Chandre woke to the warmth of a fire at her legs and the gentle comfort of a hard bed underneath her. Waking fully, eyes wide as she remembered where she had last been, she struggled to rise, and found that she was shackled to the bed, naked save for a collar about her neck, one that seemed to be blocking her telepathy. She now had no advantages, even if she dared to blast into anyone's head. Suddenly she glanced at her hand, eyes widening to see that it was completely healed, just like in her dreams.

The room, from what she could see, was the exact mirror of her dreams, and she shuddered, stomach clenching in fear, and the sheets rubbed roughly at her skin. There were no windows, nothing in the room save the bed and the fire and the door, the rest was stonewalls and floors and ceiling. She glanced up, eyeing the shackles. They seemed to be longer than she had thought at first, keeping her on the bed by a link eased over a hook. Carefully she rolled over, the chains clinking, and started to unhook herself, flipping the chain up and over.

The door opened and Voldemort glided in at that moment, his eyes widened as he saw her pale body, illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, tense as she saw him. She slipped the loop from the bed and rolled over, undoing the other, then slid off the bed, keeping it between them.

"Timid, my dear?" he asked, laughing in his shrill laugh. Tingles ran up and down her back, and Dark magic was thick at the back of her throat. He moved towards her and she slipped away, the chains clinking and pulling as she walked, very much aware of her limited movement. His lips split into a grin as he followed her, revealing pointy teeth. "I've waited long for this moment. Every time I brought you here, it wasn't the flesh, only the mind." He lunged and she moved back, but the chains caught, and his bony hand closed about hers, flinging her to the bed.

"Why me?" she asked, pulling back as he loomed over her.

"You are my image," he said, crawling up to her, stroking her creamy skin with his white hand. She shuddered at his touch. "Your hate and fear excite me, your beauty entices me, my little murderess. A perfect conquest."

"Not much of a conquest if I'm chained, is it?" Chandre asked, not moving as he touched her, hands exploring her body. She flinched and moved away when a fingernail dug into her flesh just under her breast, drawing blood, and she struggled to get away, but he held her down. Finally, in desperation she bit him in the ear, and he let her go, fingering the blood. Quickly she rolled away, the chains clinking and slithering about on the ground.

"Where are the two girls you took?" she demanded, backing away from him as he advanced. "If you release them, I'll give you whatever you want."

He grinned evilly. "You'll give me whatever I want no matter what I do," he replied.

She swallowed her revulsion and fear, and stepped close to him, pressing against his body, letting her lips trail down his face as her hands slipped inside his robe, exploring him. Slowly she moved downwards, letting her face travel down to his chest, licking and kissing and biting, reaching the end of the robe, where she bit down cruelly at the thin bit of skin she could pull up. He gasped in pleasure, his eyes half-lidded.

Slowly she stood up, running her body against his. No matter how inhuman he might be, he was still human enough to be very, very happy to be with her. "But will I give you this?" she murmured, rubbing her thigh against the fast growing mound under his robes. "Release them and there's more."

He backhanded her and she fell back, the chains rattling. He was over her before she could sit up and she pressed her hands against his chest, pushing back, her nails digging into his skin, drawing blood in ten perfect half-circles. His fingers gripped about her hair, pulling back cruelly and forcing her to look at his face. "Did you think that will work on me?" he growled.

She growled back, realizing that she could not be the prey without a fight. Kicking back at him, she rolled, dodging his hands and fists, and turned around, her body tense, watching him. He rose to his feet, and attacked her, moving with inhuman speed, but she moved to one side just as fast, bringing her fist up and slugging him in the face as her foot lashed out and kicked just above his knee, causing him to fall to the ground, where she leapt, groping for his throat as she straddled him, trying to tear it out.

His hands rose as he tried, closing about her waist, and she slashed at his throat, digging in deep before he lifted her up and threw her against the wall. Landing with a heavy thud, she slid to the ground and rose again, meeting him in the middle of his attack, hands and feet a blur as she attacked. His fist caught in her the jaw and the other in the stomach, but she kept attacking, pummeling as much of his body as she could, until she realized that he was still, watching her rather futile attempts. Slowly she paused, staring up at him and seeing the near fatal wound on his throat close up before her eyes.

Grabbing her by the throat, he slammed her against the wall once more, and, keeping her pinned as she struggled to kick at him, damage him in any way possible, he began to lick her stomach, biting down, drawing blood that he licked from his lips while her body lurched and struggled.

"You cannot win," he purred between licks, and she wrapped one of her chains about his neck, tightening. He reached up a hand and snapped it, then flung her against another wall, a spell cracking above her before she could rise to fight him.

Her eyes widened with pain as her body began to expand, and she gasped and clutched her ribs as they threatened to crack. Suddenly she was released from the spell and another was placed on her, one that opened wounds against her skin, drawing blood. Even though she couldn't see the thing that made the wounds, they still hurt, and by the ninth she was screaming. By the fifteenth she was laying limply on the ground, throat hoarse, back heaving as she sobbed silent sobs. The spell ended, and she was hauled to her feet by her hair, tears streaming down her cheeks as her back was pressed against the wall.

Voldemort sneered down at her, his lips locking with hers in a parody of a kiss. Chandre shoved him off, her strength waning, but he merely rocked back several feet and was back, lips pressed against hers, the cold flesh making her shudder with revulsion, and she tried to push him away again, but the spell had worn her energy away.

When Voldemort realized this, he gave a triumphant laugh and picked her up, carrying her to the bed where he dropped her and released the shackles from her hands and feet.

She watched while he removed his robe, and struggled to rise and fight him, whimpering in horror. He smiled and waved his wand, chanting another incantation.

A spasm of pain ripped through her and she flung herself back onto the bed, moaning as her body spasmed and jolted. Her back arched as she felt the blossom of pain spread through her abdomen and up her chest, burning and leaving her gasping as it subsided.

Another spasm tore through her, and she moaned, clutching her stomach even as her hands were forced wide open and Voldemort straddled her heaving body, watching her suffer with open pleasure.

Her senses were so dazed she never knew when he entered her, but she felt him pressing against her, in time with her spasms, and she heard his raptured pants when she fell into unconsciousness, mouth split open with silent screams.