Disclaimer: these characters are not mine – they belong to JK Rowling

AN: This was a fic that was inspired by the Epic Tomione Humor Fic challenge from the Gutter City Tomione forum, though it had a mind of it's own and is a fair split between humor and drama/romance. Also, it ended up being 6 (maybe even 7 if I include an epilogue) chapters rather than a one shot. I tried, I really did. There is smut starting in chapter 3, so be forewarned! Anyway, enjoy!

~~{0}~~

Wormtail once again walked dejectedly from the Dark Lord's audience chamber back to his pathetic little room, alone. Always alone. Back when he was a student at Hogwarts, many years ago, he had always felt like a fourth wheel. James, Sirius, and even Remus had been popular, and there was never any shortage of women ready and willing to warm their beds. He had never been good with the ladies. No one ever looked twice at the short fat kid when Sirius was around with his luscious black locks and sparkling blue eyes. James had Lily, who was by far, the most beautiful girl in Gryffindor, and Remus, well, it seemed even the Slytherin girls couldn't say no to the excitement of being with a werewolf.

Still, all these years later, not much had changed for Wormtail. He was a Death Eater now, sure, but even the reputation that brought along with it, still was not enough to entice women to his bed. The Dark Lord of course could have his pick of any woman he wanted. The Death Eaters even offered their own wives, if they had them, if he should decide that he liked the way they looked at any particular moment. Not even Narcissa Malfoy had been spared from warming the Dark Lord's bed. There was one witch, however, that seemed to enjoy the Dark Lord's attentions, despite the fact that she too, was married; Bellatrix Lestrange. Wormtail did not often give into fits of jealousy, but when it came to a certain dark haired Death Eater, he couldn't help himself. He had always coveted Bellatrix, even back when he was a student. She had been a year older than him, and a Slytherin of course, but he wanted her all the same. In his eyes, she had only grown more beautiful over the years, albeit slightly more insane. She was married to Rodolphus Lestrange through an arranged pureblood marriage, however everyone knew it was the Dark Lord she fancied. Wormtail had been jealous not only of Rodolphus when they had married, but even more so when he witnessed the attraction she seemed to have to the Dark Lord.

It truly wasn't fair. He may be fat, and seriously lacking in the looks department, but the Dark Lord didn't even have a nose. Still, Bellatrix had never even so much as glanced in his direction, her eyes always trained on Voldemort. It was this night, after a particularly wanton display in the Dark Lord's audience chamber that Wormtail decided that he'd played second (or in this case third) fiddle long enough. He was certainly not above using dark magic to achieve his aims. He had always been fairly good with potions, and with this thought in mind, his plan was hatched; he would brew the Amortentia, and find a way to slip it to Bellatrix with no one being the wiser. He would make sure that it was him that she laid eyes on first. She would be his. No longer would she crave the Dark Lord's touch, but his alone. He could already imagine her lithe body writhing beneath him, and the shrieks of pleasure that would fall from her lips. Wormtail sneered in delight at the wicked thoughts and he immediately set to work gathering the necessary ingredients.

~~{0}~~

It was a week later that Wormtail had finally finished a perfect batch of Amortentia, and concocted his plan to slip it to Bellatrix. His timing couldn't have been any better it seemed, as luck would have it, Potter, Weasley, and the Mudblood had practically fallen into their laps, and were currently being held at Malfoy Manor awaiting the Dark Lord. No doubt, the Dark lord would be in a celebratory mood upon hearing the news, so he would convince him that they should have a toast to commemorate the occasion. It would go largely unnoticed if a single glass amongst the many were spiked with a few drops of love potion. He would be sure to stand by Bellatrix that evening, and capture her attention by any means necessary as soon as she took a sip. It was perfect.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, "Wormtail!"

The Dark lord was calling him again. He sighed, and stowed the vial of potion safely in his pocket before prostrating himself before the Dark lord.

"Yes My Lord, how can I be of service" Wormtail simpered as he bowed low, hating the man in front of him.

"Potter has escaped. Again. However, in his haste to run from me, he has neglected to save his little Mudblood. She is to be cleaned up and brought before me." Voldemort said while making a 'shooing' motion with his long pale hand in clear dismissal.

"Yes, My Lord." Wormtail replied obediently while still bowing and backing slowly out of the room. If there was one thing he had learned, it was to never turn his back on the Dark lord.

Once he was back in the hallway, he scowled. His plan was already falling apart at the seams, no thanks to that Potter brat. He sighed and headed to the cellar where the Mudblood was being held, and his eyes lit up momentarily as he spied the object of his affection currently sneering at the small thin girl through the iron gate.

Bellatrix turned towards him when she heard his approach and sneered in disgust, "What do you want you disgusting rat?"

Wormtail flinched imperceptibly at her insult, but he didn't let it get to him. Soon enough, he would find a way to slip the potion to her, and he would never again hear another insult aimed at him leave her luscious lips. She gazed at him disdainfully through hooded eyes while waiting for his answer.

"The Dark Lord wishes to have a little chat with the Mudblood." Wormtail answered honestly, and flicked his gaze towards the mousey girl huddled in the corner.

"Well, you mustn't keep him waiting. Get on with it then" she said icily as she stepped aside so that he could open the gate.

The girl was trembling as he stepped towards her, Bellatrix watching every move from the doorway.

"You are to be cleaned up and brought before his Lordship." Wormtail told her while brandishing his wand towards her.

"Cleaned up? Whatever for?" Bellatrix asked incredulously from the doorway, a hint of jealousy coloring her words.

"It wasn't my place to ask." Wormtail answered smoothly, and sneered at the scared girl who had now risen shakily to her feet. He jabbed his wand towards the door to signal her to start moving. Bellatrix took a step back, all the while her hooded eyes shooting daggers to the frail girl who passed by her, her eyes trained on her feet.

As Wormtail made to pass Bellatrix, her hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve. He looked at her questioningly; never in all the years they had known each other had she ever once laid her hand on him.

"After you've delivered the Mudblood, you will fetch me a drink. Whiskey." She commanded and turned sharply on her heels and strode away from them. Clearly, Bellatrix was not at all happy about the Dark Lord being alone with the Mudblood.

Wormtail couldn't believe his luck. He would get her whiskey as requested, and add the potion before he gave it to her. It was perfect. She would be screaming his name before the night was through!

With a spring in his step, he forcefully jabbed his wand into the girl's back, forcing her to one of the manor's guest suites.

"You will clean yourself up, and put these clothes on and wait here until I fetch you. You have ten minutes." He said sharply before he left her in the room and warded the door behind him. He stood outside the door, making sure she couldn't escape and that no one else entered the room.

A short while later, Wormtail entered the room; the girl was sitting on the bed anxiously biting her lip.

"Let's go" was all he said as he once again kept her at wand point and led her through the darkened hallway of the manor. He led her to a suite of rooms that were heavily warded, and her eyes finally settled on the man who was seated in the large wingback chair absent mindedly stroking a large snake.

"Miss Granger, I presume? Imagine my surprise when I received a summons alerting me that Potter was finally captured. Alas, he had already fled before I arrived here, but as fortune would have it, he left you behind. Obviously, even Mister Potter wouldn't risk his life to save a Mudblood." Voldemort said cruelly, taking a perverse pleasure in the way her face twisted in pain at his words.

"Where are my manners…Wormtail! Bring two glasses of fire whiskey, then leave us."

Wormtail nodded, only too happy to leave the girl with him. He also had to get whiskey for Bellatrix, so he poured three glasses, and then glanced around quickly to be sure no one was looking, he slipped three drops of the Amortentia in one of the glasses.

He took the small tray holding the three glasses, and made his way back to the Dark Lord's chambers. He bowed before the Dark lord, and as he did so, Voldemort quickly snatched two glasses from the tray. Wormtail realized in a moment of panic, that he was no longer sure which glass contained the potion. Without wanting to draw any undue attention to himself, he bowed once more, and quickly left them alone. Bellatrix was still expecting her drink, and he could only hope that the glass on the tray was indeed the one that held the potion. If not, he didn't want to think about the consequences.

~~{0}~~

Voldemort swirled the caramel colored liquid around in his glass as he motioned to Hermione to be seated. She clutched the glass in her small hands, but made no move to drink any of it. Her eyes were darting around the room nervously, no doubt looking for an escape route.

"Considering the fact that I could kill you before you so much as blink, I would advise against trying anything stupid." Voldemort said as if reading her thoughts. He hadn't actually done it, her thoughts were clearly written on her face.

Her eyes once again met his, and he smirked as he took a sip of his whiskey. He felt a pleasant feeling of warmth envelope his skin, which he assumed was part of the effects of the fire whiskey; it was called that for a reason after all. He blinked at the small witch sitting before him. She was wearing a dress that was clearly too big for her, and her damp hair fell to just below her shoulders. Voldemort inhaled sharply, as he gazed at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. She was the most beautiful witch he had ever laid eyes on.

Hermione furrowed her brow, growing increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He had been staring at her silently with his crimson red gaze, for the better part of three minutes, with a strange look on his face.

Finally, he broke the silence; "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I never saw true beauty till this night."

Hermione blanched. Was that Shakespeare? Was he quoting Shakespeare? What the hell?

"These times of woe afford no time to woo…" Voldemort breathed, still looking at her in a way that she could only describe as disturbing.

"Um…What?" Hermione managed to say as she slowly rose from the chair and began to back away. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry…

Voldemort rose from his seat and glided towards her, snatching her hand in a quick movement and holding it to his chest.

"Under love's heavy burden do I sink!" he said as began to caress her hand and continue to gaze at her like a starving man.

"What are you talking about? I'm a Mudblood! You hate mudbloods!" Hermione spat. She was getting angry now. What the hell was he playing at?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet" he said brushing off her anger and moving closer to cup her cheek.

"Look, I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but if you could just crucio me and get it over with, I'd appreciate it." She spat, trying to wrestle her hand away from him.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss" He breathed huskily as he tried to pull her closer.

"I'm quite certain that won't be necessary!" Hermione struggled in his grasp in a desperate attempt to get away.

Before Hermione could stop it, she was pulled against his chest, and his lips crashed into hers. She stood stock still, like a deer caught in the headlights. His tongue moved along the seam of her lips demanding entry. She felt his hand roam down her back, and she squeaked in surprise when she felt his hand cup her bottom. He took advantage of her surprise and deepened the kiss. To Hermione's utter shame, his kiss was not entirely unpleasant. With her eyes firmly closed, against her better judgement, she began to kiss him back. To her surprise, his mouth was warm, and he tasted like spearmint toothpaste of all things. As she inhaled, she could detect the scent of parchment and candlewax on him, he smelled like a library. Hermione would be lying if she said that the wrongness of the entire situation wasn't strangely appealing. He was her enemy, and she hated him; truly she did, but the way his tongue was moving against hers, she was having trouble remembering why. Honestly, no one would ever believe her anyway, she could just keep this to herself. Her arms wrapped around his neck of their own accord, and her hands grasped his hair as she pulled him closer.

Wait a minute…hair?

She pulled away then, and gasped as she caught sight of him; gone was the snake-faced man she had come to know as Lord Voldemort. In his place stood a beautiful man with jet black hair, high cheekbones, full lips, and a chiseled jaw.

"What happened to your face?!" Hermione blurted, the shock of this new handsome version of Voldemort was confusing her even more.

He caught sight of his reflection in a mirror and his hand flew to his face. Staring back at him, was the long forgotten face of his former self, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"What just happened?" Hermione asked, not sure if this new development should be more worrisome then it already was.

"It seems that an act of true love has restored my soul…" Voldemort began as he turned towards her with a beatific smile.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!…who said anything about true love? I may have kissed you back, but that does not mean I am in love with you." Hermione said crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

"I have conquered death, time and time again, but I would fall at your feet if you but asked it of me." He said looking into her eyes with a look that made her knees go weak.

"Oh, Sod it!" she said, feeling her stomach do a little somersault at his words, she stepped towards him and pulled him towards her by the front of his robes and kissed him hard.

She managed to break the kiss and brushed her lips over his ear as she recited, "For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night."

His lips once again covered hers in a demanding kiss. She was kissing him back now with equal fervor, and trying to pull his robes off.

It was at this most unfortunate moment that none other then Bellatrix Lestrange walked in.

"Expelliarmus!" Bellatrix shouted, and Voldemort's wand flew from him and landed in Bellatrix's outstretched hand.

"Mudblood! What have you done with the Dark Lord!?" She cried, rage twisting on her face

Voldemort pushed Hermione behind him, and turned to face Bellatrix fully.

"I am the Dark Lord, you Twit! You will pay dearly for insulting my love!" He yelled, glaring at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix's jaw dropped, her face twisting in confusion. What the hell was going on? This imposter didn't look or sound like the Dark Lord, although he did have his wand. But there was no way the Dark Lord would ever defend a mudblood. This had to be one of Potter's tricks to save his little mudblood whore.

Bellatrix smiled evilly and leveled her wand towards Tom. The Dark Lord would surely forgive her if Potter would finally be dead.

Hermione's eyes widened when she realized what was about to happen. Thinking fast, she did the only thing that she could think of to do; She grabbed Tom's arm, and apparated away with him. She of course would not have been able to do this herself, but since the wards at Malfoy Manor allowed him to come and go as he pleased, she was able to use that loophole to get them both to safety. She opened her eyes after the unpleasant squeezing sensation had subsided, and she and Voldemort were now standing in the living room of her parents small beach house in the south of France.

Two thoughts simultaneously hit her then, and she swore under her breath. First, they were both wandless and alone in a muggle area of France. Secondly, she was sure he'd been given a love potion of some sort, and as sure as her middle name was Jean, that potion would eventually wear off…

Shit.

She knew Voldemort was an extremely powerful wizard, and she was sure that his ability to do wandless magic far surpassed her own. The only comforting thought at the moment, was that at least he wouldn't be able to cast an unforgivable on her without his wand. At least she hoped.

"Where are we?" He asked, his hand still rubbing small circles into the small of her back.

"We're at my parent's beach cottage in southern France. It was the only place I could think of that they wouldn't think to look for us."

He just stood gazing at her lovingly, and the next moment, the look seemed to melt off his face, only to be replaced with a look of shock, which morphed quickly to anger.

"Miss Granger, what the fuck have you done to me?" he said in an eerily calm voice, which didn't bode well for her continued survival. She felt a surge of her own anger hit her. How dare he blame this on her!

"Me?! I just saved your bloody life, that's what I did! If you hadn't noticed, you were the one spouting Shakespeare at me!"

His face twisted into a look of disgust, "You obviously slipped me a potion! I would never…with a mudblood no less!" He shouted, pointing an accusatory finger in her face.

"Excuse me? How the hell could I have slipped you anything? I was wandless, and being held at wand point in case you hadn't noticed. It was your disgusting rat who gave you the whiskey, I had nothing to do with it, you smarmy git!" She shouted back, batting his finger out of her face.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, seeming to mutter to himself, "Yes…Wormtail. He will wish for death when I am through with him…"

"Look. The only way I could have apparated through the wards was by taking you with me. I wasn't too keen on allowing Bellatrix to kill me, and I'm pretty sure you are still breathing right now because of what I did, so I believe 'Thank you' would be the appropriate response." Hermione said angrily, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I didn't need the help of a mudblood." He spat, still glaring at her.

"Are you sure? Because it didn't look like it from where I was standing." Hermione said still not backing down.

"I had it under control!" He yelled before he stormed off in a huff into one of the small bedrooms and slammed the door.

Hermione sighed. Without her wand, she certainly couldn't kill him, not that she thought she could have anyway, she wasn't a murderer. The house wasn't connected to the Floo network, and she had no means of contacting anyone for help. It was too risky to apparate anywhere else, since she was sure that Voldemort's corrupt Ministry would be trying to track her. Even Voldemort couldn't risk apparating back to Malfoy Manor or the Ministry; without his wand, looking like he did, the Death Eaters would attempt to kill him on sight. If Bellatrix hadn't believed he was the Dark Lord, it was likely no one else would either; it wasn't as if they would wait for an explanation.

With those depressing thoughts in mind, she did the only thing she could think to do, and headed towards the kitchen. Her mom had always turned towards cooking when she needed to think, and Hermione had often done the same when she was away from Hogwarts. At school, she had always found solace in the library, but here in the muggle world, she could lose herself in the kitchen. She rifled through the cabinets, hoping that there would indeed be food in the pantry. Her parents hadn't been to the beach house in some time, and now that Hermione had erased their memory of her and relocated them to Australia, they likely didn't even know they owned a house in France. Thankfully, Hermione found dry pasta, jarred tomato sauce, seasonings and a bottle of red wine in the pantry; at least they would be able to eat that night. They would have to get some food from the market if they were going to be staying here for any length of time, since there was really nothing else to eat.

Hermione set to work, boiling the pasta, and warming the sauce. She added some seasoning to it so that it wasn't completely bland, and opened the bottle of wine. Whether she liked it or not (and she emphatically did not), she was stuck here with Voldemort. She decided to attempt a diplomatic approach, and offer a temporary truce, so that they could figure out what to do. Once they were out of this situation, they could go back to hating eachother.

She took a deep breath, and walked over to the bedroom door that he had hidden himself away behind. It had been her old room as a child, and she knocked.

"Um…Voldemort? I made dinner, if you're hungry."

There was no answer from the door, and after a few minutes, she had started to wonder if he was even still in there at all… When the door was unceremoniously yanked open.

"Going to try and poison me now, are you?" He narrowed his eyes at her in challenge.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his paranoia. She mentally cursed herself though, because the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Dammit.

"Of course not. We simply need to eat. Whether you like it or not, we're stuck together for the time being. If we want to get out of this mess, we're going to have to work together. Once we do, you can go back to trying to kill me."

"What makes you think I won't just kill you when you sleep? Just because I don't have a wand, doesn't mean I can't just kill you the muggle way." He pointed out, and smirked at her evilly.

Hermione shuddered. She would have to remember to hide all the kitchen knives and lock her bedroom door.

"Because if you kill me, you'll have no hope of getting out of this alive either. You are just as much on the Death Eaters kill list as I am right now, so congratulations." Hermione spat sarcastically.

He scowled at her and crossed his arms over his chest. She was right. Dammit.

"Now, if you can manage to fit your big head through the door, the food is getting cold." Hermione said and turned away from him and stalked into the kitchen.

He walked in a moment later, hesitantly, and narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

"How do I know you didn't poison the food or wine?" He hissed accusingly at her.

Hermione huffed and reached over to his plate and took a bite of his spaghetti and a sip of his wine and gestured back at herself, "There, Happy? I'm not poisoned."

He still stood with his eyes narrowed.

"You could have already taken the antidote."

"Oh for Merlin's sake! Eat, don't eat, I don't bloody care. If you want to starve, be my guest." She said and firmly decided to ignore him and enjoy her dinner.

After a few more moments of silence, he sat stiffly in the chair across from her, and picked up his fork. Hermione glanced at him, as he took a bite of spaghetti. He chewed it thoughtfully, and wiped his mouth delicately with a napkin.

"It needs more salt."

Hermione raised her eyebrow at him. What an ungrateful prick!

"Since when do you know anything about muggle cooking?" she said in annoyance, taking a sip of her wine.

"One does not need to know about muggle cooking in order to appreciate the flavor of a meal." He said condescendingly as if she were too stupid to know the difference, and picked up his fork again.

Hermione picked up the salt shaker and threw it at him. It bounced off of his head, and Hermione smiled.

"Well, that was childish." He said glaring at her over his wineglass.

"And running into the bedroom and slamming the door in my face wasn't?" She asked raising an eyebrow at him.

He sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, (and he really did hate it), she was right. They would have to find some way to coexist in this small cottage until they figured out what to do.

"Do you know anything about love potions?" he suddenly asked her, effectively changing the topic.

"Yes, why?" she asked, still watching him closely. It really was a shame that someone so nasty could be that good looking.

"It would seem that this love potion, although not terribly long lasting, was a really powerful one." He said thoughtfully as he sipped his wine.

"I'd say, it was strong enough to have you reciting poetry at me." Hermione smirked and sipped her wine.

He glared at her over his wine glass, "An unpleasant side effect that you would do well to keep to yourself." He snapped.

Hermione snorted, "Oh? And why should I do a thing like that?" trying to hold back her laughter.

"Because if you don't, I'll sew your mouth shut with a rusty needle." He snapped venomously.

"Oh? What happened to 'If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine'?" Hermione chuckled.

"Regardless of what I said, I was clearly not in my right state of mind. The same cannot be said for you, however…" he said and smirked at her. "Do enlighten me, Miss Granger, as to why you had your tongue practically down my throat."

Hermione blushed. She really didn't have a good excuse. Anything she could possibly say would sound incredibly insipid, and he knew it.

"You kissed me first." She snapped, wanting to push the blame back to him.

"I mean, I could understand your moment of weakness had I looked like this when the kissing started, but you kissed me before that...how interesting." He said conceitedly as he steepled his fingers and continued to gaze at her with a smug expression.

"Fuck you!" She hissed in indignation

"You apparently wish." He said smirking as he stood and finished the last of his wine.

She sat fuming silently, refusing to meet his gaze. She heard him snap his fingers, and to her surprise, the table was cleared and the kitchen was clean. She wasn't about to thank him for saving her from having to wash a sink full of dishes by hand, so she stood and pushed past him to her parents old bedroom, which was the larger of the two.

She smiled and took a perverse pleasure at the thought that the high and mighty Dark Lord would be sleeping in the smaller room bedroom that was decorated with pink wallpaper with a Unicorn theme. Take that, Voldemort.

She shut her parent's bedroom door and locked it, remembering his earlier threat about killing her the muggle way. She sagged against the door and rubbed her temples. It was going to be a long night.