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Voldemort came back and took Harry Potter five years after the events of 1981 at Godric's Hollow. After years of trying to talk to Harry or tempt him to the side of the light Dumbledore is desperate -- and so entrusts the mission to the one person that has always managed to get a reaction out of the stubborn boy -- Hermione Granger.
He didn't count on them falling in love. Or deciding they were going to be nobody's soldier -- his or Voldemort's.
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Bookmarked by Sea_Wall
23 Apr 2026
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Control isn't the only thing Draco Malfoy has lost. But he will get it back. He will get everything back.
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Bookmarked by Sea_Wall
23 Apr 2026
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She didn’t want to be a pureblood. Nope. Proud Muggleborn, thank you very much. Well, Muggle-raised, she supposed.
She wanted to take this to her grave. Her muggle, mundane, ordinary, non-magical grave next to her mother and father, may their souls rest.
She stared at the paperwork. She didn’t want to do it. She wanted to continue to be Hermione Granger, Muggleborn extraordinaire. War Hero. Brightest witch of her age. All that bullshit. Hermione. Jean. GRANGER.
Not Evangelina Darcia Pulchra ROSIER. Two middle names. How pretentious.
A pureblood.
A presumed dead pureblood. A previously presumed dead pureblood. A previously presumed dead pureblood with a previously assumed null and void arranged marriage to a Flint.
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Appetence: defined as an attraction, a natural affinity, or an instinctive desire. In other words, it's a cosmic sort of bond that clouds the mind until all thought is consumed by that singular point of infatuation.
When Voldemort divines what Harrie Potter truly means to him in the graveyard, a festering obsession begins. His horcrux. A part of his wayward soul, crafted from his marrow, magic, and might— his very own damning appetence.
He knows what has been kept from him, what rightfully belongs at his side, and now?
Well.
Now, he wants her back.
** Currently under minor revision **
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Bookmarked by Sea_Wall
22 Nov 2025
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“A time traveller, are you? I rather think I will keep you." He strokes her cheek, and she bites down on a whimper. She is tired now. Exhausted. “There is a kind of winsome audacity about you, isn't there? And you are as brave as a fool.” He shakes his head. “It’s quite interesting. And sometimes, I get bored.” A smile. Too wide, too many teeth. There are no borders drawn in his gaze, no cartography at all. “This will be tremendous fun.”
