Intoxication

"Even drunk,

I am caught off guard

By the way I remain

Intoxicated by you."

- B.P.

Chapter 4: Bloody Ends

Voldemort's long, pale finger tapping against the dark oak table was the only sound that filled the room. Gone was the old, decrepit man. Gone was the wizard that was falling apart. Gone was the man who hid himself in a cloak to hide his aging.

He was young again. He was handsome again. He was brimming with power again.

He was transformed.

The over-sized cloak that donned his fragile frame the last few years had been traded in for a sharp, well-tailored black suit. The only color on the suit he allowed was a green snake tie pin.

He felt remarkable. He felt healthy. His plan far exceeded any expectations he had ever had. He would never admit this to any of his followers around him, but he truthfully wasn't sure what was going to happen when he went into that cauldron with his horcruxes. If they would just prolong his life a little longer, if they would just meld with his soul again, or if it wouldn't have worked at all.

Instead…

They rewound him. They reversed the clock and gave him a fresh start.

Voldemort looked in the mirror and Tom Riddle looked back.

The newly found power that surged through him felt like lightning cracking through his veins. He felt like if he jumped off of the ground he would leave a crater in it. He could feel the dark magic pulsating off of him like a magnet. He felt drunk with magic and craved an outlet to release it all on.

As he felt the power in him building, the impatience mounting, his finger tapped faster. The need for violence and chaos radiating in him begging to be unleashed.

"My lord…", Bellatrix said quietly. Voldemort's black eyes were the only thing to turn to look at her as his pupils slid to the edge of his eyes.

"You gathered us?" she reminded him, implying that it was for a reason.

The more he continued to pin her with a stare, the more he could feel the uneasiness of the room. People started shifting in their chairs, looking around anxiously, breaths started getting heavier.

It was delicious.

"Does anyone have any pressing issues they need to attend to that I am keeping them from?" he asked the table, his black eyes scanning the table. The immediate 'No's' 'Of course not my lord!' Erupted from everyone around him.

Pathetic sheep.

Sighing deeply, he pressed his palms onto the table and stood, leaning on his hands.

"As you can see", he stood and opened his arms to display himself," I am clearly no longer who I was. I have transcended."

The Death Eaters nodded, the shock in their eyes still evident.

He stood straight, dignified, with his shoulders squared back as he clasped his hands behind his back and started to slowly walk around the perimeter of the table.

"I feel as the years have gone by, some of you have started to doubt your faith in me", he told them, his voice remarkably calm," And who can blame you right?"

Heads turned to the side, watching him with extreme caution as his dark, looming figure circled them like a shark circling its prey.

"I was hiding from the public a lot more, I wasn't able to preform my best", he listed off," I mean, hell, I'm sure some of you have thought 'Dear Merlin, Voldemort is losing it…'"

"We've been at this war for years and we're still not any closer to the end. What is his plan? Does he plan on killing the Potter kid once and for all?"

He reached his seat again and faced his subjects whose faces were a mix of concern and curiosity about where he was going with his tangent.

"And it's okay", he smiled at the table and held out his hands," I completely understand where these thoughts would come from. I mean, I was a mess, right?"

Voldemort started laughing, dissipating the tension that was building in the room. One by one his Death Eater's shoulders started relaxing, their faces smiling with him as they looked at each other. Bellatrix was beaming at Voldemort and others were nodding and laughing lightly. The only three who refrained from laughing, keeping their rigid posture, were the three youngest Slytherins at the table: Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy.

And for good reason…

In the span of a second, Voldemort's smile fell, and his eyes flashed to red as he hissed," Incarcerous." Ropes shot up tightening around everyone's wrists, except the three Slytherins that sat in a row. They watched with amusement as their colleagues started panicking and pulling at their arms.

"My Lord!" Bellatrix cried out but was silenced by the snarl in Voldemort's lip and his eyes so red they looked like they were bleeding.

"How fucking dare, you", he growled at her and then turned to the table yelling," How dare all of you!"

"I am your salvation!" He told them, fury dripping from every word," Have I not provided everything you have ever needed? Have I not provided you all with a home? With power? With the promise of a better future?"

Heads quickly started shaking yes and cries of devotion rang around him. Voldemort flew onto the table and walked down its length, breaking glasses and plates with each step.

"Never forget!" Shattering glass echoing back," I am all you have. I am never to be doubted. See the magic I have done and tell me that I am not a God?"

He stopped in front of the three Slytherins and gestured to them," My most young, loyal followers… Look at them and take heed."

"They brought me my salvation", he told the room," And for that, they are being handsomely rewarded. Gentlemen, if you would join me in my private quarters later?"

"It would be an honor, my Lord", Draco answered for them, and they bowed their heads.

"You three may be excused", he smiled sardonically at them," I would hate for you to bear witness to what I am going to do next."

The three stood quickly and swiftly exited, not looking back and not feeling bad about what was about to happen.

Voldemort turned to the remaining Death Eaters before him that included the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband, Antonin Dolohov, Avery, Rosier, Peter Pettigrew, the Carrow twins, Yaxley, and Barty Crouch Jr and watched as they struggled, some breaking down in tears as they begged for mercy.

Voldemort walked slowly back to the end of the table, using his chair as a step to meet the floor. Turning to his followers, he smiled sadistically, crimson leaking from his eyes.

"It's nothing personal", he told them," It's just business and to remind you that I'm the fucking boss."

With a flourish of his wand, he softly said," Crutio."

Tormented cries rang through the halls.

Fuckers…

Voldemort entered his quarters and slammed the doors shut behind him.

The fuckers!

Mindless followers that acted loyal to his face and then prayed for his downfall behind his back. Had he not given them everything? Had he not always lived up to his promises? None of them helped him when he was falling apart and frail. None of them offered their assistance or went out of their way to look for his horcruxes. As much as he was grateful to the Nott boy, even his loyalty only went so far.

No loyalty. None! Not from fucking any of them. He could taste their untrustworthiness like poison. He could feel himself closer to victory than ever before. He was young again. Powerful, all foreboding and unforgiving. But who among his lemmings would have the conviction, the ruthlessness, the depravity, to see his victory to the end? His followers were weak, and he hated them for it. They had grown soft and fragile while his focus was on himself. They had grown comfortable and lazy.

He loosened his tie angerly with one hand as he walked over to his bar to pour himself a drink. Walking past a mirror, he stopped and admired himself as he swirled the amber liquid.

Damn, I look good he smirked at himself. He had forgotten how handsome he was in his youth, having gotten used to barely getting by, having to attach himself to far inferior bodies like that Professor Squirrel. He rolled his eyes and shuddered at the memory of being attached to that oaf.

Sitting down, his black eyes gazed longingly at the fire blazing in front of him. Longing for his win, longing for death to fall like stars around him, and as he watched the flames lick and dance around each other, he envisioned the world burning before him. With so much magic and chaos brimming in him, he could already feel himself getting tired. Pinching between his eyes, he frowned deeply.

This was his catch.

This was the punishment his horcruxes had cast upon him.

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew there had to be a catch to him having his youth again.

He needed to maintain it.

And the only way to do that was by sacrifice.

A blood sacrifice.

A muggleborn blood sacrifice.

The girl…

His frown deepened as he watched the flames flicker around each other, the only sound in the room was the wood crackling. He wanted to be rid of her. He wanted to just kill her and be done with it. He knew what everyone was thinking. He was keeping her because she is best friends with the Potter kid, and he could use her as leverage.

He didn't care about that.

Whether Potter came for her or not.

She had become a thorn in Voldemort's side.

He couldn't explain it, but he could still feel what she felt like.

He could still feel what her heartbeat felt like against his soul. He could still feel what it was like when she started having panic attacks. All those months wearing his soul around her neck, calling the fragments of his soul hers.

And now… He was stuck with her. He had no idea how long he had to use her blood. If it was only for a little bit until he became more stronger or if it was a forever thing. He was also unsure if it always needed to be her blood now since hers was the one used in the initial sacrifice or if it could be any muggleborns. Merlin, he prayed for the latter.

But he knew he needed her blood soon. It had only been almost two days, and he was already feeling drained. Would he go back to who he was, or would he just get weakened?

Either way, he didn't want to find out.

Tap, tap, tap.

"Come in", Voldemort loudly said and waved the doors open. In walked Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy.

"Gentlemen, come in, please", Voldemort set down his glass and stood, waving the three over to his sitting area.

"My Lord", Draco said and bowed his head," It's honor to be hosted by you this evening."

"Please, please", he waved his hand and sat down," The honor is mine."

The three sat, Nott in the chair across from Voldemort, and Blaise and Draco sharing the couch between them. Voldemort waved his hand, and three glasses floated towards them, all half filled with the same amber liquid he was already drinking.

"A toast", Voldemort raised his glass," To our youth."

"To our youth", they said in unison and swigged back a gulp.

"I could never thank you three enough", he told them," For bringing back what was rightfully mine." Not hers…

"It was our pleasure", Nott told him," Besides, it was entertaining to get them."

"Tell me!" Voldemort smiled sharply at him," Regale me with your successful tale."

He could feel the uneasiness of the three young men around him and couldn't fault them for it. He admired their tenacity to still have a drink with him and accept his invitation knowing how volatile he could be. Not like they'd ever say no to me…

"Well, we heard word of where Potter was hiding with the bumbling Order and that they may have your horcruxes, so we laid a trap", Nott explained. "It was really quite easy… You know how Gryffindor's area: act first, think never. As soon as they saw me loitering in their area, posing like I was searching for something, they immediately captured me."

Voldemort smirked and shook his head at Nott's story. "They really are all quite unintelligent aren't they? They didn't suspect anything?"

"Not a thing", Zabini snickered, taking a sip from his glass," Nott wasn't even in there for more than 3 days."

Voldemort laughed lightly along with the three gentlemen around him and it dawned on him that they were more of his peers at this point. He was significantly younger than most of his followers now, and he was much younger than most of those he had in his inner circle up until this point. He wasn't entirely sure what age his horcruxes had reversed him back to, but he didn't feel much older than 25.

"To the Order being completely daft, even years after being in the business", Malfoy smirked and raised his glass. Theodore and Blaise raised their glasses, and Voldemort decided to join in their comradery and drank. Silence hung in the air afterwards as the sound of the crackling fire filled in the blanks. Voldemort's black eyes scanned as he looked over the aristocratic presence of the three gentlemen before him. Malfoy held himself with a dignity that couldn't be taught, like his grandfather before him. He reeked of pureblood righteousness, a scent that Voldemort loathed in his childhood and sought to control. As his black eyes slid to observe Nott and Zabini, he couldn't help but notice the same air about them. Although Malfoy's attitude came from generations of looking down their straight, perfect noses, Nott and Zabini seemed, in their own right, to hold their own.

As he continued slyly watch the men around him, gears in Voldemort's head started turning rapidly.

Could I?

Should I?

A reworking of his entire inner circle.

Out with the old, the decrepit, the lazy and in with the young and ruthless. The three before him went out of their way and achieved for him something that was immeasurable, without even being asked.

That was the tenacity he was needing. He could see the three of them helping lead him to victory and if anyone had a problem with it, he would simply kill them.

Voldemort slowly stood, walking towards the front of the fireplace, pausing in front of it, swirling his glass in his hand.

"Gentlemen, I have a proposition for you."

"What is it, my Lord?" Malfoy asked.

Turning away from the fireplace to face them, they looked focused. Enticed by what he was about to say.

"As you can see, I am no longer myself", Voldemort gestured to his entire being. "I am enhanced."

The three nodded.

"And with my body and my mind being enhanced," he continued," Everything needs to be enhanced."

"I completely agree, sir", Nott nodded and the other two agreed.

Voldemort smiled, but so rarely did it meet his eyes. "I knew you would."

"I have outgrown those I have held close to me, those I have trusted up until now. Or perhaps they have outgrown me. They are old, stuck in their ways. Too long they have let things slide, too long they have let things fall through the cracks. I want, no- I need your youth gentlemen."

"I need your tenacity, your drive, your evil prowess." Voldemort looked into the eyes of each Slytherin, making sure they understood the severity of what he was saying.

"Do you understand?"

Silence at first. He could see their thoughts spinning in their heads as they all processed what he had told them, making sure they understood what he was implying. Malfoy was the first to speak.

"Of course, my Lord", he nodded, nothing but seriousness on his face," You want us to purge."

Voldemort, for the first time in a long time, felt the pleasure of being understood.

"Exactly", his dark eyes glittered," That is exactly what I want. I want you to purge everything."

Everything… The word kept echoing in his mind.

"The Death Eaters, the lazy cohorts we have developed, the Order, everything. I want nothing left unscathed by your three's touch."

Chaos and violence were vibrating at the near surface of his skin, begging for a way out. He wanted everyone to feel his wrath, feel the magnitude of what he was now capable of and with these three at his beck and call, he felt like death reborn.

"A drink, once more!" Voldemort announced, raising his glass as he took his seat again," To us purging our home and massacring those Order fools."

Drinks and the setting down of glass replied to him as peace settled in what was left of his recently stitched together soul. He already felt better at the prospect of things starting to change around him to his will. He wouldn't mess this up a third time.

The minutes ticked by.

"You know…"

Nott's voice broke the silence, capturing the attention of the room.

"They aren't all fools", he commented, his eyes cast towards the floor, his lips quirked to the side.

"What are you referring to?" Malfoy asked before Voldemort could. An air of caution now threatening his newly discovered peace.

Where is he going with this?

"The Order", Nott's eyes met his school friend's. "They aren't all fools."

And he quickly looked towards Voldemort in a panic. "Not to disrespect you, my Lord. It was just a thought I had."

Voldemort pinned the boy with his black, onyx eyes and decided that the Nott boy was fine for now. His curiosity of where the boy was going was too piqued.

"Please", he held up his hand as if to say 'continue'. "Do go on."

Again, Nott lowered his eyes, but this time looked at the fire. "The Granger girl… The mudblood. I don't think she's a fool."

Shock wracked Voldemort's young body as his eyes went wide with surprise. Of all the things Nott could have said, he was certainly not expecting that.

"Pray tell, why do you say that?" Voldemort asked nonchalantly.

"I've seen her", Nott explained, meeting Voldemort's eyes. "I've seen how ruthless she can be. How intuitive she is. She kills without a second thought. It honestly surprised me."

Zabini laughed. "I still refuse to believe that the Golden Girl is a killer like you've said. There is no way Potter would have her in the Order if that was the case."

"I'm telling you I've seen it!" Nott insisted, his voice rising slightly. "Why would I make something like that up? The witch held me at wand point for Merlin's sake. The kid you guys sent with me as a cover?"

"Teo? What about him?" Malfoy asked.

"She killed him without a second thought! As soon as I told her he was useless to us, she completely blew him to smithereens. Boy pleaded for mercy too. It was pathetic, really, but he still did, and she just-"

Nott didn't finish his sentence. Just shook his head, his mouth set in a line. Voldemort found their interaction very interesting. Seldomly he was able to be a fly on the wall during conversations. It was very entertaining. They seemed to know the girl a lot more than just meeting her the once at being captured.

"Do you three happen to know her?" Voldemort inquired, crossing his legs. "Before being on opposing sides that is."

Malfoy immediately rolled his eyes and grunted with displeasure. "Yes, unfortunately. She was in our year. Insufferable hag."

Insufferable? I don't remember her feeling insufferable…

"How so?"

"She was a classic Know-It-All", Nott shrugged, picking up his glass to take another drink," Malfoy here is just sore about always being second to her in every class." Nott and Zabini laughed at their friend who turned the shade of blood red. Voldemort's lips pulled to the side as he found the boy's humiliation amusing.

"Second to a mudblood?" Voldemort commented and Malfoy's face, if possible, got even redder. "I'm sure your father loved that."

Rolling his eyes a second time, he leaned back exasperated. "Please, I never heard the fucking end of it. It wasn't my fault though! She's a freak of nature, I'm convinced."

"Besides you, my Lord, I don't think I've ever met or heard of someone who knows so much", Malfoy admitted to the room. "It's bloody weird. Maybe she's cursed or something."

"Maybe", Voldemort nodded and looked towards the fire still burning, placing his head against his hand, his index finger pressed against his temple.

The girl was clearly not just a thorn in his side, but everyone's side. The patchwork memories that his horcruxes provided only gave him so much to go off of. He was still working out all of the emotions and memories that came with it, but up until this point, he definitely didn't remember the violence that Nott had told them about just now. He was sure he would remember something like that.

I need her blood.

"Well, gentlemen…" He addressed the room and stood, buttoning his jacket and retightening his tie. "This has been an absolute pleasure, and I look forward to working with the three of you starting tomorrow morning, but if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

"Of course", Malfoy stood. "Let us know if you need anything, my Lord."

The three gave a small bow but Voldemort stopped Nott by his shoulder with a firm grip.

"I will be checking on our newest prisoner tonight", Voldemort informed him. "Please make sure we are not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

Nott's eyes went wide at Voldemort's large, pale hand being placed heavily on his shoulder and met his black eyes that were boring into him.

"Yes", he nodded quickly. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything else."

Just muggleborn blood…

Hermione breathed deeply in and back out as she sat with her legs crossed on the cold, wet stone floor. The hay in the corner did fuck all to keep her bum dry as she tried to meditate to get her thoughts together.

It had been an entire day and a half, and she was still not any closer to escaping or finding a way out or even having a weapon to defend herself with. She went over every scenario in her head of why they would still be keeping her and the most logical options she had come up with were:

Luring Harry to rescue her and laying a trap to capture and kill him

To torture her for fun before killing her

To torture her to get information out of her

All of the above

None of the options felt mutually exclusive and realized it could be all of those things, and that it most likely what was going to happen. It was only a matter of time before they came down here to begin.

As she inhaled deeply again, this inhalation felt different. Hair stood on the back of her neck and the room felt noticeably colder. Squinting her right eye open a crack, she saw black shoes in her line of sight. Quickly clamping her eye shut, she hoped maybe it was a figment of her imagination from finally losing her mind.

But luck was never on her side.

"Are you hoping that if you can't see me, I can't see you?" She heard that fucking familiar voice ask. The last time she heard it, she passed out and when she woke up, she was alone in the cell. How horrifically haunting it felt to hear that voice she coveted and felt so safe with to be used against her in the real world.

"If I was, would you say it's working?" Hermione snipped as she continued to keep her eyes closed.

She heard the voice expel air loudly as a gust of laugh before responding. "I would say it isn't since we're conversing."

Opening her dry, bloodshot brown eyes, she looked up and glared at the perfectly sculpted face looking down at her with a damn smirk, his black eyes shining brightly. Instead of the dark cloak she saw him in yesterday, he was now wearing a black suit with a green serpent on his tie.

Typical…

"You're looking pretty sharp for a disembodied voice", Hermione seethed, anger dripping from her voice. It only seemed to please him as he flashed his canines.

"Dress for the job you want, they say", he held out his arms wide as if to say, 'Look at me!'

Hermione sneered. "I've never known who 'they' are, but the tie clip is a little cliché."

"I think a serpent fits me just fine. Surely, you must have figured out who I am by now", he gleamed at her, his black eyes twinkling with darkness," I have been told you're quite bright, but maybe that's all talk."

Hermione's face pinched with fury as she jumped to her feet. He was still several feet away but even with the space between them she could tell he was quite taller than her. He looked the same as yesterday but also different.

Confidence.

He held himself with an air of confidence and smugness today that was missing from yesterday, and based on his expression, he was having fun messing with her. Yesterday he was cruel, vicious. He looked like a demon with red eyes, his voice held nothing but malice. He enjoyed the betrayal and shock on her face yesterday. Because he knew that she knew what his voice meant to her. Was he her confidant all this time? How did he even get the voice back? Was he projecting it into her mind to lure her here or was it something else? Something deeper and darker that she might not dare to figure out.

"I don't have to be in your mind right now to know that there are about a hundred questions firing through your head", he sneered at her. Like he knew her so well.

"Only thinking of all the ways to kill you all", Hermione smiled sadistically. She was sure she looked wild at this point having not showered or changed her clothes in… How many days? Two? The stark contrast between the two didn't escape her. His polished veneer serpent versus the wild, unmanageable lioness.

He took a long stride forward and scoffed as Hermione took a step back.

"Who are you?" Hermione finally asked boldly," What do you want with me?"

"You really don't know?" He quirked an eyebrow and flashed his teeth at her.

Silence was his response as Hermione turned her head slightly to the side and eyed the man suspiciously. The magic rolling off of him felt dense and thick with darkness. He made the room cold just by standing in it. She felt like she could see dark magic vibrating underneath his skin like its own layer.

He took another step forward and from his gait, he was now only about a foot away from her. From this distance his height was realized to Hermione. His chin didn't even reach the top of her head. Tilting her head to look up at him, she pressed herself into the bars behind her.

"Invading my space isn't going to make me guess", Hermione bit out, desperate to put space between them and the onslaught of cold, dark magic that was washing over her.

All amusement left his face as his top lip curved over his teeth as he snarled," Let me give you a hint…"

Red.

The bloodiest, red eyes she had ever seen glared at her.

His red eyes.

"No", Hermione moaned as tears prickled her eyes, dread filling her heart.

It couldn't be…

It just couldn't be…

He was her voice? He was her safe space, her confidant, her companion? He was the one that spoke out the truths she needed to her and helped her off of the edge she approached so many times?

He stepped forward with an outstretched hand and gripped her throat in one grip, clenching his fist tight around it, pressing her into the bars hard. Hermione gasped and reached up with her hands to try to grip at his fingers to let go.

Leaning his face closer to hers, he hissed, "Say who I am. Out. Loud."

Red eyes are all that she saw as she tears fell from her face onto his pale, cold hand that refused to give her any leverage. Her toes were scraping the stone floor as she continued to wriggle in his grasp, whimpering as he kept tightening his hand.

"Say it!" he yelled and pulled her forward to slam her into the bars. Her head smacked against the metal hard, a sharp pain spiking through her head causing her eyes to roll back.

"Don't make me ask again!"

"Voldemort!" she openly cried. She could feel blood dripping down the back of her head as his grip loosened. But only slightly.

"You're Voldemort", she met his red gaze with her watery one. "You've always been Voldemort. Haven't you?"

"Yes." He stated and lowered her feet to the ground, not releasing her neck but loosening it to where she could breathe. "I have always been Voldemort."

Hermione searched this young, albeit handsome, face in front of her and could not discern how this man could be that hallowed out waif of a creature. How could this have happened? It had to be the horcruxes. Her horcruxes.

"Why?" She cried. "Why did you do this to me? Why were you in my head?"

"Because…"

He pulled her close to him, almost touching chests but not quite as he leaned down to her ear and whispered," I need you."

With that confession he pushed her back hard and gripped her wrist tightly, twisting his body so his back was to her as he held her left arm in a vice grip.

Fuck if he's Voldemort!

She started pushing on his back and pulling her arm as hard she could when she saw him conjure a blade in his right hand high in the air.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Hermione yelled out as she pulled harder, pounding on his back with the little bit of strength she had.

But it proved to be futile.

The action was slow.

Deliberate.

He brought the blade down and as the tip of it bit into her fleshy palm, she felt him drag it across her flesh leaving a trail of burning wetness behind it.

Hermione screamed as he continued to drag it up, feeling the blood flowing out of her skin. She thought she heard him mutter something about it going faster if she allowed it, but it was hard to tell over her screaming and fighting. Pounding on his back didn't seem to be working and in one last ditch effort, she jumped up and raised her right arm to go around his neck, trapping it in the crook of her elbow. Gripping his left shoulder, she pulled back hard and sent them both flying backwards, with him landing on top of her as her back hit the ground with a hard smack. Air knocked out of her as he tried to pry her arm off, but she was able to raise her left arm and grip it tightly, tightening the hold around his neck as her left hand went behind his head, her legs circling his waist and locking at the ankles.

Her blood was covering his skin and suit as it pooled onto her, but she kept tightening her grip.

She could feel his pulse thudding rapidly against her arms as she continued to wrap herself around him and felt his breath coming fast and harsh.

"You do not get to take more from me than you already have", she hissed through clenched teeth into his ear that was right against her lips.

"I take whatever I want whenever I want", he choked out," I am a God."

Darkness.

Darkness coated the room, her vision, everything.

She could still feel her grip around him as he wrangled in her grasp, but she refused to let go. As she tightened her body even more, she felt it then. His dark magic started to wrap itself around her like a serpent. Around her arms, her legs, her neck, her entire body and started to pull at her.

"No!" She grit out as she tried to fight against it and tightened herself to him even more. But the more she fought against it, the more it pulled on her hard. So hard that she felt like her bones were going to crack. The tendrils continued to pull until he had enough leverage, and she felt him slip out. Yelling in frustration against his magic, she felt it continue to pull on her as it pulled her arms and legs flat against the floor, splaying her like she was on a cross.

"No!" Hermione roared out as she continued to fight against it. The darkness disappeared as Voldemort loomed over her, wrath and anger emanating off of him. The redness of his eyes matched her now smeared blood that coated his skin like paint.

"I was going to show mercy", he growled out, his red eyes flashing brightly. Now he looked like the cruel animal she had known Voldemort to be.

"I was going against my better judgement and thought, 'Let's show the mudblood mercy.' But more fool on me."

He crouched down and smiled sadistically at her as he watched her struggle. His teeth were even stained red.

"I thought since I'm going to be needing you for an undecided amount of time, I thought maybe I'd go easy on you", he told her.

Need me?

Panic set in further as he summoned the blade into his hand again and she watched with horror as he stuck in his palm and dragged it up his skin like he had done to her. Blood ribboned onto his pale skin.

"But you reminded me what muggleborns are", he watched his blood drop onto the floor. "Animals. And if you're going to act like an animal, my little lion, I'm going to gut you like an animal."

Turning his black, hallow eyes onto her, his face was grim as he kneeled over her and grabbed her still bleeding arm with his nonbleeding hand.

"I'm not sure if this will hurt", he told her as he held his bleeding hand next to hers," But I suppose we'll find out."

In the most unexpected turn of events, he clasped his blood covered hand into hers and intertwined their fingers.

Searing.

Searing, white-hot pain coursed through her as her back curved against the black magic restraints that still held her down. Just as she was about to scream out, she heard him mutter Silencio. Nothing but air was expelled from her wide, O-shaped mouth. Tears brimmed against her eyes against as the pain didn't cease but kept washing over her in waves.

Why was this happening?

What the fuck was happening?

Looking down at their conjoined hands, she could see blood seeping between them like water escaping cracks. Her eyes went to Voldemort as she saw his jaw clenched hard, a vein pulsing in his forehead as he kept his eyes on their enclosed fists.

The seconds ticked by.

Minutes.

Maybe even hours.

It was hard to tell as the pain never ceased, but always building. Every time another wave washed over her; she thought it would be the one to knock her out, but they just kept coming. When her body started violently shaking against the floor and the air felt like it couldn't escape her lungs anymore, he finally let go of her hand and fell onto his back, his breath loud and exasperated.

The black tendrils receded, and she assumed it was because he was magically spent and not that he was showing her the mercy he told her so much about. It seemed he needed less time to recover than her because in only what seemed to be a few seconds, he was on his feet and straightening himself. He pulled out his wand and placed the tip of it against his skin and hissed to himself as his skin stitched itself together. Before Hermione could even muster the energy to tell him to fuck off, he bent down and did the same to her, her response also being a hiss as she felt her skin pull itself back together.

She watched through foggy eyes as he stood once more, dragging a hand through his hair as he looked down at her, like she was the filth on the bottom of his shoes.

"Next time, I expect you to be better behaved."

And with that one statement, he turned on his heel and walked through the cell door, slamming it behind him. She didn't watch him walk away, but knew he left when she heard the distant door to the dungeon she was in slam shut.

Hermione whimpered to herself as she curled into a fetal position, gripping her knees underneath her chin as she let sobs wrack her body. No longer did she feel like the invincible assassin, no longer did she feel like the lioness, the Golden Girl, or even the killer she had become over the years. Hermione reflected on how she felt before she got captured. She always thought she felt empty then, that she didn't feel anything then, but she had no idea. None. How naïve she felt now.

She felt empty.

She felt hallow.

She felt alone.

Next time?