Well, its been fun, but here's the last chapter :(

Glad you guys have enjoyed it, reading your reviews gave me the inspiration to keep going, so thank you so much :)

She woke in her own bed, her muscles groaning and twitching with each movement she made. She wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, but she had to see what orders she had today from her Master. Maybe it would tell her why he was so angry.

Hands pushed her back down.


"Rest, pet."


"Don't disobey me, little witch. Your muscles took heavy curse damage yesterday. They need to recover."

Hermione relaxed in his grip.

"Yes, Master."

"Come here, little witch."

Her Master stood next to the door to his study, the only way out of the rooms that had become Hermione's world and prison.

She was cowering by the bathroom door, as far as she could get from the exit she both feared and craved.

Her Master frowned, clearly annoyed. She inched forward a little bit on seeing this, but not enough to satisfy him.

"Pet. Get here," he pointed at his feet, "now."

She straightened at his tone and scurried over to him immediately, falling to her knees at his feet.

His eyes softened slightly at the sight of her bowed head and quivering form, before he remembered the cause of his annoyance .

"We're going out."

Hermione peered up at him worriedly.

"Don't be alarmed, no one will hurt you."

She nodded in acceptance, slowly getting to her feet whilst keeping her eyes down.

The study door opened, and her Master stepped through. Hermione looked over the threshold at her Master, who stood silently watching her.

She took a breath and stepped over.

She panicked.

What in the name of Merlin was she doing inside her Master's study? She had no right to be in here. She reached out blindly, her hands grabbed soft cloth and she buried her face in it. The arms of her Master encircled her and she breathed in the smell of power and magic.

"I'm sorry Master." She whimpered against his robes.

"It's alright pet, I told you to always rely on me and that includes times like this."

"Thank you Master."

Her Master led her from the room, but allowed her to keep a hold of his robes.

They walked through opulent corridors towards a large hall shrouded in blackness. The focus of the room centred towards an ornate dais flanked by striking basilisks. He escorted her up the steps, gesturing for her to kneel by his throne. She did so cautiously, not stopping her frantic examination of the room. It appeared empty, but the shadows were long and could hide who knew how many people.

A warm weight rested on her head, long fingers burying themselves in her stubborn curls. She relaxed at his familiar touch. Her Master was here. No harm could befall her.

Robed men spilled in from the corners of the room, their black cloaks making them one with the dark d├ęcor. As one they fell to their knees at the sight of the Dark Lord. His power swept over and through them all, Hermione sighed in delight at the feel of it. To her it was a sign that she was safe and cared for. For her there was none of the fear that had the lower ranked Death Eaters shivering.

"Bring in the prisoners." His voice was cold and sharp, so different to how he was with her. With her he was calm and understanding. This was the Dark Lord that the rest of the world saw. Hermione felt privileged that she saw other sides to him.

Four people shuffled in. They were shackled and bore evidence of torture. Hermione regarded them with only mild interest, wondering if these four were the cause of her Master's ire, focusing only on the hand stroking her hair.

One prisoner dared to look up at the dais, refusing to avert his eyes from the ruler of Magical Britain.

"Mione?" he whispered in shock. In the silent room his words were like a gun shot, and Hermione stiffened. She knew that voice, and now that she properly looked at the beaten prisoners she realised she knew them all.

Bill Weasley.

Fleur Delacour.

Nymphadora Tonks.

Oliver Wood.

Her chest contracted, she couldn't get enough air. No, they couldn't be here. She had mourned her friends, mourned them all. They were all dead.

But here they were, alive and at the mercy of the one she called Master.

Fat tears rolled down her face as she faced them, their shocked eyes like daggers to her heart. They had mourned her too, she realised. Her sobs grew in the silent room, and they only increased when her Master lifted her to sit on his lap. She turned and buried her face in his robes begging for him to show mercy on her friends.

His hands rubbed her back soothingly, the smell of power and magic ensconcing her in warmth. It was in that moment that she knew without a doubt that to leave her Master would cripple her completely.

Her sobs returned anew as she threw away any dreams of the outside, or chats with her friends. For her life would revolve around the one being that made up her entire world.

The intensity of her revelation scared her somewhat, and somewhere in her mind she wondered if this was what love felt like. An all-encompassing need to be with that person, to make that person happy, to rely on them.

Bill looked at the display of affection with disgust, something which did not go unnoticed by the Dark Lord.

"Now do you see why your little rescue attempt was useless?" Her Master's voice was quiet. There was no threat in his voice, no victory, only a quiet stating of facts. "She doesn't want to leave."

"Please don't hurt them." The Dark Lord's pet begged in a voice only he could hear.

He looked over the rebels considering, musing that it only really took one to carry a message. He glanced down at the fragile little witch in his arms and something in his heart softened. He was not a good man, nowhere near in fact, and she was nothing but a pet to be used for his own gains. But something about the vulnerable woman tormented him. She trusted and relied on him in all things, and what had she said that night he cursed her in his rage? That it was okay, because she was a good pet. His own words came back to him, good pets were rewarded.

"She begs for your safety," he told the prisoners, blood traitors all. He paused, once more reflecting on the wisdom of his decision.

"Let them go," he said eventually, "my pet deserves a reward."

He swept out of the room, not bothering to see that the prisoners were escorted out. His orders would be followed. His words were law.

Hermione was vaguely aware of her Master carrying her in his arms, but she could do nothing but sob and thank him, laying little kisses over his shoulder and exposed neck. She didn't notice her Master's shiver at her actions.

They reached his rooms, but her Master did not let go of his precious pet.

"Hush now, Hermione, they have been set free and will never seek to separate us again."


Her Master had spoken her name.

She raised her head from his shoulder to look at him with shining eyes.

"Promise, Master?" she whispered.

"You are mine now Hermione, my pet. I collected you from the battle field and have given your life safety and happiness. I am a generous lord."

Hermione smiled happily at him, and returned to her spot against his shoulder, snuggling against the fabric and running her nose against his neck.

The Dark Lord allowed a smile to creep across his face at her actions.

She was his, his pet, and now the key to the destruction of the rebels. Her devotion to him was so apparent, that they would not fight him again. Not after the sight of their precious Gryffindor Princess clad in green and flanked by snakes, willingly resting against the most dangerous of them all.

Lord Voldemort had been a patient man with the little witch, but now it was time to fully reap his spoils of war.


This has changed so much since the time I planned it out. There was going to be a lemon at the end, but I just can't seem to write Lord Voldemort acting in a sexual manner. Hopefully some of this wasn't too 'lovey-dovey', I hoped to convey the fact that no matter how nice he was being to Hermione, the Dark Lord is not nice. At all.

Hope you enjoyed,

much hugs

Lizzie Hopscotch