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The Greater Good is a Big Fat Lie

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“Still nothing to say, Mudblood?” Voldemort hissed at Hermione who lay prone at his feet.

The last thing she remembered was battling at the Department of Mysteries. A curse hit her abdomen, someone grabbed her from behind, and the world went black.

She awoke to the sound of dripping water. Pressing her hand against her abdomen she winced feeling the dull ache radiating throughout. Rubbing the grime from her eyes trying to adjust to the dim light adjusting her body to a sitting position. Three solid stone walls surrounded her, bars on the forth. A prison? .

She got her answer when Bellatrix cackled, tapping her wand against the cell to open the door and dragging her up a set of stairs by the hair, her body hitting each step as she struggled in her grasp, her body too weak to put up might of a fight.

Bellatrix’s maniacal laughter caused her to shiver. “There is no use in struggling, Mudblood. You are going to see My Lord.” She grinned back at her yanking harder on her hair. “Oh, yes. My Lord is very interested in you, Harry Potter’s Mudblood.”

Her mind was a muddled mess, her body ached from the curse. She hoped Harry and the others were able to escape the battle unharmed.

“Crucio.” Bellatrix screamed hitting Hermione with yet another round of pain.

The copper taste of her own blood grounded her. Her body arched a hoarse scream tore through her throat.

“Enough.” Voldemort said. Turning his head, he looked over at Lucius who stood to the side leaning heavily on his cane. “Lucius, bring me some of the legitimacy papers if you please. Perhaps we could loosen her tongue when we bring her family here.”

A broken sob was all Hermione could manage. Her body twitched on the cool floor trying to ignore the burning pain that ripped through her. The surrounding Death Eaters chuckled at her plight.

Voldemort yanked her hair into a sitting position. “No death for you I’m afraid.” He smiled down at her maliciously. “That is, not until I get the answers I seek.”

She flinched at the clicking of heels on the marble floor. Lucius wordlessly handed the parchment to Voldemort then shuffled back near his wife.

All the Death Eaters were present for this ‘special event. They had Harry Potter’s special Mudblood. There was no escape for her, all she could do was hope they would finally end her suffering. She wanted to die, eager even to embrace death to stop the pain.

Grasping Hermione’s wrist tightly he tightened his hold when she clenched her fists weakly struggling against his grasp. Shifting his grip, he raised his wand and sliced her wrist pulling her wound open over the parchment that lay on the floor watching as the crimson blood oozed from her flesh to the paper.

Shoving her away, he gathered up the parchment. His red eyes scanned the words as they slowly appeared. Sitting on his throne in the middle of the room he hunched over the parchment his eyes flicking to Hermione every now and then.

She was not a Mudblood.

She was his. HIS child.

Clenching his jaw with an audible click his eyes found Lucius. “Get me another,” he hissed.

Lucius's eyes widened for a moment. He turned on his heel hurrying out of the room.

Bellatrix sauntered to Hermione and nudged her with the toe of her boot and growled. “I will take immense pleasure in torturing your parents, you Mudblood whore.”

“Bella.” Voldemort snapped. “You will wait. Do not touch her again unless I give the order to do so.”

Simpering, Bellatrix gave him a wide smile before stepping on Hermione’s hand “accidentally” before she moved away.

Severus Snape, Death Eater, Potions Master at Hogwarts didn’t want to be here. He had no choice but to answer the call when The Dark Lord summoned him.

He tried not to flinch as the sound of crunching bones and Hermione’s pained cry. He narrowed his eyes at Bella. Thank Salazar for his Death Eater regalia. No one could see the sneer on his face directed towards the deranged woman.

Voldemort’s hiss of warning was a short reprieve for Hermione. At the sound from The Dark Lord’s throat, Bella stepped back.

When Severus arrived several days ago at Malfoy Manor, he had been shocked not only to see Hermione but at the condition he had found her.

He had been ordered to heal her. For what? Just to be tortured yet again.

He, of course, tormented her for years while she was in Hogwarts, but that was before she started working with him in private for the past two years. It was all part of the ruse as a spy to display his displeasure.


He didn’t hate her. Her swotty attitude he could understand. He didn’t suffer fools lightly, and apparently, she didn’t either. They were the same in that respect. She didn’t deserve this.

His time spent with her in private teaching potions became the one bright spot in his miserable life. She was intelligent, able to keep up with his own. She had matured over those years into a beautiful woman. He knew he was treading on forbidden territory, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her as his own. Completely. He knew that would never happen no matter how much he desired her. His feelings he once held for Lily was a pale comparison to what he felt for Hermione.

Now he was here watching as the girl turned a young woman he had respect for being tortured for the past two days. She had vomited all over herself from the pain. The pain he knew well. He supposed it could have been worse for her with the perversion Voldemort displayed during these rare rivals.

Small mercies.

He was not sure he could have stood by watching her being defiled. She was too pure for that.

His head turned watching Lucius’s confident steps towards Voldemort, Lucius handed him the new parchment. Voldemort reached out snatching Lucius’s hand in his own slicing Lucius’s hand hovering it over the new parchment.

A moment of silence.

The parchment flared as names appeared. Everything revealed Voldemort already knew about the Malfoy family.

Looking back at the parchment Hermione had bled on, his mind went back to when he disappeared the first time. Of course, he took pleasures of the flesh. He had plenty of willing women to suit his needs when they arose. What he didn’t know was that he had a child with one of those women.

Hermione’s name had appeared with her date of birth, and the faded names of two people he could not read, all he could make out was the word adopted.

Hermione Jean Granger (adopted name): DOB: 19 September 1979

Father: Tom Marvolo Riddle DOB: 31 December 1926

Mother: Felicity Èmeline Rosier: DOB: 14 March 1959-

The lines ran down the page revealing Voldemort’s own heritage, as well as Felicity’s.

The date after Felicity's birth shimmered before his eyes. The numbers after were faded and didn't appear. Was she dead? How was it that this girl was his? Looking down at Hermione laying at his feet, it was hard to discern her looks, considering her face was swollen from the abuse.

He recognized the curls of hair, Felicity had the same wild curls, although they should be black.

When her eyes opened looking up at Voldemort, he narrowed his own. Her eyes were the same shape as his. Whiskey-colored met crimson before her eyes fluttered shut.

If she was indeed his daughter, she should have blue eyes. Both he and Felicity both had blue eyes. Unless…. unless someone had cast a spell and had glamoured her. Whoever hid Hermione, had hidden her well. There was one person who would want to hide her from him.

Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione moved to her side rolling in a fetal position letting out a pained whimper. Bellatrix raised her wand towards her. “Crucio.”

Voldemort’s head snapped up to look at Bellatrix. He stood up, rage washed over him watching Bellatrix fire the curse. He told her not to touch the Hermione until he gave the order. His word was law. It was always law.

Raising his own wand, he hissed. “Avada Kedavra.” A stream of green light exploded from the end of his wand hitting Bellatrix in the chest launching her back several feet landing on the floor with a dull thud. Her lifeless eyes wide open.

He looked around the room. “All of you leave, with the exception of the Malfoys and Severus.” He pointed at Bellatrix. “Rodolphus, take your wife and dispose of her. Next time I give an order, I expect everyone to heed my warning.”

Two Death Eaters, each grabbing an arm of the dead Bellatrix dragged her body behind them, the others following after. When the last of them cleared the room, the door closed with a small ‘click’.

Voldemort leaned down picking Hermione up in his arms. “Come, we have much to discuss in regard to the girl.”

All of them followed Voldemort silently through the halls of the manor up the spiraling staircase towards the guest wing of the estate.

Severus was glad for Hermione’s reprieve, as short as it may be.

Entering his suite Voldemort laid Hermione gently on the bed stepping away, he looked over his shoulder. “Severus, I want you to heal her again.”

Severus stepped forward raising his wand running a diagnostic spell. He flicked his wrist summoning a parchment and quill to take down notes for him while his eyes scanned the runes that flashed before him.

Dehydration, muscle fatigue, several small bones broken in her left hand, small lacerations on her body seemingly everywhere from the Cruciatus, the wound from the unknown curse from before had opened again.

“Narcissa,” Voldemort called beckoning her to sit with him near the fireplace. “You knew Felicity Rosier, did you not?”

Narcissa sat down elegantly in the chair crossing her legs at her ankles. “Yes, My Lord. She…she was my best friend, a cousin.”

Leaning back Voldemort steepled his fingers. “As her best friend, I assume you knew she was with child.”

“She informed me as such, sadly she didn’t tell me who the father was. She disappeared just before she was to give birth which was strange, she was so excited to have the child. She disappeared on her way to the here, she was ready to give birth.” She closed her eyes for a moment before looking into the fire. “I was to be the child’s godmother, I tried to find them, but she just up and vanished.”

“I see.” Voldemort nodded towards the bed. “The child was mine. She is mine.”

“My Lord?” Narcissa’s eyes widened following his eyes to the girl. “You mean that girl, Granger is yours?”

With a nod, he handed her the parchment. “Of course, I had no idea that Felicity was pregnant, if I had known, I would have ensured that the child was brought to me and taken care of.”

Voldemort waved his hand.  A tumbler and a bottle of Firewhiskey  Returning to his seat, he down it, placing it on the small table. He needed to formulate a plan. Hermione was on the wrong side of the war. He would ensure that she would be kept by his side from now on. Keep her safe from Albus.

“I would like for you, Lucius to find out who her parents are, where they live. Go to the Ministry and get me her file. Everything that is available on her.”

Lucius gave a short nod before turning to leave the room, his body moving stiffly. He was shocked to learn that the girl in question was his master’s child. He hoped that Voldemort never found out how much his own son, Draco tormented the girl on his orders.

Severus stepped over to Voldemort. “I shall return shortly. I need to get several healing potions for Miss Granger.” He handed him a small parchment. “These are the details of what I have found so far.”

Voldemort waved him away. “Go. Make sure you make haste and return as quickly as you can.”

Voldemort stood walking over at Hermione brushing a small curl from her face. “She looks a lot like her mother.”

Narcissa joined him at the bedside taking in Hermione’s appearance truly for the first time. “She does,” She said quietly. “her curls especially.”

Voldemort grabbed Hermione’s hand looking down at the scarred flesh pulling it closer. He narrowed his eyes at the words that were engraved into her flesh. ‘I will respect my betters.’ He let out a small hiss lowering her hand gently back down.

“Ask a house-elf to help you Narcissa, I want her cleaned up after Severus returns and heals her. I will discuss the matter of my daughter when I return.”

Once she was healed, he would look to see if she indeed had been glamoured,  hiding her appearance. First, he needed to get some of the answers to his questions.

Albus would pay for taking away what was his. He would make sure of it.