Title: False Senses
Author: Crimson Nightmare ( )
Furniture: swivel chair
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes:I am very sorry to announce that this try-out for challenge has become a Complete Failure. I had a vague idea, but by the end I just got totally lost. Next time I should take time to actually think about the whole plot before I start writing. Oh, well, that was a try anyways. There�s always the future to improve. If you have any constructive comments or ideas for me to improve, other than grammar (I know it�s bad), please send me an email! Happy to learn!
Warnings: Disturbingly sick. Not sex-related, or psych-related sick, but the setting is quite sick. So beware. Also: please view this whole fic with heavy sarcasm. If you don�t do that than it wouldn�t even border making sense�^^;
The white asylum screamed for water - for no one had had any since last Friday.
"The Itsy-bitsy spider, climbed up the water spout."
Smell that? That is a mixture of sweat, urine, blood, and dirty stuff that someone had just puked all over the floor. Oh, and of course! There's the smell of roses! Isn't that neat? They're all rotten and blackened a few days ago.
"Down came the rain, and washed the spider out."
Hear that? That's the sound of a dying man. Did you know that you could only hear such beautiful sounds when you are at the basement of hospitals? You know, where they kept the dead people who were waiting to be cremated? Except�this one hasn�t died yet�
"Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain"
See that? That is the look of a man named Draco Malfoy - the pale, sharp, arrogant little bastard who cannot take no for an answer. Well, no body had said no to him for quite a while�all right...they�well�can't really say much of anything at all.
"So the itsy-bitsy spider, climbed up the spout again!"
Daddy Malfoy planned it all so perfectly. He had a wife, a house, and a baby boy. This baby boy grew up to be an evil and cold young man like his father wished him to be - The Draco Malfoy - the one who became a Death Eater and the owner-to-be of the Malfoy riches. Later, Daddy Malfoy planned, for Draco to get married to a young, pureblooded witch and become Daddy Malfoy the second. This was all planned. All very carefully invested, prompted, and guarded. It was supposed to be flawless.
Flawless. Interesting term. Daddy Malfoy was so sure he would get to use it, but lo and behold - his son had a flaw! Now, that wouldn't be a flawless plan, would it? Horrified and worried, Daddy Malfoy decided that the best move to make was to force his boy to understand - that the plan SHALL NOT GO WRONG! They are named Malfoys; Malfoy = flawless. Wouldn't you agree, Draco?
Mommy Malfoy was a supportive mom. She supported everyone - Voldemort, Lucius, Heavens, Hell, oh, and please note that her baby dragon was always on her list�just...not very high�Mommy Malfoy liked silence. She was very capable of maintaining it, too. When her baby Draco cried, she had a hand full of scotch tape ready. When her husband bellowed, she gagged little Draco to keep herself quiet. When Voldemort sent His regards, she put the beloved son Draco dear into an elegant sound-prove room - with the Dark Lord. She was very good at her job. Yup, that's Mommy Malfoy to be proud of.
There's Voldemort the Dark Lord With Red Evil Eyes, and there's Dumbledore, the One With The Shiny White Beard. Who is more vicious? Well, don't ask. The answer may be just a little too much for you. Him With The White Light All Around had always smiled with his blue eyes twinkling - wow. The Good Headmaster had considered carefully for Draco's well being - since Draco had a good pair of ears that hears about some interesting stuff in each Death Eater's meetings. These wonderful news would be spoken through Draco's pretty little mouth and reach into The Nice Old Man's ears. Then, Him With The Twinkling Eyes would send little Draco for some more meetings. And then if little Draco were in danger, The Wise Leader would grieve for him for a minute and then go on to find someone else who had good ears just as he.
He was a flaw to the plan, the system, the world and everything in it. He was the right, the wrong, the ups and the downs, and everything in between.
Smell that? He smells so good. Always. Of clean wild grass field after Quidditch and of sweet soap after showers.
Hear that? The lazy, confident echoes of sounds of footsteps down the hall. The healthy, happy humming of a young, good-natured heart that triumphed every morning no matter war or famine.
See that?
That is Harry Potter.
The green eyes that twinkled. The sweet smile that did not reach his eyes. The nice skin that smelled good. And everything else. Forget about the blood on his hands, forget about the dark aura around him, forget about the head of Lucius that was in his left hand. Kiss him. Beg him. Get on your knees and worship him - for the glass of water that was on his other hand. You see him smile at you. Warm and welcoming. You ask for a drop of water. You see him nod.
�You want this?� Green eyes looked at him, smiling as always.
Cough. Yes. Cough. Of�course I do, Potter.
You see his smile turned into a smirk. �Hmm.�
I�m. Cough. Dying here. Potter. Cough. Give�Give�me.
He walks around the swivel chair you previously spun crazily upon. �Hmm.�
DAMMIT POTTER GIVE IT TO ME NOW. Cough. Cough. I�m�I�need�.
His face looked blank. Green eyes looked almost�good. You watch as he walks around to your back � and starts spinning you round and round and round and round�
�Say please Malfoy.� He whispers behind your ear.
You say it immediately. PLEASE!
�Tsk.Tsk. Patience, Malfoy. After all�� You face a pair of venom-colored eyes. You finally understand that such green could never be something good � it could only be poison. �I did kill your father for you.�
What does that have to do with anything? You spat coarsely.
Venom eyes narrowed in something like amusement, yet causing you to flinch.
�Watch your mouth. I could always keep you down here.�
Silence.
�So. Say please, Malfoy.�
What the hell are you playing at, Potter?! You cried. Stop. Stop spinning. Stop it!
�Playing? Oh, you noticed. I�ve learned a new game of sorts, and I�d like to try it on you.�
Do I care? Oh, dizzy. Dizzy. Stop spinning, damn it!
�I learned it in Death Eaters� camp. It�s quite fun. Lots of pain and sex and all the nice stuff.�
What are you getting at, Potter? If this is your idea of entertainment, I think you need to stay here more than I do. And stop spinning, goddamn it!
�But Malfoy, I haven�t gotten my reward for killing Lucius yet.� Venom eyes look at you sideways, a playful glint in them.
I think you�re on drugs, Potter. At least let me off of the chair.
�Why?� The damned boy looks innocently confused. Still spinning you on the damned chair.
I think you really have cracked.
You shrug. �So?�
So I don�t usually have sex with crazy people.
�We could try it now.� You watch dry-lipped as he drinks a mouthful from the glass.
He pulls you over by the back of your chair. Wetness descends upon your dry lips. Ah. Water.
You pull at his tongue more eagerly for any last trace of liquid remaining. He groans and purrs.
�Did you like that?�
Yes.
�Want more?�
Nod.
You see his finger dip into the glass � wet, shimmering. You suck at it hard.
What are you doing, Potter? I know I�m insane but this is what I really call �Crazy.�
�What makes you think I�m doing anything?� He shrugs. �I came here. Planning to 1) fetch you out of this body dump 2) Show you Lucius� head 3) have sex with you 4) take you home to give you a long, thorough bath.�
So that�s how it�s going to be.
�Yup.�
I think you really are crazy.
�Oh and you�re not?�
I�m not, I�m just dying if you don�t give me that water soon.
�---- So can we have sex?�
I see that this is not going anywhere until you get it, huh?
�Un-huh.� You see him nod very happily.
You�re insane.
�We have established that fact long time ago.�
Fine. Come here.
"The Itsy-bitsy spider, climbed up the water spout."
Smell that? That�s the smell of plain sex. The mixture of hormone, sweat, cum, and a bit of blood. The other smell were also there � the sick smell of puke. The metallic smell of dried, old blood. The rotten smell of corpse, rotten roses, and some odor of iodine. Hey, it�s a hospital after all.
"Down came the rain, and washed the spider out."
Hear that? That�s the sound of two insane men, crying out as they both come in the sickly room. The sound of the husky whispers in one another�s ears. The sounds of yelp as one of them collapse after coming. The sound of the thirsty one sucking at every bit of fluid that comes into view. The sounds. Oh, the sounds of sex.
"Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain"
See that? That�s the dying blonde, tied on the spinning swivel chair, sucking and licking desperately at another man�s fingers for more water. The venom eyes of the taller man darted from place to place, but mostly his gaze was on the pale figure on the chair. Water! Water! WATERWATERWATER!
"So the itsy-bitsy spider, climbed up the spout again!"
Can�t you smell it? Can�t you hear it? Can�t you see?
There is no ending.
There�s nothing here.
End.
Empty.
Nothing.
Gone.
Gone.
Gone.