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The chains were heavy, dragging arms down towards the floor. Tight around the wrist, hands going numb. No magic was used, the items all Muggle. It was a further slap in the face; being bound by Muggle items was far more humiliating than simply being bound in the first place.

“I knew the chains would bother you.” The voice was smug, knowing, proud. “Do you know, I stood in the filthy Muggle store watching them, choosing the chains they touched the most because, really, you had to have the best. All their disgusting hands moving over the metal that is now trapping you. I thought it rather poetic, in a way. And you accused me of not having a soul, of not appreciating the irony in the world around me.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“Brave words but rather foolish. You see, I have the power. You’re on your knees before me, and I see you looking at the knife. You’re trembling, my dear, but is it fear or anticipation?”

“You’re going to regret this. When I’m free, I’m going to make you sorry you ever met me.”

“You silly fool. Do you think I’m going to let you go free?” There was a wild laugh, a hint of insanity lurking around the edges, amusement in every word. “You won’t be leaving this room alive.”

“Really?” The word was drawled, refusing to show any hint of fear or concern, the mind calculating the possibility of seriousness in the claim and trying to think of a way out.

“You were my prize. Potter and the others, they were willing to give me anything for the information I told them. I expect they were happy to hand you over to me in exchange for our Dark Lord’s location.”

“Stop playing these childish games and release me.” The words were a demand, barked out in the harsh tone that instantly meant obey. There was no reason to believe the lies spilling from thin lips. Heard them all before, in training and initiation.


Pansy’s eyes hardened as she looked at the man who had ruined her. So proud and smug, smirking as if he owned the world. Well, no more. It was her world now and she didn’t want him in it! No more reminders of her twelfth birthday, being handed to him by her own father, his hands roughly bruising her skin as he made her scream over and over.

Now, though, she had the power. He thought she was lying, not believing she’d turn over their Dark Lord to Potter, but she had eagerly. Permission from Dumbledore himself had been given for her to ‘finish her business with Macnair’. It was amusing that they were so desperate to end their silly little War that they’d condoned torture and murder. Running her tongue along the knife in her hand, she moved closer.

“You don’t have the nerve, little girl,” Walden sneered, his wrists moving against the chains trying to gain freedom.

“I’m not a little girl,” she growled before slicing the knife down his chest. “I haven’t been since I was twelve. You remember, don’t you, Macnair? I was tiny for my age, and you were so big. I hurt for days, still hurt inside. Father thought it was so amusing, having you take me and train me. He wasn’t laughing when I killed him, though. No, he was the one screaming for help then, begging me for his life. I took it with a smile on my face, you know? You made me like this, turned me into this monster, and today I’m going to let you enjoy what I’ve become.”

Ignoring his words, Pansy pushed him back against the cold stone floor with her foot, smiling with pleasure when she heard his head hit hard. Removing her robes, she neatly folded them before putting them on the table she had set up. Putting the large knife down she’d been using to toy with him, she chose a small but sharp blade. She’d learned that the small cuts hurt far worse the big ones, took longer to bleed, each new cut causing a new twinge of pain.

Straddling him, she set to work. “You’re being tortured by a nineteen year-old girl, Macnair, and you’re still hard. I can feel your cock against my arse, leaking pre-come, and you’re trembling beneath me.”

Leaning over, she licked the Dark Mark on his arm, moving the tip of the knife against it and pushing down until blood flowed over the mark. Her finger lightly touched the mark on her own arm, still there despite Voldemort’s death the previous day. It would be there forever, a reminder of her past, but it no longer held power over her. No one held power of her.

“Stop this,” he hissed, biting his lip to keep from groaning as he cut him again. “When I’m free, I’m going to fuck you so hard your bleeding, Pansy dear. I’m going to make you scream so loud you wake dear old daddy in his grave.”

Licking the cut on his collarbone, she straightened, blood on her lips, and she started to laugh. “When will you see, Macnair? You’re not getting free.”

She moved down to impale herself on his hard cock, riding him, pushing down with force and grinding against him. Bloody hands moved over her stomach and breasts, squeezing and caressing.

“I’m going to kill you when you come,” she said matter-of-factly, her eyes meeting his. “It’s appropriate, after all, that I should kill you at the same time I died seven years ago. When you come, sticky and hot inside me, I’m going to take your life and then we’ll be even.”

“You loved it, you little whore,” he snarled as he tried to buck his hips up to drive further into her warm cunt. “Such a slut even then. Begging me for it, wanting me to break you, so eager for attention that you dutifully sucked my cock until I came all over your pretty little face. Then you fell back and spread your legs, wanting me to make you feel special.”

“I was tied up,” she remembered as tears slid down her pale cheeks. “Struggling so hard to get free. Daddy laughed…they all laughed. Watching and touching themselves, telling me to learn my place, that I’d only ever be good for one thing. That was when I knew, that very moment. He wouldn’t win. You wouldn’t win. I was a good girl, though, wasn’t I? I learned everything, studying and perfecting my technique. I’ve killed them all, you know? Listened to them begging and screaming, watching them struggle to get free. You’re the last. After you, it’s over.”

“You’re crazy if you think they’ll let you torture and kill me and just walk away. Let me go and we can get out of here then I’ll punish you for being a stupid little bitch.”

Pansy smiled, a laugh escaping her lips as she moved the blade along his ribs. “There is no escape, Walden. You lost your chance seven years ago. You taught me well. The cuts are bleeding slowly, perfect torment for my victim. Sex heightens the pleasure, the thrill of the kill, gives you power over them. Even now, you’re arching into me, wanting to come, oblivious to the pain the blade has caused because you’re aroused.”

“You’re not going to do this,” he growled, hearing his own words repeated back perfectly. She always had been the most eager student.

“You no longer tell me what to do,” she sneered, tightening around him, laughing as his body writhed beneath hers, the first splatter of his seed spilling into her. “Good-bye, Walden,” she whispered before smoothly slicing open his throat.

She watched him die, watched him with keen eyes as he took his last gasping breath, his body relaxing beneath hers as his life left him. Standing up, she dropped the knife on the ground, shaking as she stepped away from his body. Warmth was wrapped around her suddenly, thin but strong arms pulling her against a scrawny chest that had become her comfort over the recent months.

“Are you okay, love?”

Looking up at the man she loved, she expected to see disgust and hate in his eyes after he watched her. Instead, she saw understanding and love. Nodding once, she leaned her head against his chest. “Yes, Harry, I’m okay.” Looking at the man on the floor, she felt the chains that had been around her soul for years fall away, freeing her. Her lips curled into a small smile as Harry kissed her neck, holding her in his safe embrace. She was finally alive again.

The End