“Voldemort may know of the connection between your minds, Harry.” Dumbledore had warned, but still he took no heed. If He Who Must Not Be Named knew, this was worth it.
Harry lay back in his four poster bed, sweat dripping down his naked, writhing body. His palms gripped the sheets feverishly as the feeling rose again, spread all through his body and intensified at his very core, before erupting out of him and all over his chest and stomach.
Voldemort, hidden away in the Malfoy’s house, shuddered in his chair - a soft smile playing on his wet lips.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment