Godless Underneath | By : vexia Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 6902 -:- Recommendations : 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. |
Title: Godless Underneath
Author Name: vexia
Pairing: Draco/Hermione/Harry
Summary: I'm eating all your kings and queens, all your sex and your diamonds. They walk like the Greeks but inside they are only glass.
Warnings/etc: Metaphysical. Symbolic. Eccentric. Sex.
Abstract shadows are dancing on his wall, curling around nothing but darkness like rotten and twisted fingers. The stone floors and blood-stained carpets are looking eerily beautiful, scratching at his bottle-green eyes with rousing vigour, and he can see dying spirits in them, caught in a black and mottled red spiderweb. He can clearly see the crimson, licking voraciously at the treetops, leaving nothing but ash and ivory sparks in its wake. The stars gleam brightly, leering at him with promised eclipses; they reflect nothing but a dark entity -- Death hovering in the air with nothing but shapeless lips that desire nothing but trapping souls and happiness into their black, black hearts.
(Fear. Hatred. A steady and rhythmic repertoire of confusion and chaos. The world tilts on its axis in a mass of fiery fusion of black and red.)
(Brown. Bushy mass of brown. Light. Seeing light and bliss. Who is this but a sadist? Haunt me, taunt me, break me, rape me. Reaping and purging. Salvation? Confession? Sinners have died. Forgive me for I have sinned.)
(Save you, save me. Find me.)
The silence inside is suffocating; she can't breathe. Her fingers (crimson-tipped and wounded. grasping. tearing. clenching. knuckles cracking) scrape against the stone walls, and she can hear the sound of her nails, coldly abused by granite. The moonlight is blinding, casting a tangled (deformed?) shadow beneath the soles of her shiny, black shoes. She feels a congruous urge to get on her bloodied knees, support her form on shaky hands, and kiss the blackness that engulfs her. The screams are louder (stopstopstop) . But she keeps on moving, walking blindly through corridors that seem so foreign tonight.
(Tonight is a night of unknown entities. Broken bones and smoldering ruins. Fire ablaze, heated and hungry. Langurous and bright and shivering with wild frenzy. White heat. So hot. She wants to touch it.)
(Find me.)
He stumbles into the clock tower, grey eyes ablaze with hunger. He can see them (they've started without you) kissing wildly, moving viciously against each other's bodies, figures molding into intricate limbs of black. He can hear the clothes rustling, and he swears that he can feel smooth hands of peach silk slide over his shoulders and fingernails raking across skin and bone. His normally agile fingers fumble for the clasp on his robe, his loins tightening, breath ragged.
(Faith. Trust. Lust. Tunnel vision.
And he sees
LIGHT.)
(Hideous light and broken wings. A devil of lust and an angel of sin. Lips crashing. Bodies thrashing. Madness colliding into oblivion of angular stars and black smoke.)
She is wet beneath their hands. Thrashing wildly. Searching for release. Fingers entertwine and search beyond the velvet walls and mind-numbing heat. She's throbbing (sobbing. whining. pleading. throaty gasps and shallowed breathing) but her hands are trapped in his pale grip. Green eyes look up from a mesmerizing rose colour to deep, burning grey (silver. chrome. slightest black.)
Pleasepleaseplease.
She whimpers and wriggles about, enjoying (hatingloathingcringing) the sadistic pleasure that they have over her. The Boy Who Lived , the boy who will live to tell tales of sex and diamonds -- Harry Potter, tasting strangely of Malfoy and Granger sex.
Regale me of your darkest secrets.
(Dirty, dirty girl.
Mating during Voldemort's turn to power.
Beauty. Greed. Pleasure.
Kiss me. Break me. Rape Me. Fuck me.
Kill me.)
They've switched places somehow, without her knowing. They've always been a jumble of long limbs of flexibility. The paleness of him (freezing yet so warm) is buried within her. (He can feel her pulsing.) He's growing so hard, and his mind is swirling 'round and 'round.
They always save the weakest one.
(It's always been her.)
Pain.
Pleasure.
She's clutching hard. She wants to scream and Harry bloody Potter crashes his lips against hers, swallowing her cries and crackling screams.
(Draco. Harry. HarryDraco. Godgodgod.)
They wantherpraiseher.
She is their glory. (Glorious princess of ancient tomes and torn, dusty pages.)
They love her.
(Yes, they love her.)
And she loves them.
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