Disclaimer: I dont own anything. Not the songs and not Harry Potter. Nothing.
I wrote this when my stories werent cooperating with me. For now it is a one-shot but I may pick it up again later if I have inspiration.
Eden of the Damned
Blood was so beautiful in the moonlight when it decorated the white tiles and buttercup walls of a bathroom. When a blade flashed through the silver light and opened creamy pale flesh allowing ruby red drops to form and slip down to splash against cold desolate flooring below. And the soft voice of a broken soul that sung to another cut from the same decimated cloth, "Hush child the darkness will rise from the deep and carry you down into sleep."
The fractured love that can only exist between two that know nothing of joy or happiness untainted from the blank stains of death and destruction. Knowing only the litany that they sing to each other when the darkness becomes too much and they know the other is all they will ever have. They sing it as they search one another's eyes in the purest light either has ever known, the only light that shines through the inky blackness that is all that their world consists of. "Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, only to me." It's a promise and a plea and a warning all wrapped into one and it's the only comfort either understand in a world made of bloodstains and tears, screams and threats, pain and suffering, beatings and rape. It is the law they have lived by all their lives, their only law.
He is the shadows hair dark as ebony that flows to the ground wrapping around him like a cloak as it sucks the color from all around it bangs framing the jaded Cal Poly green orbs that could freeze a man's blood in their very veins. His body is ivory carved with ropy lines that sang of an internal suffering seen by none and cared about by even less. These ghostly white lines are made by his hands and release the most intoxicating colored liquid he has ever seen. Seeing it again and again had become an obsession a need beyond any craving for food or water or sleep that he has ever felt before. The only need that is above this one all-consuming wish to watch his life flow from his body with glinting metal in his hand is the one that devours all else in its path. A need to see her shattered, punishing, and satirical grin that can never be labeled as a smile but nor can it be called anything else for a smile speaks of happiness and the grin damaged and ruined as it is, is the closest she will ever come to happiness. And he craves that expression more than he craves air to fill his lungs. That grin and her touch is all he needs to survive, it is all he has survived on since his birth.
She is what light would look like if you stained it irreparably with ink of the darkest shade. With what was once golden hair but now lacked all luster and sheen it may have once contained and cracked corn silk eyes that no longer contained the ability to see, she was the vision of tainted light. Unlike him, who was born into the dark, she was dragged down from an early age stripped slowly of dignity and moral until she sat in the pits of hell with him and cackled the insane laugh of one who could be harmed no more than they already were. To her it is the amaranth pink of fresh burns against her maroon skin that is the darkest of delicacies. It is the flickering flame that transforms what was once beautiful into something tarnished that captivates her very being. It is her who sings his lullabies in the darkness of hell and her who warms his cold body with her flames. For her he is everything and more. She is the moon and he the earth when he shifts she moves to accommodate. More than her flames more than the burns and the suffering more than the tarnishing of every glorious entity in the universe she craves that infinitesimal, derisive, demoniac twitch of lips and demented glint in his eyes that comes out only when he is at his absolute worst and the sinful soul that resides within him is filled to the brim with depraved pleasure. And so she sings to him in the silent and solitary bathroom: "I pledge my allegiance to all things dark and I promise on my damned soul to do as I am told."
For them it is more than a mere pledge. It is a pledge of allegiance and obedience, the words acting as a contract between the two tying them to each other's wishes and stating them as the other's slave. "Lord Beelzebub," she sang because he was her lord, her king of the underworld and the one who controlled her. "You've never seen a soldier quite like me. Not only does her job, but does it happily." And he will pledge himself to her in the same way. With different words and a different mind he will reply: "The love is lost, beauty and light, have vanished from garden of delight. The dreams are gone, midnight has come, and the darkness is our kingdom. Angel of Darkness, Angel of Darkness, the world is in your hand." She is his Angel and he is her Lord. Under his rule she fights and under her guidance he will build a kingdom of tarnished glory and decimated splendor.
She is called Estella Malfoy but her soul sings when he dubs her his Angel of Darkness.
He is Harry Potter but his heart burns brightly when she dubs him her Lord Beelzebub.
Together they complete a puzzle that holds only jagged edges and shows a picture of barren lands and swirling orbs that drain the light and life from their surroundings. It is a picture that will drive any mad but to these two it is a picture captivating and glorious beyond any creation, bar each other, for them this is their Eden. This is what they will set out to create.
Harry Potter had been born into darkness even though his parents were exalted light wizards. The moment he had been conceived his very being had been stained by the scorned love of a man, who had been tarnished by the hatred of his father and weakness of his mother, and by the capricious heart of his mother that had decided to so callously disregard the emotions of a powerful and internally stunning man for one who had a gorgeous exterior and a rotting interior. These three people had been woven together by Magic herself and had been twisted by their own pettiness and cruelty into forming a life that should have never been. As punishment for abusing her gift so thoroughly magic had damned the child to a life of darkness even as she brought him into her embrace loving him as a mother would her child and yet as a being with no true thought nor feelings she gave him not the love of a human mother but the gift of power, enough for him to take retribution on those who belittled him and treated him as if he was lower than the dirt on their shoes.
It was this tainted and darkened power that drew all to him. For in all there is darkness, a seductive litany that will croon in the back of one's mind until it takes over completely. The young Harry called to that in all that surrounded him the sinfulness of his very being calling to them seducing their unconscious allegiance from their very souls. He was a good child, his parents said. He is a true beauty, they all would agree. And little baby Harry would watch quietly, patiently. He never cried, not for food, not for warmth, not for cleaning. No he called to them without verbal help; he used his magic to whisper his needs in their ears instead. Eventually his parents noticed his peculiarities. They began to fear him and despise him for what he was when in reality he was merely a creature of their creation. As the fear grew it blossomed into a deep soul tainting hatred and they began to neglect the child they had once praised.
It was this neglect that would be their downfall. The pain and hatred that permeated the house fed the darkness in little Harry's soul until it was great enough to call out to one with more power than any other. It was this neglect at the hands of his parents that called Lord Voldemort to their house that Halloween's eve. Despite their negligence as parents, when the Dark Lord began to hunt them they agreed mutually to take Harry with them, for they could no longer call him their son: no creature of such depravity could have originated from them. So they ran with little Harry in tow and somehow the Dark Lord kept getting closer to them, closer and closer to finding their hiding spot. The longer they hid the more they feared, the more they feared the more Harry's powers matured, the more his powers matured the stronger the beacon they let out to call the Dark Lord to him.
It wasn't long before the Dark Lord arrived at their hidden home for he could feel the call even though the Fidilious charm set up around the house. He destroyed both parents easily. Pathetic creatures meant only to feed from before being rid of them. They were worth no attention of his. And then he came upon the real prize, Harry. The child's eyes were already jaded and spoke of an intelligence no young one should ever contain. And the Dark Lord knew with stark clarity that this child now was more a part of the Dark than he could ever hope to be. In fear, a fear so primal the Dark Lord was never even aware if its existence within him, he cast the darkest spell he knew: Avada Kedavra. But even with all the darkness and sin Voldemort contained within his body one of it was enough to harm the demoniac child watching him mockingly from the crib. Instead the small baby devoured the tainted power as it hit him leaving behind nothing but a lightning bolt scar and before the Dark lord could flee, for he had finally realized his mistake in attempting to harm this child, Harry returned the spell swirled with the inky stains which made up the entirety of his own soul. Voldemort's body crumbled to dust unable to hold such absolute immorality within the weak mortal flesh.
And later when Black came to collect him Harry instead implored him to go after the rat and Sirius so entrenched in his own darkness obeyed his true Lord and left to bring back the creature his master had asked for. Hagrid, so out of tune with the darkness that writhed within his soul caged in a netting of fouled light, did not respond to Harry's urgings to follow Sirius; Hagrid would be the first on his list to die.
When they arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive Harry could taste the greed and jealousy and pride that tainted the very air. He quieted upon the feeling devouring it as it greeted his soul shredding any lasting light to oblivion leaving behind only devastating ruin in its wake. This would be the place that the last of Harry's light would be extinguished and the place where she would come to him. So Harry, knowing in a way that was not true knowledge that this was a place he needed to stay, did not even try to reach out to the darkness he could feel twisted around the old man who carried him to the doorstep nor did he fight when he was left in the cold air with little besides a ragged thin blanket for cover. The cold had always been Harry's haven and on this night where no stars shined in the sky and the moon hid behind invisible clouds the young child accepted his place in this world: as its Armageddon. And words were whispered into the night air heard by no ear yet resounding through every soul and staining even the brightest with its sickly meaning. "When god is gone and the devil takes hold who will have mercy on your soul? Well I am death. None can excel. I will open the door to heaven or hell." And it would be hell to which he sent all souls. "My name is Death and the end is near."
Estella Malfoy was born into the light despite her parents being well known dark wizards and accused Death Eaters. Both her parents held affection for each other though it never dared to cross into love. The one secret that her father had and wished to carry to his death was the true origins of her birth. It was this secret that dragged her pure soul through the mud and into the pits of hell. For her father had not been faithful and in the night when he thought none would see he transferred the newly created Estella into his wife's body nearly killing the woman who was supposed to be her mother.
None were the wiser for Estella had the patent Malfoy hair like her twin brother and surely her dark skin tone could be explained by the Black genes Narcissa carried and as for the eye color it was surely just a paler grey than usual. And Narcissa lied to herself for a year about the origins of her youngest child though subconsciously she could not love this child whom her magic knew as not her own. Estella was taken care of by all the best house elves that fawned over her beauty and golden aura while her brother was left to the care of their parents. It was he who heard words of love and praise whispered in his ears while Estella's ears were filled with the poisonous whispers of her true mother, a woman scorned and the bastard half-sister of Lucius himself; not that he was aware. "Guileless girl, I'll shape your belief, and you'll always know that your fathers a thief, and you won't understand the cause of your grief, but you'll always follow the voices beneath."
From the time she released her first breath Estella was a pawn for her first mother, a way to destroy the man she loved more than any other. And it was from this mother that she learned love and loyalty, this damaged affection that was only tainted the further the longer she lived. For Lucius, as he was father to her only through blood, had steered her birthing mother, Narcissa, farther away from the golden child whenever Narcissa's conscience caught up to her and demanded she show kindness to her daughter as well. Inside the once benign and benevolent child began to grow a being of depraved sin. "My only girl, your spirit will hate her. The flower who married my brother the traitor. And you will expose his puppeteer behavior, for you are the proof of how he betrayed her loyalty."
However the final blow, the last drop of sludge which had young Estella falling into the dark pits of agony and despair known as hell was all her true mother's fault. For the bastard sister of Lucius to communicate with her child vast, powerful magic was needed, magic she took from Estella's small form. Magic Estella did not have to perform wondrous feats such as her brother could do on a daily bases. Horror washed over her parents as the only conclusion, to their addled meager minds, presented itself to them in terrifying clarity; their daughter was a squib. In their horror they threw the child to the dungeons leaving her in solitude with the creatures that resided in the inky shadows down below and the demons residing within her own psych.
It was these creatures, monster formed from thousands of years of prisoners' wishes for retribution and the destruction of their captors, who were more thought than being, more magic than man who took her from certain death and instead sent her to another formed of the same turpitude and desolateness as her. It was here in the dark of night on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive she met her Lord. It was here the machinations of her mother bled from her body and new chains were wrapped around a willingly given body, soul, heart, and mind. And as the chains wrap around her, as she signs her life and world away as a servant to him, a voice breaths through her very soul giving her one warning, a warning that to her is more a promise than a threat. "Hope you got your things together. Hope you are quite prepared to die. Looks like we're in for nasty weather. One eye is taken for an eye."
A young once tarnished golden baby girl reached her hand out to accept the embrace of jaded baby boy born into the darkest depths of despair. And as the sun rose upon these two creatures born from the foulest of filth, the most desecrated and demented form of love, and the cruelest and hardest of teachings the very world celebrated the beginning of the end. For the Angel of Darkness had just met and accepted her master and Lord Beelzebub had finally become acquainted with his most dedicated and precious servant the woman who would one day become his beloved Consort. Their love and devotion to one another would bring the very world to its knees as they created an Eden of the Damned.
R&R Please! Does onyone want this to be longer? I might do it but updates would be very sporadic.