Twisted Desire

Please read TWISTED LUST, before proceeding with this story. It's the first part, and without it nothing will make sense, and it really adds dimensions to this one.

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To say she was scared would have been an understatement. But it was best to not let it show, after all, that’s what they had been taught to do. So, the maid carefully went about making her way to the door, to an exit, away from this raving man who was intent on attacking everything within his reach. The maid didn’t know who he was, and all for the better. Otherwise, this story would have made the evening papers.

She was almost there, so close and so content, as her hand grasped the cold handle of the door, her means of escape, a harsh voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“Wait! Stop!” a hoarse voice barked out after her, a voice which sounded slightly scratched, most likely due to a large amount of screaming done earlier, so damaging to the vocal chords.

The maid slowly spun around, trying to push past all her fears and not stare at the wreckage within the midst of the room.

The tall man with messy raven black hair approached her, she noted he would be quite handsome if it wasn’t for the perpetual look of anger and worry that seemed to have been etched into his features. As he got closer and closer, she could smell the faint lingering of brandy or gin, never less, the key was not to panic.

The man leaned down closer, so his mouth was almost straight at the maid’s ear.
“Fetch me brandy” he commanded, slightly swaying, his stance faltering.

She gave a timid nod, and quickly turned to the door once again, when he grabbed her arm. She turned slightly afraid, not bothering to hide this emotion. He stared at her appraisingly, and her eyes slowly shifted to the ceiling, lingering briefly on a peculiar scar on the man’s forehead, a bizarre kind of lightning thing.
With a sigh he released her arm, mumbling a brief “not you” and turning.

“Now LEAVE!” he screamed out again. And the maid did nothing but comply.

How was this possible, how on the fucking earth had she managed to escape, to live? Oh he had been sure she was dead, almost a hundred percent positive, but that tape. …

That tape was the epitome of danger, of his damnation if she survived. Because either way, if she was dead or alive, it still led to one thing, she knew.

And he would be damned if he let her run free, not again.


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“How much will you pay me?” the greasy man behind the counter asked, slowly counting through his fat bag of galleons.

“However much you want, just open that damned casket for me.”

The man stared up at Harry, contemplating the offer.

“100 galleons, and no less.”

“Fine, fine, just take the damned money and open it already.”
He threw a bag onto the counter, pacing back and forth quickly.

“in a rush” the man stated obliviously.

“Yes, I know I am in a rush, so why are you not opening it!” Harry said menacingly, slowly augmenting his voice.

“Alright ‘right, follow me.”

The man led Harry through a set of hallways, long and never ending, winding past room after room of bodies waiting to be buried. Of course there were many, land was hard to come across, those that paid were those that found a final resting place.

They walked in silence, their footsteps resounding off every wall.
“Ah, this one, this is the one” the man repeated to himself, pulling out a set of keys from his back pocket.

Harry shuffled his feet impatiently at the man rifted through the keys.

“Could you go any faster, or are you cursed to being slow and demented?”

The man glanced slightly at Harry, choosing not to reply to his insinuations.
“Is a silly thing”

“What”

“Playin with the dead, is better to jus leave them in peace”

Harry shot the man a violent look, his fists slowly curling.
“Did I pay you to talk and question me, or did I pay you to open that” he pointed quickly “door?”

“Jus giving my advice is all, here, you’re beloved door is open.”

Harry pushed the man aside and strode into the room, glaring up at the coffin which adorned the room, casting a macabre presence. He brought it down, while the man watched from the frame of the door, curiosity alight in his eyes.

Harry went about unlocking the sides, undoing the final closing of a body. Setting his long, black cloak over the shiny emblem that read “Hermione Malfoy,” he would never, ever like that name, it should have been Granger. It could have been Weasley, it could have been Potter, but never Malfoy. The casket was tightly sealed.

He pounded at the sides, his black gloves curled up neatly, the leather ready to strike. And finally, with a hollow pop, the top cover of the casket unhinged.

The man by now was torn, torn between the idea of witnessing what had entranced this Potter fellow and torn between the idea that he might just get a glimpse at a shriveled corpse. Not a sight he particularly relished at this time of the night, or any time of the night for that matter.

Harry gracefully slid his fingers along the edges, afraid of what might be inside, or well….. He just had to open it.

Quickly.

And with that he threw the casket off, and the morgue was filled with an angry cry, so angry in fact, it could have scared the dead.

“WHERE IS THE BODY!?” he ran over to the man, shaking him violently.
“IS IT CUSTOM FOR YOU TO BURY THINGS WITH NOTHING IN THEM?!”

“I, I didn’t, I didn’t kno-”

“WHERE DID THIS BODY GO, THERE IS NOTHING THERE” he punched the man square in the jaw, staring blindly in a fit of anger and hatred, unaware of what he was really doing.

“And the other casket, the other casket, where is it, where did it go?!”

“It was shipped out sir, it was buried, the body was buried” the man struggled to say as he tried to hold back the blood that poured freely from his nose.

“ENOUGH. ENOUGH OF YOUR LIES, IT IS YOUR FAULT, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.”

And with that, he drew his wand, and cast the curse which had taken so many from him, the brilliant green light reflecting off his own emerald green eyes.


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When he entered the bank that day, once again he had to pay exorbitant sums to find out a little information. The goblins knew better than to mess with Potter, and he walked straight up to the scummiest man he could find, the easiest ones to bribe and receive favors from.

The man took him into a private room, hidden to the common eyes, tucked away by the entrance to the vaults.

“So what can I do for you today sir” the man said greedily, grabbing at the bag of galleons he kept firmly lodged in his hands.

“You remember the Malfoys’?”

“The Malfoys….. Ahh yes, the attractive couple. Such a tragic tragic event, he was a great banksman, very good at what he did, very good people skills. And the wife, well what can you say about her, we were all waiting for the day she would leave him and come to us. Very powerful, very tragic.”

“Uh, yes. That couple. I need details.”

“Details? What are you speaking of?”

“I need records from the past month, I need to know if any funds have been drawn.”

“Mister Potter, that is very private, that is the utmost confi-”

The man was cut short as another bag of galleons landed on the table.

“Just get me the information.”

“Very well, I will see what I can do”

The man left for a while, and Potter impatiently observed the room, observed the pictures on the wall. One of them from the ball, the last time he had ever seen her, seen them.
Potter got up and walked up to observe it, immediately becoming bewitched by her, the way she looked up at him, a half smile, observing him silently. And Malfoy, yes he hadn’t noticed Malfoy, looking at her with utmost admiration. It was a bleak thought for Harry, but he was quickly rejoiced at the notion that Malfoy was dead, and Hermione would have to forage alone without him.

“Mister Potter” the man’s voice cut him from his thoughts.

“Yes” he replied, not turning to face him.

“It appears some of the funds have been extracted quite recently, it looks like they were extracted this morning.”

Harry quickly spun around.

“What did you say? This morning”

“yes, this morning at 9, very early for banking don’t you think?”

“Oh yes, did it say who extracted it?”

“No, nothing here at all. Not even a signature, but I did hear some gossip about a very pretty lady coming in to extract funds around nine today, perhaps that's who it was”

“Thank you” was all he could manage to expel as he ran out of the office into the prime of diagon alley. He knew her, he knew she wouldn’t move very quickly, by any luck, she would still be around. So, he set out on the hard path of trying to locate her, asking everyone he could stop if they had seen a woman matching her description.


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By nightfall, he had lost hope. He had literally been in every single store, talked to every single person, even ventured off into Knockturn to see if he could find her. But to no avail, all he managed to find were a few timid people, some drunks who had no idea what they were saying, and not a trace of that girl.

He was on the verge of becoming violent, not that it was in his nature.

Right.

With angry steps he threw the door open into the Leaky Cauldron, just daring any of the sad drunks to fuck with him, just try. No, he wasn’t in the mood for anyone, for light banter, or faked smiles.

“Make it a scotch, a double” Harry said to the bartender carelessly wiping down the counters. The bartender took a glance at the man, recognizing who it was, and immediately associating him with recent events. Should he say anything?

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss Mr. Potter” the bartender whispered quietly, setting the glass of scotch down in front of him.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge him, just sipped his scotch quietly, trying hard not to strangle anything, his eyes downcast, appearing over the rim of the glass.

With a last effort he looked up at the bartender, “tell me Tom, how has business been today?”

“Oh, you know, the usual the usual, fair bit of customers entering and leaving, the same crowd as always, just a few new faces.”

“Anyone familiar, you know, my age, school age?”

“No, not that I recall. That crowd tends to stay away from here, especially with the events that are happening.”

“I’ll need a room for the night, that is, if the others aren’t full”

“of course Mr. Potter, sir, only one room is occupied at the moment, there are quite a few that are empty. Will you be needing me to carry anything?”

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to tell me who’s in that one room, would you?” he asked, ignoring the bartender’s question.

“Confidentiality helps us run business Potter”

“Not even for a spare set of galleons”

“I don’t need them Potter, I’m happy with what I have”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the bartender, clearly the man would not easily succumb to the charms of money.

“But what if, what if all that money just disappeared, what if something happened to you and those spare set of galleons could save you.”

“Are you threatening me Potter”

“No, no no, don’t have to get so defensive. Just making a point”

The bartender regarded Potter once again, observing the malevolent gleam in his eyes, sizing him up.

“I don’t know who it is, their face was masked the entire time. Guessing it’s a woman, but what’s it to you. Looked like an old hag that person did.”

“It’s nothing, now give me the key”

The bartender took a moment, and with a slight nod turned and handed Harry a key,
“safety isn’t assured”

“yes, I know that”
And with those last words, he silently made his way to the creaky staircase, ignoring the curious look the bartender gave him as he exited.

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This was too easy, way too easy. That’s all Potter could think as he threw himself down on the bed. Regardless of what the bartender said, he knew there had to be a strange coincidence. It was no mistake, it was no random occurrence. And if his suspicions were correct, that “old hag” might just be his prey.

He laughed to himself, a dark, hollow laugh. This really was easy, how stupid could she be. Well, best not to get too carried away, best to check out if he was right.

He glanced at the clock, 1 am it read, now was the time to act. He went over and grabbed his black cloak, camouflaging into the shadows. Stepping ever so slightly out of his room, the leaky cauldron wasn’t big, there were so few rooms, it wouldn’t be hard to find.

He peered down the narrow corridor, not a sign of life. Stealthily creeping from room to room, pressing his ear against the impending silence of each door. And finally, at last, he heard the slight rustle of sheets. Carefully, opening the door, thanks Hermione for teaching me that spell, he thought to himself. And quickly stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

And there, lying on the bed, enshrouded in darkness lay the very much alive body of Hermione Mal- no, Hermione Granger.

Inside his blood started to boil, why not just kill her now. However, he had devised a plan, he smirked inwardly. Trying not to make a noise, he was right, everything always went his way in the end, didn’t it?

His shoes shuffled over to where she lay, his eyes drinking in her body, the parts which were not covered by sheets, after all, it was still a cold night in January. His temperature rose, the most blatant object of desire lay before him. How stupid could she be, didn’t she know he’d find her.

Bending down, he lent over her and kissed her full on the lips, his tongue gaining entrance, lightly playing with her own, she reciprocated without meaning to, nipping at his own soft lips. And as he pulled back, she moaned at the loss of contact.

“Draco” she whispered, still very much asleep.

“No” he said angrily. “Harry”
And with that he took the metal candlestick on her nightstand and whacked her on the head unconscious.

It was at this precise moment that the bartender emerged into the room, wand at the ready, ready to stun that Potter so he could let her escape from him. But Potter was too quick, and he rapidly pulled his wand and cast the Avada, the second in a short span of time.

The man fell back to the ground, and Potter went to grab Hermione.
His last thought being

Why was this so easy?





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So, the story is back.
I know this first chapter seemed a bit slow, maybe boring.
But I had to set it up for what's to come next.

The only question i leave with is
Why was it so easy for him to find her?
The answers in the next chapter, or the one after that.

read review. thanks a million to all of you who read
Twisted Lust.