Koiame: This is the most horrible thing I've ever written I think. Though sadly, my mind has thought much worse. I cannot emphasize that this is 18+ enough.

Reviewer 'Thank-You's to: None, but that's okay. Review this chapter. 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the books that my fanfic is based off of or most of the characters in this story. They belong to the goddess JK Rowling.

Content Warning: By reading this story, you certify that you are at least 18 years old and will not hold the author or anyone else accountable if you truly are not. Contains strong language, may contain strong sexual content, may contain strong graphic violence, angst, rape, and a ton of other things that persons of weak constitutions would not find suitable… and parents would not find suitable. Please keep this in mind and stop reading if you feel like it is too much for you. I'm not kidding!

Enjoy.

Chapter 11: Carnal Sin

The clear bubble of nostalgic dreams burst; pure ecstasy filling the void. There was only pleasure and a faint awareness of motion. Like the ebb and flow of tide, Harry's body moved in pulsations. Somewhere there were laughter and words. Behind his shut eyelids, colors exploded and consumed his soul. His heart no longer ached and loneliness was never a thought. But still, he felt as if he'd forgotten something. Gradually, panic began to swell inside him, pushing back the numbness of constant pleasure. There was pain, and slivers of light that cut into the darkness.

'No Harry. Stay asleep. Don't wake up now, darling.' An erroneous voice pleaded.

'Who's there?' Harry thought; the light ever expanding. 'Why shouldn't I wake up?'

But there was no reply. Consciousness was rushing forward. Awareness gripped every nerve of his body. Facedown, propped up by his elbows, Harry felt warmth beneath him. The soft scent of perfume tickled his nose. Opening his emerald eyes, a blurry face came into focus. All was now still. Lifeless eyes stared through him. Motionless, Rebecca lied in her bed under him. The naked, warm wetness of his pelvic region brought shocking clarification.

"Está acordado." Yelled a male voice close to him.

"Bom dia. Fazem você gostam do que você vê?" Another man addressed Harry.

Mocking laughter followed, but the shaken young wizard heard none of it. Confusion and horror left Harry frozen in hell. All color had vanished from Rebecca's normally rosy cheeks. Not once did she blink or take breath. The slightest hint of dried tears glossed the sides of her face.

"Rebecca?" A child-like voice passed through Harry's lips. 'She's… dead? And I...'

Terror was captured in the furrow of her brow and dilation of her pupils. There was screaming in his mind, in his soul, and in his lungs. Something more precious than sanity broke in that instant; innocence was dead.

"Shut up!" One of the men grabbed Harry by the back of his neck and threw him to the floor, silencing his screaming.

The raven-haired young man crashed against the wood violently. He howled as shattering pain radiated from his left knee. The sickening crunching caused the spectators to revel more. A hard kick connected with his side, collapsing him. Head swimming, Harry instinctively reached for his wand, but found only bare skin where trousers should be. He was naked from the waste down; exposed and vulnerable; violated and violator. Tears were too little. Broken bones and bleeding was too little. Nothing occluded the horror of what he had been made to do.

"Devemos nós fazê-lo dar-lheo outra vez?" The same man asked his comrades before he turned to Harry. "Don't you want finish start?"

The dreadful meaning of the man's broken English did not escape Harry. Bile was rising in his chest, burning his throat.

"Imperio." Spoke the man; causing the wave of pleasure to return. But it could not be allowed to stay. Harry snapped vehemently out of the spell he'd been trained to defeat. Now, of all times, he would not submit to it knowingly.

"No!" Harry shouted as reality returned abruptly. His arms flailed wildly and eyes searched to put faces to his tormentors. 'Why is this happening? Who are they?'

"Crucio." The spell hit him four times, simultaneously. Unimaginable agony engulfed Harry.

"Nós devemos ir agora. Estarão esperando-o hoje à noite." One of the men spoke, ending the assault.

'They must be the muggle smugglers.' Harry concluded; the bitter ramifications of his failure to track them down previously rotting his soul.

"OK. Bata-o para fora primeiramente." Another captor agreed.

Even though he had trekked every inch of the Amazon, the auror had never managed to learn much Portuguese or Spanish. Instead, he would use translating spells if necessary. Rebecca had always spoken English, though she was fluent in Portuguese as well. All that Harry could understand from the smuggler's exchange was that he was to be taken away. Rebecca's body would be left there discarded.

"No!"His right hand grasped towards her. 'I can't leave her here like this!' It was the graveyard with Cedric Diggory all over again. But this time, there was no portkey; no escape.

"Stupefy." The spell hit Harry in his back. There was no fighting it. His hand dropped like lead to the floor. A marred hand of one of the men came to rest on Harry's back. In an instant, they all had apparated away. Only poor Rebecca, in her deathly pall, was left as a mark of the wickedness done.

Koiame: Yeah, I know. What's wrong with me? Poor Harry! And necrophilia is freakin' disturbing. But this is an angst-ridden story. All the bad stuff makes good stuff so much better! And sorry if my Portuguese was crappy. It is a lot different than Spanish and French alone. Please tell me what you thought. I hope to offer you more soon. Thank you!