ANATHEMA
By Yih

Note: This is an AU fantasy. That means canon events will not happen as you see them. They will be twisted to fit this world, which is not like quite like the wizarding world, though there are still wizards. And it's not a "go back" in time thing either. Also this chapter contains violence, death, and blood.

Chapter Four
The Punishment

My body burns with pain. There are aches everywhere from my head down to my toes. I move my arm and grimace. I hesitantly touch my stomach, not surprised to find myself bare. I don't feel any of the slickness of spilt blood. Master has healed. I ought to be grateful, but I'm worried.

Is Hermione all right?

I groan and sit up. Immediately someone pushes me down. The hands are cold, the fingers bony. Snape. I blink furiously, trying to focus on his sallow face. I see the large nose and I'm certain it's him.

"Snape," I rasp.

"My lord," he says blandly, "the Great Lord has given me orders to make sure you remain in bed."

"If I don't…"

"Then you won't much like it," Snape promises.

I sigh and allow him to settle the duvet over me. "Thirsty."

"I will get you some water, but remain in the bed. The Great Lord has set certain spells over you to make certain you stay."

I grimace. "I need to talk to him."

"The Great Lord is gone."

My eyes want to widen, but I force them to remain still much as my face stays blank. "Do you know when he will be back?"

"By tonight."

I swallow hard. I know where he's gone. He might not know where Hermione is and a tracking spell wouldn't quite work when he didn't know the person—but Hedwig would tell him, if he threatened to harm me.

Oh Hedwig… Hermione.

I don't notice until it's too late when Snape's finger pinch over my nose and a potion is shoved down my throat and I drift into oblivion.

"My little torment," Voldemort hissed.

I recoiled when the skeletal man touched my cheeks. My parents were dead because of him. He had killed him. I wanted to claw at him, but I remembered what he would do to me if I disobeyed him. He promised—he vowed to make me hurt until I screamed for an ending.

I knew it was true. He had carved my stomach open before closing it with magic. The pain had been too much and I had almost blacked out. I still had the scar, slashed over my belly button. He told me it was a reminder, an effective one.

"Kill this," Voldemort urged, gesturing to the rabbit in front of me. "Now."

I reached and grabbed the rabbit. My hands curled around its neck and I hesitated.

"Kill it!"

I snapped its neck.

"My little executioner," Voldemort murmured, licking my ear and caressing my cheek, "well done."

I wake up shuddering, painfully aware of my sickening desire. I cruelly rid my self of it and trace my finger up my stomach. The scar is still there, a thin line from my groin to my belly button. It is more than a significant reminder. It is a numerous one. Seven times. Seven times Master has cut me open.

I expected the letter to make the eighth, but it has yet to happen. Whatever the information is, it's something that pleases him. I squeeze my eyes close. I know the potion. I'm not supposed to be awake yet.

I must sleep.

"Wake up, my lord."

I crack an eye open and notice Snape has a cup of something in his hands, it looks like hot tea. I push myself into a sitting position and he places it into my hands. "What is it?" I ask hoarsely.

"Tea."

"Poisoned?"

"No."

I still stare suspiciously at it. "Spoiled ingredients?"

"Tea leaves do not spoil."

"Then what?"

Snape presses his lips together then relaxes. "There is nothing amiss, my lord."

I drink it down and find it is oddly soothing, even replenishing. "You've laced this with something."

"A calming potion and an energy restorer."

I narrow my eyes. "Master's request?"

"Yes."

"I am to see him soon, are I not?"

"As soon as you finish."

I gulp the last of it. "I'm ready."

Snape nods and takes the cup from me. I roll out of the bed and he catches me before I fall to my knees. Even with the restorer, the previous potion still has my body feeling lethargic if not my mind.

I sigh and lean against the wall, my legs trembling as he strips me down and dresses me.

"Snape," my Master says coldly, "why is he like this?"

"The potion seemed to react badly with him, Great Lord," Snape responds stiffly.

"And you did not foresee this aftereffect?"

Snape lowers his head and shakes it. "No, my deepest apologies."

Master raises his hand and curls it into a loose fist. I remember how it feels to be choked in a handless hold. Snape scratches, claws at his neck, but there's nothing there to rid himself of the suffocation. All he does with his nails is to rip out his own skin.

"My terror," Master hisses, "can you travel?"

If I say 'no,' I daresay Snape will die. I gaze steadily at him even though I need the wall for support. "Yesss."

"Very well." He releases Snape from the magical choke "Get out of my sight."

Snape quickly gets to his feet and walks out rapidly, almost at a run. It's as undignified as I've ever seen him. I suppress a smile and my eyes drift back to my Master. I can see a familiar glint in his red eyes. He's reading me.

"Pettigrew," he snaps, "get the horses ready."

I didn't even notice the rat is slinking in the shadowed corners. It's not something I would miss if I were in good health. I definitely reacted badly to the potion, but I don't know why.

"Harry," Master hisses when Pettigrew leaves, "I know where the Philosopher's Stone is."

I feel sick. Rebirth and immortality. All his.

"Your little lark told me," he whispers into my ear, his lips pressing against my skin. "If she hadn't such good news, I would have ripped her heart out and eaten it. Hmm? Would you have liked to taste her tender flesh?"

"No…"

He leans down and bites my throat, tearing into my flesh. The blood drips down, soaking into my clothes. "I should punish you, but you'll be of no use to me on the trip if I do. As it is… you are incapacitated."

I know not to say another word.

"If you don't listen to me, I will make her death a certainty."

I lower my eyes and sink to my knees. My acquiescence.

"Where are we going?" I ask, numb in the saddle.

"To Southlands," Master responds.

"Where the stone is…"

"Yesss."

"Who has it?" I inquire.

Master turns to me and smiles. Quirrell's face. It's unnatural, unlike the soft-spoken man. The face has yet to decay, but the eyes are already sinking in and the lines are beginning to form. Quirrell's body isn't young enough to handle the immense power. It won't be long before it begins to break. But there are weeks, maybe even months. Quirrell was a decent wizard.

"Dumbledore."

I flinch at the name. "Are you certain?"

"That's what your little lark seems to think," Master remarks in a fairly pleasant voice. I tense when I hear it. Whenever he sounds like that, it never leads to anything good. "I do hope she's not wrong. I would hate to drain her life source. It's too bad she's not a man. Untutored as she is, she had mastered her magic in her healing arts."

I freeze. How does he know?

I feel his hand caress my cheek. "My sweet torment, I know everything."

Swallowing hard, I press my face against Lonan's neck.

"You hope she won't die," he hisses. "You hope I will leave her alone."

"You said you would," I respond with foolish bravery. "If I obeyed."

"And if she isn't wrong."

My stomach turns. Hermione is almost never wrong, but there are times when she is. There are times when she overestimates her ability and if she has here, it could cost her everything. Just thinking about the way she could die makes my stomach heave. But there's nothing to expunge.

"You worry for her," he says sibilantly. "You care for her."

I know what he wants answered. I can feel the question clawing at my mind. "A friend," I answer hoarsely. "Nothing more."

He's close to me, like his lips are brushing against my cheek. Of course, I can see him on his black mare several strides in front. He's using a magic touch. It whispers like the wind and I shudder.

"You cannot lie to me."

But I'm not lying! I shove my mind forward and push my thoughts at him. He recoils for a moment, but then takes and takes. He seizes every memory I shove at him and digs further. He claws at my mind, at my soul and I let him. He must see what she is. She's nothing more than a friend.

"You love her," he murmurs with a deadly calm. "How dangerous."

I tremble and try to gather my thoughts together, but they are open and I cannot stop him from the continuous invasion. I let him in and I shouldn't have. He captures everything and there's nothing he doesn't know.

"You hate me," he whispers. "You fear me."

I cling to Lonan's mane.

"And you love me."

TBC

A/N: This was a tad brutal, but then Voldemort isn't a nice person. Reviews would be super nice and more reviews tend to nudge a story along faster since it makes my muse happy. Anyway I can't wait for HBP. Anyway in the Houston area?

Thanks to Iskjif (rushing is bad, I agree), amy, scr, Julie Long, Thee-Unknown-Factor (you'll find out), CuriousDreamWeaver, MirrorWakes (good job), ina (Harry's age hasn't changed since the chapter 1, he was about 6/7 in the prologue), Shattered Diamond, chocolatedemon, HoshiHikari, Eaiva le Fay (Most people seem to be advocating HP/LV, as to the pairing, I'm not sure. HP/LV is the pairing I do most other than Snarry), Toki Mirage, Lothirielwen, Spideria (Oh yes, I love terrifying stuff. This chapter's pretty gory.)

If you want to chat (about the fic) or squeal (about HBP), my aim's sevviepooh.