after many reviewers requested a sequel here it is. This is the sequel for Fire of Obsession. If you havent read it yet you might be confused at some parts in the story.

Warnings: Disturbing content be forewarned, GORE WILL BE DETAILED

Summary: Its been two weeks after the Burrow massacre, Ron and harry set off on a dangerous mission to get their revenge while George tries desperately to escape from Lee's clutches.

Splat

Sometimes he swore, there was too much of his father in him

Splat

He hated that about himself. He was too much like that bastard, he couldn't stand it anymore.

Splat

The beard made him look like his father too. His father always had a beard; 'real men only wear beards' according to his father. His anger spiked, he didn't want to look like that bastard.

Splat

Dead eyes stared up at him, from the floor. Lee looked down at the body, the grayness of the skin, the whiteness of the eyes. Lee stared at the body, enraged at it for being dead, enraged that he, himself, allowed the person to die. The dead body even brought him back to his father. How his father killed his mom, his teacher, how his father stood over their bodies, eyes full of crazed happiness. Lee never saw his father looked happier than at that moment. Lee could see his own eyes from the mirror across the small room; he had the same expression that his father had that day. He hated himself for that.

Splat

He was not his dad. He was not his dad. He swore he would keep chopping up the body until he believed that.

Splat

Arm fall off, fingers smashed until the bones became dust. Lee stopped, kneeling over, trying to catch his breath, he got overly excited. Lee had to stop himself from thinking about how proud his father would have been of him.

Splat

Legs separated, toes sawed off, many days ago. Lee was shaking with anger, his father's words "Love makes men weak," tangled with the warning that John told him, "Do whatever you want with him tonight, tomorrow you have to kill him." That was nearly two weeks ago. He refused to kill his prize though, he went though hell getting that crybaby back, he wasn't going to just kill him. He was going to keep him, forever and ever, until they are both six feet under. He belonged to Lee, and Lee belonged to him. That was just the way it was.

Splat

The axe split the neck, not fully, but almost. Laughing to himself, Lee kneeled down next to the body and grabbed the neck with both his hands. The sound of skin ripping bought excited shivers to run across Lee's body.

Splat

John told him to kill George, Lee didn't want to.

Smack

The axe slipped from Lee's hands. Lee still laughing looked down at the bloody object, turning back to the body on the floor. He picked up the head, caressing the silky red hair.

"You disappointed me."

Lee threw the head, it smacked against the wall nearest to a small bed. Lee stared after the head. He smiled. Starting at that bodiless head his eyes scanned upwards, to the bed. To the man, sleeping on the bed, chest shakily rising and falling, rising and falling. Still alive, still breathing, still able to scream.

Cuffed

Hand cuffed, cuffed, cuffed to the bed's railings. The other arm dangling over the edge of the bed, legs spread, tied to the wall behind the bed. Body shivering from the coldness of the room. Naked, completely naked, in a position just begging for someone to fuck them, a thin blue silky sheet covering their unmentionables. He had to stop himself from going over there, from waking him up and just fucking him senseless. No he had to clean first.

Lee turned back to the dead one. It was a shame that he had to die so soon. He felt like he wasn't able to do everything he wanted to do with this one. Lee was unsure too, when this victim died. Was it yesterday, today, when he started to cut him up with the axe right now? Was it Lee who killed him or was it a sickness? So many possibilities.

He had two victims, two captives. One was his soul mate, his lover, the one he won. The one who he killed a whole family to get. The other was just an unlucky stranger, someone he met at the bar. Lee didn't want the stranger at first, only wanted his soul mate, but John scared him into getting a second victim.

"You are very sadistic. How long do you think your little precious boy will last if you go back to torturing him like you did? Trust me, if you if really want to keep him, than get another victim. One you can be as sadistic as you want without caring if they die or not. Do it to your boy and he would be dead in less than a week."

That was what Lee was doing for the last two weeks; cutting the stranger up, burning him, sticking weird objects up his ass to see what would fit. He would starve the stranger, refuse him water, chained him to the pole outside regardless of the weather. Lee would let the stranger eat, get shelter, and drink, all needed for survival only if he ate shit or drink urine first. He would do anything to the stranger and he enjoyed it a lot. He played with him a lot.

With his soul mate, his lover, his fuck toy, he would feed three times a day; make sure he got enough water. He kept him inside, keeping him cool on the hot sunny summer days. He would fuck him, harshly, fast, deep, making sure it hurts, but he would restrain himself from practicing harsher sexual acts that could be fatal. Lee still fisted him, Lee liked fisting, and he does it usually once a week. He also will still rakes a rake across his back while fucking him. His soul mate gets laid once a day, sometimes twice; sometimes Lee would fuck him three times a day. Some days he didn't touch him at all and some days he was a bit too rough, a bit too sadistic. It all depended on Lee's mood. Whenever Lee wanted his toy, he got his toy, and Lee was thankful that it was so.

Two victims, it annoyed him at first, they seemed to connect with each other. He would walk in to find them both talking, comforting each other the best they could. Lee didn't like that. He didn't walk his lover talking to the stranger; he didn't like his lover talking to anyone.

Two victims. One was his prize, the other was his unlucky victim, one is now dead, the other one is fine. Both had red hair, both had the same eye color, the same skin color, almost the same height, nearly the same weight. One was more built than the other. One had freckles, one didn't. One of them was a bit lighter than the other, a little paler but not enough to really make a difference. One was from Europe, the other was from America. One was now dead; the other one was cuffed to the bed, for Lee's amusement.

Lee sighed, opening the black trash bag he brought with him. He had to bag up the dead one. He picked up the legs, the arm, threw them in the plastic bag, grabbed his brander, burned his brand into the chest, and threw the torso in the bag. Grabbed his scissors, walked up beside the bed, bent down to the floor, lifting the decapitated head by the hair. The scissors opened, the head fell back to the floor, Lee now holding on to a long strand of hair. Lee kicked the head again, laid the scissors on the edge of the bed. Walked over to a jar, stuffed the hair in the jar, walked back to the decapitated head, picked it up, and walked back to the bag. He stuffed the head in the bag, it barely fit and Lee had to break the scull even more to make it fit. He wasn't done yet though.

Walked back to the bed, scissors back in his hand, he looked at his live victim. He grabbed a strand of the tangled and ratty hair, pulled it, and yanked it toward him. The scissors cut though the hair and Lee held the hair to him almost religiously. He pocketed the scissors and walked back to the bag, throwing the hair into the bag and yanking on the stings, closing the bag. He tied the strings together; the bag slumped against the wall, blood slowly straining the bottom of the bag.

Blood strained the flooring. Lee walked to a cabinet, taking out his bleach. Bleach worked wonders with blood. The key with trying to clean up blood was that if you bleach it when it was still wet, the blood would come off. Thick rubber gloves held the rag as Lee scrubbed at the floor, a breathing mask over his mouth. The smell of bleach could kill, no one seemed to worry about it, but Lee knew that. Lee watched someone die once from sniffing bleach.

Scrub, scrubs, scrubbed. The body from the bag was starting to smell, the smell of death, and Lee knew he should dispose of the body while it was still dark. He skids on his knees across the room, cleaning up every piece of blood he saw. There was blood on the bed, but he couldn't clean that up, even if he managed to find another place to put his still breathing victim, blood never comes off of fabrics.

He stood up, mask yanked off, thrown to the floor, on top of the bleach full towel. He stared at his living victim, smiled. Bent down, kissed him, ran hands though the red hair, one hand moved down, over the face, down the neck, to the chest. He traced the brand he made, slapped it gently. Lee dug his fingernails into his victim's arm, tighter and tighter, until painful eyes stared up at him, and a hiss rolled out of a clenched mouth.

"Wake up slut, he's dead." Lee hissed and the victim's eyes widened with his words. Lee stood back, letting the victim look around for the other one. The one who kept filling him with false hope, the one who told him that everything would be fine some day. Lee smiled when he saw that the victim focused in on the bag. He watched the victim's eyes water, and eventually he heard the small sound of crying coming from that still tightly clenched lips. It was the sound of mourning. Man does Lee love that sound.

"Oh don't cry now sweetly. You knew eventually he would have died. I mean…isn't it better knowing that he died and not you? It could have been you, should have been you, so as far as I know you should be both happy and relieved." Lee paused for a reply he knew he wasn't going to get. Lee broke his victim's jaw three days ago.

"Well, doesn't matter now does it? I am going to dispose of the body. I'll be back before the sun comes up. Enjoy your solitude while you can. When I get back…let's just say… Georgie be ready. I am going to let you experience one of my old time favorite torture devises." With that, Lee turned around, grabbed the bag from the wall surprised how heavy it was. He didn't think a body could weigh so much. He smiled as he walked to the door, his reflection in the huge mirror mimicking his actions. He laughed, the look on George's face, Lee bit his lip. He was going to have so much time tomorrow.

Lee just had to remind himself to be patient tonight.

Okay how do you like? Its just the prologue but please review. It helps me base if people have interest in my stories or not.

Also if anyone wants to beta my story I would really appreciate it.

Okay, I want to give a shout out to a amazing reviewer who really helped me get working on this sequel. HideThe Decay, I think you so much for your review. I hope you like the sequel