Unjust Peace

A/N When this chapter was written, I had driving exam ahead of me (manual stick...sucks), so I was extremely pissed off. Now I have that damned driving license, so I am happy.And I wasn’t then.

Nerys and Serp very very happily approved of my “therapy” (you'll find out only in the next chapter..grins)

As always, amazing Serp and Nerys beta-ed the chapter.

Nerys also added all the i and b to this one. Told you I am brain dead already.

Anyway, thank you very much for sticking with me!

This story will be like a schizophrenic- jumping from humor to angst then to hilarious insanity and back to some dark stuff. And sex. Yap, all there. Serpie-package. Order for free.

P.S I have been sucked into the Supernatural universe (watched all seasons non-stop, now I am even crazier than before and sometimes I freak in the dark as well), so in case you've seen the TV series I am talking about, you'll see the influence of it.

Let the fun begin!

Chapter 8
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This was not how Hermione Granger imagined her life to be. Sitting in front of a huge mirror, she stared at it unseeingly. Without looking away, she wiped the tears that formed at the corners of her eyes again as a bitter smile appeared at her lips.

She could not tear her eyes away from her reflection, a reflection that showed an empty shell that was formerly known as the brightest witch of her time. It now showed a bruised face with hollow cheeks and purple marks of bruises she had got from Voldemort that morning.

She was his whore, a willing whore that sold her body to the monster in exchange for Harry's eternal rest.

A true smile formed on Hermione's face as she recalled the quick, but nonetheless, proper funeral that Harry Potter had finally gotten. It was only her and the pissed-off Voldemort who looked like he wanted to chew off the gravestone on Harry's resting place. It was quick, but it was done.

She did all she could to give it all to her best friend, and now she was going to pay the price.

Wincing, Hermione stood up and in slow pace went to the bathroom. Her womanhood was still on fire, itching and burning like hell, not to mention her other "place," as Hermione preferred to call is, that was not so gently abused by Voldemort.

She deserved that, Hermione thought bitterly, for fucking with that monster and enjoying it. She was no fool— yes, he had drugged himself and her as well, but Hermione understood very well that what she had felt during their "time together" was not because of the drugs.

Her virginity was given to Ron, just before the final battle. She could still remember the shaking hands, sloppy kisses and the sweet love-making with Ron in the Room of Requirement.

He was so gentle, so sweet, and so innocent; he wanted to love her and she wanted to love him back. It felt good, Hermione remembered, but in a different way. She felt good from just being with Ron and not because they were intimate. The act itself was quick, and Hermione honestly didn't understand then how it was possible to be crazy about sex like some people were.

Now she knew better. Voldemort, the same bastard that killed all those who were dear to her, made her feel it all. She lost count to how many times she'd had an orgasm, but she could still feel the tremors in her body. Voldemort made her see the stars.

Dear Merlin, Hermione thought, was it possible to hate him even more than before?

Yes, it was, she decided a second later.

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"Crucio."

The curse flew towards Bellatrix for the tenth time in one hour. Lucius was already unconscious on the floor after receiving the same "good morning" from their Lord.

After the fight with the Mudblood, Voldemort destroyed every single soul that witnessed his 'un-Lordly' actions. The only ones left were the Malfoys (who were already punished), the Lestranges (who were being punished now), and her.

He would have to deal with the Mudblood later. At least, she was now his branded whore, bonded to him by magic.
That thought made his mood a bit better, but then he remembered that he allowed Potter to be buried and his rage returned ten times stronger.

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Bang.

Him again, Hermione thought angrily not even bothering to look up.

"On your knees, Mudblood," his cruel, sadistic voice commanded.

Hermione had not seen the bastard in three days, which should have been filled with happiness due to not seeing his greatness. However, those three days turned out to be very, very hard for Hermione.

When she was awake, her mind would generously supply her with detailed images of what had happened between Voldemort and her. When she was asleep, she saw accusing glares from Harry, Professors and most importantly Ron. Their whispers, filled with hate and disgust, made her wake up several times per night, covered in cold sweat. She could find no rest. Not at day, not at night.

Sometimes during those three days, during which, Hermione assumed, Voldemort was dealing with the consequences and witnesses of the "thing," she wished for him to appear and just mock her, torture her…anything but leaving her alone with her restless mind.

Without getting up from the couch, Hermione gave him a swift and short reply.

"No."

And he gave her precisely what she wished for.

"Crucio." If the Mudblood wanted to play rough, Voldemort had no qualms in accommodating her.

A few minutes later, the curse was lifted and a sobbing but relieved Hermione lay on the floor breathing hard. Pain was all she deserved.

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That pattern went on and on for a couple of weeks. Voldemort would come in and demand her on her knees, Hermione would either tell him to shove his orders into his arse or just give a plain "no" for an answer, and then, there was the pain: the all-cleansing, soothing, and comforting pain.

Everything changed one day after Voldemort disappeared for two weeks.

That had been the longest Hermione had not heard from him. All was quiet. The castle was silent, since none of the Death Eaters dared to touch her without permission from their master.

The newspapers she received daily reported which celebrity went to jail, which celebrity got pregnant, then the weather news and … nothing. Nothing about the reign meant that whatever Voldemort was doing was not related to destruction or conquering another country. Since he was the ruler, the papers were more than happy to provide any brutal information on how the Dark Reign took over another country.

But now, for the last two weeks since Voldemort's mysterious disappearance, it was all gossip, horoscope or weather news.

At first, Hermione cackled madly when she thought that the bastard had died in the woods and no one could find his rotten corpse. Then, she sulkily remembered all his Horcruxes and, with a heavy sigh, sat down on the couch to read yet another book. Luckily for her, Voldemort did not leave her alone; he left her his library.

Chewing the sandwich the house-elves had given her earlier, Hermione absentmindedly stroke the cover of her new book and opened to the first page.

Great, Hermione thought when she saw what book she picked out from the library without looking at the contents first.

Life had a funny sense of humor, Hermione decided and started reading the book that had an almost transparent title on the cover: The Book of the Damned.

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His Unspeakables were morons. Two weeks ago, an unknown artifact was found near the Veil, an artifact that looked like a simple box shaped like a star and had unknown runes all over it.

Since it was something that fell or was thrown from the Veil of Death, Voldemort didn't come close to it for a few days, until proper investigations were made. The damned box had nothing dangerous on it or in it.

The question that was on everybody's mind was: What the hell was it?

After making sure that it was safe for him to touch it, Voldemort decided to find out the answer to the mysterious box himself. He was smarter than all of the Unspeakables combined, so he had a better chance.

Four days passed and the Dark Lord was beyond angry. No spells, no curses worked on it. And he wanted to know what the box was meant for. It should do something, right? Trash would not just randomly appear near the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.

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Two more days had gone by and Voldemort decided to summon a demon. If no one from this world knew what the hell this piece of shit was, then possibly someone from the other world would.

It took him two hours to prepare the summoning ritual for a demon. As soon as the cursed creature appeared, Voldemort showed him the box, but before he could even ask the question, the damn thing screeched and vanished.

What the fuck, was the only thing Voldemort could come up with.

There was only one thing he hadn't tried yet. However, he didn't need that "thing" to think that he needed help. He would not let that "thing" think that he needed help.

It was time to see the Mudblood and play riddles. Again.

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Voldemort quietly entered her room and saw Hermione asleep on the couch, stirring and sobbing.

At least someone is not bored, Voldemort thought amused. He shoved Hermione off the couch, and she fell on the floor with a loud "thud" while Voldemort seated himself on it.

"Jerk," Hermione greeted him from the floor.

"Pleased to see you, too, darling. Before you open that lousy mouth of yours, I have something important to tell you. I have your attention, yes?"

His words made Hermione look at him cautiously, afraid of what the psycho might have come up with during his two weeks of absence. If the chilly look in his red eyes was some sort of indicator of what she could expect from him, then damn, was she in for a ride.

Hermione decided to simply nod, too wary about opening her mouth, since she had no clue what might fly from there: "Yes", "No", or "Fuck off." Better to play it safe when the Dark Lord was in "the mood," as Hermione labeled Voldemort's current state of mind.

"As you have probably noticed," Voldemort started calmly, placing emphasis on the word, "I haven't touched you since that unfortunate day, and as—" Here, Voldemort was interrupted by Hermione who just couldn't keep her mouth shut any longer.

"You mean the day you let yourself get drugged; drugged me, Malfoy and Bellatrix; fucked me on every surface possible; and Apparated naked into the hall with me attached to your filthy cock?"

Instead of the expected round of Cruciatus Curses, Hermione was shocked to see Voldemort's jaw clench as he tried to keep calm.

"Do you, perhaps, remember any other day when you rode me like the dirty whore you are, screaming in ecstasy? If you do, then please remind me. If not, shut the hell up".

Hermione shivered—something was definitely going on, and it had to be connected to Voldemort's disappearance.

"As I was saying, I have something important to offer to you. However, it has a huge bonus and a huge minus to it. Would you like to hear it out?"

"Yes," Hermione answered quickly. What is going on?

"We haven't played games for a long time, Granger. So now, I am offering you a very interesting game. Should you win, I will let you know what I was doing for two weeks and I will let you into the project. The Unspeakables' project," Voldemort added sweetly when he saw the fire in Mudblood's eyes. Yes, she was very eager to get into that project, that he was sure of.

"Before you start drooling over the possibility to use your brain for once and get into something you have only dreamed of, I should point out the minus side. Should you lose, I will have you as my very willing sex slave for as long as I wish. And I mean willing—no stone faces, no cursing during sex—you will be enjoying it. After sex, you may cry for as long as you wish and dream of hating glares from the Light side".

Woohoo…Unspeakables' project or Voldemort's willing whore … which I already am. I can't escape the reality; he would take me anyway and then … but with his way, I will have something to do, something that I have always wanted to do. I am damned anyway, Hermione thought not looking at Voldemort.

"Fine. What are the rules?" Hermione asked Voldemort who looked like he had known from the beginning which option she would choose. He had of course, and they both knew it.

Bastard.

"Since I know the project, I will let you decide who will get to give the riddle and who to solve it".

Hermione beamed at that. That bastard wouldn't know what hit him. Since she had nothing but books and her memory for the last two weeks, Hermione started having one issue—she couldn't get rid of a song from her mind. It had been her father's favorite, and it kept playing and playing nonstop in her mind.

"I will riddle you, Riddle. And you have ten minutes to answer, so you wouldn't go cheating like last time," Hermione added mockingly sweet. "Deal?"

He would fuck her anyway, Voldemort decided, and he needed her to solve the riddle box.

He had come to a conclusion that it was to be opened by some key words. He had tried everything already, from "Pureblood" to "Dumbledore's socks," but nothing worked. Better the Mudblood suffering from annoyance than him.

"Deal," the Dark Lord said. He took out the box from his pocket and showed it to Hermione, who eagerly tried to grab it instantly.

"Tsk, tsk," Voldemort mocked and put the box on the table between him and Hermione. "The riddle, please?"

Hermione kept staring at the box, taking in all the runes and lines, all her worries forgotten for the moment.

She cleared her throat and purposely decided to just give the words without singing it, just in case the bastard knew it. Plus, she skipped the beginning as it could have pinpointed the answer.

"My mother was a tailor
Sewed my new blue jeans
My father was a gambling man down in New Orleans
Now the only thing the gambler needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
And the only time he's satisfied
And the only time he'll be satisfied is when he's on a drunk
Oh mother, tell your children
Not to do what I have done
Spend your life in sin and misery"

Voldemort looked at her with narrowed eyes, awaiting the question.

Dammit, he had heard those words somewhere before.

"The question is 'where.'" Hermione moved closer to the box and looked at Voldemort for permission to touch it.

He gave her a nod and started to dig in his memory. He knew, knew, knew, knew the answer. Dammit, it was a song and he knew it. It was very popular when he was young, but "where" … It was the title of the song, he remembered that, but what?

Looking at Granger, who was cautiously looking at the box in her hands, Voldemort had a sense of déjà vu. Last time, he had the junkies to give him the clue, no matter the consequences, but now …

He had one minute left.

He knew it and she knew it, as Hermione started humming the tune while twirling the box in her hands.

Five seconds till the deadline, Hermione opened her mouth, ready to declare herself a winner and pronounce the correct answer.

At the very last second—something which Hermione found ironic, since she was right at the moment where the answer would have come up if she were singing the lyrics out loud—Voldemort grabbed the box.

"The House of the Rising Sun," they said together.

A flash of white light illuminated the room.

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Hermione rubbed her eyes that were sore from the bright light and looked around.

Huh? That was the only question in her mind when she saw herself sitting on the floor and holding the box, her hands covered by Voldemort's, who was sitting on his couch. Unmoving.

What is going on? Hermione thought and made a move towards the two sitting forms when a scream erupted from her mouth.

"What the hell have you done, Mudblood?" Voldemort grabbed Hermione, all the while staring at their unmoving figures. It seemed like time had stopped, and there were only two people in the whole place that were moving. Him and Granger. He really hoped they were not ghosts. No way.

Hermione was ready to answer him when she screamed again, this time noticing that she and Voldemort were not alone. There was something standing in the corner, just behind the Dark Lord.

Voldemort saw where the Mudblood's gaze was directed to and he almost screamed himself.

He knew that pretty lady standing in the corner, smiling sweetly at them. It was the only thing he was afraid of.

Death itself came for a visit.

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"Tom, Tom, Tom," the pretty lady smiled at Voldemort, "always running away from me. Don't you like me at all?"

Hermione had a very bad feeling in her gut when she saw the woman, and judging by Voldemort's reaction, they were fucked.

"Who is she?" Hermione asked Voldemort quietly. It seemed, however, that the woman could hear anything from anywhere.

"I am sorry, Hermione, for not introducing myself to you properly." The lady smiled genuinely now. "You see, I am still shocked to see our Tommy here. I mean the Tommy that has been running away from me so, so many times that it makes me sad. And you can imagine my surprise that Tommy wanted to visit the House of the Rising Sun. Can you believe it?" The lady started laughing while Voldemort's face looked like it was made of stone.

Impossible, Hermione thought while her mind arrived at a conclusion: This woman could not be it.

"Oh, but I am, Hermione. Pleased to meet you, darling," Death replied innocently.

"What is the House of the Rising Sun?" the Dark Lord asked, trying to control himself. He had Horcruxes, after all. Many of them. He could not possibly be dead; he could not die. It was impossible.

"It's the place of no return with millions of different dimensions—another planet, another time, another dimension where something in the past happened differently." At that sentence, Death looked at Hermione with a smile full of pity.

"Of no return?" Voldemort barked back at the lady, coming back to his senses. No way in hell was he going to get trapped in some shithole.

"Well, technically, there is a way out, but it is for you to find out and for me to … know."

Death had the same sense of humor as Voldemort did, Hermione decided.

"Ah, Hermione, please don't insult me. I am witty and funny, while he is not."

Hermione again felt violated as her thoughts were read and then the answer provided out loud.

Voldemort's glare told Hermione to shut her mouth and mind instantly, to which she gladly agreed seeing that the Dark Lord was her only ally against Death.

"I was so bored, you know, so I gave you the box. Who knew that you two would open it? I didn't, it's not my job to know what will happen. But I am so glad! Thank you!" Death seemed ecstatic at having Voldemort as her plaything. "Now, we shall not waste any more time. It's time to get going, great adventures lay ahead."

That was definitely not how Hermione imagined Death to be.

Before the blinding white light took Hermione and Voldemort away, they heard Death's last warning.

"Do not get separated. If you do get separated, you will never be able to return and will be stuck there forever."

Holy shit, Hermione thought before leaving the room where Voldemort's and her bodies sat in the same position as when they touched the box.

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A/N The song is called "The House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals.

A/N2 The next chapter can already be named the craziest of them all...Roars with laughter just from thinking about it. :) Nerys and Serp join in. :)