TrinityLost: *blush* why thank you, I'm glad you like my Draco, I'm trying to keep him as real as I imagine him.
So people – pretty please leave me a note, let me know what you think (because I know you are following this, I can see the stats)
Chapter 12: Persuasion
They started out with pygmy-puffs.
Snape had confiscated every one of the offensive pink puff-balls that had the misfortune of being discovered in the Slytherin common room, at the breakfast table, or came within even a few feet of his new Defense classroom. It was only the second week and he had amassed no fewer than twenty-seven.
Draco couldn't help smirking at the image of those pink candy-floss creatures in the same room as Snape's gruesome images of people dying of an impressive variety of dark curses. The new décor in the Defense classroom this year seemed to elicit mostly cynicism from his fellow classmates and he knew, at one point, he'd have reacted the same way. But he knew better now, and he was grateful they were meeting in the dungeons instead. He rubbed left wrist absentmindedly, and gazed at the pygmys, trying to focus on the task at hand.
They seemed even more out-of-place here in the dungeon, but what amused Draco the most was the fact that Snape, apparently in a terrible miscalculation on his part, was now the proud owner of twenty-seven offensively pink, squeaking pygmy-puffs. The mere sight of them seemed to be so revolting to the man that he could barely bring himself to glance at the cage when he informed Draco of his task for the evening.
You wouldn't think, really, that it would require much in the way of mental effort to imperius a pygmy-puff, but you'd be wrong.
"You are not concentrating, Mr. Malfoy," Snape drawled. Draco bristled at the fact that he was always, inevitably, 'Mr. Malfoy' when Snape was teaching him, even now.
"I am," Draco insisted.
"That is unfortunate, because laziness would certainly be a preferable excuse to sheer incompetence."
"I'm trying, but it won't obey." Draco was pointing his wand and ordering the pink puffball on the desk in front of him spin. Just spin for gods' sake.
"It is not a house-elf," Snape said simply.
Extremely irritated at this point, Draco snapped back, "what's that supposed to mean?"
Snape stood, and walked toward him slowly, and in a softer voice said, "Merely, Mr. Malfoy, that you cannot begin by simply commanding it." He took another step closer, "you must persuade it, coax it, lull it into obedience." Snape was staring at him intensely and Draco felt his face growing warm. He did not even notice to flick of Snape's wand under his robes.
Then suddenly, Draco found himself standing, arms to his sides, looking up at Snape and unable… no unwilling… to turn away. And then he felt a gentle tug pulling him closer, and he took a step forward, because he found he wanted to. He couldn't really focus his eyes on anything else in the room, but that seemed ok right now. He felt another, stronger tug and took another step closer to his Professor, which at that moment seemed like an ok thing to do, if only to make that nagging, itching, tug go away. And then, he felt a stronger impulse and he shrugged off his school robes and stood in front his Professor in just trousers and his shirt sleeves. His heart was pounding, and he felt his face flushing, as he gazed up into Snape dark eyes, unable… no, unwilling… to look away.
Draco felt a sudden draft of wind, and almost at the same instant he realized how very, very close he was to his Professor and that, maybe, he didn't want to be, but he couldn't tell. His vague unease turned to something more like fear when he realized that he was unwilling… no unable… to step back, and when he tried to reach out his hand, it was merely to place it on the buttons of the man's black robes. Draco heard Snape's breath hitch, and felt his own heartbeat in his throat. He gazed up into Snape's eyes and saw something glinting there that he had never seen before.
Snape seemed to be holding his breath, his dark black eyes burning into Draco, but he remained perfectly still, until a faint glimmer of something like… pain?... appeared in his face.
Suddenly, Snape stepped back and exhaled, and Draco felt himself released from the magical bind that had held his will.
Snape seemed somewhat flustered, but recovered quickly enough, returning to his desk to mark papers without another look at Draco, who was still standing where he had been held, confused and feeling oddly warm despite the chill.
After a few moments, Snape sighed exasperatedly and said, "try it again, Mr. Malfoy." And Draco turned back to the puffball.
After the boy left, Severus collapsed into his armchair, groaning as he pressed the heel of his hand into the erection that had plagued him for the last hour, ever since his foolhardy display. He summoned himself a bottle of scotch and a glass and sat staring at his fireplace. The base potion for the wolfs-bane was brewing in his private lab next door and he could just barely smell it from where he was sitting. Tomorrow he'd finish it, and see the wolf, and probably irritate him enough to punch him and storm off again like last month.
He finished his drink in another gulp, and aching pleasantly under the haze of alcohol and arousal, and shuffled off to bed.
Once he figured out the trick, Draco found the imperius absolutely addictive. There was no other word for it. He began visiting the owlery and making the owls battle each other. Once, in a particularly absurd mood, he made two of them waltz around in the high ceiling.
Snape had procured for him a number of different animals but had refused outright to let him perform the curse on a student. That did not, however, stop Draco from trying.
He'd made a few attempts in class but found that he was unable to break through his own distraction to really manage it, and that eye-contact seemed to help establish the initial connection.
Which is why he was now sitting at dinner staring at the Gryffindor table, willing one of them to look up. Ah! Yes! Potter! Draco held his gaze as he tucked his wand out from inside of his sleeve and began to murmur the incantation…
But just then, he felt a jolt of searing pain shooting up his arm from his finger-tips to his shoulder blade and he dropped his wand, gripping his arm without a second thought. He caught the looks of several of the Slytherins sitting near him and quickly released his arm, murmuring something about a muscle spasm from Quidditch, and turned his eyes to seek out Snape at the head table. Snape's eyes were trained on Draco, yet his face betrayed no emotion. Still, Draco could see his left arm lying stiffly beside his bowl, gripping a wayward spoon. Then he nodded, ever so slightly, and Draco understood. A summons. A real one. They would have to go. Tonight.
Draco found his way to Snape's office after failing to finish any of his meal, hold a single conversation, or really even focus his eyes. The first jolt had been replaced by a vague throbbing that seemed to grow faster and more painful the longer they waited. Eager to leave, eager to arrive in the blessed darkness of the cold, dark house and feel the pain dissipate, Draco rushed down to the Snape's office and knocked desperately before throwing open the door.
Snape was standing over a cauldron in the back of the room. He turned to Draco frowning and handed him a potion and then seemed to wave him away. What? Draco remained in the doorway, frowning, but unable to articulate anything through the now screaming pain in his arm.
Snape turned around and glared at him irritably.
"We are not going," he snapped.
"But-"
"It hurts. Yes. Drink the potion. Go to bed."
Draco groaned and felt he might burst into tears if he was not relieved soon, but he gulped the potion down obediently. It was mildly better, he found. He was able to formulate a whole thought, which amounted to, please, please can we go now because I really really need the pain to stop.
But Snape merely glanced at him irritably, and drank his own helping of the potion. Then he gruffly handed Draco vial of it to take with him, and sent him out of the door.
The pain did not stop.
It came in waves, crashing over him when he was just beginning to think it had finally subsided.
All night he lay awake, tossing and turning. He had fallen into bed in his clothes, unwashed. He could barely manage the silencing spell on his curtains. Every thought, every desire, every need was subverted by the pull toward relief. Toward his Lord. The call was powerful. Almost unbearable.
The next day Draco suffered through breakfast is silence, unable to eat. He had taken the rest of Snape's potion, which worked long enough to enable him to struggle into new clothes, which had taken nearly thirty minutes. Each separate thought, each desire, first for socks, then pants, then trousers, then to button his trousers, then to find a bloody shirt… each thought required a force of will he could barely find, and he fought the desire to just fall down and give up, or desperately attempt to apparate away by himself.
By the time he had struggled to the great hall and slumped into his seat, he could not bring himself to want to eat anything.
They had Defense first thing that morning and after one look at Draco, Snape dismissed him for the rest of the day, for which Draco could only just manage to muster the will to be grateful.
The next day was no better. The mere thought of clothing was overwhelming. The idea of food was abhorrent.
It wasn't until the following night that Snape sent a worried-looking house-elf to Draco's dorm-room with another vial of potion and a note:
Mr. Malfoy,
Report to my office immediately.
SS
Draco gulped the potion blindly and willed himself into clothing and out through the common room into the corridor. To his immense relief, Snape was already standing outside of the door to the Slytherin dorms, waiting for him. He grasped Draco's elbow and led him briskly up the stairs, out through the front doors, across the grounds, and through the gates. Draco prepared to stop and apparate but Snape kept on walking. When Draco whimpered he turned a disgusted look at him and explained,
"Too many aurors," and kept walking. They walked all the way into Hogsmeade and didn't stop until they reached an alley beside The Three Broomsticks.
Almost the moment that the squeezing crush of apparition released him, he felt his arm and his whole body blissfully relieved. He exhaled deeply, and gazed as the serpentine companion on his arm, now wriggling contentedly. He could feel his mind freed from the nagging, pulsing, enveloping desire to obey, and nearly swayed in the warmth of his reward.
Beside him, Snape breathed deeply, his brow relaxed, his face smooth, and Draco realized he must also have been longing to come back, longing to return, to be freed from the aching summons.
Draco took another deep breath, feeling invigorated with every passing moment. He pointed his wand to the tip of his chin and whispered aspecto oscuro and white wisps of smoke rose up to form a porcelain mask over his face. He followed Snape into the room to find the others milling about while the Dark Lord spoke in quiet tones with someone over by the fire. Draco stayed in the door-way while Snape went and reported their arrival. Within minutes, the crowd had formed a circle with the Dark Lord's chair at the head. When silence had fallen, Draco heard,
"Young Malfoy, show us what you have learned," and Draco swallowed, hard.
