Title: Shadowed Lightning
Relationship: Voldemort/Hermione/Tom
Genre: Drama/Romance/Horror
Rating: Adult
Warning(s): Dark Themes, Torture, Character Death, Sexual Content
Word Count: 1024
Summary: When sanity snaps, all one can do is follow the madness and embrace the dark.
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot line belongs to J.K Rowling.

Prologue

Loud pounding of the unforgiving rain, the wind shrieking and rattling trembling trees, thunder and then the brilliant flash of lightning; an expression of hatred could be seen - and a small figure curled around herself, frozen and still upon crimson stained grass. A bitter and triumphant laugh, quick whispers of forgiveness, of purity, prayers and pleas - spit lands in blood matted curls, and then the barley audible sound of foot steps walking away. Another roar of thunder, louder and closer than before, but the figure does not move as electricity charges the air, crackling and sparking, a fierce strike of blinding white before darkness.

The howling of the wind continues, leaves whipping to and fro, the sound of an abulance faintly heard but no hope ignites. A groan, deep and agonizing fills the air, and the blackened tree begins to sway; descending slowly, the roots battling against gravity and then - hesitation, it's looming mass hovering in the air, the only stillness in the chaos of its surroundings, shielding the figure from the rain falling above.

Snap.

Head turns and her smile is wicked and dark as she watches the oak come closer to her crumpled form, her eyes glowing almost unnaturally in the dim light of the moon escaping through cracks of swirling clouds. Her smile widens, teeth bared, and she throws her head back, her cackles lost in the next bout of thunder, a crazed expression carved into her delicate, petite features. She opens her eyes, crimson and filled with excited glee, the same color as the blood dripping from her face - tongue darts out and licks pouty lips, the metallic taste sharp and sweet, smirk slow and intent. She studies the wood of the trunk, the swaying branches and the uplifted roots, leaves tickling her cheeks and chin, water pelting down on either side of her body, untouched and delighted.

A flick of her healed wrist and the large oak soars through the air, twisting and flinging bullets of rain, crashing with a shriek, briefly drowning the storm's cries. Muscles tensing while hands flex, stretching over mud and blood painted grass, she rises with grace and malicious intent, strength rushing through her veins and skin knitting until smooth. The rain cowers away from her striding figure, clothes and hair drying, the once scarlet blood coating her body now a crusted brown. Her steps are light and silent, bare feet grazing the ground almost as if floating, and not a whisper of her path remained.

Crimson eyes trailed over the back of the shadowed house, windows covered in steel, the door a thick, foot width of metal. Her smile is a parody of gentle and loving, her arms flung open as if asking to be embraced - warmth at her fingertips and a blast of dark, unforgiving power. A screech of metal being torn from its hinges is drowned out by the next crash of thunder, fulmination lighting her twistedly beautiful face, teeth glinting as she laughs, glorious and vicious.

She stalks forward - controlled, elegant, precise. Walking into the welcoming darkness, excitement shines from her eyes, mouth twisted into ruthless madness, the damp air crackling from an energy born from hate. The door slams shut, echoes dancing from corner to corner, the floor shuddering and groaning, the walls aching with despair.

Once to keep out, now to trap within - the house belongs to her now, the playground for her revenge. Breathing deeply, air musky and a lingering scent of mildew stinging her nose, she cocks her head and listens. Creaks and scrambling feet cause a slow smile to spread, a teasing glint in glowing eyes.

"Daddy," her coo fills the room, feet turning slowly and silently moving across the wood, dirty nightgown swirling around blood crusted flesh, "-why are you hiding?"

Silvery light shines from a cracked door into the darkness of the hallway, illuminating and reflecting crimson orbs, a malevolent sheen sparkling eerily. Voice soft and childlike, innocent but edged with darkness, "I had a nightmare, daddy,"

Gliding silently, feet padding across carpeted floor, a door opens, squeaking as it crawls across and into a wall. She stands in the threshold, her gaze meeting eyes so familiar, vindictive to fearful. Slowly, she glides across the room, smile predatory, face mockingly sweet. Her arm rises, fingers trail gently across a scarred cheek; a flinch and the grip tightens, roughly turning the frozen face to hers, nails digging, crimson droplets falling like tears.

Leaning forward, cooing in soothing whispers, she shakes her head, wild curls swaying with the motion, "Don't be frightened, daddy," she murmurs, smile gentle, eyes hard, "I won't hurt you,"

Screams tear through the room, inhuman and rough, echoing as her laughter joins, caresses, and dances with the vocalized agony. Her joy is high pitched and cold, mad and wild - face twisted with victorious pleasure as fresh blood splatters across her skin. Bones crumble and splinter, muscles ripped and skin torn; ruby rivers pore from eye sockets, fingers bent and crooked, mouth agape in silent screams as she twists her hand and yanks.

The heart still pounds in her grip, blood dripping and staining wood floors, spraying the once white nightgown a gruesome, muddy red. Squeezing a fist, she cackles as the organ is crushed, her grin wide and free, fingers sticky as the thump sounds in the now silent room. Crouches down and slowly pets wet, matted hair, stares into the forever tormented, anguished wide eyes, studies the mangled artwork of her first piece - her face is satisfied as she straightens, turns and strolls leisurely out of the dark house, the front door slamming firmly shut behind her.

She stands in the front of the her once home, past the yard, gazing back at the shadowed darkness with triumph. Her hand comes to her mouth and takes a long, savoring lick, a moan quietly leaving parted red lips. Darkness and victory, spicy and sweet. A grin twists across her face, turns and walks across the road before she dissappears with a pop, her laughter echoing through the dark street behind her.

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