Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (Gee what a surprise, because I'm sure that the people at Warner Brothers often write fan fiction)
Warnings: Sex, NCS, violence, some language, all the good stuff, and fluff (just kidding!)
Chapter One
Warm water, slowing cooling to a tepid pool swallowed the thin pale body, wrapping it in empty warmth. Fred traced his thin fingers on the wet rim of the white basin, idly waiting for the empty warmth to be filled with the exiting touch of his twin's hands. The bathroom was small, but so was the entire apartment, their business was profitable, and Fred and George could easily afford a more grand home, but, from a combination of sentiment and laziness, they had remained in the cramp apartment they had first rented upon flying from the Hogwarts grounds.
Fred looked at the clock on the wall, watching as the seconds crawled by, melting into minutes, and then hours, as the warm water continued to cool; softly chilling his pale skin. He should be home by now. Fred thought constantly, sighing as the time passed, waiting for his twin. The water cooled to an unbearable temperature, and Fred slowly climbed out, shivering, his dripping red hair plastered to his neck and back.
Not bothering to dry off, he trudged into his bedroom, watery footprints tracing his path across the linoleum floor. He slowly lay in his bed, drawing the old patchwork quilt to his bare shivering body. His eyes lowered as if made of lead, he slowly drifted into a half hearted sleep, thinking all the while that George should be home.
"You will be working with a partner," Professor McGonagall explained, "to create a spell to transfigure a feather into a sculpture."
Harry and Ron glanced at each other, each silently claiming the other for his partner. Hermione rolled her eyes and surveyed the class looking for a partner. This was happing around the room, rapid glancing and nodding, until McGonagall spoke up.
"I will be selecting the partners." McGonagall spoke, answered by groans from her class, she read from her class roster, pairing students randomly.
"Listen Potter" Draco spat, "if we're going to be partners, there have to be some rules, one, we only talk when needed, two, I'm in charge, and three, you do the work."
"One," Harry glared, "I agree, two, no way in hell are you in charge, and three, if you think that I'm doing all the work while you sit around doing nothing, then you have another thing coming."
"Well Potter," Draco's eyes flared, "I guess we should plan sometime to get to work."
"I guess so." Harry forced.
"Wednesday at seven?" Draco asked.
"Sure." Harry reluctantly agreed, "Where?"
"Dungeon." Draco suggested, "Only place open."
"I'll meet you outside the dungeons then." Harry turned and left.
Fred tossed in his bed, his arm reaching over to where George's sleeping form slept each night. Each night except that night, Fred awoke as his arm hit the bed; his eyes fell to the empty place next to him. He climbed from his bed; he walked to the small fireplace on the wall. He threw a handful of green powder into it, muttering "George" and shoving his head in.
Fred's head entered the fireplace of a small empty room, almost empty. A scream pierced the empty room, tears rolled down Fred's cheek as he screamed, his eyes franticly resting on the bare twisted form of his pale twin. The pale chest barely rose and fell, a blood stained rib piercing the ivory skin, a pool of red streaked from George's gaping mouth.
Remus walked down the familiar street, passing the house, before turning and walking the other way, passing it again. He continued for over an hour, passing the house, turning and passing again. He contemplated walking up and knocking on the door, but he couldn't. The closest he made was the white fence.
Remus stared at the house. Remembering watching with fright as the haunting cloud hovered about the roof seventeen years previous, a tear rolled down his cheek as he eyed the house of his long deceased lover, and the lover's wife. Remus kicked the air thinking of Lily. He didn't love her; he cried to himself, he loved me, me, not Lily! He was going to tell her, but then Harry came along. He was going to leave her, to live with me, Sirius would help with Harry, but James would be with me!
Remus felt like hitting someone. He was tired of seventeen years of grieving. He wanted to let go, to forget, to move on, but whenever he tried, he would walk past the house, and he remembered every time he had slept with James. He hated how every minute of his day was spent thinking of how he knew it should have happened. He turned, walked back, and passed the house again.
It's my fault, Severus told himself as another fist contacted his jaw, I made him angry. Tom flung his fist again at Severus's face, knocking him to the ground, where he then preceded to thrust his foot into Severus's side, causing him to curl and cringe, tears falling from his clenched eyes.
"You buggering asshole!" Tom spat, his saliva, "Where do you get off saying that!"
"I'm sorry," Severus trembled, his voice wavering, "I wasn't thinking."
"No, you weren't!" Tom stamped the heel of his toe onto Severus's hand, grinning as he heard the bones crunch with a sickening crush. "Did you think I would like you telling my Death Eaters about us? Is that what you thought?"
"No!" Severus whimpered.
"No?" Tom sneered.
"No master." Severus relented.
"Never forget that my slave." Tom glared, revelling in the sight of the bloody form curled at his feet. Tom crouched, resting his fingers on Severus's neck, slowly piercing the pasty skin with his long fingernails, blood erupting from the wounds. Severus screamed, barely conscious as he felt Tom's snake tongue flitting over his neck wounds, sampling the blood.
"You're nothing," Tom whispered, "You're a worthless piece of shit. Don't you forget that, never ever forget that. If you step out of line again slave, I will kill you."
With Severus an inch from unconsciousness, Tom stopped, wanting the pain to remain. He slowly removed Severus's clothing, discarding it and leaving Severus bare and shivering, whimpering and crying. He traced his hands down the thin bruised chest, resting them for a moment between the thin legs. He clenched his hands, twisting and pulling as Severus howled in agony. Tom smiled, laughing at the near fatal pain that he was inflicting. Tom rose, sending his booted tow crashing into Severus's bare chest, leaving him breathless and alone, the rats in the dingy alley his only company for the cold harsh London Night.