A Thirst For Blood

A Thirst For Blood

Originally written by becca589

Adopted by Kat Potter

Summary : Harry wakes during the summer after his fifth year to find himself in a cell. He remembers nothing that happened after leaving Hogwarts and he\'s changed. Is he going insane or is it something else? Rated for abuse, violence and rape

Characters : Albus, Harry, Hermione, Remus, Ron, Severus, Voldemort(Tom), Original Character

Genres : Romance, Dark Fic, Angst

Rating : Death Sentence(NC-17)

Warnings : Sexual Content, BD, Non-con, Violence, Adult Language, OOC-ness, Dangerous Muse, Spoilers

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe and am not making any money from this whatsoever.

An : Chapters 1-8 belong to becca589, with perhaps a few tweaks of mine. The rest belongs to me.


Chapter One

Cold.

So cold

Harry cracked an eye open and then slammed it shut again without hesitation when his head seemed to set alight and flames danced before his eyes. Pain as he had never felt before soared through his body with just that small movement and he caught a whimper before it escaped his lips, knowing that that simple sound would explode around his head and vibrate in his ears until he seriously couldn’t take anymore.

Everything seemed so loud, so near, hell even the darkness seemed to deafen him. His very blood seemed to run cold and he could no longer hear the beat of his heart. He could hear nothing and yet he could hear everything, the buzz of what had to be the wards, the wind outside and he could literally feel the magic around him.

Touching him.

Enticing him.

Drawing him closer until he couldn’t stand it. He was sure his head would split into two at any minute and his limbs felt like they would drop off one at a time, numb under the intense iciness of the room. He tried to think back to what had happened to land him in this current predicament and then he tried to stop thinking entirely when his head shrieked in complaint. He was convinced that his lungs were frozen and he could literally feel the ice crack around them as he breathed.

The taste of blood lined his lips and he had to wonder whether it was his own. His flesh felt to be caked in glass that would crack and break with any movement at all but what grabbed his attention more than this and even more than the pain in his head were the ice-cold chains around his wrists. This confused him so much so that he opened his eyes without thinking and once again cursed his stupidity as his eyes locked shut of their own accord. He curled up into a foetal position and cradled is aching head as much as the chains would allow, forcing back his cry of panic and raw fear.

He drew his mind blank, using all of the strength he could muster. He needed to think, he needed to know what had happened and how he came to be held captive but first he needed to calm down and get rid of the pain in his head, everything else could wait. He closed his eyes and tried to do as he was taught by Poppy just a few months ago, he concentrated hard on the part of his body that hurt and then set about healing it. He breathed a sigh of relief when the pain lifted slightly but as he opened his eyes again, it returned like a ton of bricks, ten times worse than before.

That would be an anti-magic ward then.

Fan-bloody-tastic.

He wanted to go home. That thought slipped into his mind before he could stop it and then his heart began to ache as pictures of Hogwarts flew before his closed eyelids. His headache was literally blinding now even with his eyes closed and Harry couldn’t help it as the fist few tears slipped from his control and warmed his cheek for just a short second before they too turned to ice.

Whatever he did to get himself in this position, Harry cursed himself as loudly as he dared for doing so. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could remember anything after leaving Hogwarts after his fifth year and losing Sirius. It didn’t take a bloody genius to work out that he was being held by Voldemort and his band of merry men but he could not see what had happened to him, how he was hurt or why he wasn’t bloody dead yet.

He willed himself into the darkness, curling up as securely as he could and wondering if this was actually the end of the boy-who-lived. He didn’t particularly care if it was; it was probably his own damn fault anyway. He chocked on bile as he remembered the death of his godfather and he screwed his eyes shut tighter, whatever had happened to him or whatever would happen was nothing more than he deserved for what he did.

After shedding many more tears, Harry allowed himself to fall into the unconsciousness that had been trying to drag him under since he awoke. Hoping never to have to open his eyes again, never to have to wake from the slumber, from the darkness. Hoping for death.

~*~

When he awoke next, Harry lay perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle and even going so far as to hold his breath until he was sure he could hear nothing around him. Slowly, he cracked an eye open and the first thing he did was breath a huge sigh of relief for the lack of pain in his head. His eyes adjusted to the darkness almost instantly and he could see everything around him. Still using small, cautious movements, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around.

He was in a cell.

A cell that had four walls and a door and that was it. Not one window could Harry see, nothing, not even a small crack of light under the heavy mental door. The walls were made of huge solid stone and in between the cracks was a damp rotting moss that crept up to the ceiling and half way across the floor. He could hear a small, systematic drip in one of the corners and his eyes sharpened as he looked past the shadows to see a very small hole in the roof.

That told him two things.

It was raining.

And he was on the top floor.

Unless someone had an overflowing bath or a leaking toilet anyway. He snorted silently at that and turned his head to look at the floor, solid concrete, no way out there. He could smell something, lingering close by and yet; he could not quite put a finger on it. He looked up at the roof again, trying to see if there was any chance of escape that way but it was plastered and he had no way of knowing what was behind that, maybe slates? If he could get up there then there was always the possibility…

His eyes flickered back down to the chains around his wrists and he frowned before looking around. He found a small twig and bent his hand as far in as it would go, carefully guiding the small piece of wood into the lock. He had no way of knowing whether it was night or day when he started but after hours, he growled in frustration and threw the now very snapped and bent twig over to the other side of the room. He would regret that later.

Something deep inside him seemed to stir and Harry frowned as he felt a need for something awaken but for what, he had no idea. He breathed in deeply again, trying to pinpoint exactly what that smell was but when he heard a noise in the farthest corner of the room. His head snapped around and his eyes sharpened, piercing into the shadows again as he broadened his senses, reaching out to caress whatever had moved. What he saw made his mouth open in shock, a woman, who, he couldn’t see yet, but a woman was curled up on the floor, she too wore chains around her wrists and tattered robes.

He watched in complete shock as she groaned and moved again, hope welled in his heart and all of a sudden, nothing seemed as bad anymore…he wasn’t alone. But he was unsure of why a certain excitement grew in his stomach, twisting it into a knot, and he was not sure he wanted to know why either. He shifted slightly to try and get a better look at her but his chains rattled and the woman’s head snapped up

“Who- who’s there” the woman spoke up weakly and Harry slumped back, any hope that had just grown seemed to crash and burn and his shoulders fell forward in defeat. Just the thought of spending time with this woman alone, in a cell, made the headache from the night before threaten to reappear with force and Harry bit back a groan. Voldemort really, truly was, a torturous bastard.

Delores Umbridge.

He hated her with a passion and so, why did the excitement in his stomach all but double upon realisation of who she was? Harry was starting to grow scared now, scared of himself and scared of the fate that obviously lay ahead of him. If he thought it could get no worse the night before, it just did.

“Who’s there” the woman spoke again, a little more confidently and Harry sighed, he found himself answering her before he could even think about it

“Harry Potter” he replied dully, his eyes fixed on her as she moved to sit up and looked in his direction. He wondered briefly if she could see him or whether she assumed differently

“I demand you show yourself immediately. I am the undersecretary to the minister for magic and Hogwarts high inquisitor. I demand you release me at once!” she shouted and Harry sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward but the urge, the need he felt before stretched thickly and his eyes remained fixed on her shadowy figure

“I would find that a little difficult Umbridge, considering I seem to be in the same predicament that you are. That of course means that I am bound too. Maybe I could spell it out simpler” he sneered and licked his lips unconsciously. He was tugging hard at his chains but he didn’t even seem to notice, his eyes would not leave her shapely figure and the craving was almost driving him mental.

Before he knew what was happening, he found his body out of his control and it seemed like he was thrown and locked inside his mind. He could only watch through a sort of screen as he yanked at the chains and managed to break free. His eyes were still locked on Umbridge and he crept closer slowly. Harry panicked, terrified of what was happening and he scratched at the walls of his mind, trying to free himself from his new prison, he could feel the lust crawl through his body, could feel the raw hunger churn at his stomach but could do nothing to stop it.

A predatory sense woke up in him as he stalked forward. No, as the person whom had taken his body stalked forward. Perhaps it was Voldemort? Perhaps the Dark Lord had found away to take over him but no, he could feel no other person inside his mind but himself. He watched through terror-filled eyes as he neared his target.

This couldn’t be happening

How could one lose control of their body?

And when one did, how did said body manage to move without a brain instructing it? Because Harry was pretty sure that even his subconscious never wanted to lay eyes on Umbridge again, let alone touch her. He wasn’t sure whether he was more scared about hurting her or…or something he couldn’t bear to think about. Why else would he feel the lust? He shuddered at the very thought though he was positive he was gay…

“Ugh, no you moronic, sick, bastard. I do not wish to fuck this bitch of a whore. She has something that I would very much like to taste” yes. He definitely heard those very words from his own lips. There was definitely no one else in the room with them…so why the hell would he call himself a moronic, sick, bastard? This was just unbelievable. Harry felt what little sanity he had left crumble around him and he felt his heart sink into his stomach. He hated to feel this helpless, this numb…

“Don’t call me ‘myself’ that gets too confusing. Call me…” He paused for a minute and Harry just stared dumbly. Surely this brought a whole meaning to the phrase of talking to oneself. “Daemon. Yes, I rather like that. Call me Daemon” Harry sighed and sat down inside his new prison. This was so weird; his mind was like a huge library with bookshelves stretching from ceiling to floor, books seemed to be packed so tight that they would be hard to remove. He peered a little closer to one besides him and he started when he read the title:

“One year old: Part one”

As he looked besides it, he saw hundreds of other books entitled with different years and different parts and he stared in shock. What was happening? Was it a potion? Maybe this was what it felt like to be completely taken over by the Imperius curse? Maybe he had been too weak to fight it? Whatever had happened, Harry wished it would stop, Daemon wouldn’t allow him to look away and so Harry watched as he finally reached Umbridge.

The woman was staring at him with a fear in her eyes that made Harry’s heart twinge. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, wanted to explain that it wasn’t her fault she was a bitch, that it was probably her parents. Wanted to do anything to stop her from being scared of him. He was so cold, so very cold, he felt himself shivering again and drew his knees up to his chest.

The hunger inside him, twisted at his stomach, tormented him, teased him so much so that Harry wanted nothing but for it to go away. He wanted peace, he wanted to go home but he would do anything to make the painful, icy cold hunger leave him. he didn’t even think to protest as Daemon reached forward and gripped her by the neck, it was then he saw what smell had been irritating him before.

Blood.

Her arm was bleeding.

That was a deep, deliberate cut. Why would someone want to do just that and then leave her? It seemed rather pointless, he leant forward, peering out of his ‘screen’ as his teeth sank into the woman’s neck and then it was pure heaven. Warmth spread through him like fire, soothing and heating his every vein. Caressing the back of his throat as he drank. His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed. Never before had he felt so alive as he did this minute. He could think straight for once, he could feel the ice around his lungs melt and he moaned.

When there was nothing else to drink, he let her body fall to the floor and he stared in shock at what he had done. She was dead, he, Harry Potter, had killed Delores Umbridge. Harry lifted his hand in front of his face and curled his fingers into a fist before his eyes opened wide and he threw himself to the other side of the room, curling up tight in a corner. There had been no Daemon, just him, just Harry. He had done it

He had killed.

He had liked it.

And that terrified him. The only conclusion he could come up with was that his subconscious knew what he was going to be doing and knew he would not cope with that and so helped him think up another character so that he would not feel so guilty. There was no Daemon.

Just Harry.

~tbc~