"Enough!" Voldemort snaps eventually, and the prod rips from Hermione's sweat-slick grasp. "You are boring me, mudblood. Do something else to your master." There is a pause, and Hermione stares at Malfoy twitching and gasping on the floor, involuntary sounds of pain torn jaggedly from him like a wounded animal, and she would give anything to be able to comfort him right now. "I know," Voldemort says then, wickedly pleased. "Use the Muggle flame device. Let us see how he stands the pain of burning flesh. Surely you will enjoy that, mudblood. Or are you simply that soft-hearted, creature? You cannot stand to hurt even him, who hurts you?"