not rape her, and she certainly knew that, she didn't push his temper past a certain point. He'd never said he didn't want to hurt her. Just not rape her. He stretched and turned to face her. "Today is a big day."

"Hmm?"

"You shall return to Hogwarts, you will throw yourself into your schooling and, if you need me, you need merely touch this mark," he cast the spell to remove her clothes and pointed his wand at her hip. A small tattoo appeared just below her hip. Hermione leaned her head forward to look at it. It was a snake wrapped around a wand. "My Death Eaters will know that it means you are mine. And to answer your next question, no. No one else has ever had this tattoo." That hadn't been Hermione's question. She stayed silent; honestly she was still wrapping her head around the fact that he was going to actually let her go. Voldemort left her naked and sat up. "I am going to be gone for a few months. If you are in danger, simply touch that tattoo and I will come to you. And Hermione Granger," he leaned over her, his lips only inches from her own, "don't try to set me up to be captured. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. There are worse things I can do to you than rape you."

She knew that. "I'll be good," she mumbled. He smiled and patted her head as he stood up.

After feeding her and making her take an oath not to reveal his location or plans to others she was released. What made it worse was that he'd told her his plans during her time with him. She knew, and could say nothing. She'd wondered why it didn't bug him but then it was obvious. For her, this was torture. He'd kissed her forcefully before taking her to Hogwarts and dropping her at the door, his hand lingering where the tattoo was, "Be good, my pet."

Hermione scowled at him and he just smirked before disappearing. When she entered the castle Dumbledore and McGonagall took her to the infirmary to see what was wrong. Hermione swore she was okay, that no he hadn't hurt her in any way and she was just tired and please let her go to bed. They agreed, both looking concerned. Before she left Dumbledore asked, "Did Riddle tell you anything?"

"He forced me to swear an oath not to reveal where I was or what he told me."

Dumbledore sighed. He didn't understand why she was released…maybe Voldemort didn't want her because she was Muggleborn. He let McGonagall walk her up to her dorm, "Get some rest Hermione. I'm sure you're exhausted."


When she left Hermione was alone in her room. Everyone would be back soon. She sighed. She couldn't do anything to stop him. Merlin she hated this. She walked up to the top of the Astronomy tower and looked up at the sky. "Don't try to kill yourself."

Two weeks ago she would have been surprised that he could get into Hogwarts. But now nothing fazed her. She turned to face him, "Why do you care? At least then you wouldn't torture me."

"Cowards kill themselves. You're not a coward." He moved to her and wrapped his cloak around her shoulders, guiding her to a bench to sit down, "They're convinced I hurt you, aren't they?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"What did you say?"

"The truth. You didn't hurt me and you made me swear an oath to not tell them anything about what you're doing or where you are."

"I leave tomorrow," he said, looking up at the stars, "do you think favorites are played in Hogwarts?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think the professors play favorites? Is one house favored over the others?"

Did he want her to say yes? Hermione frowned as she thought about it. "I guess the heads of houses favor their students more than others."

"Does it go further than that? Other professors, Dumbledore, and whatnot?"

"I-I guess Gryffindor. But I always assumed it's because Harry's in Gryffindor."

He shook his head, "When I was in Slytherin over half a century ago, Gryffindor was favored. Slytherin was always blamed for any and everything. If not by the students, by the faculty." That was certainly true today. Hermione said as much and he nodded, "It's rather funny, actually. Dumbledore always played favorites with his Gryffindors. Dippet did too, but with individual students. Like Slughorn, he didn't choose from a single house. He had students he liked in each. Dumbledore didn't like me from the first time he met me. It was obvious from the start."

"Why didn't he like you?"

"I was 11," he said, looking at her, "I don't remember. But I knew he didn't like me. It became more obvious as time went on. Maybe it was my heritage, maybe it was that living in a horrible orphanage taught me to be strong and stand up for myself…or maybe it's that I wasn't capable of empathy thanks to my thoughtless parents."

"What?"

"Love potions have side effects. Mostly to the children. The inability to love, to attach, to feel empathy…that's something that happens to us."

"Us?"

"I'm not the only one. I must find some ingredients. Then the potion will be brewed by a master potion maker."

"Snape?"

"Of course not. Then Dumbledore would know. No, another child of the love potion is making a batch for a large number of us."

"How many are there?"

"Twenty-nine," he answered. Hermione gasped in surprise, which he mistook for her being cold. "You should get inside where it's warm. Come on."

"But they'll see you."

"No they won't." He stood and disappeared. Hermione thought he'd Disapparated until his hand touched her shoulder. She stood and walked inside, him following her. He must have taken off his shoes because he was quiet as he walked with her back to the dorm. When they were in her room he reappeared and warded her door to prevent any sounds from escaping. He watched her change into her pajamas, his eyes lighting up when he saw the tattoo before she slid on her pajama bottoms. She put on a tank top after removing her bra and crawled into bed, not sure what he wanted with her. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into her bed with her. While his bed had been large so she hadn't had to lie very close to him, her bed was significantly smaller and so he lay on his side with an arm wrapped around her. "You're stuck with me," he whispered.

"But why?" That was the million dollar question. Each time he answered the same way, telling her she belonged to him. Typically it boiled down to 'you're mine'. In her time with him she'd learned he was very possessive. She didn't like that.

"Because you're my present," he answered.

Hermione was still thinking about the love potion, "Did the people who brewed it know of the risks?"

"Yes. It's in the books about how to make it. They simply didn't care," his callous attitude didn't really surprise her, but she felt bad for him. Unable to feel any of the emotions that followed you and guided you through life…she placed her hand on his chest, "Are you okay?"

"I never realized…you can't feel happiness, can you?" He shook his head and she moved closer to him, "do you feel any emotions?"

"I can hate." She could see he was annoyed with her so she dropped it. No reason to piss him off.

Hermione sighed. She had been wondering about something else ever since their first morning together, "Why did you call me a Muggleborn?"

"What?" Voldemort looked confused.

"In your room…you called me a Muggleborn. You didn't say Mudblood."

"I don't see why that even matters," he closed his eyes.

"It matters to me," she mumbled.

He didn't respond to her and she sighed. Merlin he was difficult. She still didn't understand what he wanted with her. That he'd marked her was understandable but why did he mark her? Why did he seem to care about her well-being?


Additional A/N- I kinda simplified the complex topic of rape. I understand this could upset people, and I apologize if it upsets you. That is most certainly not my intention. Certainly while those two things are prominent in rapes, they are not the only motives an evil, evil person might have in seeking to violate another person's body. I was trying to make a point about Voldemort and his limits. To his eyes (a man who lacks virtually all emotion) Voldemort sees no other reasons for rape than those discussed.