Succumb

In the aftermath of love, the man whispered in her ear, "Do you know who it was that gave me to you?"

Hermione looked at his eyes, which seemed black in the dim light. "The Dark Lord, of course."

The man gave a low laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, that was Avery. But then you've never seen me before, no matter how many times your dear friend Potter has. I am Lord Voldemort."

Hermione just froze.

"Speechless, love?" Voldemort asked, waving his wand to lighten the room.

"Huh. Mup. Guh," Hermione managed.

"Yes, I'd imagine that's the response you'll receive when you have to tell someone what happened here." Voldemort's face was clear now, as serpentine and unattractive as Harry had described.

"Gah."

Voldemort just smiled. "Go on, tell me how you liked it."

"W-w-why?" Hermione finally said in a language resembling English.

"I told you," he said, lounging back on the pillows comfortably. "I like my women to be as smart as I am."

"What?" Hermione rasped. Bad images were floating through her head, and she nearly gagged when she saw herself taking the place of those faceless women under the caresses of Voldemort. And what was worse--she remembered liking it, wanting it so much! "I think I'm going to be sick," she whispered.

"I like women who are on the same intellectual level as I am. You can imagine I haven't found very many."

Hermione mouthed, but no sounds came out.

Voldemort leaned over and ran a rather... surprisingly sensual tongue along her lower lip. She found her stomach leaping, but not from nausea.

"Oh, gods, what's wrong with me?" Hermione asked.

"You know," Voldemort said, "to tell the truth, I never found one.'

"What?"

"A woman who suited me. I mention the snake trails of the Naga, and every single pair of eyes drew a blank."

Hermione's brows drew together. "Have you ever met the Naga?" Voldemort smiled at the comment. "I've heard they live in India. And some are in North Africa. But still, they're supposed to be pure myth, even in the wizarding world."

"Why do you think I look the way I do if I hadn't met them and connived the secrets to a Naga spirit and the methods of Naga possession?" Voldemort ran a hand down her bare stomach. Hermione had to resist the urge to lean into his hand or cover her body from his crimson eyes. They seemed to swirl with blood, and they formed a stark contrast to his pure white skin.

"I've waited so many years for someone like you," Voldemort hissed. The air from his words blew cold on her skin. Gooseflesh crawled up her belly and over her breasts like his touch. "You missed me when I still had my human body, but you didn't seem to mind that I was your enemy, or that your hands ran over my body as it is now. And you'd be surprised how passionate the Naga spirits become when they're in heat."

His lips closed over hers.

Hermione stiffened under him, and he pulled away. There was something indescribable simmering just behind his eyes. With another wave of his wand, he dimmed the lights of the room again. He hummed low in his throat as he climbed over her.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured. "Soon, you'll find you want this as much as I do. You'll never find a man who can understand you like I do."

She whimpered as she felt his erection against her thigh.

He took her hands and put them behind his head. Of their own account, the fingers smoothed themselves over his skin. Her body betrayed her as she brought his face down to hers.