Contort

DARKNESS was her cloak as she studied the man who roamed the forest floor. His sharp breaths cut through the fogged air, she side-stepped; masking her frame behind a tree. Her cheek lightly grazed the shredded bark as she leaned to get a closer look of her pursuer.

It was all about the chase.

Karas watched the man peer from left to right as he hunched over, hands on his knees. He wiped the perspiration from his brow and continued his futile search.

“Beautiful," was the word that ran through the man’s mind. The question left unanswered was if the thought was created by him or an outsider that contorted his thoughts. He was too far gone to even consider any logical facts.

Karas bit her bottom lip, piercing the skin, and feeling a warm fluid meet her tongue. Blood. She savored the salty liquid. The slits of her green eyes reflected off the moonlight and a grin coiled at the corner of her mouth. He’d found her. But only for a moment, then she’d vanish. Leaving him desperate.

Ronald Weasley awoke in a cold sweat. His body lie partially unwrapped in the quilted blanket that dressed his twin size bed. Ron's right arm hung off the side of the mattress, gifting his fingers with a tingling sensation from irregular blood circulation.
He had the dream again.

Beads of sweat dripped from Ronald's forehead and into his dreary, blue eyes. As perspiration fell from his eyelashes, he squinted which subsided the sting. Ron sat up and ran a hand through his long, red hair. The gray wife beater he was wearing clung to his chest and underarms where he'd been sweating profusely.

One image reeled through the eyes of Ron's mind. An image that had embedded itself in his brain. Taunting him and pulling him. He'd dreamt that same dream every night for a week. Each time he could never reach the mysterious women that lurked in between the cracks of his mind. Obsession had formed a distorted pursuit.

However, Ronald never spoke of his dreams out of fear, fear that someone would become jealous and desire to steal his precious entity from him. She was his. Only his.



WORMTAIL paced upon creaking floorboards, biting his nails. Nervous. Always nervous. Moments before he'd watched his master's pet, Nagini, transform into a woman. Her god-given form. Though, the fact of Voldemort's snake being an Animagus was hidden from many.

"You can only toy with his mind for so long, Nagini." A fist slammed upon the armrest of a tattered, navy blue couch. Dust flecks rose from the fabric and swarmed the air.

"Barty Crouch Junior," the woman breathed, tailing a finger across his shoulder blades as she strode by. She turned, the helm of her short black dress flowed across her knees. "The hypocrite." Her pixie cut brunette hair ruffled between the slits of her fingers.

The gangling figure of Bartemius Crouch II, the crazed Death Eater, watched his master's snake stare back at him. Crouch had never grown accustom to her eyes. The seductive glint that shown past her emerald orbs left him on edge.

"How long do you plan on playing dress up?" Nagini, who was renamed by Voldemort, Karas. The name Karas means to charm. She held in her hand a liquor canister, letting her long nails click against the stainless steel. Polyjuice Potion. Her plump lips twisted into a grin.

Karas looked over at the face of her lover, Voldemort, who sat watching. A look of desire filled amusement broke upon his lips. Distraction. A diversion. That was his plan. Lord Voldemort's plan to return to his full glory. And what a day that will be.