DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter and/or his friends. But, oh, if I did- oh the SLASHiNESS we'd see! *laughs evilly*
Pairings: only mentioned Harry/Ron--SLASH! haha, me is eeeeeevil! Haha!
Is This a Wip?: nope. Just a one-night stand…
Who Inspired This?: an e-mail my cousin sent me containing this poem… I thought It was really moving so I decided it's something that needed to be shown to the HP crew… if anyone knows where this poem originated, please let me know and I will give credit where credit is most assuredly due!
Who Is This By?: done entirely by Natas… who loves character death, slash mentioning, bad words, graphic violence and long winded sentences…
OTHER NOTES: if you like JtHM (Johnny the Homicidal Maniac) then you'll love this- nuff said.
Inspired by Part 2 of the Director's cut.
ENJOY!!!
………………
Ruby Eyes…
…………………
"are you prepared to die, Mr. Potter?" the cold, emotionless voice hissed at the boy in parseltongue. The owner of the voice appeared to be in his mid to late twenties, with long black hair trailing to his waist and burning red eyes. He wore a long black cloak, which ghosted over the stone floor with every fluid step he took, a form fitting vest and pants, finished with high buckled boots and a cold smirk. His shirt was ivory white and seemed to glow in the darkness that enveloped the two. Even though he appeared to be a young, handsome aristocrat, those who knew who and what he was shuddered from him, terrified of his growing aura and those two chilling bits of hell's fire that could bore holes through your skull.
Lord Voldemort stepped up close to his prey, towering over the sixteen year old boy. Harry Potter, school robes torn and tattered, dried blood caking his left cheek, was chained against the wall, not being able to move an inch of his body, only his neck and head free of the piercingly cold metal, cutting deeply into his skin. Harry knew already that his wounds from his capture alone would never let him see another day, nor did he want to. Indeed, this was his last night, and who better to spend it with the man who had brought so much pain, so much misery, so much death into the young man's life? Harry could think of no one better. The creature that had taken away the only family he had ever had or known. Lily and James Potter, and then Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Hermione Granger had died with the other muggle borns as Voldemort's forces overpowered Dumbledore's and Hogworts had gone down. Then it had been Mr. and Mrs. Weasely and their children, the five boys and one daughter. The list flew on from there, but the names became muddled.
Minerva McGonagall.
Arrabelle Figg.
Even Severus Snape, towards the end, had given his life so Harry could live. But for what? What did Harry want to live for now that everyone was gone?
And then Dumbledore was gone.
Dumbledore had been the last to fall, but it had to happen sooner or later. He and Harry had both known, that after Hogworts had been defeated, all their defenses would crumble and their planning would be lost in the rubble of the once great castle. Well, now it appeared to be Harry's turn, and he would be damned if he would let the creature have an easy kill.
"am I 'prepared to die', Tom?" Harry whispered back, his low hisses echoing off of the stone chamber's walls. Voldemort glared from recognition of the name but didn't say anything.
"I don't want to die, obviously not in such a gruesome way as you seem to have planned for me, but, seeing as how I have no choice in the matter, do what you will. You have pulled and tugged at my sanity ever since I was a baby, and now, perhaps soon, I'll be back with the ones you stole from me."
"and perhaps your tortured soul will continue to haunt my sleeping and waking hours… you are an infestation on my sanity- an infestation I must rid of immediately."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at the man before him and smirked in true Malfoy fashion. "and do what? Rattle my chains? Chill the dungeon's stagnant air? Or maybe just invade your dreams with all the other 'tortured souls' you've collected." he gave a soft laugh and his chains bit deeper into his skin. Voldemort narrowed his eyes into slits of burning red, his tongue wetting his lips took on the allusion of a serpent's forked tongue, testing the air for its prey.
"are you growing angry with me, Tom?" Harry asked interestedly, tilting his head to one side, causing his cheek with the dried blood to press against his shoulder. Voldemort smirked at Harry where he hung, noting the torn clothing and drying blood. "not angry, Mr. Potter." he growled out, red eyes boring into the flickering green of Harry's. "simply irritated. You're a very irritating boy…"
Harry nodded knowingly at this, "so I am." growing tired of the conversation, Voldemort growled out a curse and Harry withered in pain against the wall, tugging at his freshly bleeding wrists for release and eyes closing in agony. It started in his wrists, then stemmed up his bones, the pain growing worse than before. It flew down his legs to coil at his feet, giving him horrible cramps, then it spread back upwards, past his groin, shooting into his heart and all he could feel was the pain. He couldn't see because it had now entered inside his head and his brain felt as if it were being torn apart. No, poked and pulled and tearing in every direction.
Just as suddenly as the pain had started it stopped, leaving the boy breathless and barely clinging to consciousness. "what- what the…?!" was all Harry could gasp out, eyes still shut, head bowed low. Voldemort gave a low chuckle. "immortalize this moment, Harry- it will be your last 'pain-free' one for the rest of your life," he growled out, stepping within an inch of the boy, grinning down at his crumbling form evilly.
With that one last glare, Voldemort began to tighten the chains that bound Harry to his wall, each cutting into the boy like a knife slicing through warm butter, his blood falling smoothly down his arms, legs, chest, and stomach. Harry bit back a scream and welcomed the numbness of his imminent death.
There was no light, no angels singing or dead relatives in billowing white robes, opening their arms to him from the other side. There was only darkness as Harry gave in, giving one last glance up at the man he had come to hate. But, as his life began to ebb away, Harry could see those 'tortured souls' of Voldemort's and left his revenge for them to take up.
He was going home.
*a/n: ack, I think we're getting worse as we get more experience! … review and let me know what you think- my first REAL death fic, so don't be harsh!
Maybe I could write a more graphic ending to this? Hmmmm, probably put it on adultfanfiction.net.net but I'll post another chapter here to let you know…
C ya.
-Natas
Word count: 1165