Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
AN: Ah, loyal reviewers. How I love ye. Please continue to R&R my fic, as it is not worthy of such appreciation x) done now. Oh, and yes, a flashback will be on the way. Next chapter.
Chapter III
Such a dark night. A dark, cold night. Snow had fallen and left a glaze on the grounds. The castle had been sprinkled with the powder, and every window was black. Six o'clock had finally come, and so had the darkness of night.
Everyone in the Slytherin Dungeons had left for dinner by now. In fact, most everyone was in the Great Hall enjoying a warm meal and talking with their friends. Yes, that was the place to be now. Now that school had ended for that drawn out Thursday. However, not everyone was enjoying themselves.
Draco had entertained himself for the past hour by sitting in his dormitory alone. Yes, alone. He had ordered everyone who was in their to take it somewhere else, and as usual they complied. His roommates had learned over the years that when Draco needed to be alone, it was best to leave him alone without question. The very few who refused to leave had witnessed one of his, for lack of better word, tantrums. Violent tantrums.
And so here Draco sat, alone and undisturbed near the windowsill. The glass was slightly frosted, making the darkness outside seem more empty. It was times like these, when the young Malfoy was all alone that he began his questionings again. What was life, what was death, what was love? These things could never be described truthfully, it seemed.
His curiosity on life and death had always haunted him, but never had it impacted him as it did tonight. It was tormenting him. Several times had he wondered what happened when death takes you. Do you just . . . Fall into a dark abyss and never experience time, space or reality again? He himself had simply refused to partake in the stupidity of religion.
Only weak hearted men take after religion and believe in a God. That was what his father had told him. Only the weak who fear death believe that sort of thing, and those were the type of men who created such a thing. That was why the Malfoys were atheist.
Draco lifted his hands to bury his face in them. His thoughts were too clouded to make any sense. All he wanted to do was die. Just lie down and die. Did life really seem worth it, when all you do is work your ass off until you lose it all in death? Fighting off a paroxysm of tears, the Malfoy pulled himself away from the gloomy window to his bathroom.
His first instincts were to take a long, sullen bath. With bubbles. But as he entered the bathroom a wave of nausea hit him hard in the gut, and he leaned over the sink. He braced himself for anything that might come, but nothing did. Probably because he hadn't had anything to eat. "Damn . . ." he murmured to no one about nothing as he backed away from the marble sink to look himself in the mirror.
He couldn't deny it; he was rather beautiful. One of his few blessings. Platinum blonde hair brushed back, yet a few strands still falling over his mercury colored eyes. A tall yet lithe body, resembling a runner's, and a fair complexion. Thank god; orangey-tan skin was extremely ugly in Draco's eyes. And to finish it off, he had a certain majesty only a Malfoy could possess, one of greatness.
But today, his 'majesty and greatness' had abandoned him. Now he was just a sad, lonely boy who had nowhere to go in life and could only look forward to pain and dissapointment. He suddenly hated that mirror, and moved away from it to sit on the rim of the bathtub. He could take a bath . . . But what would really be the point?
His second option to bring his thoughts away from harsh reality was to go talk to his professor. Did he really want to, though? Sure, he knew his head of house rather well after seven years of being schooled by him, but could he really talk to him about his problems? What if he was just . . . Uncomfortable?
But on the other hand, why had his professor asked him in the first place? Maybe this just confirmed his inquiries about being his professor's favorite student? Or maybe Severus had something to tell him? Damn, why did that man have to be so secretive and, and . . . Mysterious?
A few rooms away, the Slytherin Grandfather Clock chimed seven times. Dinner would most likely have been over by now, so this would be the time to do it. For the first time in a while, the Malfoy felt a nervous shudder go down his spine. That had only happened a few times. Namely, with his parents.
Growling and picking himself up from the bathroom tub, Draco made his way out of the room. He grabbed his robes and slid into them, leaving the dormitory just as a few boys entered. Down the stairs and through the common room he went, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing. No one else needed to know.
~][~
It really was a cold night. Moreso when one was down in the dungeons. A fire crackled in the corner of the room, but it had been dying for some time. The room in question was tidy as usual. An ordinary couch sat next to an ordinary armchair which was in front of an ordinary fireplace. Several bookcases covered the walls, and a few books lay scattered carelessly on the floor. Of course, this wasn't the only room; a small kitchen and a bedroom were also part of the living quarters.
The only thing different about this room from any other in Hogwarts, was that the sultry potions professor was lounging in front of the fire.
Leaning back in the armchair, Severus closed his eyes. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, but it must have been a while. The wine in his glass had been reduced to a little sliver of red at the bottom, and it had stained the glass. Setting the glass down on the table at his side, he sat up and stared at the fire. No matter how hard the fire tried to sizzle happily, it sadly gave up after a while and was reduced to an isolated glow in the logs.
There was some sort of metaphore in there, he knew it.
The room had also fallen from the somewhat comforting warm glow to a dark, shadowy place. Haunting almost. There was another light on in the kitchen, as the wine bottle still rested on the counter, but other than that it was cold, dark, and lonely. Gods, how pathetic Severus had turned . . . But he couldn't help it.
His childhood had passed, which he might have been thankful for on other circumstances, but now he was just . . . Old. Well, maybe not old, but he wasn't a child anymore. The Order seemed to be growing weaker; which Severus didn't doubt from the first place. And of course, his favorite Malfoy, Draco, would be graduating in a matter of six months or so.
And then he would most likely never see the boy again.
If there was ever a time Severus would have a breakdown and cry, it would have been now. Sadly, he was too stubborn to cry. Stand up slowly, the potions professor took his glass and went to the kitchen. What was he doing, just wallowing away in self pity? Perhaps he was subconsciously waiting for Draco . . . But inside he knew that it was a slim chance the boy would actually come. He set the glass down on the kitchen counter and refilled it slowly, watching as the velvety red liquid slide into the glass. How much like blood it looked.
Sighing to himself, Severus leaned his elbows against the counter and placed his forehead in his hands. Yes, he was definitely going through a mid life chrisis, and he knew it. He had already been feeling more lonely than normal, and that was really saying something, since the potions master had always been an isolationist of sorts. He had found himself unable to sleep at night, and thus led to harsh shadows underneath his eyes. And a cranky mood, to boot.
Running a hand through his black hair, he picked up the glass with one hand and sipped at it.The strong vintage wine soothed his feelings in some instances. That must have been why the drink was so popular. Standing away from the counter, he left the kitchen after flipping off the lights. Now it was pretty much pitch dark in the entire place, save for the dying glow of the fire. He would have to light that again.
Pulling out his wand with his free hand, he muttered a spell and the fire drew back into it's happy crackling self. Satisfied slightly, he took his seat again down on his recliner. Ah, what a Thursday. What a god awful Thursday. At least it was over, and Friday would be tomorrow. Which meant no more classes for two days. Oh, how he wished for that weekend to come early.
Just as Severus started to take a sip of his wine again, a knock sounded on his door. His heart skipped a beat, and he set the glass down on the table. Did Draco actually come? He glanced towards the clock. It was only seven fifteen, so it was possible. Standing up slowly, he drifted towards the door with uncertainty. But what was he getting himself all worked up over? After all, he was just a student.
Opening the door, he was met with the happy face of Dumbledore. Great. "Good Evening, Severus!" The professor blinked, and stepped aside to allow the Headmaster in. However, the old man declined it with the wave of his hand and looked up at Severus. "I just wanted to ask of you a favor. Madame Pomfrey is short on pain killers, and we would be most grateful if you could whip us up some."
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Thank you, Severus. It's always wonderful to have your help."
Sighing, Severus nodded and prepared to shut the door, when he was stopped again. "Oh, and Severus . . . I've heard of this wonderful thing; a Muggle pill called Proza-"
"Goodnight, Headmaster."
Shutting the door, Severus turned around to sit back down, but stopped. Continuing to stand in the doorway, the professor put a hand on his forehead and sighed. Alright, now he was getting a little too anxious. Another nock, and he turned around almost angrily. Something always had to disturb his thought.
"Headmaster, please, I need to get--" Severus paused as he opened the door, looking down instead of straight ahead. The orangey glow inside of his room cast an outline on a student who stood a few feet away from the doorway, as though he was about to leave. His fault actually, for saying random things as he answered the door.
With a knowing smile, one that the potions professor had never expressed before, he stepped to the side and allowed the student to enter his quarters. Normally he wouldn't let a pupil come into his 'domain', but this was an acception. He had, after all, invited the boy.
"Come in, Draco."
AN: Ah, loyal reviewers. How I love ye. Please continue to R&R my fic, as it is not worthy of such appreciation x) done now. Oh, and yes, a flashback will be on the way. Next chapter.
Chapter III
Such a dark night. A dark, cold night. Snow had fallen and left a glaze on the grounds. The castle had been sprinkled with the powder, and every window was black. Six o'clock had finally come, and so had the darkness of night.
Everyone in the Slytherin Dungeons had left for dinner by now. In fact, most everyone was in the Great Hall enjoying a warm meal and talking with their friends. Yes, that was the place to be now. Now that school had ended for that drawn out Thursday. However, not everyone was enjoying themselves.
Draco had entertained himself for the past hour by sitting in his dormitory alone. Yes, alone. He had ordered everyone who was in their to take it somewhere else, and as usual they complied. His roommates had learned over the years that when Draco needed to be alone, it was best to leave him alone without question. The very few who refused to leave had witnessed one of his, for lack of better word, tantrums. Violent tantrums.
And so here Draco sat, alone and undisturbed near the windowsill. The glass was slightly frosted, making the darkness outside seem more empty. It was times like these, when the young Malfoy was all alone that he began his questionings again. What was life, what was death, what was love? These things could never be described truthfully, it seemed.
His curiosity on life and death had always haunted him, but never had it impacted him as it did tonight. It was tormenting him. Several times had he wondered what happened when death takes you. Do you just . . . Fall into a dark abyss and never experience time, space or reality again? He himself had simply refused to partake in the stupidity of religion.
Only weak hearted men take after religion and believe in a God. That was what his father had told him. Only the weak who fear death believe that sort of thing, and those were the type of men who created such a thing. That was why the Malfoys were atheist.
Draco lifted his hands to bury his face in them. His thoughts were too clouded to make any sense. All he wanted to do was die. Just lie down and die. Did life really seem worth it, when all you do is work your ass off until you lose it all in death? Fighting off a paroxysm of tears, the Malfoy pulled himself away from the gloomy window to his bathroom.
His first instincts were to take a long, sullen bath. With bubbles. But as he entered the bathroom a wave of nausea hit him hard in the gut, and he leaned over the sink. He braced himself for anything that might come, but nothing did. Probably because he hadn't had anything to eat. "Damn . . ." he murmured to no one about nothing as he backed away from the marble sink to look himself in the mirror.
He couldn't deny it; he was rather beautiful. One of his few blessings. Platinum blonde hair brushed back, yet a few strands still falling over his mercury colored eyes. A tall yet lithe body, resembling a runner's, and a fair complexion. Thank god; orangey-tan skin was extremely ugly in Draco's eyes. And to finish it off, he had a certain majesty only a Malfoy could possess, one of greatness.
But today, his 'majesty and greatness' had abandoned him. Now he was just a sad, lonely boy who had nowhere to go in life and could only look forward to pain and dissapointment. He suddenly hated that mirror, and moved away from it to sit on the rim of the bathtub. He could take a bath . . . But what would really be the point?
His second option to bring his thoughts away from harsh reality was to go talk to his professor. Did he really want to, though? Sure, he knew his head of house rather well after seven years of being schooled by him, but could he really talk to him about his problems? What if he was just . . . Uncomfortable?
But on the other hand, why had his professor asked him in the first place? Maybe this just confirmed his inquiries about being his professor's favorite student? Or maybe Severus had something to tell him? Damn, why did that man have to be so secretive and, and . . . Mysterious?
A few rooms away, the Slytherin Grandfather Clock chimed seven times. Dinner would most likely have been over by now, so this would be the time to do it. For the first time in a while, the Malfoy felt a nervous shudder go down his spine. That had only happened a few times. Namely, with his parents.
Growling and picking himself up from the bathroom tub, Draco made his way out of the room. He grabbed his robes and slid into them, leaving the dormitory just as a few boys entered. Down the stairs and through the common room he went, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going or what he was doing. No one else needed to know.
~][~
It really was a cold night. Moreso when one was down in the dungeons. A fire crackled in the corner of the room, but it had been dying for some time. The room in question was tidy as usual. An ordinary couch sat next to an ordinary armchair which was in front of an ordinary fireplace. Several bookcases covered the walls, and a few books lay scattered carelessly on the floor. Of course, this wasn't the only room; a small kitchen and a bedroom were also part of the living quarters.
The only thing different about this room from any other in Hogwarts, was that the sultry potions professor was lounging in front of the fire.
Leaning back in the armchair, Severus closed his eyes. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, but it must have been a while. The wine in his glass had been reduced to a little sliver of red at the bottom, and it had stained the glass. Setting the glass down on the table at his side, he sat up and stared at the fire. No matter how hard the fire tried to sizzle happily, it sadly gave up after a while and was reduced to an isolated glow in the logs.
There was some sort of metaphore in there, he knew it.
The room had also fallen from the somewhat comforting warm glow to a dark, shadowy place. Haunting almost. There was another light on in the kitchen, as the wine bottle still rested on the counter, but other than that it was cold, dark, and lonely. Gods, how pathetic Severus had turned . . . But he couldn't help it.
His childhood had passed, which he might have been thankful for on other circumstances, but now he was just . . . Old. Well, maybe not old, but he wasn't a child anymore. The Order seemed to be growing weaker; which Severus didn't doubt from the first place. And of course, his favorite Malfoy, Draco, would be graduating in a matter of six months or so.
And then he would most likely never see the boy again.
If there was ever a time Severus would have a breakdown and cry, it would have been now. Sadly, he was too stubborn to cry. Stand up slowly, the potions professor took his glass and went to the kitchen. What was he doing, just wallowing away in self pity? Perhaps he was subconsciously waiting for Draco . . . But inside he knew that it was a slim chance the boy would actually come. He set the glass down on the kitchen counter and refilled it slowly, watching as the velvety red liquid slide into the glass. How much like blood it looked.
Sighing to himself, Severus leaned his elbows against the counter and placed his forehead in his hands. Yes, he was definitely going through a mid life chrisis, and he knew it. He had already been feeling more lonely than normal, and that was really saying something, since the potions master had always been an isolationist of sorts. He had found himself unable to sleep at night, and thus led to harsh shadows underneath his eyes. And a cranky mood, to boot.
Running a hand through his black hair, he picked up the glass with one hand and sipped at it.The strong vintage wine soothed his feelings in some instances. That must have been why the drink was so popular. Standing away from the counter, he left the kitchen after flipping off the lights. Now it was pretty much pitch dark in the entire place, save for the dying glow of the fire. He would have to light that again.
Pulling out his wand with his free hand, he muttered a spell and the fire drew back into it's happy crackling self. Satisfied slightly, he took his seat again down on his recliner. Ah, what a Thursday. What a god awful Thursday. At least it was over, and Friday would be tomorrow. Which meant no more classes for two days. Oh, how he wished for that weekend to come early.
Just as Severus started to take a sip of his wine again, a knock sounded on his door. His heart skipped a beat, and he set the glass down on the table. Did Draco actually come? He glanced towards the clock. It was only seven fifteen, so it was possible. Standing up slowly, he drifted towards the door with uncertainty. But what was he getting himself all worked up over? After all, he was just a student.
Opening the door, he was met with the happy face of Dumbledore. Great. "Good Evening, Severus!" The professor blinked, and stepped aside to allow the Headmaster in. However, the old man declined it with the wave of his hand and looked up at Severus. "I just wanted to ask of you a favor. Madame Pomfrey is short on pain killers, and we would be most grateful if you could whip us up some."
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Thank you, Severus. It's always wonderful to have your help."
Sighing, Severus nodded and prepared to shut the door, when he was stopped again. "Oh, and Severus . . . I've heard of this wonderful thing; a Muggle pill called Proza-"
"Goodnight, Headmaster."
Shutting the door, Severus turned around to sit back down, but stopped. Continuing to stand in the doorway, the professor put a hand on his forehead and sighed. Alright, now he was getting a little too anxious. Another nock, and he turned around almost angrily. Something always had to disturb his thought.
"Headmaster, please, I need to get--" Severus paused as he opened the door, looking down instead of straight ahead. The orangey glow inside of his room cast an outline on a student who stood a few feet away from the doorway, as though he was about to leave. His fault actually, for saying random things as he answered the door.
With a knowing smile, one that the potions professor had never expressed before, he stepped to the side and allowed the student to enter his quarters. Normally he wouldn't let a pupil come into his 'domain', but this was an acception. He had, after all, invited the boy.
"Come in, Draco."