The Contract (Hermoine/Voldemort story)

Chapter 5

Before Hermione found out she was a witch, she had been a very unhappy little girl. She had never had any close friends because of her know-it-all attitude, strict parents, unusual hair, and her love of knowledge. She tried to change. When she was five, she found a scissor and cut off all her hair. People didn't like her any better. When she was six, she tried not to be seen with her parents or tell anyone about them. People still didn't like her. When she was eight, she tried to be quiet all the time and only speak when spoken too. People still thought she was weird.

So, when she was informed that she was a witch, she finally had an explanation for why she was so weird. She thought things would get better. She had studied hard to know everything about wizards and witches and she was sure they would like her if she fit in. No one had. And then Harry and Ron saved her from the Mountain Troll and they both became her best friends. After that, people started to respect her instead of mocking her. At the age of twelve, she was finally happy.

Unfortunately, that happy time was over now. She was almost twenty and married to the Dark Lord – a man who disliked her just because she was a Muggle-born and friend to his enemy. She was no longer allowed to have her own life. She existed only because Lord Voldemort couldn't find a way to kill her. Yet.

Hermione was certain he would kill her when the opportunity arose. The only thing standing in his way was the Contract. If he destroyed it, her life wouldn't be worth a Knut. Hermione knew this, and when she realised an innocent Muggle died because of her, she swore a silent oath not to let it happen again.

Voldemort returned at dusk with a smile on his face and blood on his robes. He looked at her with the most sadistic smile she had ever seen and then he stepped into the bathroom to take a shower. She knew what that look meant. He had killed someone only because she made him angry.

"I despise you," she hissed when he returned to bed.

"I know," he chuckled. "And I don't care. Will you be a good and obeying wife now?"

She clenched her fists. "Yes."

He snorted. "Why do I not believe you? I will be nice and I advise you to keep me happy from here on."

"What makes you happy, then?" She tried to stay calm. She would very much like to hit him where it hurts.

He suddenly rolled on top of her and pressed her hands into the mattress. His eyes were almost glowing in the dark. "Use your imagination."

Hermione could feel her heart speed up.

"Do I frighten you?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "I would be a fool if I wasn't frightened by you."

"True," he said with a smirk. "Yet, you are the only one who is safe from me… physically at least. You know, I have thought about that. Would I be able to harm you if I used a wand?"

Hermione's eyes widened. He couldn't… oh, of course he could and would. He flicked his hand and suddenly his wand appeared. She tried to get loose, but he held her down. He put his wand at her neck and started to whisper "Cru…". Then he hissed and fell down on her.

"I guess not," he mumbled into her ear. "You're heart is beating like a drum."

He was right. She was almost crying out of fright. He nearly cursed her! If he found a way to hurt her she would probably be…

"What are you doing?" she asked when she felt his hands in her hair.

He lifted his head and looked at her. Then he looked at her hair. "I like it." Then he let go of her and rolled off.