A/N: I can't stop writing this, story, it's pretty damn amazing, I literally can't, I think about it for a good part of each day, and I have a lot more written than I post, so far, so, this definitely won't be a one-shot, as I originally thought it might be. Oh! I was also surprised that two reviewers of my other stories reviewed this one! I mean, that's awesome, and I appreciate it, but this is different stuff than I usually write. My other stories might have some of this kind of thing woven in, but this is a straight out dark fic, you know? Not too much plot, but lots of sadistic crap and so on and so forth. Do I ever make any sense? I just babbled. Sorry. I'll answer the reviews now.

She Pukes Glitter: EEE! Hehe, I'm posting, be happy, and thank you! Have to hurry to post, so not much answering time.

James Skye!! I was rather surprised you read this. I don't want to, I don't know, scare you off, so be warned! This story is Sick! capital s. Or Sadistic! also a capital s. I was just wondering though, how is this calm? I could probably use a lot of adjectives to describe this story, but calm just doesn't come to mind. But I'm glad you liked it, and thanks for the review. You were warned, mind you.

akuma-river!!!! And you read it! I'm going to have to warn you, too, this is like a torture-fest/sadist-fest/among other things-fest, it's not exactly like my other stories. I am rather amazed you liked it, but thank you very much, I appreciate it. It's not really related to "Even the Light can Die out", the only real connection is that Hades is in this one, and Harry doesn't know him until he sees him in the dungeon, so this is an entirely separate thing.

WARNING for all those offended by torture, or you just don't like it, whatever, there is actual torture in this chapter.

Without further rambling, I give you, chapter two.

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"What are you…?" Harry trailed off, eyes widening as with a sharp click, his handcuffs were undone. He winced slightly, rubbing his wrists, look wearily around, eyes resting on Hades. I didn't mind. Hades was worth a look or two, that's for sure. You don't get too many drop dead gorgeous men these days.

The first words that would come to mind when looking at Hades would have to be: Exotic, gorgeous, and unnerving as Hell. His eyes were probably the most noticeable feature about him, large, silver eyes with a black slit for a pupil that seemed to glow, sometimes more than others. Of course, his hair is pretty enticing, too. It's incredibly long for a man, all the way down to a perfect ass, a deep ebony black that gleams and when touched, is silky and smooth, the softest hair I've ever touched. Right now he was wearing it down, so that it flowed behind him where he leaned against the wall. His skin is incredibly pale, flawless, smooth, perfect. His lips are full and the color of peaches, and behind those lips are ivory fangs that can, and have, killed a man, and many a woman as well. He always looks at least mildly amused, and he's often grinning broadly. Does he sound feminine to you? He isn't. He's unmistakably male from any angle, and no one would ever mistake him as otherwise. He moves with a cat like grace, like he has so many more muscles than you awkward humans. He is lithe, muscled, but not overly so, and there's no existing fat anywhere on his body. Believe me, I would know.

But enough about Hades.

"Yes, he's amazingly beautiful, now let's move on."

Harry blushed. "I wasn't…."

Hades' grin widened, if possible. "Not too obvious, Harry."

Harry shook his head, and seemed to be about to say something, but I interrupted once again. "Enough. Choose your weapon."

He looked at me, at Hades, then back to me, as if still waiting for one of us to say, "Just kidding!".

"You don't make any sense," he said helplessly. "Why would you give me a weapon?" Yet he was walking toward me all the same, eyes on the Wall.

I heaved a large sigh. "Damn, Potter, you'd think that at this point you'd just grab a weapon and try and off me. But no, you have to know why."

"I was going to get one after the first invitation, I just wanted to know why first," he said coolly. "I'm not stupid, Malfoy."

"I would hope not," I said mildly, walking towards him. I had known he would take a weapon. I had not known Harry Potter for all these years to underestimate him now.

"You never told me why you're doing this," he said quietly, holding a dagger ready. Even now, he wants an even fight, I, with a butcher knife, and he, a dagger. But a dagger is not only a killing weapon; it is also a weapon for pain. I approve.

"Several reasons," I said as I began to cross the room to him. "But not now. Now, we fight."

"You're going to just take the chance that I won't kill you?" he asked, as we began to circle each other.

I laugh softly. Even if I was that easily killed, I would have chanced it. There is no time I feel more alive than this, unless I am dealing out pain to others. It would be worth dying to me, because I would rather have a life like this, even if death is the price I have to pay. "I'll chance it."

He is completely in step with me, though his eyes flick to Hades, not only being distracted by him, but keeping him in sight. You don't ever turn your back fully on someone you don't know or trust. Ever. I was glad he understood that rule.

"I'll say this, though," I said as I kept my eyes perfectly trained on him. "I want to see what makes you so special. What keeps you alive, but brings death to everyone around you."

His face tightened, and I knew he was thinking of all the deaths that had happened around him, casualties of war, among other things. That Weasley boy, Ron, his best friend, who was it that killed him? Him and all of his family, in one night, it must have been a good number of Death Eaters to do that…and his godfather, a while back, Sirius Black, his parents, of course, Hell, even Dumbledore, and many more that I don't have the time to name.

"Don't you get sick of death?" I lowered my voice to a half-whisper. "Even when you dream you can't escape it. I've seen you, tossing and turning, screaming."

Harry stopped circling and came for me, slashing wildly.. "Don't you dare talk to me about that!" On the last word, he lunged, and though I could have used whatever strength or supernatural power, I didn't, and he caught me twice, once on my arm, and once on my cheek. While he was slashing at my arm, he foolishly left his entire left side open, and I hacked at it easily to prove it.

He gasped, doubling over, clutching his side. I watched in satisfaction as blood squeezed out from in between his fingers, and began to pool beneath him, the sound of dripping blood loud in the silent room. "Sonuvabitch!"

I smiled sweetly. "Me?" I walked over to him, where he was now crouched, still clutching the wound. Perhaps deeper than I might have thought. I crouched down beside him. "Now why would you think that?" I caught some of the dark liquid that was sliding down my face with a finger, and slid it slowly into my mouth, as he watched, struck silent. I smiled again, because even through the haze of pain he was in, he couldn't take his eyes off of me. I slid it back out again, and cradled his face in my hands, and stared into those large emerald eyes.

"Lesson number one, Harry. You can't let emotion effect how you fight."

I caught both of his blood stained hands, and held them as he struggled. "Struggle away, Harry, it will only make it hurt more."

Instead of relaxing, he struggled wildly. "Get off! What the fuck are you doing!"

"Kissing it better," I whispered, and lowered my mouth to the slit in his side. I ran my tongue on the naked nerves of the flesh, the bare straining muscle. Oh, Merlin, the taste of his blood…I would never forget it. Exquisite, sweet, metallic, I could drink all day and never grow tired of it.

He twitched, and I think his mind meant for his body to squirm away, but it rose up of its own accord to meet me. I bit down, into the soft flesh, and he gasped, trying not to cry out. I slid my mouth across the torn flesh, imprinting the taste in my mind forever.

But as my will and thoughts had made it, the bleeding was starting to slow, it would soon close. Couldn't have him passing out. Damn.

"Salt, Hades," I said, close enough that my breath blew out into the thin mess of nerves, flesh, and blood. Harry shivered. I waited, amused, for him to say something, to tell me to stop, swear at me, say anything, but he didn't. Could it be, the famous Harry Potter, a closet masochist? The falling to his knees a different reaction than I had thought? Perhaps there was more I needed to know about him.

Surely you know what I mean. To every person, there are two faces. The face they present to the world, and the face that most try and hide, suppress, or ignore. The face that peeks out at times, be it rage, lust, violence, any sort of darkness. The difference between you and I is that I stopped trying to hide that side of me, and maybe my side was darker, larger than others. I stopped pretending and embraced it.

Hades tossed me a large can of iodized salt. Iodized salt always burns more than regular table salt, though both have their appeal. "This is so fucking unfair, that I get to watch while you get to take him apart bit by bit before my very eyes."

"You'll have your turn Hades," I promised. "Be glad I'm sharing my prize with you at all."

"You only are because you know it'll screw him over more," Hades pointed out.

I shook my head, not denying it, just not wanting to talk now.

"What are you doing?" Harry breathed.

"This," I said simply, and unscrewed the cap, and poured a generous amount of salt into the open wound. There was those three seconds, when you think the pain won't come, and the salt has to sink in, then his eyes widened as it began to work.

He tried to move away, but it was out of fear of something, himself, maybe. I pressed my hands to the mound of salt, and his mouth opened in a soundless scream, tears streaming down his cheeks. It was like he could feel the pain, and hate it, but at the same time enjoy it, maybe just a little. Maybe more than a little.

"God, Draco, God!" he cried, voice higher than was normal.

"Not only do I know for a fact you aren't Christian, but if you were, your God would have nothing to do with it."

He screamed, as the salt began to melt in with the blood, melting into the wound, tears still pouring down his cheeks. I watched him, unable to take my eyes away from him. He was so beautiful, but with his mouth wide open, a high, almost primal sound falling from his lips, eyes shining with tears that spilled down his pale cheeks, he was godly.

Harry started writhing on the ground, doing whatever he could to get away from it. "Don't!" he managed to breathe, but his nipples were hard, and I knew it wasn't from the cold. Now this was torture at its best. When your model, victim, whatever you wanted to call them, was in emotional pain, hating himself, half liking what was happening, and half of him in pure agony. How anyone could ever think to kill him was beyond me. What a fucking waste that would be.

"Needle," I said to Hades, my voice just a little hoarse. But whatever I was feeling, it was the furthest from regret you could ever get, don't think that I'm not loving every minute of this.

It was harder to throw a needle, even one this large, not enough weight, see. It's like throwing paper. So Hades strode up to me and handed it to me, crouching down beside me like I knew he'd been itching to do all along.

"Satan," he whispered, eyes roaming all over his body. A feeling of possessiveness spread through me, and I stared at him coldly. "Back away, Hades."

He shook his head. "You think you're going to have him all to yourself, you couldn't be more wrong. I'll back away, but I won't leave him to you."

"Fine," I snapped. "Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want, but I'll be watching, so don't get carried away and kill him."

Hades eyed me just as coldly, and I knew I had been wrong. "I would never kill him. His pain is worth more to me than death ever could."

I agreed, and nodded. Then I stared down at his tear streaked face. "Stop," he whispered. "Stop." I smiled. I had made him beg, or get as close to it as he maybe ever could.

I bent down, but made sure he saw the needle. "See this?"

"Fuck you," he said, a little louder than before.

"Is that an invitation?" I stared down, amused. "I just might."

He buried his head in his hands, but I could hear him hyperventilating.

"Was it the invitation bit, or is someone afraid of needles?"

"Please don't, please, please, don't." His voice was slightly muffled by his hands, but that was probably the most begging anyone had ever gotten from him, which just added to the haze of happiness, aliveness, among other things, that I was already in.

"Ready, Harry? In goes the needle!" I speared the skin deliberately, and then came out on the other side.

"Fuck!" he gasped out. "I fucking hate you, you sick bastard!"

I paused. "Did I hear a lie in that sentence?"

Hades grinned, and I knew as a full demon, he could smell lies. "You sure as Hell did."

I grinned, full out. "You don't hate me. And I bet that just – "

"Shut up!" he half-shouted. "Shut. Up!"

"I think I hit a nerve," I whispered loudly, so Harry could hear me perfectly, to Hades. Well, in more than one way.

I could hear rather than see, because my eyes were all for Harry, the grin in Hades' voice. "Why, I'd have to agree with you, Draco."

"This makes for interesting possibilities," I said thoughtfully, smirking. "But for now – " I continued to sew up his arm, digging the large needle in as far as it could go.

Harry seemed to turn his attention to the needle. "You – you're sewing the salt into the wound!"

"Sure am," I agreed, laughing. "This will make for an interesting scar. Though I must say, it won't scar quickly, the skin will grow around and over the thread, making it so you'll have to rip that thick thread out, which will create another nasty wound. And this is a new project, so Satan knows what that shit load of salt will do to the healing process. I can't wait to see the blisters."

Harry looked seriously into my eyes, and you know what I saw? Someone that wanted to hate me, knew he should, knew I so very deserved it, but didn't. Maybe he couldn't? I'd look into it later.

"When does this end?"

I smiled. "I was waiting for you to ask that question." I leaned in to whisper in ear. "Never."

"What!" he drew back, shocked.

"Well, technically it ends when we say it ends, but, and I think Hades will agree with me on this one, you're just too much damn fun to have this end. So, we've decided to keep you alive, far as I know." I looked at Hades, and he gave a nod, grinning, as always.

"But – but when do I leave? Is it something you want?"

I laughed, and Hades joined me. "See, here's where we differ from most torturers. There's no information, no person, no possession, no amount of money that you can give us to make this end. We do it because we live for it, love it, Hell, we're good at what we do."

"When do I leave?" he whispered desperately.

"You don't."

He slid down the floor, pure shock on his face.

Enjoying myself immensely, I add, "And we have all the tools, all the blood replenishing potions, and all the right things to make it last forever."

Harry stared up at me, not wanting to believe me, wanting, I'll bet, more than anything, for me to say, "Oh, what the Hell, you can go home now." Disbelief, hopelessness, and a misery so deep it had no end, shone on his face. Whether it was misery at what was happening, or misery having to do with some complicated emotional shit, we had yet to find out.

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A/N: See? I updated quickly, because people did review. If more people review, I could post a chapter a day. Review, please.