Legend
Chapter I: Visions
by Marie McKinnon
~His hand went out automatically. It was drawn to the beautiful pale skin and ran up the
side of the leg, past the shorts, up the side, and along the clear line of the chin, which he held for
a moment, hands trembling, before the fire burning in his skin became unbearable and he had to
pull away. Being in contact with the person had burned and tingled, but it pained him to be
separated. His silvery bangs fell into his eyes as he looked down, trying to collect his feelings.
The face of the other person, the most appealing girl he'd ever seen, was blank. No facial
features could tell him who it was. He wanted so much to hold her until he was consumed in fire
that the extended limb trembled with his desire. Before his fingers brushed the surface of the
visible perfection, it evanesced. Left alone, the hand remained outstretched for a second, then
fell lifelessly to his side.
"If I gave you the stars, what would you give me in return?" He heard himself ask the air,
not expecting a reply.
The answering voice resonated through him until he could feel the timbres of it. "I think
you know what I can promise you--sensations you are only dimly aware of--ecstasy, mounting,
growing, swelling, bursting, endless and no satiety, no end until you know the crucifixion of
love, and scream for the cross, and help to drive the nails while every nerve, every white writhing
nerve, joins the demonic and whips itself to a rage of exulting and raging passion. You lick your
lips. You think you know. What you know is only a whisper beside the pandemonium I promise
you."
All of the hairs on the back of Draco's neck were up. He shivered at the deep
reverberations of the voice, the yearning it woke in him, and how he longed to meet the owner of
that voice. If only the owner of the voice and the owner of the perfect body were the same, and
had a face the like to rival a goddess... He trembled at the idea.~
Draco shot up in bed, writhing at the desire he felt coursing through his veins. He wanted
her. He had to have her. No matter what it took, he would find her and make her his.
Another feeling raced with his blood. It was alien, but tingled with the air of magic. He
knew it was more important than the girl, but his every thought was for her and what the brush of
her skin against his would be like. Or better, what her lips would taste like, and how he would
react to her heat crushed against him. He looked at his hand, remembering the slow manner in
which it had traced her outline, and smothered a yelp. It was glowing with a silvery sheen he'd
never before noticed. As he watched, the light receded into his skin, then vanished, as though it
had become part of him.
Hours later he fell asleep, still pondering over where the words had come from and what
the strange glow had been. Of one thing he was certain, and that was that the reply to his
question had not been instantaneously created. Once he found someone who knew those words,
he could easily snare his prize.
Disclaimer: I completely disclaim this. I can't stop rereading and writing this story, but
don't want it. Okay, so I do want it, but don't yell at me. It gets better, I promise. This was a
short one, but the next is longer. For that matter, the next chapter contains: a run in in the
Gryffindor common room and a fiery redhead showing exactly what power means.
Chapter I: Visions
by Marie McKinnon
~His hand went out automatically. It was drawn to the beautiful pale skin and ran up the
side of the leg, past the shorts, up the side, and along the clear line of the chin, which he held for
a moment, hands trembling, before the fire burning in his skin became unbearable and he had to
pull away. Being in contact with the person had burned and tingled, but it pained him to be
separated. His silvery bangs fell into his eyes as he looked down, trying to collect his feelings.
The face of the other person, the most appealing girl he'd ever seen, was blank. No facial
features could tell him who it was. He wanted so much to hold her until he was consumed in fire
that the extended limb trembled with his desire. Before his fingers brushed the surface of the
visible perfection, it evanesced. Left alone, the hand remained outstretched for a second, then
fell lifelessly to his side.
"If I gave you the stars, what would you give me in return?" He heard himself ask the air,
not expecting a reply.
The answering voice resonated through him until he could feel the timbres of it. "I think
you know what I can promise you--sensations you are only dimly aware of--ecstasy, mounting,
growing, swelling, bursting, endless and no satiety, no end until you know the crucifixion of
love, and scream for the cross, and help to drive the nails while every nerve, every white writhing
nerve, joins the demonic and whips itself to a rage of exulting and raging passion. You lick your
lips. You think you know. What you know is only a whisper beside the pandemonium I promise
you."
All of the hairs on the back of Draco's neck were up. He shivered at the deep
reverberations of the voice, the yearning it woke in him, and how he longed to meet the owner of
that voice. If only the owner of the voice and the owner of the perfect body were the same, and
had a face the like to rival a goddess... He trembled at the idea.~
Draco shot up in bed, writhing at the desire he felt coursing through his veins. He wanted
her. He had to have her. No matter what it took, he would find her and make her his.
Another feeling raced with his blood. It was alien, but tingled with the air of magic. He
knew it was more important than the girl, but his every thought was for her and what the brush of
her skin against his would be like. Or better, what her lips would taste like, and how he would
react to her heat crushed against him. He looked at his hand, remembering the slow manner in
which it had traced her outline, and smothered a yelp. It was glowing with a silvery sheen he'd
never before noticed. As he watched, the light receded into his skin, then vanished, as though it
had become part of him.
Hours later he fell asleep, still pondering over where the words had come from and what
the strange glow had been. Of one thing he was certain, and that was that the reply to his
question had not been instantaneously created. Once he found someone who knew those words,
he could easily snare his prize.
Disclaimer: I completely disclaim this. I can't stop rereading and writing this story, but
don't want it. Okay, so I do want it, but don't yell at me. It gets better, I promise. This was a
short one, but the next is longer. For that matter, the next chapter contains: a run in in the
Gryffindor common room and a fiery redhead showing exactly what power means.