By BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this! Just the plotbunny that KaylaisEvenstar challenged me with... Plotbunny Magnet, remember?

AN: Drabbley drabbled drabble.

In the Grip of Your Enemy's Soul

Start!

Harry and Hermione rolled his eyes as Ron crept down the hallway, twitching at every squeak of the floorboards. As they passed by an open door, Harry caught a glint of metal. It called to him. What was that?

'Harry...'

He was in the room, reaching for the shining beacon. Warm, smooth metal slid under his fingertips. Light flashed. Hot hands caressed his back as his face was pressed into warm silk. Everything was spinning backwards, then his back hit the wall and he knew that he had been moving backwards, but things were still spinning. Hot lips pressed onto his, hands now running down his chest. When had his shirt been undone? His fingers scratched against the wall, scraping at peeling wallpaper as his lungs quickly ran out of oxygen.

Just when he thought he would pass out, his lips were released as his attacker moved down to latch onto his neck. Gasping, he vaguely noticed glinting red eyes before he was deprived of thought by the slightly larger body pressing into him. Large, filling, hot pressure forced in the most pleasing way. Mouth dropping open to gasp at the air.

He couldn't get enough. Never enough of this.

His feet were braced against the peeling wallpaper as his arms moved to sling around the other man's neck, urging him to continue this most pleasurable assault. If he didn't live past these moments, he could die a happy man.

Pushing, pulling, the slapping of skin so wonderful and he was crying out - the pleasure too great - warmth rushing all over him. Nothing more than this. This was all he ever wanted.

SMACK!

Shaking, hands slapping his face, voices calling his name. Insistent, bothersome.

"What?" He managed to groan, cracking open one eye to see a very worried Hermione and Ron.

"Harry! What happened? We were so worried!"

"You were there, right next to us, and then you were just gone, mate!"

"Stop it... too loud..." Groaning, he tried to turn away. His hand met cold metal. "What?"

"Harry, we found the locket horcrux. Apparently, R.A.B. didn't get the chance to destroy it. You scared us because we found you spasming on the floor. Are you alright? Should we stop by St. Mungo's?" Both of them were white as a sheet, but Harry couldn't seem to care. He couldn't care. They had stopped him.

Pushing up, hand wrapped tightly around still cold locket, Harry shook his head. He stumbled, but refused their touch.

" 'M fine, 'Mione. Let's get back to camp, so we can get some rest." Reluctantly, they agreed.

shift

Shining golden, delicately carved snake on the locket, it was beautiful. There was a picture in the locket of Tom Riddle, Sr. He looked so much like his son. His son who had split his soul into seven pieces and locked them away. One of them had just molested him.

And he had liked it.