The dark side won
The dark side won
In the end, the Boy-Who-Lived always saves the day, right? Not in these stories! Oh, no! What will happen to our favorite couple? Take a walk on the dark side, and check out these stories where Voldemort wins the war.
Match the story to the quote:
The Long Black Coat by Blood Cult of Freud
The Man Who Sold the World by Meggory (WIP)
What Could Have Been by VanityFair
The Prisoner " by Drusillas Little Boot
Nocturne by Dutchy (WIP)
Corvus Fallere Book 1 by Mouse
The Dark Side Won by Pearle
The Dark Side Won Redux by Pearle
The Deception by ubiquirk
The Bloody Stare of Mars by Yahtzee
Awake by Natasha_Von_Snape
1. No sign Potter. Still hiding,” he informs me.
“Not dead yet.”
A puff of amusement whispers across my neck, and the extra buck of his hips causes a pulse of painful pleasure as he taps my cervix.
“There?” He bucks again.
“Umm,” I hum in approval. I long to arch to meet him, but can’t. I’m frozen because I don’t have enough control not to move - especially with the Vibraro charm stimulating my nub.
“Lucius?” I ask.
“Still watching.”
2. I look at her and anger surges through me. She is a reminder of what I lost. It is not her fault that the events turned out the way they did, but I blame her none the less. My Lord has seen fit to reward me for a job well done. She is mine, to do as I wish. The collar she wears around her neck proclaims her to be my property.
Lucius practically drools at the sight of my little pet lioness. He tried to claim her for his own little toy. My Lord thought I would enjoy ravaging the bane of my existence, if my rants were to be believed. Potter’s best friend, she is a child, barely eighteen. My tastes run to older, more experienced women.
3. Those of you with Viridans Sphaerae please queue up on the left wall, those with Auraria Sphaerae on the right."
Nobody moved, other than Ron, who was stirring slowly. Snape sighed, his lips curled in annoyance. "No wonder you all do so horribly in school; your Latin is piss-poor. I should just toss you a lexicon and make you look it up, but I haven't the time. Let me speak in terms you will understand. Green ball left, golden ball right." He gestured widely at the walls.
Still, nobody moved. Snape's eyes moved over us, flicking from our faces to the Sphaerae bobbing over each of our heads before moving on. I thought I saw his eyes widen a tiny bit when he got to me, but I wasn't sure.
"Come now, even you group of complete imbeciles can understand that. Move, now."
"With all due respect, sir," Hermione said, in her perfect schoolgirl voice, "And I think I speak collectively for the group when I say, go fuck yourself, you perfidious, black hearted bastard."
I gaped at her.
4. She doesn’t care overly much for fiction, but she consoled herself with the fact that she’d always wanted to read Wuthering Heights, but never yet found the time.
She thought about reading it slowly, dolling out chapters sparingly to give herself something to look forward to. She had no idea when she would be permitted another text. But the process repeated the next week when he called her to his bed again. She prepared herself, she fell into sleep’s embrace, woke cradling a book like a child’s stuffed toy. She tries not to think about the bit in between.
5. Ginny smiles dreamily. "Yes. He brought me along for the trip, isn't that sweet? Pity Snape has such a dreary little house. Malfoy Manor is much bigger, and my apartment's all in pretty shades of pink and yellow - can you believe Draco gave me my own apartment?"
"Ginny, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong, I'm just so terribly lucky..."
"Lucky?" I step back and scrutinize her.
She's too giddy, too prettily dressed and bubbly and shallow and silly. A thread of revulsion works through me, and I hope I'm wrong, pray that I'm wrong. If I'm right, I'll have no respect left for her.
"Why, because you have the chance to fuck him?" I demand.
6. Our lords require us to throw any child displaying magical abilities into the fire. It burns green and never leaves the mother with so much as ash or bone.
Hermione assures me, like the village wizard assures the weeping mothers, that the child is not dead, only gone, but I can't bring myself to completely trust her. I can never forget she's one of them. I wish she had never been born.
She is twenty-four, too old to go into the fire. She pretends at Mugglehood. All her friends were killed in the war. They fought against the coming of the Great Lord. She believes she would be executed were she found out. I find it hard to believe a schoolgirl even came to the attention of the Great Lord.
7. "There's someone you'll want to see," Luna said.
This was slightly more concrete than most of Luna's messages; against her will, Hermione felt a faint tickle of curiosity. "Who's that? Another messenger?"
Luna shook her head; she didn't look directly at Hermione, but in the newsstand window, Hermione could see a reflected smile. "Remus Lupin's in Tartrosgate."
Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out the name. Remus Lupin! Alive! Then her brain absorbed the rest of the message, and her heart plunged - in Tartrosgate? Oh, but it was better than him being dead. Wasn't it? Her mind whirling, she whispered, "How did you hear?"
"Can't say. Firenze is with him."
8. “Pity you haven’t learned one of the basic rules of your new existence: do not count on me to do what you think will be right, or fair. Your eyes fly open at the feel of my free hand softly pressing against your throat. Maybe you have learned more than I realised. You try to buck against my hand, reaching for one last orgasm before I fully cut off your air supply. It appears you would almost welcome death.
Sorry to disappoint you; I’m enjoying your training too much to let you go just yet. Your eyes fly open as I take your bound body, my hand at your throat eases a little, allowing just enough air to survive.
I’m sorry, pet. Death is not an option for you at this time. It would be rude of me to destroy a gift so graciously given to me by My Lord.
9. “I apologize, Lord Snape,” Madame Lareine’s voice told him, muffled by the door. “Our house will be closing in ten minutes.”
And that brought reality crashing back down on him. It had been so easy to forget, frighteningly easy to fall into the illusion of significance. But with that simple statement, he was reminded that he was in a brothel and having paid sex at the Dark Lord’s insistence. Closing his eyes, he sat up and swung his feet from the bed, resting his elbows on his knees to bury his face in his hands. A touch on his scalp brought his attention back to the other occupant of the room, slender fingers combing gently through his hair.
10. The leather of his glove was warm and impersonal as he tickled the base of her throat. “I was going to follow you home yesterday and make you show me that spirit.” Suddenly his fingers wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze. “But I didn’t get that chance. So I will do it now.”
Air was becoming as foreign to her lungs as water; Hermione made whistling, gasping sounds as his hands flexed more tightly around her windpipe. She pulled hard away from him but his other hand had a steel grip. Panic rose in her, making thought and fight difficult.
“Lucius, must you continue to manhandle the servants? It’s getting harder and harder to find good help these days.” The voice of her saviour echoed in the large office and suddenly air was rushing into her lungs.
In the end, the Boy-Who-Lived always saves the day, right? Not in these stories! Oh, no! What will happen to our favorite couple? Take a walk on the dark side, and check out these stories where Voldemort wins the war.
Match the story to the quote:
The Long Black Coat by Blood Cult of Freud
The Man Who Sold the World by Meggory (WIP)
What Could Have Been by VanityFair
The Prisoner " by Drusillas Little Boot
Nocturne by Dutchy (WIP)
Corvus Fallere Book 1 by Mouse
The Dark Side Won by Pearle
The Dark Side Won Redux by Pearle
The Deception by ubiquirk
The Bloody Stare of Mars by Yahtzee
Awake by Natasha_Von_Snape
1. No sign Potter. Still hiding,” he informs me.
“Not dead yet.”
A puff of amusement whispers across my neck, and the extra buck of his hips causes a pulse of painful pleasure as he taps my cervix.
“There?” He bucks again.
“Umm,” I hum in approval. I long to arch to meet him, but can’t. I’m frozen because I don’t have enough control not to move - especially with the Vibraro charm stimulating my nub.
“Lucius?” I ask.
“Still watching.”
2. I look at her and anger surges through me. She is a reminder of what I lost. It is not her fault that the events turned out the way they did, but I blame her none the less. My Lord has seen fit to reward me for a job well done. She is mine, to do as I wish. The collar she wears around her neck proclaims her to be my property.
Lucius practically drools at the sight of my little pet lioness. He tried to claim her for his own little toy. My Lord thought I would enjoy ravaging the bane of my existence, if my rants were to be believed. Potter’s best friend, she is a child, barely eighteen. My tastes run to older, more experienced women.
3. Those of you with Viridans Sphaerae please queue up on the left wall, those with Auraria Sphaerae on the right."
Nobody moved, other than Ron, who was stirring slowly. Snape sighed, his lips curled in annoyance. "No wonder you all do so horribly in school; your Latin is piss-poor. I should just toss you a lexicon and make you look it up, but I haven't the time. Let me speak in terms you will understand. Green ball left, golden ball right." He gestured widely at the walls.
Still, nobody moved. Snape's eyes moved over us, flicking from our faces to the Sphaerae bobbing over each of our heads before moving on. I thought I saw his eyes widen a tiny bit when he got to me, but I wasn't sure.
"Come now, even you group of complete imbeciles can understand that. Move, now."
"With all due respect, sir," Hermione said, in her perfect schoolgirl voice, "And I think I speak collectively for the group when I say, go fuck yourself, you perfidious, black hearted bastard."
I gaped at her.
4. She doesn’t care overly much for fiction, but she consoled herself with the fact that she’d always wanted to read Wuthering Heights, but never yet found the time.
She thought about reading it slowly, dolling out chapters sparingly to give herself something to look forward to. She had no idea when she would be permitted another text. But the process repeated the next week when he called her to his bed again. She prepared herself, she fell into sleep’s embrace, woke cradling a book like a child’s stuffed toy. She tries not to think about the bit in between.
5. Ginny smiles dreamily. "Yes. He brought me along for the trip, isn't that sweet? Pity Snape has such a dreary little house. Malfoy Manor is much bigger, and my apartment's all in pretty shades of pink and yellow - can you believe Draco gave me my own apartment?"
"Ginny, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong, I'm just so terribly lucky..."
"Lucky?" I step back and scrutinize her.
She's too giddy, too prettily dressed and bubbly and shallow and silly. A thread of revulsion works through me, and I hope I'm wrong, pray that I'm wrong. If I'm right, I'll have no respect left for her.
"Why, because you have the chance to fuck him?" I demand.
6. Our lords require us to throw any child displaying magical abilities into the fire. It burns green and never leaves the mother with so much as ash or bone.
Hermione assures me, like the village wizard assures the weeping mothers, that the child is not dead, only gone, but I can't bring myself to completely trust her. I can never forget she's one of them. I wish she had never been born.
She is twenty-four, too old to go into the fire. She pretends at Mugglehood. All her friends were killed in the war. They fought against the coming of the Great Lord. She believes she would be executed were she found out. I find it hard to believe a schoolgirl even came to the attention of the Great Lord.
7. "There's someone you'll want to see," Luna said.
This was slightly more concrete than most of Luna's messages; against her will, Hermione felt a faint tickle of curiosity. "Who's that? Another messenger?"
Luna shook her head; she didn't look directly at Hermione, but in the newsstand window, Hermione could see a reflected smile. "Remus Lupin's in Tartrosgate."
Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out the name. Remus Lupin! Alive! Then her brain absorbed the rest of the message, and her heart plunged - in Tartrosgate? Oh, but it was better than him being dead. Wasn't it? Her mind whirling, she whispered, "How did you hear?"
"Can't say. Firenze is with him."
8. “Pity you haven’t learned one of the basic rules of your new existence: do not count on me to do what you think will be right, or fair. Your eyes fly open at the feel of my free hand softly pressing against your throat. Maybe you have learned more than I realised. You try to buck against my hand, reaching for one last orgasm before I fully cut off your air supply. It appears you would almost welcome death.
Sorry to disappoint you; I’m enjoying your training too much to let you go just yet. Your eyes fly open as I take your bound body, my hand at your throat eases a little, allowing just enough air to survive.
I’m sorry, pet. Death is not an option for you at this time. It would be rude of me to destroy a gift so graciously given to me by My Lord.
9. “I apologize, Lord Snape,” Madame Lareine’s voice told him, muffled by the door. “Our house will be closing in ten minutes.”
And that brought reality crashing back down on him. It had been so easy to forget, frighteningly easy to fall into the illusion of significance. But with that simple statement, he was reminded that he was in a brothel and having paid sex at the Dark Lord’s insistence. Closing his eyes, he sat up and swung his feet from the bed, resting his elbows on his knees to bury his face in his hands. A touch on his scalp brought his attention back to the other occupant of the room, slender fingers combing gently through his hair.
10. The leather of his glove was warm and impersonal as he tickled the base of her throat. “I was going to follow you home yesterday and make you show me that spirit.” Suddenly his fingers wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze. “But I didn’t get that chance. So I will do it now.”
Air was becoming as foreign to her lungs as water; Hermione made whistling, gasping sounds as his hands flexed more tightly around her windpipe. She pulled hard away from him but his other hand had a steel grip. Panic rose in her, making thought and fight difficult.
“Lucius, must you continue to manhandle the servants? It’s getting harder and harder to find good help these days.” The voice of her saviour echoed in the large office and suddenly air was rushing into her lungs.