DISCLAIMER: HP belongs to JKR. The storyline, all new characters, new character development, new developments are my intellectual property. Glorioux

The end of the War- My daughter-My Love

Nurenberg Deutschland, Weinachten Markt 1978-

The young woman in her gap-year, visiting her German relatives during the Christmas Holidays, loved the spectacle of the Christmas markets, the Glühwein, a mulled wine, redolent with orange and cloves, so hot that it warmed you all the way to your toes. There were stalls with all kinds of delicious local foods.

She loved everything, the crepes filled with hazelnut chocolate cream, the fresh Belgium waffles topped with fresh clotted cream and strawberries; all types of nuts, some hot roasted nuts, and some with a sweet cover; ah, and the hot pretzels or the small grilled sausages served in crusty bread with hot mustard.

The traditions and the holiday spirit all made it for way too much fun. The crowd was dense, and she had gone ahead of her Unkle Bernhardt and her Tante Marietta, who stayed a way back looking at a hand-carved nativity set, for her boxing day's present. They wanted to give her an heirloom, a gift to remember their visit for ages.

They were quite wealthy, but money was not discussed in her family, so Jean had no idea of their financial status or her parents. Her parents considered the talk about family's finances, in their own words, rather bourgeois.

It was the second Saturday of the Market, and the crowds were dense, the snow was making getting around somewhat trick. In a few minutes, she took one too many turns between stalls. She was looking for more pieces for her pewter figurines' collection, and now she was a bit lost.

She had saved 100 pounds sterling for this trip; she wanted to buy a few select pieces and was sure the money would go a long way.

Her uncle and aunt had sent her one or two pewter miniatures every Christmas, and her father had bought her an antique case. Her parents had wanted to give her more money, but she insisted that it was important that she learned to manage her funds to prepare her for the year at Cambridge.

Her parents didn't understand but let it go. They could give her whatever she wished, but she wanted to make it on her own; besides she had her own reasons.

She found the store with the name stamped on the packages that she received along the years. She was surprised to find out the cost of the miniature figurines; they started around twenty-sterling for each, which were expensive but worth it to her.

She also wanted to buy two bears from an old and world famous handmade-toys manufacturer; one to accompany her well loved one at home, and one to put away for the first baby she had. After all, she still loved her bear.

Unknown to Jean Henke, she had caught the eye of a man with long hair tied with a chord. The tall man wore a Bavarian-style long dark cloak. The striking man appeared to be in his mid to high thirties, could even be called beautiful if not for the cruel mouth and cold eyes.

This was the second night he had seen the young British woman. She was dressed in costly clothes but had a natural air about her; she had the look of a sprite, a being none of this world.

A slip of a Mudblood and he was furious at himself because she had stirred a longing in his groin; one he had not felt in years without refined techniques. He had been following her all evening. The growing desire made him wish to kill all those around if she were denied to him.

This was not the best of times to like or to desire anyone. The stakes were high; he was here in Germany to meet wealthy supporters willing to heavily finance his war effort.

They were racing supremacists whose parents, or in some cases themselves, had supported the Muggle dictator to rid the world of those which they had deemed inferior. They were also magical beings full of fervor and the desire for a world without the detestable Mudbloods. They had also supported Grindenwald, thus, for them, he was the natural successor.

He had to have her, but the relatives could pose a problem. He went by them, unobtrusively, pulled his wand to cast a charm to keep them distracted for a couple of hours. He followed her to the store and watched from the door.

"Yes, but if I buy three, perhaps you could give me a small discount." Jean was her most charming self.

She shook her long blond curly hair and gave the young pimply clerk a smile that melted the Dark Lord.

The imbecile was infuriating Voldemort. "No, Miss, our prices are fixed, and I cannot change them." He was around 20 and clearly the son of the owner of this exclusive shop.

His parents were the overly plump Mudbloods looking at the young fool with parental pride. He turned around and gave them a look that had them scurrying to the opposite end of the store as they signed to their god.

He smirked with evil satisfaction. "Der Teufel…Unser Heiligen Maria…" He heard them, "Yes, I am the devil indeed, and your divinities, your holy Mary, cannot protect you against me," he whispered.

She had tried for ten minutes until she gave up and finally acquiesced, "Okay, I will just take the owl and the rooster, " She sounded disappointed.

Voldemort approached the cashier. "I believe that the young lady asked you nicely, more than once, to give her a fair discount for these absurdly overpriced pieces." His voice and his cold eyes made the clerk wet on his lederhosen, he had seen death in front of him; at least he is smart. Voldemort decided.

"Of course, natürlich Mein Herren, I was about to suggest that she could take the three pieces at half price. It is a most generous offer, and I would be willing to give her this other small piece." He reached under the locked glass vitrine to take out a small snake with an apple, as compelled by Voldemort; who liked the symbolism.

She giggled with pure delight. Her laughter grabbed Voldemort's bollocks and made his cock jump; he had to control a sound tickling his throat. He was registering all his body reactions. This was the first time ever, not even for Maggie, the Scottish slag, who had broken his teenage heart. The stupid bitch, she rejected him for the pompous old fool Dumbledore who had only used her, just to break them apart; but he didn't want to bring them in here.

"Would you let me give you a small present? I have not seen a compatriot since I arrived here; it makes me glad that it should be you, so beautiful and such a lovely smile." His yearning eyes made her hungry for something she couldn't figure out.

"No, please, you should not. It is enough that you were gallant to come to my rescue." She shamelessly flirted with the rather old man. Old but very sexy, he could be her father's age. No younger, like 35 or so; how sinfully delicious, an adventure for this Christmas holiday.

"Please allow me to buy you one of the bears; your eyes keep going to them." She had been looking at a bear whose price tag was five times the money she had left. He had seen her mind. She wanted two, one was for a future baby. You will only have my babies. He thought possessively.

"I couldn't, it is rather too expensive for a casual acquaintance. I wouldn't be able to explain it to my uncle and aunt."

He pouted, Voldemort pouting, who could say, it sounded absurd. He wasn't even aware of his body language, nobody ever refused him, but she was allowed to do so.

"I tell you what, if you would accompany me for a cup of tea, I will consider myself happy and paid. I will buy the bear so you can be properly chaperoned. Who knows, maybe a young lady should be lucky enough to find an abandoned bag that nobody claimed?" His smile was a magnet; she was an infant being courted by the most dangerous man alive and didn't stand a chance.

He compelled the Muggle to wrap the two bears she wanted in one package before she even answered.

To date, Voldemort had never bought a present for a witch or any female, really for no one. This was a first for him, but like everything else around this girl, his mind had checked out for the meantime.

Her perfume was heady, and her nearness was intoxicating; he was no longer trying to figure out his feelings at this point, all he wanted was her young body under his, her bare breasts against his chest, his cock hugged tightly inside her hot sex, and his body thrusting in wild abandonment. He shuddered just thinking about it.

"My uncle and aunt, I must find them. They will worry, my German needs work, and they might even go to the Polizei, err, the constables. " She resisted one last time.

"They won't call the constables because we won't be gone long. If we see them on our way, I will even invite them to come along." He grinned something he had never done.

Of course not, I will avoid them like the pox, he thought.

The clerk came out with the packages nicely gift wrapped. Voldemort paid full price for all her purchases, and he whispered softly. "If she comes back, give her anything she wants if you value your life." He pulled the wand out his pocket to cast a compulsion charm and to erase all memory of him.

Gallantly, he offered the young lady his arm. "I think introductions are in order. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Lord Thomas Marvolo Riddle, at your service." She had just laid her small hand on his arm, and he had to bite his cheek not to groan in pleasure.

Even thru all the cloth layers, her hand felt as if she had laid a hot iron on his arm, one that had activated an internal flow of hot lava. His throat was dry as parchment, his body was sweating, and all he could think was of her naked body in his arms; he actually felt it, so real that his body clenched. So absorbed he was that he missed her eyes' flicker of recognition at his name's mention.

"Jean Henke, pleased to make your acquaintance my lord." She let go of his arm and gave him her best debutante curtsy. The same one she had learned when she had come out, just a few months before. He stood transfixed by her grace and her fresh innocence. Poor Jean, she was playing with a dangerous snake, thinking he was a plush toy. She should have run the other way.

In the near future, when Jean was giving birth to her child, she would wonder why she had gone with him that day. And the answer would always be the same, she had fallen in love for the rest of her life. The day she gave her baby the bear, she cried, "Darling, this is the only gift from your father; I still love him. I wish him here with us." Yes, she would always love him, forever

A/n You might have guessed where this is going. Another chapter later today or tomorrow. Meanwhile, I am finishing the open stories. Let me know.