Addicted
Rating: PG-13
BetaRead by: Berethiel
Pairing: Harry Potter, Virgina Weasley
Warnings: Dark, language
She took another step away from him and her back touched the cold stone
wall. Trapped. Like a mouse with two broken legs and only one eye in front
of a cat. She was the injured mouse, he was the cat.
He stood in front of her, tall, dark, and powerful. One strike of him and
she'd be dead. She knew it.
"You said you want to live my life. That you envy me because of my power and money, my fame. You think my life is just a sappy fairy tale, don't you, Virgina? That it makes me fell better to have people swoon over me. That my only problem is Voldemort and I took care of him?"
He came closer, his hands grabbing her shoulders roughly, pinning her against the wall so that she had no chance to escape.
"How about I clue you in? I'm sure you'd love that. Where shall we start?
Ah, yes, how about my late parents? My 'father' was a fucking bastard, literally speaking, and had nothing better to do then warm the beds of every woman in sight, married or not.
He thought himself better than others, tormenting fellow students and colleagues out of sheer boredom. It's surprising he wasn't a Death Eater, but he'd have never bowed down to
anybody, no, people were to bow in front of HIM.
His favorite past time was getting drunk with my also late godfather and than have him watch beating up his wife.
Who, in return, had nothing better to do than work her arse of in order to serve him throughoutly. She was a slave and a whore for him, nothing else."
He paused as if trying to calm himself down.
"She was nothing but a weak piece of crap. One fateful Halloween, Riddle,"
she shifted uncomfortable at the name, spoken in the cold, hard and somehow dead voice her opposite used since they talked,
"decided to do the world a favor and got rid of the mudblood whore that was my mother and that wonderful husband of hers. You want to know why I know all this?"
She gulped as he suddenly asked her this question, then reluctantly nodded.
He smirked coldly.
"Dreams. Or Visions. I 've had them ever since I'm four years old. I don't only have nightmares of Voldemort. Anyway, my introduction to the magical world proved all this dreams to be true. You know why I hate Tom so much?
Because he made my escape into anonymity impossible. Just because he wasn't able to kill his own son."
She didn't react in any way. After all, she had been for a long time that Harry resembled Tom more than his supposed father, James Potter.
"It seems that my mother was not only a mistress for Potter, but also for several Death Eaters and for the great Voldemort himself.
The man that was supposed to take me in, the same man that watched Potter beat up my mother, rather followed his own low revenge dreams than taking me in and entrusted me into the arms of my father's enemy, the man that forced me to have the worst childhood imaginable.
Receiving my Hogwarts Letter was a hope for me.
A hope to escape, to finally be able to be myself. But as I said,
Voldemort deprived me of this possibility. The moment I do something unexpected, they shun me. And now they shun me even more, although I did exactly what they expected. I killed, Virgina.
I'm a murderer. I ended a human life. Using Dark Magic. But not with a clean
'Aveda Kedavra'. No, I used something far more powerful. A cutting curse.
It worked. But you know what? It showed them that killing doesn't make you a
hero. They saw someone die of my hands. They were deprived of their innocence. And they blame me. But I don't care, Virgina. Can you imagine that?" He paused and then, very calmly with a strangerly monotone voice said:
"Dark Magic is addictive."
He leaned closer, so close that she felt his breath on her ear and neck. Earlier she had known that he could kill her with one word. Now, she felt it.
But it didn't bother her.
In a whisper he continued.
"I'm addicted. I tasted blood, Virgina, blood that held a taste of power and seduced me. And I want more. It was so thrilling to be the bringer of death, to decide if somebody should live or die, it is indescribable in words that I know. This blood lets me forget. Forget what I have gone through, what I did, who I am. It holds a sweetness understandable to only very few people.
Do you understand that, Virgina?"
Even though he only whispered, she heard everything he said.
"Yes."
Her answer wasn't as much as a whisper, it was merely breathed. But the
world around them suddenly seemed so quiet, so innocent, that she didn't dare to speak any louder, as if her word could possibly destroy the world of the people close to her, surrounding her.
She knew darkness as a part of herself, but his confession seemed to break down all the pretences she had kept up for so long.
But, as Harry said, she was addicted. To Darkness. To Dark Magic. To him.
He stepped back, just enough that their faces were inches apart.
And then he smiled.
The End
Please review, even if just to say that you don't like it. Every response is a good response. lol