Title: Fixation of Color Author: Siren of Crepusculars Beta: EminaKotek-nightmare Warnings: AU, OOC, male x male relationship, feminine!Harry, character death Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Romeo and Juliet. Those are the properties of J.K. Rowling and William Shakespeare respectively. Song lyrics by Des'ree from the song "Kissing You (Rome and Juliet Love Theme" Notes: Instead of the Capulets, it's the Potters and instead of Montague it's Malfoy. Romeo Montague is Romeo Malfoy, and Harry Potter, is Halien Potter. This story is divided into two parts, both two different stories. Listen to "Kissing You" when you read the 'first meeting scene' "Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life."
"Halien, darling, are you not ready yet?"
"..."
"Halien," his mother knocked sharply on the door. Said boy turned onto his side, his green eyes gazing blankly at the opposite wall. His pajamas wrinkled beyond recognition, and his hair braided messily behind him, he was nowhere near ready to attend a grand masquerade set to be held in an hour's time. He closed his eyes against his mother's aggravated, long-suffering screech, contenting himself to visualize being anywhere but there.
His fingers fiddled with the top of his pillow, as he slowly mouthed random music lyrics that came to mind. He had always loved the alternative bands that seemed to be popping out of the blue, with their techno beats and raucous lyrics.
"Halien!"
Unable to ignore the woman any longer, he quickly pulled himself out of bed, nose flaring. Nowadays, a moment's peace was more blessing than mere entitlement. His mother planned parties to be held every other night, it seemed, something he would never understand. If a guest was seen the night before, what made her think that they needed to appear the night after that and the night after that and et cetera? It was ridiculous, to which his father explained that it was a womanly thing. Halien would understand when he was older, although the way the comment was phrased, he was sure that his father was referring to the fact that it would be Halien that went ballistic.
"Coming, mother," Halien called through the door sweetly. He hastily tore of his pajamas, thankful that he had taken a shower not two hours ago. He was clean at any rate, and didn't stink, unless the smell of roses and lilacs irritated the innocent bystander. He went to his wardrobe in nothing but his briefs, his pale skin pratically glowing as he flicked through the costumes the maids had brought him.
Butterfly, cat, pumpkin, wizard, random monster, he shook his head as he continued to look. Thankfully, his mother had given up calling him, but he could still here the impatient tapping of a heel against the wood floor. He rolled his eyes. She would have to learn patience at some point. Why not now? He smirked, almost squealing as he came across a perfect costume. He snatched the costume off the hanger it was on, going to stand in the mirror. Holding the costume up to him, he imagined himself in it, everyone's glued to him, but all the men no one that he was hand's off. He liked making people wagged their tongues at him. With a gentle touch, he slipped into the costume, fixing the wings snugly onto his back.
He twirled in front of the mirror, tilting his head at the silver and gold crystals, shimmering in the light. Tapping his chin, he tilted his head, contemplating what else he could add. "Aha!" He snapped his fingers, opening his jewelry box. Carefully he opened the secret compartment holding all of his most precious jewels, smiling softly as he opened a velvet box, holding his sixteenth birthday present. It was an earring, a small karat gold earring for the single piercing he had in his left ear. A present from his mother, who believed it was more a majority bash than a regular party. He snorted mentally; his mother was an interesting character to say the least.
Delicately, he slid the earring into place, hassling over to the door. He whipped it open, plastering a small smile on his face. "I apologize for keeping you waiting, mother," he recited dutifully, stepping out of the way as she rushed inside.
"Close the door, Halien," she ordered, twirling around to face him.
Her green eyes, duller than his own from age, inspected his costume, taking in the random rips and tears that had jumped out at him. She leaned forward to peer at his wings, nodding appreciatively. "Very nice, darling, although, I daresay, we absolutely must do something about your hear. It looks positively...dreadful," she stated calmly. His mother patted the cheer in front of the vanity. "Sit, and let's see what mummy can do for you, mhm?"
He blushed lightly. Why did she insist on mothering him so? 'Mummy?' Whose mother called themselves that? Besides Dudley, he sneered, his mind flashing to his overweight cousin, who sadly would be in attendance at the ball. He was a disgusting pig, and his parents were dreadfully rude to the highest degree. He sat down in the hardwood chair, wincing slightly as his mother roughly pulled his hair out of the braid. Did she have to be so rough?
Halien closed his eyes against the tugging, relaxing into his mother's touch. His mother brushed his hair in measured strokes, speaking softly to him. "The Blacks are most assuredly going to be in attendance, Walburga has promised me that," she murmured, "and the Pettigrews," she spat the name out. Halien understood her feelings. The Pettigrews were perhaps the most untrustworthy bunch he had met. And their son, Peter...well his actions implied a softly burning obsession, that if left to simmer would only come back to burn Halien. His mother's voice quickly lightened, "but no matter, your father will deal with them. Anyways, the ball will be a complete hit! The Riddles are coming, bringing Thomas along, of course." At this, she nudged him in the shoulder. The message was clear, he scowled.
"Mother, we've talked of this. I'm not ready for -"
"I think I know what you are and aren't ready for," she interrupted firmly. "He is a good match for you, and didn't you say that he was, and I quote, 'quite fetching for a man going on twenty-five.'" Halien opened his eyes to catch the reflection of his mother looking at him pointedly. "You're going to be seventeen soon -"
"-in ten months-" he grumbled under his breath.
"-and I think it's about time you settled down. Need I remind you that I was married by now and was well on my way on having you," she continued as if Halien hadn't interrupted. She fluffed different pieces of hair, putting the finishes touches on a few strands, clapping her hands together.
"Done," she announced, "Might I say, you look dashing, darling Halien." To accentuate her words, she brushed her fingertips down the side of his cheekbone, tapping the cheek lightly as she did so. "My how you've grown."
"You always say that," Halien said cheekily, grinning. "Cue the part where you say some man is going to be lucky to have you." He giggled. "But I know you only mean well," he added.
"And I do," she confirmed, walking back to the door. "Oh, put some shoes on, the soft flats should do. You look lovely," she complimented one last time before opening the door and stepping back into the hall.
Already, he could hear the beginnings of the party. Soon his presence would become a requirement; he would have to spend hours on end fraternizing with guests, laughing at crudely told jokes, and avoiding the man who had his mother convinced of his right to Halien's hand at marriage. Overall, he snarled to himself, it would a very unproductive night.
Halien turned back to his reflection, touching his hair, marveling at how feminine like he looked. True, it was more than obvious that he was a boy, his body lithely designed, but otherwise he was completely feminine in appearance. His lips were a natural bright red, plump, kissable, some men described. His eyes glowed a vibrant green behind dark lashes. In other words, he was perfect.
Or at least he liked to think so.
With a sigh, he slipped on his shoes and went to join his mother in small talk, and fake smiles. It was a tantamount as to why parties like these were a no.
"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this. My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
Romeo glared at his friend, snarling under his breath darkly. "I don't want to go. Why are you making me do things against my will?"
His friend chuckled, pulling harder on Romeo's arm, making the man wince in discomfort. "This is for your own good. You have been moping for too long. It isn't healthy for a man to go without the warmth of another warm body for so long," Blaise commented, puffing out his chest.
Romeo shook his head, "If it is my will to mope and brood, then I shall. It is no business of yours." He tugged his arm out of Blaise's grip, standing his ground on the sidewalk. Blaise stood in front of him, his hands to his sides.
"You are my friend, of course it is my business. Forget about Fleur, alright? She was nothing more than a nice figure, no brains, you know," Blaise joked, flicking Romeo's forehead. "Find someone else. There is many a beauty around her to go around." Blaise gained a far off look, pretending to see them in the air.
He shoved his friend harshly. "I have no desire to forget her," he said forcefully, "I am in love with her. She was the one. There will be no other. She was it," he repeated more quietly to himself. Louder, he said, "If you want to go so badly, go yourself. Besides, I doubt they will let a Malfoy in. They are the Potters, after all. Our families go back to the Dark Ages." Romeo turned his back to his friend, beginning to walk away.
"Wait!" Blaise called from behind him. "Just-If you find no other that catches your eye, then you can leave immediately, and go home so that you may cry yourself to death." Blaise smirked slightly as his friend swiftly swirled back around.
"I do not cry," Romeo retorted indignantly. He narrowed his eyes at his friend's trembling body. The moon shone brightly on the dark-colored boy, and he could see the glittering eyes of laughter. He scowled, walking briskly back. "I do not cry over Fleur. I merely contemplate the wrongs I must have committed to have caused her to leave me." He bowed his head, once again becoming saddened. "She was the one," he said again.
Blaise patted Romeo's back hesitantly, guiding the man down the sidewalk leisurely. "Don't worry about her. There are more where she came from, especially the Potter's son. I've heard is a real eye-catcher, a beauty like no other."
Romeo laughed breathlessly, no humor in his tone, "I am sure he is, my dear friend." He glanced sideways at Blaise, eyes narrowed. "I hope you do not plan to bed him. It is forbidden for you to do so. Does the name Pansy Parkinson not ring a bell in your overly thick skull?" Romeo elbowed Blaise. "Your parents would be more than a little -"
"Can I not speak of a dame without your accusations coming at me from all ends? I am a man, after all, and our attention cannot be held by one too long. We would lose our voracity and life. All that makes us men," Blaise exclaimed.
"I think you lose sight of what a man is," Romeo commented thoughtfully. "You should remain faithful to Pansy. She is quite besotted with you." Romeo cocked his head to look at Blaise's face, which at a dark smile on it.
"Of that Romeo," Blaise said, "I am quite aware. Alas, it is because she wants my money and not my good looks." He pretended to faint, placing all of his weight on Romeo, who rolled his eyes.
"Drama Queen, you are. Which brings the question of why you are dressed in drag to mind," Romeo grimaced. He tugged on the hem of the short skirt to emphasis his point. "You look beyond ridiculous."
"I look sexy," Blaise corrected, using his free hand to fluff his wig. "Bet everyone at the ball with just think me to be a woman dressed as a man who is dressed as a woman." He spoke with such confidence that it made Romeo wonder how many masquerades he had attended before. Not to say that Romeo didn't attend balls of any sort; he didn't attend the wild, unruly ones that Blaise seemed to frequent them more often than not. He decided, however, to not voice his question. There were some details he could do without.
In the distance, Romeo caught sight of the Potter mansion, the lights flashing in all sorts of direction. The music was loud enough that it could be heard from where they were, and it spurred Blaise into walking faster, silver five-inch heels clacking away.
"They've already started," he whined, dragging Romeo, "It's all your fault."
"Considering that you are late for everything on a regular basis, I wonder how this is any different," Romeo said dryly. He shrugged his shoulders at Blaise's glare. "The truth is meant to be stated at times like these," he said simply.
"Yeah, well, keep the truth to yourself. Sometimes it hurts," Blaise pointed out matter-of-factly.
"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me that I must love a loathed enemy."
Halien held back a pained look, as his tenth partner stepped on his foot.
Again.
"Ow," he complained, fluctuating the word. "That hurt," he added sarcastically for his own benefit.
The boy, for that was what he could only be-his dancing was so horrendous, glanced down at him worriedly. "Sorry. I-um-that is-uh-you see..." He sputtered over his words, causing Halien to decide right then to cut the dance with him short. He looked around the dance floor, searching for a plausible escape route. As if on cue, a dancing couple shifted slightly and he caught a glimpse of his father conversing with Thomas. His mother's 'betrothed' for him.
"Excuse me for a moment," he said with practiced kindness. Bowing his head politely, he slipped out of the boy's sweaty grip, holding back the urge to run into the nearest bathroom and wash his hands. Lithely, he weaved his body through the passionate dancers around him, smiling at familiar faces.
"Father," Halien interrupted smoothly. He stood closely to Thomas, fluttering his eyelashes in an unobtrusive manner. He ran a finger up the man's naked collarbone, murmuring appreciatively at the man's demon-like costume. Red eyes watched him, unbridled desire radiating out of them, a hidden challenge. Of what...
"Might I steal your companion away," he asked abruptly, flashing a smile his father's way. He watched as his father nodded unsurely, gulping as he grasped what his son was doing. Halien all but smirked as his father said, "Of course."
"Follow me," he purred, leading Thomas by the chains around his neck. He heard his father laugh nervously, as he turned to engage a business partner in small talk.
With careful precision, Halien turned around to rub his backside into his dance partner's front, his head falling back. The music had changed to a fast paced song; the song bouncing off the walls. All of the older folk had used this time as a way to catch a breath, while the young people-the majority-changed their dancing styles to the...less appropriate ones. Or, Halien's expertise. He began to gyrate his hips, feeling Thomas's hot breath against his neck. Teasingly, the man began to drag kisses up and down the curve, sucking ever so slowly on one particular spot.
Halien may not have been ready for marital relations with Thomas, but that didn't mean he didn't want other things, he thought gripping Thomas's head closer.
And there were plenty of other things that he might want.
"You are too innocent," Thomas breathed hoarsely against his neck. He felt hands coming up to grip his waist tightly, pushing him further back into Thomas. The beginnings of an erection brushed up against the hem of his fae skirt, bringing a groan to his lips. "You have no idea what you do to me, what you make me want to do to you."
Halien hummed, "I think I have a good idea, Thomas." He twisted himself around in the man's tight grip. "And I like it." His eyes gazed into the dark red ones of Thomas. He leaned closer, lips barely touching and then -
"There you are, lovely," his mother giggled drunkenly, pulling him forcibly away from Thomas. "I have been looking everywhere for you."
He frowned, turning to his mother. He could feel the burning gaze of Thomas on his back. Halien mumbled in his head in disappointment, his mother becoming the devil in disguise in his mind. Who in their right mind would have thought that his own mother was a cock-blocker? Immediately a blush formed on his face.
"Oh, what's a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection to which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff that name! And for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.
His mother shoved him in front of another man, gushing words of praise. "This is one of the boys I'm always telling you about," she said in a 'don't-you-remember' tone. Then, when the boy wasn't looking she gestured with her head for him to step closer. 'Introduce yourself' she mouthed, waving her hands in a shooing motion.
"I'm Halien," he drawled nonchalantly. He held his hand out expectantly. Instead of kissing the back of the hand, the red-headed boy shook it enthusiastically, earning raised eyebrows from mother and son.
Embarrassed, the boy introduced himself as Ronald Weasley, an ugly name to be sure, but that was a comment better saved for the conversations of the mind. "My father speaks highly of your family. It is quite an honor to meet you." Halien grimaced at the practiced tone the boy spoke in, as if he had rehearsed what he was going to say, as if he had assumed Halien would magically appear at his side willingly. He didn't even want to be at the ball, at all.
"Mhm," he grunted uninterestedly. Halien lowered his head, buffing his nails against his ripped shirt, wings bouncing as he shifted his feet impatiently. He turned to his mother, as the silence lengthened. He made a coughing noise, drawing her attention. "If I may be excused, I must freshen up," he said. Without waiting for an answer, he walked away, eyes widening in disbelief when he was sure they weren't looking at him. His mother wanted him to tie the family to that. The boy, Ronald, he corrected mockingly, didn't even know how to greet people properly!
"Unbelievable," he mumbled to himself, weaving his way off the floor completely going to stand in front of the grand fish tank. He smiled wistfully, thinking back to when they had first gotten it.
Halien had been five at the time, and obsessed with fish, especially the colorful ones. They were so beautiful, some of their designs so unique, he couldn't help but be in complete awe. How something could be so amazing and disgusting at the same time was a wonder all its own. Fish was a food he did not enjoy, didn't plan on enjoying, and probably never would enjoy. He peered closely at the tank, following one particular fish, his green eyes flashing.
Up, and down, and up, and down, and eyes...
He blinked. Eyes?
Looking closer, he saw a boy, watching him closely, his mouth open. They stared at each other, neither moving. Halien took in the boy's appearance, the chainmail of the costume, the hazel-colored eyes, and dirty blond hair. His lips curved on their own accord, the boy opposite him doing the same. Mesmerized, Halien continued to move to the side.
"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"
Romeo couldn't help but gaze deeply at the dark haired beauty in front of him. How anyone could be that tempting was a mystery, a mystery that he wanted to unravel and twist and contort until it was his and his only. Everything about the boy called to him, and he followed without question. He was an angel, for that was the only this he could be, an angel sent to him by heaven, for him to lavish upon sweetly with his last breath.
"Oh, how your beauty speaks to me," he mouthed. "How you entice me, dark angel."
They continued to step together, a secret dance, that brought them closer to the actual - He straightened himself to full height, marveling at the beauty who stood in front of him. Stepping closer he said to himself quietly, "Thy distortions haven't done justice to thy beauty."
"Do you always speak this sweetly, or is it only for thine ears?"
Pride can't stand a thousand trials the strong will never fall
The voice was so pure, that Romeo was sure that it was an angel. He smiled crookedly, reaching out a hand to touch his beauty's cheek. "Thine ears take these words from my lips and make me speak them. I cannot help but lose myself," he whispered, moving closer.
He couldn't explain it. It was as if he were a man of lie and truth at the same time; he was drenched in fire and ice at once, as if he were starving and full...
"You are too kind for me to stand to hear you speak anymore," the dark angel replied equally quiet. "Control your tongue, dear sir, or control me, so that I do not steal you away from yourself."
"Thy sharp tongue wounds me, but do not worry for I am a tamer of sharpness." Romeo could barely breathe, his mind spun rapidly. Thoughts of Fleur, of sadness, of brooding flew out of his mind, and the beauty in front of him consumed him, ensnared him in a tangled web. "And if thy could be a blesser of sins, then thy lips will take what holiness is offered," he leaned closer. Their eyes stayed connected.
but watching stars without you my soul cries 'cause I'm kissing you
"Then I shall snatch my sin away again," Romeo voiced passionately. Their lips were barely a hair breadth apart. He was so close. He began to close his eyes; already he could taste his angel.
"Halien!"
The moment was broken when a woman with fiery red hair snagged Romeo's angel from his grasp, pulling him back to the dance floor. His angel reached out to him, walking backwards, then falling into the arms of another man.
Romeo leaned against the pillar, his eyes never leaving the angel in front of him. He wanted to rip him from the arms of the other, and pull his angel against his chest. He smiled as the man whom he was dancing with, twirled his angel, Halien, wildly, waving his angel around rambunctiously.
His angel kept his green eyes on Romeo, making him smile wider. Slowly, he moved backwards, hiding behind the pillar, watching with amusement as his angel's eyes widened as he searched for Romeo. It brought a sense of pride, that he could make his angel want him, the way Romeo already wanted him.
Touch me deep, pure, and true
Romeo rested his head against the sculpted pillar, swaying his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his angel go to stand at the opposite pillar, a light smile on his face. If Romeo dared, he would go as far to say that there was a slight sadness hidden in the smile. If he dared...and he did, he thought with determination. He crept behind the fish tank to the opposite pillar, ignoring the amazed "oohs" and "aahs" of the people on the dance floor. He was thankful that their eyes were drawn upwards to the fireworks above. His heart hammered rapidly against his chest as he reached out, gently brushing the shoulder bone of his angel.
"Alas you were stolen from me, and I was lost, but no more," he said. "No more," he uttered.
His angel glanced around quickly, stepping backwards, into Romeo's chest. He turned, his angel's hands spread out on his chest. Romeo breathed in shakily once more, opening his mouth to speak again, pulling his angel as he did so, "Taken from me for even a second, is like taking away my heaven. I cannot breathe."
"Once again, you speak without thought," his angel whispered, reaching upwards. "Your callousness is your downfall, sir, if you think I will bow myself under you and allow you reprieve from your suffering."
Give to me forever
Romeo chuckled darkly at the reply, "I dare to presume as much because I am sure." And as if on cue, the elevator behind them dinged, its doors opening welcoming. Spurred on, Romeo dragged his angel upwards, his lips brushing against the smaller's. The doors shut on them but it went unnoticed as Romeo pulled back once to stare at his angel's face once more.
"You are bold in your actions," his angel began.
cause I am kissing you
"I cannot but want more of thy angel, if he will have me."
"You ask of angel to have a sinner," his angel laughed, the bell-like sound lodging itself into Romeo's mind.
"If I am a sinner, then you are my savior."
"And if I am your savior," his angel said, wrapping his legs around Romeo's waist, "Then who will save me?"
"I shall."
Their lips connected again in another deep kiss, and Romeo pressed harder into his angel, groaning at the lithe warmth being so freely given. He pulled away again, lips barely brushing, "I shall save you, and then I shall take you. Again," kiss, "again," kiss," and again. Until I cannot any longer."
"Then, you shall die of exhaustion," kiss," and where shall I be then?" His angel mocked.
"Where you will always be..." Romeo took one of his angel's hands and pressed it over his heart. "In this place, where I will keep you forever safe."
His angel appeared contemplative, before speaking again, "I do not dwell well in captivity."
"I do not dwell well in loneliness."
"If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down."
Romeo's eyes moved upwards, to where he knew his angel must be.
"Sweet Halien," he murmured, licking his lips. The taste of his angel's lips still remained. "My darling, lovely sweet Halien." Beside him, Blaise chuckled drunkenly to himself. His friend twirled around, walking in zig-zags without a care to the rest of the world.
The night air was cool against his scorching skin, his very body burning from his encounter with the angel. Suddenly, Blaise was all over him, hands roaming everywhere, as his friend struggled to form words.
"Izz thatz the name of the Potterzzz son, I hear from your dirtied lips," Blaise slurred. A drunken smile appeared on his lips. "Naughty, naughty."
Romeo snapped his head back to the mansion. "What did you say?" Did his ears deceive him? He couldn't possibly have heard right. Running a hand through his hair, he brushed his lips lightly.
"Does the taste of a Potter linger on my tongue and in my soul," he asked himself. But did it truly matter, an unconscious part of his mind questioned. If you truly want him, did any of it matter?
"He is my god given angel," he told himself. With resolve, he began walking back to the mansion, paying no mind to Blaise's calls that he return. "I shall tell your father," his friend shouted.
"Do so and face my wrath," he called back, a smile on his face taking away from the threat. He clenched his fists together, thanking the gods that they hadn't been too far away from the mansion. Sneaking a glance both ways, he dove into the bushes, ducking as some drunkards and party-goers clamored past, speaking and joking loudly. His armor clanked lowly as he began to crawl his way under the bushes towards the wall he knew to be not far ahead. Reaching the wall, he checked his surroundings again, grinning in silent thanks, as he began to climb the wall, dropping down on the other side.
"Well, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."
Halien lounged lazily on his balcony, listening to the crickets beneath. His parents had sense gone to sleep, and his maid was placing the finish touches on his own bed, her humming carrying out to him. He still had his costume on, unable to take it off, even as the party had ended.
His mind flashed the brilliant face of the boy, his bright eyes staring into his own, Halien's legs wrapped around that strong body, their words of sharp clarity and passion, it all rushed through his head, even as part of him tried to push them out. He breathed in deeply, his head falling back without support. His hands drew circles into his thighs.
"Am I fated to feel this way...about a Malfoy no less," he thought aloud. His voice carried unknowingly to the gardens, as he continued to speak to himself. "He is an enemy, alas! I am doomed. Doomed till my heart gives way to mind, but..." He trailed off, eyes looking upwards at the moon.
"But," he repeated, his voice becoming quieter, "I cannot let such a feeling escape me, for a rose is a rose whether it is called as such or if it is not. He is Romeo whether his name begets him, which it does."
Halien contemplated further. "He is already consuming me," he stood up suddenly, going to stand at the rail of the balcony. "What have you done to me Romeo? Overtaking my resolve and setting it to allow you inwards where you will grow and fester like any other wound?"
"Romeo, Romeo, come to me, so that I may share my thoughts, and look upon your wondrous face." He spoke the words, knowing within himself, that Romeo would not show up. His wishes were petty, unbalanced, and unseemly, in the words of his mother.
He started out of his musings, a voice, sweet and soft, carrying upwards.
"Doth the angel speak his unwavering tongue, luring me like a siren into thy fated trap," a hushed voice uttered. "And I, weak as I am, remain, unwilling to turn away into the darkness for fear of never seeing such a light again." There was a pause. Halien held his breath, looking over the rail.
"Is this Romeo, or am I losing my mind in wishful thinking?"
The man, of whom he spoke, appeared from behind the statue in the middle of his family's garden, his dark hair falling about his face wildly, and his eyes staring intently at Halien. He met his gaze, unwavering, a small smile twisting his lips. Sensually, he caressed the rail underneath his fingers, sashaying his hips as he paced the balcony. He licked his lips, the memory of their shared kiss, washing his mind of all else.
"It is I, sweet angel," Romeo said hoarsely. His eyes searched the garden for any guards that might have been lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike him down. No matter the thoughts of the angel over him, he was a Malfoy...the enemy, slayer of the Potters, or as his father and brothers would like to think. He moved hesitantly away from the statue, "And is it you, angel, that I speak to or am I hapless and wandering?"
Halien laughed, his head tilting back, his mouth open, revealing his teeth. "You are definitely a man of many sweet words. Words that might doom us both to the deepest pits of hell, the fury of many falling down after us," he observed, his laughter dying away.
The smile that had begun to form on Romeo's lips died away as well. "I would not let you fall into a monster's grave, but one of beauty and happiness...with me," he added, his words more question than wooing comment. By now, he stood underneath his angel, meeting Halien's viridian with his own hazel. He began to scale the walls, fear of falling seeping away from him. What was a fall to one touch of his sweet Halien? It was nothing, of course! His mind spouted indignantly.
"Have I ever loved till now," he contemplated unabashed, "Have I ever known anything as true? Such beauty has not been bestowed upon my pilgrim eyes until this night." Halien's smile returned at full force, his small hand brushing across Romeo's cheek bone.
"Say nothing of my looks. If they are the only thing that have called you to me, then we are not one, but two hearts, separated -"
"Ah, dear beauty, you mistake my words. Your beauty merely wrapped itself around me, so that I may notice the honest wonders underneath," Romeo said passionately, pushing his face further into Halien's touch. He rubbed his cheek up and down the soft hand, before turning his head. His lips brushed lovingly across Halien's 'palm, causing the boy to snap his hand back.
"Why are you here?" Halien tried to sound sharp and condescending, unrelenting his gaze. Reality of the situation came rushing back to him in full force. How could he possibly think that Romeo being a Malfoy was alright? It wasn't, he told himself. It wasn't alright and if his parents knew of his- "You shouldn't have come. Leave now," he said sharply.
Briskly he turned away, eyes cast downwards.
"Wait," Romeo called out, "Don't leave me angel. Please, allow me to gaze unto thine beauty and -"
"The party's over you don't have to speak as if you're from the middle ages," Halien spat. Romeo reared back from his perch on the balcony, feeling oddly like an Aladdin with no magic carpet, or mischievous genie to help him out. His angel squinted his eyes, "Why are you like this," he asked bemused. "I thought-we kissed. And it felt wonderful, didn't it mean anything," Romeo breathed.
"It was just a kiss," Halien said. He was frozen in the entrance, unable to turn around, but also unable to continue to walk away. Something within him was holding him back, keeping him stationery. "A kiss that I have given to many others before, and will do so afterwards. It means nothing to me." Halien raised his nose, flicking his hair out of his face.
At his words, Romeo growled possessively, nose flaring at the thought of his angel sharing anything like they had with anyone else. His hands clenched the bars in front of him, teeth bared. "You will do no such thing. Not if I am still here."
Halien smirked, although Romeo couldn't see it. "Not unless the guards come to catch you, hm?" He knew probably that the threat was an empty one. Although he was a Malfoy, he didn't want him dead, which was what Romeo would be if the guards, no if his father caught Romeo outside his son's balcony, wooing him to his heart's content. He wasn't so cruel as to wish that on even his most unruly, and hated enemy, which low and behold happened to be right in front of him. Oh, the irony! "I suggest you leave, before I have sudden inspiration to make your life...difficult."
The fear that had been inspired by his angel's words slipped away. Romeo knew that he was in no harm's way. If the subtle tilt of his angel's head and the flash of eyes to Romeo's reflection were any indication. His mind rapidly flicked through ideas, techniques he could use, to bring Halien to his side. He had never had this problem before, masterfully wooing any woman of his stature or higher with a few well placed touches and words, the implications of promises that may or may not be kept. He was promiscuous in his own right, but he was also doting and passionate. Lively and deep, two things any woman would be grateful for.
He closed his eyes. Maybe that was the problem. His angel wasn't a woman, but a boy. A young boy at that, compared to his own nineteen years. A different approach was needed. His lips curved into a smile; the catch would be worth the chase.
"Alright then, as you will it," Romeo said simply, climbing back down the balcony, "Angel."
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