The Night Side

Summary: Voldemort first tells Quirrell what he must do to keep them both alive.

Quirinushko...Quirinussssssssssshko...

The pet name floated softly in my mind, a slight hissing marring the gentle tone. I twitched at this disparity, my eyes creaking open in the dark. The phantom scent of apple cake wrapped around me, my favorite grandmother's voice sliding into something crueler and far more intimate.

"Please," I whispered. "Please don't."

I find emotional triggers so effective, little squirrel.

My eyes prickled before I could stop them, the plaintive thought trickling out. Why do you twist everything?

Amused satisfaction flicked through my mind, familiar as a whip. Because I can. And you have such extraordinary, intense feelings. I enjoy them.

I shivered, feeling naked.

Come now, we have no secrets between us. His pleasure at my discomfiture ran through me, sonorous and smelling of well-worked leather. Abruptly, it hardened, becoming tinged with cold iron. But to business now, given your continued failure to obtain what we need.

I shivered now for a different reason, and felt His amusement rippling through me again.

I have a stopgap measure for us until you succeed.

An image of a unicorn flashed in my mind.

Adult, approximately 15 hands high, horn approximately 30cm long, catalogued the clinical part of me. And what-

But suddenly I knew precisely what He wished me to do. No. No, I can't.

And why, pray tell, is that?

My breath hitched. It is wrong, so very wrong.

Haven't we discussed that useless word enough, little squirrel? Must we do so again? So tedious...so boooooring... That dangerous, singsong tone was eloquent of warning.

But...but...

His edged laughter coiled through me, sinuous and muscular. That word is a distinction imposed by the weak. There is only what can be done and what cannot be done. This can be done, and you will do it.

A whimper escaped me, and suddenly my senses were flooded with His wrath. An unholy roar shattered my ears, and my flesh was pierced by bitter cold, my eyes blinded by rapid starbursts in colors not meant for human sight, my nose and mouth assaulted by the stench of decomposition. An agonized keening provided a delicate, wrenching harmony beneath the storm, and I realized I was the one making it. Must not pass out...

All was suddenly still and quiet. No, can't have that, can we? We have work to do, Quirinushko.

I gasped into the silence, flayed by the stark contrast. Please...

Yes? The tone was magnanimous now, with a deceptive sheen of leniency.

Please, not that name. I will do as you wish. But please don't use that name.

Of course you will do as I wish. And I'll call you exactly what you need to be called.

Wetness stained my cheeks, but I held my tongue. No good would come of further protest.

Exactly so. Now come, little squirrel. The words whispered through me, a velvet caress smoothing away bloodied conscience and barbed recrimination. We have work to do tonight.

I crouched in the living darkness of the Forbidden Forest, turning the task over in my mind. The first part was likely to be the trickiest as it relied on a melding of our respective abilities, and a rather clever bit of sympathetic magic I had come up with.

A tendril of pride twined through me. It was His affinity for creatures at the extremes of the moral spectrum we would be amplifying, true, but it was my wand with its core of unicorn hair that would turn that attraction to the light side once we cast the adapted Entrancing charm.

The light side - how melodramatic of you, Quirinus.

Irreverence licked at me. You disapprove?

No. But I prefer to call it something else.

Oh?

The terribly boring side.

My lips twitched at this. Ah, yes. So, it's the terribly boring side we'll be amplifying, courtesy of my wand then.

His amusement flowed through me like spiced wine, fortifying and sweet. Precisely. Now then...

I stilled my thoughts as I began the mental construction of the charm, preparing for a non-verbal execution. With His strength thrusting through me, I forged the burning kernel, linking it to the heart of my wand. It expanded beautifully beneath my mental touch like blown glass, forming a curving tunnel, a brilliant cornucopia stretching out into the night. So easy, so laughably easy to create this celestial summoning with its inky core like spider webs and glistening scales, smelling of summer rain and peppermint and musky vanilla.

I sighed with the wicked pleasure of it, and waited. It didn't take long at all for a gorgeous beast to answer the call. White of skin, silver of horn, and gold of mane and hoof, it had an unearthly, storybook perfection to it. And it wandered blithely into our trap.

The cursed barrier sprang up, slick and impenetrable, with its distinctive bitter almond scent. The unicorn screamed in fear and anger, ramming the enclosure.

I watched its struggles. Poor beast. Only those marked by the Lord can pass through His barrier.

Disdain snapped along my skin. Pity is a weakness, Quirinus. And it costs time we don't have. That cry carried.

I know. It's just... so ferociously beautiful. Such a tragic waste.

I'll show you ferocious beauty, little squirrel.

Power whirled through me, a maelstrom cold as ocean deeps, and the petrification curse flowed from my mind with voluptuous grace. And it was, indeed, beautiful - a jagged fractal current with the weight of granite, smelling of nutmeg and larkspur, delivering a perfect rigor mortis to our victim.

With intoxicating precision and purpose, I slipped through the barrier and lifted my wand to begin the slicing motions of Sectumsempra. It was a dexterous and supple thing, the elegant movements of my hand echoed and amplified by the curving structure of the spell into surgical carvings along the pearly white skin. The blood flowed, rich and dark and sweet, its potent scent mingling with the citrus, ginger, and cayenne of the Sectumsempra.

This was ferocious beauty, it was undeniable.

I'm glad we agree. I've always thought so.

I blinked, staring at the prone and piteous form in front of me, the rush of power bleeding away, leaving me hollow. My god.

Yes?

But I had no words for the brutal savagery in front of me. I was frozen, as if I were the victim of petrification rather than part of its vile source.

Now, now, there's no need for such judgment. Vile is as vile does, Quirinushko.

I flinched at the intimacy of the name, its sensual undertones ripping through me as viciously as Sectumsempra.

A sigh of pleasure whispered along my skin. Such extraordinary emotions. Empathy is so interesting. Debilitating, however. And we don't have the time tonight to explore it further. Not here. Now is the time for action, Quirinushko. Draw near, and drink for us both.

Abject shame crippled my steps. I...I...

Come now, the deed is done. Would you waste this death? We'll have to find another tonight if you do.

Horror plucked along my bones. No, please...not another. I couldn't bear it.

Give yourself credit, little squirrel. You could and you would. And in fact, you will until you procure the Stone for us.

I shivered, the horror settling into my chest, heavy with inevitability.

But for tonight, Quirinushko, simply bend and drink. The words were coaxing and gentle as a siren's song, beckoning me to obey .

With my breath heaving silently and my eyes burning with tears, I did.