The Secrets of My Heart

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Chapter 2: Knowledge of My Father's

Lord Voldemort studied his daughter, who was slumped in her chair. In all truth, he was not surprised at her reaction. After all, her father had been trying to kill her best friend for the boy's entire life. He thought back to the prophesy which had changed his life...

When the Daughter of the Dark

And the Son of the Light unite

The Dark Lord shall be no more.

It had been short. Oh, yes. Extremely short. But it had been a powerful prophesy, nonetheless. Trelawney's first, in fact. It had been obvious that the Daughter of the Dark was his daughter, Hermione. But the Son of the Light had been more difficult to identify ... until he had discovered the past of the Potters. And then he had gone after them with everything he had.

And it had nearly destroyed him.

He knew it would have been easier to kill his daughter. There was no problem in getting to her.

But even Voldemort had a heart. And when he looked at her for the first time, his heart had filled with love for the tiny little creature. And he had been hooked when she threw her little fingers around his thumb.

When he had received the prophesy, he had gone straight to his daughter, prepared to Avada Kedavra her. But he couldn't do it. He had broken down and cried, right there, with the knowledge that he had been prepared to kill his daughter.

So he had gone after the Potters.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he stood, striding to the door. He jerked it open and barked for Pettigrew. The scrawny little man appeared almost immediately, and Voldemort spoke to him quietly. "Ready the rooms across the hall from mine, and find a dressmaker." He glanced back into the room before continuing. "And bringthat nurse from the infirmary."

Pettigrew did not question his master's orders, but quickly hurried to do his bidding.

***

Hermione blinked, then shut her eyes when she saw Voldemort speaking to Madame Pomfrey. The memories came rushing back, and she almost fainted again. She was Lord Voldemort's daughter. Her mother was a witch. She realized with a jolt that that meant she was a Pureblooded witch, and almost laughed at the irony of it all.

She peeked again, but was caught by Voldemort this time. He quickly strode over to her, despite Pomfrey'sscolding. "Are you feeling better?" he asked. His voice was almost kind, but Hermione refused to accept that he could be capable of that emotion.

She scowled at him, no longer worried about whether she were going to die or not. "All I did was faint."

Madame Pomfrey bustled over and put a cloth against her forehead. Hermione sighed, wishing that this was all just one big, horrible dream.

***

Hermione lay back against the soft couch and eyed Voldemort. He was sitting in his throne again, this time drinking, of all possible things, butterbeer. She was surprised she hadn't died from the shock. Then again, in the past few hours, she had learned more than she could have imagined, not only about him, but about her past as well. Speaking of which... "Why don't you finish explaining how you met my mother?"

Voldemort glanced up at his daughter, a faint smile appearing on his blood-less lips. "Ah, yes. Your mother... She worked at the ministry, and happened to be in one of the countries I was travelling in. I needed some information, so I kidnapped her. At first, I tried Veritaserum, but she was immune to it. I didn't want to, because at that time I felt pity for her, but I used the Cruciatus Curse." Hermione shuddered. Lucius Malfoy had used that on her a few times, when she hadn't done her chores quickly enough. "But she didn't budge. I didn't get a single thing out of her, other than, 'You bastard,' or some such thing."

Hermione snorted.

Voldemort looked amused. "Yes, I thought so as well. Eventually, I gave up. I was extremely glad when I realized that I hadn't done any lasting damage to her brain. Despite the fact that most seem to think I had been a heartless bastard at that point, I wasn't. At least, not then.

"I didn't know what to do with her. I knew that even if I Obliviated her, the Ministry would break through it. She'd been gone too long. I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd reported her dead."

Hermione interrupted him. "Why didn't you just kill her?"

Voldemort laughed, a low, almost cruel sound, and he answered her quietly. "I couldn't. I don't know why, and I don't think I ever will. There wasn't anything to do with her. I didn't want to turn her over to my Death Eaters, as I knew they would show her no mercy whatsoever. So I kept her. I had to guard her twenty-four hours a day, as she never stopped trying to escape." Seeing a question forming in his daughter's eyes, he quickly continued, "But I never raped her, if that's what you're asking. I had considered making her my mistress, but at that point I knew that she would never let me have her. I had long ago drawn a line for myself. I would never lower myself to the standards at which my own servants live. I have never, will never, rape anyone for my own pleasure. I only kill when I need to for my own survival, never just to see them die." Voldemort sighed, and Hermione was amazed to find the sound mournful.

"But," he continued, "Something happened. A few weeks after I had kidnapped her, I had a few Death Eaters at my private residence. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle." Seeing her raised eyebrow, he chuckled. "Yes, I can see what you mean. Crabbe and Goyle flanked Lucius Malfoy just as their sons now flank Draco. Well, as I was saying, they were visiting, and I left them unattended for a few minutes. Apparently, Lucius found your mother and attempted to rape her. I found them before he got too far, and blasted him with the CruciatusCurse. I was so mad, that word doesn't even begin to describe it. After that, something changed. She stopped trying to escape as often, and she appeared at meals. I could feel her eyes on me, knew she was watching me. I guess she found something she liked, since after a month, I found her in my bed.

"After that, she became my mistress. I was so...happy those days. I couldn't remember a better time. She made me laugh, and introduced me to a passion so intense I was amazed every time I woke up that I was still alive." He looked at Hermione, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

Hermione, however, had no such inhibitions, and was crying quite openly.

Voldemort sighed heavily. "After a few months she discovered she was pregnant. She didn't tell me at first, was afraid I would make her give up the child. She tried to escape. She didn't get very far, and I was extremely hurt that she had tried at all. I had believed that she was happy the way things were. After she spent a few more days crying in her room, I couldn't stand it anymore. I gave her the opportunity to leave. She told me she was pregnant. I was ... ecstatic." He looked at Hermione, his eyes searching her face. "I married her. There is no public record, of course." He laughed cruelly. "The great Lord Voldemort,married. I believe it would have sent some into shock.

"When she had you, I knew the meaning of love at first sight. During that time, I'm afraid I let my Death Eaters run quite amok. I had to rein them in quite a bit. And then..." he sighed again, his voice becoming weary. "Trelawney had a prediction."

"Trelawney?"Hermione scoffed. "That old crackpot?"

Voldemort raised a brow. "Actually, so far as I know she has made two real predictions. One was to me ... and the other, as I understand it, to the great Harry Potter." Hermione just stared at him, waiting for him to continue. "Well then. I don't think I'll ever forget this...

"When the Daughter of the Dark

"And the Son of the Light unite

"The Dark Lord shall be no more.

"As you can tell, the Daughter of the Dark was you, but the Son of the Light... Well, that took a little digging. Eventually I realized that it was James Potter's son."

Hermione had gone quite pale.

"I knew that to stop that from happening I had to kill one of you. And I knew you would be the easiest. There was no problem in getting to you." He looked at Hermione, his eyes sad beyond belief. "But I couldn't do it. I stood above your cradle, with my wand in my hand, ready to kill you... And I cracked. I couldn't do it. And I was ashamed of myself. I had been ready to kill you, my daughter. I broke down and cried. Cried for the first time in a long time.

"I knew I had to stop the prediction from happening. So I tracked down the Potters. It took a while, and I was exceedingly glad when it happened that Pettigrew was the Potters' secret keeper. So I went, and I killed the boy's parents. But unfortunately, there was some type of countercurse against the Avadathat the Potters knew about." Seeing his daughter's disbelieving gaze, he continued.

"They had discovered it only that day. The Potters were more powerful than anyone knew. More powerful even, than I knew. I am ashamed to say that in underestimating them, I set the stage for my fall from power. Lily Potter had time to cast the countercurse upon her son, but I killed her before she could do the same for herself. I didn't realize until after that she had done so. The curse was reflected back to me, and I, for all intents and purposes, died.

"I don't know what happened to your mother after that."

Hermione wiped her eyes and asked a question that had been bugging her since almost the start of his explanation. "What about the pendant?"

Voldemort nodded and pulled something out of his pocket, looking at it. "When I married your mother, in addition to her wedding ring, I gave her that pendant that you are wearing. It was descended down my mother's side of the family, and only a descendant of Salazar Slytherin can wear it."

"Uh, wait a minute. Was my mother a descendant of him? 'Cause then you two would be related somehow, and that's kind of sick."

Voldemort laughed, and answered, "No, no. Your mother and I, during the marriage ceremony, cut ourselves here," he pointed to the palm of his right hand, "and our blood intermixed. So long as the wearer has some of Salazar's blood, he or she can wear the pendant."

Hermione nodded, trying to make sense of it all.

"I'm assuming she gave the pendant to the Grangers to give to you when you were old enough."

"Yes, when I was sixteen."

Voldemort nodded, then stood, walking over to the couch where his daughter lay. He crouched down -- which Hermione found extremely strange -- in front of her, contemplating his next words. "You do know that you are going to have to be introduced to the world as my daughter, Hermione Rhianna Thomasine."

Hermione sighed. "Yes."

"And I'm afraid that you will have to marry someone of political value."

Hermione started. "What?"

"An arranged marriage."Voldemort sighed. "I do wish that you could marry of your own choosing, but I'm afraid that at this point in time, that would be disastrous."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Of course," she attempted a smile. After all, what else could she do? He was her father, he was Lord Voldemort, he could kill her -- though she doubted he would -- and all he asked was that she marry someone of his choosing? "May I have the opportunity of turning them down?"

Voldemort looked contemplatively down at her. "So long as there is a good reason behind it, yes."

Hermione nodded. She suddenly looked up at him, a question on her lips. "Who was my mother?"

Voldemort chuckled. "Rhianna Marie Dumbledore."

Hermione was surprised she didn't faint again.