Disgust

A soft click of the dorm door breaks the deep silence of night. A slight creak as he creeps closer, a smirk embedded on his face. You can almost feel his presence, a faint whiff of aftershave floating in the air, his breaths coming heavily. A shudder of nerves covers you in goose pimples. He reaches out and touches you, lightly trailing slim fingers over your bare arm. The bed squeaks in protest as he eases his body next to yours. You can feel his warmth now.

'Strip,' he whispers, right next to your ear, pressing himself against you.

You know that disobeying him would be in vain; he is stronger. He may not look more powerful, but you know. You have felt his arms around you, and realise it. You sigh, and begin dragging your tee shirt slowly over your head. Memories of him are shooting through your mind. Him smiling, laughing, happy. Before he stopped feeling, chained his heart and threw away the last scrap of light left in his now soulless corpse.

He never cried, you remember. Even at the funeral, he remained composed and stony. As they lowered his mother's body into the earth, his emotionless father by his side, his features were locked. After that he changed. The emotions he kept bottled up destroyed him. He couldn't see. Blinded to your feelings, and to his own. You carried on the relationship, in case he needed you. You were too nice. You regret it now.

Shaking, you try to pull down your briefs. It seems impossible to you that the man you once loved has changed into what you see before you. Eyes cold and dark, reflecting your pathetic figure, so much anger, pain, sadness shut away, never revealing anything, livid red scars on his arms from when he tried to release himself, push away from the feeling.

After an age they slip off, leaving you with nothing to protect your thin body. He surveys you, almost like an animal. His eyebrow lazily rises as his eyes roam, raping you with his eyes.

'You've haven't been working out Potter - you are still the same old scrawny boy that I saw last time. You'll do though, I suppose.'

Whatever happened to him calling you Harry? That's gone too, along with everything else you used to love about him. He pounces, viciously kissing you, bruising your lips. Your eyes close, hoping to drift away, lose consciousness maybe. No hope though, as his cold hands travel, taking your heat, keeping you wide-awake. You wish something would happen. Someone in the room waking up, or a teacher hearing noises and coming to investigate - something, anything. He is too clever; he'll never be caught. A quick wave of a wand, a charm murmured against your mouth, and he's safe. You are trapped beneath him. He is getting more aroused, you can feel him pressed against your thigh. You are not even religious, but you pray, not for him to go - you know that is futile, but for it to be over. Your feeble mind doesn't even reject him, allowing him this. Every night he glides in, brutally takes you and you don't even try and stop him. In the beginning you fervently begged him, pleaded to his blank face. So useless. A waste of energy. You have taken the easier road; let him do what he wants. No matter that it is rotting you from the inside, decaying as the pain flows through your veins.

His trousers lay forgotten on the floor, underwear crumpled inside them. His hungry mouth is chewing at your soft lips, chapping. Some blood, but that is normal for you now. Kneeling up, he grabs your hair and shoves you onto his erection, impaling you, gagging. You give him head, all the time thinking about the sweet first kiss, the smell of love, how he tasted on your lips. It's gone now.

He finishes quickly, you can feel the liquid, already putrefying, eating as it trickles down. You fall back, dead inside. He is gazing at you, lust in his eyes. Realisation that he has become a carnivore, tearing at your flesh, nothing more than animal. A jaguar, circling its prey, waiting to strike.

'Turn, on all fours.' The order, obeyed as always.

You are shivering now, knowing what is going to happen next. Powerless to stop him, jailed by your own pity. A single finger draws down your spine, burning as it follows the line of your back. His hands pull apart your legs. You are waiting now. Like knowing a murder will take place, but standing back, watching. He thrusts inside you, scorching agony following. You want to scream, but when you open your mouth to let out the anguish, it catches. So you just grit your teeth. He is clutching your sides, nails cutting into the skin. A salty tear seeps from your scrunched up eyes. A low moan signals that you are close to the end of this torture. You feel him spasm, and with a groan he ejaculates. He lets you go and sits there, trying to calm down. You collapse onto your side, tears flowing freely now, the sobs racking your pitiful body, wanting the throbbing to subside. He stands off the bed, shuffling to where his clothes lie. Flinging them on, he glares in contempt at the wreck shaking on the bed. He bends down close to the form as he buttons up his shirt.

'Thanks...love.'

Sniggering he draws himself up, turning to go. With an after thought, he twists around and spits on the remains, abandoned and forlorn clasping onto the pillow for comfort.

'You disgust me Potter.'

And with that he strides out the door, the sound of your misery reverberating in the muted dark. You can lament, but it is you and only you, that allow this to happen. You disgust me too Potter. I can't stomach any more so I rise from my seat; cast a last disdainful glance at the thing on the bed. He is no longer human. I walk purposefully out the door, throwing away my fleeting good memories of a strong, courageous, young man as I leave. Goodbye Harry.