Ch. 4

Hermione sat on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest as her chin rested atop them. She sighed and tried to keep her mind away from this place; this room.

Just as she began to slip into a sort of numbed state of mind, the door burst open, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. Bellatrix drove in and grabbed Hermione by the hair once more; her scalp screaming in protest, having not completely healing from the previous abuse.

"Hello there, Mudblood. It's been a while." She grinned down at Hermione, her eyes crazed as usual and her hair askew. "My master requires you once more. Such a shame though," Bellatrix ran her long nail down Hermione's face and over her collarbone, "I'd like to play with you again."

Hermione looked up at Bellatrix and almost came back with a retort, but stopped herself short and bit her tongue. Bellatrix dragged her out of the room and instead of going down the staircase this time; Hermione was being led up multiple flights of stairs.

Soon, Bellatrix stopped at a door and without even knocking a deep voice called from it. "Come in." That voice sent chills through Hermione's body, but the same voice set a smile upon Bellatrix's thin cracked lips. With his command, Bellatrix opened the splintered wooden door and dragged her in, shoving her to the ground.

Hermione looked up, her hair hanging in her face and saw before her, the man that had been in her room the day before. He sat in a wooden chair and nodded at Bellatrix and with a quiet yet cold voice he said, "You can go now." She looked disappointed, but didn't argue. Bellatrix bowed respectfully to him and backed out of the room, glaring at the girl that she had thrown into the wolf's den.

Voldemort eyed down at her and pulled his wand out. "Now… It's respectful to stand and greet your caretaker." He flicked his wand at her as her body thrust into the air, her toes barely touching the floor. With a cold sneer, he looked her up and down. "That's better. Now. Miss – Granger was it? Yes. Miss Granger, are you going to help me out?"

Hermione struggled to keep her toes on the ground and hated the way his icy chuckles rang off of the walls. She watched helplessly as he stood up and glided over to her like a shadow. He was disgusting. His sickly grey skin decorated with feint blue veins and long dirty fingernails attached to long boney fingers, curled around his wand that pointed at her.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him in disgust. "I'll never help you…" She hissed and struggled to breath, as the charm that held her up seemed to grow tightly around her neck.

Voldemort sneered at her and shook his head. "I don't think you understand, filth. You don't have a choice, and the sooner you understand this, the longer you will live."

She growled at him and spit in his direction, only nearly missing him where he stood. Suddenly, the charm grew even tighter and her vision began to flicker in and out.

Finally, after gasping and clawing at her neck to breath, Voldemort lowered his wand, which sent Hermione's body into a limp pile on the floor. Chuckling, Voldemort walked over to her and kneeled down, taking her face in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "You will learn. You disgusting Mudblood." His voice was chilly and quiet as his crimson eyes pierced into her, making her body shiver.

"I will do no such thing. I'd rather die then betray my friends. You've got the wrong person for this job, because I will tell you nothing." She panted in between every few words, her neck slightly throbbing.

Voldemort jerked her head back, baring her neck and ran a long fingernail down the pale thin skin. "Such a pity." He said quietly, almost to himself. "That such filthy blood inhabits this body." Shaking his head, he let go of her, thrusting her to the ground as her head hit the wooden floor with a thud. She sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut trying to numb the pain, which did quickly subside.

Voldemort walked away from her crumpled body and smirked to himself; reeling over things he could do to her to possibly break her. He quivered lightly with the thoughts and turned back to face her, his eyes raking over her body. "Stand up." He commanded, and when Hermione did not, he flicked his wand at her. "I said, stand up!" Her body quickly jolting her up onto her feet and a pained groan escaped her lips.

"That's better." His lips curved up in a twisted sort of smile. "Now. Come closer." As he said this, the tips of her toes slid against the ground as her body floated towards him.

Hermione felt the presser around her neck slack and then release as she fell back to the ground. "Now, Filth. Am I going to have to force the information out of you, or are you going to go along nicely?" Voldemort glowered down at her, his gaze as sharp as that of a snake eyeing it's prey, and Hermione knew the situation was just that, a snake and his prey.

"I will never give in to you! You don't scare me!" She spat at him and stumbled to her feet, her body trembling slightly.

Voldemort shook his head slowly, and made a soft clucking noise with his tongue. "Soon you will learn you filthy mudblood, that bravery will get you no where. Only dead. I suppose… That I shall have to break you." His lips slowly curved into a sinister smile as he eyed her body. "Excellent."

Hermione shivered at the way he looked at her, giving her goose bumps. What did he intend to do? What did he mean by break her? Her body shook slightly from the thoughts that passed through her mind. Bellatrix had been bad, but Voldemort, he was worse. Much worse.

Voldemort flicked his wand and Hermione sprung up once more and hit the wall. She slid across it until she fell onto the large oak desk. She gasped for air and held her ribs as she looked over towards the tall, lean, shadowy figure. Her eyes were still determined to fight through this and Voldemort was just as determined to watch that Gryffindor spirit break.

He glided over to her and ran the tip of his wand over her arm. Slowly, a sharp pain began to slice through her arm from where it had touched her, blood oozing from the gash. She knew he was toying with her right now. He knew that she could withstand such childish torture, but he was going to enjoy this. She felt like the butterfly that a child slowly tore apart its appendages.

"It looks normal enough. Doesn't look dirty at all." He smirked as he ran a cold white finger over the gash, smearing her blood over her arm as it dripped to the floor. "But we both know that's just a lie. Don't we, Filth?"

Hermione lay quietly on the desk as he cut into her. She was determined to not make a sound, for it would only give him satisfaction. She knew that if she cried or whimpered he would feel a sense of accomplishment, and she wasn't going to give him such encouragement.

If she stayed quiet long enough, maybe he would grow tired and kill her. She could only hope for mercy.

Voldemort leaned in and smelled her hair, which smelled richly of campfire and forest. So they had been camping? That was indeed a start, but not much of a lead at all. As much as he enjoyed his wand, he felt as if he would enjoy this better with the real thing. He flicked his wand again as a large dagger sailed its way across the room to his hand.

He grasped it and smiled down at her. "Now, filth. Beg. Beg for your life. I want to hear you scream." He chuckled a dark throaty laugh and grabbed her hair as Hermione's glossy eyes stared into space. She refused to give in to him. She wouldn't do it. She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

He ran the dagger over her dirty shirt and could hear as the fabric began to tare from the sharpness of the blade. Voldemort burred his face into the crook of her neck and breathed in as her rich womanly scent that filled his senses and quickly he became infuriated. How dare she!

He bit into her skin and heard as Hermione let out a soft gasp. She closed her mouth and shivered, trying to not make a sound. She wouldn't let him win.

Voldemort's eyes flashed with anger and suddenly, he felt like destroying her. He felt like destroying something beautiful, and he had just that. He ran the blade down her toned belly, applying more pressure than before as long crimson ribbons decorated the pale skin and puddled on the desk. She hissed softly from the pain, but tried to stare off into space, ignoring the searing hot pain.

Suddenly and without warning, he grabbed her pants roughly and yanked them off, causing her to gasp loudly and try to retreat, sliding back a bit on the desk, but his grip on her was too strong for her weakened state. "Wh-What are you doing?" She stammered, her eyes finally glossed over with fear.

"Ah. So she finally speaks." Voldemort chuckled deep within his throat and threw her pants across the room. "I told you. I will have you begging for mercy. I want to hear you scream." He ran a finger down her cheek, admiring her beauty for a very short moment, which confused him and irritated him. His hand that lay upon her cheek reeled back and slapped her across the face with such force that she was thrown back against the desk. Hermione whimpered and pushed herself back up into a slouched, sitting position.

Voldemort smirked and ran a hand over her exposed stomach, the deep red pools of blood looking even more extravagant against the contrast of her skin as he smeared it along her body, his hand slipping further and further. He watched delightedly as her face was quickly over taken with fear. His other hand roughly grabbed her left breast, his long nails biting into the tender flesh and she let out a scream. "Get off me!" She cried, tears threatening to spill over. "Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Oh. But it is you who is the filthy one. You should be honoured to be touched by anyone at all." He growled at her and leaned over her body as his other hand grabbed in between her legs. "You should be thanking me."

Hermione tried to back away, but his hold on her was too strong. She wondered why he didn't just bind her down with a spell, but quickly realized that he must enjoy her attempts to flee. He was the very definition of a predator and he was toying with her just as a cat did a mouse before he killed it.

As he leaned over her, his hands in the most private of areas, he looked into her fear filled eyes and for a very brief moment, he felt pain himself and wanted to heal her and just leave her be for now, but that too passed. He would make her scream and cry and he would enjoy it. He would enjoy every whimper that passed her lips and every tear that rolled down her cheek. He didn't understand why those fleeting emotions he had stirred inside him. He didn't understand them at all. They made no sense to his emotionless heart. Out of anger and irritation, he grabbed the dagger and plunged it in between her thighs, which earned him the most pleasing and blood curtailing scream he had ever heard.

Hermione screamed and screamed and screamed until finally her voice cracked and nothing would come out. She couldn't breath and couldn't catch her breath all the same time. What had he done? Why? Why did he do such a thing? Because he was cruel. Because he was heartless.

Suddenly, he leaned back over her and kissed her roughly and deeply, his cold lips encasing hers. He had heard enough of her screaming and decided that he was done with her for now. He got off of her and slowly turned away, leaving her bleeding and in pain on his desk for a moment before waving his wand and healing all of her wounds. He didn't want to scar such a beautiful body.

With that, he left the room. Leaving her lying on the table, sore and in pain.