Z/N: Warnings: Shotakon, Necrophilia, Dark, Gore, Idealistically Damaging...
Pairing: Hellatrix, HPBL
Disclaimer: Characters (c) J. K. Rowling, idea is mine, and I can't for the life of me remember where I got it from...
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Void
A dark Harry Potter ficlet
You are wondering about the darkness. You asked for it. Wishing to get away from the battle.
Harry is in the void. Briefly, he imagines his hand has touched something, something that shouldn't be cold, but it is.
Before this can disturb him, his thoughts float on, blurred, slow. Here in the void there is no battle.
Finally he is away from the Dark vs. Light. The void doesn't have any care for either side. A steady dripping brings his thoughts back,
a bit faster than they would have been without anything to focus on. It smells familiar, but he still can't see anything. He knows he is happy though.
He knows because he is smiling. Things seem to swirl alongside him, trying to get into the stream of thought.
They are lighter than his own ideas, and push harder. In a little while they might slip in, but not now. Now his hand grasps the pale cold thing at his side.
It is someone else's hand. Vaguely he remembers he wished to get away. And away he is. Whoever this is with him, the idea of not remembering frightens him.
It is very important that he know who he is leaning on, whose hands are entangled in his, whose long hair he can feel listless and wet against him.
The dripping continues. And in the hair, something winds down as well. It winds its way down his face, and catches on his mouth.
Sweet, musky and dark, it is blood. This does not disturb him. Somehow, the only thing that frightens him is thinking of who he is holding.
But not thinking of that leaves nothing else. He is wet, and uncomfortable, but still smiling. His wish was granted, by who?
It is so dark, and so peaceful here. But damp. The wetness is spreading. He is breathing the smell of it now, choking his lungs with the scent of life.
Who is bleeding? The thought comes curiously. He makes an effort to move, laying his head on the other's chest. Hearing the soft breath alongside his own makes his smile widen.
The woman's hands clutch his own, and as he slides his head up the sticky dampness grows larger, impeding his thoughts, slowing them down. The traces of light get in. They are absorbed by the dark.
He remembers everything now. His smile widens. Everything he wanted is here. They did it together. And he remembers her.
The dripping increases it's pace even though his heartbeat does not as he presses his lips against hers.
They are both silent and cold, but the act gives them enough warmth to rearrange, leaning against each other happily as the last breath leaves them both.
Harry's wide eyes and content smile seem horribly out of place in the blood filled darkness of the room.
Beside him, Bellatrix looks much the same, but there is something in her dead eyes that suggests she knew more than him.
The splatters on the walls slide down across the brick to join the large puddle created from Harry's wrists and Bella's head.
They lean together with twistedly content expressions. Bella's hand tightens around Harry's. He returns the embrace, and the blood stops dripping from them both together.