This chapter has been edited.
- - Parceltongue
Possession
Chapter XIV - Vengeance
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Voldemort sighed, leaning back in his throne. His mind was consumed by thoughts of Harry - his smooth creamy skin, cherry lips, messy black hair and glorious emerald eyes. "You will be my only," Voldemort murmured the words. He had slept with many people, men and women but he had always been the one they served and he had never willingly served another's pleasure. Even his Dark Arts teachers had known better. But Harry would have that singular right.
He narrowed his eyes, shaking off his memories as a presence came to him but after a moment he relaxed, nodding towards a shadow that was a slight pitch darker that its fellows. "In time," he informed it. "In time I will give your Master everything."
The shadow considered his words before it returned his nod and vanished, once again, leaving the room empty but for the Dark Lord who sat in quiet contemplation.
-Ssss... Do they have to smell so bad?- There was a definite frown in Nangini's voice.
-They're Muggles,- Voldemort replied, delicately wrinkling his own nose. -This is about the best you can expect.-
Nangini looked up at her Master, the end of her tail flicking back and forth absently. -I wouldn't even eat them,- She hissed, dismissing the Muggles derisively before coiling her bulk tighter around Voldemort's throne, closing her eyes as she returned to sleep.
Voldemort smiled thinly at her but the expression faded as he looked back up. Before him were huddled Muggles guarded by five or so of his red masked Elite. Some of the Muggles were staring steadfastly, some were muttering to themselves, others had shed tears and one or two were trembling as they looked at him but Nangini was correct. They smelt. Sweat, piss, shit and fear. It was the last that brought a cold gleam to his eye.
"Muggles..." He hissed the word coldly bringing their attention to him. "You have been brought here for a reason."
"Why?" One of the bolder one's questioned.
Blood red eyes fell on the speaker who gulped and after a moment looked away shivering. "Because of these," Voldemort answered the question, flicking his wand to bring the bruised and bloody Dursleys into the room. The three of them fell to the floor where they remained kneeling, trembling and not daring to look up. The previous weeks had not been kind to them.
"What?"
"I trust you recognise them? You are here because of them... Or should I put it a different way..." He paused sensing the wave of uncertainty. "You are here because you all dared to touch my mate."
"What?"
"Perhaps an image would help them understand, My Lord," One of his Death Eaters suggested with a half bow.
"Hmm..." With an intricate flick of his wand, Voldemort brought an image of Harry to life and most of the Muggles recoiled at it. The Dark Lord smiled grimly. He'd chosen to represent Harry as the boy would be when he was ready. His emerald eyes were still brilliant but coldly focused, his hair was tied back but wisps still escaped in a manner Voldemort thought adorable. The black robes hung around his frame somehow making him seem taller and giving him an aura of power. "My mate," Voldemort introduced the illusion softly.
"That bitch!"
"Crucio!" The Dark Lord snarled, his wand flicking up, his eyes glowing as he targeted the speaker and let the image fade. He recognised the man... Having been in Harry's memories, he couldn't help but recognise the man. It was the first one.
"Earrhhh..." The Muggle screamed, writhing on the floor and the others drew away from him.
The Dark Lord snarled before he with drew the curse. "Never refer to my mate as such. You are all here because you dared to touch him and I do not take kindly to that. He is mine and mine alone."
He was met with silence from the Muggles so he continued.
"The pain my mate suffered you will experience in full and before I am through you will be begging me to die but first I believe simple pain is in order." With a wide encompassing flick of his wand he murmured the word, "Crucio."
Voldemort looked on with hooded eyes as the Muggles screamed. He hadn't included the Dursleys in the curse so they were the only one's who showed some response to the torture the others were experiencing. They flinched at the screams but retained enough sense, or fear, not to move. His Elites watched on with bland expressions, ready to help their Master should he desire it. After a few moments, after the initial screams had faded and the Muggles were gasping for breath, Voldemort released the curse and there was tangible change in the air.
The inky shadows of the ceiling seemed to writhe and a generous portion of darkness dripped from the whole, forming an almost humanoid shape that stood before the Dark Lord. It said nothing but as soon as it was sure that it had the attention of the all the Muggles tendrils whipped out from it touching each of them before dissipating into nothing. Two orbs of absolute black looked deeply into Voldemort's crimson eyes. "Crucio is a bit crude." The whisper echoed from everywhere, as if every inky shadow in the throne room had spoken.
Voldemort tilted his head as he examined the dark before him. This was a far more powerful manifestation than he had ever been expecting. "It is a beginning."
"You are a Dark Lord. It is crude," the shadows repeated.
Voldemort smirked, seeing where the creature was leading. "So what have you done?"
"Given you a gift."
"What?"
The shadow before him spread its arms, encompassing the Muggles. "They cannot die until we desire it. Their minds may not retreat from the pain of Cruciatus and further they shall know terror as children."
The Dark Lord's smile became truly pleased as he flicked is eyes over the Muggles once more, lingering the few he had 'special' plans for. "Thank you," he said warmly. It never hurt to thank those he didn't have full control over.
The shadow looked at him. "It is for our Master."
"Hmm?" Red eyes blinked with well-hidden confusion. "I thought your kind did not take kindly to authority yet you have voluntarily implied you are controlled."
"There are factions amongst us."
"Ah... Watch over him."
"We are."
"You were right though, Crucio is effective but crude."
"As physical torture goes it is effective but it merely deals with the body. The mind can also inflict pain," the shadow nodded its agreement. "My touch does one further thing."
"Another gift?"
"It ensures that they may not experience pleasure from this."
"Ho! True sadists?" Voldemort questioned.
"Masochists," the shadow corrected.
"How rare..." In an odd way the Dark Lord seemed excited but he quickly sobered looking back to the Muggles as the shadow floated back, dissipating into the gloom. Crimson eyes narrowed as he looked at the huddled mass of flesh, growling softly. With a half smile he flicked his wand looking over the eight men he had selected for the first round. "Imperio," he murmured, focusing on the other eighteen before he glanced over at the Dursleys. It was Vernon's turn, he decided quickly. "Go..."
Voldemort kept his eyes on the first man, the one who had approached Vernon. He looked around confused at the Dark Lord's words but as two other Muggles with glazed eyes grabbed him and pushed him down, he cried out. Around the room the other men who had been spared the Imperio's touch echoed his cry. One of the other men hit him when he struggled and pathetically tried begging.
The smell of blood rose throughout the room, sweet and clinging and the Dark Lord swallowed, taking a moment to enjoy the taste before he turned his attention back to the tableau playing out before him. The blubber that was Harry's cousin was cowering, sobbing softly as it dawned on him that the Dark Lord probably wasn't going to be satisfied with just Vernon and so he was next and the woman was staring with wide eyes, her mind screaming incoherently at the evil that was here.
Voldemort altered his eyes, allowing himself to see the magical streams in his throne room even though it was only Muggles. The streams were churning, brilliant red tendrils that were the Imperio were wrapped tightly around eighteen of them and were whipping at the wild magic. The eight victims weak streams were being consumed and below everything was darkness. Beautiful... he thought as he leaned back, panting slightly to fully appreciate the taste and smells.
Red eyes closed as he concentrated, sealing way everything so that when Harry asked the Dark Lord could show his beloved true vengeance.
"See my vengeance, Beloved," Voldemort murmured as the men finished the first round.
All is as it should be, he thought, feeling a wave of pleasure pass through him and settle in his groin.
He would dream of Harry tonight.
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Quite a bit was cut from this chapter near the end.