Porcelain Doll ((Dakota)) [PG-13]

[Stephen Donahue S7]

Another late night, the fire was barely casting a faint glow in the common room. Most students would just throw another log on the fire, but Stephen Donahue wasn’t most students. There was no part of his personality that held true to other students. At least not quite. There were plenty of students, especially Slytherins, that were cold and angry at the world…but none of them had really been through what he had. Well if they had they certainly didn’t get the crazy hallucinations that seemed to be around him always. When he was in St. Mungos they would come and go, his father’s terrible shouts at him were one an hour, but here at Hogwarts…well things were different. His father seemed to be forever at his side, shouting words that Stephen didn’t always understand, like they were a language he had never heard before. There were very few moments of reprieve from the onslaught and he was very much looking forward to returning to St. Mungos after the school year was over…anything to get away from the sound of his father.

Stephen sat staring into the dying embers, his form lounging in the black leather chair that occupied the common room. It was a familiar place for him especially at this time of night. Sleeping was not something Stephen did often, nor did he like to sleep. It just gave him more time to subconsciously drudge up the images of his father’s death and of what Stephen had now become. There was no innocence left in Stephen, nothing that allowed him to feel compassion or even regret. There was simply an ever-ceasing abundance of numbness. It polluted every part of him, from the tip of his head to the ends of his toes; he was nothing but one brick wall. If there was a way past the barriers around his heart none had found it. Of course that was all assuming he still had a heart. Some nights he’d recall how he used to be before his father’s death. The shy boy that was kind to most and happy at the same time. Yes there had been a time when Stephen really was happy…that didn’t exist anymore though and that left that memory of the past just that…a memory.

The sound of feet shuffling stilled him further. It wasn’t often Stephen met with company in the middle of the night, but there had been a few occasions. Now was not the time for company and he rose slowly and surely, almost like that of a ghost. He would scare them off, last thing he needed was someone intruding on his solace. The sound came from the girls dormitory and he waited at the corner until they came into view. Stepping into her path he glared down at the girl, the form far more familiar than he wished it to be. “The common room is off…oh, it’s you.” Stephen’s voice was flat and emotionless as he recognized Dakota Fox…the girl he’d basically destroyed, or so it seemed, as she was hardly the girl he had first known. There was no cold, demanding presence to her now…it was only small and childlike…fearful in a way. The girl had learned something at least…she had finally learned to fear him. It was a comforting thought to say the least, knowing that he had taught her the lesson months ago when he’d taken advantage of her. A small part of him cringed at the thought. So maybe there was compassion within him…it was just hidden under layers of hatred and apathy.

“Why don’t you just turn tail and return to your bed, princess. I don’t have any money on me to pay you for tonight,” Stephen said as he turned his back on her. She wasn’t worthy of his attention any longer. She’d leave sooner or later. Stephen knew this, just as he knew the sun would rise in the East and set in the West. The last seven or so months she’d done nothing but avoid him, even when they had classes together. She was afraid of him and she had every right to be. That’s how he knew she’d stay away from him, leave him to solace. She was a child…a simple little girl that knew nothing of the real world and when Stephen had given her a taste of it she’d broken down, she was nothing more than a broken porcelain doll. It seemed Daddy really hadn’t been there to save her. Just like his father hadn’t been there to save him.

[Dakota Fox S6]

((Lol could you please edit your post to say it's PG-13? Thanks.))


A shiver shook her inside out. The tremor raged like adrenaline, like panic, whilst the pores of her unblemished, scarless skin gave nothing away of the nightmare in her mind. Dakota sucked in a shaking breath and prayed her dormmates - her ignorant, innocent dormmates - were asleep so they couldn't hear her fear, smell it in her dilated eyes, flared nostrils, silent scream in her mouth as she re-lived the ordeal again, and again, and again. Stop, she cried over and over. Please stop. but no matter how times she pleaded, he didn't stop; and neither did the memories of tears and pain... the sound of her innocence breaking that had done nothing to deter Stephen Donahue.

Ever since that night - only a few days ago, wasn't it? It felt like this evening, it was so close - Dakota had been unable to sleep. Her eyes carried with it a haunted look, dazed with fear and numb with horrifed shock. She walked round School like a ghost, heartless, and dismissed her lackeys with impatient, careless waves of her hands, and they assumed Dakota Fox had not changed. But she had, and very soon everyone would realise it and desert her. She would be left alone, without structure, without support. Stephen had ruined everything. Everything.

Dakota no longer wished to become the Minister of Magic. Or rather, her goals, all her ambitions, they had been lost overnight, replaced with pure hatred, a figure to despise and to resent, bitterness of the most venomous, poisonous form: revenge. Dakota's eyes flashed at the thought of hurting Stephen Donahue; of throwing every ounce of pain he had given her that night back to him. I hate you, she had said. I hate you so much. She did, oh she did. "I hate you," she whispered to the night audience, tears in her eyes.

With a silken yet cold nightgown thrown over her fragile shoulders - the shoulders of a girl taken and abused and struggling to come to terms with her loss - Dakota wandered dazedly from her bed, down to the Common Room. Her dorm, shared with five innocent children, was beginning to suffocate her; their breathing the sound of Dakota's desperate cries that echoed in her ears. She had begun the habit of visiting the Common Room in the last few nights, sitting there, alone, until dawn cleared the night's mist and it was safe for Dakota to crawl into her bed again, still wide awake yet completely exhausted.

However, unlike the previous nights, there was a figure waiting for Dakota in the Common Room. She froze at the sight of the man; he was shrouded in shadow but the fear that bottled in her throat told her it was him. Maybe she had become paranoid of Stephen - Stephen, Stephen everywhere - but when he turned around, Dakota knew this wasn't a nightmare. Stephen Donahue stood, very much alive, in front of her. Her first instinct was to run; run as far away as possible, out of reach of this monster. She was scared. But Dakota was also rooted to the spot, her feet pale and white against the carpet. She couldn't move - for fear, for what?

The sound of Stephen's familiar voice jarred in Dakota's ears and she jerked out of her horrified trance. Automatically she took a step back, her body trembling in his presence. She couldn't do this, she couldn't-- And then Stephen spoke again, words of cruelty and completely nonchalence, and Dakota couldn't believe her ears. Her fears faded away as rage roared into her chest, propelling one foot forward again. "You son of a b****," Dakota spat in a low hiss, one arm protective over her chest, the other clutching her other arm, nails digging blood out of her like she was tainted.

Dakota stood there, shaking and unable to choke out more. A few seconds later, she turned her back on Stephen and left up the stairs, leaving him to likely assume she had 'turned tail' and run away - but Stephen was wrong, Dakota wouldn't do that, even though her instincts screamed in memory of his hands, his relentless hands... Moments later, Dakota was back in the Common Room again, and without pausing for thought, she stormed straight into Stephen so they were only a metre apart. Then she flung the Galleons from the other night into his face.

"I don't need your f-ing money," Dakota hissed, her eyes burning with hatred. "I don't need anything from you except your pathetic excuse for a life! If it's the last thing I'll do, Stephen Donahue," she spat his name like poison, "is kill you. I will hunt you down and hurt you like you hurt me, you b******!" Pausing for breath, Dakota took a shaky step back, eyes boring into Stephen's expressionless skull. "Do you feel better now? she sneered, goading, resentment and bitter flowing from her like cheap red wine. "Having taken someone like me, broken someone you hate so much? Does it make you feel good?! Tell me! Are you sick enough... are you completely deaf to the word 'stop'? I said STOP, you b******!" Dakota's nails scraped her fists as she stemmed the tears that threatened to show. An apology would not save her now. What was done was done.

[Stephen Donahue S7]

The fire seemed to burst, the embers striking to life a fresh piece of wood, as Stephen tensed. His whole body was on alert as he kept his back to Dakota Fox. There was a darkness to her tone of voice, a darkness that Stephen didn’t think she was capable of, but then again he’d never really figured the strength that women seemed to possess when it came to their emotions. A chill ran up his spine only briefly before he heard her turn on her heels and run back up the stairs. A satisfied little smile pulled at his lips as he nodded his head. He was alone once again; yes this is what he had wanted to begin with. Lungs filled deep with the chill night air before he relaxed his body enough to move. Things seemed inconsequential at the moment…what he had been doing was now long forgotten. The firelight glinted off the walls as he moved to pull out a flask hidden in the pocket of his pants.

However he would not have time to enjoy the drink as a few seconds later Dakota came storming back into the Common Room. He turned to meet her, eyebrows rising as she came so close to him before she flung the Galleons at him. Arms rose instinctually to keep from being hit in the face with the flying gold coins. Hazel orbs burned with anger for merely a split instant before returning to the apathetic expression he always wore as he felt her anger directed at him. She was screaming at him, loud enough that it would certainly wake someone else in the blasted dormitory, but he wasn’t going to try to stop her. This was her little rant and rave and he was going to allow her to have, because that meant she would deal with his soon after. Her words fell upon deaf ears at that time. There was nothing in Stephen that made him feel sorry for what he had done, nothing that would make him think twice before doing it again. She had deserved the lesson she got and he knew that she would be forever changed, just like he was when his innocence was stolen from him by his father’s need to die. At least she had known what was coming.

As soon as the last word had left her mouth Stephen was already moving, his body controlled and smooth as hands wrapped around her shoulders and slammed her against the Common Room wall, pinning her there. “Listen to me you stupid little girl,” he said, his voice was low and held a dangerous, threatening tone. “There is nothing that you can say or do that will make me feel remorse for you…nothing you can do that will put yourself on my radar again. You’re a cheap wh*re and one that means absolutely nothing to me. So why don’t you just go cry to that rich Daddy of yours and have me sent back to Azkaban…of course that’s assuming he doesn’t find you repulsive after he finds out…I know I would.” Stephen smirked in almost a sadistic way as he smashed his lips to her one last time out of pure amusement before releasing her. “By the way…you may have said stop, but your body said otherwise…or did you think I wouldn’t notice that little factor? Nothing but a dirty little wh*re.” Stephen wrapped his hands around her wrists and pulled her toward the door. “Now get back to bed…no one will want you if you don’t get your beauty sleep like the rest of the prostitutes.”

[Dakota Fox S6]

Dakota gave a shriek torn between rage and fear as Stephen's stronger hold pressed her like a helpless doll against the wall. She had got too close; she had lost control. Now she was even weaker than before, pinned under Stephen's intense glare; her wrists ached beneath his tight grasp, her breathing trapped in her throat. Dakota struggled uselessly against his hold, choking back frightened sobs as she whispered, "No, please, no!" Echoes of their first night together. But the flame in Dakota's eyes didn't cease; the memory of her pain and revenge still simmered like coal beneath the surface of her moist eyes. "Let me go," she hissed, blinking away tears through her shaking demand. "Let me go!" Her words died in her throat as Stephen's voice silenced her, but she didn't stop resisting him, kicking hard against his legs, desperate to evoke even a fraction of the pain she had felt because of him.

"I don't want your remorse!" Dakota snarled in Stephen's face, her rage helping her find her voice and daring again. "I don't need your f-ing remorse! It's too late for that! Do you think feeling sorry for me, saying sorry to me, is going to change anything, you son of a b****?!" She slammed herself against his grip, her face leering dangerously close to his. Her breath fanned his cheek even as her heart leapt in horrified memory of their last physically close encounter. "I'm not a w****," Dakota bit out resentfully, feeling every stab of pain Stephen sent her way to target her dignity in the stinging of her eyes. "You took me for a w****, you made me a w****, Donahue! Don't you dare lay the blame on me!" Her scathing tongue rasped against her teeth as tears finally ran free down her face. "I said stop and if I had been a few days younger*..." Dakota bit her lip, unable to say the word aloud - unable to define the crime Stephen had committed against her. "You're a criminal, Donahue!"

But of course. Dakota had forgotten that Stephen had once been rumoured to have been to Azkaban. It seemed the rumours she had been so curious to unfold when she had met him so many months ago on the Express were true. But now she couldn't care less... It was too late. Even if she had discovered the truth she would not have heeded them. Dakota had never stopped for anything or anyone. "You should go back to where you belong, you b******," she growled, her fingernails scraping against Stephen's palm. Her captor was right about one thing, though: she could never tell Daddy. Never. What would he do? Disown her, most certainly. Dakota couldn't live with that. She would rather die than give up her right as a Fox. "You know nothing," she began, before her words were cut off with a violent mouth crushing against hers. A noise of horror and fear erupted from her throat, but it came muffled, and all Dakota could do was flail like a dying fish against Stephen's hold. Again she was beneath him, losing to him. Her tears smeared between their faces and she swore again, then, that she would kill him. She would kill him.

Dakota stumbled like a broken doll against the wall as Stephen finally released her. Her wrists hurt from his strength, her eyes stung with tears and her lips burnt from his touch, and it took the fisting of her fingers and the little mettle left in her little body that kept her upright. Visibly shaking from the brief ordeal, Dakota's eyes kept turned to the floor as Stephen spoke. Her irises were bright with fear but black with darkness, and finally she looked up. "You know that wasn't me," Dakota hissed. "You know that was the alcohol. At first, it was the alcohol. And then I said stop. I said stop, stop, stop!" A deranged glimmer entered Dakota's eye as she raved from memories not so long ago. "So don't you dare tell me if I wanted it or not!" she snarled. "Don't you f-ing dare! Don't try and make yourself feel better, don't act like you're the innocent one in this, because the truth is you're a criminal!"

Before Dakota could blink, Stephen's hand was around her wrist again. She floundered from the ghastly touch, her cries frightened and angry as she tried to pull away. Her tears choked her words of protest, but finally he released her again and she crumbled into herself, only just about managing to stay standing. She was a mess of shivering tears and emotional rage. There no longer stood Miss Dakota Fox, the world at her feet. Now she was at Stephen's mercy. "F*** off," Dakota was able to gasp out scathingly, before turning around and stumbling up the stairs. She couldn't face him anymore. She just couldn't. Her life couldn't get any worse than this. But very soon, it would. Stephen Donahue left paths of destruction. And this was just the beginning.


((*Since Dakota's birthday is 1st January and the incident probably happened a few days after that.))