“Harry,” the voice murmured near his ear. “I want you to listen and watch.”
He felt his lips tremble, he could feel the pulse of his rapid heartbeats all the way in his throat. For the first time in his life, he could say for certain he had never truly known fear as he does now.
It was sickening.
Vile.
Harry watched on with wide eyes. Is this what hell is? This possibly could not be the realm of the living. Several of the screams mixed in a cacophonous noise, each grating against each other rubbing his nerves raw.
Their pleadings died out before they could even utter the next word as screams and sobbing took its place. He bit his lips, nose twitching against the onslaught of putrid iron. If he took a breath, he would surely vomit.
He didn’t even know where to focus, it was too much to take in. He didn’t want to look, to see this dreadful scene, it was revolting. It was terrifying.
Then a god awful scream tore from one of the servants, who twitched and writhed and to Harry’s absolute horror- as a large chunk of their skin was flayed off. His breathing came out in rapid gasps now and he shook his head.
“N-no, no, no, no.”
Harry’s hands rose up to his head and he didn’t know if he should close his ears or his eyes. It was too horrible, inhumane. Before he could do either, a hand gripped his chin, bringing him closer to the man- no, beast besides him.
He dug his toes into the floor of the raised platform where he sat kneeling, seeking to pull away from the unforgiving hand. “Plea-” Harry started, cheeks squished against his molars from the painful grip of that unrelenting hand.
“No,” came the response, absolute and final. “You will see what happens to those that dare to covet what is mine. They should not have the gall to let their thoughts stray without willing to pay the price with their insignificant lives.”
Harry tried leaning away from the hold, eyes brimming with tears that were close to shedding. He could not fathom how anyone could be fine with this, he could not stomach it. “Please,” he sobbed out, “I'll listen, I promise. I’ll do as you say, st-”
He let out a painful wheeze, his lungs burned, “stop this. I beg!”
The beast.
The man.
Tom Riddle.
His husband.
Harry pleaded with the man with his eyes, hoping he would see reason, that this was madness. Riddle’s face was full of glee as he was surrounded by the sound of screams and the suffocating scent of blood.
This was his domain, Harry thought. That this, this torture taking place in front of him was nothing to the man. The man who is always surrounded by the screams of agony, among the gutted mangled bodies, amongst the sea of blood that paints the land red for centuries to come.
This was nothing.
But Harry, he could not stomach such atrocities. This was far too inhumane. He watched on helplessly as Riddle’s inner circle cut into the flesh of the victims, as if the act was something mundane and how they themselves relished in it.
And then he watched with sinking dread as another file of servants walked in- no, they crawled in, each stumbling against one another due to the short chain connected to each of their necks. What had they done to deserve this, what sins could result in punishment as dire as this.
It was then Harry turned his pleading eyes to the man next to him, looking into eyes that were the same shade as the pools of blood below him. Riddle leaned in with an expression full of dark promises.
“This, this is only the beginning, dear. They will suffer for their crimes, for what they dared to do.” His voice merely a hiss at the end, anger contorting the lines of his face before he blinked as if coming back to himself and looked at Harry with such adoration.
It was devastating.
It was a look full of love, Tom’s love for him.
And it was damning.
Because Tom’s love hurts him in ways he never thought possible and he wondered then if he himself was a detestable monster. For what could love a horrid beast but another beast.
And Harry was damned for loving Tom back.
“Tom,” it left his lips like a prayer, asking and begging for mercy that would never come. Tears slowly trailed down his cheeks, leaving a trail of coldness against the burning heat of summer.
Something akin to pity entered those carmine eyes and Harry hope flickered to life, it was a small and vulnerable little thing but he hoped.
Chilling lips pressed a tender kiss to his temple, as war roughed fingers softly wiped away his tears. It was so gentle yet it scalded him all the same, to love Tom was to love pain.
“Watch,” and just like that the light flickered out, hope gone with those words. Tom gave him a look.
A warning.
A promise that there will be worse to come for those servants if Harry didn’t obey. Worse than anything his nightmares could come up with.
So Harry sat in resignation, quieter than the languid wind as his soul wailed in anguish, the seams of his heart ripping, flesh torn open and bleeding. Visceral like the sight before him.
It was damnation.