[x]Rating: R for Violence, Non-Con, Sexual Situations, Character Death
[x]Summary: : It's true, we're all a little insane, but none more so than the Dark Lord Voldemort. Evil is prevailing in the Wizarding world, and in the three years since the Trio's graduation from Hogwarts, things have only gotten worse. Everyday for the past three years, the Death Eaters have kidnapped a young woman for Voldemort to torture and kill before sunrise. Hermione wants the brutality to end... at any costs....
A dark twist on the 1,001 Nights Tale featuring Hr/TR/LV, with hints of Hr/RW. Also featuring Hermione's unknown sister whom I fleshed out for the fic's purpose
(Three years prior to the story taking place ...)
Severus bows his head, a curtain of black hair covering his face as he holds a small vial in his hands. He is uneasy about this experiment, from what I see. His eyes refuse to meet mine, but his disquieted look tells me more than words could. The vial he holds in his hands smells strongly of burning flesh and dried blood; I inhale deeply the odor it gives off. While the odor may make others sick to their stomachs, it brings a smile to my face.
I order Severus to leave, but he hesitates.
"Sir, there may be complications with the potion," he says, bowing his head again. "Something of this nature has never been done before."
"Go," I order again. "If you have made this potion correctly, then there will not be any consequences. However, if you have made this incorrectly, you shall ... face my wrath."
Severus bows even lower, mumbling indignantly that he, indeed, “made it correctly," before placing the potion on a small end table and leaving. As I hear the door close behind him, I slip out of my robe, letting it fall to the floor. The late afternoon sun colors my pale, nude body a deep crimson hue as I grab the vial and take a deep breath. I am not doing this - changing my looks entirely - for simple vanity. I realized that I could inflict more strife upon the population than just merely killing them. As my old adversary would say: "There are worse things than death." Indeed. For some, certain acts are more horrific to suffer from than death itself.
I press the vial to my lips, tasting the acidic potion as it slides down the back of my throat. Immediately, my knees give out, and I am on the floor gasping for breath. After a moment, I feel my skin begin to seethe and swell. My brain swarms as though it has attracted millions of insects to it. I feel the urge to vomit wash over me as the crawling feeling erupts in my throat.
The sound of Severus' voice echoes through the door. I croak out a response as I slowly, unsteadily, begin to stand again. I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the brightness of the late afternoon sun. When I open them a second later, my skin is no longer deathly pale; it's a pale apricot color I remember from so long ago. How strange it is to feel warm blood coursing through my veins again.
Severus knocks on the door, and I bid him to enter.
"You have made the potion well," I say, still feeling over every space of my new body. “You shall not be facing my wrath.”
"Yes, sir," he replies, his eyes fixed the ground. Perhaps seeing a naked man is bothersome to him, but I am not one to be troubled with such trivial things as immodesty.
"There is something I want to try tonight, something to celebrate my new transformation," I say.
"What is it, sir?"
"My brain burns and body aches with the thoughts of the fantasies that can only be satisfied by a young woman. Round up the others and go forth in your search. Use force to bring her in if you must. But remember, she is not to be touched. She is mine."
He silently leaves the room with my direct orders as I slip my robe back on, my thoughts racing.