Author's Note: This is the sequel to Bonds between Lost Souls. You'll be very, very confused if you don't read it first. Also, a bond servant in the Bible is a slave by choice, typically someone who returns or agrees to be enslaved in order to stay with family that is still in servitude. It began by nailing your own ear to the door post of your master's home. Enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I still don't own or profit from Harry Potter. Though, I do appreciate reviews. You don't even have to claim it on your taxes if you choose to leave one!

The Bond Servant

Chapter One

Hermione had not had a pleasant day, and she knew it was not going to be getting any better. She had needed to spend the earlier part of her day doing work for her shifts at St. Mungo's the coming week, but instead she had spent a great deal of time staring into a cup of tea. She had reheated the same cup six different times before it truly became indigestible. She glanced up at the clock and sighed. She couldn't delay any longer.

She assumed, considering how concerned Voldemort was about rubbing elbows with the magical elite, that dinner would be a somewhat formal affair. Her stomach turned at the idea of even trying to look nice for him. Maybe if she went in a paper bag he would view her as not being worth his time and forget all about her? Not likely.

She changed into her clothing selection of the night. A white, fitted dress that clung to her curves but dropped demurely to cover her knees with an extra inch or so. Still being slightly chilly out, it had long bell sleeves. She looked almost innocent in it, and that was what she hoped he would take from it. While she didn't think he would lose interest in her, she did hope that he would see her as someone that would have to be slowly entrenched in his… practices. Maybe, that way, she would have a chance of finishing this before he expected her to start murdering pregnant muggle women or disabled kids.

She went light with her makeup, and brought her hair back in a loose ponytail. She wore Lucius's bracelet but no other adornments. Grabbing a small black clutch and matching coat to drape over her arm, she made her way to the floo.

She nodded at Tom as she walked by, and he smiled at her pleasantly. Quickly, she made her way into muggle London and hailed a taxi to take her to her approximate destination. He dropped her off on the wrong side of Hyde Park at her request. She thought walking the rest of the way would make sure she did not arrive too early… and give her time to focus her strength on her mental shields. He had said he didn't have intentions of forcing his way into her mind, but she certainly wouldn't put it past him to scan her surface thoughts. It was also not impossible that he would decide to break it word entirely.

Arriving on Grosvenor Crescent, she looked at the intimidating building. It was a long, stretched building made up of very expensive looking townhouses. The few people meandering outside were dressed much nicer than her, despite her care in picking out an appropriate outfit for dinner. She couldn't help but wonder who paid for Voldemort to live here, considering that the most she knew of his professional life was a period of time working at Borgin and Burkes upon completing Hogwarts. Still, she couldn't bring herself to be surprised. Wasn't it somewhat expected for a Dark Lord to have a nice residence?

She stood at the small wrought iron gate in front of the walkway to number 19. Obviously, it was not hidden by a Fidelius. It seemed odd that it wasn't hidden. Her question was answered then as she was almost knocked to the ground by a man walking by. "Sorry, ma'am! I didn't see you there!"

He looked at her, looked at number 19, and then walked off without waiting for any sort of response… as if he had never even hit her in the first place. As if she wasn't even there. Muggle repelling charms and some sort of confundus, apparently.

Taking a deep breath, she swung open the gate and walked up the few steps to the door. After ringing the bell, she only had to wait a moment before the door swung open to reveal a house elf. It held the door open silently, and Hermione frowned at it as she stepped inside. After closing the door behind her, the small elf held out its hands for her coat, which she willingly gave. With a crack, it disappeared.

A moment later, the host was seen coming down the staircase. "Hera, you are punctual. That is greatly appreciated."

She looked up at Lord Voldemort as he smirked at her, coming to a halt in front of her. "Please, come with me. I have instructed the elves to get us both a drink. Do you have a preference?" He was dressed in a black three piece suit, colorless except for a bold, crimson tie. If this was a movie, she would have expected it possible that he was a "Satan in disguise". His hair was perfectly combed, though with a slight tousled appearance. It was thick with a slight cowlick going toward the right. He certainly looked much better with hair… and a nose… and eyes that weren't red.

She shook her head lightly. "No, sir. I do not drink much alcohol."

He nodded, "Wonderful. I try to stay away from it for the most part as well. Too many drink and lose control of themselves. I despise the idea of not behaving exactly how I would like. Still, a glass of wine should be okay with dinner. Red or white?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, and succeeded. It was quite easy to resist considering he might just decide to kill her if he thought she was being disrespectful. "I am sure whatever you choose will be wonderful," she responded, diplomatically.

"Such lovely manners. Please, dinner should be ready."

He led her down the hallway next to the stairs and into a formal dining room. The table sat eight, but only the head of the table and a chair next to it had been set. He took her arm as he led her around the table and pulled her chair out for her. His manners were impeccable; it was a shame he was an evil son of a bitch.

After seating himself, he snapped his fingers, and two house elves came in. The first poured them each a glass of red wine, and the second put a small bowl in front of each of them. Taking a look at the silverware, she noticed that there would be four courses. She had hoped it would be less…

Hera politely took a sip of the, admittedly delicious, shrimp bisque. She wanted to hate everything about her current situation. She wanted to find nothing about the monstrosity seated next to her to be pleasant. It would only fuel her fire for him to have served her disgusting food. Unfortunately, elves had no plans to cook dissatisfying food.

She glanced at the small creatures. They were standing near the door they had come in through, looking at their feet and saying nothing. While the Malfoy elves did not go out of their way to speak, these elves seemed different. She felt almost as if they didn't speak at all.

Catching her gaze, Voldemort spoke. "I have never been fond of house elves," he said, as if that was a sufficient response.

"I see," she vaguely returned.

He raised an eyebrow at her short response and then continued. "They are very powerful creatures, house elves. You wouldn't know it, looking at them, but their magic envelops them in a way that most wizards cannot even comprehend."

She couldn't help but wonder where his line of thought was going. "And that makes you dislike them?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Unlike their distant cousins, they have relegated themselves to serve wizards, many of which cannot hold a candle to their own abilities. They allow themselves to be treated abominably. That I dislike. If you have power, I think it is your duty to use it. Magic itself blessed them, yet they do not use it to their own gain. It is a waste."

She hadn't thought of it that way. "Yet, you employ at least three," she finally said.

He smirked. "We are both Slytherins; I thought the reasoning would be clear as to why I employ them."

She took a sip of her damned delicious wine before responding. "Perhaps I am not as intelligent as you think I am."

He laughed at that. If she hadn't known what he was, she would have thought it was quite a pleasing laugh. "No, I think you certainly are as intelligent as I think you are. I just think you have not wrapped your head around thinking about things with the purpose of 'how will that suit my purposes'. I have house elves because they, for ridiculous reasons, are loyal and hardworking. They wish to serve and please me. While I think their reasoning is flawed, it is certainly in my best interests to allow them to do it."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "People could say the same about wizards, couldn't they? You might not like them… or even care about their own needs at all…"

He looked at her with a very pleased expression on his face. "Yet, if they are willing to serve me, I will gladly allow it." While she still thought he was ridiculously evil, she came to a realization about him, then. From a young age, she had understood that he tortured and killed muggles and people who fought against them. She might have thought it immoral and disgusting, but she knew he didn't think they deserved better. She had never quite understood how he could torture his own followers though, people who sacrificed and worked for him at their own expense. Now, he was giving her the answer. He wouldn't even see it as a betrayal of them. They were as good as house elves to him, tools to be wielded and disposed of at his pleasure. They did not respect their own abilities enough to not see themselves as needlessly subservient to him, so he didn't respect them at all.

"I hope this is not how you recruit all of your potential… followers to your cause. I am not finding it to be very persuasive." She regretted the words even as she spoke them, sure she had angered him. Instead, he laughed again.

"Who is questioning whose intelligence now, Hera?"

They silently ate the rest of their first course, and it was quickly replaced by a garden salad. As the elves retreated from their plates once more, she had to ask. "Why do they not speak?"

He shrugged. "I have instructed them not to unless absolutely necessary. I, personally, cannot stand to hear their hideous grammar. I think they purposefully try to speak poorly. Think of it. They are attuned to their masters' voices, able to hear everything that is said. They wait to be summoned from wherever they are. I think they speak so… brokenly in order to make whatever idiot master they have feel better about himself. I'm sure many would argue that they are not educated enough to grasp grammatical concepts, but they have fetched books for me. They obviously can read, in which case there is no excuse for it. I also dislike their simpering tone, and I do not need them to acknowledge my orders verbally, merely follow them. Why should I waste my time trying to understand them?"

She raised her eyebrow at him. A rather strange conspiracy theory of sorts, but one she could not immediately discount. She did not respond but merely returned to eating her salad.

As they finished the second course, she glanced up to see him looking at her. "As to my recruiting procedures, I thought I was quite clear as to what I wanted your role to be within my…"

"Regime?" she finished for him, causing his lips to quirk as he held in a smile. He obviously found her amusing, and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Better than him torturing her, though.

"That will do, I suppose," he granted. "As I said before, and am witnessing with every interaction between us, you are too intelligent and independent for me to approach as a random sycophant. I do not think you would be amenable to that, and I would be quite disappointed if you were. I told you that I see similarities between the two of us, and I would hate to be disappointed in that regard. I truly intend to be a… mentor of sorts. While I might expect you to do certain tasks for me, I intend for the benefits of our relationship to go both ways. I believe we can make each other better." He smiled at her, disarmingly, but it only made her more tense.

"Yes, I understood you, but can you blame me for questioning your intent? You have readily admitted to me that you see the general populace as unimportant and only as good as their usefulness to you. I am sure you do not seduce them to your way of thinking by telling them as much. It would make sense for you to make them feel special, as you are obviously trying to do with me."

He continued to look at her in amusement. "I have not had to talk them into anything. They are willingly coming to me and not questioning what I might think about them. It is rather shortsighted of them, considering so many are Slytherins or at least familiar with political maneuvering. That is one of the things that sets you apart. I am having to recruit you with more than just promises of power and prestige. You wish to be respected for your abilities, not for your position in society. I respect that. People acknowledge me as a leader because I have the abilities to ensure that I stay in that position. It has not been given to me. I did not buy it. I have earned their respect, and I think you deserve the same from them."

The third course was set in front of them, and Hermione looked down at the delicious steak and green beans. She reached for a roll in the center of the table and took to spreading butter on it as she thought of what she wanted to say.

"I do not agree with pureblood supremacy," she finally said.

He shrugged. "I do not particularly care about it myself. I will acknowledge that, in general, purebloods are more powerful, adept wizards. As I also told you before, there are glaring exceptions."

"What exceptions are those? You do not seem to surround yourself with many of us low born citizens." She was hunting now. Hoping that he would confide in her. "My parentage has not been confirmed, so I cannot be listed amongst them."

He nodded. "Indeed. Eliyona Dolohov is worth mentioning. While she did not have the same drive as we do, she was known for being very capable."

"One? That is all? Couldn't she just be a fluke?"

He was silent as he leaned back a bit more in his chair, taking a long sip of wine. She would have to take a leap of faith. "I might severely regret doing this, but it is likely bound to come out eventually no matter what." She slowly rolled up the sleeve of her left arm, aware that he watched as she did so.

He concealed any surprise remarkably well as he took in the sight of the ugly scar on her arm. "Is it true?"

She nodded. "It is, though I have tried to keep that knowledge from most of my acquaintance. Lucius, Mrs. Malfoy, and the headmaster know, but that is all." She did not mention her students, not wanting him to think of them at all if possible.

"May I ask how you received such a…. poignant reminder?"

"I rescued a classmate at the orphanage when I was thirteen. Two wizards happened to see me use the accidental magic that did it. They initially were impressed, but were much less so once they learned that I was not some abandoned pureblood. They said I had no right to use magic and wanted my shame to be visible. It was a cursed blade."

"What else did they do?" His interest was certainly piqued, and he had yet to look back at her face.

"Many rounds of the Cruciatus," she said, angrily looking at her arm.

"Do you know who they were?" he asked, sounding a bit angry.

She looked at him with surprise. "No. I haven't seen them since. They were much older; they could be dead by now."

"And your birth parents?"

She shrugged. "I don't know where they are. They were scared of my magic and left me there. I broke all of the glass in their home, I think. My mother was quite angry."

He sneered then. "Ah, yes, I remember Abraxas telling me something similar to that now. Well, as to my feelings on it, I think magic can infuse itself with anyone to varying extents. I do not know why you were given it, but it is yours to use. You are a powerful witch, and that is good enough for me."

"So… you just go along with your followers' hatred of muggleborns and muggles?" she asked, curiously.

He looked at her appraisingly. "My followers are concerned that their heritage is being taken away from them. They are concerned that muggle influences are shaping society into something they do not want or recognize. They worry that their bloodlines would be polluted to the point of the magic dying out of the families. I can understand those concerns. Even since I was a boy, muggle culture is continually fusing with our own. As to if purebloods are better than halfbloods or muggleborns, magically, that depends solely on the individual. If two idiot, incompetent purebloods marry and have an idiot child, it is decidedly worse than competent pureblood marrying a powerful muggleborn and even just having an average child. That is why I am willing to support a union between you and Mr. Malfoy. Any children you have are likely to be a credit to the wizarding world. Unfortunately, many of the people who agree with me on the earlier issues will not ever see it that way."

"And muggles?" she asked, frowning at how easily he answered her. His charisma was unmatched amongst the people she knew. He made Gilderoy Lockhart look even more of a fool. She was somehow thankful to know that he was, indeed, a monster. Otherwise… would she have been tempted by his pretty words?

He looked angry, now. "Muggles... I do not like muggles. While I acknowledge they outnumber us to the point of us not being able to easily control them, I do think that we should be completely isolated from them. Muggles raising magical children disgusts me. They would either be afraid or resent the children for their abilities. On the off chance that they are supportive, they teach their children that the two worlds can blend and pollute our society with their own. I believe very few good muggles exist."

She was so close to her goal. If he would confide in her, thinking that he had her trust already, he would be much more likely to share things with her in the future. Like secrets. And soul containing devices. "Did you have a bad experience with muggles?" she asked, trying to sound innocently curious.

He was silent for only a moment before finally telling her. "Though most of my followers do not know, or have selectively forgotten, I am… a half blood. My father was a horrible waste of space. He rejected my mother when he learned she was pregnant. My mother died shortly after giving birth to me, and I was raised in a muggle orphanage. There, I met only more abusers. If they weren't cruel to me, they were afraid of what I could do. It is another thing we have in common. Raised in an orphanage, rejected by a muggle parent. I don't know how you can like muggles."

She looked at him, quietly. "I am sorry to hear that," she finally responded.

He brushed off her sympathy as if it would cause him harm. "Obviously, it would be quite hypocritical of me to believe that purebloods are better than the rest of us, just because both of their parents were magical. I am confident my power easily outshines that of my mother. Still, I do not intend to advertise those thoughts. I know your secret, and you know one of mine. I trust my confidence will not be broken." He looked at her not in question, but in demand.

Still, it wasn't a problem for her to agree, honestly. "Of course." Dumbledore could always hand out that information at a good time, and it wasn't like her side wasn't already aware of his humble background. "So, your goal is to isolate the magical world from the muggle andcompletely separate government."

"Yes. With me as its head of course. I am a Slytherin, after all." He smirked, raising his glass lightly in what seemed to be a silent toast to himself.

"And how do you intend to achieve that?" she questioned.

"I will make sure any legislation favoring goals that do not coincide with mine does not pass. Legislation that might be favorable will be created and put into practice. I have plans to eventually run for Minister of Magic. A post willingly given is not as easily removed."

She nodded. "And what of those that might oppose you?"

He shrugged. "They will be forcefully suppressed."

"By what means?"

He took a bite of his steak and swallowed politely before answering. "By whatever means necessary."

They were quiet again as they ate then, both thinking quietly about their own thoughts. Hermione didn't know how to broach the next topic that would be necessary. As she took the last bite of steak, she finally decided on a course of action.

"While I do not necessarily think that an isolated magical world is a bad thing…"

"I thought you'd agree," he interrupted, smiling in a way that almost looked shark-like.

"I am not comfortable torturing and killing people just because they disagree with me," she said, seriously.

He nodded. "I am well aware. You already said as much. I have no intentions of making you my executioner. At the same time, I will expect that you will handle any disrespect given to you. I will expect you to make sure others know exactly what is expected of them. Orders coming from you will often be as good as orders coming from me. Considering the people that will be likely to disrespect you are those that think you aren't as good as they are, I don't see why that should be a problem."

The idea of returning a bit of the pain that Bellatrix had given her was certainly appealing. She couldn't deny that a part of her had always wished she had gotten a piece of Bellatrix before Molly had ended her. Still, she didn't like the idea of torturing people. But, what other choice did she have? He seemed adamant. "I would request that you not put me in the position to do that as much as possible. I do not wish to damage my soul more than absolutely necessary. I am decidedly 'grey' and would prefer to stay that way."

He smirked but nodded. "Yes, you had mentioned… conditions. Quite bold of you to say that, considering you know what I am capable of. Were there more?"

The other moment she was waiting for. "One. Lucius," she said, quietly.

"What about him?" he asked, somewhat pleasantly.

"You said you do not care about romantic relationships, but I feel differently. Considering you have been quite clear about how much you care about those that listen to you, I think it is understandable that I do not want him to be potential cannon fodder. I am quite capable of handling or delegating whatever tasks you might conceive to give him. I wish for you to promise not to attempt to recruit him or enlist others to do so. What Abraxas does with his life is his business, but Lucius's life is very much tied to mine."

He smirked. "Do you think giving away how attached you are to him to be wise?"

She glared slightly, as much as she dared. "Were you under the impression that I was just with him for fun? He will likely be my husband one day. I don't want him to be one of your… sycophants, I believe you said. You will have your followers, but I want him to be mine."

He frowned. "It is such a shame, though. He is also quite talented and would be a credit to me."

She raised an eyebrow. "He is a Malfoy. Do you honestly see him opposing your ideals? I am sure he would not have much issue with an isolated wizarding world, as long as it was economically sustainable. He might not be your ally, but do you think he'd be an enemy?"

He sighed. "I suppose not. Very well. If he approaches me, though, I will not turn him away. Do you really think he will be satisfied with his wife being the powerful one, though?"

She shook her head. "We will just have to see. I am not quite stupid enough to expect you would take a vow to me, but I do think that you can acknowledge it is in your own self-interest to live up to your word. If I hear he has been approached or persuaded to join on your orders, I will hurt you. I am sure you know I can find a way to do it, too. My confidence and my allegiance are broken as soon as you break mine." Threatening the Dark Lord was not something she ever saw herself doing, but… here it was.

He smirked at her again, looking as if he thought she was a cute little bunny or something of the like before nodding. "I'm sure if anyone could make a solid attempt at harming me and my campaign, it would be you. Very well. I accept both of your… conditions. I suppose we are in agreement, then? I will see much more of you in the future." He was obviously unmoved by her threat, especially considering the fact that he believed himself to be ultimately immortal.

"As long as your sycophants can stand it," she responded.

"Oh, I think after a few moments of careful consideration, you will feel very warmly welcomed," he said with a quiet chuckle.

As a wonderful looking chocolate mousse was brought out for dessert, he looked down at her still exposed arm. "I could remove that for you," he said of the scar.

She shook her head. Unquestionably, his methods would not be pleasant or they would have already been attempted. Right after the war, she had searched like crazy for a way to remove her scar. Finally, she had come to terms with it, though. "While I might not be happy about my background, I do not want to outright deny the truth. Not to mention that striking someone down that would use that word against me… showing them that, despite it all, I can triumph over them… why would I want to remove the reminder I am better than them?"

He smiled in approval, and she hated that they both understood it the same way.

She left that night shortly after dessert, which was unfortunately divine. Upon arriving home, she walked tiredly to her desk. She was mentally exhausted and just wanted to sleep and forget.

Taking a quill, she quickly wrote a quick note to Adeline.

Adeline,

It was so nice to hear from you, even in the wake of such a rough week for us all. I am well; do not worry. I am not falling behind at work. I haven't heard from Lucius since he returned to Russia, but I am sure that he is as well as he can possibly be. I think your idea to go on a vacation with Abraxas is wonderful. I am sure you could both use a break to recuperate a bit. I will be seeing a lot more of you both when you return, but for now I am quite busy.

Love, Hera

She was sure the meaning would be picked up easily. Everything was according to plan. Lucius is not in immediate danger, either. Work on occlumency with Abraxas and keep him away. When he returns, he will likely see her rubbing elbows with his nasty death eater friends. Or bloodying them. She halfway hoped for the latter.

After sending the letter off with her owl, she climbed her stairs, unzipping her dress as she went. After shedding her clothes, she did not hesitate before collapsing in bed. Anything else could wait.

Welcome to Part 2! Thanks for coming over! Please leave a review on this chapter and let me know what you think of it! You were all (mostly all) so kind for Part One- Thank you!