Sleeping With the Enemy, Part Eight:Sorrow Alternate Scene: "Don't Kill the Messenger"
The beginning of the scene is the same, but the ending is different. It's still R-rated, so don't worry. ~*~
he pushed him into the center of the room, where he stood, just barely, trembling from head to toe and feeling naked under their piercing gazes. There was silence, which only increased his fear. Then somebody laughed. //Laughter shouldn't sound like that.// Neville thought numbly. Someone stepped forward and removed the hood. Through the flickering candlelight Neville could see that it was a Slytherin named Evan. A hushed whisper flitted through the huddled group, and Neville suddenly knew that Evan had done something unusual by revealing himself. Evan turned to the group. He was a well built 7th year, muscular and stocky. He radiated calm, and barely contained *power*. He spoke to his group, the group he had founded, and the people he had all initiated. Personally.
"Tonight," he said softly, "if you want to participate, you must remove your hood. We will not hide our identities from this one." A few cloaked heads shook their heads disbelievingly. Evan's face hardened. "Then go, there is nothing here for you tonight." A large portion of the group broke away and left the room. To those that remained, Evan regarded closely. He nodded briskly. "Outside." he commanded. "You'll have your fun later." The few retreated, and Evan turned to Neville. He walked towards him, his power now tangibly radiating from him. Neville gasped and backed away. A small smile flickered across Evan's face. From underneath his black robes a length of silken rope appeared. He stretched it between his two hands, fingers entwining as he approached the terrified Gryffindor. Neville's eyes flicked back and forth, calculating. This was his last chance. He lunged to the left... directly into Evan's solid bulk. Strong hands grasped his arms as he tried to get *away*, but too late, he was caught, the door was magically locked anyway, and Evan forced the 16-year-old to look at him. Wide, frightened sea-green eyes looked up into his amber flecked ones. Time stood still, each heartbeat fulfilling an eternity. Abruptly, the Slytherin curved down and kissed Neville harshly, his teeth nipping savagely at the tender flesh, violating and probing, and heat and fear exploded inside Neville, fusing to the point where he wanted to die. Caught in Evan's iron grip, his first kiss would forever lie with Evan, a twisted perversion of what a first kiss should be.
"Sweet..." the Slytherin whispered, "I knew you would be. My little Neville, do you know how long I have waited for this night? To have you?" Sure fingers pinched his cheeks. "So innocent, and so alone. No one will miss you, will they love? No one will notice you're not there." His hands smoothly unhooked Neville's robes, and the frightened boy tried to twist out of his grasp. Evan held him easily, though. "Don't make this difficult, love," he warned.
"Let me go!" Neville shouted defiantly, surprising himself. Evan slammed him up against the wall. Neville cried out in pain and fear.
"Shhh." he said dangerously "Now don't upset me." Neville sniffled. He
practically tore off Neville's robe and laid it on the floor. He inspected
his prisoner carefully, then from a pocket a knife appeared. Neville froze,
his gaze focused on the blade that was coming nearer and nearer to his skin.
Evan smiled ferally and slit Neville's white t-shirt down the middle. He
shivered as he felt the blade press against his belly. Evan threw the ruined
shirt aside and stepped in very close. He kissed Neville again, while taking
his hands and tying them tightly together with the bit of rope, then placed
Neville's bound wrists around his own neck. Swinging him around, he laid them
both down on Neville's discarded robes. He shut his eyes tightly, waiting for
the inevitable harsh touch... but nothing came. Nothing. //He's playing with
me,// Neville thought, //I won't open my eyes, it's a game,// He felt hot
breath on his neck, and he swallowed reflexively, then gasped as a warm
tongue swept across his pulsepoint and followed up his throat to deposit a
gentle, close-mouthed kiss on his lips. It was the gentleness of the kiss
that made Neville's eyes blink cautiously open.
Amber eyes were watching him intently. "You're a different sort of
Gryffindor, Neville, did you know that? The Weasley girl and Finnigan, they
both screamed and begged. And some would call that bravery. Yet you, who is
never considered brave, accept your fate quietly. You remind me of me before-
when I was younger." Evan stroked his hair thoughtfully, and while Neville
was still very frightened, somehow he wasn't *quite* as scared as before.
"'Tis a pity, really," he said regretfully.
"What is?" Neville whispered.
"I wasn't lying, you know," he leaned in close, "I really do like you.
But you're my messenger, you see. Your friend Potter is next, and that bugger
Malfoy. I have no personal interest other than symbolism, of course, but some
in my group who carry grudges. And so, I'm sending you back as an example of
sorts." There was silence while Neville took this in.
"You're right," he said suddenly. "No one will notice I'm gone. You
picked a bad messenger."
Evan laughed delightedly. "Maybe you are right," he admitted, "but
regardless, it must look realistic. I'm actually... sorry." Evan paused.
"It's odd, I don't want to fuck you, I'd rather make love to you." he said,
mostly to himself. Neville shivered as Evan's fingers traced light patterns
on his bare stomach.
"I'll tell you what, Neville-love. You listen carefully, I'm saving you a
lot of pain, but you have to do what I ask," he warned. "Neville, I'm going
to fuck you, I have to, I *want* to-" he pressed his body onto Neville's from
his position on top of the prone teen, who gasped "-but if you cooperate,
I'll be gentle, I'll be ever-so-nice, love."
The Gryffindor was having hard time comprehending the situation. Evan
liked him, wanted him? Didn't want to hurt him, that was obvious. It wasn't
as if the others cared about him anyway. But this strong, earnest Slytherin
did, and-- Neville knew his logic was flawed because he was about to lose his
virginity one way or another, and the one way would be to stay loyal to his
friends and bear the violation, and the other way was to give in to this
scarily pleasant seduction and forget about the people who didn't give a damn
about him-- a fierce heat surged through him, so that when Evan said,
"I'll make it good, love, *so* good..." the answer burned from his lips,
"Yes."
~*~
Explanation? Well, I like Evan, the sonofabitch that he is. And I liked the dynamic between him and Neville. And this dialogue and scene was in my head, so I wrote it down. I was also sick, that may have something to do with it. I wrote this for me, so if it sucks, I'm sorry. Yeah.
