The Gold Puppet

Disclaimer: Still not ours, and yes, you guessed correctly ... we get no money from posting this chapter either.

By: Serpent In Red and Nerys

A/N: We'd like to thank everyone who reviewed: Lady Miya, Risotto, mel, Devourer, hero_jaejoong, VoldyLuv2 and patie.

hero_jaejoong: *Raises hand too and jumps up and down with hero.* We're glad you enjoyed the chapter and we'll see what we can do about the favour. There must be some place we might be able to stick it in. What are you "spreading the love" for, btw?
You're right: Tom is not immortal due to any Horcruxes anymore, since they no longer exist. OK, two more hints but that's it, because it will all become clearer in later chapters. Ch 2: ""It can hold its contents forever, you know. Nothing in it will ever go stale or bad." Ch 3: "He'd known it would happen, being that his very creation was connected to her life-force. If he had known in advance it would be a stinking Mudblood daring to desecrate his cup, he would have thought of another method to protect it. But he was stuck with her now; it was absolutely revolting." Hope this helps a bit, though you are still missing some pieces of the puzzle, so...
Anyway, moving on, thanks for your review.

VoldyLuv2: I am glad you enjoyed both stories. I definitely won't quit Apprentice. It's just in one of those slow muse periods at the moment, which is why it's not updated as often right now, because the chapters are fighting with me. LOL. But that's normal, so I am not worried. I have tons of ideas on what else needs to happen and where that story needs to go to in the end, so it will definitely continue - no need to worry. Thanks for reviewing.

Risotto: Well, not just the Weasleys but basically everyone who has been in his way, except of course for Hermione. LOL. "Weeee hot stuff! Me like! Me want more!" - Hope you enjoy the lemon in this chapter. Thanks.

mel: It's nice to hear you check our story frequently for updates. We'll do our best to keep up the pace of our updates, depending on RL and other stories needing to be written as well. We're happy you love this story and we thank you for your kind review.

Devourer: Cliffie, what cliffie? (CWC instead of EWE). We enjoyed having Hermione take control. It's a nice change from the other fics both of us are writing where Hermione is more submissive. And it's nice to "best" Tom Riddle for a change. *winks* Yep, we both would, too. But it's Hermione who gets all the fun. *sobs* And we couldn't resist the temptation of making Ron (lol about "the schmuck") watch it all. XD Thanks.

---

The Gold Puppet

Chapter 15

Tom picked her up by her waist and carried her to the bedroom, while Hermione grabbed his face and brought her lips to his, kissing him hungrily and circling her legs around his waist. Half-heartedly, she heard the sound of something dropping on the floor. She didn't know what it was, nor did she bother checking, until he untangled her from his body and placed her on the bed. She reached for her wand, only to find that it was no longer in the holster under her blouse on her back.

A low growl escaped her throat when she realised that he was the one who nicked it.

He chuckled softly against her lips at her frustration, while he placed his hands on either side of her seated form on the bed, boxing her in. As she quickly tried to scatter back to regain the upper hand, he followed suit, grabbing her leg and yanking her forcefully underneath his crawling form. Tom, quickly, lowered his body to keep her contained there and smirked at her exasperated expression.

"Missing something, darling?" he asked tauntingly, biting her lower lip gently.

"Yes," she answered through gritted teeth.

"How unfortunate," he said dramatically.

"You stole my wand," she accused as he scattered kisses across her cheek until he reached her ear. She shivered when he ran his tongue over that sensitive part beneath her ear.

"Not really," he sniggered, straightening up a bit so that they were looking at one another again, "after all, I don't have it on me. It's quite happily staying under that armchair near the bookshelf."

As if to vent her anger, she grabbed him by his shirt and pulled on it, successfully ripping it apart. With satisfaction, she listened to the sounds of the buttons flying off in different directions and hitting different things in the room.

His eyes slightly darkened at her actions, and she quirked an eyebrow at him, as if she was daring him. In a sensual, lithe move, he lifted his lower body and rested it on the side against the line of hers. His left leg entangled with hers, while her left arm was caught underneath his armpit—his wandhand propped underneath his head, he looked down at her darkly.

"I do recall," he said softly, bringing his left hand underneath her skirt to the lining of her panties, "that I've warned you about ripping my shirt."

"Oops," she replied snarkily.

He sent her a glare, which was meant to frighten her, but it caused her to giggle instead. With a fluid motion, he grabbed a handful of her underwear, and she softly yelped when the sound of fabric ripping echoed through the room. A blush blossomed on her face as he glanced back at her, a devilish smirk on his face, and his fingers slowly caressed the area where the lining of her knickers had been.

"Oops, indeed," he taunted.

She, however, didn't answer and was suddenly conscious of the fact that he hadn't exactly seen her naked before. So she lowered her eyes, but then clearly witnessed how his hand moved under her skirt. Her hips and her inner thigh still burned from him destroying her underwear, but it only made his caresses seem more gentle and sensual.

She groaned in protest when he removed his hand without so much as brushing against her arousal and sent him a glare. He grinned at her and grabbed the fabric of her shirt between his long fingers.

"My turn," he said mockingly, throwing her words right back at her.

Violently, Tom ripped apart her shirt, too, revealing her green lace bra. For some reason, his actions excited her, and gooseflesh erupted across her arms and legs. He must have felt her shudder against his body, since he gave her a teasing look. Swiftly, he swirled back on top of her, until his head was hovering directly above her left breast.

"Interesting choice of colour," he commented, a smile tugging at the left corner of his lips. His eyes met with hers. "I thought you were supposed to be in Gryffindor."

Something flashed through her eyes—confusion and realisation at the same time—and she answered in a voice close to a whisper, "That doesn't mean I have to hate the colour green."

But he knew what she was thinking; he saw what she was thinking. It was also the same reason why she constantly wore skirts nowadays: the Reality Distortion Curse had affected her more than she wanted to believe. That knowledge made a feral glint appear in his eyes, and he lowered his head, enclosing his mouth around her still covered nipple, while his other hand found her other breast. To his delight, he felt her body jerk spasmodically underneath him every time he sucked and fondled her nipples.

She grabbed his head with her left hand, while her right hand held on to his arm for the support she now so desperately needed. A whimper escaped her mouth as she bit her lower lip and dug her fingernails into his arm, causing him to moan. The vibrations from his mouth made her tighten her hold on his head.

He suddenly smirked, though he didn't stop sucking on her now hardened nipple. Slipping his fingers between her bra and her skin, he curled his wandhand into a fist around the lace. With a swift movement, in which he lifted his head briefly, the fabric was magically ripped to pieces and her breasts were released from their confinement before he caught her nipple between his lips again, not wasting a second of time.

"You're ... destroying ... ooooh ... all ... my clothes," she commented in intervals, amusement laced throughout her words and her face flushed from excitement.

Apparently, she didn't mind it all that much.

"Not yet," he replied, abandoning her breast, and with another motion, her skirt ended up in shreds on the floor.

She was breathing heavily now, shyness about her own body causing the blush on her face to deepen—and he had thought that she'd reached the reddest shade already.

However, her shyness did nothing to stop her from stroking his arm. Her hand then travelled to his chest while she kept her eyes on his face, noting which of her moves caused him to close his eyes in pleasure. Her hand lingered at his waist, purposely teasing him and not making any moves to unzip his pants as he wanted her to do. But he held back the frustrated growl that threatened to leave his lips unwanted. She wasn't going to best him again.

Her other hand left his head and moved down, where she proceeded to gently caress his rather apparent erection, skimming his utterly blank facade for some form of reaction, wanting to gain control.

He kept his attention on her face, his expression impassive but his eyes intense. Just when Hermione thought he wasn't going to move ever again, his eyes flickered downward and his hand slid over her hip. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he flicked his wrist, a burst of his magic hit her clit, making her thrash right underneath him. The sound of his chuckle washed over her, and her mind set on retaliation, she gripped on to the fabric of his pants' waistline with both hands.

"Not a good idea, Hermione," he said softly, his eyes never so much as blinking as he ran his fingers up the inside of her right thigh.

That sounded very much like a letter of challenge to Hermione. So, she tugged at his pants. However, to her dismay, it was a lot sturdier than his shirt and wouldn't budge. He laughed at her frustration.

"My naughty, little, impatient witch," he said, turning his head to face her again.

With a smile, he kissed her, and her heart skipped a beat when his hand finally reached her core and one of his finger flicked over her clit teasingly. She bucked towards him when he started to fondle her, all the while his tongue titillating hers. With quick and nimble movements, she unzipped his pants and pushed it down, although she wasn't able to completely take it off, since he was lying on top of it and her arms couldn't reach that far down.

Startled, he parted with her lips, only to find her smirking, pleased, at him.

"You never said I couldn't take them off now, did you?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Taking advantage of his astonished state, she started to run her fingers up and down his cock. At her actions, he unfroze, and with a growl, brought their lips together again. She responded to his kiss, fighting vehemently for the dominance that he would not hand over. It annoyed and enticed her at the same time. She loved a good challenge.

But she saw her opening when his body spasmed and slid to her left due to her ministrations. Quickly, she used his momentum to swing him further on his back, while she curled on top of him, trying to box him in as fast as she could. Triumphantly, she grinned at him and hovered just above his lips teasingly.

"There," she whispered, satisfied, "much better."

A raised eyebrow was his response, and he sighed, lowering his eyes, feigning severe disappointment at his apparent loss.

"Oh, let me kiss you and make it all better," she teased, leaning into him.

But when he looked up, she froze, because he had the most victorious evil glint in his eyes.

"I said," he glowered, pressing his full palm against her nether regions, reminding her he still had his wandhand there, "my turn."

Her eyes widened right before he unleashed his magic, which caused her to thrash on top of him. The most delicious tingles travelled up and down her body, making her toes curl and her mind a dizzying place. When she came down from her too short climax, she lay on her back and he hovered above her again. Hermione let out a furious snarl, making him chuckle and kiss her cheek teasingly, while his hand stroked the inside of her thigh, moving up and avoiding all those places she really needed him to touch.

"Tease."

"Little insolent witches need to be taught their place," he remarked ever so casually.

Her mouth opened to inform him just exactly which place he needed to be "teaching", but she froze when he entered her rather suddenly with one of his fingers, causing him to grin at her shocked surprise.

Languorously, he lifted his head and propped it up on his hand, carefully watching her somewhat pained expression as he slid his finger ever so slowly in and out of her cunt, though she didn't tell him to stop. Instead she spread her legs wider and tilted her hips to grant him better access. Wild delight appeared on his face at what he supposed was submission on her part—after all, it was clear to him that she was still a virgin. His eyes darkened even more when he saw another form of discomfort appear on her face—she wanted something more. Something he knew only he could provide her with, and he wasn't granting her another climax until she'd succumb fully.

Suddenly, her eyes flickered over to him and she gave him a brilliant smile before she enclosed her fingers around his cock and started pumping him at the same speed he was moving his finger in her. His eyes narrowed, and he inserted another finger into her, attempting to force her to surrender. She squirmed underneath him and he adored the way she bit her lower lip to prevent herself from crying out loud. Just when he was sure she was going to cry uncle, and he could claim his victory and her, she reciprocated by adding more pressure on his cock, occasionally allowing her nails to scratch him.

He closed his eyes and groaned in rapture.

She knew he enjoyed a bit of pain, but he'd be damned if he allowed the little Mudblood to dominate him, again. Good thing he was excellent with multi-tasking, although Hermione was doing quite an excellent job at distracting him, but whatever Lord Voldemort set out to do, he would accomplish. And he was rewarded greatly when Hermione shuddered and moaned loudly the moment his magic also slithered into her core. So, he continued flexing little bits of magic down there, not enough to make her come, but enough to cause her serious problems doing anything else but focus on his actions, his moves, and his guidance. This witch was his and she would learn to behave accordingly, and that meant she had to keep her hands to herself unless he gave her permission.

He grinned maliciously and inserted his fingers as far as he could before making a rotation motion with his wrist, causing him to caress and put pressure on every inch of her walls, while his thumb circled over her clit. The reaction was precious. Her whole body writhed and her hands flayed around in distress and rapture. He enjoyed how she threw her head from side to side and bit down hard on her lip. The moment she drew blood, however, something primal took over him and he removed his hand to lower his body on top of hers, pressing her into the mattress with his full weight.

Upon seeing the animalistic glint in his eyes, a faint smile appeared on her face, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Their foreheads touched and she stared right into his eyes. His tongue flicked out and he lapped up the droplet of blood that had condensed on her lip.

"You're mine," he whispered, his eyes glowing dangerously.

This woman was his, and he wasn't planning on letting her go. Forever.

Her smile widened and she kissed him softly, giving him her confirmation, while one of her hands ran through his hair, massaging the back of his head.

He kissed her back harshly, and he pulled up her right leg, while his leg pushed her left leg outwards. Her breath hitched when he shifted and she felt the tip of his cock brushing against her.

Her answer was not enough for him.

"You. Are. Mine ... Hermione," he repeated, his grip on her leg tightening as a warning.

But she wasn't afraid; it was obvious that none of his actions scared her. It made him frustrated; he wasn't used to the idea of a person, let alone a Mudblood not following his orders. However, at the same time, it aroused him, how she didn't back down from his challenges.

She laughed quietly, giving him a peck on his nose.

"I'm yours," she conceded with a nod before she tilted her head slightly to one side and lowered her tone to a hiss, "but you ... belong to me."

Nobody had ever had the nerve to make such a statement to Lord Voldemort. With a growl, he thrust into her, determined to punish her for her insolence.

She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth together, determined not to let a bit of pain get the best of her and make her seem weak.

But his cock was considerably thicker and longer than his fingers and he was using it with a lot more force, not giving her inexperienced muscles time to adjust to the new sensation of having something pump in and out of her this roughly. The pain was too much and she needed him to stop moving, now!

She could tell by his predatory expression out was not an option. So, her arms tightened around his shoulders, while she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in further. A brief whimper left her lips and she clenched her legs, trying to force him to remain there. Her eyelids pressed together in agony.

Tom cherished that look on her face, so he complied and stayed still when he was fully sheathed inside her, savouring the feeling of her sweet, tight cavern wrapped around him. He felt her adapt to his presence and allowed her to relax her muscles. Gently, he stroked the side of her perspiring face and captured her lips in soft kiss. When he withdrew his mouth from hers, her eyes were open again and the way she looked at him ... the darkness in her eyes ... it thoroughly excited him.

He lowered his mouth to her neck, running his tongue over the length of it till he reached her ear. He sucked on the sensitive part beneath her ear as he began to move again, pumping inside of her at a slow pace now, having her work with him as he filled her tight passage over and over and over again.

The combination of pain and pleasure caused a thin sheen of sweat to cover Hermione's body.

Gradually, the pain started to subside and the sensations began tormenting Hermione—she needed the friction. Irritated, she sent him a glare, to which he returned with a half-hearted smirk. Evidently, he was being tortured, too.

But right now, she didn't care much about his torment. Hers was the only thing on her mind, and he should bloody well move faster and harder to give her what she desired. So, she clenched her walls around his hardness instead of trying to relax her muscles to stay as wide as possible to grant herself some comfort.

Her action nearly made him lose control of himself.

This was ... surprising, to say the least, to Tom. His little witch was truly full of surprises and left him wondering what she'd do next. Before he could open his mouth and ask, she clenched around him again, causing a groan to leave his mouth instead. But he kept moving at the same tardy pace deliberately, having an inkling as to what she wanted from him and feeling very curious to how she would go about achieving it.

"Falling asleep on me?" she taunted.

He should have known.

A soft chuckle left his mouth and he said, "You'll see how ... very much awake I am if you learn some manners."

"How courteous of you," she said, mockery dripping from her voice and her expression, "to take the time now to teach me things. I feel soooo privileged."

She was daring him; he could see it in her eyes and feel it in the stance of her body.

Blasted woman.

A flash of red passed through his eyes and he started to move at a rhythm that was nearly too quick for her to catch up. If she wanted it hard and fast, she'd find out just how hard and fast Lord Voldemort could go. And no amount of begging or pleading would make him stop now.

But she didn't beg or plead. She met his thrust with equal force and determination. Sweat drops twinkled on her upper lip and her breaths came out in a ragged wheeze. Soon, her yells of pleasure filled the room as he brought her closer and closer to that edge.

With a swift move, Tom sat up, carrying Hermione with him, his hands firmly gripped into her waist. The gravity that now accompanied his thrusts brought the sensations to a whole new level, making her pull him closer as if he was some kind of support, a lifesaver in the ocean. As she bounced up and down his shaft, she extended her hands, cupping his face and kissing him tenderly on his lips before letting her lips travel to other parts of his face. Her hands roamed through his hair down to his neck and caressing the sides of his back up and down, until she felt it coming and grabbed a hold of him panicky, afraid to fall over in that moment of total abandonment.

She tightened her legs around him, and at the moment when she climaxed, she screamed.

"My Lord!"

Upon hearing what she cried out, Tom couldn't hold it back any longer and immediately came, too.

As she slowly came down from her high, Hermione remained in his arms. Horror and satisfaction settled in at the same time, tingling her skin. His arms were still circled around her waist and her hands were still clutching to his shoulders, but her whole body was shivering ever so slightly.

No, no, no. It was impossible. She was just imagining things. She refused to believe that she had called out ... that when she climaxed. Seth and Lord Voldemort were ... Seth and Lord Voldemort ...

Her eyes flashed over his body, taking in every detail. Some sort of realisation slowly sank in, and cautiously, she tilted her head, until she was staring directly into his dark eyes. His face was impassive, hiding what he was thinking. She had seen that flash of red go through his eyes; she'd known then, yet she'd allowed him to continue fucking her. She'd wanted him to continue fucking her. She hadn't cared about a single thing in that moment except her own pleasure. Her body went cold when she realised what she had done. Shame and guilt crashed down on her; her eyes ablaze, she mustered all the strength she had and was about to move her arm back and swing her fist at him when she felt a wooden tip press into the side of her head.

Before she could hear what he muttered, she felt every part of her body except for her head turn rigid. Her hands still held intimately onto his shoulders instead of connecting violently with his nose. She glared at him, and he gave her a mocking smirk in return.

"What's the matter ... honey?" he asked tauntingly, waving his wand over his throat and ending the voice-changing charm, right before saying that particular endearment in his own smooth speech.

Fury at herself and him swept through her body, very nearly making her faint right there had she not remembered that she was facing him. The fact that she was naked and still in his arms, while his cock softened inside of her, made a furious blush appear on her cheeks.

Delighted, he laughed and placed a kiss on her shoulder as one of his hands massaged the spinal cords at her lower back; she felt her nerves sending thousands of messages to her body, but it was unable to respond, despite the overwhelming tickling sensation that made her want to move.

"Too shocked?" he asked softly as he nibbled gently at her shoulder joint and made his way up to her neck. "Or are you too ... overjoyed?"

His breath tickled her skin and would've caused her to shiver if she hadn't been immobilised.

"In your dreams, Voldemort," she hissed.

He chuckled against her skin, causing the vibration to travel up and down her spine, before he kissed her at the junction where her neck connected with her shoulder.

"I really do prefer hearing you call me,"—he paused, smiling, as he ran his free hand up to her head and pulled it to one side roughly by her hair, so that he could have better access—, "'My Lord.'"

If she hadn't known that pain excited him, she would've bitten him while he laughed so joyously. Therefore, she remained silent, not knowing what he planned to do or what she should do now.

"My intelligent, little Mudblood," he said, grazing his teeth over neck and shoulder, while letting his hand travel from her waist to her breast. He smirked when her nipple started to harden again as he fondled her. "I knew you would find out sooner or later who I am," he breathed in her ear, "but I never expected it to happen so early and at such a convenient moment, too."

He glanced at her and she averted her eyes, shameful that she was starting to get aroused by his simple ministrations.

"I can hardly wait until you succumb to me," he sighed, placing kisses on her neck and finally taking her earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Her eyes fluttered shut and her tongue flickered out, moistening her dry lips.

"Don't hold your breath waiting," she replied, breathless.

He released her earlobe and chuckled, presumably because of what she'd said or perhaps because of her body's contradictory reactions to her statement. Actions meant more than words.

"It's not all that hypothetical," Tom commented, his eyes glittering all too merrily. "After all,"—he leaned back slightly and looked at her triumphantly—, "you had no problem being fucked by me, even when you knew who I was." He watched her face as she panted in his embrace, her eyes blinking but no longer averting his gaze. He could tell she wanted more from him and hated herself for it. "I wonder how dear Harry would react, if he knew that his best friend slept with his mortal enemy, freely and knowingly." He laughed; his body's tremble shifted his soft cock inside of her and her eyes unfocused briefly when he rubbed over her clit accidentally. "You will be very useful to me, indeed, once you've learnt where your loyalties should lie and who you truly belong to."

"Harry ... Harry's my friend," she breathed out.

He leaned forward again, until his lips were right next to her ear.

"You need to stop lying to yourself and acknowledge the truth, Hermione," he whispered. "You know you belong to me." He grinned. "You want your little dream to be real. You want to be my slave, owned and controlled by me, the greatest wizard in the world. You want to be fucked thoroughly by me, whenever and wherever I want."

She shook her head from side to side, denying what he said, though she couldn't stop herself from getting wet from his words and what he was doing to her.

And she knew he could feel it.

"Someday soon, Hermione," he promised softly into her ear as he laid her down onto the bed. "Someday soon, you will belong to me ... completely."

With a flick of his wand, she lost consciousness. With another flick of his wand, he cast the Reality Distortion Curse on her again, painting the illusion in her ear to make sure she'd recall all about her wonderful time with Seth MacDougal and nothing else. He couldn't risk letting her remember who he was just yet, not until he was sure that she would no longer attack him over it.

But he was certain that that day would arrive soon, given her reactions to him today maybe even sooner than he had counted on. Potter wouldn't know what hit him when his best friend raised her wand towards him.

When he was finally finished with the curse, he gently caressed Hermione's hair before he rose from the bed. With a swirl of his wand, his clothes repaired themselves and flew back to his body, and he strolled over to the cauldron of potion in the kitchen. He needed to add the illegal ingredients while Hermione slept. It wouldn't settle well with her if she knew what, exactly, needed to be added to the potion.

He chuckled; not to mention the fact that Seth MacDougal still had a ... reputation to maintain.

---

Scattering absentmindedly through his scrolls, Healer Lewis waited in clear anticipation of what was to come. "Seth" had told Hermione that he had an interview to attend to back in London. That part wasn't exactly a lie, since he was meeting with someone—Harry, to be exact—at St. Mungo's, but it wasn't for a job. So, after reassuring Hermione that the potion would be ready soon and that he would be back right before dinner, he had Apparated back to his flat, taken a swig of Polyjuice Potion, and had arrived at St. Mungo's twenty minutes prior.

He had to be careful with his moves, his gestures, and his word-choice around Potter, but he had some trouble removing that smirk of expectancy from his face today. This was going to be fun, deliciously evil fun. And he would make sure to show the cup just how much fun it had been. After all, her rant had sparked this idea in his mind.

Caringly, his fingers caressed the little stone hospital Pensieve at the corner of his desk. It was a cheap version with the activating runes written on it instead of carved, but it would do the deed and that was all he needed. A Pensieve was such a useful instrument to show people incorrect memories if you knew what you were doing.

A cold laugh rolled off his tongue.

False memories usually showed themselves explicitly with signs of abruptness, clouds of mist surrounding the lies, and clear signs of scenes being cut and pasted together. However, this would not happen if the entire memory never existed—if all of it was a fraud. Then, it would seem like the real deal and he needed that, because he knew Potter had witnessed what a false memory looked like. His fingers clenched together for a moment, but then he unclenched them as he recalled how exquisitely Slughorn had gone off to meet his maker. Lord Voldemort's justice had been swift for the man. Potter should wish to be so lucky.

No, today, the wonderful, heroic, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Saint Potter would find out just exactly why his girlfriend snapped on the day he had been "victorious". Poor, pure, and innocent Ginevra was no longer in any condition to correct what he would show Potter, and it hadn't been too hard to implant flashes of those false memories into her fogged hallucinatory mind, so they could haunt her, too—in tenfold since he hadn't given her the antidote of his other potion yet. But, depending on how Potter would react to it all, Lord Voldemort would decide on her fate— he wasn't going to just take Granger's word on what was the right approach for him to take with the silly, redheaded, uptight maiden.

With fondness, he looked at the wooden box filled with several glass vials, all containing a swirling silvery substance—some of his best creations ever. And that was saying something, for Lord Voldemort was and always would be the most extraordinary wizard on the face of this earth.

A knock on his door ended his gleeful expression, though not the emotion inside of him. On the contrary, that one heightened. Quickly, he took an additional dose of Polyjuice Potion and pocketed the flask. He wanted to enjoy this to the maximum and be able to take his time with Potter.

Oh, he was going to take his time.

"Enter," he replied in a business-like voice, pretending to be emerged in the scrolls in front of him.

The bothersome boy entered and he waved absentmindedly with his hand to the chair in front of the desk. "Have a seat, Mr. Potter; I'll be right with you after I've finished these notes."

From his peripheral vision, he noticed Harry giving a short nod and sitting down in the chair indicated to him. A brief smirk appeared on his face when he saw the wary way Harry stared at the Pensieve.

This was going to be very entertaining indeed.

A few minutes later, he closed the file in front of him, clasped his hands together, and gave Harry a kindly smile.

"Sorry that I've kept you waiting, Mr. Potter," Healer Lewis said apologetically.

"It's alright. I ... should thank you for meeting with me. I know you have a lot of patients to attend to," Harry replied, pushing his glasses back into place and smiling graciously.

If only Harry knew exactly whom he was being thankful towards. The irony of the situation was delicious.

Healer Lewis leaned forward, a frown on his forehead.

"There's no need for thanks," he sighed.

"Is there something wrong with Ginny?" Harry asked, alarmed at the forlorn expression on the Healer's face.

"Ginny ..." Healer Lewis uttered, leaning back on his chair and scrubbing his face with hand. "I don't know where to begin, Mr. Potter."

"I want to know everything," the nuisance said stubbornly.

Excellent.

"It appears that ... a lot more things happened to Ginny ... more than I initially believed," the Healer started to say. "I was under the impression that she was just suffering from events that happened during her first year at Hogwarts. Yet ..."

His blue eyes flickered over to the glass vials; Harry's eyes followed his.

"What happened?" Harry questioned, looking back towards the Healer.

"I normally wouldn't show these to another, but seeing you are her boyfriend, and that will lead to certain ... intimacy, you need to be aware what kind of reaction it can trigger or she might relapse dreadfully in her healing process. Some ... things happened to her ... the year while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in power," Healer Lewis said quietly. "Horrible things."

He watched Harry's expression meticulously, a serious look on his face, noting the expression of fear and dread descend on the boy's face. He waved his hand over to the glass vials.

"I tried to talk to Ginny, but she wouldn't say anything nor would she allow me to extract the memory from her. The only option I was left with was to extract the memories while she was sleeping. The things I saw..."—he scrubbed his face again, allowing an expression of fury to be plastered on his face before dropping his hand—"...I can't believe someone would do such things to a poor, innocent girl, even if she was somehow connected to someone they hated. It's obscene, disgusting, and hateful!"

Harry's breathing quickened with each word he said.

"What happened to her?" he repeated.

Healer Lewis shook his head. "I ... I can't bring myself to repeat it. It's too ..."

"Then show me," Harry interrupted, determined, and his eyes ablaze, "show me all of it. I want to know."

Perfect.

"Harry, it's too much of a burden to witness it all," Healer Lewis said, shaking his head and pulling out a tinier flask with a greyish colour swirling inside. "I ... I made you a brief summary, so you don't have to watch the worst of it, but still get the general impression."

"No, I don't need protecting. I don't care about it being a burden," Harry answered stubbornly. "As you said, Ginny's my girlfriend. I have the right to know what happened."

Silence ensued as the two of them stared at one another across the table. Healer Lewis studied Harry's face for a while before nodding and pocketing the greyish vial. Well, he'd never expected to need it anyway.

"Very well. I know I'm going to regret this," he finally spoke with a sigh. "It's going to come back and haunt me in my dreams that I've allowed you to see this ..."

Beautiful, wonderful dreams.

"It's not your fault, Healer Lewis. I was the one who requested to see her memories," Harry rebutted.

"But still ..." he trailed off, rising from his chair with clumsy moves fit for his current physique.

He went over to the wooden box, took out a single glass vial, and poured its content into the Pensieve. He turned around and stared at Harry.

"I'm warning you: what you see might come as a shock."

Count on it.

Giving Healer Lewis a firm nod, Harry quickly moved towards the Pensieve and halted in his steps. Heaving a sigh, he dipped his nose into the silvery-white substance and plunged in. A few moments later, Harry was quickly followed by the expectant Healer, whose gleeful joy became briefly visible by blue eyes turning red for a flash.

The nightmarish illusion created by Lord Voldemort was in full swing when "Healer Lewis" arrived.

-