Oleander
By Persephone
Rated PG
Disclaimer: Characters, etc. belong to JKR.
AN: Companion piece to Honeysuckle. D/G during the war. For Rainpuddle, your review made me write this. Also thanks to Zelle, for putting Honeysuckle on favorites.
*
You may be deceived if you trust too much
He sent the pacified lion back into the den, and smiled from the snake pit.
Sometimes it was too easy. Sometimes he thought that it would all come crashing down, pulling him down into the dark recesses of some lost, forgotten, dank part of his mind, and leave him to rot, mildew, molder in his mistakes.
Trust was something that had never been a part of his life, and it confused him to see it in others. Why? Why would someone walk so willingly towards someone they knew, just knew would hurt them? Why did a smile and a few words change a person's outlook? Why had she believed him when he'd told her those lies?
She had known who, and what, he had been from the start. No denying.
Once upon a time, a woman was picking up firewood. She came upon a poisonous snake frozen in the snow. She took the snake home and nursed it back to health. One day the snake bit her on the cheek. As she lay dying, she asked the snake, "Why have you done this to me?" And the snake answered, "Look, bitch, you knew I was a snake." *
She was the old woman, but he hadn't bit her yet. No, he was saving that pleasure. Waiting, watching, for the perfect moment. She was his, and he liked that. She would be his, and he wanted that. She would succumb to him, and he was anticipating that.
But still she came. Innocent and crying, lost in a haze and floating, hating and in grief. She would come.
She was a bee, he thought. She was a bee that came to the oleander. She saw only sweet nectar and soft petals, while the rest of the world shook its head as she spread the poison, provided the means for the deadly flower to propagate.
And the vulture swooped down from its lofty perch, and crept ever closer to the dying rabbit.
She returned, bloody and sobbing. She always returned, fueled by her misplaced trust. She always cried, hating what she did. He always obliged, loving the power. He always complied, feeling merciful.
When the fighting was over and the song had been sung, he hoped she would return to him as she had been. When he had first broken her trust, when she had been mad and angry and wildcat furious. When she had spit and screamed, hit and cried, made him hurt and made him smile.
He had loved the expression when he had first put her under the lovely Unforgivable. He hadn't wanted to put the fiery Unforgivable on her, hadn't wanted to watch her squirm. He hadn't wanted to put the final Unforgivable on her, she was too valuable to waste. Instead, he bound her to his will, his soul, his very being.
And he had smiled at the revelry that ensued.
Dark cloaked man had congratulated him as main thorn in the side of their master and lord was removed at the hands of his accomplishment.
Women, children, and men alike had cried at the loss of life. So tragic, and unexpected, and above all mysterious. Who had the lovely young redhead seen running from the home of her longtime love? Who had the lovely young redhead seen running from her family home? Poor girl, nobody left...
And the tamed lion did its trick. The tame lion allowed the trainer to stick his head in its mouth. The tamed lion, the pacified lion, the wounded lion played its part.
And the snake watched.
but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough
~Frank Crane
***
* from the movie Natural Born Killers.