38 Headstrong

Serena tried to swallow the food in her mouth, a task the rather large lump in her throat was making very difficult to achieve. She eyed, apprehensively, the wizard who sat in front of her on the dinner table. Contrary to her Voldemort seemed to be quite enjoying his evening as he sipped from his glass of red wine. She glared at him when noticing he staring at her over the rim of his glass, a defensive move she used to hide the fear she felt every time he regarded her like that. Two weeks had passed and she still felt physically ill at his unmasked attempts to seduce her. What in bloody hell was the wizard thinking, she thought he was supposed to be an intelligent being. Was he really expecting for her to let herself be charmed by him from all people?

Serena had been founding herself more and more dumbfound with each passing day, the torture sessions she had expected from him hadn't came to be and, instead, she found herself being pampered. The first day had been more than a shook to her, after her 'conversation' with Voldemort she had downright expected to be thrown in some sort of prison maybe even returned to the 'affectionate' care of none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, but strangely enough neither of those things happened, she watched stunned as Voldemort transfigured her nightclothes into the dress she had saw earlier in the closet and her feet were no longer bare, but rather in a pair of comfy slippers that she assumed having been made to go on with the dress. What the...

"Now them, let's have dinner, shall we."

"Uh?" The astonished Gryffindor had gapped at him, what in Merlin's name is going on! "Sorry, but I'm not that hungry," she said noticing the outstretched arm he had motioned her to take. What's wrong with him? Unfortunately her belly decided to intrude making itself be known by a rather loud noise coming from it as if wanting to disagree with her stubborn decision.

"It seems your stomach don't share your opinion my dear," he had said to her.

"Humph," she opted to say averting her eyes, a light shade of pink gracing her delicate features. But she had not been capable of sulking for long, mere instants after her somewhat childish behaviour, her breath was taken out of her when Voldemort grabbed her arm without any preamble and practically dragged behind him towards a door he made appear with a flick of his wrist, so that's how he controls the wards. In that instance she had felt her heart drop to the ground, that was magic too advanced for her to mess with, it would be impossible to break trough them. But her discouragement hadn't lasted long, if she couldn't break such powerful magic she would fingnd a way to overstep them.

The discarded food on her plate being switched for the dessert brought Serena back to the present. The decision she had taken two weeks prior had proved to be quite difficult to accomplish, no matter what she tried she hadn't never been able to left the chambers she had discovered to be Voldemort's private rooms. She shook her troubled thoughts away and tried to, at least, eat some of the flan she had now on her plate. Far was the reservedness she had that first night. When Voldemort had finally stopped that night, two weeks ago, she had eyed her surroundings awe-struck. The new chamber had been the same she was in now, at the time it seemed to be a dinning room, assumption she end up confirming. The walls in a soft cream colour give the room a tranquillizing ambience that, she supposed, served to make a more enjoyable ambient. The ceiling had marvelled her with its grandiose fresco where fairies and nymphs laid scattered along different landscapes. From it a enormous candelabrum was descended lightning in a impressionable way the spacious chamber. A large mirror occupied great part of one of the far walls. A table, her best lead for founding the true propose of that chamber, had been arranged for dinner. Only two seats had been prepared on the nearest side of it.

Serena recalled her nervousness that night with sour amusement, she had eyed the delicacies with a mist of apprehension and desire as her belly choose to remind her of its empty state. She had bit her lip tensely, a action Voldemort choose not to comment about as he directed the stressed Gryffindor to one of the seats before taking the other one for himself.

Aware of the blond's reserves the sly wizard scooped the soup shell and had filled her awaiting plate. She stared the plate sorrowful before sighing and crossing her arms over her chest, "sorry, but as I have said before, I'm not hungry." That time, she had felt surprised by his actions, amazed with the possibility of him expecting for her to not have any qualms about eating or drinking anything he could ever given her. There were a myriad of potions with which he could have spiked her food and drink and Veritaserum was far from being the worst he could use.

He had chosen them to simply raise an non-existent brow at her obvious lying words, but as the intelligent wizard he was he knew when not to push it, "very well, as you wish," he had stated before serving himself and start eating.

She recalled having hindering a sigh as she had stared him half exasperated half envious, this is torture. Although that time her stomach had been begging her to show it some mercy and change her mind she had stood strong through-out all dinner. Tired and grudging because of her empty belly she had kept her mouth closed when he, again, raised from his seat and offered her his arm.

She refused it, of course, having opted to, instead, follow behind him. She wasn't going to grovel to his whims, but she had known she had to, at the very least, show some kind of respect for the wizard if she wanted to have any chance of getting out of that dammed place, wherever it may be. It would have proved to be a stupid move to try to antagonise the wizard without good reason.

Serena barely remembered that walk, so tired she had been. But she recalled barely being able to stiff a yawn as she passed through his office and them the library that the night had made look sinister in its reigning obscurity. In no time, she had found herself back at the room she had woken up earlier that day.

Serena put down her napkin after having wiping her mouth, the flan long gone. She sighed, that night, two weeks ago, she had been close to a nerve-breakdown. She remembered she had watched Voldemort attentively expecting for him to show her where she would pass the night. She recalled, she had tried to chase away the bad feeling she had felt as the minutes passed by and he simply left her there to go to the bathroom. She was horrified when the bathroom door opened again and Voldemort entered the room in only a pair of silk green pyjama pants.

A scaring thought crossed her mind and with fearful eyes she had foolishly asked him, "where.. where I'm supposed to sleep?" She remembered having stammered.

"Isn't it obvious my dear? The bed of course."

She had shock her head in denial as she took several steeps back, "n.. you can't really... NO! Absolutely not! She had answered fuming, her previous fear transformed into rage.

"No," he had said to her as he hid his amusement, "it's my bed or the floor, your choice," he had finished secure of his victory.

Letting her mind return to the present she directed her attention to the garnet eyed wizard with which she had been sharing her meals ever since she had been captured, "may I be excused," she told him more than asked at which he simply nodded his acceptance. Serena did not lose any time in leaving the dinner room and, consequentially, his company. She passed through his deserted office and the only books, she had discovered, he had allowed her to read without a second glance before continuing in her way; she passed the magnificent library sorrowful as she fought the strong will she felt to try and grab any book she could get her hands into. It would be a fool's errand, the certainty she had that she wouldn't be able to read any of them until he wished her to absolute.

Bastard. The Gryffindor glared at her closed fists, that madman was obviously trying to fuck up her mind with this thing of giving or taking privileges if she pleased or displeased him. Merlin, I feel like I'm being dog trained. She sighed sadly, well, at least he hadn't taking her too seriously, she feared what he could have done if he had really put his mind into shaping her according to his wishes. She cold only hope he would continue undervaluing her enough to not became a danger until she could find a way out of… wherever she was.

…...

Voldemort eyed absently the door the young witch had just left through. He frowned as he swayed the ruby liquid around his glass. He was torn between elation at discovering an discerning mind in the girl or fury at the astuteness and insight she demonstrated every time she managed to dodge his whims. Ever since that night when only his perfect self control had saved him from making a fool of himself when she had preferred to sleep seated on the hard cold floor than to share with him a bed sufficiently large for them to not have to get near each other and that after had clearly opted to starve than to eat anything he could give her. He had woken the next morning in a foul mood leaving his rooms before the witch could wake up. He hadn't wanted to unload his rage over the girl, it would definitely hinder his plans concerning her and he knew he had been furious enough to make the mistake of killing her. Instead, his followers had been the ones on the wrong side of his wand, not that he really care.

He had thought her defences had started to crack when she had been polite at his return to his chambers at mid-day, he had thought her restless night and two skipped meals had been enough to break her spirit, oh how wrong he had been. She had eaten that time and again at dinner, but when he had expected her to go to bed she had stubbornly refused again. He should have seen it then, but he had dismissed as the fear he was aware she felt of him. The day after he had raised earlier and taken a shower before waiting for her to wake, she had been startled at first, but soon she seemed to calm down. He had noticed the subtle glances she launched at the bathroom door, again he made a mistake as he thought she wanted to take a bath, but hadn't wanted to displease him by asking for it. He had been an arrogant fool that day, he had given her permission to take the bath she so strived for and chose another dress from their closet while he took care of some documents on his office, he had informed her them he would return for them to eat breakfast.

Like in the day before she hadn't refused that meal or the other two after that, but for the third time he watched disbelievingly as she denied him his wishes again. He had been in a uproar, the next morning he left before she could wake up leaving her only her note informing her meals where only served when he was present, a empty stomach would somewhat tame her he had thought. A couple of hours later after having exorcised some of his wrath on some unfortunate Death Eaters, he returned sure of finding a much more docile lioness, truth be told she had been completely civil with him, not even mentioning her lack of breakfast, but by Salazar, arrived the night she shunned him down again. By that point he knew that he only had two choices or he relented and gave her her own room or he killed her and forgot he had ever laid eyes on that infuriating witch.

Of course, he had chosen the first, he had too much planed to forfeit his own desires. This had only continued with his every attempt at win her over, the books he had offered her to read she had refused to even touch (books about the arts of course, but still).

After two weeks she remained as stubborn as in the first day, it was time to change strategies. He took a swing at his glass emptying it, he smirked. She had all of her mother's strengths, he was sure she also had her weakness. He summoned the wizard he wanted and waited, he didn't wait long before Lucius Malfoy entered the room, a painful look on his face.

"Lucius, call Greyback," he smiled, " I have a hunt for him."

Lucius left before another word could be spoken, he knew his place.