-oi, no clue exactly how good this might be, but it may not have a specific lemon in it, so don't go chanting it at me like a mnatra in hopes I'll make one, even though I seem to convey sexual tension quite easily as reviewers have so often told me on my 'Lost Within' fanfic S/K- ho hum....anywho, this will be a D/H fanfiction, though not a very...nice one more or less...
If you don't like reading about: rape-physical abuse-emotional abuse-sexual abuse-domination-aggressive behavior-growling-biting-possessive copacities to the state of obsession-leather-pale flesh-flesh bites-verbal abuse and the general like of darkness of loveliness...turn your ass around and trot on out to safer, possibly more happier ending fanfics (no clue how it's going to end yet but it's iffy on whether or not its a happy ending) ---
To Possess the Light
Chapter 1: Damned Abomination
It was the very day he should be returning back to Hogwarts for his 6th year, already at the age of seventeen... Fortunately or not, depending on one's morals or honor codes... he'd be returning without the Dark Mark upon his pale flesh. Though, he still questioned whether or not it had been wise to turn it down.
After all, power was power, no matter where the fuck it came from.
Fuck...hmmm....
He smirked.
Swiftly opening several drawers and closets he disappeared through one door to appear out another, several articles of clothing along with a pair of black boots with straps and buckles on them. He liked the boots, gotten them at some muggle shop, along with several of the same pair...
Slipping out of his silken pajamas he tugged on a pair of black knee socks then pulled his leather pants on; he favored this particular pair over all his leather trousers, for on the left side, was a thin black rope laced down to his ankles, clearly showing a thin strip of pale flesh from his sock covered ankles up to his bare waist, clearly showing he wore not undergarments . . .
With a surpressed yawn he pulled the skin-tight vinyl muscle-tee turtle-neck over his head, smoothing the bottom over his skin-tight pants; sitting on the edge of his massive four-poster, yanking the legs of his jeans up so as to put his boots on and lace them up, his mind began to wander as it often did during such . . . nuetral moments in his life.
His thoughts drifted to the Dark Mark, which he'd refused; to say the least, his father was disappointed, to say the most, he was furious.
A grin spread over his lips as he remembered being smacked across the back several times with his fathers cane after apparating home from the Death Eaters Initiation; a shallow laugh forced itself from his lips . . .
He'd turned down the offer down for a series of reasons, namely the reason of not wanting to be owned, or under *anyones* rule of having to obey every whim of some idiot 'lord'. But at another thought, his mind tripped over a small, tappering and worn memory, much beaten and bruised; of a shy young boy standing upon a stool, hair tousled, wire-rimmed glasses freshly broken, bright green eyes unsure of themselves and seeming quite out of place from his current surroundings as a seamstress took his measurements.
A snarl ripped from his throat as he slammed his boot-clad foot down, smoothing out his leather pants, standing tall.
Potter,
The-Boy-Who-Lived,
Harry,
Harry Potter . . .
The-Bloody-Fuckin'-Thorn-In-His-Libido.
Yeah, you read damn-fuckin' right. Libido: psychic energy derived from basic biological urges; ones sexual drive. *That* libido. To say he was loose with the woman would be an understatement; to say he was a walking cock or much more known as a 'Sex God'- would fit just about right.
He'd probably slept with the entire fucking school already save the new first years and a few of the professors; and of course, the bloody wonder boy himself.
He growled again, pacing in front of his large window absently.
That wasn't what bugged him, no....no no no...that wasn't it at all...*It* was the fact that the stupid git didn't see him in that light, never once blushed at an innuendo, batted an eye at a sexual advance, *never* once having caught on or just plain refused to all of his advances.
The question wasn't just why, it was how.
How the ponce did it, how he fuckin' managed to *not* try and touch, to gaze at him longlingly just fuckin' once.
*That* was what he wanted to figure out.
Raking a hand through his platinum blonde hair he growled softly, chewing on his bottom lip in thought.
This year he would *make* the twat *see* him like that, he'd be damned sure of it, or he wasn't a bloody Malfoy.
"Come dear master, it's time to see you off to the train station! Everything is already packed for you young sir," A small house elf bowed quickly, disappearing with an instantaneous 'pop!'
Well, time to go then.
-
"-And if you even *think* of telling those filthy weirdos about *anything* and you'll be begging for the cubboard under the stairs do you hear me brat?!" Vernon Dursley yelled threateningly, backhanding the young teenager almost eagerly.
"-Yes Uncle Vernon." came the subdued, almost raspy reply from Harry Potter.
"Now get your rubbish into the car, don't keep me waiting *boy! -You *KNOW* what happens when you keep me waiting don't you?" Vernon intoned questioningly.
"Yes Uncle Vernon, I'll be quick." Harry murmured, dashing up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.
"You *are* quick." Vernon smirked to himself, ignoring his somewhat fearful looking wife to go wait out in the car.
Tugging on an over-sized black, turtle-neck shirt and a pair of baggy jeans he grabbed his backpack and Hedwig's cage then darted downstairs; his trunk was already in the car.
A few more hours . . . and I'll be free.
But that was only a small consolation for the bloodied bandages that rubbed against his fresh wounds; he winced as he sat down inside the backseat of the car, scrunched up to the side of the car door, as far from Uncle Vernon as he could possibly get.
Uncle Vernon might *treat* him again, he'd done so in the car before, which had sufficiently warned Harry that he wasn't safe anywhere in the muggle world with Vernon within sight.
Pulling the sleeves back from his bandaged wrists he glanced down at the bloodied white bandages; he'd have to learn a few more healing spells and then use them as soon as he set foot on Hogwarts, he didn't want scars on his body to remind him of the Dursleys, the ones he had on his soul were burden enough.
-Well I like this as a start, don't know about the rest of you, but just from this chapter, I'm telling you their is going to be a shiteload of not-so-nice stuff in here. r/r or no more yum chaps-
If you don't like reading about: rape-physical abuse-emotional abuse-sexual abuse-domination-aggressive behavior-growling-biting-possessive copacities to the state of obsession-leather-pale flesh-flesh bites-verbal abuse and the general like of darkness of loveliness...turn your ass around and trot on out to safer, possibly more happier ending fanfics (no clue how it's going to end yet but it's iffy on whether or not its a happy ending) ---
To Possess the Light
Chapter 1: Damned Abomination
It was the very day he should be returning back to Hogwarts for his 6th year, already at the age of seventeen... Fortunately or not, depending on one's morals or honor codes... he'd be returning without the Dark Mark upon his pale flesh. Though, he still questioned whether or not it had been wise to turn it down.
After all, power was power, no matter where the fuck it came from.
Fuck...hmmm....
He smirked.
Swiftly opening several drawers and closets he disappeared through one door to appear out another, several articles of clothing along with a pair of black boots with straps and buckles on them. He liked the boots, gotten them at some muggle shop, along with several of the same pair...
Slipping out of his silken pajamas he tugged on a pair of black knee socks then pulled his leather pants on; he favored this particular pair over all his leather trousers, for on the left side, was a thin black rope laced down to his ankles, clearly showing a thin strip of pale flesh from his sock covered ankles up to his bare waist, clearly showing he wore not undergarments . . .
With a surpressed yawn he pulled the skin-tight vinyl muscle-tee turtle-neck over his head, smoothing the bottom over his skin-tight pants; sitting on the edge of his massive four-poster, yanking the legs of his jeans up so as to put his boots on and lace them up, his mind began to wander as it often did during such . . . nuetral moments in his life.
His thoughts drifted to the Dark Mark, which he'd refused; to say the least, his father was disappointed, to say the most, he was furious.
A grin spread over his lips as he remembered being smacked across the back several times with his fathers cane after apparating home from the Death Eaters Initiation; a shallow laugh forced itself from his lips . . .
He'd turned down the offer down for a series of reasons, namely the reason of not wanting to be owned, or under *anyones* rule of having to obey every whim of some idiot 'lord'. But at another thought, his mind tripped over a small, tappering and worn memory, much beaten and bruised; of a shy young boy standing upon a stool, hair tousled, wire-rimmed glasses freshly broken, bright green eyes unsure of themselves and seeming quite out of place from his current surroundings as a seamstress took his measurements.
A snarl ripped from his throat as he slammed his boot-clad foot down, smoothing out his leather pants, standing tall.
Potter,
The-Boy-Who-Lived,
Harry,
Harry Potter . . .
The-Bloody-Fuckin'-Thorn-In-His-Libido.
Yeah, you read damn-fuckin' right. Libido: psychic energy derived from basic biological urges; ones sexual drive. *That* libido. To say he was loose with the woman would be an understatement; to say he was a walking cock or much more known as a 'Sex God'- would fit just about right.
He'd probably slept with the entire fucking school already save the new first years and a few of the professors; and of course, the bloody wonder boy himself.
He growled again, pacing in front of his large window absently.
That wasn't what bugged him, no....no no no...that wasn't it at all...*It* was the fact that the stupid git didn't see him in that light, never once blushed at an innuendo, batted an eye at a sexual advance, *never* once having caught on or just plain refused to all of his advances.
The question wasn't just why, it was how.
How the ponce did it, how he fuckin' managed to *not* try and touch, to gaze at him longlingly just fuckin' once.
*That* was what he wanted to figure out.
Raking a hand through his platinum blonde hair he growled softly, chewing on his bottom lip in thought.
This year he would *make* the twat *see* him like that, he'd be damned sure of it, or he wasn't a bloody Malfoy.
"Come dear master, it's time to see you off to the train station! Everything is already packed for you young sir," A small house elf bowed quickly, disappearing with an instantaneous 'pop!'
Well, time to go then.
-
"-And if you even *think* of telling those filthy weirdos about *anything* and you'll be begging for the cubboard under the stairs do you hear me brat?!" Vernon Dursley yelled threateningly, backhanding the young teenager almost eagerly.
"-Yes Uncle Vernon." came the subdued, almost raspy reply from Harry Potter.
"Now get your rubbish into the car, don't keep me waiting *boy! -You *KNOW* what happens when you keep me waiting don't you?" Vernon intoned questioningly.
"Yes Uncle Vernon, I'll be quick." Harry murmured, dashing up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.
"You *are* quick." Vernon smirked to himself, ignoring his somewhat fearful looking wife to go wait out in the car.
Tugging on an over-sized black, turtle-neck shirt and a pair of baggy jeans he grabbed his backpack and Hedwig's cage then darted downstairs; his trunk was already in the car.
A few more hours . . . and I'll be free.
But that was only a small consolation for the bloodied bandages that rubbed against his fresh wounds; he winced as he sat down inside the backseat of the car, scrunched up to the side of the car door, as far from Uncle Vernon as he could possibly get.
Uncle Vernon might *treat* him again, he'd done so in the car before, which had sufficiently warned Harry that he wasn't safe anywhere in the muggle world with Vernon within sight.
Pulling the sleeves back from his bandaged wrists he glanced down at the bloodied white bandages; he'd have to learn a few more healing spells and then use them as soon as he set foot on Hogwarts, he didn't want scars on his body to remind him of the Dursleys, the ones he had on his soul were burden enough.
-Well I like this as a start, don't know about the rest of you, but just from this chapter, I'm telling you their is going to be a shiteload of not-so-nice stuff in here. r/r or no more yum chaps-