SLASH FIC: Undercover 1/? [Harry Potter]
Title: Undercover
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: FR-21
Pairing: listed at the end
Warning: disturbing imagery. violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
LiveJournal: http://feygan.livejournal.com
Home: http://www.darkgesture.com/fanfiction.htm
.
This story follows "Speak Not" and "Lest Thee Be Judged."
.
.
He was recruited the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts, though no one was ever supposed to know about his real role in the War.
It was hard pretending that he was still a self-involved little boy with no clue about the realities of the world. It was painful to realize that his own family actually bought the act, but that was the point of his acting like a complete git. He was supposed to fool everyone in his entire life, and that was exactly what he had done. It was for the greater good and he had always been a believer in the overriding splendor of order, no matter what it took to find it.
Being labeled a betrayer of his family and all that they stood for made him ache inside, but he allowed nothing to show on the outside. He had a duty to perform and not even the emotional pain reverberating through him was going to slow him down. Which is how he ended up here, dressed simply in a dark red dressing gown and nothing else, his bare toes curling and uncurling against the fat pile of pillows.
He probably should have been nervous, but he wasn't. He knew that what he was about to do was for the best. Besides, in the seven years that he had been building up his cover, he had done many nightmare worthy things, and what was to take place tonight was the payoff for all of the horror he had endured. There was no room in him for real fear.
The door opened and he fell deeper into his lounging pose, letting his legs fall seductively loose and half-closed his eyes in lazy-seeming wait. He looked like he was ready for a bout of mindless pleasure. He was just glad that no one could hear the pounding of his heart as adrenaline flooded through him.
This was it. This was what it was all about.
Voldemort was just as ugly as at their last meeting. Grey cast skin over skeletal bones, with red eyes burning like malevolent lanterns. Only right now, they were burning with more than power-hungry madness and a desire for revenge against the wizarding world. Right now, they were filled with lust as he drank in the figure on the bed.
"Well, my pet certainly has good taste," Voldemort rasped.
He shivered, his eyes going dark with what he hoped the Dark Lord would take for desire. "I have been waiting for you, my lord," he said in his most cultured tones. No one that heard him would ever realize that his family was solidly on the poorer side of middle class, never mind their Pure Blood status.
"As I can see," Voldemort said, gliding forward. Several followers made to join him in the room, but he waved them back. "No. This one has proven his loyalty time and again. I do not need you with me. Come back when I Call you."
Hodges, Nabt, and Visidious nodded and left. They didn't dare go against their lord's orders, and besides, they knew that the Dark Lord's new toy had shown his loyalty by breaking with his family, turning against the Ministry, and betraying nearly everyone in his life. He had never joined in the revels, but that was not why he was here. He was not a regular Death Eater. He was the personal plaything of Lord Voldemort and was thus to be protected against all harm.
Letting a smile curve his lips, the young man brought one hand across his bare chest, brushing against his right nipple. He could feel those burning red eyes focusing on the hardened nub as Voldemort stalked forward, the door slamming shut behind him.
"You are just as beautiful as the last time I saw you," Voldemort said, knee-crawling toward him over the silken bedclothes.
Tossing his head a little, the young man let his hair fall over his eyes and half across his face, leaving only his mouth visible. He licked his lips until they shone wetly. He arched his back a little and brushed his left foot against Voldemort's bone-thin thigh. "I have been waiting for you, my lord," he said again, spreading his legs and undulating his body until the robe fell fully open, revealing his erection to those hungry eyes.
"I see that you are ready," Voldemort said, his snakelike tongue flicking out to taste the air as he loomed over the younger man, crawling up between his legs.
The young man wrapped his legs around Voldemort, pressing his hardness up against the Dark Lord's stomach, gently rocking his hips. "Lucius has told me all about what you like," he said. "I so want to please you. Do you think that I can... please you?"
"Oh yes, little dove, that is exactly what you are going to do." Spider hands stroked across milk-pale skin that obediently did not flinch away from that cold, slimy touch.
"You are perfect," Voldemort said, leaning down for a kiss that the younger man reciprocated, their tongues melding between them.
As the Dark Lord reached between their bodies and began stroking his erection, the young man allowed the real portions of his mind to close down and let his body respond as it had been trained to. He moaned and arched and when he was finally penetrated, he simply wasn't there.
.
He snapped back to awareness after it was all over. His eyes just flicked open and he was awake and ready.
He turned his head and saw that Voldemort was drowsing beside him, the Dark Lord's protections lowered by the afterglow. Voldemort's wand was on the bedside table, just out of easy reach.
The young man's body flowed with a terrible gracefulness as he flipped up off the bed and twisted in mid-air to land knees-first on Voldemort's chest with a crunch of broken bone.
"What... what are you doing?" Voldemort demanded in a pained voice as his terrible eyes shot open. He tried to raise his arms, but the young man was kneeling on them.
"What I have been trained to do," the young man said, his right fist striking with viper speed.
Years of preparation had gone into turning him into the weapon that he had become. Under the careful layers of masking spells, his body had been enhanced to a point that could only be described as superhuman. Strength, speed, agility--they had been burned into his body before he had reached full growth so that they had become a real part of him over the years and now could never be taken away.
His fist went through the hard shell of Voldemort's skull as though it was made of Styrofoam. Blood and brains burst out across the black pillow and he felt a few drops of color splatter against his pale skin.
Slipping off the bed, he wiped his hand clean on the sheet. His job was almost done here.
Pulling his wand out from under the neatly folded pile of his clothes, he pointed it at the dead body. "Destructus absoluto," he said with a flick of the wrist. There was a spill of silver from the tip of his wand, then Voldemort's body was rendered into little more than ash that quickly dissolved to nothing.
Something like victory wanted to jolt through him, but he quickly tamped it down. He knew that none of this counted if he didn't make it away alive to report what he had done.
He shook out his clothes and began letting his escape plans flow through his mind. There was no room for mistake.
Just as he had finished dressing and was about to leave, the door began to swing open. His wand flicked up lightning fast and he took aim, his mouth drawing tight and his body going tense in preparedness for what needed to be done.
He saw the blond hair first, then focused on the aristocratic features and the chilly grey eyes. A fierce joy burned through him, but nothing showed on his face.
"Avada Kadavera," he enunciated carefully, watching the virulent green shoot from the end of his wand to hit his victim in a splash of murderous color.
Lucius Malfoy's mouth opened in a soundless scream, then his body collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. It was actually rather anticlimactic considering the death he had dreamed of for Lucius.
He stepped over the body on his way out the door. He needed to be off the protected grounds before someone thought to check on Voldemort and what he had done was realized.
He figured he had roughly fifteen minutes to get on the other side of the anti-apparation shield and disappear from here. Plenty of time.
* * *
Everything that Harry Potter had been fighting so long for was realized in a two week period during his seventh year, and he was not a part of the effort. The first clue he received that the entire order of the world had changed came while he was eating his breakfast.
Hedwig came winging in with the morning mail, which included his copy of the Daily Prophet.
He was shoving food into his mouth while picking through the paper, when the headline caught his eyes and he almost choked to death.
"Holy shite!" He blindly reached out and grabbed Ron's sleeve, pulling the red head close enough to see.
"What the... Harry, what are you..." Ron's voice trailed off and his eyes went wide as he took in what Harry was frantically trying to get him to see. "Holy shite!"
Everything changed that morning, and Harry didn't quite know how to deal with it.
He had been "Harry Potter, hero" for so long that he didn't know how to be anything else. Everyone had just kind of assumed that he was going to be the one to take out Voldemort once and for all, and he had eventually begun to believe it for himself. But that was not what had happened.
Voldemort had been destroyed, and Harry Potter had had nothing to do with it.
Percy Weasley was a hero of the wizarding world. He was the man that killed Voldemort and ended the War once and for all. Not Harry Potter. Perfect Percy Weasley.
TBC...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The pairings here are: Percy/Lucius, Percy/Voldemort, Percy/Penelope, Bill/Snape
This story came about because I simply could not believe that Percy would betray his family like that. I hate the thought of him being such a little asshole, so I felt the need to give him a reason to act like that other than the "he's just a jerk" angle. I hope you enjoyed this little jaunt into the weird and twisted tangle that is my mind.
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: FR-21
Pairing: listed at the end
Warning: disturbing imagery. violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
LiveJournal: http://feygan.livejournal.com
Home: http://www.darkgesture.com/fanfiction.htm
.
This story follows "Speak Not" and "Lest Thee Be Judged."
.
.
He was recruited the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts, though no one was ever supposed to know about his real role in the War.
It was hard pretending that he was still a self-involved little boy with no clue about the realities of the world. It was painful to realize that his own family actually bought the act, but that was the point of his acting like a complete git. He was supposed to fool everyone in his entire life, and that was exactly what he had done. It was for the greater good and he had always been a believer in the overriding splendor of order, no matter what it took to find it.
Being labeled a betrayer of his family and all that they stood for made him ache inside, but he allowed nothing to show on the outside. He had a duty to perform and not even the emotional pain reverberating through him was going to slow him down. Which is how he ended up here, dressed simply in a dark red dressing gown and nothing else, his bare toes curling and uncurling against the fat pile of pillows.
He probably should have been nervous, but he wasn't. He knew that what he was about to do was for the best. Besides, in the seven years that he had been building up his cover, he had done many nightmare worthy things, and what was to take place tonight was the payoff for all of the horror he had endured. There was no room in him for real fear.
The door opened and he fell deeper into his lounging pose, letting his legs fall seductively loose and half-closed his eyes in lazy-seeming wait. He looked like he was ready for a bout of mindless pleasure. He was just glad that no one could hear the pounding of his heart as adrenaline flooded through him.
This was it. This was what it was all about.
Voldemort was just as ugly as at their last meeting. Grey cast skin over skeletal bones, with red eyes burning like malevolent lanterns. Only right now, they were burning with more than power-hungry madness and a desire for revenge against the wizarding world. Right now, they were filled with lust as he drank in the figure on the bed.
"Well, my pet certainly has good taste," Voldemort rasped.
He shivered, his eyes going dark with what he hoped the Dark Lord would take for desire. "I have been waiting for you, my lord," he said in his most cultured tones. No one that heard him would ever realize that his family was solidly on the poorer side of middle class, never mind their Pure Blood status.
"As I can see," Voldemort said, gliding forward. Several followers made to join him in the room, but he waved them back. "No. This one has proven his loyalty time and again. I do not need you with me. Come back when I Call you."
Hodges, Nabt, and Visidious nodded and left. They didn't dare go against their lord's orders, and besides, they knew that the Dark Lord's new toy had shown his loyalty by breaking with his family, turning against the Ministry, and betraying nearly everyone in his life. He had never joined in the revels, but that was not why he was here. He was not a regular Death Eater. He was the personal plaything of Lord Voldemort and was thus to be protected against all harm.
Letting a smile curve his lips, the young man brought one hand across his bare chest, brushing against his right nipple. He could feel those burning red eyes focusing on the hardened nub as Voldemort stalked forward, the door slamming shut behind him.
"You are just as beautiful as the last time I saw you," Voldemort said, knee-crawling toward him over the silken bedclothes.
Tossing his head a little, the young man let his hair fall over his eyes and half across his face, leaving only his mouth visible. He licked his lips until they shone wetly. He arched his back a little and brushed his left foot against Voldemort's bone-thin thigh. "I have been waiting for you, my lord," he said again, spreading his legs and undulating his body until the robe fell fully open, revealing his erection to those hungry eyes.
"I see that you are ready," Voldemort said, his snakelike tongue flicking out to taste the air as he loomed over the younger man, crawling up between his legs.
The young man wrapped his legs around Voldemort, pressing his hardness up against the Dark Lord's stomach, gently rocking his hips. "Lucius has told me all about what you like," he said. "I so want to please you. Do you think that I can... please you?"
"Oh yes, little dove, that is exactly what you are going to do." Spider hands stroked across milk-pale skin that obediently did not flinch away from that cold, slimy touch.
"You are perfect," Voldemort said, leaning down for a kiss that the younger man reciprocated, their tongues melding between them.
As the Dark Lord reached between their bodies and began stroking his erection, the young man allowed the real portions of his mind to close down and let his body respond as it had been trained to. He moaned and arched and when he was finally penetrated, he simply wasn't there.
.
He snapped back to awareness after it was all over. His eyes just flicked open and he was awake and ready.
He turned his head and saw that Voldemort was drowsing beside him, the Dark Lord's protections lowered by the afterglow. Voldemort's wand was on the bedside table, just out of easy reach.
The young man's body flowed with a terrible gracefulness as he flipped up off the bed and twisted in mid-air to land knees-first on Voldemort's chest with a crunch of broken bone.
"What... what are you doing?" Voldemort demanded in a pained voice as his terrible eyes shot open. He tried to raise his arms, but the young man was kneeling on them.
"What I have been trained to do," the young man said, his right fist striking with viper speed.
Years of preparation had gone into turning him into the weapon that he had become. Under the careful layers of masking spells, his body had been enhanced to a point that could only be described as superhuman. Strength, speed, agility--they had been burned into his body before he had reached full growth so that they had become a real part of him over the years and now could never be taken away.
His fist went through the hard shell of Voldemort's skull as though it was made of Styrofoam. Blood and brains burst out across the black pillow and he felt a few drops of color splatter against his pale skin.
Slipping off the bed, he wiped his hand clean on the sheet. His job was almost done here.
Pulling his wand out from under the neatly folded pile of his clothes, he pointed it at the dead body. "Destructus absoluto," he said with a flick of the wrist. There was a spill of silver from the tip of his wand, then Voldemort's body was rendered into little more than ash that quickly dissolved to nothing.
Something like victory wanted to jolt through him, but he quickly tamped it down. He knew that none of this counted if he didn't make it away alive to report what he had done.
He shook out his clothes and began letting his escape plans flow through his mind. There was no room for mistake.
Just as he had finished dressing and was about to leave, the door began to swing open. His wand flicked up lightning fast and he took aim, his mouth drawing tight and his body going tense in preparedness for what needed to be done.
He saw the blond hair first, then focused on the aristocratic features and the chilly grey eyes. A fierce joy burned through him, but nothing showed on his face.
"Avada Kadavera," he enunciated carefully, watching the virulent green shoot from the end of his wand to hit his victim in a splash of murderous color.
Lucius Malfoy's mouth opened in a soundless scream, then his body collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. It was actually rather anticlimactic considering the death he had dreamed of for Lucius.
He stepped over the body on his way out the door. He needed to be off the protected grounds before someone thought to check on Voldemort and what he had done was realized.
He figured he had roughly fifteen minutes to get on the other side of the anti-apparation shield and disappear from here. Plenty of time.
* * *
Everything that Harry Potter had been fighting so long for was realized in a two week period during his seventh year, and he was not a part of the effort. The first clue he received that the entire order of the world had changed came while he was eating his breakfast.
Hedwig came winging in with the morning mail, which included his copy of the Daily Prophet.
He was shoving food into his mouth while picking through the paper, when the headline caught his eyes and he almost choked to death.
"Holy shite!" He blindly reached out and grabbed Ron's sleeve, pulling the red head close enough to see.
"What the... Harry, what are you..." Ron's voice trailed off and his eyes went wide as he took in what Harry was frantically trying to get him to see. "Holy shite!"
Everything changed that morning, and Harry didn't quite know how to deal with it.
He had been "Harry Potter, hero" for so long that he didn't know how to be anything else. Everyone had just kind of assumed that he was going to be the one to take out Voldemort once and for all, and he had eventually begun to believe it for himself. But that was not what had happened.
Voldemort had been destroyed, and Harry Potter had had nothing to do with it.
Percy Weasley was a hero of the wizarding world. He was the man that killed Voldemort and ended the War once and for all. Not Harry Potter. Perfect Percy Weasley.
TBC...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The pairings here are: Percy/Lucius, Percy/Voldemort, Percy/Penelope, Bill/Snape
This story came about because I simply could not believe that Percy would betray his family like that. I hate the thought of him being such a little asshole, so I felt the need to give him a reason to act like that other than the "he's just a jerk" angle. I hope you enjoyed this little jaunt into the weird and twisted tangle that is my mind.