starduchess (starduchess) wrote in do_me_veela, @ 2013-01-11 12:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, pairing: harry/severus, rated:r |
Poetry: Trapped in Blackened Ways - Severus/Harry - R
Repost from last year's fest on LJ.
Title: Trapped in Blackened Ways
Author: starduchess
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Prompt #: 81 by me
Rating: R
Word Count: ~1110
Summary: Severus hides his dark Veela nature, for he does not wish to subject his painful reality on the golden innocence of his mate, Harry.
Warnings: (mini) epic-poetry style, violence, pain as pleasure
Betas: sighing_selkie and miss_e , thank you, ladies!
A/N: originally written for do_me_veela 2012 Valentine's Day Fest.
This feeling, ever present, waxes and wanes
like the lunar cycles that pull the tides
and turn the wolves; sometimes strong,
sometimes weak, like hunger in a severely
starving man; an ache in my skeleton
not remedied by tisane nor tincture,
not alleviated by enchantment nor artifact,
for the very fiber of my being is cause indeed.
The nature of my affliction resides in my heritage
and nothing can change that. I have tried
cursing the skies for my father’s allure,
which captured the beauty of the blackest
of princesses and tainted the royalty
forevermore. The lust in my soul for light
extends outward; trembles, as it will,
within my palm to catch the fleeting bird
made of fire and spirit, bravery in leaping
bounds, emerald gems, and sacrificial love.
But I cannot -- cannot -- touch and grab and
hold and cling and claim, for to do so would
taint again, ensnare another in my dark tomb.
The walls, I feel, crawl all around me; vellum
whispers of tantalising sins that should never be;
doxy eyes leer from nearby shelves like visions
from my nightmares; the musty dank of the dungeons
acts like acid inside my head, no longer sheltering,
no longer a comfort in its hideaway location.
All suffocates this passion, this urge to break free
and grab hold of what’s mine and rip and tear
and claw, and for him to do likewise back to me;
but I dare not give in, so my world blocks any joy,
a penance for the inner darkness not yet made
fully manifest and, Merlin willing, never will.
Intellectual stimulation no longer eases the aches
away, as fight I must at each dark turning
of the day.
“Severus, you are a valuable servant
to me,” hisses the Dark Lord at each
new gathering of his inner knights.
The faces around me are anticipatory,
waiting and watching with dark intent
for the display of pain and mutilation
that takes place within these halls.
He never disappoints in these matters.
“Crucio!” I fall to the floor writhing,
screaming out loud for their ears to see,
but inwardly my blood, it sings. It greets
the activation of my nerves with open
arms. The muscles contract in spasms
of ecstasy only marred by the knowledge
that he is not the one who has the right
to me. The others think I hate this
as they all do, but that is not the case.
I yearn for the strongest curse to run
along my spine, teasing my being with
the release of endorphins, satisfying
the itch which lies beneath my skin. But
it is not complete; my soul-call goes
unanswered, and I, alone.
Screams echo and I know they come
from me. Agony flows through my being
as my body changes, morphs into a
beast, dark and eternal. I wish to die,
to end this suffering; yet I feel it is right,
if only a special one was here to balance
the dark with light, to share the pleasure
and the pain, to make it all glorious sin,
who would not detest, one who would not
despise nor loathe the darkness within.
The medi-witch asks the headmaster
what she should do; no answer need be
given; none can help until I find the one,
yet his smile gambles another solution,
a risk to take which might ease my life
in the meanwhile, a venture that leaves
me empty, burning with shame as I open
myself to him who but provides -- albeit
he does not know it -- relief for my own
pain-filled desires. Whips and crucios
work in conjunction to lessen the itch,
but devoid of devotion, they leave me
hollow inside, ever waiting in loneliness.