#androlily

Lily had wandered in one stormy night. 

The castle was dreary but a welcome respite against the freezing rain and bone-breaking winds. An old servant named Kreacher, snarling and ill-natured, led her up the stairs and into a cosy room, a fire lit in the grate, dark curtains drawn around the bed.

-♦️-

She never saw her hosts. She took meals in the massive dining hall, roast duck and rare fruits and luscious wines, Kreacher bringing more and more until she was bursting at the seams.

She always ate alone.

-♦️-

She liked to explore the castle during the day. Empty room after empty room, most covered in a fine layer of dust. She wondered about her hosts — to live in such luxury yet refuse to touch it.

The wind rattled against the windows, howling and moaning.

The sound was nearly human.

-♦️-

At night when the castle was nearly unbearable with cold, Lily crawled into bed in her nightgown and wool socks, the torches gleaming on the walls, the shadows lengthening in the corners. The blanket pressed down, a suffocating weight over her tired form. 

She heard whispers in the dark.

“Innocent,” they said.

“Delicious.”

“Human.”

There were hands on her — one, two, three sets, maybe more. On her waist, on her shoulders, in her hair. They slid beneath the covers, beneath her gown, and kneaded soft flesh, caressed her chilled body until she became feverish with heat.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

“Must we?” a voice asked.

“Mustn’t we?” another voice added.

“We must,” yet another voice answered.

A chill went down Lily’s spine, yet her body refused to move. Her eyes refused to open.

There were lips on her — one, two, three sets. On her neck, on her wrists, on her thighs. They parted around muscle and bone, feeling out her heartbeat, searching out her blood.

Moans and whimpers and screams. It could have been her. It could have been a dream.

She arched into phantom hands, phantom lips trailing across her cheek, phantom hips grinding down against hers and pinning her to the bed. Her gasps were loud, ragged in the silence of the room.

She tried to think about James, her long-lost love, but it had never felt like this with James.

There were teeth against her collarbone, gently tracing, slowly tightening.

“Sweet,” said a voice.

Then, there was pain and the feeling of weightlessness. Lily floated through it, pale faces crossing her path, dark hair long and curled, red lips, a sharp flashing smile. The hands on her waist disappeared. The lips on her wrists vanished.

She opened her eyes and bolted upright in bed, her heart beating frantically. She brought a hand to her neck. It was sore but otherwise unblemished.

The room was empty and dark, the torches on the wall extinguished. The door was locked, just like it had been before.

Lily lay back and closed her eyes, but sleep would not come. Not that night. Not for many more.

Also read it on AO3!