Determination lashed around Octavia as she marched down the corridor, her fragility and anxiety tainting her resolve. The platter in her hands shook from the tremble of her hands, but she paid it no mind, focusing her attention on the metal barred door ahead. Her grey boots clomped against the stone ground, her curls flowing freely down her back, bouncing with each determined step. Her white jeans hung loosely off her frail limbs, a baggy grey sweater poorly concealing the skinniness beneath. The attire kept her warm in the frostiness of the dungeons, whilst shielding her sickly appearance from Draco's eyes, to an extent. Not that she cared about his opinion of her appearance.
Ron led the way down the torch-lit corridor, prisoners groaning in pain, stirring from their slumbers as they awoke to the sound of footsteps. Octavia forced herself to overlook the other prisoners in the cells lining the walls, for she couldn't afford any distractions. That day, she had to retrieve information from Draco in order to keep him alive; a task that required the utmost concentration and focus. It was difficult to maintain such centred effort, however, for Octavia couldn't deny the haunting atmosphere around her. For some reason, visiting Draco was harder than it had ever been before, including the very first time one week ago.
This time was different. It was far more frightening, eerier, crueller and downright gruelling. Not only did she have the pressure of the impending Order meeting that night to worry about, she had to ensure that she had a scrap of information to offer them from Draco. For if she didn't, he would surely be killed come morning. Again, this only increased her stress to impossible measures, for she was therefore faced with the issue of herself.
The fact that she was willing to assist a cold blooded killer out of ugly nostalgic love was revolting. It was disgusting, and she should be ashamed of herself. In fact, she was most definitely ashamed of herself, but remained determined regardless. If only to buy him another day or so. If only to buy herself more time with him.
Danger vibrated off the stone walls as she strolled behind Ron. It was not a foreign atmosphere in the dungeons, but it was stronger than ever. The prisoners remained silent, other than the occasional groan or cough, but she felt them. She felt their eyes on her as she walked by their cell doors, their silence as they observed her. She almost felt like there was one big, sick joke amongst them, and she was the punchline. Of course, that was a silly thought; they were the prisoners, and she had the power. Right?
They reached the intended cell door, rusted over by years of abandonment and a leaking roof. With a suddenly wavering resolve, Octavia puckered her lips, inhaling deeply through her nostrils, calming her stirring anxiety. The familiar clang, clank and groan of the door send shivers of anticipation down her spine, laced with the horrid fear and desire to flee. The door screeched slightly as Ron pushed it open, stepping to the side, his blue eyes locking with hazel.
"Half an hour," Ron said crisply, Octavia nodding tightly in response.
It wasn't as much time as she would have liked, but she would have to make do. Also, Octavia just didn't have the gall to debate the matter with Ron, for his temperament was fragile, the cracking calmness showing in his burning eyes. He flicked his wand, causing a ball of white light to soar into the cell, illuminating the darkness, penetrating the gloom.
Tearing her gaze away from his hateful one, Octavia swallowed thickly and stepped over the threshold. Her boots clocked against the stone ground, not touching the puddles that she weaved her way around, the vibrating slam of the door ringing in her ears. Unlike each time prior, Octavia instantly locked her gaze onto the handsome face of the prisoner, bile creeping up her throat at the fresh bruises and cuts scattered across his features, blood dried onto strands of his silvery blond hair.
Draco's head was bowed, his silver eyes glowing in the shadows of the cell, gazing up at her from beneath his lashes. His cracked pink lips screamed dehydration, his injuries obviously courtesy of the man outside the cell, but the silver swarmed with adoration and concern.
Clutching the tray tightly in her shaky hands, Octavia approached him steadily, her pace not faltering as their gazes remained connected. Slowly, he raised his head, never tearing his eyes from hers, until the back of skull rested on the stone wall he was chained to. Blonde hair, decorated with spots of blood, fell over his forehead, his molten silver eyes following her every move.
Gathering the scraps of bravery she did not possess, Octavia placed the tray of supplies on the ground next to his left leg, but didn't settle herself with it. She straightened herself, gazing down at him as he slowly spread his legs. Octavia stepped between his thighs, lowering herself to the damp ground, until she knelt right in front of him, his trouser-clad legs flanking her, their gazes never parting.
Octavia's proximity to Draco was caused by a mixture of strategy to retrieve information, as well as her burning desire to be close to him. Her body yearned to be near his, and she allowed herself that small sliver of agonising comfort, despite it sprouting from a foul place deep within her.
Draco watched her intently, unspeaking, totally silent, evidently not wishing to spook her into scurrying away or slapping him again. But she noticed that he pushed his body closer to hers, not much, but by an inch or so. Though, it was noticeable, given the clanking of the chains when he moved, and the meagre space between them.
Grabbing the moist glass of water from the tray, Octavia stuck the straw inside, holding it with two hands and raising it to his lips. Pushing his back from the wall, Draco leaned closer to her, his gaze never leaving hers, his cracked lips parting as he located the straw without difficulty. She watched as he drank slowly, her soul soothed by their close bodies, her heart aching and healing, her hands still trembling.
It was all very baffling for her. Meeting his gaze proved easier, yet harder than ever before. It shattered her mind and heart, yet put her soul back together again. It lulled her pain, washed away her woes, but struck fear and horror through her violently. A complete and utter contradiction of emotions swarmed inside of her, bubbling dangerously, threatening to spill over.
Anxiety pooled in tummy as he finished the last of the water, Octavia shifting to place the empty glass onto the tray. She picked up the piece of bread and brought it to his cracked lips, finally yanking her gaze away from his. As he ate the bread, she allowed her eyes to roam his bare chest, the shirt still unbuttoned from her previous visit. His abs were still decorated with the small silver scars, her brows furrowing as she inspected them. They were quite peculiar, as though they had been produced by a hundred papercuts. What was stranger, however, was that they were completely healed over, suggesting that the scars were years old.
If Draco didn't receive the marks from his time there at the abbey as a prisoner, then why did he have them at all? For over the past three years of the war, Draco had been at his home, presumably. He hadn't been tortured, attacked or hurt during battles. So who, at his home, would injure him in such a way? And for what reason? It was very curious.
A soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles hauled her out of her thoughts, Octavia flinching, yanking her hand away from his lips. Hazel sparkled with outrage, boring into hard silver, a glimmer of love in both of their gazes.
"Like what you see?" Draco whispered huskily, dehydration and exhaustion evident in his voice.
Octavia froze, unable to do anything but gape slightly at him, her heart shredding to scraps inside of her, her soul alighting at the sound of his voice. Emotion balled up, stuck in her throat, her lips parted as she gazed stupidly at him. She supressed the urge to sob, dismissed the impulse to throw herself at him, focusing only on her task and hatred, feeling the lingering sting of his betrayal, harnessing all of her attention onto the remains of the pain he had caused her.
"If you mean you, chained to a wall, getting what you deserve, then yes." Octavia lied venomously, resisted tears lacing her hoarse voice. "I like what I see."
Draco clenched his jaw, his eyes glowing with anger, swarming with hurt. Hazel flickered to his defined jawline, a flame of lust igniting in her core, her mouth suddenly dry. It was too dangerous, her being in that cell with him. That much was obvious in that moment, desire sparkling in her lively eyes, hatred consuming her, her fingers begging to touch him, her heart yearning for him.
"Why are you here, Octavia?" Draco asked gravelly, his voice quiet, filled with longing.
"You asked me to be here," Octavia whispered, suddenly unsure of herself.
Did he not want her here? Did he not want to see her? Was she the only one consumed with love for the other? The mere prospect threatened to bring tears to her anguished eyes, her lips pressing together, her gaze locked with his.
"Is that why you came?" Draco croaked, hard silver turning to stone, slivers of hurt visible in the cracks. "Because you were ordered to?"
"Why else would I be here?" Octavia sniffed, flicking her curls over her shoulder.
She snatched an apple from the tray, averting her eyes to her hand as she brought it to his lips. He didn't take it. His lips remained shut, his stare boring into her, but she snubbed his efforts to catch her gaze.
"Look at me, Octavia," Draco whispered roughly. "Look at me."
That did it. The sheer agony in his voice had her crumbling before him like the pathetic girl she was. Her face scrunched up, tears clouded her vision, her body stilling before it jerked, a wretched sob escaping her pale lips. Dropping the apple to his lap, Octavia buried her face in her hands, her body wracked with violent sobs, her palms attempting to muffle the horrid sounds of heartbreak.
Draco moved closer to her, as much as the chains would allow. A fresh wave of anguish washed over her as she felt his forehead rest against the top of her head, a silent gesture of comfort as she sobbed like a child. The feel of his body touching hers, even if it was just his forehead, caused ripples of love and repulsion to creep over her. Mind swarmed with memories of Draco comforting her years ago, and Octavia couldn't help but relish in the calmness it brought her.
All brutal realities of her life dispersed, and only she existed with Draco. There was no war or opposing sides. There was no wrong or right, good or evil. There was only Draco and Octavia, his forehead resting against hers, the sobs wracking her body, her havoc of emotions soothed by his presence.
Draco had always possessed this power over her, since the moment she allowed him to love her. He held the power to brush and soothe away her pain, replacing it with comfort and love.
Timidly, Octavia scooted closer to him, her body trembling and jerking with the sobs plaguing her, her face nuzzling against his neck. She didn't feel the damp blood that now coated parts of her face, for she only felt his face bury into her curls. Sitting up on her knees, her back curved awkwardly as she nuzzled against him, feeling his nose brush through her curls.
It was horrible what she was doing. It was repulsive and sickening, seeking comfort in a monster of a man. But if it was so wrong, how could it feel so right? How could she feel complete, repaired and, dare she say, happy?
"I love you, Octavia," Draco whispered hoarsely, her heart repairing piece by piece at the beautiful words she didn't know she longed to hear. "I have never stopped loving you."
"I love you too," Octavia mouthed, unable to say the words, but feeling them entirely.
A sliver of awareness crept into her dazed mind, threatening to shatter the blissful fantasy she resided in. But Draco wasn't about to let her pull away so quickly. His head bowed and turned, his lips brushing over her temple, warm wisps of peppermint breath tickling her skin. Fleetingly, she wondered how he could still smell like peppermint, for he had been in a cell for close to two weeks, but the thought evaporated the moment he kissed her protruding cheekbone.
Octavia's cheekbones had always been slightly visible, back in her healthy state, but now the hollow cheeks beneath them enhanced their visibility, providing her with a gaunt appearance. But he didn't seem to care in that moment, planting lingering chaste kisses over the bone, her eyes fluttering shut as her heart soared and clenched.
Her face turned ever so slowly to meet his, their skin brushing together, time standing still. They weren't in the dungeons anymore, but in their very own secret classroom back at Hogwarts, both students, in their teens, blissfully unaware of the darkness ahead that would separate them. Noses grazed over cheeks, shaky breaths brushed over skin, lips slowly seeking the other out, desperate to reconnect, feeling the ghost of past kisses tingling on the plump features.
Nothing could be heard, except the ringing in their ears and one another's breaths. Nothing could be seen, but pale smooth skin, splotches of blood, scattered scars. Their eyes shut in blissful serenity as their lips finally met, barely touching, alight with tingling nerves and anticipation. Draco, unable to move closer due to his restraints, waited with bated breaths, his soul yearning for hers, reaching out, grasping at the thick tense air, desperate for her lips on his.
Without warning, Octavia pushed her lips against his, a stifled groan escaping his mouth, a whimper from hers. Her arms flew around his neck, latching onto him tightly, her legs scrambling to straddle him. Their tongues instantly connected, tangling and twisting, the soft plump skin of their lips smashed together, their souls alight with passion.
For the first time in three years, Octavia felt whole again.
Straddling him, arms wrapped around his neck, Octavia pushed against him, his back and head pressed into the rough stone wall, but he didn't feel the pain that came with the harsh pressure. He only felt her body on his, her warm tongue slipping over his, massaging, caressing, love whipping around them unrestrained. Blood coated his handsome features, tears soaking her gaunt cheeks, the combination of the metallic and salty tastes invading their kiss, but not tainting it. They only tasted each other, whispers of past flavours invading their senses, peppermint and strawberry that neither possessed in that moment.
So lost in his kiss, Octavia didn't feel the hardness pressed against her core, but only the feel of his tongue caressing hers. She felt only the tenderness in their kiss, the raw love and need, years of agony washed away in a single moment. But their bliss was short-lived, interrupted prematurely, bringing Octavia crashing back to reality.
Not by Ron were they interrupted, but by her own mind. The mind that had been numb and cloudy, filled only with love and adoration, now screamed at her, self-hatred trickling through her veins.
Octavia pulled away from him, scrambling backwards, stopping at his knees, her eyes wide, filled to the brim with horror. Her chest heaved, rising and falling, her swollen pale lips parted as she breathed sharply.
Draco licked his lips slowly, savouring her taste, his glowing silver eyes boring into her wide hazel orbs. The triumph, raw desperation and love shone in his silver eyes, but she forced herself to not fall victim again. The prevalent self-loathing ensured it.
"Ask me," Draco said huskily, his head bowed as he gazed at her from beneath his lashes.
"Wha-wh-at?" Octavia stuttered, shocked by her own actions, horrified at herself.
"Ask what you were sent to ask," Draco whispered, his voice thick with lust, eyes glowing with affection.
"I – I, uh …" Octavia frowned, perplexed as to how he could be so calm.
Was she the only one submerged in total humiliation and shame? Was she the only one who longed to kiss the other again, but swearing to never allow such ugliness to occur?
"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Draco croaked. "You were ordered to visit me for information, no?"
"Why are …" Octavia frowned, shuffling around to sit on her knees. "Why are you saying this? Are you offering to give me information?"
"I am," Draco smirked.
"Why?"
"Do you not want answers?" Draco replied, arching his perfectly sculpted brow.
"Well, yeah," Octavia frowned. "But–"
"Then ask me."
Octavia glanced over her shoulder to the barred door of the cell before swiftly returning her gaze to Draco's. It was so dangerous being in there with him, locked inside, alone with the devil she loved. That much was evident when she had thrown herself at him like some pathetic harlot without a moral compass. Perhaps that is what she was. But, then again, love did wild things to people. It made her crazy and weak, yet she didn't leave. She stayed, gazing into his dangerously brilliant eyes, frightened, but excited, terrified, but enthralled.
"Ok," Octavia breathed after a moment, Draco smirking deviously. "What do you know of the prophecy?"
Draco slowly raised his head, suddenly seeming very tall in comparison to her frail frame. Octavia swallowed thickly as he kept his stare on hers, his head leaning back against the wall, eyes looking down at her, lips twisted into a fading smirk.
"Lords will rule the earth, controlling a hierarchy based on magical strength," Draco drawled, his tone suddenly void of emotion. "Blood means nothing anymore, but power is what determines your place in the world. No matter what you are, witches, goblins, centaurs, the new world order applies. The deserving magical folk will be respected, those inferior will submit or perish."
"I'm inferior," Octavia whispered, her brows knitted together in hurt. "I have no power, and I'm terrible at magic. Does that mean I'm scum, Draco? Does that mean I'll die?"
"No. You are more powerful and extraordinary than you can possibly imagine," Draco smirked. "Your power is not in your wand, but in your soul."
"What does that mean?" Octavia frowned.
A bang sounded at the cell door, causing it to vibrate in its hinges, catching Octavia's attention instantly. She glanced over her shoulder, biting her bottom lip anxiously before returning her gaze to a now-stoic Draco.
"What does that mean, Draco?" Octavia repeated, her tone hushed.
"Time's up!" Ron barked.
The sound of the clanking lock rang in her ears, the door screeching open, but Octavia didn't move. She knelt in front of Draco, their gazes connected, her lips still tingling from their kiss, her mind mush.
"Until next time," Draco whispered, leaning closer to her, their noses a mere inch apart as Ron stood in the doorway. "My love."
