40Midnights in Hell
By phoenixgod2000
Authors notes: My feeble attempt at Sin City style noir. I'm experimenting with a new, sparser writing style. Tell me what you think please. I'm always trying to improve.
This story is unbeta'd. Each chapter is pretty short because I find noir works best in short punchy chapters. Updates will be fairly regular because each chapter is faster to write. The idea for this story came from the pottersplace3 Harry/Luna challenge.
Warning: This story is dark and graphic. Probably the darkest story I will ever write. There will be character deaths.
July 21 1996
The woman was hot as hell. Not the good kind of hot either.
The inside of the London club was a sweltering mixture of alcohol, sweat, and sex that left the young witch wishing she could use a cooling charm on herself, but magic in front of the muggles was a no-no. She was sitting in the back of her club on her day off looking for…something. Something she wasn't finding.
And then he walked in and the good kinda hot got a new definition.
His abs rippled beneath his net shirt and his eyes flashed with a sexy smolder the color of death itself. His dark hair and pale skin made him a gothic god.
Those eyes of his focused on her and she felt the danger in the gaze. The sort of danger that left the woman panting to get into his pants. He walked up to her and held out his hand.
She felt herself rising in her seat and taking his hand in answer to his wordless request. He led her silently onto the dance floor, and the two of them danced together in a slow mating ritual, the people around them giving the pair room to writhe in slow motion. Their eyes never left each other as they took silent measure of the other's body.
After dancing for a dog's age, the gothic god took the witch off the dance floor. He still hadn't spoken a word and neither had she. They didn't speak, and they didn't need to. He knew what she wanted and she knew what he was offering.
The outside air was cool and her skin pimpled with contact. She snuggled into his strong embrace for warmth and he gladly accepted her flesh against his skin.
"I've always had a crush on you."
The first words he spoke shook the girl. Always? But they had never met before tonight, had they? How could he know her? Her training acted up and she moved, pushing him away.
That's when he acted.
The gothic god pushed her into the alley with inhuman strength and pressed the struggling young woman against the wall. His lips met hers and he tasted her.
Cinnamon.
She tasted like cinnamon.
With one hand he held her against the wall, using his greater mass to prevent her escape. The other stroked the soft lines of her face.
She was so beautiful in her fear, he thought. Her eyes glowed with wisdom. They shimmered with perfect understanding. It was no wonder he loved her. He could feel the other in his head, watching. Good. He deserved to suffer. His hot breath caused her to shiver while he whispered.
"You have beautiful eyes."
A moment later Nymphadora Tonks died.
Told you it would be dark.
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