A/N - warning, this chapter contains emotional issues and adult content.
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Chapter 55
Orbitas
Snape hurried to the door as the loud pounding came again. He paused, looking back to make sure everything was in order, then pulled his robe closed and opened the door. Much to his surprise, Draco was standing there holding his broom.
"What's going on?" He asked, his brow furrowing. Draco wasn't looking directly at him, but off to the side, and his gaze was distant.
"I need you to come with me. Right now." Draco said in an oddly distracted voice.
"Where? What for?" Snape asked, his concern quickly growing.
"The lake. Bring her with you." Draco said.
"Why on earth..." Snape trailed off in surprise as Draco simply walked away, heading for the stairs.
Snape closed his door, looking back as Hermione poked her head out of the bedroom door. "What was that about?" She asked in a hushed voice.
"I don't know, but I intend to find out. Get dressed." He said, heading back briskly.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
... slowly Derik stirred... though only mentally. His body was completely immobilized, the crushing weight still sitting squarely on his back, allowing very little air into his oxygen starved lungs. He breathed as best he could in tiny gasps, though the dust hung in the air, making his efforts even less effective. As he gathered his wits about him, he opened his eyes. There was little light to see by, but what was visible was horrific. Chunks of ceiling, smashed furniture and other rubble covered the floor. Assuming there was still a floor beneath it of course. He tried to move, the need to find Jessi burning inside him, but he couldn't do much more than wriggle a bit.
Suddenly, he saw movement. He managed to shift his head around in the proper direction and saw someone crouched down some three meters from him, but it was too dark to make out more than the vaguest form. He forced a bit of air into his lungs. "Jessi!" He wheezed out rather pathetically.
The figure stood suddenly and turned, wand immediately on him. The light that sprang from the tip was small, but nearly blinding after struggling to see in this darkness.
"Derik?!?"
He thought the voice sounded familiar, but his head was ringing and his struggling had used up what little oxygen he'd been able to get. Everything was going gray again and he felt himself slipping back down...
Suddenly he gasped for air as the weight was lifted from him. He felt shaky and weak, but he could breath again!
"What the bloody Hell are you doing here?!?"
Derik blinked to clear his eyes, looking up at the man trying to free him from his robe, which was still largely pinned beneath the rubble. "Lucius? What are you doing here?" he asked, bewildered.
Lucius gave a little snort, "Finishing up this lot, of course. We knew if we waited long enough those greedy bastards would feel safe enough to flock here for the spoils. Saved us a lot of time hunting them down."
Derik finally yanked himself completely clear of the trapped garment, quickly snagging his wand from the pocket and getting rather unsteadily to his feet.
Lucius quickly grabbed a hold of him and steadied him. "Cornfoot was supposed to warn you to stay clear!"
"He knew?!?" Derik asked, horror and fury battling within him as he surveyed the ruins around him.
"Of course he did." Lucius said, checking him over for damage. "He's the one who suggested it. We might well have let it go this time, let it look like it had been a random act to strike terror in the populous, but he felt that might draw suspicion on the rest of the unit."
"Jessi?" Derik called, combing the rubble with his eyes desperately.
"We need to get out of here." Lucius said as he peered out the gaping hole that used to be a wall, "They'll be setting the fiend fire any moment. You'll be safe with me on my broom." He said, putting his hand on Derik's back in an effort to herd him along more quickly.
Derik brushed his hand aside, "I'm not leaving without Jessi!" Derik insisted, starting across the 'room' towards where he'd last seen her. He nearly lost a boot as it went through a crevice in the floor.
Lucius grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "Forget her! She's dead."
Derik spun around, "What?!? No! She can't be!!!"
"Well, perhaps not technically quite yet, but she will be in a moment." Lucius said a bit impatiently. "She's marked for death. It's done. Even if she somehow survived her rather grievous wounds, which is highly unlikely, the others won't let her out alive. Now come along! We only have a moment!"
Derik pulled his arm from Lucius' grasp. "No!"
"What is she to you?" Lucius demanded irritably.
"She's carrying my child! I leave here with her or I don't leave at all!" Derik said with deadly seriousness.
Lucius stared at him in stunned silence.
Derik didn't wait for a response, trying to make his way through the rubble. Lucius grabbed his arm and Derik tried to pull away again.
"She's over there." Lucius said with a note of resignation, pointing over towards where Derik had seen him crouched when he first awoke.
Derik changed direction, heading where indicated. As he wove his way past a hunk of roofing, he spotted her. He doubted he would have been able to find her without being directed. She was almost completely hidden by a chunk of the bedroom wall that had caved in on her. There was nothing but her head and one arm showing. He pulled out his wand and managed to shift the bulk of the rubble off of her, but there was blood starting to pool at her side and it was obvious that Lucius was right, her wounds were quite grievous.
"God, please no..." Derik breathed in a pained voice as he surveyed the damage. It was obvious a number of her ribs were smashed in, and there was very little doubt there was severe internal damage. In the back of his mind he knew how insanely slim her chances were, but he refused to listen to reason. He saw her stirring, a grimace of pain on her face. He quickly waved his wand at her neck, casting a spell that blocked the incredible pain she must be feeling. The pain on her face cleared and she blinked her eyes, looking at him.
"As you can clearly see, she's as good as dead. Can we please leave now?" Lucius demanded impatiently.
"Not without her!" Derik insisted stubbornly.
Lucius sighed irritably, "Well, my broom won't carry three, and they've already set the barrier to prevent Apparation, so your only choices are to leave the dead girl and come with me or die with her. Make your decision quick or it will be made for you."
Jessi didn't seem quite all there, but what he'd said seemed to get through. "Go, Derik. Leave me."
"No." Derik said, wedging the last bit of rubble off of her legs to free her completely.
"I know how much you wanted a son... I'm so sorry..." She said, tears streaming from her eyes.
Derik's throat ached. She was dying and she was apologizing to him for it! "Stop talking like that. I'm getting you out of here."
"He won't take me. Besides, I think we both know it's too late for me. Save yourself. Please, Derik..." She said weakly, then her eyes rolled back and slid closed.
"If he won't take you, I will." Derik said, setting his jaw. He yanked his shirt off, then carefully gathered her up in his arms.
"Don't be a fool, Derik!" Lucius said, "They've just set the fire. There's no way out but the broom!"
Derik glanced down through the gaping hole in the floorboards, easily spotting the bewitched flames springing to life. He knew it was a matter of moments before the whole place was engulfed in unquenchable flames, but he held on to her resolutely. He was surprised Lucius was cutting it so close, still standing there and waiting for him, though he knew it might very well get him killed.
"There's one other way." Derik said resolutely, eyeing a thick fallen ceiling beam that slanted up towards the gaping hole that Lucius had obviously entered through, up where the ceiling used to be . He braced himself, then dashed forward as fast as he could, sprinting up a fallen beam. With one last burst of adrenaline he reached the top and vaulted himself out into the open night air. As soon as he cleared the building, huge, leathery wings shot from his back, catching the wind hard and stopping their downward plummet. He strained to pump his wings, to get them higher, but he knew he had no hope of staying out of range of the Death Eaters.
As if hearing his thoughts, fiery jets of curses started streaking past him. Knowing evasive maneuvers were pretty much beyond his skill level, he pumped his wings harder, hoping to outrun them. He cried out in pain as a curse grazed his side, searing his flesh. A heartbeat later another tore a galleon sized hole straight through one of his wings. With a shriek of agony, he quickly started losing what little altitude he'd gained. With a wave of relief, he felt himself pass through the barrier.
Lucius sat on his broom, watching with interest as Derik Apparated away. It appeared his new lover had a few interesting secrets he hadn't shared with him. He pulled out the vial from his robe, watching the wispy memories churning around within and wondering what other secrets they might reveal.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
Draco blinked, coming more aware. He shivered from the cold, looking around and finding himself standing beside the lake. He hugged himself, wishing whatever had possessed him would have thought to have him bring a winter cloak. His robe at the very least. He looked down, realizing he wasn't even wearing shoes. As full comprehension came to him, he looked back, seeing two figures leaving the castle, undoubtedly Snape and Hermione. Great. What was he supposed to say to them when they got there? Why was he even there?!?
His head whipped around as he heard a distant crack. He scanned around for the source, but it was pretty dark. Movement caught his eye. There was something in the sky, out over the lake. He watched warily as it wobbled through the air towards him, descending quickly towards the lake's surface. It was much bigger than he expected. It wasn't a thestral, of that he was sure, though he couldn't say just why. Was it a small dragon?
As it grew closer, what it was that he was seeing finally dawned on him. He felt a trill of alarm go through him as it hit the lake with a huge splash. Without another thought, he jumped on his broom and darted out over the water. When he reached the point of impact, the water was still churning as Derik tried desperately to stay afloat.
"Biddles!" He called out as he reached him.
Derik looked up in surprise, spotting him. "Take her!" he said urgently, trying to lift the woman in his arms up more so Draco could reach her.
Draco took hold of her, managing to pull her up onto the broom, though that was rather difficult given that she was wet and completely limp.
"She's hurt. Get her to shore!" Derik demanded as soon as Draco had a good hold on her.
"What about you?" Draco said, noting the amount of struggling it was taking to keep him afloat.
"That broom won't carry three. Save her! I'll be fine. Just go!" Derik insisted, trying to nudge the broom towards shore.
Draco turned and zipped across the water, arriving at the shore just as Snape and Hermione did. "She's hurt!" Draco said to curtail the questions for the moment.
Snape gingerly took her from his arms, laying her out on the ground so he could examine her. He pulled out his wand and did a few spells on her, but it quickly became obvious it wasn't working. Snape sighed sadly. "It's no use. She's dead." He said softly.
Draco sighed, then grabbed his broom back up, "Well, stick around. Biddles might need patching up too."
Snape's head snapped up. "Derik Biddles?" He said, his gaze quickly sweeping the water.
"Ya, he's..." Draco trailed off, looking over the water. The surface was smooth and unbroken.
"He can't swim!" Snape said urgently.
Draco whipped his leg over his broom and streaked out over the water. He reached the spot he was pretty sure Derik had been in, but there was nothing but glassy smooth water beneath him. He quickly cast a Bubblehead charm on himself, lit the tip of his wand and slipped his leg over the broom. He braced himself, then slid off the broom into the icy water. He was shuddering with cold almost immediately, but tried to ignore it. He swam down as quickly as he could, scanning around for any sign of Derik. The deeper he went, the colder it seemed to get, but luckily after a bit he stopped noticing it so much. He had hoped Derik wouldn't be too far down, because he knew there was no way he would be able to make it all the way down to the bottom of the lake before freezing, but he was quickly losing hope. He clutched his wand a bit tighter in his numb fingers as he saw a shadow flit by.
As he swam on, he spotted a dark shape ahead. As he got closer, the edges of it seemed to be moving as it slowly rose up. Once his pale wand light finally fell upon the shape, Draco's eyes went wide with shock. It was Derik... but there were dozens of grindylows swarming around him! They all had a hold of him, but it didn't appear as if they were actually attacking him... it almost looked like they trying to drag him back up towards the surface!
As he got closer, the creatures bared their teeth at him and fled back down into the depths. Once they were gone, Derik started drifting downwards. Draco quickly swam over, catching a hold of his wrist and pulling him up. Once he managed to get his arm around the man's waist, he dismissed his light long enough to cast a Bubblehead charm over Derik's head. When he relit his wand, he looked him over. The charm was in place properly, but Derik still didn't appear to be breathing. Draco let out a frustrated breath. He just had to concentrait on getting him back to shore. Snape would know what to do.
That was easier said than done. It was far harder than expected to swim upwards while hauling Derik. It was as if he was hauling up a large sandbag. The drag from the wings wasn't helping either! It was a good thing he hadn't worn a cloak or he'd have no chance at all.
Suddenly, he had an idea. He cast the Bubblehead charm again, but instead of stopping once an adequate sized bubble had formed, he let it go on a bit, growing ever larger. It spread down, holding on to them tight so as not to be dislodged. In just a few moments, it encompassed them both entirely. It was a bit irritating being shoved up against Derik in the confined space, but they were finally making good progress towards the surface. He could already see the wane light of the moon coming closer.
Once the huge bubble broke the surface, Draco quickly looked around. His broom was just a few meters away, waiting patiently. He summoned it, grabbing for it quickly as the handle popped the bubble. It wasn't easy, but he managed to keep a hold of both the broom and Derik without dropping his wand. The air felt almost hot against his skin after the icy depths. He got his arm all the way over the broom holding it between his arm and his body, but knew that was the most he could hope for. He could already feel the deep weariness of hypothermia setting in. He struggled to keep his eyes open and his grip firm as he directed the broom to drag them to shore.
Snape hurried out to help him once he was close enough. He staggered out onto the shore, dropping Derik as he shuddered from the cold, feeling like he would pass out at any moment. He couldn't help the little cry that escaped him as Snape's cloak settled around his shoulders. Its warmth burned against his skin, but he clutched it to him.
"What the bloody Hell?!?" Snape said as he circled around Derik, eyeing the wings. They were bat-like and pale, but with thin, startlingly black markings covering them in an even pattern.
"He's... not... breathing." Draco said, shuddering so hard it was difficult to talk.
Snape overcame his reluctance and rolled Derik over, checking him. He pulled out his wand, casting a purging spell and water surged out of Derik's mouth. When the flow finally stopped, Snape cast Ennervate on him. Nothing. He tried it again, but the results were the same. After a further three tries, his shoulders slumped a bit. "He was down there for a while. We may be too late..." He said regretfully.
"You can't just give up!" Hermione said, obviously distraught.
"Do you think I like this any better than you do? Do it yourself if you think you can do better!" Snape snapped before he was able to reel his frustration in.
"Fine!" Hermione replied tightly, pulling her wand out with resolve.
Snape watched, feeling guilty for his rash comments, but didn't try to stop her. He knew she'd never be able to deal with it properly if she felt there was something she might have been able to do.
She cast Ennervate on Derik several more times, but to the same result. Tears of frustration clouded her eyes as she tried again.
"Hermione." Snape said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I'm afraid perhaps it's just too..."
She batted the hand away, "No!" She said stubbornly. She shoved her wand away and knelt down beside Derik, starting CPR. Snape just sighed sadly and went over to check on Draco.
Hermione blinked back her tears, refusing to give in. She absolutely refused to believe there was no chance. The water was very nearly at freezing, and she knew that made it all the more likely that he could survive. So why wasn't he responding?!? She shifted over, pinching his nose and breathing air into his lungs again.
Suddenly, Derik sucked in a breath and Hermione's head spun wildly. She pulled back so quickly she half sprawled onto the ground, only managing to stay sitting upright with the aid of her shaking arm. She fought off the wave of dizziness as she rubbed her tingling lips with the back of her hand and watched, wide eyed as he started breathing on his own. "Snape!" She said quickly, trying to keep her voice steady, though she felt oddly drained and light headed.
Snape hurried over and knelt beside Derik, checking him over.
Derik coughed weakly. His eyes opened and he blinked a couple of times, trying to get his bearings. He turned his head and spotted Jessi laid out on the shore nearby. He struggled to sit, but was pulled up short, his wings trapped beneath him. He had to roll over onto his stomach to free them. He glanced up at Snape self-consciously as he adjusted the wings. He gave them a slight shake to try to free some of the water from them, then folded them tightly against his back.
Snape watched in stunned amazement as the black markings seemed to shift slightly and thicken as if drawing tight. In seconds, the wings were gone, leaving only the patterning behind as the remaining water ran down his back. He staggered to his feet and started over towards Jessi as his tattoo settled, becoming nothing more than body art once more.
"We have to get her inside. It's freezing out here." Derik said quickly.
Snape hurried over, stepping between Derik and Jessi's body. He put his hands on Derik's shoulders, stopping him. "She didn't make it." He said as gently as he could, "I'm sorry."
Derik looked past him, down at her still body, his eyes crowding with tears. He pushed past Snape and went over, falling to his knees beside her. He reached out, checking her, then stroked her cheek as tears streamed from his eyes. "I shouldn't have landed in the lake." He said achingly. "I just... my wing was hurt, and I knew I couldn't make it all the way to the castle... I knew I was going to crash, and I thought..." He left off with a little sob, dropping his head.
"She didn't drowned." Snape said, standing beside him. "She was probably dead before you even hit the water."
Derik looked up at him, obviously thinking Snape was just trying to make him feel less guilty.
"I'd say it was a combination of bloodloss and internal injuries. I doubt she would have made it even if you'd taken her straight to St. Mungo's." Snape said as gently as he could.
"I couldn't." Derik said, gazing down at her with a somewhat lost look on his face. "It was Death Eaters. They would have just followed me there. This is the only place I knew of that they can't go, so I Apparated to right outside the barrier and tried to coast in."
"What happened?" Snape asked, "Who is she?"
"She's Jessica Demsky. The widow of that man from my unit who was killed. They got her and her late husbands relatives all in one fell swoop. Not that they were any loss..." He took a shuddering breath, gazing down at her, "I was doing so good at avoiding getting attached..." He muttered as if to himself, he shifted his gaze down, resting is hand on her stomach, "Then she told me she was carrying my child. My son. I... I couldn't help it..." He withdrew his hand and stood abruptly, hugging himself as he walked a few paces away, gazing out over the lake, his shoulders trembling. "Moments later she was dead. It's my fault. It's all my fault..."
"Don't be daft!" Draco said, staring over at him as he huddled under Snape's cloak, "You didn't kill her, the Death Eaters did. Stop blaming yourself."
Derik just shook, not turning.
Snape suddenly realized what Derik must be thinking. "Your curse could not possibly have had anything to do with this!"
Derik shook his head again. "You don't know what it's like. It's insidious and unrelenting. She never stood a chance!"
Snape went over, moving before him and taking hold of his shoulders, forcing eye contact. "Listen to me. Curses are cause and effect. They cannot tell the future. If you fell in love with her moments before the attack, there was no conceivable way your curse had the time to do anything! That woman was marked for death the moment her husband died, whether you fell in love with her or not. Quite frankly I'm surprised they waited so long to do it. It was probably just a ruse to draw the rest of the family out simply to save them the time of hunting them down. They did it on occasion in the last war, especially with larger families. Killing off the whole bloodline of those who cross them is their long standing, sick little tradition. It had nothing to do with you, it's just what they do."
Derik's eyes went wide as the implications sank in. "ELI!!!" He cried in despair. He quickly knocked Snape's hands away, then disappearing with a crack. He flashed into being at the gate for a heartbeat, no more than the single step it took him to propel himself through the gate and out of the protective barrier, then he Apparated again.
Before he could reach his destination, he crashed painfully into something. It was like hitting a brick wall! His training kicked in and he was able to escape without splinching himself horribly, but he knew before he even opened his eyes what he would see. He'd hit an anti-Apparation barrier. He looked up and saw the most horrific sight before him. It was Eli's home... already engulfed in raging fiend fire, a ghastly green Dark Mark floating above it.
"NO!!!" Derik cried, running towards the house, but in short order he hit the secondary barrier, the one the Ministry had erected to contain the fire so it didn't rage out of control and destroy everything. He yelled in futile rage, pounding against the barrier, though he knew without question he was too late. The house was no more than a roughly house shaped pillar of flames. There was no earthly way the boy could still be alive in there. He cried out in anguish, sliding down the barrier and falling to his knees. He didn't even try to control his sobs of grief that wracked him. He didn't care who might see. He felt lost and hollow inside, like his soul had been ripped out and consumed by the fiend fire that stole the child from him that he had so desperately wanted to call his son. The very best he could hope for was that Eli's death had been mercifully quick, like the death of Derik's unborn child had been.
He felt a presence beside him, vaguely saw the outline of a man standing at his side, but he just didn't care. He stared unseeingly at the flaming house before him. A blanket settled around his shoulders, but he paid it no attention. The house before him shifted, then crumpled into a flaming heap on the ground and Derik lost it entirely. He didn't know know what he was supposed to do or feel. He tried to retreat into himself, but the pain followed relentlessly.
He felt himself being shifted around some, then felt arms slip around him. He had no idea who it was, and he didn't care. He clung to the man as if he were his last lifeline. The man just held him and rocked him gently, letting Derik sob on his shoulder for a seemingly endless amount of time until the tears finally ran out. When he couldn't cry any more, he just remained there, emotionally ravaged and feeling utterly lost.
"I take it they didn't tell you either." The man said softly.
Derik pulled back, looking up at the man incredulously, "Hutchins?" He asked in surprised, feeling vaguely embarrassed, though he couldn't muster much in the way of emotion. He couldn't help but wonder what Hutchins was doing here, and why did he look like he'd been crying as well?
"I should have taken Elijah as soon as his father died." He said softly, "When you showed interest, I'd hoped you would get him... but I should have just come over here and taken him the minute I found out they'd turned you down. I just never thought they would come after him..."
"Why would you want him? You already have a daughter to look after." Derik said, furrowing his brow.
Hutchins dropped his eyes. "His father... Edward... he was a good man. We were close. I should have looked after his son for him. He would have looked after my daughter if it had been me who died. Besides... I owed him that much..." He said, his throat tight.
Now that Derik's own pain had burnt itself down a bit, he could feel Hutchins' pain. It ran deep and burned brighter than Derik would have ever expected, even from best friends. He pushed gently, grazing the surface of Hutchins' thoughts, then withdrew, staring at the man in utter shock. Hutchins had loved Edward Conners! There was no doubt in Derik's mind that they had been lovers for years. It stunned him that they'd been able to keep everyone in their close-knit unit completely in the dark for so long. They had both kept their personal feelings so well guarded that not even Derik himself had suspected. Yes, he could definitely see why Hutchins would have been reluctant to take Eli. Cornfoot was the suspicious type, and from what he knew of the man he had no doubt what would happen if he found out two of his trusted men were doing each other.
Hutchins looked out towards where the house had once stood, though now it was nothing but embers right down to the bedrock. The last traces of fiend fire were guttering out around the edges of the barrier, consuming the very last traces of... well, everything. "I should have known something like this would happen, the way that whore was cozening up to Adrian." he said, an edge of anger working into his voice.
"Who?" Derik asked, confused.
"That filthy little geisha slut Edward was married to." Hutchins said darkly. "A neighbor saw her taking off on a broom loaded down with luggage just moments before the Death Eaters arrived."
"Is there any chance..." Derik started hopefully, but Hutchins quickly shook his head.
"I saw him when I arrived here." Hutchins said gravely, "At an upstairs window. Looked like he was trying to open it. Then he got hit with a spell from behind and fell out of sight. Probably a Death Eater either stunning him or killing him outright to keep him from escaping. I tried to get to him, but I got hit with a curse." He said, reaching around and gingerly rubbing a spot where the cloth was mostly burnt through near his lower back. "By the time I woke back up, the Impermeable barrier was up and the house was engulfed."
Derik ached to his core. He clutched the blanket tighter, gazing out over the newly formed crater the fire had eaten. If Elijah had been unconscious there wasn't even the tiny hope he'd managed to find a way out and was hiding somewhere. The proof was irrefutable. Elijah was dead. It was blatantly obvious. So why did his heart refuse to believe it?
"What happened to you?" Hutchins asked gently.
Derik looked over at him a bit dazedly, still lost within his mind. It took him a minute to comprehend what he was asking. He followed the man's gaze down and realized what a state he was in. The icy lake water had washed away much of the dust and grime from the rubble... but he was shirtless, an angry red welt standing out rather starkly against his pale flesh in a wide swath on his side, another covering almost the entire underside of one of his forearms, and his trousers were ripped here and there, not to mention they still had dark patches of bloodstain the brief immersion had been unable to remove. He reached down, running his fingers over one of the dark patches on his still wet trousers. "Demsky's house is gone too. I was there when they attacked. So were most, if not all, of Demsky's relatives. I imagine they're all dead now. I managed to get out with Jessi... but she died in my arms before I could get her to help." he said, his voice coming out oddly emotionless.
Hutchins let out a pained breath, then reached out, placing a comforting hand on Derik's shoulder. "You did the best you could. You got her out, which is more than anyone could have hoped for. At least she can have a proper burial."
That didn't bring much comfort... he'd been to far too many funerals already. In the past six months alone he'd seen nearly a dozen fellow Aurors laid to rest. He wasn't sure he could do it anymore.
"Do you need help getting back to the school?" Hutchins asked gently.
Derik stirred, realizing he'd just been staring at the space where the house had stood for quite some time. He shook his head. Well, sticking around here was doing him no good... but he couldn't bear the thought of returning to the school. Jessie was there. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing her lifeless body again.
He rose and pulled off the blanket, wincing slightly as the action made him aware of a small wound on his back, undoubtedly from the hole he'd gotten in his wing. He wasn't sure what to do about that since he'd never hurt his wings before, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care. Even the fact that several more people now knew about the wings that he'd kept a carefully guarded secret for so long wasn't enough to stir any kind of emotion in him.
Hutchins put his hand on Derik's shoulder again as he started to walk away. "Are you going to be alright?" He asked gently.
Derik looked at him for a long moment. "No." He replied softly, then he continued on his way, letting the man fade from his thoughts. He didn't even notice the biting cold of the wintery wind, or the ring of gawkers the other Aurors were trying to keep back. He just slipped through the sparse crowd without taking any of it in. Some of them seemed to be speaking to him, but he didn't really hear them. They were just obstacles to dodge. Nothin seemed real anymore. He felt completely disconnected from the world around him.
He wandered along the street, paying no real attention to where he was going. After a while he got the vague sense that he needed to go somewhere... but he didn't know where. He couldn't go back to the school, and he didn't want to be around strangers. For one thing, he was vaguely becoming aware of the stares he was drawing from anyone he passed. He slipped into an alley and Apparated, reappearing in London, in an alley near Imbrium Heights. Technically, you're only allowed to Apparate to either designated Apparation points or private wizarding dwellings or businesses within areas as densely populated as London to avoid Muggle detection... but Imbrium Heights was shielded from external sources, so Apparating in to the building was impossible (though of course one could Apparate out)... and besides, Derik didn't really care about daft little Ministry edicts right now. If he had to walk past his usual bar, which was between his home and the nearest official Apparation point, he was sure he'd go in. Considering his emotional state, and his completely inhuman tolerance for alcohol, that would probably alert more Muggles to the possibility of magic existing than just popping into being in a seldom used alley.
He made his way around to the doors and went in. As he went through the main lobby area a young woman hurried up to him.
"Are you alright, sir?" She asked, noting his half clothed state and his wounds, "We have a healer. I can go fetch her..."
He looked her over. Obviously rather new if she didn't recognize him. She looked no more than perhaps twenty, perky and at the same time obviously a kind soul. Jobs such as this usually attracted her type. She was rather short, petitely built but attractive. The crisp white uniform fit her like a glove, her curly brown hair pinned up neatly beneath her little white hat. She looked him over with concern, obviously very sensitive and eager to please. She also found him attractive. It didn't even take a mind reader to tell that with the way her cheeks flushed. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that it would take him less than five minutes to get into her knickers... and that was if they had to search for a room.
"No, thanks. I'm fine." He lied.
"Oh... ok, if you're sure." She said dubiously, "Well, I can show you where you can get cleaned up... and... um... a bed. A bed where you can sleep tonight." She said, blushing harder.
Already he could see the fantasies forming in her mind, though she tried her best to keep a businesslike demeanor. As absolutely lovely as it would undoubtedly be to hear her pleasant voice crying out in pleasure as he pounded her... he just wasn't in the mood. That realization was quite startling... not to mention a bit disturbing.
"Once again, no, but thank you for the offer. Just passing through." He said, nodding towards the lift doors, barely noticeable in a dimly lit back corner.
She looked, then looked back at him, "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! I'm new here, and I thought..." She trailed off, blushing brightly.
"Not a problem." Derik replied, "I'm sure you're doing a great job, and any other time I'd love to stick around and get to know you better, but..." He trailed off, giving a slight shrug.
"Right. By all means. Don't let me keep you." She said, indicating the elevator, then folding her hands demurely before her.
He tried not to listen to her thoughts as he walked on, then waited for the lift. She was thrilled that he lived here. A little disappointed that she wouldn't be able to 'accidentally' bring extra towels in right when he was getting out of the shower, or show him to his room and hope that he would take advantage of the situation... but if he lived here it made it much more likely he would be around more. And she was really dwelling on the 'get to know you better' part of what he'd said.
By the time the lift arrived, she'd moved on to trying to imagine how big his penis was. He went in and leaned up against the wall, looking out at her. "Bigger than that." He said as the lift doors started to slide shut. He got the briefest glimpse of her startled eyes and the start of a violent blush before the doors sealed behind him. He gazed over at the button panel as it appeared, contemplating the button for his floor. He didn't have anything to do in his own loft. Nothing but drinking and dwelling on what had happened. Drinking alone in the mood he was in wasn't a good idea. Even in his current state he knew that.
His eyes dropped to the button to the next floor down. No, this isn't something he wanted to talk about with Matthias. The man might be more than sympathetic over the loss of Elijah... but he couldn't just not tell him about the baby... and no matter how open minded Matthias was, he was still a religious man, and Derik knew deep down he'd find the fact that Derik had shagged and impregnated a widow so soon after her husband's death objectionable. He'd try to not be bothered by it, but Derik couldn't stand the thought of feeling Matthias' opinion of Derik dropping. Everybody else could go on thinking of Derik as a morally devoid slut, but he couldn't bear the thought of Matthias feeling that way.
Still... Matthias wasn't the only one on that floor that Derik might pay a visit to. He pressed the button and waited patiently as the elevator slid smoothly up. When the lift reached the floor and the doors slid open, he half expected Matthias to be waiting, having 'felt' his approach... but upon reflection he supposed it wasn't that unexpected to be faced with nothing more than an empty corridor. Derik couldn't even feel any emotions inside himself right now, so how could Matthias have felt them?
He left the elevator and started down the hall, contemplating that. The hollowness he felt inside was the problem. He couldn't stand feeling like this... the emptiness. The emotional agony he'd felt at first was almost preferable. Anything would be better than this. He almost felt like he simply didn't exist anymore. He stopped at a door. He knew he should probably reconsider this, but he didn't want to. He knocked, allowing himself no hesitation. He had no worries that these particular 'neighbors' were asleep.
The door opened and a girl who looked perhaps seventeen answered.
"Good evening, Amber." he said evenly.
She smiled upon seeing him, but it faded quickly once she'd gotten a good look at him. She opened her mouth to ask him about it, but he slipped past her to avoid the questions. He followed the sounds of electronic battle into the living room. There were two boys sitting on the floor in front of the wide screen tele, enmeshed in a video game. The older one was just in his boxers. He looked about fifteen, tall and thin, his messy jet black hair contrasting starkly with his alabaster skin. The younger one looked no more than six or seven, slight of frame and fair skinned, though it suited his curly, strawberry blond hair, and was wearing Batman pajamas complete with footies. His hazel eyes were locked on the screen, his small fingers working the controller expertly.
The older boy looked over, his startlingly dark rimmed, pale blue eyes looking Derik over. "What's up?" He asked with concern, his voice low and slightly rough, but in a pleasant way.
"Just thought I'd stop by for dinner. Unless you had plans already." He said, settling down on a large overstuffed chair.
They all grinned brilliantly.
"We were just going to dig something out of the ice box." Amber said, coming over and pounced lightly into the chair with him, straddling him neatly. "But we would never say no to a nice, hot meal..." She said, cuddling up to him. "Care to visit my room first?" She purred, nuzzling up to him.
He forced a little smile, stroking her hair. "Not tonight. Just dinner."
She let out a petulant huff, pouting. "Fine." She said, "But you know I prefer it when you let me feel like I've earned my meal."
"This one's on the house." He insisted, shifting his head to one side.
She shrugged, then shifted closer, taking hold of him.
Derik shivered as he felt her fangs pierce his skin. It didn't hurt really, more like just a little shock. He shut his eyes, his fingers slipping into her hair and pressing her closer, a soft groan escaping him as she started to draw the blood from his veins. After a moment he opened his eyes, looking over and spotting the boys watching her enviously, their own fangs extending at the smell of blood. He released her hair and waved them over, offering them each an arm. The older boy hurried forward, dropping to his knees and taking the offering, sinking his fangs into Derik's forearm without hesitation. Derik couldn't help but smile as the little boy dragged over a stool over, perching himself on it before latching on to Derik's arm.
Derik watched the boy drawing the blood rapturously from his veins. He idly wondered what his son would have looked like. Would he have had curly hair like this innocent looking, lovely little cherub? What color would it have been? How tall would he have grown to be? Would he have been cursed with wings as Derik had? His eyes drifted shut as the painful possibilities drifted away. He didn't know why he'd ever cut himself in the past. He'd wasted so much without even realizing it was wasteful... and it had never been half as effective as this. The pain flowed out of him... and was replaced with an indescribable closeness. Three souls pulsed in time with his... for this one moment joined together as one.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
Derik stirred, shifting his head up and opening his eyes. He quickly shut his eyes again, letting out a groan as the sudden movement made his head spin a bit.
"Drink." Amber prompted.
Derik felt a straw brush his lips and latched onto it, drinking greedily. The juice was a bit overly sweet, but he had no complaints as he felt the sugar energy spreading out from his stomach, reviving him a bit. By the time the loud slurping of the straw pronounced the glass empty, he was starting to feel a bit better. The vague nausea he'd felt upon waking was thankfully gone as well.
"Want some more?"
Derik blinked his eyes open, giving her a little smirk. "What do you think?"
"I'll take that as a yes." Amber said, rising from where she'd been perched on the arm of his chair and strolling gracefully over to their little kitchen. "I'm glad you bound us to only one pint per feeding. As much as I adore you, I'd drain you dry if that blood oath didn't stop me." She said, opening the ice box.
Derik grimaced at the sight of the blood containers in the ice box. "Just make sure you grab the right thing!"
She just chuckled, grabbing the jug of juice. "Don't worry." She said as she poured more juice into the rather large glass, "I wouldn't want to sully your blood with that pap. Your blood... Merlin, it's like everybody else's blood is tofu, and you're prime rib!" She came over, resuming her perch and leaning in for a little kiss before shifting back and holding out the glass, "You spoil us!"
"I'd say you deserve an occasional bit of spoiling." He replied softly, gazing down at the little boy who was curled up against him, fast asleep. He couldn't help but smile when the boy stirred in his sleep, settling a bit and slipping his thumb unconsciously into his mouth.
She looked down at the boy, a little half smile flickering over her lips. "Sorry... you know how Quinlan likes his nap after a good meal." Her smile faded, "I wish I could find the sick bastard who made him!" She muttered under her breath.
"He was a Muggle, Amber." Derik said softly, "He'd probably have died of old age by now if he hadn't been turned."
She gave a little huff. "At least he would have lived first!" She grumbled. "It's bad enough that Reid was trapped into what has to be the most hormonal stage a human male can be in... but this... It just kills me to see Quinlan like this year after year. He's twice my age, and yet he's still... well he's still seven! He just wants to play and do things that little boys want to do. He'll never fall in love, never have children. It's just cruel."
Derik finished his juice and set the glass on the lamp table beside the chair, then reached up, stroking Quinlan's hair. "There's something to be said for being an eternal child. All of those things you feel he's missed out on... he doesn't feel he's missing out on them, because he never wanted them in the first place. He's just a pure and untarnished soul who's wants and needs are simple. He hasn't been complicated by the messy, often painful trials of adulthood. He's never had to deal with a lost relationship, never had to lose his innocence. Never had to deal with losing a child..." He said, his throat tightening a bit. "There are times I truly envy him." he finished softly.
She reached over, stroking his cheek. "Seriously... do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.
He just shook his head.
She sighed. "Well, if it's a guy thing, you can always go talk to Reid. He just went into his room to muck about on his computer so he wouldn't disturb you and Quinlan. It wouldn't kill him to take a break from chatting up that girl in Canada he's always talking to. I keep telling him nothing will come of it, but you know 'teenaged' boys!"
He just flashed her a little smile, "No, thanks. Really." He just slipped his arms around Quinlan, enjoying the feel of holding him. Intellectually he knew this 'child' was older than the other two combined... and easily four times as old as Derik himself... but he still felt like a child. In all of those years, Quinlan had never lost the wonder or the trust and innocence that Derik loved most about children. Of course the 'boy' was an extremely fortunate exception to the rule when it came to vampire 'children'. He'd been sheltered all of his life. First by the vampire who'd sired him, then after he'd run away he was taken in by others who had given him refuge over the years. Few children turned at such a tender young age survived long, and those who did were often forced to become dark, conniving, murderous animals just to survive.
That wouldn't happen to Quinlan though. Not so long as Derik lived, at the very least.
Derik closed his eyes. He shouldn't stay here. As much as he adored Quinlan, he knew he shouldn't be around him for long. Even he knew that his attachment to this 'child' wasn't healthy for him on an emotional level. No matter what he had said to Amber, any time he was allowed to dwell on it, he started feeling just the same as she did. There was a horrible injustice to what had been done to Quinlan... and it made Derik feel wretched because he liked Quinlan the way he was... it made him feel guilty, as if he'd somehow been a conspirator to the atrocity that befallen him, though it had happened long before Derik was even born. He knew it was only his own imaginary issues, but until he'd found a way to work through them, he knew staying there would just compound and build on his already rather serious guilt issues over everything else that had happened that day.
He gave Quinlan a hug, placing a light kiss on his forehead, then gently released him. "I need to be going." He said softly.
She pouted out her bottom lip a bit, but got up and gently gathered Quinlan up. Not willing to wake quite yet, Quinlan just wrapped his legs around her and settled against her shoulder, still sucking away at his thumb.
Derik shifted forward in the chair, then braced himself and rose. She started to move closer to help him when he wavered a bit, but he waved her off. "I got it." He muttered, scrubbing his fingers through his hair and fighting a bit of lightheadedness. It took him a moment to realise the wound on his back wasn't bothering him anymore. He reached back, trying to feel for it.
"Reid fixed you up a bit while you were out." Amber said, guessing what he was checking.
"Ah..." Derik said, noting the wounds on his side and forearm were looking much better as well. They were still pink, but weren't swollen any more and didn't even stand out too much against his pale skin. "Tell him I said thanks."
"Ok." She said, giving him a little nod.
Derik knew he should really go over to Reid's room and thank him in person, but they'd been friends too long. Hunger may go a long way to avert awkward questions, but now that his appetite was sated there was no way Reid would let him get by without giving some kind of explanation.
He made his way out into the hall.
"Come back soon." Amber said, gazing at him with a sad smile, "And not just for dinner."
He flashed her a little smile and nodded, then made his way down the corridor to the lift. He sighed when he saw the level indicator. It was in use, making its way downward. He knew he'd only have to wait a minute for it to free up, but he didn't feel like waiting. His loft was only one floor up, so taking the elevator was kind of silly anyway. He should have no problem with the climb, even with his recent bloodloss. He'd always bounced back well from bloodloss. Maybe it was just from his body adapting to years of cutting... but then he couldn't remember it ever being much of an issue, even when he'd first started.
He made his way over to the stairwell and started winding his way upwards. The wound at his side didn't even twinge, and he was sure that it was more than just the wand Reid had hidden away (that, according to Ministry regulations, he should not be in possession of). Derik had found vampires to be amazingly adept at healing wounds when so inclined. The bite marks they'd made were already little more than slightly pink dots on his skin that he knew would be completely gone within a day or two, and that was purely vampiric healing.
If only the wizarding community was a bit more open to vampires perhaps they would let them become Healers and who knows what kind of advancements they could make in the healing arts? Fat chance, that. The public was just a bunch of scared sheep, unwilling to look past centuries old bias and see the potential improvements in the lots of vampires as well as witches and wizards. Not that the vampires were perfect. They had more than their share of bad seeds who would rather rip out a throat than heal a wound... and of course their 'society', if it could be called such, was even more entrenched in outmoded ways than the Wizarding administration. They had ancient codes and ethics that often led them to make just as blind and atrocious of errors as the wizards. Hell, those three had been running and hiding to stay alive ever since being changed. There was a code against creating vampires too young. Many vampires would even snuff Amber, deeming her too young looking. They wouldn't care that she was really pushing fifty.
By the time he broke out of his musings and looked up, found himself in front of a familiar pair of carved wooden doors. How had he bypassed his floor and made it all the way to the church without noticing? He thought about turning around and going back down, then tossed aside the idea. Maybe his feet had brought him here for a reason. Maybe some time spent in silent contemplation might help.
He went through the doors and made his way towards the front, lost in thought. He stopped suddenly about half way up the aisle and looked over. There was a man draped along a pew on his back, his knees drawn up and hands folded across his stomach as he stared up at the high, vaulted ceiling far above. Derik couldn't believe he'd been too distracted to notice his presence until he was abreast of him. He looked him over, but he didn't look familiar... though considering this was his building, and his 'guests' never had any guests of their own because of the wards and charms guarding the building, this was extremely unusual. His blond hair looked to be about shoulder length, worn loose and not particularly neat. His raggedly worn jeans, military style boots and ancient black t-shirt looked more like the attire of a Muggle teen than a wizard at least Derik's age... though considering Derik's off-duty clothes he guessed he couldn't really say anything.
"Hello." He said, trying to fathom any way a stranger could have gotten in.
"Hey." The man muttered, though there was no enthusiasm in his voice. He didn't even look down from where he was staring to see who was greeting him.
The apathy was also unusual here. If anything, his guest were usually uncomfortably happy to see him (and not just the ones he 'fed' on a somewhat regular basis). It's not that he craved their gratitude, but the complete lack of interest made him increasingly curious.
"I'm Derik Biddles" Derik offered.
"Ya. I know." The man replied in the same tone.
Derik went down the next row, taking a seat sideways on the pew and resting his arm on the back of it as he gazed down at the man, trying desperately to place him. "Have we met?" Derik asked bluntly, deciding tact was getting him nowhere.
The man gave a little, humorless laugh. "Glad to see I'm memorable." he muttered, glancing over at Derik.
"Simon." Derik replied, the memory clicking into place the minute he caught sight of those pewter gray eyes. "I didn't recognize you. You clean up pretty well. Glad to see there wasn't too much scarring." Derik said with a little smile. The last time he'd seen him (and the only time before now for that matter) the man had been a bloody mess (literally). He had a slight crease down his right jawline and a short pink line near the outer edge of his left eye that could very well have been acquired when they'd 'met', but looked otherwise unscathed. It was surprising considering the condition he'd been in last he saw him. Magic really was miraculous.
The man just made a little, indifferent sound, shifting his eyes back up to the ceiling.
"What's it been? A year now? I haven't seen you at any of the gatherings. To be honest, I thought you'd left."
Simon gave a little shrug. "I have nowhere else to go. I can leave if you need the space, though. I do just fine on my own."
"I never said I wanted you to go. You may not be a traditional guest, but you more than deserve to be here." Derik said earnestly, "You're a bit of a legend with some of the other guests. I'm sure they'd love to get to know you."
"Why do you think I keep to myself?" Simon replied. "I can't stand people gushing over me. Everytime I leave my apartment people are all greeting me and wanting to talk and give me presents and such. It's embarrassing."
Derik smiled. "Believe me, I know exactly what you mean. I usually only attend the monthly get-togethers in the basement. They're a mite preoccupied during those, so I can be around them without having to deal with them fawning over me. I missed this last one myself, but we'd all be honored if you'd join us for the next one."
"No, thanks. I'd rather just stay in my apartment." He replied. After a moment he flashed a little rueful smile. "Well, to be honest I'd rather just stay in my apartment and get blitzed out of my mind in front of the widescreen... but the house elves cut me off about six months ago. I only get one little bottle of scotch a week now. Not that it was unexpected. It had to have been getting expensive keeping my liquor cabinet full."
Derik sighed. "They don't cut you off when it gets too expensive. They cut you off if they think it's jeopardizing your health. They're under orders."
Simon looked over at him for a long moment. "I lost my family, my home, the only job I've ever known or wanted, and I'm blacklisted in just about every wizarding community in every country worth living in. You really think I care if I drink myself to death?"
Derik sighed, dropping his eyes. "I don't mind paying for excesses..." He said softly, "But I refuse to finance your death."
"I'm a shitty guest. I know that." Simon replied softly, shifting his eyes back away, "Don't worry, though. If I ever get up the balls, I'll go somewhere else to do it. You've been more than generous and that's a really nice apartment. I won't fuck it up."
Derik sighed deeply, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the pew back. He hadn't realized the man was so bad off. Sure, he'd been in even worse shape emotionally than he was physically when he'd taken him in, but then most of his guests had serious emotional issues when they first arrived. Most of them got over that with time, though. Their neighbors, the tight knit little community he'd built here, usually managed to temper the pain, heal the wounds and rebuild them emotionally. This man had just apparently fallen through the cracks... shutting himself off from the others and refusing all help. It pained him to know this man had been suffering in silence all this time under his very roof without him even realizing. He took a deep breath and shifted his head up, gazing at Simon for a long moment. At length he got up. "Well, I was planning on going down to my loft and get blitzed out of my mind. Care to join me?"
Simon's eyes darted over to him. "I thought you said..."
"One booze-up isn't going to kill you. Besides, I don't like drinking alone. I assure you, my bar is very well stocked. What do you say?"
Simon cracked the smallest of smiles. "Shit... do you even have to ask?" He replied, dropping his boots onto the floor with a loud thunk and getting up.
-0-0-0-
"Last we saw him," Simon said mirthfully, his words only slightly slurred despite the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, "That red-necked bastard was screaming like a little girl, running bare-ass naked down main street, broad daylight, the place packed with shoppers, with 'I'm a dumb mother fucker' written in sharpie marker across his chest, tiny little pecker flapping in the breeze." He said, wriggling the end of his pinky by way of demonstration.
Derik was laughing so hard his eyes were tearing up. "Priceless!" he managed after a moment, barely coherent through his mirth. He was finding Simon surprisingly easy to get along with. Once he'd gotten a little liquor down him, he'd turned out to be quite an interesting conversationalist. The more he talked to him, in fact, the more the man reminded him of himself. Well, the way they dealt with things was about as different as could be, but at heart they seem to hold many of the same beliefs and seemed to agree on pretty much every topic that had come up so far. That was saying quite a bit considering they'd been talking nonstop most of the night, rambling from one subject to the next at seeming random. Derik usually tended to keep himself in the listener role in a conversation, but with Simon he couldn't help but talk far more than usual. He was just so likable, not to mention entertaining! He could hardly believe this man was the sulking, lost, borderline suicidal he'd stumbled across in the church.
Simon snagged up a bottle of scotch off the coffee table that still had a bit in it. He took a deep draught from the bottle, then gazed unseeingly at the mostly empty little collection of bottles they'd gathered. There were three decent sized, completely empty bottles and a fourth smaller bottle with no more than a couple of fingers worth left in it.
Derik was pretty sure he'd accounted for at least two of the empties all by himself as well as a good deal of the scotch, but he was rather impressed with how well Simon was handling his portion. It was easy to tell Simon was nearly wasted (though his previous heavy drinking days had obviously given him a rather respectable tolerance), and even Derik was starting to feel it pretty good. Actually, considering his rather considerable recent bloodloss, he was dead shocked he wasn't completely bolloxed already. Then again, in an attempt to keep the booze-up friendly and long enough to get to know his guest, he'd stuck to 'milder' liquor. Well, it wasn't Firewhiskey at any rate.
"Think I have to hit the head." Derik chuckled, patting his belly. "It's a good thing I don't smoke. I imagine my piss is about a hundred proof by now! I'd hate to have to explain an explosion in my loo!"
Simon snickered and nodded, settling back into the couch.
Derik got up and made his way into the bathroom. He hadn't been kidding about having to go! He felt like he'd lost several kilos by the time he was done. When he went over to the sink and glanced in the mirror above it he realized for the first time just how wretched he still looked. Reid had obviously mopped him up considerably as there were a surprising number of pink marks and lines from wounds he never even realized he'd had, but there were still some bloodstains on his trousers and he was no more cleaned up than the dip in the lake had gotten him. He splashed water over his face and around onto the back of his neck. He wished he could shower, but that seemed like it'd be a bit rude while he had a guest waiting in the other room. He scrubbed a towel over his face, feeling a little bit cleaner at least, then looked at himself in the mirror as he finished drying off. He was almost surprised to find that his eyes were a respectable almost medium purple. Well, they weren't pale like he'd expected them to be anyway.
He made the mistake of letting his gaze drift over, looking himself directly in the eyes. Images assailed him, flashing through his mind in brilliant bursts until he was able to jerk his eyes away. Gods he hated that! It happened every time he stared into his own eyes when he had enough liquor in him to get his guard down. It was a wild barrage of images he knew were of the future. It was just another torture though... images with no context, no words, movement or explanation of what they showed. He never seemed to fully fathom their meaning until they came to pass, so he really didn't see the point of it. Just another sadistic little headfuck his body inflicted on him. He wouldn't even be able to fully process what he'd seen for a while. It was too fast, too sudden, and he had just enough booze in him to make his memory foggy and thoughts sluggish.
He brushed it off, dropping the towel over the bar, then pulling out his wand and giving himself a quick cleaning. He didn't really care much for magical cleansing spells, because he never really felt completely clean until he'd washed properly, but it was much better than nothing. He made his way out, pausing only to grab a white dress shirt out of the clothes hamper and pulled it on, though he didn't bother buttoning it. He stopped by the liquor cabinet for another bottle. Looking over the supply, he didn't see anything that particularly enticed him. After a moment he spotted a large bottle near the back that caught his interest. It was a brilliant, almost electric pink, though it was mostly hidden behind a large gold label. Deciding it was worth a try, he snatched it up.
He went over, plunking back down beside Simon. He looked the man over. His moods seemed to have sobered in Derik's absence.
Simon let his head lall over until he was looking at Derik. "What's the matter?" He asked simply.
Derik blinked in surprise, trying to figure out where that question had come from. "What do you mean?" Derik asked evasively, setting the bottle on the coffee table.
"Why are you getting drunk? What happened?" Simon asked, watching Derik's eyes.
Derik averted his gaze.
"I can tell when I'm being used as a distraction, and this is definitely one of those times. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining and I don't mind being a distraction if it helps... but avoiding issues rarely helps in my experience. Just thought maybe you'd like to try telling me what's really wrong. I don't imagine you regularly walk around dressed like that." He said, indicating the torn and blood stained trousers, "I just thought maybe it'd be more beneficial to just talk about it." Simon stared at him. The silence drew out. Eventually, Simon sighed. "Or just tell me to shut the fuck up, give me another bottle and we can go back to rambling about everything except what's on your mind until we pass out. Either way." He said with a shrug, turning his head back forward.
Derik let out a deep sigh. He'd been avoiding thinking about it, let alone talking about it. Still... in an odd way it helped that he didn't really know this man all that well. For all he knew, he may never see him again. That was both sad and strangely liberating. He knew Simon wouldn't push him... but like it or not, if he didn't find some way to purge all of the guilt and emotions that were churning around inside him just below the surface he was going to do something daft, of that he was certain.
"Are you following the war?" Derik asked at length.
"To be honest, no." Simon said with a little shrug. "I've heard a bit from the Wizarding wireless in my apartment, but I just stopped listening after a while. There's always a war somewhere. If they blow the whole place up, I die. If they don't, it doesn't effect me, so..." he shrugged.
Derik nodded. He hadn't honestly expected him to be up on it. People followed such things mostly out of fear from what he'd seen, and he doubted Simon feared much of anything right now. "Do you know what I do? My job?"
"Yer a cop, right?" Simon asked, furrowing his brow.
Derik gave a smile, but couldn't maintain it. "In a manner of speaking. They call us Aurors here. We often work in units of seven to eight Aurors. This past week, two of the men from my unit were killed. Quite horrifically, actually. One had a son. I tried to adopt him, but I was being blocked. His mother didn't really want him, so I didn't know why she was fighting it... until tonight. Death Eaters killed him and burned his house to the ground." Derik said, his voice emotionally devoid. "She knew it would happen... she flew off before they got there, and now she's in the clear to collect all of her late husband's money without having to deal with raising a child. She let him die for money."
"Shit..." Simon breathed, "Is that what happened to you?"
Derik glanced down at his ruined trousers and his eyes got watery. He shook his head. "I didn't get there until protective barriers were already up to contain the fiend fire they'd set."
"Then what?" Simon prompted gently when Derik didn't continue.
"The other man's wife... I... I had sex with her the night after he died. I'm not particularly proud of it, and I didn't really intend..." He trailed off, his throat tightened a bit. "I was at her house when they came to finish her off. She'd just told me she was pregnant. She was carrying my son. She told me, and then a moment later..." His voice caught in his throat. "I tried to get her out, but she died in my arms. They died..." He said as tears coursed down his cheeks. He scrubbed the tears from his eyes after a moment, huffing at himself angrily. "This is stupid! Eli was never even mine, and I only knew about the baby for like five seconds!"
Simon reached over, resting his hand comfortingly on Derik's shoulder. "It's not stupid. I understand how you feel."
"I don't think anybody understands how I feel." Derik muttered, "I don't even think I understand it."
"Do you think I was always like this?" Simon asked gently.
"What do you mean?" Derik asked, looking over at him. Simon had an unreadable expression on his face. Derik wished he could read him, but Simon's thoughts were different from other people's. More emotive and images than worded thoughts. When he'd first met him, he'd assumed it was just because they'd both been beat to Hell so Derik wasn't exactly at the top of his game, but it was still the same.
"I guess I never told you why I'm this way..." Simon said thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I don't know if I've ever told anyone."
"I'm listening." Derik said, wiping away the last of the dampness from his face. Anything to keep him from dwelling on his own life!
"Back when I was younger... it was great back then." Simon said, staring down into the bottle in his hand, his tone a bit somber, "I did as I pleased, I had a great bunch of friends, I was respected... people listened to me and followed my lead. I took over the family business when I was barely thirteen! That's when my dad died. I was afraid I'd lose everything. I looked older than I was, and we'd kept off the radar enough that the authorities didn't come to collect me at least. Of course most of the team left because they didn't think I could run it, but I'd managed to make some friends who had the right skills and were willing to give it a go. As long as the chain of command is clear, I think it's worlds better working with friends anyway. We started out small, but picked up young talents looking to get into the business and quickly grew into a solid team. By the time I was sixteen we were known all over as the best in the business. People tend to get over the age issue if you can produce results. It was fucking amazing!"
"Sounds like it." Derik said softly, watching his face.
"You know, I used to think there was nothing more pathetic than those guys who peaked in high school and spent the rest of their lives doing nothing but talking about the 'glory days' and wishing they were back there. It's a bit ironic that I turned out to be one of them myself. Well, dad home schooled me and I finished all that high school crap by the time I was like eleven, but the time frame was about right. From about thirteen and a half until I was about seventeen and a half. four years that contain all the joy my life had to offer."
Derik knew he should probably steer the conversation away from the obviously bad subject, or at least offer reassurances or something of the like... but he couldn't tame that bloody curiosity that had become the bane of his existence. Besides, if he'd truly never told anyone this, it was obvious he needed to talk even more than Derik did. "What happened?" He asked softly.
Simon looked over at him for a long moment, obviously debating how much, if anything, he should tell him. At length he sighed, setting the now empty bottle with its mates on the coffee table, then rubbing his face vigorously before slumping back and closing his eyes. "I took in a stray."
"A stray?" Derik asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. He snagged the last of the open bottles that still had a bit in the bottom and handed it to him, hoping it would help.
Simon accepted the bottle, taking a good swig before handing it back. "A kid." He sighed. "Some little abused kid. I took him in and... well I went and let myself get attached... then the fuckin authorities came and took him away. I tried to tell them he was being abused, tried to get him back before something bad could happen to him... they didn't listen. I gave up on getting him back legally pretty quick. I had a bit of his blood, so I started tracking him. I'm not sure what I was planning on doing when I found him... but I never got the chance to find out. I didn't get to him in time."
Derik felt an aching pain in his chest he wasn't sure was entirely his own. It was pretty clear what Simon was implying happened, but he couldn't let it go. "Are you sure he...?"
Simon let out a little breath. "I never found a body, if that's what you're asking. I didn't really expect to... though that didn't keep me from searching for a couple of weeks. He was taken out to sea, probably on some boat, then nothing. The trail just disappeared. The only thing that stops a blood trace is death. Even if he was hidden by a Fidelius charm there would be something. It wouldn't point me in the right direction of course, but it would still be active. Nearest I can figure, he probably just got chucked overboard. All I can hope is that they finished him or at least rendered him unconscious before dropping him in the ocean. I can't tell you how many nights I've dreamed about him floating there, all alone in the middle of the ocean... drowning slowly, completely terrified... calling out for me and wondering why I never came for him... Maybe he got eaten by sharks... that would have been horrible, but probably better than a lingering death."
Derik's eyes teared up a bit in sympathetic horror. As terrible as the knowledge of Eli's death was... he couldn't deny it had helped a little when Hutchins told him Eli had already been unconscious or dead before the fire got to him. The images he'd had of Eli shrieking in agony as the fire consumed him... they had been beyond his ability to deal with. At least this way he was reasonably reassured that the boy hadn't suffered unduly.
"I just walked out on my whole life after that." Simon sighed sadly, "Left the business to one of my friends... and my home as well since we all lived in our base of command. I couldn't do my job anymore. I'd lost the will. I couldn't drag the whole team down with me. The work we did was too important." He sniffled a bit, gazing off into the distance.
Derik reached over and put his arm around Simon comfortingly. He couldn't help it. It didn't matter that he couldn't hear Simon's thoughts... the pain he felt welling within him was all too familiar.
"He wasn't even my kid." Simon said softly, "I barely even had the chance to get to know him. That's why I know exactly where you're coming from. We're both mourning the loss of our children. Genetics and brevity of the time we were given with them should never be allowed to cheapen that."
Derik just nodded his agreement, unable to muster words.
Simon took a pained breath, shifting closer and resting his head on Derik's shoulder, though he stubbornly denied the tears that obviously burned to be released. Derik put his other arm around him, holding the man tightly. The fresh pain of the loss of Eli and the baby that he'd been trying to bury was bubbling to the surface. He'd only had moments with the knowledge the baby existed, hadn't even got to set eyes on it and yet the loss tore profoundly at his heart. He may have only known for moments... but when that baby died, a whole lifetime of possibilities had been stolen from him.
After a few minutes, Derik couldn't stand it anymore. Simon's pain was feeding his own and increasing it until it was nearly unbearable. He pulled his arms from around Simon and shifted away, taking a deep breath and trying to push the pain back down. He forced a smile as Simon looked at him.
"Scotch obviously doesn't agree with us. Let's try something else, shall we?" Derik asked as lightly as he could manage, grabbing the new bottle back up.
"What's that?" Simon asked, eyeing the bottle and obviously trying to pretend he hadn't just broken down a bit.
"To be honest, I have no idea. My house elves get whatever looks good on the market. This must be new. 'Aussie Reserve'. I thought it sounded kinda fitting considering where we met." Derik said with a wane smile. He shifted it around in his hands, noticing a note of some kind on the side. "Wow. You don't see that very often. This says it's for use in the Magical Community only, not to be sold to Muggles. It must be magically made or something. I know it's a pretty gaudy pink, but you wanna give it a try anyway?"
Simon gave a shrug, running his fingers back through his hair. "Sure." He said in a tone that made it clear he couldn't care less what color it was as long as it was liquor.
"Alright then." Derik said, pulling over the glasses he'd gotten out when they first sat down. Needless to say, they'd both been eager enough for a drink that they hadn't gotten used yet. Still, this looked classy enough to forgo the usual swigging from the bottle. He looked the top of the bottle over. It looked like a sealed cork of some kind. He yanked on it, but it wouldn't budge. After a moment he noticed the small pictogram of a hand, with an arrow going from the thumb to the outline of a circle just below the cork. He placed his thumb on the circle and the cork flew off with a startlingly loud pop, but luckily the bottle didn't overflow. Quickly getting over his surprise, he poured some into the waiting glasses. It wasn't until then that he realized the bottle was clear... it was the liquor that was bright pink!
He handed Simon a glass, then took his, swirling it a bit. Well, at least it wasn't glittery or anything. When he sniffed it, he caught a hint of something familiar in the smell, but couldn't seem to place it. He glanced over at Simon, noting that he'd already taken a respectable gulp of his drink. He looked slightly puzzled as he contemplated it.
Well, it didn't look as if it tasted bad at any rate. Derik took a healthy swig. It was almost buttery, like a buttered rum, smooth and soothing like sucking on a good hard candy... but then... well that was odd, the aftertaste was almost like lemon. He took another drink, trying to pin down the flavor. He blinked in surprise. It tasted like chocolate!
"Is that hazelnut?" Simon asked curiously.
Derik grinned. "Guess it isn't too hard to tell what the magical property of this is. It changes flavor. Not bad, whatever it tastes like. Actually, it reminds me of something I had in Australia..." He quickly shied from the memories that stirred, forcing a smile. "At least it doesn't burn the throat like that first bottle of rotgut we had."
Simon nodded, but was too busy contemplating another sip to answer.
They settled back in companionable silence, broken only by periodic mentions of the current flavor each were tasting. It was pretty amazing in its variety actually. All manner of berries, fruits, candies, confections... pretty much any flavor they had a fancy for. Never once did either of them come across an objectionable flavor. It was like Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans without the bad ones. Even as he thought that, Derik couldn't help but giggle when the flavor of fresh green grass flowed over his tongue. It had always been his favorite jelly bean flavor. Hearing himself giggle brought something to Derik's attention, though it took a while for him to comprehend. He was completely and utterly wasted!
"Bloody Hell!" Derik said, highly amused, but studiously trying to keep himself from giggling again. "It feels like I just downed a couple bottles of firewhiskey! How bloody strong is this shite?"
Simon picked up the bottle, which was oddly nearly empty, and looked it over, squinting a bit as if having to force his eyes to focus. "Shit!" He said with an amused sound dangerously close to a giggle, "It has a warning on the back! It says to drink in moderation, no more than eight fluid ounces per person per day."
Derik snickered. "Oops!"
"Well, that's stupid as Hell!" Simon said, shaking his head. "They give the limit in ounces, but the contents of the bottle is in millimeters. I mean liters. Whatever the fuck 'ml' stands for. How many ounces in 1800 ml?"
Derik shrugged. "Hell if I know. You know, this shite sounds too dangerous to have lying around. Let's finish the bottle so we can be rid of it!"
"That's what I'm talkin about!" Simon cheered merrily, carefully dividing the remainder into their glasses.
They polished off the rest with relish. Derik closed his eyes to better appreciate the last mouthful, setting the glass distractedly on the side table. He didn't get it quite all the way on there and heard it fall onto the carpet with a dull thunk, but he didn't care. He heard Simon set his glass down as well (and with greater accuracy from the sound of it), then felt the couch shift and Simon slumped against his shoulder.
"That was some awesome shit!" Simon sighed happily.
"Definitely." Derik replied, feeling like his mind was barely attached to his body. He couldn't remember ever feeling this far gone before. Then again, he couldn't remember or think of anything much right now.
"Damn. You're soaked." Simon muttered, plucking at Derik's shirt.
Derik opened his eyes, looking down and noting his shirt was, indeed, rather wet. He reached up, feeling the way his hair was matted around his face. He somehow hadn't even noticed how hot the room seemed to be. Must be something wrong with the thermostat, because Simon was sweating too. Simon was apparently becoming aware of that fact as well. He shifted up, tugging his sodden t-shirt off and tossing it aside before slumping back down.
Derik's eyes slid down him. Apparently he wasn't the only one who liked body art. He reached over, brushing his fingers over the stark black tattoo that flowed across Simon's stomach. "Nice..." he breathed appreciatively.
Simon gave a little amused sound. "Most people notice the scars first."
Derik blinked, trailing his eyes up in search of the scars. Well, they were pretty hard to miss once he spotted them. There were four ragged, yet parallel, lines running from one shoulder across his chest nearly all the way to the other side.
"Werewolf, of course. That one didn't get his teeth in me, but his claws nearly ended me just the same. They're usually just pale lines..." He mused, running his fingers over the rather pronounced pink marks.
"Heat does that to mine too." Derik commented, pulling his shirt open. "I can't hide much when I'm flush."
"Nice collection." Simon mused with a grin, looking over the numerous scars scattered across his chest. He reached over, brushing his fingers across one that ran along his ribcage, disappearing around his side.
Derik felt a sudden tingling where Simon's fingers touched his skin as his insides instantly started feeling decidedly odd. He realized with a sudden jar that the simple touch was stirring desire in him. He pulled himself back mentally, trying to assess his situation... but that was hard with his cognitive processes in the state they were in. Was this desire coming from the alcohol? He tried to remember back to when he first met Simon. He'd been in a particularly despicable bar in Australia. In truth, he'd stopped in there to get pissed out of his mind and maybe get into a fight. It was the night after he'd nearly killed his fiancé's brother. He'd been borderline suicidal and quite frankly in desperate need of a good beating. He'd gotten a bit more than he'd bargained for. Well, he'd gotten kaylied, and a number of men had been more than happy to beat the living shite out of him, but they'd been disinclined to stop there. The instant he saw that knife and the look in the man's eyes he knew he was dead. It wasn't until then that he realized he didn't really want to die... but he was too far gone to prevent it. He'd passed out, sure that it would be seconds at most until he meet his maker... and woken up in his own hotel room. Simon was there in his bathroom, washing the blood from his battered face. He'd apparently stepped in and fought off the men, then carried him out of there. He'd found Derik's hotel key in his pocket and Apparated them both to it. Derik suspected that Simon had gone into that bar for the same reasons Derik had... but he'd saved Derik's life and no matter what the reasoning behind it was, Derik owed him a Wizard's debt for it. Not that Simon agreed on that point. He'd steadfastly refused to acknowledge that a debt existed.
Derik examined his feelings, slowly realising that he'd felt the man was a kindred spirit... they were both emotionally wounded and lost in this world... and he'd felt drawn to him. Even when Simon had been beaten bloody and, quite frankly, rather unappealing in appearance, Derik suddenly realized he'd been attracted to him. He'd used the Wizard's debt as the reason why he offered this man a home... but it was this fascination that truly motivated it. It was probably also why he'd let the man retreat into his new home and keep himself apart. Why he hadn't made the effort to draw him out and get to know him better. He'd been unconsciously afraid of how this man made him feel.
Simon's fingers brushed his skin again and Derik suddenly realized he'd unwittingly gotten himself into very dangerous territory. He should never have allowed himself get into a situation where he'd be tempted by another man. Lucius wasn't exactly the forgiving type! Derik liked this man and couldn't stand the thought of something happening to him just because Derik had been stupid. He had to find a way to get him out without hurting the man's feelings.
Simon shifted closer, brushing the shirt off Derik's shoulder and trying to see his back, obviously having noticed Derik's large back tattoo earlier but not gotten a good look at it. Derik trained his eyes on the coffee table, making no move to relinquish the shirt. Simon made a little amused sound, tugging on his shirt playfully. "I showed you mine..."
"I should probably get some sleep." Derik said, unable to force his voice much higher than a whisper.
"Did I do something wrong?" Simon asked.
Derik's chest ached at the sadness in that question. He could almost hear him pulling back into his shell. He turned his head and looked at him, surprised to find him so very near. Simon's face was just a couple of hand spans from his own, those dark eyes searching his for answers. Derik opened his mouth to reply, but found himself unable to. What could he say? His mind was so mired down by the alcohol haze that filled it that he found himself unable to come up with a single plausible lie to get himself out of this situation. He couldn't help but notice the damp lock of hair that had fallen over one of Simon's eyes. He barely caught himself, pushing his hand firmly back down to his side when it tried to reach over to brush the lock away.
Simon's eyes were drawn to the movement. After a moment, they drifted back up, staring searchingly into Derik's eyes once more.
"Um... no. It was nothing you did or said." Derik said quickly, trying to distract the man before he could ask questions Derik didn't have answers for. "I just... really need to go to bed. I have stuff I need to do tomorrow... I'm teaching right now, and I have to teach classes tomorrow, and..." He trailed off, a trill of alarm going through him as Simon shifted slowly but purposefully closer.
"It's ok," Simon said, his voice low with desire, "I feel it too."
Derik's mind told him to move away, but his hormones overruled it. Their lips met and all thought left him. He found himself kissing Simon back, all reluctance swept away by a wave of pure, unbridled desire. He let his shirt be pulled off, then twined the fingers of one hand in Simon's hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss still more. Simon pushed against him and they slid down to the side. The feel of his hot flesh pressed against Derik's was mind blowing. He'd never felt this aroused by a male in his life. The attraction he'd felt for Lucius had seemed so strong... but at the moment it felt like a silly schoolboy crush in comparison.
The way Simon was shifting around and pressing against him was amazing. His movement quelled after a moment, but the desire Derik could feel flowing through him only increased. Of course he didn't really realize what Simon had been doing until he slipped his hand down further and discovered he had removed his trousers. God this man had an incredible arse!
Simon broke the kiss. "I've never even seriously thought about fucking a guy before." he muttered with amusement as he shifted up a bit so he could work on the fastenings to Derik's trousers.
Derik glanced down, unable to resist getting a glimpse, then quickly darted his eyes back away. "Maybe it's just the liquor then." Derik panted a bit desperately. He knew he had to get out of this somehow... but he wanted it so desperately he couldn't get his body to do anything to stop it. "Maybe we'll think better of it when this wears off. We should wait and see if we still feel the same way sober before doing anything."
Simon gave a little amused sound. "Why wait? If we regrete it in the morning, oh well." He shifted closer, reaching up and forcing Derik's head over so they were staring into each others eyes from mere inches away. "I haven't felt this... haven't wanted anyone for about eight years now. Eight fuckin years! So I don't care if you're male, female or a fuckin inflatable doll, I don't want to wait and see if this feeling goes away. If it does I may never feel it again!" He watched Derik's eyes, seeing the indecision warring in them. "Fine." he breathed, "If you can honestly tell me you don't want me just as bad, I'll get dressed and leave."
Derik braced himself, trying to pool his reserves and force himself to say what his body was vehemently denying. He closed his eyes, unable to think while watching him. Bloody Hell was this man hung! He wasn't Goyle's equal (thank God!), but he was a lot bigger than most of the other men he'd seen naked. He had to be at least twelve inches and uncut. Why couldn't Derik excise that bloody brilliant image from his mind?
Simon was apparently unwilling to wait patiently and fight fair. Before Derik had mustered the will to speak and call this to an end, he felt Simon's hand slip down into his trousers. A completely unexpected thrill of pleasure washed through him as Simon grasped him. Derik let out a gasp, then shifted around, trying to see down between them. Simon obligingly shifted up, pulling Derik's trousers open a bit more and releasing him from their confines. Derik stared in shock, unable to believe what he saw. "I'm hard..." he said in wonder.
"Hard as a rock." Simon agreed with a wicked grin.
"I've never gotten hard with a man before." Derik said, still unable to believe it. Was it the liquor? Simon gave it a stroke and Derik shuddered with pleasure and desire. His mind was in utter turmoil. He couldn't help but think that he'd be a completely inconsiderate prick if he just tossed Simon out on his ear. If it had truly been eight years since he'd been with anyone... was that even physically possible? How could one possibly survive that? Hell, Derik wasn't sure he could make it eight days! The very least he could do is make him feel good and hope his desire for more passed once he'd gotten off.
A course of action decided on (no matter how incredibly flimsy the premise), Derik opened his eyes and reached out, pushing Simon back on the couch. Simon let him, seeing the look in Derik's eyes. Seeing that foreplay wasn't required, Derik wasted no time.
Simon let out a deep groan of pleasure, settling back. He shifted the large throw pillow behind him so he could watch, then twined his fingers in Derik's hair and pushed his hips up encouragingly. "Holy fuck..." He sighed blissfully after a few minutes. "Why are guys so much better at giving head?"
Derik opened his eyes and glanced up at him curiously, though he didn't stop.
Simon caught the look and smiled. "Had a gay friend back in the day who had a bit of a crush on me. I let him blow me a couple of times, but we both knew it'd never go further than that." He let out a deep groan, shutting his eyes and tightening his hold on Derik's hair, "He had nothing on you, though."
Derik was vaguely amused to be told he was better than a gay man... especially since he didn't really get much practice at this. Perhaps the friend had just begun exploring at the time. All such thoughts fled as Simon started panting and pushing up. It was easy to tell he was on the verge. Simon suddenly cried out loudly, holding Derik's hair almost painfully tight as he crashed over the edge. Derik rode it out, a bit dazed by the overflow of pleasure that washed through him. It was obvious the man had been telling the truth about how long it had been since he'd last had sex. He'd never felt so much pent up desire in one person.
It took Derik a moment to clear his head after that. When he was finally able to focus again, he looked up at Simon. He'd always loved the sight of someone who'd just had a good orgasm. Their skin all flush and sweaty... their body completely lax as they lay there panting. Their face was always so open. It was like seeing them in their purest, most honest state. No matter who they were or how they acted the rest of the time... in this moment they were innocent. In this moment there could be no lies. Simon opened his eyes and gazed down at Derik. Whether it was caused by the alcohol or not, the desire in Simon's eyes was genuine and sincere. It was a desire Derik found he could not bring himself to deny.
He moved up Simon's body, having to try very hard to keep from kissing his way up. He knew his own resistance had fled... his last recourse was honesty. "Simon..." he said, though his throat made the word soft and full of longing.
Simon wrapped his arms around him and started snogging him without further prompting.
Derik was a bit surprised. In his rather limited experience, males usually didn't like to kiss you after you'd gone down on them. Simon didn't seem to mind tasting himself on Derik's tongue. He reached down, trying to shove Derik's trousers down out of the way. Derik managed to break the kiss. "Wait, Simon." he panted, having to force the words out. "Listen, I'm kind of seeing someone... and he's the really possessive type..."
Simon looked at him for a moment, then asked, "Do you love him?"
Derik sighed. "I... I don't think so... but that's not the point."
"That's all the information I require." Simon said in a slightly teasing voice as he resumed trying to divest Derik of the remainder of his clothing.
"You don't understand!" Derik said, grabbing Simon's hands and pinning them down. "If I go any further I'll be risking your life. If he ever found out I was with another man and got a hold of you, he'd kill you."
Simon watched his eyes for a moment. "Would he kill you?"
"I... I don't think so. No." Derik replied, omitting the fact that he'd probably get the mother of all beatings.
"Then I don't see the problem." Simon replied, shifting his head up and trying to recapture Derik's lips.
Derik avoided him, "I'm serious! He's a sadistic bastard! And I was being completely literal about the killing you part."
"Ya, I kinda assumed you weren't lying to me." Simon said with a little smile. "But as long as he waits until tomorrow to do the killing, I don't care. Look at me, Derik! Do you really think I give a shit if I die? I haven't had any reason to live in longer than I care to remember. Being with you... this is the first time I've felt anything in a long time. I'd gladly make this my last night on Earth if I could spend it with you... if I could just feel something. I just... I want to fuck you. Is that so much to ask?"
God! How could he deny that? He'd never had someone who was willing to die just to be with him. He found himself snogging Simon hungrily once more, working his arms around him and pulling him up close. Simon's every touch was enough to make Derik's head spin. The way he stroked his skin as he pressed up against him was almost too much to bear. He was so absorbed in the feel of Simon's body against him he didn't even realize where Simon's hand had wandered until it was too late. Simon stroked his fingers down Derik's spine firmly and Derik' back arched as he felt a rush of release. The sudden gust chilled his sweaty flesh, but he barely noticed it. He'd felt Simon's body tense beneath him. He opened his eyes, seeing Simon staring wide-eyed at the large set of wings that had sprung from Derik's back. Derik's cheeks flushed as he suddenly realized that Simon hadn't known. He'd never spoken to his neighbors or been to the forest in the basement during the gatherings when Derik let himself be seen. He watched tensely, fearing Simon's reaction.
Simon just stared in disbelief for a long moment, then reached up, feeling the warm, thin membranes of the wings. He then reached around, stroking his hand down Derik's spine until he reached the base of the long, thin tail that had sprouted there.
"I'm sorry!" Derik blurted a bit desperately, "I can put them away!" He hadn't wanted this to begin with, and he knew there were a million reasons why he shouldn't go any further... but for some reason all he felt at that moment was fear that Simon would change his mind and leave.
"Hell no!" Simon said immediately with a little laugh that sounded almost giddy with surprise, "When I said I wanted you, I meant all of you. Don't hide anything!" He said, his voice completely unhesitant and sincere. Simon then reached up and grabbed Derik's head, pulling him back down and snogging him almost desperately.
Derik shuddered and groaned into the kiss as Simon's fingers rubbed between his wings. It was so very rare he let his wings and tail show at all... and he'd certainly never been touched like this with them out. The way Simon was rubbing him made him feel feverish with desire. Sure his back had always been sensitive... Hell, Snape's little massage had very nearly been his undoing... but now... Simon's touch was stirring pleasure and lust in him unlike anything he'd experienced before. Every other thought and worry was fleeing his mind, leaving behind nothing but this desperate need.
He wasn't very experienced with using his tail, but considering he couldn't bring himself to take his hands off of Simon at the moment he had no other option. This wasn't the first time he'd mucked about on the couch (though, of course, it was the first time with a male), and he had some supplies at hand. He managed to work the end table drawer open, then had to break the lovely snogging session to look back and see what he was riffling through. It didn't help his concentrating when Simon took the opportunity to attack his neck, kissing and nipping at it in a thoroughly distracting way. After a bit of fumbling, Derik managed to wrap the spade of his tail around the small bottle of massage oil. It wasn't perfect, but it was all he had.
Simon spotted it as Derik's tail brought it over and nabbed it. "Get those pants off." He said as he withdrew his other arm so he could open the bottle up. Derik struggled out of the trousers. They'd been halfway down already, (which was lucky considering the appearance of his tail would have been very inconvenient with them all the way up) but it still seemed to take too long to get them off. He barely had time to toss them aside before Simon pulled him back close, snogging him with renewed passion. Derik had always considered himself a pretty exceptional kisser (based on many rave reviews), but Simon had a way with his tongue that made his head spin.
Derik suddenly found himself turned around. He panted for breath and tried to shift his wings so they wouldn't be in the way, his insides fluttering with a mixture of desire and apprehension. He couldn't help but remember how big this man was! He braced himself as Simon set aside the bottle. It was obvious when he took a hold of Derik that he was eager, but rather inexperienced with this kind of sex. Derik let out a little cry, making Simon freeze.
"Am I hurting you?" Simon asked.
"No." Derik lied quickly. Yes, it hurt, but in a way Derik found absolutely amazing. Still, he really didn't want to have to explain his twisted little pain fetish right now. He wrapped his tail around Simon's waist, using it to pull him closer to get him to stop worrying about it.
Derik bit his lip to keep from crying out as Simon finished working his way in. Once things got a bit easier, Simon didn't hold back. Derik had worried his tail would get in the way, but it was surprisingly versatile. It didn't even cause problems when Simon shifted down more. He pressed himself against Derik's back, his arms slipping around him to hold Derik tightly to him as he took him hard and fast.
Derik shuddered with blinding pleasure. He'd never been shagged with such enthusiasm! Every fervent thrust felt like it drove straight into the core of his being, an exquisite jolt of both pleasure and pain. He couldn't help but cry out in pleasure as Simon nipped at the back of his neck, his chest rubbing up against the most sensitive parts of Derik's back.
How Simon kept up such a fervent pace for so long was beyond Derik's comprehension. Perhaps this is just what you got from years of self imposed celibacy. Whatever the cause, Derik was on the verge of passing out by the time Simon finally finished. He slammed into Derik, convulsing with pleasure as his teeth clamped down hard on the the skin of Derik's shoulder near the base of his neck.
Derik was gasping desperately for breath, everything a bit gray around the edges as they slowly came back down.
"Holy shit..." Simon panted against him. "That was fucking amazing!"
Derik grinned, still panting. "Ya." Was all he could manage. At least the gray had receded and he was fairly certain he could retain consciousness a bit longer.
After another minute of rest, Simon took hold of the back of the couch, using it to help lever him up off of Derik. Derik shuddered as Simon pulled himself out of him, then he shifted a bit, letting himself collapse down onto his side on the couch. Both his muscles and his bones were complaining from the serious hammering he'd just been through, but he didn't care. It had been utterly fantastic!
"Shit... I think you're bleeding some. Is that supposed to happen?" Simon asked with concern.
Derik chuckled, "At your size? Probably." He said, "I'm not sure I'll ever walk again after that!" He blinked his eyes open after a moment when he'd gotten no response. Simon was watching him with concern. "I'm joking." He clarified. Well, at least he was pretty sure he was joking. He didn't feel like getting up and testing it right now.
Simon just nodded, averting his eyes.
Derik sighed, "It was incredible. Really." He assured him.
"You didn't even finish." Simon observed.
Derik glanced down, realizing with a bit of surprise that he was still achingly hard. How he was able to have felt that incredibly good for that long without popping off half a dozen times he had no clue. "Oh... well, to be honest I've never had an orgasm with a man, so I wasn't really expecting to. It's ok. I'm sure it'll go away in a bit."
Simon looked a bit disconcerted. He covered by casting some cleansing spells, cleaning them both up. He even cast a healing spell on Derik to help take care of whatever damage he might have done.
When he was done, Derik shifted up, slipping his arm around his waist and pulling him close. "It was wonderful. Honestly!" He murmured, claiming Simon's lips. It took a bit of coaxing, but Simon eventually loosened back up. He shifted back a bit, pulling Derik down on top of him and they enjoyed another rather lovely snogging session.
After a few minutes Derik broke the kiss, looking down in surprise as he felt Simon oiling him up. He looked back up at Simon, but Simon was just giving him an adorably nervous smile.
"Just remember this is my first time." He said, trying to make his voice sound confident. He set the bottle back on the coffee table and shifted around a bit beneath Derik.
"You don't have to do this!" Derik said quickly.
Simon smiled at him. "But I want to. I've never fucked someone and left them unsatisfied, and I don't intend to start now just because you're a guy. So just shut up and fuck me already, cause I doubt I'm quite gone enough to suck you off." He finished with a slightly teasing tone.
Derik was stunned beyond words. He'd assumed Simon would be strictly a top. He'd always struck Derik as being the dominant type. Not that he acted macho or overbearing, but there was just a kind of presence about him. Like if he entered a room, it would automatically feel like he was in charge, even if he was slouching back in the corner, unkempt and wearing tatty clothes (which he usually was).
"Um... should I turn over or something?" Simon asked uncertainly.
Derik shook his head. "No. You're fine." He shifted Simon's legs up a bit, still feeling a bit dazed. He'd never thought he'd be doing this. Sure, he'd shagged a couple of girls in the arse when they'd wanted him to, but he'd never really cared for it much. As he gazed down at Simon... who gazed back up at him with nervous anticipation, but also complete trust in his eyes, he couldn't help but think that was about to change.
He watched Simon's face carefully, taking his time to make sure he didn't hurt him. Despite it being Simon's 'first time', he managed to loosen up enough so he barely winced when Derik entered him. Before long, Derik found himself lost in the rapture that was Simon. It wasn't just the physical pleasure... his body thrust away, but he wasn't even consciously controlling it. He lost himself in Simon's lips and tongue... in the feeling of Simon's hands as they stroked down his spine, sending magical shivers through him. It was somehow completely different than when he shagged women. Though he didn't care to admit it, thoughts and fantasies of impregnating the woman he was with were always in the back of his mind when shagging them. Imagining his child growing in their bellies... of course that wasn't a possibility with Simon, so it never entered his mind. There was nothing in his thoughts but the giving and receiving of pleasure. It was liberating in a strange way.
He could feel the pleasure in Simon's mind, never for a moment doubting he was enjoying this as well. He shivered as Simon rubbed the base of his wings. He'd never been with anyone like this... and yet Simon accepted his true form without a single qualm. Instead of finding the wings frightening or off-putting, Simon almost seemed to find them comforting. That was a puzzle, but one Derik didn't feel like delving into at the moment. It didn't really matter anyway, so long as Simon accepted him this way.
Derik panted, pushing harder as he became aware of how quickly the pleasure was escalating. His attention focused, pulling out of the pleasured haze it had slipped into. A wild rush took him by surprise. He gave a couple more furtive thrusts, then tensed, latching his teeth onto the side of Simon's neck. Simon cried out, arching up against him as heat suddenly spread across his belly.
They stay like that, pressed together and panting for breath for a time. After their hearts finally started slowing back down a bit, Simon let out a little chuckle, hugging Derik to him as he shifted his legs back down a bit. "That was a lot better than I expected it to be."
"Ya." Derik panted. He was still in shock that he'd been able to accomplish it. Maybe he was finally over his little mental block!
Simon nuzzled up to him and Derik shivered as his tongue played over Derik's salty skin. Simon obviously noticed the reaction as he continued, flicking his tongue affectionately along Derik's jugular. Simon's arms around him felt so utterly right that, for the moment at least, his troubles and pain seemed very far away. Derik smiled and closed his eyes, holding Simon close and feeling more content than he could ever remember feeling.
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A/N - And thus (finally) ends Sunday, October 6th. The title of the chapter is a Latin word for the loss of a child or children (according to the online translators at least). Ok, just wanted to say not to get used to such quick updates. I had this chapter almost finished before I even finished the last chapter. I had gotten hung up on a part in the last chapter that I was having a hard time writing, so I wrote ahead a bit rather than just sit there and stare at the screen and try to force the stubborn scene out. Yes, I chose not to follow Snape and Hermione, to show how she ended up in his room or what they were doing while there. I decided to leave that up to your imaginations. I know many won't like that I left it out, but my muse was focused elsewhere and wasn't in the mood. Please review! Though, as always, if you don't have anything nice to say, keep it to yourself :) Not insisting on flattery, I just don't want to have to deal with flames or overly critical nit-pickers. It's hard enough for me to write without reviews to cheer me up and spur me on... a bad one can kill the desire to write quite nicely. My muse is fickle and easily insulted, so please don't piss her off.
