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Astoundingly Ordinary by Rumpelstiltskin
Chapter 1 : Free
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 14

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The night fell, a perfect shroud of camouflage to conceal sin, clouded fiercely and allowing no light to seep out into the small village. Hot, smooth flesh brushed beneath his fingertips and he reveled in the feeling of raising flesh as goosebumps appeared commanded by his touch. Kisses lingered with the sweet scent of alcohol, slightly abused and leaving its consumers flushed, needy, dizzy, and excited. Every tantalizing touch sent sparks of electricity through his entire body. Short, erratic breathing left the window stained with fog.


The soft, breathy, desperate voice drove him mad.

A crackle came from the burning wood in the fire, its dim light painting the room orange. Igor could feel the warm licks of the flame dancing across his back.

He shivered.

The eyes that stared up at him, as dark as death itself, he got himself trapped in, lost in the infinite ebony pools. It was the long silky hair that was twined around his fingers that made him giddy. The luscious plump lips that grazed his neck caused the feral noise to escape his throat. Her gentle curves were the motivator of his lust-driven excursion.

He felt alive.

For the first time he could feel his heart beat. He had been left so cold, so daunt, so humiliated after being released from Azkaban. A broken stranger, mysterious, dangerous, and dark, found his way into a muggle bar, enticed by the gentle scent of the woman's perfume. He needed to feel so badly. He needed to be touched. He needed to be held. He needed to be loved. He needed an escape from the pain that had tormented him for such a long time.

So there he was, seduced by her charm, intoxicated from the gentle purposeful hands that touched his face.

It was all too much.






Igor pulled the blankets tighter around them, capturing her lips in a greedy kiss. His war was over, and he could once again breath, a great weight being lifted from his shoulders. He felt aeronautical, drifting through the air, free from fear.

She had her own reasons for the need, he was sure. The need to feel anything at all could drive any sane person into the rash, blinding befuddlement that was love.

Raw love.

His distraction would only be temporary, he knew. By the time morning came she would be long gone. She would leave only a bittersweet memory that would stay with Igor for the rest of his life. Her presence with him tonight would act as a symbol of his new life. He would create a life without regret. He would create a life that he could have possibly shared with the woman had he not been the man he was.

But he could not get caught up in the technicalities. He would relish the night if it would be their last spent together. He would hold her tightly until the sun's autocratic rays would tear her from his arms. The sun could have her tomorrow, he decided, for she was his tonight.

He would forget the excruciating pain of the cruciatus curse. He would forget the dampening fear of the Dark Lord's gaze. He would forget the thrill of killing. He would forget the lonely, damp, dark days in Azkaban that would forever mar his soul. He would forget the shame of naming his fellow Death Eaters to save himself from his own cowardice. He would forget everything. Tonight he had room for only one thing in his mind: the woman beneath him quivering in ecstasy.

His eager lips found her collar bone, leaving wet kisses in gratitude.

The day had begun bleakly. He had been released from his imprisonment only to find himself utterly alone. He traveled from bar to bar, seeking to numb the pain. None of the alcohol could bring an end to his suffering. He fled deeper into the unknown, idly moving from town to town seeking redemption in his own way.

But this woman found him. Allowing him her tender caress and resounding laugh. She would forever be his savior.

He felt foolish. He did not know her name. He never asked.

It did not make a difference.

In reality, lost somewhere far beyond their drunken stupor, such a beautiful woman would not have a man like Igor. He would never see her again, after tonight. He had to get his fill of her in the few hours remaining. Never in his life had he experienced love quite like this. Then again, it was never love he felt.

It was always sex. Just sex. It was something necessary for him to live his miserable life each day. It was something that he needed to bring himself to get out of bed in the morning. It was something that he had misused, something he corrupted.

This was something different.

He needed to make her feel pleasure, never mind his own. He wanted to make her scream, to beg for him. He sought to still her pain.

Igor Karkaroff had been called many things. He was ruthless, a Death Eater, evil, mysterious, dark, tormented, and even deemed a coward upon abandoning his loyalty to the Dark Lord. But tonight he was just hers.

He pulled her body closer to his.

Never in his life had he felt so astoundingly ordinary, and finally, for what felt like the first time in his life, he felt as though he'd be able to stand on his the morning, at any rate.

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