Mortal Peril - 6

"I can't allow that to go unpunished," he said, his voice soft and menacing.

Harry swallowed, warily watching the finger as it moved closer and closer to the open wound. He let out a hiss of pain, groaning slightly when it first made contact, brushing lightly against the edge of the cut.

"I thought they were the possessions of the Founding Fathers' of Hogwarts," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Voldemort paused briefly before jabbing his finger deep into the cut, causing Harry's blood to coat his hand. Harry screamed, twisting his head and trying unsuccessfully to pull away. Voldemort kept up the pressure until Harry began to see black spots on the edge of his vision.

"You've been nothing but a thorn in my side since your birth," Voldemort hissed in Harry's ear, his breath warm and much too close. "You're like salt in an open wound. Do you know how that feels, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, gasping and unable to fully concentrate on Voldemort's words. His stomach began to roil, and he thought he might be sick.

At last removing his finger from Harry's cut, Voldemort flicked his wand, and Harry felt a stinging sensation inside the wound. Soon his entire arm burned with painful intensity. Tears sprung to Harry's eyes as he gasped, fighting the pain.

"It's a raw burning, is it not? It distracts you and leaves you unable to focus on anything else…anything more important, perhaps. That is what your existence has become to me," Voldemort said, still whispering in Harry's ear.

Harry bit down on the inside of his cheeks, feeling sweat drip into his eyes. His back was drenched, and his legs began to shake. He had to find a way to get his wand and end this now.

"You'll have no need of your wand," Voldemort said, running his finger along his chin, smearing Harry's blood on his own face. "I think it's time I put a stop to your interference…permanently."

"What are you waiting on then? Go on and do it, if you can," Harry said, snarling. "You haven't had much luck yet."

Voldemort's flat nostrils flared, his eyes glowing. Harry felt reckless. If he could enrage Voldemort enough for him to lose control and simply kill Harry now, at least he'd be mortal. Perhaps someone else would then be able to kill him. He'd run out of other options.

"There you are, Potter," a familiar nasal voice rang from the doorway, distracting them all. "I bet you're sorry you underestimated me, now."

"What are you doing here, Miss Parkinson?" Snape asked, taking a step toward the door and placing himself between Pansy and Voldemort.

With a casual flick of his wand, Voldemort pulled Harry from the Death Eater's grip and bodily slammed him against the wall where he left him, hovering above the ground, spread-eagled, as if caught in a giant spider's web. Harry could move his head, but nothing else.

"Miss Parkinson, thank you for joining us," Voldemort said smoothly, his attention shifting to the newcomer.

Pansy visibly cringed, shrinking away from the malformed creature now stalking toward her. Her dark eyes were wide, panicked, and Harry was certain she'd never actually seen Voldemort before now.

"I…I d-did what you asked. I g-got Potter here, just like we planned," Pansy said, desperately looking at Snape. "I did everything you told me to do."

"You used the fake wand as a Portkey. I saw it here when Potter arrived," Snape said, casually flicking his hand toward the discarded wand. "You did well, Miss Parkinson, but why did you follow him here? That wasn't part of the plan."