Lovely Bones
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
9,468
Reviews:
45
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
9,468
Reviews:
45
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Black Eyes
Having received the Dementor\'s kiss, he is without a mind, without a soul, and without hope.
And still, he is restrained, securely and inescapably.
His snow-white body is covered in blood.
His obsidian-black eyes are open in wonder.
The Dark Lord had always hated those eyes, even when he had thought that Severus Snape was on his side. The man could swear his loyalty, do terrible things to prove his worth, even killing his own mentor and friend... and yet, those eyes, they never seemed to be empty and devoid of life and passion, the way the eyes of other Death Eaters were.
Those eyes.. they are black, but not Dark.
And that\'s the crux.
The Dark Lord\'s hand holds a dagger in his hand. He runs it across the body of Severus Snape, over and over again, re-opening old scars, making blood flow in rivulets, burrowing deeper and deeper into the responsive, yet mindless flesh. The body flinches, shudders, bleeds...But those eyes... they never change. They keep gazing ahead in wonder, as if fascinated by the demise of the frail, battered body, as if mesmerized by the simple, primitive cruelty of the Dark Lord.
“Like what you see, Severus?” Voldemort laughs. He strikes the body with his hand. The body flinches. That is all.
“All your skill... all your intellect... all your passion... all your Occlumency training... and to think – you\'ve been reduced to this.” The dagger cuts into the skin just a little deeper.
The black eyes blink, but the gaze does not waver. It can\'t. There is no mind there, no soul.
Voldemort continues to cut, inflicting injuries, brutalizing the body of his disloyal servant, over and over again. There is so much blood. There is so much pain. And yet, there are no screams. Only the spirit can scream.
“Ah,” Voldemort muses. “But perhaps you are still there, somewhere... buried deep underneath... perhaps there is something of you still left. Perhaps,” he murmurs intimately, “I should just ... dig a little bit deeper.”
The dagger moves again.
Unwavering, and ever unchanging, the black eyes continue to gaze ahead in wonder.
And still, he is restrained, securely and inescapably.
His snow-white body is covered in blood.
His obsidian-black eyes are open in wonder.
The Dark Lord had always hated those eyes, even when he had thought that Severus Snape was on his side. The man could swear his loyalty, do terrible things to prove his worth, even killing his own mentor and friend... and yet, those eyes, they never seemed to be empty and devoid of life and passion, the way the eyes of other Death Eaters were.
Those eyes.. they are black, but not Dark.
And that\'s the crux.
The Dark Lord\'s hand holds a dagger in his hand. He runs it across the body of Severus Snape, over and over again, re-opening old scars, making blood flow in rivulets, burrowing deeper and deeper into the responsive, yet mindless flesh. The body flinches, shudders, bleeds...But those eyes... they never change. They keep gazing ahead in wonder, as if fascinated by the demise of the frail, battered body, as if mesmerized by the simple, primitive cruelty of the Dark Lord.
“Like what you see, Severus?” Voldemort laughs. He strikes the body with his hand. The body flinches. That is all.
“All your skill... all your intellect... all your passion... all your Occlumency training... and to think – you\'ve been reduced to this.” The dagger cuts into the skin just a little deeper.
The black eyes blink, but the gaze does not waver. It can\'t. There is no mind there, no soul.
Voldemort continues to cut, inflicting injuries, brutalizing the body of his disloyal servant, over and over again. There is so much blood. There is so much pain. And yet, there are no screams. Only the spirit can scream.
“Ah,” Voldemort muses. “But perhaps you are still there, somewhere... buried deep underneath... perhaps there is something of you still left. Perhaps,” he murmurs intimately, “I should just ... dig a little bit deeper.”
The dagger moves again.
Unwavering, and ever unchanging, the black eyes continue to gaze ahead in wonder.