even though i don’t know myself perfectly, i do know more and more every day and that’s important and very liberating
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“…The Dark Lord’s magic was a suffocating mass of anger, pressing down on him like a blanket of blackness. He leaned in so that he was speaking in Harry’s ear, his voice quiet but deadly.
“Insult me one more time,” he whispered, “and I shall tear your insolent tongue right out of your mouth.”
Harry wasn’t sure what came over him. Rather than find that terrifying, like he knew he should have, he smirked. He leaned in so that he, too, could whisper in Voldemort’s ear, and with the exact same inflection that the Dark Lord had just used to threaten him, said:
“Fuck. You.”
The reaction was instantaneous.
The first thing Harry registered was the taste of blood.
A sharp, stinging pain exploded in his mouth, and it took him a second to comprehend what was happening. Voldemort had wrapped his fingers around Harry’s throat, viciously tight, and in the same moment had—had crashed his lips over Harry’s, wrenching open his mouth and had ensnared his tongue with his teeth—
He is literally going to bite my tongue off, Harry thought with a blank horror as the pain increased exponentially. Blood, hot and metallic, filled his mouth.
And just when he thought that it was actually going to happen—that Voldemort was going to tear away and take Harry’s tongue with him—everything changed.
Harry wasn’t sure how or why it happened, but it was such a rapid switch that he could hardly understand it. Voldemort had released his painful hold on Harry’s tongue, and, with blood still pouring in his mouth, had begun to feel it with his own. The grip on his throat slackened slightly, and somewhere in the midst of all of this shock Harry realized that he was experiencing the most violent kiss of his life.
From Voldemort.
The pain in his scar vanished. The Dark Lord reached with his other hand, intertwining his fingers into Harry’s mess of hair and forcing his head back against the wall, demanding more access. Harry was too stunned to do anything about it. Voldemort ravaged his mouth, claiming every crevice with his teeth and tongue, completely unbothered by the fact that there was blood everywhere.
Perhaps the most horrifying part of all was that Harry, in the messy whirlwind of it all, found himself almost instinctually reciprocating.
The second he realized just what the hell was happening, Harry reached with both his hands, hoping to push Voldemort away. He never got the chance. At that moment, Voldemort abruptly ended the violence of their kiss, his hands still on Harry’s throat and clawing at his hair. Harry gasped for breath, having not realized just how starved for oxygen he had become.
Voldemort’s lips and chin were covered in blood. Harry was sure that he must look much worse, considering that it was his tongue which was currently pooling blood into his mouth, even still.
Voldemort smirked, and it was possibly the most horrifying sight that Harry had ever seen, to witness someone who looked like Tom Riddle give such a charming and crimson-stained smile. “I’ve changed my mind,” he murmured, releasing his hold on Harry’s throat and reaching into the pocket of his robe. “I like your insolent tongue just where it is."
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