I held him in a way that could best be described as tender. Many people
would scoff at that. I'm supposed to be incapable of showing any
tenderness. Emotions should have no place here. Not in my dungeons.
Saving for the usual anger and cold indifference I show my students. A bunch of incompetent dunderheads. How I despise having to see them in day to day life as they foul their way through potions, bringing me a headache and a deep desire to strangle the whole lot of them.
But right now, they don't exist. Right now, nothing exists but you and I. Here in the darkness where eyes can't see us. There's no Voldemort or Dumbledore. There is no one in our way, no one to judge what we are doing.
You lay next to me, your eyes closed. It was a long night for both of us, you're allowed your peace for right now. And I'm here. I'm here to watch over you and to make sure the darkness remains intact.
I sit up in the bed, being careful not to rustle the sheets too much in fear of disturbing you. You've always been a light sleeper. The covers spill down from me, giving me a nice look at my naked torso. Scars stretch out against my skin. I don't mind them. Symbols of the past, symbols I don't really care about.
You're unmarked. I should know. I've traced every inch of your body with my eyes, my hands, my lips. I know your body as I know my own.
And you know my body as well. You've never been a stranger to it. Even in our Hogwarts days there had always been some sort of attraction. I'm not blind now. I was then, however, when we were both victims of mutual lust and animalistic pleasures. They were carnal in nature and neither of us wished to acknowledge that part of us that wasn't blinded by this lust. Neither of us could admit to anything back then, but it was there.
The Death Eaters, Dumbledore, the war, the Aurors, Voldemort. They all existed to make our lives a bit more miserable, but even if they were not real, we would have made ourselves miserable on our own.
We're liars, you and I. We lie to everyone, to ourselves, to each other. We lie because we don't know the truth at times. We lie to cover ourselves up. I lie because the truth would hurt you. You lie to me because it is in your nature.
I suppose it's alright now. Everything has died down and life still finds a way to go on. And now here you are and here I am.
I wish you would wake up even though I know you need your rest. You normally hate to sleep so I won't begrudge you this just as you wouldn't begrudge me my feelings.
How well do you know me, Lucius? How well can you see into me? Do you know of my own hidden talents? What do you see when you see me? What am I to you?
I would say I'm just another Death Eater, one who will follow orders, listen, and carry out some of the most vile deeds without a shred of compassion or remorse.
Would you call me that, Lucius? Would you think that of me? Do you see me that way? There were times when I knew you had to think that, I didn't allow you to think otherwise.
You and I should be enemies. The traitorous spy and the loyal Death Eater. We both had our own motivations. We both had our own ways out.
We both had our excuses and reasons for doing what he did. And because of this, we took separate roads, but we always went them together. Strange how that sounds hearing it in those terms. Even when I spied, I stayed silent about you, putting you down for lesser charges. I could have gotten you executed just as surely as you could have told Voldemort about me.
You never spoke a word against me. Why is that? You knew, surely you had to know. You're sometimes too perceptive for your own good. You of so many words had none to say when it came to me.
I would be angered because of this. I would curse your very name for your silence. I would hate you for holding your tongue. Why? Because I owed you nothing. Nothing until I found out you had kept my secret of turning spy.
But I don't curse you. I can't. Not when you're laying right beside me, looking so at peace. My hand reaches out, tracing the bone structure of your face. You breathe and it tickles the skin on my hand. I feel goosebumps.
You make me feel alive, Lucius. You make me feel real.
And yet, you make me feel as though I am not myself, that everything is just an illusion around me.
You are unblemished while I am marked. The only abnormality on your skin is the accursed Dark Mark which has faded over the years. Voldemort is still out there but he knows not to call you now.
He gives us these few moments of peace, I think. I did not go back to him because of many reasons, Lucius. There are reasons I cannot begin to explain, but I will tell them to you now, as you slumber.
At least you'll be silent as I speak and not the other way around.
I left him because I needed to get away, because I saw what he was doing to the others, because I had nothing left. I went to him for selfish reasons and I left after everything was said and done. It wasn't until later when I found out the other reasons, because of what he was doing to you was one of them.
I watched you, Lucius. I watched you in our school years. I saw you change gradually. You became less like yourself and more like what he wanted you to be. You became someone else.
And I hated it. I hated the growing emptiness within you. I hated the coldness you were emanating. You are the fire to my ice. I would not see you burn yourself out as I had done.
So I made this world yours again. I took you out of that environment against your will and I do not regret it. Not at all. You hated me for it for a time. You despised me because you were not able to neither see nor fully understand why I had done what I did. I knew if I left you alone, you would gradually come to understand. You would see what I had done and why.
But I could not give you that time, Lucius. I could not let you alone. I lost track of how many owls I had sent to your manor. They all returned unopened. I placed a part of my soul into each of those letters to you and you sent them right on back without thought. A complete dismissal.
I hated what you were doing to me but I could not stop myself. I could not end this yearning for your forgiveness, for your understanding. I hated you, Lucius. I hated you then.
When your son came to Hogwarts I was reminded of your wedding to that self- absorbed bitch. Young Draco was the byproduct of the consummation of yours and Narcissa's love. I hated her. I hated what she was doing to you. I was so willing to place all the blame on her.
And then you came back.
After Voldemort had risen again, you came back to me and you were terrified. Shaking. I couldn't get out the full story from you, nor did I want to. I wonder if you remember that day. Probably not since my first reaction was to give you shot after shot of firewhiskey. Can you blame me? I hate seeing you less than yourself. You have a tendency to make someone nervous by acting nervous yourself.
Do you remember how I held you that night? How I brushed your hair back and whispered tender phrases to you, saying that it would be alright? Do you remember how I touched you? How we touched each other? Do you remember what was said?
I ask you because I remember. I remember that entire night in vivid detail. It wasn't about what brought you back to me. It wasn't about the past. It was only about you and I and how we were together once again. The animal lust was gone and whatever had taken its place had taken over.
Were you afraid of it? I know I was. At first, I hated it and I pushed you away for it. It is not in my nature to love, I learned.
But then I realized that you are my nature. I cannot love but I can adore. I can like. I can respect. I can covet. And I can have.
You are the same in that respect. We tell each other we love, but do we mean it? Did you?
I touch your hair. It's longer than my own and out of it usual holder. There are no tangles even though you've slept on it for awhile. The strand falls from my hand like water.
You are lovely. I've lost track on how many times I have admired you. You are my ethereal beauty, something I have touched, caressed, cut into. I enjoy hurting you not because it makes you look more human when you bleed, but because I keep expecting the blood to shine as much as you do. Fanciful thoughts, really. I am trying to romanticize the screams you make when I cut too deeply, the delicate arch of your back as a knife digs into your skin, the hand that covers my own when my nails dig into you.
Each sensation brings a new response and I long to seek out each and every reaction to yourself that I can find. You make me complete. Even more so when you turn the tables and bite into me. You like seeing me bleed, don't you? I like bleeding for you.
I kneel down beside you. You're on your back. You're beautiful. I kiss down your chest. Such liberties I dare to take right now. I don't want to wake you but I don't want to leave you alone. You constantly make me wage a battle within myself. I need you. I hate you. I love you. I want you. I want to hurt you, kill you, rape you. I want you, Lucius.
Do you want me? Even after all this time, do you still crave for me as I crave for you?
It has been a long day for both of us. You're not used to such hassles. That's alright. I'm used to them. I'll take the stress for the both of us.
I wonder if you can hear me talking to you. I wonder if you're dreaming right now and you can hear my voice within those dreams.
My hand goes down further, brushing the silk robe that you sleep in. It was my robe, actually. I loaned it to you and you, being your typical arrogant self, kept it. I think it likes you if nightgowns could like anyone. It caresses your body in silky streams just as my hands are now doing to you. I touch your length, contemplating on waking you and taking you in the early morning hours.
I doubt you would mind. My lips touch your shoulder, the same one I had bitten before. In another few hours I would be back in the classroom, teaching potions to a bunch of idiots. But I still have time to see you, to feel you.
Can you feel me? I know you enjoy my touch. You wouldn't cry out so loudly if you didn't. I release my hand from you and I could swear I hear you sigh.
I heard you sigh before.
I heard you say my name and sigh. You did that so recently.
It has been a long night. And now it will be an even longer morning.
I need a shower. Perhaps the running water will wake you up. It is such a pity to take myself out of this bed and away from you. You're warm, Lucius. You're the fire to my ice even still.
I disentangle myself from the sheets and go to the adjoining bathroom. The water runs lukewarm but it's scalding when compared to the chill of the dungeons. Yet, freezing when compared to you. Even when I'm not with you, you still pollute my thoughts, threatening to take over.
I see you going back to Voldemort. You joined me as a spy and traitor during the second war. You became one of my contacts and each meeting left me with a feeling of nervousness that you had been found out.
But Voldemort never knew.
Not until Dumbledore discovered there was a spy in our division. And suddenly, Voldemort knew all.
But it was Voldemort's love that brought about everything. He would not strike out against you, Lucius. He would not dare believe you to be a traitor to him. Like you are my weakness, so are you his own.
But the Aurors thought differently. They claimed you as their traitor because you were the one Voldemort wouldn't dare to touch.
I argued during the day and we comforted each other during the night. We spent time talking about nothing then. We made love, we touched, we kissed, but mostly, we talked. And, surprisingly, I found myself doing most of the talking.
But all of that is over now. The real traitor was found and was sentenced tonight. We can breathe easier now.
I turn off the shower and that's when the silence hits me. There's no more water, not even a drip.
I put a towel around my waist after drying my body. I stop. I listen.
I hear you breathe.
And then I hear you sigh. You say my name and you sigh.
I knew you were innocent. They didn't. They wanted a scapegoat.
And suddenly, everything hits me. As I stand there in the doorway, staring at you, so tucked away under the covers, I remember the Dementor. The Kiss. You didn't struggle, you simply accepted it as is.
We fought that day, you and I. I don't remember what it was about. How can I remember the night you first came back to me and not remember the minor argument we had?
You were bound down magically and the Dementor was upon you. I witnessed it. I saw you die.
My mind is screaming and my heart is pounding as I cross that room and look at you. Really look at you.
And all I can think of is Voldemort.
This is how you looked before, Lucius. Your eyes are empty, devoid of everything, nothing left.
I cry out in the darkness as the truth hits me. I bash my hand against the wall as I curse the Aurors. Everything I have done has come to naught. And you, you, you just lay there, saying nothing. You can't say anything. Not anymore.
I would kill to hear your voice.
And then...I hear you sigh.
And you say my name.
And I know the truth. You haven't left. You haven't left me. I go back to the bed, I lay down beside you, gather you into my arms, lay a kiss on your temple. I whisper to you. I hold you like I did that night.
Do you love me still, Lucius?
In the silence of the morning hours, I know the truth. I know my lover. I know my Lucius. I know he loves me.
And now I have the courage to tell him that I love him too.
Saving for the usual anger and cold indifference I show my students. A bunch of incompetent dunderheads. How I despise having to see them in day to day life as they foul their way through potions, bringing me a headache and a deep desire to strangle the whole lot of them.
But right now, they don't exist. Right now, nothing exists but you and I. Here in the darkness where eyes can't see us. There's no Voldemort or Dumbledore. There is no one in our way, no one to judge what we are doing.
You lay next to me, your eyes closed. It was a long night for both of us, you're allowed your peace for right now. And I'm here. I'm here to watch over you and to make sure the darkness remains intact.
I sit up in the bed, being careful not to rustle the sheets too much in fear of disturbing you. You've always been a light sleeper. The covers spill down from me, giving me a nice look at my naked torso. Scars stretch out against my skin. I don't mind them. Symbols of the past, symbols I don't really care about.
You're unmarked. I should know. I've traced every inch of your body with my eyes, my hands, my lips. I know your body as I know my own.
And you know my body as well. You've never been a stranger to it. Even in our Hogwarts days there had always been some sort of attraction. I'm not blind now. I was then, however, when we were both victims of mutual lust and animalistic pleasures. They were carnal in nature and neither of us wished to acknowledge that part of us that wasn't blinded by this lust. Neither of us could admit to anything back then, but it was there.
The Death Eaters, Dumbledore, the war, the Aurors, Voldemort. They all existed to make our lives a bit more miserable, but even if they were not real, we would have made ourselves miserable on our own.
We're liars, you and I. We lie to everyone, to ourselves, to each other. We lie because we don't know the truth at times. We lie to cover ourselves up. I lie because the truth would hurt you. You lie to me because it is in your nature.
I suppose it's alright now. Everything has died down and life still finds a way to go on. And now here you are and here I am.
I wish you would wake up even though I know you need your rest. You normally hate to sleep so I won't begrudge you this just as you wouldn't begrudge me my feelings.
How well do you know me, Lucius? How well can you see into me? Do you know of my own hidden talents? What do you see when you see me? What am I to you?
I would say I'm just another Death Eater, one who will follow orders, listen, and carry out some of the most vile deeds without a shred of compassion or remorse.
Would you call me that, Lucius? Would you think that of me? Do you see me that way? There were times when I knew you had to think that, I didn't allow you to think otherwise.
You and I should be enemies. The traitorous spy and the loyal Death Eater. We both had our own motivations. We both had our own ways out.
We both had our excuses and reasons for doing what he did. And because of this, we took separate roads, but we always went them together. Strange how that sounds hearing it in those terms. Even when I spied, I stayed silent about you, putting you down for lesser charges. I could have gotten you executed just as surely as you could have told Voldemort about me.
You never spoke a word against me. Why is that? You knew, surely you had to know. You're sometimes too perceptive for your own good. You of so many words had none to say when it came to me.
I would be angered because of this. I would curse your very name for your silence. I would hate you for holding your tongue. Why? Because I owed you nothing. Nothing until I found out you had kept my secret of turning spy.
But I don't curse you. I can't. Not when you're laying right beside me, looking so at peace. My hand reaches out, tracing the bone structure of your face. You breathe and it tickles the skin on my hand. I feel goosebumps.
You make me feel alive, Lucius. You make me feel real.
And yet, you make me feel as though I am not myself, that everything is just an illusion around me.
You are unblemished while I am marked. The only abnormality on your skin is the accursed Dark Mark which has faded over the years. Voldemort is still out there but he knows not to call you now.
He gives us these few moments of peace, I think. I did not go back to him because of many reasons, Lucius. There are reasons I cannot begin to explain, but I will tell them to you now, as you slumber.
At least you'll be silent as I speak and not the other way around.
I left him because I needed to get away, because I saw what he was doing to the others, because I had nothing left. I went to him for selfish reasons and I left after everything was said and done. It wasn't until later when I found out the other reasons, because of what he was doing to you was one of them.
I watched you, Lucius. I watched you in our school years. I saw you change gradually. You became less like yourself and more like what he wanted you to be. You became someone else.
And I hated it. I hated the growing emptiness within you. I hated the coldness you were emanating. You are the fire to my ice. I would not see you burn yourself out as I had done.
So I made this world yours again. I took you out of that environment against your will and I do not regret it. Not at all. You hated me for it for a time. You despised me because you were not able to neither see nor fully understand why I had done what I did. I knew if I left you alone, you would gradually come to understand. You would see what I had done and why.
But I could not give you that time, Lucius. I could not let you alone. I lost track of how many owls I had sent to your manor. They all returned unopened. I placed a part of my soul into each of those letters to you and you sent them right on back without thought. A complete dismissal.
I hated what you were doing to me but I could not stop myself. I could not end this yearning for your forgiveness, for your understanding. I hated you, Lucius. I hated you then.
When your son came to Hogwarts I was reminded of your wedding to that self- absorbed bitch. Young Draco was the byproduct of the consummation of yours and Narcissa's love. I hated her. I hated what she was doing to you. I was so willing to place all the blame on her.
And then you came back.
After Voldemort had risen again, you came back to me and you were terrified. Shaking. I couldn't get out the full story from you, nor did I want to. I wonder if you remember that day. Probably not since my first reaction was to give you shot after shot of firewhiskey. Can you blame me? I hate seeing you less than yourself. You have a tendency to make someone nervous by acting nervous yourself.
Do you remember how I held you that night? How I brushed your hair back and whispered tender phrases to you, saying that it would be alright? Do you remember how I touched you? How we touched each other? Do you remember what was said?
I ask you because I remember. I remember that entire night in vivid detail. It wasn't about what brought you back to me. It wasn't about the past. It was only about you and I and how we were together once again. The animal lust was gone and whatever had taken its place had taken over.
Were you afraid of it? I know I was. At first, I hated it and I pushed you away for it. It is not in my nature to love, I learned.
But then I realized that you are my nature. I cannot love but I can adore. I can like. I can respect. I can covet. And I can have.
You are the same in that respect. We tell each other we love, but do we mean it? Did you?
I touch your hair. It's longer than my own and out of it usual holder. There are no tangles even though you've slept on it for awhile. The strand falls from my hand like water.
You are lovely. I've lost track on how many times I have admired you. You are my ethereal beauty, something I have touched, caressed, cut into. I enjoy hurting you not because it makes you look more human when you bleed, but because I keep expecting the blood to shine as much as you do. Fanciful thoughts, really. I am trying to romanticize the screams you make when I cut too deeply, the delicate arch of your back as a knife digs into your skin, the hand that covers my own when my nails dig into you.
Each sensation brings a new response and I long to seek out each and every reaction to yourself that I can find. You make me complete. Even more so when you turn the tables and bite into me. You like seeing me bleed, don't you? I like bleeding for you.
I kneel down beside you. You're on your back. You're beautiful. I kiss down your chest. Such liberties I dare to take right now. I don't want to wake you but I don't want to leave you alone. You constantly make me wage a battle within myself. I need you. I hate you. I love you. I want you. I want to hurt you, kill you, rape you. I want you, Lucius.
Do you want me? Even after all this time, do you still crave for me as I crave for you?
It has been a long day for both of us. You're not used to such hassles. That's alright. I'm used to them. I'll take the stress for the both of us.
I wonder if you can hear me talking to you. I wonder if you're dreaming right now and you can hear my voice within those dreams.
My hand goes down further, brushing the silk robe that you sleep in. It was my robe, actually. I loaned it to you and you, being your typical arrogant self, kept it. I think it likes you if nightgowns could like anyone. It caresses your body in silky streams just as my hands are now doing to you. I touch your length, contemplating on waking you and taking you in the early morning hours.
I doubt you would mind. My lips touch your shoulder, the same one I had bitten before. In another few hours I would be back in the classroom, teaching potions to a bunch of idiots. But I still have time to see you, to feel you.
Can you feel me? I know you enjoy my touch. You wouldn't cry out so loudly if you didn't. I release my hand from you and I could swear I hear you sigh.
I heard you sigh before.
I heard you say my name and sigh. You did that so recently.
It has been a long night. And now it will be an even longer morning.
I need a shower. Perhaps the running water will wake you up. It is such a pity to take myself out of this bed and away from you. You're warm, Lucius. You're the fire to my ice even still.
I disentangle myself from the sheets and go to the adjoining bathroom. The water runs lukewarm but it's scalding when compared to the chill of the dungeons. Yet, freezing when compared to you. Even when I'm not with you, you still pollute my thoughts, threatening to take over.
I see you going back to Voldemort. You joined me as a spy and traitor during the second war. You became one of my contacts and each meeting left me with a feeling of nervousness that you had been found out.
But Voldemort never knew.
Not until Dumbledore discovered there was a spy in our division. And suddenly, Voldemort knew all.
But it was Voldemort's love that brought about everything. He would not strike out against you, Lucius. He would not dare believe you to be a traitor to him. Like you are my weakness, so are you his own.
But the Aurors thought differently. They claimed you as their traitor because you were the one Voldemort wouldn't dare to touch.
I argued during the day and we comforted each other during the night. We spent time talking about nothing then. We made love, we touched, we kissed, but mostly, we talked. And, surprisingly, I found myself doing most of the talking.
But all of that is over now. The real traitor was found and was sentenced tonight. We can breathe easier now.
I turn off the shower and that's when the silence hits me. There's no more water, not even a drip.
I put a towel around my waist after drying my body. I stop. I listen.
I hear you breathe.
And then I hear you sigh. You say my name and you sigh.
I knew you were innocent. They didn't. They wanted a scapegoat.
And suddenly, everything hits me. As I stand there in the doorway, staring at you, so tucked away under the covers, I remember the Dementor. The Kiss. You didn't struggle, you simply accepted it as is.
We fought that day, you and I. I don't remember what it was about. How can I remember the night you first came back to me and not remember the minor argument we had?
You were bound down magically and the Dementor was upon you. I witnessed it. I saw you die.
My mind is screaming and my heart is pounding as I cross that room and look at you. Really look at you.
And all I can think of is Voldemort.
This is how you looked before, Lucius. Your eyes are empty, devoid of everything, nothing left.
I cry out in the darkness as the truth hits me. I bash my hand against the wall as I curse the Aurors. Everything I have done has come to naught. And you, you, you just lay there, saying nothing. You can't say anything. Not anymore.
I would kill to hear your voice.
And then...I hear you sigh.
And you say my name.
And I know the truth. You haven't left. You haven't left me. I go back to the bed, I lay down beside you, gather you into my arms, lay a kiss on your temple. I whisper to you. I hold you like I did that night.
Do you love me still, Lucius?
In the silence of the morning hours, I know the truth. I know my lover. I know my Lucius. I know he loves me.
And now I have the courage to tell him that I love him too.