A Demented Tale
An epic love story between two dementors, with a bit of dementor sex-ed thrown in. Utterly tongue-in-cheek, and not to be taken at all seriously.
Jackson, the hero of our story, was born in what you would call extraordinary circumstances: he was born from five people at once.
You see, dementors aren't made like you and me, with the birds and the bees and the man and a woman with crashing waves and popped champagne. Dementors are born from mist, and air, and people feeling rather queasy and breathing in things they shouldn't. And when enough of these people (usually five, sometimes six) come together something special happens, something magical. They breathe in and out and in and out and then suddenly, all mixed together, a dementor is born!
Jackson was just one of those dementors, born in a pub down near the backend of London, and within the day two of his human parents had offed themselves from depression.
But Jackson wasn't depressed, oh no, not at all! Jackson was a happy little dementor, who enjoyed hanging around schoolyards, making children suicidal, and teachers sadistic.
But alas, Jackson did have a small, sad part of himself that he kept locked away.
You see, Jackson was in love.
His love was the most beautiful dementor on the block and thus Jackson knew she would never look his way! She was almost all bones, with only a tiny bit of really rotten skin clinging to her fingers. He mouth was cracked and bloody, and her robs were so tattered sometimes you thought you could see right through them! Oh she was a daring minx, that Rebecca, and she had already depressed fifteen people to death. She was the hottest slab of cold meat and bones around, and Jackson longed to spray his mist with her.
But she always just floated right past him, never looked his way with her gorgeous black holes, never even asked him how many he had depressed today.
Even for the most feared creatures of the wizarding world, unrequited love was a bitch.
"Jackson, meboy," Hagrid said one day (since Hagrid loved all things weird and wonderful, and had made friends with Jackson when Jackson tried a brief stint at guarding Hogwarts) "yuv got-ta TELL da girlz yah wantz her slimee cowd lurvin'."
And although it took Jackson a couple of minutes to figure out what on earth Hagrid had just said, he took his old friend's advice to heart. Or ribcage. Or…whatever.
So he took his courage in his bony hand, and some kid's heart in the other (discount sale, he was a sucker for bargins) for extra romance, and floated over to where Rebecca liked to hang.
"Rebecca…" he hissed, his breath rattling the window panes and causing the glass to ice, "I-I have something… to tell you."
"Yes…Jackson…" She said, pulling her cloak over her gaping maw coyly, twisting her tattered robes through her fleshless fingers.
"Rebecca I… I… I love you!" Jackson blurted out, and wished someone would cast a patronus on him, he was so embarrassed.
But then, to his eternal surprise…
"Oh Jackson, I thought you'd never admit it!" Rebecca sobbed, and threw herself into his dead embrace.
Yes, that's right! The popular, pretty Rebecca had secretly been in love with Jackson all this time! But underneath her tough, murderous exterior was a shy little soul-sucker who was just waiting for Jackson to make the first move!
"Oh Rebecca!"
"Oh Jackson!"
"Rebecca, will you spray your mist with me?"
"Oh Jackson…" Rebecca felt her joint crack happily, as she circled his sternum with her forefinger. "I thought you'd never ask."
And, heedless to the humans around them (they couldn't see them anyway) Jackson started to slowly pull Rebecca's robes off.
"Be gentle Jackson, it's my first time." Rebecca whispered, floating against a tree.
"Rebecca!" Jackson gasped, when her blackened scapula where revealed. "Rebecca!"
"They're too white, aren't they?" Rebecca sobbed, "I knew they looked too… too… healthy!"
"No Rebecca, you're beautiful." Jackson said earnestly, scratching against her ribs. "They're the most beautiful things I've ever seen." He was entranced by the sight of her glistening sternum, and longed to pull more of her robes off, to see her forbidden pelvis and maybe… he gulped, even her sacrum.
Then he was frantically tearing off his own robes, consumed with the desire to rub against her naked bones, to scrape and clink and feel the mist surround them, pattering against them, penetrating, enfolding, and pleasuring all at once.
"Yes! Yes!" Rebecca wailed as his phalanges rubbed against her sacrum. "OH JACKSOOOOOOON!"
"REBECCAAAAAA!" He screeched, at his limit.
A huge spurt of mist sprayed into the air, enveloping the humans around them. And, in the ecstasy of the moment, Jackson forgot all his training and, taking Rebecca's skull in his hands, kissed her firmly on the mouth.
"Jackson, no!" She cried, but it was too late. Her soul, collected by sucking fragments of other peoples, rushed out of her, and was consumed by Jackson. Jackson, realizing what he had done, reeled back from the bag of bones that clattered higgledy-piggledy to the ground, with no form to them, nothing to suggest that they had once been connected to form the most beautiful dementor he had ever known, his first and only love, Rebecca.
Anguish roiled within Jackson, and he finally understood the torment that the dementors had been putting wizards and muggles alike for centuries. Grief, raw and cutting, scalded through him, ripping out his hopes and dreams of happiness, and leaving him a skeleton of a being.
"Rebecca. Rebecca! Rebeccaaaaa!" He keened, but the world did not hear him. The mist thickened, hiding his grief from our prying eyes. All that was now left of their love was the tiny particles of dementor sperm, left hanging in the air.
"Shit, this is piss-nasty weather, isn't it?" One Londoner commented to the other.
"I reckon." The other replied.
The end.