Scars III

A/N: hey guys, i'm tyring to update at least once a week right now, though hopefulky i'll be getting a bit more done once this quarter ends


Chapter 10: Splendid Day

The fingers were trailing down his bare back. They were cold, like ice, but without the melting wetness.

The jagged edge of a broken fingernail scrapped over his skin making him wince with pain.

“What do you think Precious…a little lower? Uncle Arlen thinks so. Uncle Arlen thinks we should go just a little bit lower…”

The cold fingers were on his butt now. Precious winced as one of the cold digits was wedged between his clenched cheeks. He didn’t want this.

“There we go. That’s the spot, isn’t it Precious? Well, maybe just a little deeper.”

There was a harsh laughter when Precious gasped in pain. There were three fingers inside him now. Three and then four and they were doing things inside him. He could feel them squirming inside, slipping and sliding over his insides like worms in his stomach.

Precious felt his eyes burn and pushed his face deeper into the smelly mattress. He hated this part the most. Make it hurt and bleed. Make him scream or cry. But not this.

“Please,” he gasped into the mattress. Luckily Arlen didn’t hear. But that didn’t me he had stopped. No he continued what he was doing and it was Precious’s shame that this invasion within his body was making him…feel things. Like tendrils of fire, pain and pleasure mixed in his blood and he was getting hard in that place Arlen liked to smell.

“Yeah, that’s it Precious. Let’s see if we can’t make you like Uncle Arlen.”

And now there was another cold hand. It was so cold, and it was wiggling its way under his butt. Precious chocked back a sob as Arlen’s hand felt his hardness.

“There we go,” Arlen said and laughed. Precious tried not to scream in horror as Arlen flipped him over. He had known as soon as he was thrown on the bed what would happen. This was always the worst part. When the shackles were left were they lay. When he was spread out like a rug. When Arlen talked like this. It always meant that Precious was to be humiliated.

It was the worst punishment Precious could imagine. And it was about to happen all over again.

He could see Arlen now. His dark blond hair was splayed across his dirt incrusted face. The sweat on his forehead looked more like blood than the clear liquid that Precious produced.

Arlen bent his head, his nose ghosting over Precious’s crotch. “You smell so good,” Arlen whispered. Before Precious had time to consider what was about to happen Arlen had taken his hard little member into his wet mouth.

It felt like heaven and hell all at once. He knew he should be dead. He should be burning in hell for this. Because it made him feel so good. It was disgusting and paradise and he just wanted to die. The tears he shed landed on his chest. And Precious could feel the tendrils of nothingness tighten at the edges of his mind.

~~~~~

Harry sat up; his scream an alarm that never failed. Shaking his head to clear the remaining dream images from his mind Harry yawned deeply. It was well past midnight, almost dawn. Gathering his cloak from the table beside his bead Harry headed outside.

He stood outside the ship and lit his cigarette with the flickering flame of a lighter. Pausing he studied the lighter. It was metal, one side was inscribed ‘R. Q. L.’.

‘I wonder what body I stole this from?’ Harry mused as he took another drag from the fag. As he thought about it he realized that almost everything he owned, clothing not withstanding, was from some or another of the people he had killed.

‘Guess I’ve been busy,’ he thought. At one time the mental comment would have made him laugh. He didn’t laugh now. Had he truly changed so much? He no longer felt the fire of bloodlust in his veins like he once did. That longing to hear the crunch of bone had all but faded into nonexistence.

‘Does this mean…I’m more human now?’ this thought did make him laugh. But even the sound of his own laughter sounded alien to his ears. How long had it been since he listened to his own voice?

“What do I sound like?” he asked the predawn sky. It was as he had guessed, his voice had changed. Though he looked no older than fourteen, perhaps younger, he had the voice of someone far older.

Did these changes in himself mean the aging process had finally caught up with him? Perhaps but what worried him was that he had not noticed this before. How long had he been speaking with this deep voice. How long had he been ignorant of himself. Had he been ignoring other things as well?

These thoughts proved only to make Harry weary with himself. What did it mater really? But then again…if his awareness was failing…

~~~~~~~

Viktor watched his friend as he picked through his breakfast. Harry had been here before Viktor even arrived, which was odd considering Harry never ate anything.

Harry had never wavered in scrutiny of the room under Viktor’s stare. Only as the meal was ending did Harry look at him.

“Vhat’s going on?” Viktor asked, his voice low as though their conversation had to be kept a secret.

Harry shook his head but said, “A lot has changed. I was just taking note of the differences…”

“Anything I should knov?” Harry was making him nervous. The vampire never had that particular look to him unless there was something wrong.

“Just…I think there might be something off about the new defense teacher,” Harry said as they stood with the others to file form the room.

“You mean besides him being crazy?” an eavesdropper said with a laugh.

Harry scowled and shot a look at Viktor. Viktor understood. It wasn’t just that the teacher was odd; it was that there was something integrally wrong with him.

“Do you think it’s got to do vith the scar?” Viktor asked. Though Moody had many scars Harry would know he meant the scar he carried from Voldemort.

Harry shrugged. “It might, I’m not sure yet.”

“Don’t do anything stupid vithout telling me,” Viktor warned before letting the subject drop.

~~~~~~

Draco stared down at his intertwined fingers, waiting for the verdict.

“Draco,” his mother said, her voice that soft lilting melody of comfort and a warm embrace, “your father is gone. That miracle…that boy, changed everything. It doesn’t matter. It will never mater in this house…not ever again.”

Draco felt the world shift into place. Like glass clearing of fog. Like the sun’s appearance after a day of storm. The world was kind…not again, but finally.

Draco raised his eyes. He knew the emotion had made it obvious. There was nothing to hide what he had become. There was nothing left to hide truth from him. It was as all things should be…except for Harry, Dev, except for the vampire he was in love with.

Narcisisa’s smile shone silver in Draco’s vision. Like the radiance of the full moon…like freedom.

Draco turned his gaze onto his sister. His sweet innocent little Melinda. Such dark hair, long from years without cutting it. Eyes as silver as his own. Lips the shade of blood. And her skin, so pale from years imprisoned behind stone walls.

Draco opened his arms to the tiny child, waiting for acceptance. Without hesitation Mel climbed into his lap, snuggling her head against his chest.

“I love you,” Draco said, and even his own voice was calming. Such a voice as to make a full grown wizards tremble with the anticipation of experimentation, and the impending doom of Draco’s own death. Yet no fear filled him. Only solace. Because…he was fine. He would be fine. He had everything he could ever hope for…except...
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