Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/136092.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Voldemort
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Mindfuck, Insanity, Rape, Alternate_Universe
  Series:
      Part 1 of The_Ashes_Of_Their_Fathers
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-11-27 Words: 1562
****** The Stars Are Falling ******
by EffingEden
Summary
     I own all. Raw and unfinished as you are, I laid my claim to you
     before you knew yourself. Now I have you. And I shall make you
     pleasing.
The stars were falling.
Down, down, their crystalline brilliance scoring the deep indigo sky, lancing
their agony out. They are screaming, with one voice that echoed back and back
and back, ceaseless, ruined.
The stars all fall.
No more day. Only the hollow eternity of night. Cold, so cold – yet burning,
inside, it is liquid with the heat, fighting to crack the frozen shell, burst
forth and bathe iced skin with warmth, to cool in the rime – but that would be
a mercy, and there is no such thing here.
Boiled and frozen, torn to pieces and crushed into the tiniest of spaces. There
is no thought but for the pain and the knowing that the stars – the stars are
all gone. It can’t be, can’t be, but the yawning emptiness, the heavy pressure
of the truth, holding down and forcing itself through and through like a pin
through a butterfly.
Oh and oh and oh, the pain of it – the weight!
It couldn’t crush me. Almost, almost, bearing down relentlessly, grinding
against my bones and clutching my heart in a vice, but it couldn’t crush me
when my insides are molten and my skin is carved ice. It couldn’t break
through.
How long it tried, worming against my cold, slippery shell. Hammering down
again and again, needle-sharp points of cruelty and blunt rage. Pressing and
pressing, wanting in, hungry, furious.
Eternity spun.
Then – the harsh heat inside, the crystalline frost of my tomb vanished.
Both, so fast, so suddenly.
And it hurt, it hurt, the absence of pain hurt just as much, and I was nothing,
nowhere. No glow in the dark, no anchor to keep the sky still, no guide to keep
me from drifting – and no protection from the weight and settled over me a
moment after the shackles of pain had been hewn.
Yes, came a thought, clear and sharp amid a rush of sharp, eager whispers. So
stark against the disjointed fragments of my mind, unable to form anything so
elegant as words. The ‘yes’ echoed and echoed through, until it was everywhere,
everything, chased by distant hisses.Oh, how I have waited.
They were not words, not anything I could understand. They caressed and tore
and gouged and burned, all through my hollowed world.
It hurt, it hurt, and I thrashed and fought, but there was no stop. Before the
end, the sky was home to two new stars. Hateful red against the indigo sky, all
knowing and cruel as a god’s.
A god is exactly what I am. One you shall learn to worship.
Raw and aching, the weight lifted away. The eyes blazed for several more
moments, then dimmed. The sky reverberated with laughter. It was a long time
before it was quiet again.
Dead, dead, dead, Sirius was dead.
Rage. Blinding, searing rage like he had never felt. Scouring thought and
reason from his mind. He ran down the bitch who had done it, screamed out the
curse without care, demanding her pain, her suffering.
Not the killing curse. Too quick. Too decent. It wouldn’t satisfy the blazing
monster clawing inside his chest.
Her screams, he wanted. To see her contort and thrash. To dole out one piece of
torment he was living through now.
He wanted it more than he had wanted anything every – but it wasn’t enough.
She fell, but she didn’t scream. He stood over her, she rolled over to look up
at him, her fake fear mocking him. Why didn’t it work? WHY!
You’ve got to mean it, Harry, came a dark whisper. Yes, yes, he did mean it. He
wanted, more than anything – he wanted that!
She killed him. She deserves it. Sirius. Sirius. She killed Sirius. Just when
he’d gotten him back – just when he had finally got someone who wanted him,
wanted to be a part of his life. Someone who would be his, and his alone. They
had both waited for so long – been through so much – wanted it so badly, and
she – SHE! – had ripped it away from them both!
He had been so stupid. So fucking stupid. His fault, his fault – no, her fault,
her fault too! She had done it.
You know the spell, Harry, the soft voice murmured, seductive, clouded with
urging hissed whispers. Duel languages, both saying the same thing, nudging him
through the turmoil of self-doubt, guiding him back to the pure white rage that
made his very blood burn.
Yes, yes, he knows it, said it – but he has to, has to… cast it inside, not
just with his voice, not just with a flick of a wrist. His wand is secondary in
this spell.
She starts to laugh insanely again, her eyes behind him. Not on him, not seeing
him as the threat he was, is!
Do it!
“Crucio!”
Her laughter stopped at once, becoming a scream. Her body jerked and twisted,
arching at an impossible angle before buckling to curl inwards. Her hands
scrabbled at the ground and her eyes were wide and sightless. The rage that
pounded through his head didn’t ease, but there was a savage glee. It was
joined by another’s cruel mirth. Someone was laughing.
Then – “Stupefy!” – nothing.
>
Wake.
He jerked – felt his body, whole again, solid again, aching, cold – curling
inwards, pressing closer to the floor. There was nothing to see – not darkness,
not light, but a middling grey without shadow or highlight. Blind. And sound –
he couldn’t even hear himself breathing.
He tried to sit up after a moment – but he was slammed back down, held in place
by cords of magic.
He struggled against it, surging and thrashing to no avail. He heard the
laughter and saw the eyes blazing down. No, it wasn’t sight or sound but there
wasn’t anything else to call them. They were there, undeniably. Like the tight
restraints that held him were there. He could feel them there, but not by any
pressure on his skin.
In his head, in his mind. So close, invasive, intimate. Inescapable.
The realisation stunned him into stillness.
That’s right. I am here. Always have been and always will be. Everything you
are is mine! Your body, your mind, your pain… Even the air you breathe.
His chest stopped. The muscles wouldn’t move. They trembled, oh his whole body
quivered with panic as he fought – but it quickly became apparent he couldn’t
breath against the will of the Voice.
The chuckle rippled through his mind, and a moment later he gasped and gulped
the air.
And then – touch. Not the not-touch of the binds, but a touch-touch of his
body. A hand, pressed flat onto his belly, rubbing slowly, possessively. He
wanted to squirm away, feeling vulnerable, but the binds were tight and he
couldn’t evade.
I own all. Raw and unfinished as you are, I laid my claim to you before you
knew yourself.
Another touch, his forehead, a pulse of pain through him.
Now I have you. And I shall make you pleasing.
The hand moved lower and lower. No, no, not there! The hand rubbed flatly
against his manhood. His chest lifted and fell, and a sadistic wave of pleasure
seeped from the sky. The fingers wrapped about him, caressing his sensitive
flesh, urging his body to respond.
It brought warmth and pleasure, both pooling around his loins, coiling in his
lower belly.
Do you like this? You sound like you do. Such sweet little sounds. Has anyone
touched you like this before? Has it only been you, all rush and hurry, frantic
beneath the sheets?
He did like it. It felt good – really good, he wanted more – but it also felt
bad, not use to being touched, especially there, but something so powerful. He
didn’t know what the whispers meant about the rest of it, memories not existing
before the fall of stars. But that – ah, it didn’t matter. Just let it keep
moving, let it keep going, smooth skin and clever fingers that rubbed one
moment and squeezed the next. Keep going, oh please… yes, yes….
Close already? You really must do better than this.
The pace slowed, the Voice ignoring the desperation that tormented him, but
instead there was a new sensation. A plunging, a deep reach, something
invading. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t pleasure. It ached, almost like holding
his breath for too long – on the brink of hurting when the feeling was drowned
in a rush.
A violent flash of green, an echoed scream, a woman arching from the force of a
blow, a youth crumpling to the ground. Savage joy, a vast hunger, searing
anger, dark amusement.
Fear, denial, revulsion flared, but the oppressive eyes saw and opened the
floodgates. Memories poured over him, warped emotions sliced through his mind,
forcing him to be the one to kill, to like it, to revel in the weakness of his
victims. All the while, the hand moved, keeping his body feeding him stark
pleasure against the myriad of torment.
He was forced to climax, the blaze of pleasure blinking out the suffering in
his mind for a moment. The spill of emotion and images continued for a while,
then tapered off. The hand was stroking his belly again, slick warmth rubbed
idly back and forth.
You will learn. You will learn to endure, to enjoy. Such games we shall have.
Rest.
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