Ficlet Warmth at Heart
Author: Kris T
Pairing: any SLASH pairing (it's up to your imagination)
Rating: M (just to be safe)
Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's
Warning: AU, post-Hogwarts, necrophilia, mild violence and implicit gore
Beta: by wonderful Furor Scribiendi Thank you! huggles
AN: My first try at psychotic fiction. I'm sucks at English so please bear with me. Any remaining mistakes, etc. are entirely mine. And don't forget to review! Thanks! cross-post my LJ. Thai version can be found here: http/ www. livejournal. com/ users/ masterofmercury/ 4248.html (sans the spaces) I don't know why, but English version seems kinda more..explicit than Thai version. -"- Maybe it just me.
923 words (or so Word says)

The starlight tonight was dimmer than usual. Night birds sang, competed with creaking voices of wood grating against each other. In a starlit room, a lullaby of water drops could be heard softly.

I couldn't sleep tonight. And I planned not to.

In this cold, quiet night, something in my life had changed forever.

I watched the man lying under me. He had a pale complexion, which was now even more intensified by the dimmed starlight. It was as if he had no blood in his body.

I knew he had it. Blood, I mean. It was dark red, smelt of rust and tasted like it: salty and tangy, metallic.

I was surprised to find that his blood was not different from mine since he once said I had dirty blood.


His eyes bored into me accusingly and I sighed, bending to kiss him obediently. I moved my hips, parted his legs; I knew what I had to do to make him scream with pleasure.

His lips yielded to me easily when I nudged them with my tongue. He wasn't responding. It wasn't surprising. He must be mad at me still.

Though, when I thought about it, he had never kissed me first anyway.

My breath was getting faster and faster as fast as I rocked my hips. He still wasn't responding, but I didn't care any longer. My head was full with pleasure, with promises of orgasm.

So close…

Faster, faster still…

So close…

Deeper… Harder…

I almost screamed when I released myself into him. I panted, filled with satiation, but the pleasure's suddenly gone when I looked at his face.

He continued to look at me with emotionless eyes.

I kissed him again, softly, and grinned. He was such a stubborn person.

I remembered when we first became lovers. It was the graduation night and Hogwarts held a Leaving Party for the seventh years. We fought each other, like many other times before that, but something changed that night. I hit him, and he hit me back. I forced him to lie down on his back, and he squirmed under me. His skin was so hot. I was so angry. And my alcohol-induced brain didn't make me very rational either. We found ourselves naked in seconds. Our first time having sex ended without us remembering a thing. But that didn't stop us from continuing our… escapade.

However, the change was too fast, and too confusing, for both of us. We shouldn't have felt something for each other, but something burst inside of us every time we met. We fought constantly, verbally or physically, and it usually ended with sex. There were some nights I woke up and found him staring at me with those intense eyes, his arms around me, but I had never really thought about it.

He hated me, and I hated him.

It's the truth, the fact that couldn't be denied. Every time during the make-up sex, he would whisper to me, over and over, that he hated me. And after we're finished I'd be the one who stated how much I hated him. And fell asleep in his arms.

I didn't know when it'd changed. Our arguments started to become something done out of 'habit' more than pure hatred. I learned to surrender, and he learned to apologise. He left my house each morning with smile on his face, and I waited for him at the end of each day.

And, suddenly, he disappeared out of my life.

Years passed with no contact from him. I almost went mad with confusion. Fear grabbed me. I was afraid; that he'd forgotten me, that he didn't want me anymore. I feared that he didn't love me. And I feared that I loved him.

But I knew it's too late. I couldn't stop myself.

I loved him.

It didn't take long to find him again, but when it happened I almost wished that I had never found him. I almost wished, that I didn't know where he lived, that our relationship – whatever it was – had never happened.

That I never loved him.

Some say love and hate are like the front and back of a paper, but for me, I thought ofthem as the different ends of a thread. Each end washidden in the mess of wool called 'prejudice' and 'emotion', and it blinded me for a long time.

And now it's too late. He left me. Forever. Never to return.

He'd married, had fathered a child. He was so happy, and it destroyed me inside.

I wanted him back.

No matter what.

He agreed to meet me when I asked and our meeting ended with an argument like every other time, but tonight I would never let him go again.

I gently nudged him, lifted his head so that he was lying with his head on my chest. His body was starting to cool down, cooler than usual, becoming icy and lifeless; but the blade in his chest was even colder.

And that reminded me, his heartbeat had stopped a long time ago when I struck the knife into his heart.

I frowned at the knife accusingly. Its handle was black, but its blade was bright red. Then I looked at him, not sure why he seemed so pale, much paler than I remembered. He was even whiter than the semen on his thigh.

I sighed, cuddled closer to him. His skin made me feel so cold, but at the same time it warmed me inside.

He would never leave me again.


Geez... I'm so bad at this.. Review, please? It keeps my muse alive!