A/N: I should write on one of my ongoing stories, but this plot would not leave me alone, and, as a result, I had to write it down. Like the other two one-shots I've published, this one is also inspired by a song.
"A Monster Like Me" by Mørland & Debra Scarlett - It's absolutely wonderful, and the music video is worth watching.
It has not been beta read, so if you see any mistakes please let me know.
Well then, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not J. K. Rowling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am not J. K. Rowling.
Warning: Graphic description of violence. Murder husbands. Slash.
A MonstEr Like Me
Isn't it fun? The chase after the prey? Running with all you power, muscles burning from the strain, harsh breath and heart hammering in the chest.
You are alive.
And soon.
Soon, you will capture it. Digg your teeth into unblemished skin and draw red liquid. It runs down white skin, painting it in the colour of life. Life that shortly will vanish from the captured and devoured prey.
It cries for help. Help you and the prey know will never come, because you - clever boy - have cut all strings and there is no longer any connection between the prey and its kin. It has been abandoned, but it cannot, will not, believe it.
You adore the power of holding another person's life in your reckless hands.
In your careless hands.
Firstly.
Play with it. Let it believe you will let it go.
Secondly.
Stab it in its back when it least expects it. Let it grasp its hopeless situation and then see the light leave its eyes.
Who can stop you?
No one.
Yes, it is quite wonderful. Let the monster roam free. Let it devour, destroy, but never, absolutely never, try to control it.
For that will be your doom.
"Harry,"
He tried to ignore the voice, forcing himself to stare fixedly at the page. So clean, only the black inked words dirtying a previously spotless paper. In a way, it was saddening. It had lost its purity when it attained the black words. Knowledge.
"Harry." It was repeated strictly from the other room; the dining room.
Harry shook his head, focusing only on the book. His eyes flickered over each sentence, trying to read, but not one word registered in his mind. At the bottom of the page he halted at the word 'kindness'. Staring intensely at it, he sighed. Maybe, if he tried this time, the dinner would only end in a few cold hugs and kisses before the guests strolled out of the mansion. Never to be seen again. Then other people would consider him to be a kind man, would they not? Because it was though kindness that one let a prey escape. Or maybe he had become so twisted that he no longer understood the concept of being kind.
Harry was not entirely sure. He had to do some reading up on the subject, it seemed.
"Harry, come here." No longer strict, but smooth and soft. It was time.
"Yes," Harry replied, but sat there for a few second, just breathing and trying to relax. He had to control every fibre of his being if he wanted to succeed. "I'm coming." Placing the book on the small table beside him, he stood up and strolled towards the dining room.
Tom was lightening the candles - long, pure and white - when Harry walked into the room. The man had the curious habit of lightening candles without magic.
'It calms me', he had replied the first, and only time, Harry had asked. He always used unnecessarily long time to light the candles with a matchstick, one by one, and often in total silence with only his own breathing as a companion.
Their eyes met, Tom's mahogany - almost red - digging into Harry's forest green eyes. His face was expressionless, mirroring Harry's own, and he nodded shortly before he continued to lighten the candles.
Harry stood still, studying the other man's movements as the minutes passed by, and more and more candles began their journey towards their inevitable end.
Once Tom was finished, Harry let his eyes roam the table. It was huge, big enough to host an enormous party, and it stood elegantly in the middle the extravagant dining room. A picture of Tom's father had attained the luxurious spot on the wall behind Tom's chair and was constantly staring coldly and emptily into the room of the living. Unlike so many other pictures in the mansion, it was unmoving and stoic. It had not been blessed with a breath of magic upon its creation.
The current state of the room was a sigh to behold, with warm, damping food covering the table and delivering a mouthwatering smell to every living being. Delicious enough to die for.
"The Malfoy family will be here shortly," Tom murmured, brushing his hands over his suit. "Are you prepared to give them an experience they never will forget? Even in death?"
A spark entered Harry's eyes and he nodded. "Yes... I'll give them everything tonight - everything they could ever dream of - and when it's all over, they'll be incapable of telling the difference between right and wrong. I can already imagine it, Tom." He replied calmly, eyes fogging as his imagination ran wild. "Mr. Malfoy's usual self-control will slip between his fingers and he will not care, not be embarrassed, but ecstatic. Ah... It'll remain in my mind until the day I die - the imagine of that pompous blond eating like an animal." His delight was not expressed by any facial expression, and the only way one could notice his happiness was by looking into his eyes. They were swimming with emotions.
When Harry looked at Tom, he saw that the man was in the same state. Eyes so incredibly vivid, and as the candle flames flickered, reflecting in his eyes, Harry only saw two pools of blood.
Three strong knocks forced their eyes apart. It had begun. The guests had arrived and the intricate play had commenced. A play, Harry thought unnecessary and Tom adored.
"Please," Tom whispered, strolling up to Harry and placing his arm around Harry's waist. "let us invite them inside." Their hips touched and bodyheat was shared. A soft heat that was almost unnoticeable though the cloth.
Harry had never liked the Malfoys, but he would admit that he did not dislike them either. They were only very bothersome. Like mosquitos were when they crept into the bedroom at night. Those pests.
Tom gripped the door knob, and for a second they glanced at each other. Pleasant smiles, clean suits and well-groomed hair. Everything was under control.
The door slid open, and three pale faces greeted them.
None of the Malfoys looked especially pleased. Lucius Malfoy had a sour look on his face, like he was biting into a lemon, and it was clear that he wanted to be somewhere else entirely. Standing in great contrast to her husband, Narcissa Malfoy had managed to present them with a stiff but pleasant smile. It was a great start. Draco Malfoy was standing behind his parents, trying to seem uninterested and unimpressed. However, he was failing spectacularly and his eyes shone in curiosity. It was the first time he had been invited to dine with the Minister of Magic.
Lucius glared coldly at them, and when Narcissa realised that her husband had no intention of greeting the young men in front of them, she spoke up. "Good afternoon,"
Nodding back, Harry tilted his head and stared past them into the sky. "Yes, yes.. It is a very good afternoon indeed. The weather could not be better and you all look wonderful, as always." He replied and glanced back at Narcissa. Draco snorted at his comment and looked up at the dark, grey clouds. The weather was far from pleasant. It was biting cold, and it would not be a surprise if it began to snow.
Narcissa was taken aback and seemed unsure if he was sarcastic or if he really believed that the weather was 'good'. Forcing a smile she nodded, but made no reply.
Tom's smile widened slightly, and he chuckled as he brushed his hand on Harry's waist further down the younger man's hip. A light kiss was placed on Harry's cheek before he glanced at the Malfoy family, who were shifting uncomfortably. "Please, come inside. It has been so cold lately and the rainy days never seem to end. I do hope the sun will bless us with its appearance one of these days." Not hesitating, the dirty-rich family strolled inside and glanced unimpressively around the entrance hall.
They would not be missed.
"Harry, dear, would you see if the cake is finished?" Tom asked as he stepped away to help Narcissa remove her heavy coat.
"Of course," Harry replied and hurried out of the room. He had no desire to share oxygen with the Malfoy family longer than necessary. Fortunately, they would not need oxygen the entire evening. Yes, the dead has no need for air.
Strolling into the kitchen, Harry turned off the gorgeous Muggle oven. There was no cake inside.
He swallowed slightly in excitement, and closed his eyes for a moment before he walked across the room up to a large, antique closet that had no place in a kitchen. Fishing a key out form his pocket, he unlocked and gently opened it. Behind the closet door there was a wall of small drawers, all in the same size.
Harry knew exactly what he needed. He crouched down and opened one of the drawers at the bottom of the closet. It was full of different sized bottles, all quite small, with various colours and forms. Almost like a box packed with perfume bottles - expensive, beautiful and deadly.
He pushed his finger carefully over the bottles, caressing them with his war flesh. Halting at a pitch-black container, he picket it up carefully. Glancing down at it, he sighed. Why could they not just use a knife? A Muggle one. That would humiliate the arrogant family much more than this.
However, they had discussed it and agreed on what to do, so Harry would not surprise Tom this time.
Harry pushed it carefully into his pocket, and closed both the drawer and the closet. What now? Ah, the wine. He walked up to the wine cabinet. Gaga Barbaresco 2007. Staring at the wine bottle, he bit his lips. He did not want to share it with the Malfoys, but Tom had said it was perfect for the occasion, so who was Harry to disagree?
Sliding it into his hands, he walked back into the dining room. And from there it was the usual preparations.
It was the beginning of the first act.
He open it carefully, almost lovingly, and had to remind himself to breath when he began to feel dizzy. Harry inhaled and exhaled loudly. When he had opened it, he gathered the glasses in front of him, and poured blood red wine into each of them. Pushing his hand into his pocket, he caressed the pitch-black bottle for a second before he brought it out. Silently, he opened it, and was careful to hold his breath while he added one drop of liquid in three of the glasses. It was done.
He nodded in satisfaction. Closing the small bottle, he pushed it back into his pocket.
Murmuring voices could be heard from the upper floor. Feet were moving over soft carpets, past expensive furniture and towards the stairs downstairs to the entrance hall. Perfect. The usual tour Tom put his guests though was over and they were coming down.
Soon.
Lucius entered the dining room together with Draco, and when his eyes landed on Harry he halted suddenly. His eyes narrowed in disgust at the sight of the bottle and his already sour expression soured even further. Harry immediately knew the reason behind the man's expression. The wine was made by Muggles.
Suddenly, he felt much better at sharing the wine with the Malfoy family. Yes, it would be so wonderful to see the man bring the glass of wine to his lips expecting to taste sour and horrible wine, only to be greeted by an unusual rich and pleasing taste. His eyes would probably lit up in surprise at the taste before he hurriedly placed the glass down at the table as he bit out a sharp comment on 'how bitter the wine was'. However, Harry was sure that the man would pick the glass up several times throughout the dinner to draw a mouthful from it, always when he thought no one was watching.
"Is the house pleasing enough of your eyes, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked, placing the bottle down on the table. "It's an old mansion Tom inherited form his dead father, a horrible man with a very handsome face... " Lucius face had scrunched up in distaste at the mention of Tom's father, and while some would have deemed it clever to halt the conversation, Harry continued, openly enjoying the man's discomfort. "If I remember correctly, all of the furniture in this mansion is inherited from the Riddle family... Yes, this table," He brushed his hands over the smooth surface. "has been passed down from family to family."
Lucius eyed the table with disgust. "How can you live in this house is incomprehensible to me." An unhealthy light entered the man's eyes, and Harry stared intrigued into them. The eyes were the window to the soul, he had heard somewhere and he hoped it was true. "I have never been able to understand... people, who sympathise with Muggles. Those who believe we and them are of the same kind and made of the same matter, are foolish. It is outrageous. Just the idea is illogical, and there is no reason backing such thoughts but the lack of education." The elder Malfoy was smiling darkly at Harry, who smiled even wider at the man's comment.
"Do you believe I'm uneducated, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry slid down into the chair at his side and lifted a glass of wine to his lips, but he did not drink from it at once. Instead, he inhaled deeply, ignoring the other men. Muggles were cattle. Poor, misunderstood and foolish, but still nothing more than mere livestock, there for the entertainment of the more fortunate souls. However, Harry had no intention on informing Lucius about his view on Muggles. And he did enjoy the show the man put on. He tried to irritate and anger with opinions he believed stood in enormous contrast to Harry's own. Foolish man. Harry had been brainwashed ages ago.
Harry glanced down into the red liquid. Such an amazing aroma it emitted. Fleetingly, he wondered if the three other glasses, all containing a tiny drop of insanity, would taste any different than the one he was currently enjoying.
Glancing up at the two men, Harry noticed that Lucius had yet to reply. He was probably considering an answer in which he could be both rude and polite at the same time. "I cannot say I know much about your education, Mr. Potter." He replied after a while.
Nodding, Harry glanced past Lucius into Draco's eyes. "Draco, have you never talked about your time at Hogwarts with your esteemed father?"
"Of course I have," he replied uncertainly.
"How wonderful, let us enjoy our lack of education together." He smirked slightly, and when Lucius opened his mouth to argue, Harry held up his hand, halting the words in the man's throat. "Please, let your voice rest. I believe Tom and your dear wife are finished with Tom's extensive art collection. Please be quiet. We wouldn't want to destroy the pleasant atmosphere." Harry smiled as he saw Lucius open his mouth again. However, at that moment Tom and Narcissa strolled inside the dining room and Lucius's mouth snapped shut.
Narcissa halted immediately as she noticed the tense atmosphere in the room and she glanced hesitantly at her husband and son. Lucius was obviously furious, but he had managed to conceal his anger being another mask of sourness. "Dear," She began, but Lucius shook his head when their eyes met. Harry was pleased. Narcissa was an entertaining woman.
"Let's eat, I wouldn't want to eat a lukewarm meal." Harry murmured without much thought.
Tom, who stood beside Narcissa, chuckled in humour. "Harry, we can easily reheat it with a wave, you know that, do you not?"
Cheeks heating, Harry glanced away from him hurriedly. "I forgot... that we... Whatever, let's eat." He heard another chuckle form Tom, but he ignored it.
"Please, chose a seat, Mrs. Malfoy." Tom drawled, placing a hand on her waist to politely push her towards the table. Harry followed their movements, lips tightening in disgust as he saw Narcissa's cheeks colour slightly. No, Narcissa was no longer an entertaining woman.
They all took a seat at the table. Tom at the end of the table with his father's picture behind him and Harry on the other end. Lucius and Narcissa dutifully took a seat at the table side closest to the entrance, and, as a result, Draco had no other choice but to take a seat on the other side. In Harry's eyes the positions they had chosen meant that if, only if, something were to happen, then Lucius and Narcissa would escape though the entrance, abandoning Draco to his own fate. How cruel they were.
Noticing the wine glasses standing lonely at an unreachable spot on the table, Harry stood up. "You used such a long time to get around the house... so I poured my favourite wine into some glasses, Gaja Barbaresco 2007. You must try it. It's exquisite!" Waving his hand, the glasses glided slowly up in the air. They seemed to stutter in their movements several times, and while the entire movement proved that Harry had some knowledge of wandless magic, he was inexperienced and did not have much control over the objects. Bumping slightly together, they halted for a second, before sliding apart, moving towards each person.
The way they moved illustrated that Harry had no power to decide to whom each glass went.
Harry glanced towards Tom, who was smirking slightly at the act. His stomach fluttered in delight.
Lucius glanced at the glass doubtfully, but said nothing. Harry bit his lip, hoping the man would refuse to drink so that he could go and get the butcher knife. Tom was always better in bed after Harry had butchered their guests messily. Slumping down into his chair, he licked his lips as heat pooled into his abdomen.
Tom lifted his glass as he spoke. "I am delighted that you had time to dine with us this fine afternoon. There were quite a few of the invited guests who did not have time to show up tonight, so let us drink for them too." Tom lifted his glass to his lips and Harry followed his movement. Draco, still naive after so many years, glanced uncertainly at his parents, but when he noticed that they were lifting their glasses towards their lips he picked his own up hurriedly.
They were really doing this. Again.
Draco, not noticing his parents doubtful stares at the wine, followed Tom as he drank. His face lit up in pleasure at the taste.
Lucius stared intensely at Draco for a moment and when he saw no immediate reaction, he waved his hand over the glass, murmuring incomprehensible incarnations before he deemed it safe enough to taste. Narcissa mirrored his movements and only when she saw Lucius drink from it did she allow herself to take a mouthful from it.
Red liquid ran down their throats, colouring their insides in a beautiful shade of deadly black. Insanity was blooming.
Harry had always thought that Lucius was somewhat clever, but now he was doubtful and very disappointed. Apparently, the man had some information concerning poison and its effect on the body. If no immediate reaction happened then a strong magical incarnation would be able to smoother any deadly poison so that the only reaction would be a light headache. After all, it was common knowledge that if it did not kill you at once then it was not deadly when mixed with a preventive incarnation. Or maybe Lucius was incapable of imagining a scenario where the Minister of Magic would poison him. He was a valuable asset to the Ministry, and there were none, inside the institution, who could kill him without horrible consequences. How lucky he was to have been born rich and spoiled.
Now that every member of the Malfoy family had tasted it, there were no need for any knife. Such a disappointed.
It was almost too easy. And judging by the look Tom was giving him, then he, too, was beyond disappointed.
Seconds passed by, and they all began to quietly place heating food on their plates. Not one word was exchanged, which was wonderful in Harry's opinion. The less he had to hear their voices the better.
Tom leaned back into his chair, glancing over the table and the people seated at it. Tranquility took over and by now the only sound were tableware clinking against plates, and small whispers originating from the spoiled family. They were rude, which was wonderful. It meant that it had begun to take effect.
The slide downhill into chaos began when Draco slumped heavily in his seat, gripped the wine glass with both hands and pressed it shakily to his lips, gulping down huge mouthfuls. As he messily inhaled the drink, drops ran down from his lips, staining his light robe. His eyes closed in pleasure and he took no notice of the shocked stare from Narcissa.
She swallowed, placing her hand at Lucius's wrist as she glanced at her husband. However, Lucius paid her no mind, instead keeping all his focus on consuming large amounts of food. He was leaning over his plate, and with his left hand was he blindly searching for the closest plate of food while his right hand busily showed mashed potatoes into his eager mouth. Lips smacking forcibly together, wet with spit and tongue reaching out his mouth every time he lifted his fork towards his mouth. Narcissa stared in shock at his behaviour, mouth tightening at the disturbing image. Glancing hesitantly at her hosts, she saw Tom smiling pleasantly at Harry, who was openly grinning.
"Narcissa, are you not hungry?" Tom asked, eyes shifting from Harry to her.
She smiled stiffly. "No, no... I... I believe we should go home..."
"Why? Is the meal not good enough?" The Minister of Magic asked, swirling the wine in his glass with elegant fingers. Her eyes halted at the red liquid sloshing around in the glass, and she had a sudden impulse to wrap her fingers around her husbands pale neck. Tightening until he no longer could embarrass her.
She forced herself to look away, bringing her hands up to touch her chest. Her heart was hammering. "I want to go home." It came out as a whisper.
"No, you'll stay," Tom replied. "You are our entertainment today. And would it not be rude to return home when you just arrived? The night is still young and there is much more on our menu." The world was swimming. Lucius was a disgusting creature with no control and she had to crunch the vermin before he did some serious damage to her reputation. Maybe she could kill him the same way Lucius Tarquinius Priscus was killed? An arranged assassination, disguised as a riot? All it would take was a fatal blow to the head and he would be gone. Then everything would be her's, only her's.
Harry inhaled forcibly as he saw Narcissa stumble and fall into the pool of twisted thoughts and horrible actions. It was done. It had begun. He stood slowly up from his chair, and strolled towards Tom, who was staring passionately at him. Past Draco, who was on his knees on the table, reaching for the wine bottle. Lucius, who was choking on the food he was forcing into his mouth and Narcissa, who was staring widely at Lucius as though she was seeing him for the first time.
Stepping behind Tom's chair, he leaned up against it and brushed his fingers though the man's smooth hair, ruffling it. Harry leaned closer, placing his chin on Tom's neck and brining his hands over the back of the chair to hug Tom's shoulders. "I love this," He whispered into Tom's ear. "At first it irritated me that we had to use the potion instead of a knife... you know how much I love to mess around with our guests. The chase is always so incredibly exiting. But, it's all right now... everything is alright. This couldn't be better." Closing his eyes for a moment, he exhaled warmly before he opened his eyes, studying the actions of their guests.
Draco was still on his knees on the table, eyes wide as he stared into the empty wine bottle. His blonde hair was hanging messily in front of his eyes, no longer styled. The light robe was now coloured with various brown colours originating from the food he had smashed on his way over the table and his collar was red from the wine. Harry loved it.
Tom nodded. "This is... therapy. It has been too long since we did this." He slid his hand over Harry's, lovingly. "I never expected Lucius to be such a good entertainer. Always so boring and arrogant, his act today is utmost enjoyed. However, the knife is always optional next time, if that is your desire. I chose the method this time, so it is only fair that I let your chose next time." Glancing to his side, he met Harry's ecstatic eyes. Respect and understanding, that was the base of their relationship.
Lucius choked loudly, gagging and coughing.
Smiling widely, Harry stepped up to Tom's side and lower his head close to the man's. Breath brushing against his lips. Tom was Harry's anchor and he would do anything for the man. Harry leaned closer, lips almost touching Tom's smooth and wonderful ones. The man in front of him was staring intensely at him and no words were necessary. It was clear. Harry was Tom's anchor too.
Tom pushed his hand through Harry's hair, guiding his head closer until their lips met. Slowly and so lovely, there were no haste in their movements. Harry closed his eyes, only focusing on feeling of the man's lips. The small, light kisses deepened and Harry opened his mouth to swipe his tongue over Tom's lips, who opened his mouth in response. Their tongues clashed. Slowly and sensual. Heat mingled and spit was exchanged.
Draco laughed loudly and hysterically, and Harry leaned backwards, halting the kiss. He glanced deeply into Tom's eyes for a moment, before they both looked back at the show, hands entangled.
Tears were streaming down Draco's pale cheeks as he laughed, pushing plate off the table with hurried plates hit the floor with horrible crashes.
Narcissa was still staring foggily into the air, only a wide smile proving that her mind was long gone. She was raising her left hand, which was gripping a knife, slightly before she lowered it again, staring down at it in betrayal. Lucius, who was shovelling unpeeled shrimps into his mouth with his bare hands, glanced at her and after second broke out in hysterical laughter. Half chewed food feel out of his mouth, landing on Narcissa's clean robe. He pointed his finger at her, coughing slightly before he continued to laugh.
She bared her teeth in anger, and, not hesitating, swiped the knife across his hand, bringing forth blood. Lucius howled in pain and his chair fell backwards. Narcissa laughed and Draco began to cry like a child.
Tom chuckled and Harry sat down at the side of his chair, leaning close to the man. Untangling their hands, he brushed his fingers over Tom's wrist and further up his slender arm. Caressing him in adoration and love.
Narcissa stood up from her chair in a hurry and stumbled towards Lucius, who was clutching his hand. Loosing her footing, she lost her balance and fell down onto him. She tried to hinder her fall by bringing her hands in front of her, and succeed in burying the knife in Lucius. Blood sprouted and Lucius made a weird gurgling sound in the back of his throat.
Leaning forward, Harry could see that she had managed to drive the knife right though Lucius's throat. Narcissa sats still beside him for a second, before she retrieved the knife and then stabbed it back into the wound again. She repeated the process several times, laugh loudening.
Draco was sitting sat the table, staring blankly at her. Then when she began to laugh, he screamed, scrambling over the table to runs straight at her.
Narcissa tumbled away from Lucius's corpse, hitting her head harshly against the floor. Groaning, she continued to laugh. She laughed and laughed and laughed. Draco shook his head, screaming in reply.
He threw himself on Narcissa, gripping her throat tightly. She sputtered and tried to force his hands off her throat, but with no success. Draco sobbed slightly before he screamed into her face. Harry winced slightly at the sound.
His hands tightened and Narcissa slowly lost her strength, limps loosening as she lost consciousness. Her eyes slid close, and only then did Draco loosen his grip.
Draco sobbed loudly and for a moment Harry became worried that it was already over. However, it all shifted as Narcissa's eyes snapped open, and she smashed her head against Draco's. He cried out in pain, crawling away from Narcissa to nurse his painful head.
Narcissa coughed harshly as she grasped the knife at her side. She hurled it towards Draco, hitting him directly in the head. The light in his eyes left immediately and he sagged down onto the floor. It was over.
Tom shifted at his side, lifting his wand to send the killing curse at Narcissa, who fell down like a doll whose strings had been cut. And that had been their duty tonight. They had been the dolls entertaining the Riddle household.
A warm hand brushed over Harry's waist, fingers caressing the fabric and, as a result, the skin beneath. Glancing at the man, he saw two pools of swirling blood. Warm with life and passion. He licked his lips. "Not here," He whispered and Tom lifted an eyebrow in question. "Why?"
"While I do love to force the dead to watch, the bed is always much more comfortable." Harry stood up and walked away from Tom, who still was sitting in the chair. Swaying his hips seductively, he looked over his shoulder to lick his lips, wetting them with spit. "What are you waiting for?" He said as he stepped over Lucius.
Tom laughed loudly into the room, his laugh booming across the silent guests and mocking their inability to laugh with him. "Let's go then." He stood up regally, his beauty deadly."Let us make the dead jealous."
"And the living envious." Harry whispered in return, not seeing anything else but the man in front of him.
Years ago, when Harry had been a different man, he would have collapsed in shock at their actions. After all, it was wrong.
However, Harry could no longer see the difference between right and wrong, and the path they walked only guided him deeper into insanity.
Harry had no plan on halting anytime soon.
ThE End
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