Warning: If you can't stomach violence, sexual implications or strong language, please do not read. I don't mean to offend anyone, but my character is of a violent nature. He's a Death Eater.
If You Love Someone, Let Them Go
The date is June 4th, 1978.
I graduated Hogwarts about this time six years ago in 1972.
Six years. 365 days a year. 2190 days.
I've written to Alecto Carrow nearly every blasted day since I've graduated. Care to venture how many letters I received in return?
Come on, humor me.
Guess, how many?
Goose-egg.
After a year, I made the decision to just stop writing them. What's the point? She never responds, and I continue to rack my head with reasons as to why she's continued to ignore me and what I could have possibly done to warrant this treatment.
Well, I'm fucking done with this game.
What I need now is a distraction. Something to take my mind off of everything. Well not everything. Just one thing. Her.
Draping my trench coat over my shoulders, I moved to the mirror to observe my appearance. Gaunt eyes, hollow and bruised from sleep deprivation. I hardly recognize myself, which is why I need this.
With a 'pop', I apparate, landing in the alley off one of the side streets of downtown Muggle London. Of course, I land in a bloody puddle. Hissing under my breath, I cast a drying spell, hoping my new leather shoes aren't ruined.
Exiting the alley, I make a sharp left. The moon hangs high in the navy sky, illuminating the dodgy street. Hooligan children loiter on the streets, clearly past their bedtimes. Sneering down at them, I walk past, glowering with each step. Avoiding contact with the vermin, I align myself with the curb, my eyes focused straight ahead. Soon, I wouldn't have to be dealing with this scum infested city. I smirked darkly, remembering the last attack, led by the young Lestrange. More attacks of that caliber were to come, I was sure. However, I needed something to tide over my thirst.
And I knew exactly where to quench it.
Neons lights flashed exotic signs of naked women, flaunting their uncharacteristically long legs, voluptuous, perky breasts, and long, voluminous locks, tipped back, arching their backs in life size martini glasses. A cacophony of heavy beats blared from the inside of the club. The thumps of the bass vibrated through the cement, tingling my toes as I approached the rickety doors. The slums of London left much to be desired, but tonight, I wasn't feeling particularly fastidious in my selection when it came to strip clubs.
Walking into the smoky atmosphere, I swallowed the bile rising up my esophagus from being surrounded by the filthiest of the Muggles. Horny, over aged men clung to the front of the stage like flies on a dead moose carcass. Grinning toothily, they practically drooled at the blonde, busty bimbo, who curled herself around the middle pole before flipping herself upside down and spreading her legs into a split. How pathetic. It wasn't about them tonight; I'd deal with them later.
My catlike sapphire orbs scanned the facility in search for the perfect specimen. Taking a seat off to the side of the stage, I waited. It didn't take long until I was approached. One red haired muggle with porcelain skin draped her arm over my shoulder and pressed her full bosom against my shoulder. Her hot breath tickled my ear as she leaned in to ask if she could do me a favor. The only favor I wanted was for her to fucking drop dead and get her disgusting claw off of me. I'd need to be sterilized after tonight.
When I rejected her, she stomped away, finding an obese wanker to seduce with her filth. I wasn't looking for a wanton firecrotch. Nor was I looking for a bubbly blonde twit, either. I wanted a slut with long, dark raven locks.
And that's when I saw her. A petite whore appeared with thin yet shapely legs, clad in a form fitting black corset with a blood red brocade overlay and a garter that pulled at the sheer tights, exposing the curves of her calves. The strapless corset enhanced the fullness of her ample breasts, which pressed delectably against the fabric of the corset. Her piercing blue eyes locked on mine as long, raven tresses cascaded over her shoulders invitingly. With a small, pointy, upturned nose and full, cupid's bow lips, I knew I had to have her.
A slow smirk graced my lips, inviting her over. Flashing her sharp teeth in a seductive grin, she sauntered over to me like a cat, exuding an abundance of confidence and grace. The only kink in her design.
"Care for a private room?," she whispered, her ruby red lips grazed my ear lobe.
"Let's go," I answered, my gaze intensely glued on her.
When she lured me into the back, I wanted to skip. Everything was going according to plan. For being a feculent muggle, she was practically perfect. Her hand enclasped mine as she pulled me into a dark, secluded room. Pressing my back against the door, I let her slide her body against mine, molding her lithe form to my own. Might as well let her have her fun, if only for a little bit.
My hands found their way to her round hips before moving up her slender slides. It was a familiar feeling, but it definitely wasn't the same. It would never be the same.
Her small hands moved into my sandy locks, tugging at the silky strands. She ground her hips into mine as her lips latched onto my neck. Though arousing as it was, it was only a matter of time before I had to get down to business.
Moving from the door to the couch, she pushed me onto the soft, cushion. At least she didn't flood my eardrums with nonsense. Just soft moans and gasps.
Ohhhhhh. Mmmhmm. Ahhh.
Straddling my waist, the raven haired whore rolled her hips against mine. She tugged again on my hair as my hands grasped her firm ass, pulling her closer to me. Her skilled mouth nibbled along the column of my throat. Opening my eyes, I was hit with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia.
The cabin. Teeming rain. Agruments. Lips crashing upon Alecto's. Her small form entangled in mine. Whispered confessions of "I love you."
Fucking lies.
Then it happened. That memory snapped a cord in my composed state. The rage within me exploded, knocking the levy of restraint I've tried to maintain since our last department. All of the pent up anger and hurt unleashed itself, and I was unstoppable.
Instinctively, my hands went around her throat, my thumbs pressed against her absent Adam's apple. Her blue eyes flew open, wide with fear and distress. Gulping her air, she thrashed around, trying to hit and kick me. Begging to be released, her silent cries and pleas were ignored. I only applied more pressure and watched as her porcelain face changed from cherry red to a pale blueberry.
"Fuck you, you fucking bitch," I hissed, my round, ebony pupils greedily devouring my sapphire irises.
Her grip on my hands, which were firm at first, now slackened. Shaking her violently, I head bunted the little bitch. Lolling her head backwards, her limbs went limp in my lap. Pushing her off of me, her small form fell to the ground in a lifeless 'thump'. I rose to stand over her.
Resentful and rage burned behind my eyes as I proceeded to kick the unconscious vermin in the gut repeatedly with my pointed shoe. Bending down, I grabbed a fistful of that luscious raven hair, that was softer and more tame than hers , and connected my balled fist into the tramps mouth. Blood oozed from the corners of the stripper's lips followed by a tooth. Discarding her body to the side with a toss, I picked my coat from off the ground and dusted it off. Pulling it around me, I reached into it's pocket and pulled out my wand.
The muggle was clinging to a thread of life by the time I had finished with her. Being the sadist I was, I performed the Cruciatus spell for a few kicks and giggles. I watched as her mane of raven hair jostled like a storm of foreboding catastrophe. Her blue eyes lifeless as tears stained her cheeks. Her screams echoed through the room, piercing and pained. It was beautiful.
After a few minutes, I ceased. The whore was practically dead.
"Aavada Kedavra," I hissed, allowing the green light to claim what was left of her life.
A satisfied smile spread across my features as I left the room.
Walking through the empty corridor toward the main room, which echoed with heavy R&B beats, I felt a sense of relief.
There's a ridiculous, fluffy quote I remember hearing. It went: "If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were."
I have my own: "If you love somebody, and they rip your heart out and eat it in front of you without a single inkling of remorse, then you let them go, and find a look-a-like of that heartless bitch, and kill her."
Works for me.