For once she wasn't interested by the pain. Usually she loved it, craved it, sought it out in any form it might happen by. It came with death, and broken hearts, and first times. In pleads for mercy, shouts for mercy, sobs for mercy. It came with the hard edge of a blade pressed against the mudblood's neck, veins pulsing and hearts pumping. It came with a purposeful swipe of her master's wand, rendering her incapable of any thoughts. Only feelings and quick breathes.

Usually she sought pain.

But for once something new distracted her from her goal. It was in his eyes. There was pain there too, but something more. It was in every stiffening of his strong jaw, every involuntary clench on his wand. In his ceaseless poundings into her; her legs wrapped against his waist, arms clutching his shoulders, back pressed hard against the wall. Allowing him to fill her up, to tighten around him. Hot and sticky and wrong. Biting each other, cursing each other, both scar and mark alight.

But she wasn't just in it for the pain.

She was there for his sneers, his fists slamming into mirrors and playing with the shards. His secrets, lies he told his friends. Secrets he spilled in between the hours of hating her and loving her. Cursing her and praising God for her. Demanding Sirius back and bawling that he'd gone. She listened to him enraptured. There was something more than just pain in his voice. More than just trembles of fear and lumps of sadness. Something more. Something the Death Eaters were too cold to share, and the Order to proud to admit.

Harry shared.

He pushes her against the bedpost and viciously strips her before pushing her down on her knees. Eagerly she takes him as he runs his fingers through her hair. Gripping it hard he slams in and out of her mouth, trying to choke her. He feels the vibrations of her cackle on him.

He knows she knows this is more than just about the pain.