Ficlety for niannah
Title: The Blood of your enemies
niannah wrote: You can write me some hot Voldemort. I don't care what rating, as long as you make me lust after the Dark Lord.
Pairing: Voldemort / Voldemort/Bellatrix and Voldemort/Narcissa implied, Harry/Cho and Voldemort/Cho implied
Note: Inspired by the icon I'm using at the moment.
Rating: R
There's something about the blood of your enemies that makes your body crave it and reject it at the same time. My mind hated needing the half-blood of the sodding Boy-who-lived. Harry Potter only lived because of his muggleborn mother and there's nothing special about him. That was why he managed to escape from me before, but he's not going to be able to do so now that we share that blood.
We've always been connected, but the bond is now stronger. I can see what he's thinking and I can also feel what he's feeling. I sense that anger boiling in his blood, I sense his fear and his hesitation. The boy sometimes is nothing but pathetic, but I must give it to him: sometimes he's brave and determined. I can sense that too now, although it disgusts me most of the time.
Then there's another thing he feels that I can feel through him: a thing that was long forgotten, but only because I haven't had a decent body for so long; because Bellatrix was locked up in Azkaban, because Narcissa put on the respectable mask and went away with Lucius Malfoy.
The boy feels lust, but unfortunately, of the naif kind. He really is pathetic sometimes, dreaming about some asian girl with long dark hair and bright eyes. He talks to her in his dreams, asks her to go to yule ball with him. She accepts and she kisses him. It's a chaste kiss, but it makes his blood pump against his veins more urgently. It's such a wonderful sensation that can only be compared to the thrill of executing the Avada Kedavra.
Bellatrix has long lost her looks and Narcissa is locked up in Malfoy's manor. The man hasn't lived this long by being stupid. So in the meantime I close my eyes and let my nemesis dream about the girl, trying to get the most out of it.
He doesn't know what hit him. He doesn't understand why the chaste kisses have changed. He still kisses the girl but now he runs his tongue over her lips and lets the tip slip inside before forcing her to open up for him. His hands, that once were simply linked with hers, are now roaming over the fabric of her skirt, rubbing against her bottom and going down until they find the hem, only to make their way back up but against her skin now.
The torrent of blood burns inside him and inside me as he presses his body against hers, feeling the delightful pain in his crotch as he rubs it against her chaste cotton knickers.
The boy usually wakes up before it gets really interesting, but it's enough to get my blood burning as I wrap my hands against my flesh. It feels good to have a body again, and as I pretend it's Potter's dream girl wrapping her mouth around it, I let the lust in our blood run free, until I feel like Dumbledore's stupid Phoenix, nearly turning to ashes again.
And I know that somewhere inside Hogwarts the boy's scar stings and burns. And Harry Potter knows the Dark Lord is glad.
THE END
x Mistakes are all mine :)
x Harry Potter is JKR's and she'd never write something like this (I hope).
niannah wrote: You can write me some hot Voldemort. I don't care what rating, as long as you make me lust after the Dark Lord.
Pairing: Voldemort / Voldemort/Bellatrix and Voldemort/Narcissa implied, Harry/Cho and Voldemort/Cho implied
Note: Inspired by the icon I'm using at the moment.
Rating: R
There's something about the blood of your enemies that makes your body crave it and reject it at the same time. My mind hated needing the half-blood of the sodding Boy-who-lived. Harry Potter only lived because of his muggleborn mother and there's nothing special about him. That was why he managed to escape from me before, but he's not going to be able to do so now that we share that blood.
We've always been connected, but the bond is now stronger. I can see what he's thinking and I can also feel what he's feeling. I sense that anger boiling in his blood, I sense his fear and his hesitation. The boy sometimes is nothing but pathetic, but I must give it to him: sometimes he's brave and determined. I can sense that too now, although it disgusts me most of the time.
Then there's another thing he feels that I can feel through him: a thing that was long forgotten, but only because I haven't had a decent body for so long; because Bellatrix was locked up in Azkaban, because Narcissa put on the respectable mask and went away with Lucius Malfoy.
The boy feels lust, but unfortunately, of the naif kind. He really is pathetic sometimes, dreaming about some asian girl with long dark hair and bright eyes. He talks to her in his dreams, asks her to go to yule ball with him. She accepts and she kisses him. It's a chaste kiss, but it makes his blood pump against his veins more urgently. It's such a wonderful sensation that can only be compared to the thrill of executing the Avada Kedavra.
Bellatrix has long lost her looks and Narcissa is locked up in Malfoy's manor. The man hasn't lived this long by being stupid. So in the meantime I close my eyes and let my nemesis dream about the girl, trying to get the most out of it.
He doesn't know what hit him. He doesn't understand why the chaste kisses have changed. He still kisses the girl but now he runs his tongue over her lips and lets the tip slip inside before forcing her to open up for him. His hands, that once were simply linked with hers, are now roaming over the fabric of her skirt, rubbing against her bottom and going down until they find the hem, only to make their way back up but against her skin now.
The torrent of blood burns inside him and inside me as he presses his body against hers, feeling the delightful pain in his crotch as he rubs it against her chaste cotton knickers.
The boy usually wakes up before it gets really interesting, but it's enough to get my blood burning as I wrap my hands against my flesh. It feels good to have a body again, and as I pretend it's Potter's dream girl wrapping her mouth around it, I let the lust in our blood run free, until I feel like Dumbledore's stupid Phoenix, nearly turning to ashes again.
And I know that somewhere inside Hogwarts the boy's scar stings and burns. And Harry Potter knows the Dark Lord is glad.
THE END
x Mistakes are all mine :)
x Harry Potter is JKR's and she'd never write something like this (I hope).