Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Nothing Beautiful	By : Prentice Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1972 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Nothing Beautiful
- 1
Title: Nothing Beautiful

Rating: FRM (Fan Rated Mature)

Warnings: Dark Themes

Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Spoilers: PS thru OotP

Category: Dark, Slash

Series: None

Archive: Ask first, please.

Feedback: Is always cherished and appreciated.

Size: 15kb

Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained here-in, are the
property of J.K. Rowling, the WB, Bloomburg books and etc. No infringements of
these copyrights are intended, and are being used here without permission. No
profit was made and no harm was done.

Author�s Note: A different, darker twist, on the Bi-Weekly
Challenge #1: Voyeurism. Hopefully you guys enjoy it!

Author's Note 2: I'm sorry that I've been away so long! Real life put me
through the wringer and, well, I just now got back into writing. I come with
peace offerings of stories.

Summary: Bi-Weekly Challenge #1. It was never going to be something
beautiful, Harry knew that.

Notes: //blah// indicates thought.
The pain was unbearable and there was nothing he could do to escape it. It
encompassed him entirely; mind, body and soul. It was every where, on every
surface. It washed over his body, jerking it back and forth, to and fro until he
was left a shaking, huddled mass; it infested his mind, plucking nerves until
flashes of bright white and black dots danced behind his eyelids; it trickled
into his soul, pounding it against it�s fleshly walls and making it howl for
freedom. There was no running away from it, no turning his back on it. He had to
endure and soon it would be over.

Harry Potter shuddered, a choked sob gurgling in his throat as he pulled his
knees to his chest, instinctively wrapping sinewy arms around them. The
excruciating pain would stop soon. It had too. Any one person could only survive
Crucio for so long before they would succumb to the pain; either by falling into
unconsciousness or going completely insane. In either case, he knew, they would
quickly be dispatched off and then it would be over. Then it would be done.

//Please, God, let this be over soon.// He prayed, another burning flash
of pain slicing through him. He knew it would be, it had to be, soon. These
torture sessions never lasted long nowadays. In fact, this was the first one
he�d had to endure in weeks, months even, if he could remember correctly, that
was this long. Which only meant one thing: this person, whoever they were, was
most likely a witch or wizard trying to fight the curses off but only succeeding
in making the torment longer.

And, more often than not these days, it made Harry want to scream, to cry, to
vomit because here and now as he endured the pain with them he wished they�d
just die so he could be at peace. Wished they would succumb and he wouldn�t have
to feel their pain, hear their screams and sometimes even see their faces. He
thought this so much, at times it would become a chant within his mind: //Just
die. Just die. Please, just die. Just die. Just die and it�ll be over.
Just die.//

It was sick, he knew. He shouldn�t think those things; he shouldn�t want the
person to die to be out of pain. He shouldn�t want them to just give in but he
did and he couldn�t stop himself. They wouldn�t win their fight against the
Death Eaters or Voldemort. They weren�t strong enough to fend them all off. //So
please,// he thought, // please just give in and breathe your last
breath. I promise to avenge you, I promise to make things right, but please,
just let go.//

Another burst of pain, one so powerful he felt his heart throb into his
throat, and it was over. It was done. He could breathe again. He could move and
not feel as though he were rolling in hot coals. In an hour or so, he could even
be brave Harry Potter again and not have to think about how he�d witnessed and
been part of a person�s last pain on this Earth.

But not here and not just yet, no.

Here and now, right now, he could lay and wait while his lover got rid of the
remnants of what once was a human being and then give him the comfort he so
craved, so wanted, after such an ordeal because - yes, while Voldemort was a
sick, twisted mass murdering psychopath whom deviled in torture and a form of
genocide - Tom Riddle was a man who watched over him just as much as Voldemort
did.

Tom was a man who came to him through soft touches and mental caresses. Who
soothed his aches and kissed his bruises; that cradled him in his mind and made
love to him in his heart.

Tom was a man who would take him in hand, pump him slowly, purposefully,
until he was trembling and moaning and begging to be stretched, to be filled.
And, somehow, some way, Tom would.

The man would tease him, stretch him, make him beg and then wonderfully,
magically, fill him so completely that he was sure each and every time that he
would shatter into a million pieces. But he never did. Even when Tom�s warm,
husky voice was whispering promises and love and pressing magically forged
kisses to his neck, his eyes, his mouth because he knew beyond a shadow of a
doubt that this would never last long enough for him to count as real.

This would never be something beautiful and open and wonderful. This would be
stolen moments when Voldemort�s bloodlust had been appeased and Tom was able to
force himself to the fore. This would be pain and suffering and, in the end, it
would be Harry shattering himself by killing Tom. By killing Voldemort. By
killing his pain and his happiness, all in one single spell.
- 1
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Nothing Beautiful