Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine.
Savage Love
Prologue
Shadows flanked the London streets, growing ever blacker as they curved into the mouth of Knockturn Alley. The occasional streetlamp shed pale light on the pavement, though it only increased the foreboding feel of the night.
Even in the darkness, Knockturn Alley swelled with sinister life. Rowdy melodies resonated from dusky bars, drunks staggered from alley to alley, and hookers leaned against lampposts displaying their goods. Werewolves, vampires, and various other undead creatures lurked in the shade, their hour for play having finally arrived.
In the center of the street, silhouetted by moonlight, two forms emerged from the foggy shadows. One was a man in his early forties, the other a boy of his late teens. Both wore heavy black robes and staggered with drunken arrogance, carrying lit cigarettes and taking long drags from time to time. Both had shocking white-blond hair and shared the same aristocratic jaw-lines and jutting chins. One, however, possessed a brooding air that mirrored the night sky, while the other was smugly talkative.
"Draco, my boy, this is what it's all about." His eyes sparkled darkly. "You saw it tonight at the revel--the women, the drinks, the power. Look at us, son! Right now, you and I are the most powerful beings on the street--two wolves prowling around our very own kingdom. Can't you see what you're capable of, what you could amount to?" He gestured wildly with intoxicated pride. "All this could be yours--ours--if you would only give it a chance."
Draco Malfoy said nothing, worry creasing his smooth brow and darkening his nearly angelic complexion. His father was a fool--a man far past his prime who still felt he could revert back to his glory days with just a bit more power. He was a lunatic--Draco knew this, even while he respected the man who had raised him and molded his views into the ones they were today. Lucius just didn't realize that life wasn't as black and white as he'd like to believe. Shades of grey existed in everything.
Draco glanced side-long at his father, a man with the cruelest smile he had ever seen--one that was now curled menacingly with the prospect of power. "Isn't it time to apparate home?" he asked hopefully.
"Home?" Lucius asked, snorting. The act threw himself off balance so that he staggered against a lamppost. "On a night like this? We have the whole world at our fingertips, and you want to go home?"
"That's just the Fire Whisky talking, father," he mumbled, tossing the cigarette to the ground. "You and I don't have the power you'd like to believe."
"Wrong! Son, your dilemma is that you lack pride for what we do. You think I don't know? I watched you tonight." He stopped walking and turned to face Draco. "Don't look so surprised. I wanted to test how you would react and what did I see? I saw you drinking alone in a dark corner. Macnair told me he tried to strike up a conversation with you and you brushed him off! With all the muggles the Dark Lord brought, specially for tonight's festivities! With all the lovely girls that you could have--"
"They were whores, father. Not real girls. Certainly nothing that would tempt me." He jammed his cold hands in his pockets.
All traces of playfulness were gone from Lucius' eyes. "They tempted the Dark Lord, Draco. They were good enough for him. I think it's high time you realize that anything good enough for him is more than adequate for you."
Draco said nothing. The truth was that he tried, desperately, to enjoy himself tonight. He couldn't help feeling as if something was wrong with him, for not being able to take pleasure in the festivities the Dark Lord had placed before them. The prospect of dismembering muggles held little appeal, and the idea of cozying up with a whore held just as less.
The truth was that Draco was a virgin--yes, the rumors circulating Hogwarts of his sexual prowess were falsified. And he didn't want his first time to be with a girl who had no real feelings for him. Though he tried to hide it behind snide remarks and glares, he was a bit of a romantic at heart.
That last thought caused Draco to snort contemptuously. He was the son of the most hated Death Eater alive and was close in line to being second, and he called himself a romantic? Boy, was he sloshed.
The dark mark burned into his vision day and night--a constant reminder of who he had become and what he was capable of. And yet, deep down, Draco knew that he was a coward. A softie. A little bleeding-heart sucker. The Death Eaters were becoming concerned--he didn't enjoy torturing or whoring, and he certainly didn't have the fiery passion that his father shared. The Dark Lord had forgiven his inability to murder Dumbledore--mainly because he had never expected Draco to have the courage to carry out the deed in the first place. However, other Death Eaters had begun to talk. Did Draco deserve to be one of them? With each meeting, the rumors grew even more persistent, to the point where it was clear now to Draco that even his father was becoming concerned. Lucius wanted to harden his son--make him into more of a man--but Draco knew that no matter how hard his father tried, Draco could never be a true Death Eater. He was too much of a damned coward.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't our lucky day."
Draco looked up from his reverie to find his father perched on the pavement, thin blond hair waterfalled over something. "This is just perfect. Perfect," he muttered. He turned to Draco, a sinister grin on his face. "You like 'real' girls? I've got one right here." Lucius cast his wand over a spot on the ground, so that Draco could see the body of someone on the side of the road. Her eyes were shut closed--from either sleep or death--and the most delicate of curls was strewn over her pale forehead--a curl colored blood-red in the half-light.
"Weasley?" He whispered, astonished. The girl lay on her back and the pavement was wet--he wasn't sure if it was blood she lay in or some other substance.
"Yes," Lucius answered, looking at her hungrily. "Poor little girl must have gotten in a scuffle--and someone was foolish enough to leave her here for us! Don't worry, little red," he purred. "The big bad wolves won't bite you...too hard"
"Father," Draco breathed, drawing his wand. "She could be hurt--"
"Since when did you bloody care about the welfare of the Weasleys?"
"I--I don't," Draco muttered, chastised. He reluctantly slipped his wand back into his pocket, his eyes never leaving the girl.
"That's my boy," Lucius said, grabbing the girl by the waist and lifting her up like a pile of sticks. "She's still warm--must still be alive, which means all the more fun for us. Now give me a hand getting her back to the mansion--I doubt I can apparate her by myself after that whisky"
As Draco carefully placed his hand under her head to support her, ready to apparate Ginny Weasley back to his home for a night of whatever nauseating games Lucius felt like playing, a little voice affirmed what he had known all long. He truly was a coward
To be continued...
A/N: Please R E V I E W