Hogwarts'Professors/addiction/bardiclog
Title: A Deadly Addiction
Claim: Hogwarts' Professors
Prompt: 206.Addiction
Rating: Not sure what it should be, so on the safe side with NC-17
Summary: Barty Crouch Jr's murder of his father
Warnings: Inflicting pain for enjoyment. Also somewhat rambling, as its Crouch, Jr., in first person.
Word count: 549
There was that man, that man who took it all away from me and dared to call himself my father, who locked me up where they stole away every snatched pleasure and how did he dare to tell Harry Potter, my Harry Potter, my task, that he was the one who had lost something, when he was the one who threw it all away and never cared?
And wouldn't it be delicious to see him write in pain, to use him to taste the very things he thought were unforgivable, that he had sent away his own blood for . . .
I slipped into Moody, second nature now - seemed reasonable, concerned, and like him, I think - but I could not help darting a quick bit of moisture to lips gone dry with thinking of how it would be to see his face crumpled in exquisite torture . . . and he saw, and his eyes caught suspicion, and there was no choice, as soon as I could I would have to kill him before he told, and so I took the first chance, by now my hands were trembling and the whole of me was ready for this, yearning, shaking.
“Imperio,” I managed through a mouth dry with anticipation, he turned and looked at me like a dumb fawn, power coursed through me and I barely choked back a laugh, he was mine, mine to do what I pleased with, and I made him follow me where none would see, where I could enjoy.
And then I made him beg, apologize for what he did, beg forgiveness, the Cruciatis, anything I could think of to make him twist those perfect knees into the dirt and mud, and I felt his mind resisting, twisting and bucking in mine, and clamped down hard and harder, laughing at its futility.
Mine.
Without effort, my wand came up and my lips uttered "Crucio," and then I rode the wave of his pain and agony; he was still helpless and screaming and I just remembered to put up the sound block in time, and then I could scream too, and each scream was "Crucio", over and over, the thrill getting more and more.
How did I get by without this, with this only on spiders, without the delicious wild flavor of human pain, suffering? "Crucio." Scream and pain combined in me, made it all one reverberating experience, lifted me high, higher . . .
"Avada Kedava."
And instantly all was still; I was still pulsing in the afterglow of the Unforgivables, finally allowed to live them through their potential, with no whining brats to interrupt.
And he was dead. Bane of my existence, but such a lovely time, not as strong as some but enough, and I touched his cheek and smiled at him and wondered if anyone would think I was being loving, but that was the best thing he had ever given me, those moments of relief. For a moment, I was sorry he was gone - easiest victim, easiest outlet, let me keep practicing Imperius - but not enough, not strong enough.
Soon - soon Potter would be mine, all mine to present to our Lord, and then I would be rewarded, and my appetite fully satiated - soon, my merciful Lord would bless me - soon I would be satiated - soon, soon, soon.
Claim: Hogwarts' Professors
Prompt: 206.Addiction
Rating: Not sure what it should be, so on the safe side with NC-17
Summary: Barty Crouch Jr's murder of his father
Warnings: Inflicting pain for enjoyment. Also somewhat rambling, as its Crouch, Jr., in first person.
Word count: 549
There was that man, that man who took it all away from me and dared to call himself my father, who locked me up where they stole away every snatched pleasure and how did he dare to tell Harry Potter, my Harry Potter, my task, that he was the one who had lost something, when he was the one who threw it all away and never cared?
And wouldn't it be delicious to see him write in pain, to use him to taste the very things he thought were unforgivable, that he had sent away his own blood for . . .
I slipped into Moody, second nature now - seemed reasonable, concerned, and like him, I think - but I could not help darting a quick bit of moisture to lips gone dry with thinking of how it would be to see his face crumpled in exquisite torture . . . and he saw, and his eyes caught suspicion, and there was no choice, as soon as I could I would have to kill him before he told, and so I took the first chance, by now my hands were trembling and the whole of me was ready for this, yearning, shaking.
“Imperio,” I managed through a mouth dry with anticipation, he turned and looked at me like a dumb fawn, power coursed through me and I barely choked back a laugh, he was mine, mine to do what I pleased with, and I made him follow me where none would see, where I could enjoy.
And then I made him beg, apologize for what he did, beg forgiveness, the Cruciatis, anything I could think of to make him twist those perfect knees into the dirt and mud, and I felt his mind resisting, twisting and bucking in mine, and clamped down hard and harder, laughing at its futility.
Mine.
Without effort, my wand came up and my lips uttered "Crucio," and then I rode the wave of his pain and agony; he was still helpless and screaming and I just remembered to put up the sound block in time, and then I could scream too, and each scream was "Crucio", over and over, the thrill getting more and more.
How did I get by without this, with this only on spiders, without the delicious wild flavor of human pain, suffering? "Crucio." Scream and pain combined in me, made it all one reverberating experience, lifted me high, higher . . .
"Avada Kedava."
And instantly all was still; I was still pulsing in the afterglow of the Unforgivables, finally allowed to live them through their potential, with no whining brats to interrupt.
And he was dead. Bane of my existence, but such a lovely time, not as strong as some but enough, and I touched his cheek and smiled at him and wondered if anyone would think I was being loving, but that was the best thing he had ever given me, those moments of relief. For a moment, I was sorry he was gone - easiest victim, easiest outlet, let me keep practicing Imperius - but not enough, not strong enough.
Soon - soon Potter would be mine, all mine to present to our Lord, and then I would be rewarded, and my appetite fully satiated - soon, my merciful Lord would bless me - soon I would be satiated - soon, soon, soon.