And the Sins We Have Committed
An episode at the beginning of Quirrell's association with Voldemort that underscores exactly what and whom Quirrell has acquiesced to.
I looked at the witch's still form on the bed with a sort of frozen fascination. I had at last been allowed to take her up on the invitation her smile in the inn's hallway had offered and it had been...an experience.
It turned out she had certain proclivities, and she was the one who had shown me how to cast the targeted Impediment jinx on the inspiratory muscles of her abdomen to stop breathing for short periods of time. The jinx had been like a switchblade, incisive and feathery, with spicy notes of clove and the mellow undertones of fresh-cut grass. I had been so distracted by the novel ability to smell the spell construct that I had almost missed it when she told me what the safe word was.
I could try to claim that I had misheard it, I suppose. That I didn't recognize it when she began to gasp it out, true fear beginning to replace the delicious sexual thrill of dangerous-but-not. But then, I don't know how I defend casting Langlock to prevent her from finishing the word. How I defend watching that sensuous mouth convulse to utter stillness beneath me. How I defend wanting to.
You don't, Quirinushko. Why should you?
I shuddered. Had it been my desire to see that, or his? Or even Nagini's? That dual familiar bond we shared with Voldemort was an unknown variable.
A small voice inside me whispered, Does it really matter now? Look at the consequences of your action.
Voldemort's presence rose inside me like the tide, rippling over the stony blights of conscience. You desired her. You took her. And now Nagini is hungry. It is a simple solution to this situation.
Horror and revulsion gagged me at the suggestion. That's so terribly wrong.
Wrong is such a subjective word. Amused disdain held the bridles of logic. It is wrong for Nagini to have no pleasure tonight, too, don't you think? It is wrong to waste what has been provided.
His will was an electric current running through me, and the muscles of my neck unfroze enough to nod once. I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning. The small voice from before took on a subtle sneer. Did you think it would be summer forever? Winter is coming, and these are its first frosty breaths.
Poetic, Quirinus. And apt. I do so enjoy your mind.
A hot flood of pleasure slid through me at his compliment. I closed my eyes, ashamed suddenly of my response to recognition. So predictable and manipulable. So weak.
Visceral joy pierced my brooding thoughts, and my eyes snapped open. Nagini had begun her feast. A shock of sensation flooded me, the voluptuous slide of fresh, delicious meat down my throat, expanding, expanding...
I swallowed hard, grounding myself in my own perceptions, my own throat human and empty. Surely this was the work of that shared familiar bond. An icy curiosity overtook me then, as I probed that intriguing braid of magic inside me and felt its twin thrum in Nagini. Once again, I was plunged into the simple reptilian thrill of devouring my prey, still warm as it moved further inside me, filling the emptiness with a pure sensuality that was beyond satiation...
Well, winter was not without its chill pleasures, it seemed.
Approval like warm honey dripped through my mind. Exactly.