A.N.: Thank you for all your lovely comments on the last chapter. They really built me up again. Life is just crazy here, but I guess it's everywhere right now. But that means, this is probably the best time for fanfiction, isn't it? Here's another one for you. I hope it makes you feel better, too.

Chapter 36: The punishment

Fire burned through him in an all-consuming rage as his prize dared to defy him, in public no less. He would have her thrashing on the floor had she been anyone else but she wasn't. No harm could come to her especially by his own hand. Oddly her reply only momentarily enraged him. It was then replaced with a tidal wave of lust and want he had not experienced in years. Such fire, such passion. He wanted it. He wanted to consume her in his own fire, to make her one with him.

He decided to throw everyone off balance with his response. It would be entertaining to see at least. He couldn't react in the way she was expecting. Yes, he could see the unsubtle move now for what it was. She wanted him to act against her. To hurt her or order her punished therefore ensuring she would never trust him. Clever girl, but not clever enough.

"So you say now. But time has a funny way of changing the opinions of even the most stubborn and thick-headed people," he said with a smile he knew unsettled everyone in the room. Everyone except her. Such a challenge.
"Besides," he purred as he turned his body to her and leaned slightly into her personal space. "I have been known to be very persuasive," he said with innuendo so thick that even Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't miss what he implied.

Her eyes flashed momentarily with her displeasure then the glint of something else passed that he did not like. She did not move away from him but simply smiled sweetly up at him with a hard glint in her eyes he would never mistake as playful. "When was that, in the 30's?" she asked him a crooked smile on her lips.

Shocked gasps filled the air at her blatant disrespect. He, too, felt the sting of her words that were meant to wound his pride. Yes, he was not the young, handsome man any longer that he once was. Wormtail, that useless rat had butchered up the ritual he had designed to bring him back so that he was now more snake than man. But that was a fact he planned to rectify sooner or later, with his potion master's help.
There was one thing he had in abundance though and that was magical power and cunning – qualities which he'd teach her to value.

"You stupid, little mudblood," Bella shrieked throwing herself at his girl with claw-like hands. It was only a moment until she had closed them around Miss Granger's throat in the attempt to hurt her. "You will not…"

She couldn't continue, pulling her hands back with a hiss of pain, looking at the huge blisters forming on them with wide eyes. He could see his prize* looking at his wounded follower with a satisfied glint in her eyes that she hid away a moment later. He had seen it anyway. Still, Lord Voldemort would have to teach his lioness a lesson, not only to not lose his face in front of his followers but to let her realize, that those muggles, she loved and defended, were nothing but better animals. A man was nothing without magic and everything if he had it in abundance, like he had. And he knew the perfect punishment that would make her realize just that.

"Do try to reign your temper in, Bella. I will not have you offend my future bride. Do it again and you'll feel what happens to those trying to harm or take away what is mine." The black-haired woman stared at him with wide fearful eyes that swam in pain at his words. She wasn't used being scolded by him, as she was one of his favourites but to hear him call the mudblood his future bride cut deep.

"Yes Master, forgive me, Master," she pleaded, hastily taking a step back from his girl. He nodded, before slowly taking the feisty Gryffindor's wrist in his hand and pulling her closer to him until she was almost against him. "Now to you, my Dear. I think it is important for you to learn a lesson or two. And I hope you understand that such a blatant insult must be punished, even if it was uttered by my Queen."

His prize looked at him, eyes ablaze with fire and he felt a shudder of longing run down his spine. Oh, he would enjoy this punishment, seeing those eyes light up in realization as soon as she finally understood. "But I think you knew that already, didn't you, my Dear?" He pulled her even closer so that he could smell her sweet scent filling his nose. "Now, my sweet girl, I want you to hand me your wand. I will take it from you as a punishment and will keep it, as long as it takes you to learn your lesson. No longer having it will hopefully make you realize the importance and worth of magic and therefore make you re-evaluate your stance against our ideals." Without breaking eye-contact to her he held out his other hand, silently demanding her wand. He could see her eyes widening in horror, as her whole body stiffened and tried to pull away. But it was of no use, she was his and he would let go of her when he was ready to do so.

For a moment she looked like she was about to protest, as she proudly raised her chin and took a deep breath. But he would not let her insult him in front of his followers again. "Will you hand over your wand on your own, or do you want me to take it from you?" he asked, his lips forming a predatory smile that let the pulse on her wrist flutter faster against his hand. "Because I must admit that I would thoroughly enjoy searching you for it." He saw her eyes hastily move back and forth as she seemed to contemplate her options. Then, finally, her posture seemed to deflate as she pulled her elegant vine wood wand from her sleeve putting it in his outstretched hand. As soon as he closed his fingers around it, he saw the fire disappear from her eyes, leaving nothing but black, expressionless orbs. Interesting.

He let go of her hand a moment later, staring at his other followers with a victorious little smile. "You see, Bella? There is no need for you to fear me being unjust or suddenly tolerating my authority being disrespecting. Even my favourites need to learn their place, don't they?"

The black-haired woman nodded eagerly, eyes wide with glee over the punishment he had chosen for his prize. It wasn't difficult to see that she resented the girl for the position he had given her in his life.

The punishment was a hard one, indeed. It was rarely used for his Death Eaters or among wizard-kind in general, as for almost all wizards it would be worse than torture. Losing one's ability to do magic was an unimaginable horror to every wizard. Therefore it would probably only be a matter of hours until his lioness had learned her lesson and would beg for his forgiveness.

"Indeed. My Lord is very wise," Bellatrix answered, her eyes wide with admiration and desire for him. How long would it be until he saw that look on his girl's face? Not long, he decided with a smile, staring at the elegant wand in his fingers. It felt much lighter than his own one, the magical trace still lingering on it powerful but without the darkness that was now irrevocable linked to his own one. How would it feel to use he wand, to make it bend to his will and channel is magic? Would it try to resist him? Or would it welcome him, like he wanted her to welcome him in her magical core?

But no, he couldn't risk using it, as it would only make it more difficult to win his lioness' affection and trust. Instead, he carefully weighed it in his hands before pocketing it in one of his robe's inner pockets, close to his heart.

"Well, now that this unpleasant situation has been resolved, I think it is time for us to enjoy some dinner, don't you think?" he asked, looking at Lucius and his wife with an enquiring look. The two of them hastily nodded, motioning to the large table that was set for them.

"Of course, my Lord," Lucius said smiling eagerly but he could see the tightening around his eyes.

Lord Voldemort turned to his intended wife with a gallant smile on his thin lips. "Well my Dear, shall we?" he said, offering her his arm. This time she did not refuse, accepting it without comment after only a moment of hesitation and he couldn't help but feel pleased with himself.

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God, she hated that bastard. One day she would wipe that satisfied grin from his face, Hermione swore to herself, as she finally managed to hide her emotions behind her Occlumency shields. But not today. Today she had lost her temper and let her pride get the better of her and now she paid for it. He had taken her wand from her, taken it in front of his followers, in front of Severus, leaving her totally defenceless and at his mercy. Merlin, she really was an idiot, a proud, stupid Gryffindor. Hermione could almost hear Severus scolding her for her idiocy. Would he be glad now that he had cut ties with her weeks ago? Or did it pain him seeing her here, like it did her seeing him looking at her with a bored, indifferent expression?

She knew that his behaviour was probably just a mask. He was a spy for the Order after all. But still, it had been weeks since they had last spoken properly and the last time they did, he had told her what he thought about her stupid, overly emotional behaviour. And right now she had given him proof, that she still hadn't learned, that she still wasn't worth his time and his effort, let alone his friendship. This was probably what hurt her the most.

"You, my Dear, will be dining at my side today," Voldemort announced leading her to the front end of the large table. There he escorted her to a seat at his right, where he carefully pulled back the chair for her, using wandless magic, before sitting down himself. Hermione followed his example with measured movements, avoiding to look at anyone around her. But as soon as dinner started, the first problem of having no wand occurred to her. She had learned to summon the food whenever she was dining with Voldemort and when she carefully raised her eyes, she saw the other dinner guest doing just that. It was probably some sort of pureblood etiquette no one had bothered to tell her about. Only Bellatrix Lestrange sat there, watching her with her eyes shining gleefully over Hermione's upcoming humiliation, especially as the food had been left just out of reach for her. Hermione sighed. She was used to be looked down at, as Malfoy and the other Slytherins had done so for years. She had accepted their insults years ago, because they always referred to her muggle-parentage and upbringing, things she prided herself with. There was no shame in serving herself with her hands, right? She had done so herself, even at Hogwarts, where most of the students even some purebloods, like the Weasleys, still did. There was no shame in doing that, which meant, that they could only humiliate her if she let herself be humiliated by that sort of thing. And she was determined to not let that happen.

Her chair grazed noisily across the floor, as she got up, her plate in hand. Without saying a word she slowly walked towards the middle of the table, stopping right next to Bellatrix Lestrange and serving herself some peas with the spoon. She could see the witch staring at her with wide eyes and allowed her elbow to touch the woman's arm, which the Death Eater hastily pulled back with a painful hiss. Interesting. The protective runes the Dark Lord places on her robes also worked if she decided to touch someone. Would they also protect her from being attacked by magic? Probably.

She could feel all eyes being focussed on her, as she moved around the table. No one dared to speak a word, watching her bearing her punishment with a stoical expression and a straight spine. Hermione didn't care. They could stare at her as much as they wanted because it was all they could do to her. Secretly she had the feeling, that everyone else was much more annoyed about her walking around the table to get her food over and over again than she was herself. The realization of it made her get up once more, to serve herself a helping of the pudding, that was right in front of Lucius Malfoy's nose. And for a long time she hadn't enjoyed a dinner more than this one, Hermione realized, hiding her smirk behind her walls of Occlumency.

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The girl had a spine of steel, Severus said to himself for the hundredth time that evening. After what seemed the longest dinner of the century he was finally back to his chambers at Hogwarts, sinking into his sofa with a heavy sigh. Merlin Hermione! The girl was a Gryffindor through and through, there was no doubt about it now. He had never seen somebody talking back to the Dark Lord like that, not in all the years he had served that horrible man. And even if a small part of him admired her bravery, most of him was paralysed because of the consequences in horror.

The Dark Lord had taken her wand, Severus thought, pouring himself a glass of firewhiskey before taking a big sip. This would leave her totally defenceless and at his master's mercy. Not that she would have been able to defend herself even with a wand if that maniac ever chose to hurt her, but there would at least have been a small gleam of hope that the girl would have managed to escape. Because Hermione Granger was brilliant and if there was a person to find a way out, it was her. But Severus could feel her fear, could feel the bond that still connected them tremble with it now. And even though knowing about her being scared filled him with dread, it was the first time in days he could actually feel the connection between them again. It was still there.

"I'm here," he whispered, trying to send hope and assurance through the bond, clinging to it like Hermione must have done in the last weeks. It was the only explanation why the bond was still there, after having ignored her for this many weeks. "I'm coming for you, I promise," he told her, or at least he hoped he did. Because if she had ever tried to send words through their connection he had never heard them. It didn't matter, not right now. He could feel her fear now, after all, so maybe she also felt the hope he was trying to send back. "It might take me a while to come up with a plan, but I will come for you and I will get you out. Just hold on…"
He repeated these words over and over again, trying to remember the look of fire and steel he had seen in her eyes just hours ago. The old Hermione, his Hermione, was still there, he told himself, trying to chase the image of her impassive expression from his mind. She had just hidden her true feelings inside her, was probably trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, which was the right thing for her to do. Still, it had deeply unsettled him to see her like that and to know, that this probably was how she looked now day after day: the smile wiped from her face, her eyes dull without the spark that usually shone in them. Would those features become truly hers after a while, when the last flicker of hope was lost for her? Would that be what remained of the brightest witch of her age?

No, it wouldn't be like this. Hermione would not break, she would hold out until he was coming for her. And when he did, he would take her away with him to a place where that possessive bastard would not be able to find her.

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