searinox

I had used to make him force me every time, back when I was strong. He would grapple me to the floor, relishing the sensation of my fingernails tearing across his skin, taking the same depraved pleasure he was there to force upon me. Then he'd pour the sickly stuff down my throat, the foul-tasting liquid burning my esophagus, and then- and then I'd feel. Then I'd truly begin to hate myself.

The only casualty from Hogwarts in the battle against the Dark Lord goes unmourned by all but the one who loved him... the one who is willing to do anything to join him in eternal paradise. Angsty little oneshot.