adamantine

the curve of her back, each of her vertebra outlined underneath the cold white skin there. i want to run my hand along there and chase away the shadows from underneath her eyes. take her white knuckled hands away from her wand. muttering incantations underneath her breath while little screams (spine tingling) rip at the walls with hot hands. only little mice with black liquid eyes and furred bodies.

i take one of her hands in mine and kiss it. in mine it feels small and helpless. the rot inside hasn\'t marred her chalky skin. her mouth is one bloodless line, looking harsh and soft at the same time. she looks at me with shuttered eyes for a moment and then pulls her hand out of mine.

the tiny mouse lies dead and smoking; the smell of charred flesh clings to the air. with a wave of her wand and a murmur the smell dissipates and the small, still body is gone. she smiles at me and she looks almost as she used to.

i remember laughter and stolen kisses underneath the sunshine. she always reminded me of fall, torn between sweet summer and cold winter. the smell of autumn flowers in her hair. one day she came home tired and silent, smelling of those rich perfumes that pureblood girls like to wear. bought in exclusive shops where an ounce costs sixty galleons. her lips red and swollen, a black excitement in her eyes. she would only tell me that she had met a girl and that she had learned many things. always the curious one, padma, with her books and journals full of flowing writing.

when i tried to kiss her that day she tensed. i smiled and lightly told her if she was going to be that way i was going to go read the newest issue of witches weekly. then i turned my back to her and felt small and cold inside. who was this girl?

now i touch her face with my shaking hand and wipe away tears that aren\'t there. she was a moth lead to the flame and inside she has turned dark and hard. burned on the inside of her arm is the image of a snake coiled around a skull. it looks almost as it\'s going to hiss. i run my tongue along it. she smiles and says my name, it sounds cool and dark coming from her mouth. not like lazy sunshine and giggling kisses underneath the maple tree at the back of our house. sometimes at night i think of how my name sounds in her mouth and cry; seeing her ashen face when she came back with that dark mark. she smelt of ashes and a faint rot that left me white and sick.

i kiss her dark, cold mouth and she again murmurs my name. then her tongue is coiling with mine. cold and moist. her kiss is hard and sharp and it leaves me numb. i touch one of her breasts through the silk of her flimsy nightshirt and she moans. i tense for a moment and then remember the sile cha charm she had put on earlier with a frown. i drag my fingertips over one nipple and then the other. they harden into peaks. i take her nightshirt off roughly, feeling the silk tear underneath my clawed hands. then she is almost naked, standing in her silky green panties (how like a slytherin though is just a ravenclaw). we kiss wetly; my kiss is hard. i can taste the dess ess of her destiny in her mouth.

sometimes when we kiss she tastes of blood and i wonder what she moans when she fucks that girl she is seeing. how their kisses are almost bites that leave swollen cherry lips and the tang of blood resting inside their mouths.

my panties are wet and her hand is between my legs. she pinches me and my teeth go click! as they come together. i look into her eyes and they are adamantine. i half shudder as her fingers touch my clit softly, pressing through the damp fabric. then her fingers are rough, thrusting up through my panties. i moan and she smiles a cold smile. a secret smile.

she pushes me down onto my bed and i lay back; my legs are half spread open. then she has her wand in hand and is is murmuring. my body goes stiff and she is pushing down my panties. my pallid thighs exposed in the dim light. i can feel her hands light on my skin.

but i can\'t move. i can\'t blink. we\'ve never played this game before. she thrusts two of her fingers into me and i try to cry out but can\'t.

it hurts. oh god, it hurts. and all the while she is smiling that cold smile. it hurts but there is also sharp pleasure. she smoothes her thumb over my clit and i want to moan but i can\'t move. all i can feel is my breath going in and out and her fingers teasing, touching the inside of me.

with the fingers of her other hand she starts rubbing my clit. soft first, then hard. so hard it almost hurts. in and out. rubbing. oh god. my breath is still going a steady in and out and i want to scream; to feel my breath pant in and out.

the pleasure spikes painfully and her fingers thrust deep up inside me. it hurts and i can\'t do anything but stare at her. her face is white and she is smirking. the mark on her arm is very dark.

later on she does the countercurse and i am free. i lay with my nightgown pushed up and panties pushed down. she is still over me and i look into her dark eyes and see her mirror image in them. me.

she murmurs, \'sister.\'