A one-shot of the Cruel and Unusual Pairings challenge on xoxLewrahxox's forum, inspired by a discussion in the "Shipping Meme" thread.
Dedicated to darling Elizabeth, who is going to "love me forever" since I've done this... thing: Malfoy/Crabbe/Goyle. I'll hold you to that one, dearie.
Cruel and Unusual Pairings
There are some strange pairings out there, and then there are some which can only be described as "cruel and unusual." Squiddledore. Winky/Mr. Courch. Bloody Baron/Peeves. Your challenge is to write one of these cruel and unusual pairings, and to write it as seriously as you can.
He strode into the deserted common room with his head held high and his Prefect badge shining on the front of his robes, tall, arrogant and dashing. Draco Malfoy found but an audience he was thoroughly used to, and rather disregarded, to be entirely truthful. Yet he was also feeling quite restless, and after all, they were there to be used for his pleasure, entertainment and convenience, indeed. The two faithful, mush-brained cronies. He smirked as he strode towards them and watched them watch him, nearly openly gaping at the sight, no matter how familiar.
Pathetic.
(Delightful.)
They looked up at him with something akin to worship in the feeble glint of their eye. It could have been worship, if only there had been a spark of intelligence to be found there, or a question, a tension, a meaning. As it was, he roused a senseless, nameless, unknown and gut-wrenching fascination from the very depths of their beings, something they did not, could not and would never understand. It wasn't to be understood. It was purely physical and almighty impulse, the sheer impossibility of taking their eyes off his slim, haughty silhouette.
They stared thoughtlessly.
(They longed to reach. To touch.)
It was a mystery to him, though to them it was but blunt fact. It was power, a taste of iron on his tongue that made his lungs tighten and his heart flutter. He held them in the palm of his hand, led them around like puppets on a string, limp, passive, like transfixed animals, snakes twisting numbly to a hypnotizer or beasts standing there, cold and ready to be slaughtered, empty-eyed. He took a deep, slightly hissing breath and thought fiercely that he was in control. But he could play as long as he liked, he could smirk and sneer and be cold and cruel, in the end he would lay himself in their hands, for the foreign thrill of giving in to numbness, to madness, to an abyss of silence in which time was lost, thoughts were oblivion, and stupidity became a riddle or an ever-pressing fact, a cage in which he could rest like he never had before.
Draco Malfoy leaned forward, and felt greedy hands grasp him tight, pull him closer. His clothes slowly slid to the floor and cold skin was laid bare, offered to tentative touches then twisted, tempestuous bouts of passion. Draco Malfoy sighed and let his eyelids flutter closed. He relinquished control – he fell from the throne, from the top of the world, down down down to the swirling pit of all emptiness. His mind fell silent. Surrounded and crushed by living skin, living warmth, he moaned quietly and for a few stolen moments, allowed himself to become mere sensation.