OS TOMARRY/HARRYMORT

POV Harry Potter, ENGLISH VERSION

When I turned 12, he stole me. Me, and my youth, forever, not letting me any of a child's joys.

When I turned 13, he stole my innocence and learned me the essence of darkness. I began to handle black magic, I had no other choice than to obey so I could have a bit of freedom, I began to get used to his domination. My powers were nothing compared to his, I was forced to obey his orders.

When I turned 14, I began to notice his gaze, scanning my body, and his eyes, piercing through me as if he knew about any of my secrets and each of my thoughts. All of this belonged to him of course. I belonged to him, my body belonged to him, my thoughts belonged to him.
I began to look at him, too, but I had to be more discreet than him, I couldn't allow myself to look at my master with my filthy and unworthy gaze, his body was of such intense beauty that my eyes didn't have the right to stand up to it.

When I turned 15, I noticed that his gaze changed whenever it landed on me. I now had the right to look at him, even in his eyes. I enjoyed each second that was allowing me to observe his body and his gestures, delicate and precise but powerful. His eyes were shining with a ruby brilliance, perfect opposite to the emerald shining in mine. I saw him biting his lip when I did some gestures, this divine sight was pleasing me so much that I sometimes had fun to do these gestures, hoping to see his expression changing into something dark, mysterious but of which I couldn't guess the nature.
I sometimes happened to escape from my bedroom at night, hearing noises coming from him. I didn't know what he was doing but he was out of breath and calling for me. I always hesitated to enter, but never did, fearing that it might stop his action, which would also stop the incredible impressiveness that he emitted from him. His soaked hair were glued to his forehead, the ruby brilliance in his eyes shone bright in the twilight, his muscles contracted and quivered, his mouth opened partially... It would be a lie to say that the noises he made weren't doing anything to me, a strange sensation arose in my stomach.
I didn't know, then, but I wanted him.

When I turned 16, I tried to provoke some moments in which he wouldn't have any other choice than to brush my skin. I was playing dangerously but I wasn't doing it in an obvious manner, I stayed conscious of my position compared to his, I shouldn't cross the line. The nights were quieter on his side, the spectacle became a bit rarer, but it still happened. The rarity of it had a direct effect on me, I was craving for these nights, craving for his beauty, I always wanted more but was always receiving less. I thought I was becoming mad, but, although my thoughts became impure, I didn't let any of it show on my face or elsewhere.
I had learned a lot from my master.

When I turned 17, he offered me one of the best gifts in the world. I, who had never known how to deal with what was happening in the sensible area of my body, he decided to help me.
One night, as I was observing him, a gasp escaped from my lips and I felt a huge pleasure falling over me. Before I could react, he was right in front of me, and I was observing his body more closely under the dimmed light of the hallway.
This sight was breathtaking. I lowered my gaze, waiting for a punishment, but instead of it, he took my hand and put it on his torso, allowing me to touch his quivering muscles and his humid skin. His glaze became scarlet red for a second. Then he brought me to his nest and made me discover sensations that I couldn't even have imagined in my most unreasonable dreams.
I discovered the carnal pleasure.

Violence was equal to greatness, I was often weak at the end of our nights, but I desired him more and more. I wanted his domination, I wanted to obey him, I also wanted him to take care of me. And then, nights changed, softness was now equal to the importance we had to each other's eyes.

When I turned 18, I often shouted that I loved him when pleasure washed like a storm over me. He wasn't doing it, I knew he felt it, but he wasn't saying it. I was happy, I was linking myself to him in a carnal way, that link and these memories, nobody could take them away from me,
They were marked inside of me, as delicious scars forged by passion and love.

When I turned 20, he finally said the words, filling me with joy, and with many others things too.
I never felt as good as when I'm with him.
When he told me he had to go, my beatitude became rage.
But he made me forget everything by transmitting me all his love physically, I could feel all of his emotions underneath his skin.
Love was surrounding us, I felt a pleasure so intense that I wouldn't have believed in its existence a few years ago,

The following day, sheets were empty and cold without the warmth of his body. He was gone.
I knew he had to do it, for our good, but the despair that I felt now made me question my existence. He had filled me up so much yesterday, by so much emotions, that the void which took his place today was unbearable.
I was awaiting, in a faint hope, his return. Holding onto this thought to lead a semblance of life.
I didn't have the heart to do anything, he took everything from me when he left. He possessed all of me and have never gave anything back to me.
I had become a corpse without a soul nor a feeling.

Today, he's dead. He never came back. His plans succeeded and I now have the entire world at my feet.
I became the incarnation of darkness, I became worst than him. I'm following him in his wills and I apply them one by one, because I loved him, because I love and because I'll always love him.
I'm only surviving thanks to our souvenirs, thanks to this feeling of love that both kills and revives me. I love him.
But rage creates power, pain destroys innocence and love leads to indecency.
I had nothing left to lose, that's why I won everything.

We used darkness to feed light. We forced respect and admiration upon us, creating the indestructible.
I am destroyed and tortured, but I know that soon I'll join him and we'll reign upon a new kingdom.

It was our advantage. Because, according to Dumbledore, only love can win. He didn't foresee that an evil love could exist.
Even dead, I know that my power and Harry's will reign until the end of time.
Because our unpredictable love, born into Hell's flames is simply invincible. Our Love, that is worthy of that capital, is mad, vicious, cunning, ambitious, miserly. It's simply the Devil's Love, but it stays a beautiful one. And that's what makes its power.

(THANKS EVERYONE FOR YOUR VOTES, LOVE AND SUPPORT, IT MEANS A LOT. ❤️)
PS: I translated it during Christmas's eve dinner so please excuse any mistakes I'm very tired and I wasn't really concentrated on it 😂👌🏻