The candlelight held in him entrapped, its flickering movements mirroring in his blue eyes. The smirk was undeniable on his aristocratic features, as his hand flickered through the flame. Again, he let his skin be passed through the dancing colors, and again, each time, his eyes grew colder, while his body seemed to heat up. Finally he placed his hand in the flame completely, letting his pale skin be singed. For moments, he felt nothing. Then, a sting or to amongst his nerves, until finally his teeth were bared against the onslaught. It took three minutes, and a severe burn until he pulled away with a gasp. He, himself did not know if it was from the pain or the pleasure. His movements were fluid as he pulled out his wand, a carefully repaired the damage, that same, pale undamaged skin facing him again. Just as it should be. He returned his attention to the candle, which seemed to be smiling at him. They were brothers, the flame and the man. Their natures were the same, their falsities of hope and approval a mask for the consuming desire to maim and control. He and the flame were born of the same entity, meant to be in this world, to counter weight the balance.

He hated being cold.

Furiously, he swung his wand in a slashing arc and all candles were lit in a blaze of power. The illumination hurt his eyes, but he adjusted with little problem. The shadows leapt amongst his handsome face, the curves and the lines, highlighting and deepening lovingly. There was nothing that could not compliment his face, or his body. His poise was perfect, elegant, consuming, and dangerous. The aura he conducted spoke for itself, and rarely any one decided to approach him. It had always been this way, since he was a boy standing stolidly next to his father. He practiced it with ease, because it was a Malfoy nature to do so.

The knock on the door made him agitated. It did not show, nor would it ever, except in his eyes, where they flashed and brightened with emotion. It could be controlled if he saw the occasion fit, but he was a wizard, and he liked to remember that. Powerful. But a wizard all the same. "Yes?" he drawled, turning away from whoever may enter to the piano, letting his long fingers graze upon its smooth surface with care. He heard the door open, then close, and immediately sensed the person in the room. It was a woman, which was apparent by the sent. Her footsteps were light, feathery, and she weighed very little, but had strength. She preferred leather shoes, and leaned on her right. He breathed in, and found he really enjoyed that perfume she wore, as it would be something he would choose for a woman. It was enticing, yet not sultry. Mysterious almost. He loved it, and was content jus to breathe it in.

"Is that how you greet everyone, or just me?" Immediately, he stiffened. It wasn't noticeable except to a few, but he did. His muscles tightened, and his eyes narrowed at a particular candle, as if it was the cause of all of this.

"I greet those to accordance of who they are. How ever did you manage to even be in this manor?"

"You of all people should know the wonders of a polyjuice potion Lucius Malfoy." He smirked then, smug and completely full of arrogance well deserved.

"Yes, I do as you too remember Lillian Potter. I have spells against such frivolous tricks."

"Did you forget the excelled level of my potions performance or are you being insulting?"

"You choose," he drawled and turned with one last glare at the vivid red candle he had been facing, slowly faced the woman who had entered. He was not disappointed with the sight. She was a coral cream colored bodice appealing blouse, black formal pants, and sensible shoes. Her flames of silk loose against her pale shoulders, pooling in waves of color and movement. She had no jewelry, no decoration of any kind on her face and Lucius was unashamed as he stared. It was his right after all.

"I'll just pretend I never heard your last remark, as so we don't argue. That's not what a came here for."

"Oh? What did you visit me at these late hours for maîtresse?" His spine tingled in pleasure as those delicious green eyes sharpened.

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

"My, why ever shall I not? I firmly believe in speaking the truth my dear." Her laugh was full of sardonic humor, as he knew it would be, and was pleased. She was so predictable sometimes. Still, he quite liked the way her voice sounded through his chambers. As he had enjoyed before in previous encounters, he savored it, capturing it and storing it in a room deep in his memory. "Why did you come here maîtresse, if not to argue hm?" He took a step forward and his eyes gleamed in male haughtiness as she took a step back, hands shooting out behind her to steady herself against the door. "If not to converse in biting words and rather harsh and rude comments as we always seem to prefer it, why did you find it necessary to brew an obviously tedious potion to just by-pass my security and gather my attention?" He had been advancing slowly while he spoke, enough to warn her, but not to cause her to run. He was positive she would not run from him, because she was entranced, as he found himself. "There must be something rather important, for if I remember correctly, the last time we spoke, you promised never to be in my presence again, and if so you were to…what was it? Curse me to the Muggle Hell and back I believe. To be honest, that one captured my attention completely," he drawled, and smirked yet again when she scowled. He had completely advanced upon her now, inches from her body. Reaching up, he slowly removed a small strand of hair from her face, taking his time, letting the silk slip and twirl through his fingers as he forced their eyes to lock. He received his desired effect instantly, and he could almost feel her tremors against him. "If you did not come here to argue," He whispered gently, "I am assuming there is a better reason why you are wearing the perfume I bought you for your birthday last week." He laughed when she shoved him away with all her force and he raised his hands in the air in mock denial.

"Go to Hell Malfoy!"

"I preferred it darling." He could feel the excitement building inside him as her fists clenched in anger, her eyes blazing almost as brightly as her delicious hair, and he itched for her to draw out her wand. He could sense it. She wanted to curse him, she wanted to cause him pain, and Dear Merlin, he dared her to do it. "Please, Lilly, my maîtresse, please. Let me apologize." He smoothly took a seat at the piano bench, smiling as she watched him with sharp eyes. Breathing evenly, always looking at her and penetrating her eyes, Lucius began to play. The sharp intake of her breath did not go unnoticed by him, even as the notes began to consume the air. Pleased, he played longer, his graceful fingers flying across the keys in a wicked dance, one that he noticed and enraptured Lilly. He swayed with his music because it pleased her for him to do so, making her all the more aware of his presence. Slowly, he watched her body relax again and drift over to his arm chain a few feet resting from his bed. She melted, he noticed, completely melted as the music took her, liquefied into his chair, her eyes drifting, and a pleasant smile on her lips. Lucius allowed his smile, one completely wicked in desire and intentions to show as she closed her eyes and played a sharper note, more daring than the previous. It captured her attention quickly, and Lucius laughed quietly. It was heard, as he meant it to be, and the spell was broken. She sat up straight as possible, with hard eyes that he simply did not ever want to look away from. Her eyes were so expressive, and not by choice as he did. Her eyes were truly windows for him, to read her and play the notes she flashed. Letting the music slowly die away into the still air once more, he bowed slightly. "There my dear. I am sorry."

"Hm…" this time, it was his turn to scowl, but he hid it firmly under an unexpressive mask.

"Did you not like it?"

"No, Lucius, I loved it," she exclaimed, perhaps faster than she had wished, and she noticed it. Lucius smiled in triumph.

"Perfect. Then what I written will not go to waste."

"You…you wrote that…for me?" Her hand went to her throat as it always did when shocked or nervous, and it was a gesture Lucius found fascinating, perhaps because he was in turn enthralled with her neck.

"I did. I hoped you would approve."

"Of course Lucius, of course I do. It was…lovely." He arched his eye brow, and his voice remained nonchalant.

"Yes, I suppose it was."Suddenly, he noticed something it seems his mind omitted from his conscious gaze, for it was not something his normally sharp gaze would miss. There was a ring on her left hand, on the finger next to her pinky. He stood, energy coiled in his body, tension screaming in his eyes. Lilly, usually unable to read his expressionless voice and eyes, saw something flash before it was buried. He was next to her in less than mere seconds, and his speed frightened her. She went to stand up, but his presence was suddenly there, and dominating. If she dared try to stand there would be no space between them. A situation she did not even try to put her self in. "What," he said softly, something she knew to be more dangerous than his voice raised "is this?" He took her hand and there was no resistance, which reminded him how clever she really was. He watched her close her eyes and swallow, gathering her voice and arguments of reason. He waited patiently, the predator in him suddenly uncoiling with a snarl.

"It is a ring Lucius."

"I see that Lillian. Before you take me as daft, however, I would hardly call something this small and dismal a ring. It seems to be more like a stray piece of tin wrapped around your delicate finger." He let her hand go as she yanked away. Her gaze was utter defiance as she looked up at him.

"If you do not want me to take you daft, then I hope you recognize it for what it is. It is a ring, Lucius, given to me by my fiancé and future husband." The word echoed in his head with painful clarity, and the snarl that was growing in his head escaped into his voice. He turned sharply on his heel and walked mere feet from her, not wanting her to escape but not trusting himself to go any closer. "That…is what I came here to tell you Lucius. I'm getting married, in the spring." Lucius did not turn around. "Look…I came here, and for that you should be happy. I could have never seen you again, ignored you completely, and moved on with my life. But I came back!" Lucius smiled viciously and let her see it. She remained solid where she stood, but Lucius was an expert at reading people, and he knew his Lilly better than ever.

"Yes…you came back. That alone is a matter I find highly amusing and open for questioning, but before we get into that, I believe we should address the man you are promising yourself to. I do believe I have a right to know, do I not?" Lilly shrunk a little, and Lucius saw the signs. Her head tilted downwards, perhaps and inch, or even less, her eyes dulled slightly, and her weight shifted to her left foot, her less dominate and more uncomfortable. Perfect. She was nervous, apprehensive about telling him, and it suddenly made him angrier. "Who is it Lillian?" he demanded.

"I shouldn't have to tell you Lucius. It is none of your business, not anymore," she murmured, and cast her eyes aside. Lucius stepped to her again, and she would have been an idiot to move away. Yet, she was not, so se remained there. He calmly took her head in his hand, and gently forced her to look at him. Snarl barely contained on his lips, he said, "Do not make me ask again. Who is to be your husband?" She searched his eyes, trying to read anything in them, and was not surprised when she received nothing. She feared that would change when the name held on her tongue escaped.

"It…it is James. James Potter."Lucius's expression did not change in front of her. His body didn't tighten and his breath remained even. Lilly looked closer, and saw his jaw clench. Oh…what had she done?

"Potter," he whispered, and a soft, dark smile appeared on his lips.

"Yes," she confirmed sternly. "I am marrying James Potter. I…" suddenly the hand on her jaw gripped harshly, enough to cause her to cry out in shock and pain. Lucius enjoyed it, perhaps more than the perfume.

"If you dare," he said in that same whisper, "dare say what I know you were planning to say, I will hurt you Lillian. Do you understand me? I. Will. Hurt. You." He tilted her gaze up more to him, to make sure she saw his promise reflected in his eyes. He almost smiled when her own eyes hardened to the warrior he had become so intensely fond of.

"I am going to marry James Potter," she gritted through her clenched jaw, "and I am in love with him." There was no warning, no time to register a change, and Lilly knew it would be that way. One minute she was staring at his cold smile, the next, flying across the room in a blur of color and sensation. Lucius had thrown her away from him with as much bodily force as he could muster, and was immensely glad for his years of perfecting his physique. He watched her fly away from him in a tumble of limbs and hair and he watched like a child fascinated with his project. When she managed to get up, her face was red from fluster and her eyes were blatantly pissed off. Her wand whipped out form nowhere and Lucius laughed, so eager for their dance to begin. "STUPEFY!" she screamed and Lucius easily counter-cursed, though he had always enjoyed how powerful Lillian could become when upset.

"Protgeo," he shot out with a snap, his blood boiling with excitement. Oh, this is what he had been waiting for. It was what they did, they were made for this dance…Lucius blinked as they shouted back and forth, and the knowledge that she was leaving him, Lucius Malfoy, brought whatever excitement he had into a cold blur of pure rage.

"CRUCIO!" he bellowed, his fury spiraling out of his body into the wand he held in his hand, letting it all spill into the curse his soul reflected as he imagined her in another mans arms. His property, his maîtresse, his Lillian being caressed, being stroked, kissed…he intensified the curse with a snarl on his lips and a growl in the back of his throat. Suddenly, he pulled it off, content now that his rage was back under his control and she was still screaming. Smoothing his hair back, he quickly tied it into a black ribbon, a tradition he had picked up form his father last week. Placing his wand back in his cane, also an inheritance, he gave Lilly a critical eye until he was convinced it would not be needed the rest of the night. Slowly approaching her jittering, jerking body, he coolly picked up her wand and placed it across the room, on his study desk. Approaching her once more, he was pleased to see her recovering all ready, fighting her haze of pain and chaos. He expected nothing less, and would have been irate if it was otherwise. "Oh Lilly," he whispered, kneeling down besides her, gathering her in his arms, and received no fight. He knew he would not. Cradling her to his chest, he gently smoothed back her hair from her face, delighted that she was against him again. "Lilly, you know better. You know I cannot contain myself," he smirked as he continued smoothing her hair, "in fact, you always claimed that to be a trait you were fond of." Lilly, jerked once more, the last time as a final spasm coursed through her body. He held on, his eyes closed in ecstasy as she curled closer.

"I hate you," she murmured in his chest, and he groaned as her nails dug deeply into his back. He arched into it and groaned again as she increased the pressure. There would be marks in the morrow; he had no doubt about that. Excellent.

"I know. I hate you more," he growled, furious again. She was a Mudblood, something he refused to forget. She was below him, under him and his fellows, and he would never let it be otherwise. On occasion, he pretended what life would be like if she were a pure blood, what would have happened to them both. But he never let that world cross over to his conscious mind, and liked it that way.

"I don't care. I hate you. I hate you. I wish you were dead," she cursed through her breath, "you have no right Malfoy. None. There is nothing here between us. Nothing but hatred and you dare curse me for marrying a man who cares for me!" Viciously, he threw her on her back and mounted her, elevating his chest to rise over her.

"I have every right. I own you! You are mine Lillian, whether you accept it or not. You will always be mine," he snapped. She pushed against his chest in fight, but his curse had worn her down, and her energy to minimal.

"Go to Hell you bloody prick! I bloody hate you!" she screamed at him and Lucius smiled as her hand clasped onto his head and forced him to her lips. They slammed together in a dance of rage, tongue, lips, teeth and blood. This was no kiss, it was tearing each other apart and they both enjoyed it to no end. She ripped away first, a gasp in her voice and tears brimming in her green eyes. Lucius was smirking and casually licked the blood of his lips, with a deliberate enticement. "Merlin, what have I done?" she whispered.

"Oh maîtresse, oh Lilly," he smiled, "you have done nothing. You don't want to leave," he whispered as he kissed her neck, his teeth nipping and tongue darting along her veins. Her body arched slightly and Lucius rose to the occasion. "You want me Lillian, you want us. You want this." His hands slowly started unbuttoning her blouse.

"No," she moaned her head turning away, "No, don't. He loves me."

"I love you," he moaned in her ear, because she wanted to hear it. She needed to hear it form him, and she would stay because of it.

"No…"

"Yes Lillian. Yes. I do. I love you. I want you. There will be no one to replace me, for it is what you are trying to do. That's why accepted his proposal," he growled, "You want to get rid of me."

"I can't get you out of my head," she groaned, arching more to his touches, as he kept tediously unbuttoning her shirt, creamy skin being revealed inch by inch.

"Keep me there," he whispered, "why be rid of me Lillian, if it is me you want? I touch you like no other. Can he make you moan like I can? Does he even know where to begin to make you moan like I?" His tongue skillfully traced where her heart beat and bit the sensitive skin there, her weakness. The sound from her mouth made him groan in approval.

"Get out," she hissed viciously, gripping his shoulders, twining in with his hair and clawing at his shirt, "get out of my head you prick! I don't want you there." His eyes consumed her, she realized. There was the devil in his gaze, entrapment, and he was ripping her apart. She wanted to be rid of him; she never wanted to see Lucius again. She loved James, she really did. Then why couldn't he be gone!?

"No," he hissed back, "I will not. I will stay Lillian, because you are mine. I refuse to give up what is mine. I was always a," he bit her neck harshly and she cried out in pleasure, "selfish child my dear."

"God," she moaned, suddenly desperately wanting to get out of her clothes.

"Close, but not quite," he said playfully, finally reaching the last button on her blouse.

* * * *

He collapsed over her as her screams finally died, his body shuddering in spasms of pleasure. Lilly was gasping for air, wriggling and moaning as her orgasm lasted still. She noted briefly, that it had taken all night…all night long for him to finally give in. She had begged, moaned, and screamed every step of the way, his orders and his voice captivating her through the immense haze of pleasure he provided her every time they lay in the sheets. It took him until she finally completely surrendered, until he himself broke loose with his roar. And it was that. He yelled into her hair at the end, breathing her in as he let loose everything he had. Lucius rolled over and brought her with him, an arm skillfully hooking around her wait and laying her on top of his body. They were slick, cover in sweat, blood, and her tears, and Lucius would never have her any other way. "Say it," he murmured in her hair, his hand stroking her back and arms. He smiled as she buried herself in his own hair, smiled as a grown up would do to a refusing child. "You all ready said it quite loudly Lillian, all night. Might as well tell me again, or I will never let you go, and your precious fiancé might have to come and look for you. We would not want that would we?" She shot up and looked him in the eyes, straight into his smug, smirking face and arrogant eyes, and he let his pleasure show as her fear erupted on her skin.

"You promised Lucius. You promised you would leave me alone. Leave us alone after tonight. You promised." He arched a graceful eye brow at her, and reached over to the table at the bed side. Grabbing a discarded ring, he careful placed it on her finger, his kisses following after it. Locking her eyes, he let his tongue roam over every inch or metal and jewel until he was confident every time she looked at that ring, it would be him he thought of. He knew that she knew his intentions, and smiled.

"So I did. And I will. But, it is always best to be left of with," he swiped at her ring with his tongue again, "a little reminder, just for clarification of all."

"I have plenty of them Lucius," she remarked sarcastically, and he looked at her bruised and torn body with pride. Just imagining how she was going to explain all of that to Potter made him laugh. "It's not funny," she snapped. He only laughed louder, and Lily refused to let the vibrations in her chest be held as something to be enjoyed.

"Indeed. But those will only fade with time, something I am not pleased with. So, I want you to say it again. Say it like you mean it darling, or else we will have to start all of this over again." He smirked dangerously, and Lilly was shocked he had anything left, for she was utterly exhausted. Slowly, inching her way up his chest, her own marks etched into his flawless skin, she made sure they were inches apart.

"I," she whispered, "I am yours." Lucius searched her eyes for a moment, and smirked. The Malfoy smirk, Lilly noticed.

"Good. Good, mon petite maîtresse." He let it hang in the air for a moment; let it soak into his body and blood, and forever in his memory. "Now, sleep. You may leave in the morrow." She didn't need to be told twice. Minutes later, he felt her breathing relax and gain rhythm, and she was asleep. He stroked her hair slowly, looking at all of the candles he had lit hours ago. They were melt resistant, magically impossible to ever die unless he blew them out. Their flames danced in his eyes once more, off the deep red of her hair on his hand.

Their natures were the same, their falsities of hope and approval a mask for the consuming desire to maim and control. He and the flame were born of the same entity, meant to be in this world, to counter weight the balance.

"I hate being cold," he whispered. With a gleam, he looked to Lilly and smiled. Never would he be cold again.

Mine.