Devil\'s Desire, Heart\'s fire

A/N: Heya all my name is Matie and this is my first fic. After reading all the fabulous work on the site I got inspired to write my own, so thanks for that. Lol.

And a special big thank you goes out to my beta Belle, whom without, I would be too scared to post the fic.

I hope you guys like it, if not, then I hope I can improve with some encouragement help.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Harry Potter characters. Just having fun.

P.s. WARNING there is gonna be some pretty nasty stuff in this story. Some might find very dirty and offensive. Sorry about that.

Enjoy.

WARNINGS: Torture, Abuse, BDSM, Self Mutilation, and the list just goes on and on...

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Prologue

Frustration, anger, pain, and everything else I couldn’t possibly think of right now was eating away at my mind. If I could, well, if I just had the power to, I would go back in time and fix it. Fix the stupid veil of love that blinded me from the obvious signs of the bastard’s behavior.

Well fuck love, and fuck him.

Even the sound of tearing up the photos of us together wasn’t satisfying enough to mend it all.

And you would think, that watching the photo of him slowly burn, crumble and melt into black soot would also be enough to satisfy the thirst of hate that lurked so dominantly in my veins. But no, it only made the thirst stronger, the hate lurking within me bolder - to a point where if I don’t do anything about it soon, my veins would burst and bleed until there was nothing more left of me to give.

He is no doubt the devil himself. I knew from the start that messing with a man like him could be dangerous, but trust the stupid heart of a girl to consider something so deadly as thrilling and exciting. Or worse, captivating, because he was powerful enough to crush you within an instant if he wanted to. Spending every passing second with him was like provoking death to take you.

Stupid fuck, the fucking bastard, I’ll never forget that smile.

I’ll never forget the evil, heart-slicing smirk that crossed his face with a snarl when I caught him.

He showed no shame.

He wasn’t even modest enough to stop and explain himself to me.

He just kept her pinned against himl as he continued to thrust slow but aggressively into her. Each of his thrusts caused her to cry out and dig her nails harder into his backside as she urged him on.

He saw me off course, over her shoulder. But he didn’t stop. That was when he smiled.

He kept his eyes locked into mine as he yanked her hair to expose her neck. A second later, wet open mouthed kisses were placed against her skin, as the sparkle of evil in his eyes grew bigger.

My stomach turned. I was close to vomiting. I had to leave. I wanted to leave. But my body wouldn’t respond to my commands. It was as if he had ordered it to stand still and watch what he wanted to show.

His nails dug into her left shoulder, hard enough to promise a bruising to form. Then he did what he would always do during his sexual urges. He drew blood. He drew it by racking his nails down her skin until he reached her mid back.

Yet all this woman did, as he fucked her slowly and hard, was moan and groan like a bitch in heat.

Then, the one thing I would never forget about the bastard came. He slowly licked one of the deep scratches, making sure that I could see the way the blood collected on his tongue before he swallowed it, closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure at the taste.

My body gave a small jerk. The food I had recently eaten was being spat back out of my stomach from my disgust. The coppery, yet metallic taste of vomit formed within my throat as I swallowed the load back down. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of the victory he was looking for. Chocking on my very vomit seemed a better option at the time.

His eyes opened slowly, appearing glossy from being lost in pleasure. Smiling at me he thrust into her harder. Placing his right hand across her bottom, he yanked here body closer and tighter against him. It was as if he wanted her body to melt into his.

And then I cried.

I gave him the satisfactory of victory.

I gave him what he wanted, my weakness. The three words he mouthed after he pulled her closer destroyed the remaining form of sanity I had left within me.

‘I … love … you.’

He had the balls to tell me right then and there, as he fucked another woman, that he loved me.

Oh the mockery that danced in his eyes as he mouthed it to me.

My heart died at the sight of it.

Thank Merlin that I managed to posses enough control over my body again to get out of there. Thank the gods that I found the will power to flea.

I haven’t seen him since.

From witnessing that scene I ran straight home and locked myself away from the world. That was four weeks ago. I haven’t moved out into the sunlight ever since.

I’d rather be dead before giving into him again. I’d rather rot away in my very own home, before I’d give him the satisfaction of possessing me once more.

You know, it’s rather amazing at how much memory comes into your mind as you burn photos of your past. How vivid the images you want to forget play like a movie strip in your head over and over again. Once it finishes it rewinds and starts the torture of remembering all over again.

*************

I throw another picture into the fire before I drain the remainder of my glass of wine.

“That’s right you stupid fuck….” I curse. “Burn in fucking hell.”

I throw yet another picture into the flames, enjoying the sight of both of us huddled beside on another in a blanket, crumble and melt away. Not even bothering to pouring myself another glass of wine, I pick up the bottle and drink the small amount left. Less then half an hour has gone by and it’s empty.

The flames explode and roar after the sound of glass shattered from throwing the bottle into the fireplace. Using the back of my hand, I wipe away the bits of wine that had trailed down my skin before I get to my feet.

I need another bottle of wine, or perhaps something even stronger to drown this hate that is coursing and boiling inside of me. Hiccupping, I sloppily turn around to walk away from the burring photos. Only to collide into a strong pole that magically appeared in the living room.

Cursing I take a step back to look at what exactly I had hit.

My blood went cold. The beating of my heart even stopped- and on there I kid you not. The sudden death that filled the room caused me to choke.

He is standing tall in front of me, dressed in his usual muggle clothing of black pants, black shirt and black coat. The man simply can’t get enough of the color black. All the better to match his malicious soul, I suppose the reasoning for it is.

“Malita.” My name rolls out of his mouth, sounding as if it had been dipped into a bowl of sweet honey.

I take a step away from him, lose my balance on the stack of photo albums behind me, and fall to the floor.

It’s him...oh my fucking god it’s him… how the fuck did he get in? He is going to kill me.

“H-ow?….B-b-b-ut….” I stutter. Fear has swallowed my words.

An evil smile crosses his lips as he placed his index finger over his mouth, ordering me to be quiet.

“Malita…..Malita….” he sighs as he tilts his head to the left a fraction while he studied me. His voice is still honey sweet when he says my name, but as he says the next words, it changes. It becomes colder, crueler and promises punishment. “You’ve disappointed me….”

I swallow loudly enough for it to be heard over the blazing and crackling fire. He takes off his coat and places it gracefully over the sofa arm as he looks at the photo albums scattered on the floor, along with the pictures of us together. I sit there, utterly still watching him, not daring to move a single muscle, for I knew that aggravating him more could be fatal.

He takes a predatorily step closer to me before crouching down above the photo albums and scattered photos. His eyes are alert and studying every picture, but I know that he is also keeping an eye out for any movement from me.

I flinch and my breath hitches as he suddenly moves to pick up one of the photos I had have torn, ready for the fire. He brings it up close to him and places both ends beside one another to remake it. I know from the date and message scribbled on the back that he was looking at the photo of us at the WIZARDRY FAIR. As a gift, which he liked to call a special treat, he took me to the fair.

That day we won a large stuffed toy after playing a magical version of darts. Having the good eye that he has, he placed all three of the darts in the magical version of the bull’s eye, winning anything he wanted from the selection of treats on display. He, of course, picked a couple of unusual herbs and, surprisingly, a magical toy wand for me. The magical moving photo was of his cold, naturally sneering self, giving me the wand before I lent in and placed a light kiss upon his cheek.

But now as he looks at that photo, it is no longer the same. I have torn him in half, away from me, leaving myself to receive a wand from thin air before I lean over and kiss the sky.

“Tearing and burning the photos of me Malita,” he says in a dangerous tone as he places the photo back into its photo album, so that the pieces form the photo once more. “You know better than that….”

My chest heaves as I struggle to stand up for myself. “You…..You stay away from me…..I hate you!”

He laughs deep and masculine in sound as he looks over into the flames. “Do you my little flower….are you sure about that?”

His hands move up to his shirt collar, which he tugs at lightly after unbuttoning the first button. He is acting as if the heat from the fire is affecting him, but I know better. Nothing affects him. He is one of the damned, who lingered much too long in the wastelands of cold dungeons to feel anything.

“I was under the impression that you worshiped me,” he sighs as he turns back to face me. “That you loved me…..and I think you still do. You just can’t accept it….Can’t accept that I have you wrapped around my finger.”

I sit up slowly, resting my weight on my elbows as the upper half of my body doesn’t touch the ground. “You’re wrong! I HATE YOU! Stay away from me!”

He looks back at the flames, allowing me to study the way the light plays across his face. He is beautiful as sin, and he knows it, knows that no woman, or even witch could resist the power that dances around him, the power of lust, blood and death. The power that attracted you because it screamed that danger could appear any second. There is something about the way his dark, venomous black eyes watch and study objects. My guess is that the venom black in his eyes, is all the eternity of darkness that has replaced his soul. Even the slightly crooked nose he posses does nothing to belittle his charm. Nothing.

The darkness surrounding him is absolutely thrilling.

“You know I cannot stay away from you my little flower…… you’re bound to me by blood, as I am to you…..nothing can tear that apart…not even these attempts….” He gestured to the pictures scattered across the floorboards. “You’re mine, and mine alone.”

“Like she was?” I question, the first signs of jealousy creeping into my voice. As soon as I say it I regret it. That is what he wanted to hear, the satisfaction that I yearn for him no matter the cost. Me being jealous of any other women near him proving that I belonged to him. It was a game he liked to spin and play in order to obtain control over me. One could easily say that he gets his kicks out of it.

He grins evilly at me, but the bastard actually gives some thought in his answer. “Mmm…..I guess you could say so….” He pauses, watching my chest heave as I fight back the tears. “Though you taste better….much better.”

“Leave me along you sick fuck….” I cry, sitting up straighter to become eye level with him. “I’m not your filthy whore, who you can just march up to and play around with when ever you feel like it. Go back to the other bitch. I’m sure she was a good fuck and much more suitable for your sick and twisted games.”

His eyes darken at my remark and a sudden cloud of anger fills them. His mouth forms a tight and straight line as I see his jaw line clench and grind. The moment his face changes is the moment I feel the urge to throw myself into his arms and beg for forgiveness. But being as stubborn as I am in this situation, I hold my ground.

“You’re going to regret speaking to me like that, my little flower…..I was only going to warn you on getting your act together before tomorrow, give you a chance to think about WHO I am and WHAT I can do to you…….But now you have gone too far..” He is suddenly in front of me, kneeling at eye level between my thighs. “Perhaps I need to remind you once more of whom you belong to….” he whispers as he places a small and chaste kiss upon my forehead.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… the words are screaming over and over in my mind, but my mouth stubbornly refuses to set them free. He places yet another kiss upon my forehead before he moves to my left temple, kissing his way across my hair line, to my ear, where he whispers. “Undress me.” It’s a direct order, something I know I can’t refuse, yet I don’t move a muscle.

“Do it, or I will hurt you more than I intend to…” he hissed into my ear.

My shaking hands immediately move, and begin unbuttoning his shirt. Once I have finished he rips it off and throws it on the floor behind me. His torso is muscular yet pale in complexion, though that lack of coloring does nothing to change the attractiveness he possesses. He isn’t buff, overpowered, by muscular flesh, but toned enough to show he isn’t a weakling. Then again, he needn’t worry about his physical strength, due to his magic stick, which can summon killing curses within seconds. He calls it a wand; I, on the other hand call it a twig.

“Now the pants…” he orders, watching my trembling hands with a smirk.

As I had done to the shirt, I do the same with his pants and shoes. He again ended up ripping them off and tossing them across the room.

He sits before me, naked, hard and throbbing, promising with his domineering presence that I am going to end up getting fucked until I am too sore to continue. Knowing his sick and twisted ways, I am also going to end up bruised and bleeding by the time he is finished with me.

Without wasting any time he rips my night nightgown into shreds as he exposes me. Roughly he pushes me flat onto the floor, causing the breath within me to be knocked out completely.

“You see this, my flower…” he hisses as he points to his initials, which he has permanently engraved into me. It is a hideous scar. “This is there to remind you who you belong to….do you understand?”

Roughly he pushes my thighs apart before yanking me towards his throbbing erection. I feel the heat and moisture of it pressed tightly against my opening. All he needs to do is thrust his hips slightly and he will be buried into me deeply, every single bit of him.

“Your foolish behavior has gone too far… I would have thought you to come to your sense by now… but sadly for you, you have not,” he hisses as his right hand pushes my left thigh towards the floor, making me more vulnerable. My leg feels as if it is going to snap out of its hip socket if he puts more force onto it. But I know he won’t do it. It thrills him to see me in pain as he fucks me, especially as he watches me trying to move around normally after it. He is saving the rough punishment for later. After all, this is only the beginning. We have played this game before.

His left hand closes tightly around my throat and he squeezes. Panicking, I begin to claw at his hand, watching his eyes glow in pleasure at the sight of me. Suddenly, he rams himself inside me hard, making sure that my un-prepared opening burns and bleeds at his invasion.

I muffle a cry of pain as my nails dig into his hand, hard.

“Tell me you hate me,” he commands, taking himself out slowly, until only the tip of him is left inside, before he thrusts hard and deep into me again, using my bleeding walls as lubricant.

I groan in pain once more, begging with fearful eyes for him to stop, but he only laughs and repeats his command. “Tell me Mailta….tell me what you told me before.”

He repeats his hard, deep thrusts twice, each time gripping my throat a little tighter for a second before allowing me to catch a small bit of breath, then closing it once again.

“I…hate…you,” I groan and cough, gasping for as much air as I can get when he allows me to as he rocks above me.

“Again Malita…Louder!”

“I…err…” I cough, my eyes clouding from the tears threatening to escape me. “Hate you…” I groan, clawing at his hand harder. My scratching has caused him to bleed, I have torn through his skin severely yet he just keeps on holding onto me and telling me to repeat the three words.

His pace increases to a faster and harder rhythm. There is no doubt I am going to be bruised tomorrow morning. I might not even be able to walk for a few days from the force. He feels powerful enough to crush my hips and kill me, powerful enough to break my neck. Yet still under that anger he carried out towards me, he contains himself from losing control. Though there are times where I ask myself what exactly control is to him.

After repeating words over and over again, I stop thinking about his power and ability to kill me and listen to what I am moaning. Surely this man can take a hint at how much I despise him.

“I…ohh...I love...you”

What?

My heart freezes at the sound of my moaning and heavy breathing voice. “I…love you…I love you,” over and over leaves my lips as I indulge the pleasure. I was so busy thinking about him that I failed to realize until now that I no longer was chanting ‘I hate you’ as he roughly and painfully fucked me, but ‘I love you’ as he passionately and slowly fucked me.

It is at times like these that I truly hate my weakness towards him, that I truly despise the power and utter control he possesses over me.

His hands are no longer holding my neck or putting pressure on my thigh, they are resting lightly on my hip and left knee instead, in order to keep me closer to him.

“Oh gods…” I moan as he begins to kiss my neck. “I love you…”

I feel him smile “I know,” against me before he sits up and continues to fuck me as he watches me writhe beneath him.

“Come for me…” he beckons with each thrust. “Come for me Malita…Show me how much you love me…Come for me.”

Once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth thrust I am over the edge screaming out his name as I felt the pleasure ripple throughout me.

I let him use me until he exploded with pleasure, cursing myself mentally for getting involved with such a man. A cunning, evil, power obsessed, sleazy Slytherin.

Goddamn and curse the day we first meet each other.

The day in Diagon Alley.


tbc......