Lashing Out

A/N: Hello! I don't know what to say about this one. Inspiration struck. It was like the words were all already there, they just needed to be typed out. Don't you love it when that happens? Anyway...this is all done in 1st person, because I find it the easiest way to write. It may take some getting used to, yeah.

"Crucio." spoken softly, the voice cut me to the bone before the the curse even touched.

Molten lava had been injected into my veins. Pain boiled in the pit of my stomach, clawed its way up and released itself from the constricting prison of my throat in the form of an inarticulate roar. My eyes rolled up in their sockets; the room fell away. I was blind (but I had been blind before, hadn't I? the darkness was stifling); I was dead, I had never even existed. I knew nothing. Nothing except the pain.

"Dear Lord, your tolerance isn't very high...is it?"

Awareness flooded back. I felt the cold stone beneath my hands and knees. My legs must have given. Must have, because I had been standing only a second before. ...Had it been a second? Never mind that. Heat crept up my face as I imagined collapsing so effortlessly, so easily, so god damn compliantly, under his whim. I snapped my head up to glare into the most hated face. It was shrouded in the darkness of this chamber, so I could not see the familiar features, but it didn't matter -- they were there, the mouth pulled, no doubt, into a condescending smirk, as the slight lilt of that low voice suggested.

"Fuck you." I hissed.

"Ah, ah. What would your parents say about that tongue? It's filthy." he chuckled. And then there was a pause, and I knew what was next, because the words had been spoken more than once before. "Oh, wait...they can't. They're dead, aren't they?" As if he didn't know.

"Fuck you."

"Is that all you can come up with? Honestly. Don't be boring, now. You had so much to say before -- "

"Augh!" I gasped, recoiling when the toe of his boot connected with my stomach. Bile rose in my throat as I rolled, quickly, over onto my back. I made to sit up.

"Hush, don't interrupt me; hasn't anyone taught you proper?" He put his foot on my chest, pressing his weight down and keeping me in place. My shoulders jerked. I tried to stand but he pressed down harder. He carried on, not especially hungry for a reply, it seemed. "I suppose I could be the one to teach you..."

I imagined he could go on talking to himself all night, the smug bastard. No need to smile or nod or swear or yell here.

"...but would you be willing to learn?"

The urge to grab his leg was strong. Grab it and push that manky boot away, grab it and twist and twist and keep on twisting until he screamed as I had before.

"I said," the heel dug in. I gasped. "will you be willing to learn?"

"Oh, am I permitted to talk now?" I snapped, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. My voice wavered. I heard it - he heard it.

"Cute." The heel dug in harder, sharper, and the pain spread. That wasn't cute. I let out another rush of breath, made to draw in one, couldn't. My eyes closed. "Would you like me to stop? Say the word. I'll stop...and we'll move on to the next thing."

The next thing didn't sound any more promising than this thing, but the seconds passed and the ache only increased.

Thwarted temporarily, I groaned, "Ye...esss..." The weight stayed firm. My eyes opened as panic started to bleed in.

"Sorry, what did you say? Didn't catch that." he snickered.

"Stop it!"

He removed his boot. I sat up sharply, vaguely aware of the disapproving click of a tongue to my right.

"Temper, temper. I've certainly got my work cut out for me tonight...looks as though you haven't learned anything at all. Stand up."

I didn't respond.

"Stand up or I'll curse you again."

I had to respond.

Rising to my feet, I saw nothing, but felt everything lurch around me. And even if it didn't, I lurched at any rate. He laughed, I swore, reaching out, grabbing blindly for support.

Support that I promptly received, but in the most unwanted way imaginable. Two arms snaked themselves around my waist. I had only the time to stiffen up before he spoke, his voice coming out in a hot breath of air against the nape of my neck, "The Cruciatus hit you hard, didn't it? You can barely stand. But don't worry, you won't have to in a moment..."

His back was firm, strong. A solid force and hot as hell against mine. He was on fire. I was frozen cold. I acknowledged those facts thoughtlessly. Dedicated them to the library of memory in my head. Not knowing why.

"Take six steps forward."

I gritted my teeth. "Is this going to be something like Red Light Green Light?" I snorted. The idea of listening, of turning my back to him crawled under my skin like a thousand tiny ants.

"Something," I could hear the smile in his voice as he added, "Go on."

I took the first step forward. My legs trembled alarmingly on the second step and the third one was near impossible. The darkness was too disorienting, and with my body still recovering from the sensory shock of the Unforgivable...

"What's taking you?"

His eyes were either exceptionally quick to adapt to the lightless room (mine had not) or he had cast a spell that would give him something close to night vision. Either way, he saw at least the outline of my back. And he saw it had drawn to a stop.

I opened my mouth. Muttered, "...'t..."

"What's that?" he said loudly.

"I can't."

He was delighted, and the ants under my skin doubled their army by ten fold. "Oh, it's incentive you need, is it? No fear. I'm good with that sort of thing." he said cheerily. "Crucio!"

"HAAAA - AAAAAH!" I screamed out, an absurd scream of a laugh. I clenched my fists. Nails digging into flesh, I tried to keep my wits about me. Fought not to crumple again. Not again. "HAAAAA - HAAAAAAUUUGGHHHH...!"

A switch was flipped. Before I could get out a fourth 'laugh', the pain had vanished.

"What's up?" He didn't sound amused. His voice was light, as usual, but there was an abrupt, jerky quality to it. The image of a starved lion, muzzled and chained and just about to break from its bonds to go for the hapless antelope, streaked across my mind.

"Y- you're a piece of work," I gasped, my lungs still aching, my throat still burning with the yells.

"Is that so?"

"...Yeah." I answered.

"Fantastic. Is that all?"

"No. No. L...ehh....let me finish. You're a real piece of work,"

"Hn," he prompted me to carry on.

"Potter, i-i-it's funny, don't you see? Because you've become exactly what you hate." I grinned. But he didn't even pause. If he was surprised, or angry, it showed only on his face.

"That's one opinion," Potter said offhandedly. "Another person might just say I'm dealing with the last threats of the war, Malfoy."

I let out a choked laugh. Sweat was pouring down my brow. I reached up to wipe it away...

"I expect you'll see your dear mother and father soon..." Potter continued. "I'm going to kill you now."

The laugh shifted smoothly into a groan in my throat, as, through the shadows, the Boy-Who-Lived raised his wand.


A/N: This could be a oneshot, but who knows? I could continue it too. If I did it would definitely be yaoi and there would definitely be a load of kink warnings. ;) We all love those. Or at least I do.

Reviews: Are greatly appreciated though not manditory.