We Can't Wake Up

Marcus was deep into the trees when Anne caught him up.

“Where are you going?” she asked nervously.

Marcus gestured around him. They were in the middle of a clearing. The light shone through the leaves weakly, leaving only the clearing well illuminated. Everything around it was dark and shadowy.

Anne looked around and stepped closer to Marcus nervously. Her mouth was parted, as if she wanted to say something. But it appeared she could not find the words.

Marcus turned to look at her. She did not look at him. Marcus stared intently at her beautiful skin, her dark eyes and her perfect lips. Slowly, carefully, Marcus entwined his fingers into hers. Anne jolted as if she had been given an electric shock. Quickly she turned to look at his face. They stared at each other silently, before Marcus leant and pressed his lips to hers for the second time.

He could feel Anne kissing him and he wanted more. His right hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and his left moved to her waist and held her closely. Anne’s arms went up around his neck. Marcus ran his tongue along her full bottom lip and Anne opened her mouth eagerly. Excruciatingly slow, Marcus slid his tongue against hers. Anne shuddered in delight as Marcus deepened the kiss and tightened his hold in her hair.

Marcus opened his eyes and watched Anne carefully as they kissed. Her eyes remained closed, but he could see them moving, darting from side to side as if she could sense something that he hadn’t.

He pulled away and glanced around the clearing. There was no-one to be seen. He grabbed his wand from his pocket and carelessly flicked it around. There was definitely no-one watching them.

Anne looked at him curiously. “What was that?” she whispered.

“I thought someone was watching,” Marcus replied quietly.

“I don’t care if someone was watching,” Anne replied, looking Marcus straight in the face.

“I do,” He said, his voice suddenly harsh and menacing.

“Why?” Anne demanded. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Marcus stared at her with dangerous, blank eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Anne yelled. “You stupid, selfish, piece of -”

Anne was cut off when suddenly she was whipped into the air. Marcus pointed his wand at her face. She was hanging upside down, her face at eye level for Marcus.

“Don’t you dare yell at me,” he whispered, his eyes and face devoid of any emotion. “You have no idea what I can, and will, do to you if you insult me,”

Anne glared at him, “Why should I be afraid of you? Go on, do you’re worst.”

Marcus whipped his wand away and Anne crashed to the ground. Before she had time to do anything Marcus flicked his wand again around the clearing muttering “Muffliato,”

Anne’s hand moved to her pocket.

Expelliarmus! Marcus thought viscously. Anne’s wand shot out of her hand and ten feet away. Crucio!

Anne screamed with agony and her body twisted awkwardly in a desperate attempt to get away from the pain. The image filled Marcus with pleasure and horror at the same time.

But he could not stop; the pleasure of torturing a person overrode the horror of torturing Anne. He body flung itself over so that she was lying on her back. Her eyes locked with his as she screamed. The fear radiated out from her.

Marcus lowered his wand and Anne curled up into a little ball, as if that would protect her. He crouched down beside her and whispered “Enough?” Anne did not reply. “Have you learnt your lesson? Have you learnt your place?”

Anne turned so that she could look at him. “No, I don’t see that that proved anything.” She sneered at him.

“Well then,” Marcus replied and lifted his wand again. Crucio!