Then I saw his face
Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR's
Summary:It is a simple plan, really, let Him takes what He wants, and He would bring Sirius back. I just don't expect it to turn out this way.
Warning: SLASH! HBP spoiler, violence, dubious-con, mild BD, dubious consent, mind fuck (literally and figuratively)
AN: This is the response to some challenges that I'll list for you at the end of the story, or you'll know the whole plot, and I'm not happy about that. Anyway, this is all because of you, maeglinyedi. (You'll know what crime I blamed on you at the end, or are you guessing already?)
AN 2: This poem, 'The Ghost' by Henry Lawson, is my saviour. I was desperate; lacking inspiration and the will to continue it, then I saw this poem in "Battlefields Quotation Fic Challenge: Harry Potter Fandom" by "bystarkiller" then everything just pouring out! Thank you ever so much! It's so perfect.
he ceased and looked intently in my face, and nearer drew;
But a sudden deep repugnance to his presence thrilled me through;
Then I saw his face was cruel, by the look that o'er it stole,
Then I felt his breath was poison, by the shuddering of my soul,
Then I guessed his purpose evil, by his lip in sneering curled,
And I knew he slandered mankind, by my knowledge of the world.
- Henry Lawson, 'The Ghost.'
I knew not what enforced me to be here. It might be the winds, blowing furiously outside, howling liked a restless ghost. It might be the stars, blinking dully on the night sky. Or perhaps the lacking of any noises in this disquieted house, or the strange pull I felt whenever I was in this side of the house.
Shadows danced merrily to avoid the light from the lamp in my hand, mocking me by sneaking behind and around me like playful children. I was not afraid of the shadows, for I feared more of what awaited me at the end of the corridor.
I fingered gently at my necklace, feeling the coldness and hard, smooth surface of it. Its icy, biting cold was not reassuring; instead it reminded me of a damned, wilted hand of a great wizard. The dread filled me so I swiftly let go of it.
Shadows mocked at me once more, leaping back and forth and around, outside the range of light. They were thicker here than any place in the house. It was as if they fed on this dark, thick door, which I had no doubt beyond it was still more darkness.
The door looked larger and heavier up close, but it did not protest when I pushed it open. A sliver of light from the lamp laid a trail toward the far wall liked a knife cutting through an inky substance, then it reached something never in my life did I expect to see again.
I found myself petrified, staring at the silhouetted figure, wishing for all it was worth that this was not a dream, yet afraid it was not.
I trembled, haunted by the flooding memories of something I had yet to accept; and I feared, deep down inside my heart, that it was – he was – whom I least expected.
Then I saw his face.
Like the quicksand, darkness drew you in.
I always thought of it as a dangerous …being. When you were surrounded by Darkness, it entrapped you, sucked you in, and swallowed. It was greedy that way. It loved to taunt you, to tease you and to temper with your mind. It made you think something horrible, something ridiculous, something you would rather not think about.
I did not believe in Darkness, or the fantasies it conjured. But this Darkness was different. He was different. In the dimmest of light he stood, looking just like the way I remembered.
He extracted himself from the Darkness and walked towards me, baring that face; the face I forced myself to forget. It was the face I saw in my raciest fantasies, my despairing dreams. I saw it in my shameful imaginations. I saw it above my face when he breached into me, rocking both of us into blissfulness.
He looked at me with his grey eyes. They were unreadable, flickering with thoughts I knew not, but I knew he needed something only I could give.
A hand reached for me and I jerked away from his touch, stared at it as if it was a snake ready to attack. His only response was a rueful smile.
Being this near without touching, his skin still emitted more warmth than I could take. His heat was the same heat I remembered touching my body, the cold the same cold. His stubbles the same pattern I remembered scorching my nape. His hands burning the way I was far too familiar with.
I knew him and I hated that fact, but my body yearned for him, for the phantom with his appearance, his face.
"Regulus?" I breathed, and let him pulled me into a kiss.