Chapter Twelve
(Wicked)

He was growing tired of the Slytherins crowed around him. More than that, Malfoy was tired of the games.

There was a dull ache in his sinuses, an echo of the second broken nose he had ever had. Funny, he thought, that they both occurred because of Trikk, in some way or another. People pushed into his personal space, asking if he was alright, and was there anything they could get him? The only thing he wanted at the moment was a strong grip on Trikk's neck, and a cool quiet room where he could get some sleep.

"Out, the lot of you!"

Madam Pomfrey came up to Lucius' cot, shooing off the Slytherins with her hands. They left reluctantly, groaning, but still they left. A sigh of relief parted his lips, and he spared a quick, grateful glance at the healer. She seemed taken aback, but collected herself by the time she handed him the Calming Draught.

"You look as if you haven't slept in days, Mister Malfoy."

Her assumption had been more correct than he let on. If he wasn't busy keeping tabs on Trikk for the Dark Lord, he was lying in his dorm and staring at the ceiling. He often berated himself for having gotten attached to his target – weren't there American movies about the problems and complications that caused? Then, Lucius thought with a scowl, he went and told her he loved her.

You nutter, he cursed at himself.

He let out a soft groan, and let Madam Pomfrey believe it was from the remnants of pain. He took the draught gratefully, swallowing it and handing the cap back within two seconds. He watched as Madam Pomfrey placed screens around his bed, and then he was left alone in his corner of the Hospital Wing.

The ceiling was beginning to take shapes; his mind projected images on the blank canvas. He watched his seventeenth birthday, which had been celebrated by his receiving of the Dark Mark. That was also the day that the Dark Lord himself came to tell Lucius of his task. See, Voldemort had begun, he had a daughter in Hogwarts. He knew only her name, and nothing more. Lucius' task was to keep his eye on her, lure her in, make her trust him. Then Lucius was to take Ayr out of the castle, into an area the Dark Lord was able to reach.

His plan to bet Ayr into a date had failed; Lucius had underestimated the will of determined Gryffindors. He changed his tactics, trying the old fashioned way to woo her. He would get that date in Hogsmeade one way or the other. He decided he had to find yet another tactic when her presence made him want to smile, and the scent of her hair took away his breath.

It had been too convenient when he overheard Trikk and Black talking about their meeting on the full moon. He had known for three years about the Marauders' midnight escapades, and the reason behind them. He had often used the information to blackmail Lupin into doing a homework assignment, or Black into simply shutting up. He hadn't known where they went, however – he just knew it was somewhere off of school grounds.

And so he had followed them. Ayr had almost seen him; but his dark cloak had hidden him easily in the shadows. Giving up their position wasn't hard for Lucius; he was confident that the Dark Lord wouldn't hurt his only heir. Potter and friends, possibly, but that left no remorse in Lucius' gut, either. He thought he had had it figure out by then – Voldemort would meet his daughter, and have no objection to closer tabs being kept on her, and Ayr would never know that Lucius had been the one feeding the Dark Lord the information.

He knew she would have figured it out eventually, but he was planning on having enough time to come up with a viable excuse. When the Dark Lord had told Lucius that he was not only to meet him at the Shrieking Shack, but to stand by his side, Lucius' heart had turned to lead. All delusions about having a future with Ayr Trikk had been shattered.

"Stupid," He hissed at himself, his disgust echoing off the walls.

It was when she saw her tears that he pitied her, but it was when she defied Voldemort in the end that Lucius knew he loved her. The strong-willed, bull-headed Gryffindor had come through, defying her destiny even as she faced it. She was braver than he, that Lucius knew for a fact. He didn't have the strength to stand up to the Dark Lord; he feared for his family's life, his future family's life, and more importantly, his own life.

"You're weak," He told himself.

The look of betrayal in Ayr Trikk's eyes when he stepped up to join the Dark Lord haunted him. He knew then there was no hope for them, and he had scolded himself for the pain he felt at the realization. It hadn't stopped there; as the Dark Lord and Lucius left the Shrieking Shack's grounds, he had turned to Lucius with a smile.

"The seed is planted," He had mused, glancing towards the run-down house. "You're next task, Lucius Malfoy, is to ensure that the seed grows."

When he had asked how, the Dark Lord had smiled cryptically, and replied that he must make Ayr's anger uncontrollable. Push her to the brink, so to say. Lucius' mind had reeled at the thought of pushing Ayr further away. He didn't want to, but he knew that it was for the best – for the both of them.

"You were enemies before," He reminded himself. "You'll be enemies again."

He looked towards the door was it opened. A frightened looking house elf looked around the room, and when her bulbous eyes fell on him, she scurried over to him, handing him a piece of parchment. It had been rolled up, and tied with a red ribbon. Lucius' eyes widened when he realized it was the red ribbon he had tied around the black rose for Ayr.

"Massa Malfoy," The house elf squeaked. "Twinky has been sent by Missus Trikk to give this to you."

He took the letter, and his heart skipped a beat. He looked down at the house elf, and spared her a smile.

"Thank you, Twinky."

The house elf hurried out of the room, presumably back to kitchen – or wherever it was that Dumbledore let them sleep. He stared at the parchment in his hand, scowling down at it for a moment before he unrolled it. He braced himself for horrid words – perhaps she had gone so far as to make this a Howler.

There's no place for love in your life, He reminded himself with a sneer. Your allegiance lies with the Dark Lord.

He unrolled the scroll, and his heart stopped beating. He stared at the words on the parchment for a few more minutes before rolling it up, retying it, and setting it on his nightstand. The Calming Draught was finally taking effect, and he felt his body warm and relax, and his eyelids grew heavier.

That night, Lucius Malfoy fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Ayr looked around the Room of Requirements with smug satisfaction. She looked at the clock on the wall, and controlled her breathing when she noticed the time.

After the thrown Quidditch match the previous night, Jessiey had held her back in the locker room after Potter and Sirius had already left for the castle. They had argued in hushed tones; Jessiey wanted her to tell the others, and Ayr had told her there was no reason to. It was only when Jessiey pointed out that the Dark Lord could cause something, indirectly, while she was in the castle that Ayr had conceded with a sigh. Ayr had then argued that she needed to talk to the Marauders, since their secret was mingled with hers. Jessiey had waved her hand, telling her that she had already gotten their permission, and they were waiting for them in the Gryffindor common room.

The conversation hadn't been a necessarily pleasant one; Ayr had begun at the beginning, as she had with Potter and Jessiey. The girls were shocked at the news that Malfoy had tried to molest her, and then angry when Ayr had revealed that it wasn't Malfoy, but Daniel Parkinson. All eyes turned to Jessiey, who had been paired with the perverted Slytherin for the Amortentia assignment, and she had shrugged softly, reassuring them that nothing had happened; Malfoy had been around when Ayr hadn't, and this news seemed to shock the girls even more.

Courtney had begun to cry softly when Ayr told them the part about going to the Shrieking Shack; she hadn't shied away from Remus, but had looked rather relieved when she realized why he avoided her every so often. Remus and Peter had looked rather surprised when Ayr had filled them in on what had happened while they were unconscious.

Her friends had looked sick, but Isis had attempted to relieve the tension by telling Ayr she had always known something was odd about her. Sarah was silent, and Courtney had been too busy fussing over Remus to really interact in the following conversation. Lily had taken the logical approach – she told Ayr she needed to find out what Voldemort had done to her, and what it meant. Ayr had reluctantly agreed, knowing there was only two people that could help her, one of which she hated slightly less than the other.

I need to see you, she had scribbled on a piece of parchment. Please me in the Room of Requirements – you'll know how to open it.

She found a house elf tending the fire in the kitchen, and had asked her to give the note to Malfoy. Now, Ayr looked around the Room of Requirements, which she had opened by wishing she had a nice, quiet place to talk to Malfoy undisturbed. The door had appeared, and she had walked into a dimly lit sitting parlor, done with neutral, warm colors.

The winged armchair hugged her body, but Ayr still stiffened when the door opened. She watched as Malfoy looked around in mild confusion, his eyes finally settling on her. He walked over to sit in the arm chair across from her, but she could see the tension hidden behind the arrogant gait.

"You came," She deadpanned, crossing her legs.

"Well, you simply needed to see me," He smirked, tension gone in his arrogant sneer.

"I need," She hissed, her fingers aching from fisting them in her lap. "To know what my f – what Voldemort did to me."

"You dare speak his name?" There was no humor in his eyes when he said this.

"He's my father," She spat. "He's lucky I'm not running around calling him daddy in front of his beloved… followers."

She looked at him pointedly, and Malfoy fought the urge to twitch under her gaze. He leaned back in his chair, looking her up and down, smirking in his Malfoy way.

"I don't know why you're bothered," He sneered. "You're the daughter of the greatest wizard in existence, and – let's face it, Trikk – you looked much better that way. More… mature."

She glared as his eyes raked her lithe body, settling with a smirk on her chest, where there was little more than a slight bulge in her shirt. She fought the urge to smack him, reminding herself that she needed him here, for the moment.

"Malfoy," She started, pushing the anger from her voice. "I need to know."

"What makes you think I know?"

The sneer on his face irked Ayr, and she could feel the beginnings of rage ebbing into her stomach. Her eyes were beginning to throb, so she closed them, trying to get a hold on her temper. He was just being Malfoy, she told herself, so why was he getting under her skin even more now?

"Because," She seethed, rubbing her temples. "He trusted you with following me around. Or because it was dark magic, and I'm sure you've had your own experience with that."

Something akin to shock took hold of Malfoy's features momentarily, before his face melted into his usual sneer. Ayr smirked in satisfaction at his silence – it was nice to know that she could feed Malfoy's load of shit back to him.

"He gave birth to your darkness," He answered flatly. "It's your lineage – your destiny."

"How do I undo it?"

Malfoy let out a bark of cynical laughter, leaning forward in his seat. He placed his elbows on his knees, and touched his fingertips together in of him.

"Why would you want to?" He asked, and it sounded sincere. "I'd be honored to be the Dark Lord's only heir."

"I am nothing like Voldemort," She hissed, and opened her eyes to stare at him. "Blood status is a useless judgment of power. Lily Evans is a muggle-born, and she rivals Snape in potions – he, by the way, is a half-blood."

Malfoy fixed her with a weary sneer.

"Do you believe that matters to the Dark Lord?" He scoffed. "You life has been a lie, Trikk – you are not this kind, wholesome person who befriends mud-bloods and blood traitors. You were born to be powerful and rule the new world by your father's side."

His words tumbled around in her head. Her entire life, she had detested being told who she should befriend, and the woman she should present herself to be. The only reason she was friends with Sirius was because her mother wanted her to marry a pure blood. It was beginning to get under Ayr's skin, and she hissed out a slow, seething breath.

"I am," She stated coldly, "Whoever I want to be."

"No," He shouted, and she jumped. "You are Ayr Gabrielle Trikk, daughter of our Dark Lord, and you will accept your destiny, sooner or later, whether you like it or not! He unleashed your darkness, Trikk, and when it comes out, you'll have no control over your actions."

Ayr leaned forward in her chair, and concentrated on the small fire crackling in the background. She had forgone the couch that sat in front of it, because she hadn't wanted to be any closer to Malfoy than necessary. With a bitter sigh, she closed her eyes, rubbed her temples and then stood.

"Nevermind," She spat, walking towards the door. "You've lied to me, betrayed me, and -" She turned with a cynical laugh "- I almost believed you were a decent human being! Why did I think that you would help me? You're nothing but a coward."

Something dark flashed in Malfoy's eyes, and he was in front of her before she could blink. He backed her up until her back hit the door, and he placed both hands by her head, glaring down at her. Her breath hitched in her throat at his suffocating nearness, but his audacity made the rage in her stomach boil.

"Move," She hissed, matching his glare with her own.

"Or what?" He sneered, leaning closer. "You'll sic daddy on me?"

The implication that Ayr couldn't defend herself made her rage overflow. She felt it course through her veins, heating her blood until it pounded behind her eyes. She remembered the bludger incident from the day before, and Sirius' warning that her eyes were changing. She tried to get a handle on her anger before more than her eyes changed.

She couldn't do it; she was choking on her anger. Her mind was reeling – why was she letting Malfoy get to her? The answer wouldn't come, and she didn't necessarily need one. A warm feeling spread through her body, answering the rage and mingling with it. Her skin pulled tight as her limbs stretched, and she could feel her clothes tighten as her body filled out. They were all minor changes – she began panicking when her blonde hair darkened and grew.

I can't control this, she thought frantically. It's the rage – it answers to anger!

It was the last competent thought Ayr had before she locked eyes with Malfoy. He looked a bit surprised, but then the surprise melted into a smug satisfaction. Ayr felt her skin bristle, but she wasn't interested in hitting him. Malfoy was power and nobility; Malfoy was power, and she wanted to control it.

"Is this what you wanted?" Asked a voice that wasn't entirely hers.

"This is who you're supposed to be," He replied, his smirk arrogant and satisfied.

"Move," She repeated, but he didn't.

"You can't walk around the castle this way, Trikk." He rolled his eyes. "You don't exactly look normal. Better, but not normal."

"Who said anything about walking around the castle?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, placing a hand on his chest and pushing. "What I want is right in this room."

Malfoy walked backwards as she pushed him, looking amused and slightly conflicted. She knew she was power, and she knew he wouldn't reject her – not again. Ayr would have Malfoy, in one way or the other, or she would kill him. She smirked in amusement as she backed him up, not missing the irony in the situation. His heel caught the leg of the couch, and he landed on the ground with a wince and a thump. Ayr lowered herself next to him, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Malfoy's eyes watched her hips as she lifted them, swinging a leg over him so that she hovered over him on all fours. She ducked her head, claiming his mouth hungrily. She could taste his lust, but she was more interested in the hint of danger she detected when his teeth grazed her lip. She heard someone moan, and she thought it may have been her. Malfoy turned his head and looked up at her from the corner of his eyes.

"What are you doing, Trikk?"

He didn't sound angry; his voice was lower, huskier, and it made Ayr writhe over top of him. He watched her move with hungry eyes, and she laughed softly, pressing her mouth against his. She lowered her body so that she straddled his hips, and ground into him, drawing a feral moan from his throat.

"I'm owning you," She mumbled against his lips. "Is that a problem, Malfoy?"

"No."

She smirked behind their kiss; she hadn't planned on stopping, regardless of his answer. His hands reached up hesitantly, settling on her hips, pushing her down onto him. The pressure against her groin sent a shiver through her spine, the movement doing nothing to help the heat low in her stomach. Malfoy's hands slid under her shirt and up her back, his nails biting into her skin gently as he pulled his hands back down. She moaned against his mouth, wanting to crawl inside of him.

"Your shirt," She hissed when her hands touched the smooth planes of his stomach. "Take it off. Now."

Malfoy obliged, leaning up to pull his shirt over her his head. He flicked his wrist, and the bundle of cloth disappeared, lost in the room. His hands skimmed her stomach hungrily, and she lifted her arms and leaned forward, allowing him to remove her blouse, not bothering with the buttons. His hand snaked into her hair, crushing it against her head as he attacked her mouth.

She looked down at him while his free hand slipped behind her, and she felt the gentle fall of her breasts as he unclasped her bra. It disappeared with the other clothes, and she gasped when Malfoy leaned up, taking a nipple between her teeth and worrying at it. His other hand, now free, took her breast and crushed it against her body. There was an instant of pain before her pleasure receptors took over, and she moaned.

"I didn't know you were into rough, Trikk."

She smirked down at him before sinking her teeth into his shoulder. She ran the tip of her tongue along the indents, tasting the slightest bit of blood as Malfoy moaned around her nipple. The vibrations made her shiver, and she moved her hips, slipping her hands down to unclasp his pants. She lifted her hips, pushing them down as far as she could, making sure his briefs went with them, and then using her foot to push them the rest of the way. She let out a shuddering breath when she saw the length of him, and took him in her hand, enjoying his soft whimper.

Malfoy flipped her over, his fingers tickling her side as his hand trailed down to her hip. He bunched her skirt into his hand, pushing it up her stomach; his mouth trailed down her neck, nipping the flesh softly. She arched up into him, whimpering her need against his mouth when she claimed it with her own. She tensed when his fingers pushed her underwear to the crook of her thigh.

He slid a finger inside of her, moving it slowly as she clenched around it. He slid another, moving them in a "come hither" motion against her walls. She writhed under him, letting her lids fall over her eyes and a whimper escape her lips. He removed his fingers too soon for Ayr's liking, and she let out a groan of frustration.

"Patience is a virtue you obviously do not possess, Trikk."

Ayr made a mental not to hit him for being a wise-ass in their current situation; right now, all she wanted was to feel him inside of her, to hold him as hers as he claimed her and her body. She met his eyes, and almost gasped when she saw the hunger in them.

He thrust into her, and she did gasp at the momentary pain coursing through her pelvis. He pulled almost completely out of her before pushing back in again, slowly. She groaned as he hit her cervix, writhing uncontrollably underneath of him. His teeth grazed her earlobe, her neck, her shoulder, and finally her lower lip. She hissed as his teeth closed around the flesh, and pulled it from his grip before kissing him harshly.

Minutes later, one of Malfoy's hands disappeared between them, and Ayr let out a strangled cry as his thumb pressed against her clit. The waves of pleasure wracked her spine as Malfoy's pace quickened, and she felt an odd warmth grow from her gut. Before she knew what it was, it blind-sided her and drew a cry from her lips. Lucius swallowed it with his mouth, groaning with her when his release came.

He hovered above her, both of them breathing hard, and pressed his forehead against hers. He watched with amusement and slight concern as the red in her eyes faded to blue. The hair beneath her shimmered for a slight second, and then her normal blonde returned. Her eyes lowered and then widened, and Malfoy covered her mouth before she could scream.

"Don't," Malfoy hissed. "You wanted this."

She pushed him off of her, accioing her clothes to her. She jerked into them, glaring at Malfoy with hatred.

"Wasn't it you who told me I had no control," She began, dangerously calm, "When I was dark?"

Malfoy stared on in silence, and this infuriated her more. She didn't give him the chance to answer; she needed to leave before the tears welling up in her eyes spilled. She brushed past him and jerked the door open, storming down the corridor and away from Malfoy.

He had lied to her, betrayed her, and used her trust in him to turn her over to Voldemort. She seethed, her fists clenching in anger as she stormed towards the Gryffindor common room. He had lied, betrayed, and had taken advantage of her when she was her most vulnerable.

As the tears finally fell, Ayr knew only one thing: she could stop trying to hate Malfoy – he had made that decision very easy.