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Author of 24 Stories |
Title: Imago in Speculum
Rating: M
Warnings: Semi- non-con, slash, semi-rape (if you wanna call it that), mentions of rape, a tad bit of the mocking of the fandom, cursing, Katieish things.
Summary: Image in a Mirror. There are other worlds, you know. They exist. Like this world, yet so different. There is you, and then there is the other you. There is the reality, and then there is the fandom.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Harry Potter books. Wish I did, but then they wouldn’t be ‘children’s books’ anymore, now would they. I do not own Ringu, Rasen, or Ruupu. Also, I really don’t own the fandom. I don’t think anyone really ever could. You cannot own people as far as I know (at least in the U.S.)
A/N - This ONE-SHOT (yes, one-shot again) came from reading a discussion on a forum (sorry, can’t remember which) that was talking about if Voldemort was a virgin in the canon HP world. I say yes. Don’t go off asking why (especially since it’s a tad bit hypocritical because I usually pair him up with someone) I have my reasons, but I don’t feel like typing them out. In fandom, it’s a whole, entirely different story. So in fandom when that question crops up, I say “pfft, yeah right. And I’m a freaking fairy princess la dee freaking da!” My question is: what if Voldemort ever met his fandom counterpart? Same guy, yes, but with a little more fixation on…other things besides world domination. So this is why this is here. Also because I like writing weird things. And don’t worry, I’m still doing Ringu no Aku! Erm, pairing wise, it’s Voldemort/Voldemort.
Image.
Likeness.
Copy.
We all know we exist. We can feel our hands, our faces, are bodies. We can hear our hearts beat against our breast, feel the wind caress our faces. We know that we are standing on ground, we know that there is a sky above us, we know that a world surrounds us, filled with trees and water, animals and life. But, we do not know one thing. We are not aware, totally ignorant.
Suzuki, Koji had written a story, Ruupu (Loop), that the events that had happened within the tales of Ringu (Ring) and Rasen (Spiral) all took place within an alternate reality, a virtual reality, a fake reality called The Loop.
A piece of fiction, but in a way, so very correct.
There are other worlds, you know.
Yes, they exist. We may never know it, but it does exist. Thousands of them, perhaps. Or maybe only one. Like this world, yet so different. There is you, then there is the other you. There is the truth of one, but then there is the beliefs and truths of others. There is the tale conceived and written by one, and then there are the tales compiled and written by others. There is a reality, oh yes, there is reality, do not be mistaken. There is a true reality.
But, then, there is fandom.
This castle, though, was now in control of the last heir of Slytherin’s blood, who also happened to fancy the Dark Arts and who just also happened to be the darkest sorcerer (and now greatest since the death of Albus Dumbledore) ever to walk the earth: Lord Voldemort.
Speaking of the Dark Lord in question, Voldemort had just held a Death Eater meeting. Well, it’d be a lie to say that he was just a tad bit disappointed. More like he was on the verge of cursing every single creature within a five mile radius of his being into oblivion and beyond. The Ministry was actually deciding to try and fight him, anyone suspected of being a Death Eater was immediately fed Veritaserum, and they still hadn’t been able to break the imprisoned Death Eaters (from the attack on the Ministry) out of Azkaban. Altogether, life wasn’t going too well for the serpentine dark wizard. But, things couldn’t get any worse, could they?
Apparently, yes, they could.
Upon opening the door to his chambers, Voldemort was met with the oddest sight any human being, wizard, witch, Muggle, or snakelike bastard ever saw: sitting quietly upon his bed was himself. Tall, pale, skeletally thin with slit like nostrils and gleaming red eyes, arms folded plainly over long black robes, this other Voldemort grinned as the semi trigger happy and highly shocked Voldemort attempted to masked his surprise. Of course, any emotion was soon covered up, but the shock had still been readable for a nanosecond of time.
If someone had walked into the room right now, they would have then proceeded to believe themselves insane and throw themselves off the nearest bridge. Or at least believe they had a vision problem. Either way, it’s not everyday that you see two of the exact same person on either side of the exact same room having what could be called a staring contest.
After a long moment of unnerving silence, the Lord Voldemort standing at the door spoke.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice high and cold.
The other Lord Voldemort, the one sitting on the bed, laughed, his voice equally as high and as cold, before answering, quite simply, “I am you.”
Voldemort sneered, his back to the hallway as he watched the being that claimed to be him. “I can see that,” he hissed, a spidery hand gripping his wand tightly. “In body, yes, but truly you could not possibly be me.” He was ready to strike the imposter, but the being on the bed didn’t do anything at all.
“True, I am not you,” the other Voldemort whispered softly, standing up. “And yet, I am you.” Red eyes gleamed, the other Dark Lord grinning cruelly. “I am you in a different reality. Not much difference from this world, though. At least not in appearance and morals.”
This intrigued the Dark Lord, his anger and shock subsiding at this information. There was another world? Another reality?
“What is this other world?” Voldemort asked the other man.
“Not much different from this,” the other Voldemort hissed. “The Ministry is still a bunch of moronic imbeciles, the Order is still trying to kill us, and Potter is still alive and horribly devoted to the Light, including the old fool Dumbledore, although he seems to have a lingering hatred towards the old coot for keeping things from him that one year.”
The red-eyed man sighed. It didn’t seem any different at all. Anger at the Death Eater’s failures was rising again and annoyance at this “other him” began to surface.
“However,” the other snakelike man said, smirking. “There are a few differences. For one, we are winning the war with the greatest upper hand. The Light will fall very soon. Secondly, Lucius and all the others have escaped out of Azkaban, and are helping recruit more and more followers. The dark army has grown stronger. Finally, we have captured Potter.”
At this, Voldemort’s red eyes widened. “You’ve captured Potter?” he asked, the added, “And you haven’t killed him yet!”
“I’ve found…other uses for the boy,” the Dark Lord replied, a slightly perverted gleam in his eyes. “Humiliating, degrading, he’s begged for my mercy many times, but Lord Voldemort does not give without something in return, as you well know.”
The serpentine wizard sneered at his image, his copy. “So you rape him continuously instead of destroying him? Fool, it only takes one weak man captured and the whole Order will be able to find you and save Potter.”
The Voldemort from the other reality remained silent for a minute, but then the hungry gleam shone within his blood red eyes. His smile contorted into a leer as he moved closer to his counterpart.
“You’re still a virgin, aren’t you, Voldemort?” the other pale man rasped.
The Dark Lord looked at the leering image of himself, shock and slight embarrassment vaguely evident in his tone. “What importance is that to you?”
“Don’t change the subject!” he roared.
Voldemort grew testy. “You say you are me. Should you not know the answer?”
Smiling lewdly, the other Voldemort Disapparated, only to Apparate behind his skeletal counterpart, locking his arms around the snakelike man’s chest and shutting the door. “Hn, seventy years old and you’ve never been touched,” he hissed, skeletal fingers trailing about a body just like his own, but not his own. “We’ll have to remedy that.”
The Dark Lord, ensnared in his copy’s embrace, was livid. Hissing the word “Crucio!” he watched the image of himself seize up in pain, which released him from the embrace, before flipping the copy’s body over his shoulder, his other him crashing into the foot board of the bed. Straightening his robes, Voldemort released the torture spell before kicking his image strongly in the ribs. “Do not ever touch me again, unless you want to face the wrath we both know I am capable of,” Voldemort spat sharply.
Snapping his fingers, the copy created ropes out of thin air to entrap his real counterpart’s hands. Before Voldemort could cast the counter curse, the other Voldemort was on top of him, pushing his restrained form upon the dark sheets. “If you and I both know what we are capable of, you know it would be useless to fight me,” the other snakelike man rasped, spidery hands undoing clasps on the Dark Lord’s robes. “I can make this pleasurable, enjoyable even, if you do as I say.”
A low growl of anger erupted from the pale sorcerer as his doppelganger licked, kissed, and bit down his throat, chest, and abdomen, hands touching all over, eyes filled with lust. “I will not be your little whore. I will not be your plaything,” he gasped.
“But Voldemort,” the other Voldemort grasped the pale man by the jaw bone, “you don’t have much of a say in this.” Lowering his head, the mirror of the Dark Lord claimed the serpentine man’s mouth, two forked tongues fighting for dominance, spidery hands touching, teasing, tainting. Taking the pale man in his mouth, the double tantalized him with his pointed teeth, his forked tongue. Voldemort fought down the moans that became almost inevitable as his copy abandoned his half-hard erection to force the Dark Lord on his stomach, long nailed fingers raking red marks down porcelain white skin.
Fingers wove bloody and intricate patterns about a pale body as digits scissored a path within the pained wizard. Whimpers and moans were held back as each new thrust cut farther and farther, while the other snakelike man kissed rough trails against his victim’s spine. Twin shouts of pain and ecstasy greeted the night as the copy of the darkest wizard of all time spilled his seed within the sorcerer whose image he bore.
Within this magnificent castle there had been a dark and powerful sorcerer who had been paid a visit. Late in the night, this dark and powerful sorcerer met his copy, his image, his doppelganger from a different reality, another world. During this odd visit late at night in the dark chambers and bedrooms of this magnificent castle, Voldemort, the dark and powerful sorcerer in question, learned few of the many differences between his world and his others’ world: the Dark was easily winning the war in this other world, while in his world, it was trying to grow ever stronger, the Death Eaters who had been imprisoned were free in that different world, Potter had finally been captured and was being used for sex, and his other him, the other Voldemort, was not a virgin, unlike him.
Well, after that night within the magnificent castle beneath the dark, real sky, it can be said that at least the final difference between the worlds can be eliminated from the list.
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