Pairing(s): Harry/Tom and Draco/Ron (i think that will be all....)
Warnings: insanity? not the humor kind, but real insanity. angst, slash and sex. blood and morbid themes. i am not for children
Rating: R
Part: 06/??
Disclaimer: Not mine, need I have to say? The character have their rightful owners (who I am too lazy to name off), I'm just borrowing them for some one my little ideas.
Noted: I don't have a beta, so forgive my errors. Another shorter then my usual chapter, I believe (I usually write 3 or 4 pages and this is only 2 pages). What I don't have in length, I believe I have a ton with interesting stuff. Enjoy.
Again, he couldn't breath.
It was almost like the time he had been washing dishes and Dudley had come up and shoved his head into the soapy water. He had swallowed some and it made breathing hard for a while. He had half expected to cough up bubbles or something of the sort.
It was almost like that.
Just without the soapy water, the laughing cousin and the chore to do.
He felt colder then he had ever felt before. It was like he was sweating little cubes that slid downwards. He could feel his muscles twitch and his skin shiver. He though his fingers must be blue from the cold he was feeling.
His fingers clenched tighter at the fabric of his cloak near his throat. He kept his hand pressed against his skin, just in case one of the men before him decided to go for a kill (which, if he had been thinking more clearly, he wouldn't have thought since true wizards never use their hands).
He shook as the men stepped closer.
The urge to curl up into a little ball was there in his gut, while his mind still screamed RUN RUN RUN. Both of those feelings seemed to make sense. He just didn't know which one to do.
He almost whimpered.
Maybe he did. There was a roar in his ears as HE stepped forward. For the life of him he couldn't summon the courage his house was famous for. Every other time before this, he could. But not now. Not when the enemy was too close and too...too....un-ugly.
Shouldn't the evil one be ugly, after all?
He knew he yelped when HE reached out and grabbed the cloak. He let out a cry as the fabric was ripped from his fingers and he was really revealed. He stood there, staring wide eyed at the cloak hanging from HIS hand. It was the only thing he really thought was protection. Now he was out in the open.
The OPEN.
He tried to will his feet to move, his mind still screaming RUN RUN RUN with a panic that had not set into the rest of his body yet. He didn't move.
Just stared.
At long fingers holding his one and only protection.
At expensive looking robes.
At the grinning face of his enemy.
He tried to sallow some of his fear, to ease some of the panic in his mind. It felt like a cold burning acid was being dripped down his spine, paralysing him completely so that his death would be easier.
Gonna die gonna die gonna die
HE smiled wider and took another step forward. HE must have really enjoyed making his enemy become a deer-caught-in-the-headlights (though HE probably didn't even know what that was).
"How the mighty become."
He whimpered as a hand came up and gripped onto the flesh of his cheek. His scar burned something terrible now, making him almost cry. But he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't lower himself anymore then he already was.
"How easy they all fall."
He gave a small cry of pain as blunt fingernails dug into the skin over his cheekbone and below his eye. He was sure he could feel little rivers of blood making their way down his face now, falling like the tears he wished he could release over his cold cheek.
"How fast they become..."
He expected the green light any time now. He expected a painful curse, or to be made to do whatever HE wanted. He expected cruelty and his death.
He didn't expect to pass out.
"Mine."