The Contract (Hermoine/Voldemort story)

Ch 31

Voldemort felt like crying. He had finally found a way to gain immortality only to realise he could never do what it takes. This had to be what Dumbledore had talked about. The old Headmaster had read this book and realised that Voldemort would never ever trust anyone enough to drink from the Cup of Death. All hard work for nothing.

Unless… he looked down at his wife who was looking at him with a worried expression. Could he wish for her to bring him back to life? No, the moment he died she would be free from the Contract and his wishes would be for naught. A compromise then? He did trust his wife, somewhat. She was the only one he could actually relax with. Although, to bring him back to life? He knew he hadn't done anything to her to deserve that.

"Hermione," he began.

She interrupted him. "No."

"But…," he tried again.

"No, don't ever ask me to do it," she said with narrowed eyes. "I couldn't do that to the world."

To the world? Voldemort blinked. Could she do it for her own sake then?

"If I promise not to take control over the world?" he asked. After all, being immortal had always been his highest priority. Everything else, he could live without as long as he actually lived!

Hermione just shook her head. "Voldemort, I don't really think you have realised this yet but you have to die first. Do you really think you could kill yourself? That is the reason why you want to live forever, isn't it? You are afraid to die."

Oh, right, that was true. No, he hadn't really thought about that. Now when he did, he actually started to hyperventilate. Kill himself? He couldn't… no… never, not him, not die, no-no-no-no-no.

Hermione tried to calm him down. She hugged and shushed him like he was their son. With an iron-will, he forced himself to calm down. He wouldn't think about it. There had to be another way. Perhaps if he let someone else try it first so he knew it worked? Yes, then he wouldn't actually die, he would only stop breathing for just a second. It would be like sleeping and when he woke up, he would be immortal. Yes that would work but first he had to make sure it actually worked. He had to make someone else drink from the Cup of Death and then bring that person back to life. Then, he could force that person to drink from the Cup of Death again so Voldemort would be the only immortal one. Or he could let that person live for a while. Yes, it didn't matter so much now. Now, he had to find the Cup of Death. He already had the Cup of Life and had made some small tests to make sure it worked, just simple things like making trees grow in the desert.

As he started to relax, he leaned against Hermione. What did she think of all this? He wished he was able to see into her thoughts just like she could see his.

"I don't know if I'd be relieved or not," Hermione confessed as an answer to his thoughts.

He scowled at her. He didn't want her to see his thoughts! Regaining his self control, he straightened.

"Oh, sorry," Hermione mumbled and let go of him. "I thought you… never mind."

Voldemort stood up from the bed and walked over to the sofa where his clothes still lay. "I want to find the Cup of Death."

Hermione looked up, surprised. Obviously, she hadn't heard that part of the plan from his mind. Good.

"But I thought…,"

Voldemort interrupted her. "I'll find a way. Right now, we will find the second Cup. Any idea where it can be?"

"I haven't found any evidences of its existence since the eighteenth century, when it was seen in the Northern lands." She sighed. "Perhaps it's still there. Or…"