Obsession and Devotion.
By Hannah White
Chapter 1.
Warnings: Yaoi/Shonen Ai/slash/Language/Angst/Mild Violence/Rape/Abuse/OOC.
Pairing: Severus/Draco, Old flame Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape.
P.O.V: Narrator.
Summary: When his father and so many more cruel minions shatter Draco's
world, will there be anyone there to pick up the pieces? Or will Draco take
so much it makes him crack?
Other Notes: Well, my first Harry Potter fanfiction.And Gods I'm nervous as
it is also my first fanfiction to go up to fanfiction.net^_^ Oh yes, and
the fancy dress party clothes ideas came from "Baz Lurhmanns Romeo &
Juliet". Please don't flame, but you are entitled to criticize because it
is a matter of opinion^_^ what more can I say? Enjoy and review!
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, themes, and concepts etc they all
belong to J.K.Rowling who I respect. Lucky thing :)
~*~
"Speech"
'Thoughts'
Dream/Flash Back
~*~ The snow fell silently outside. Draco Malfoy sat in silence, the only sound an occasional chink of his cutlery on the smooth white china plate. Lucius Malfoy sat in silence; the only sound the solitary chink of his wine glass tapping gently on pearly teeth. Narcsissa Malfoy did not sit in silence with the rest of them. She had chosen a day of shopping, to relieve stress naturally, rather then this cold family dining session. Undisturbed silence. The way the Malfoy family was. The two blondes were the real Malfoy's of the moment. Two blondes so incredibly identical.so incredibly different. Then, the elder blonde broke the silence with a silk like drawl, his unfeeling eyes staring directly at Draco. "So, Draco, do tell me, how is dearest Potter?" He spat the word 'Potter' out with a venomous tongue, sneering cat-like at the very thought of the scarred boy. Draco looked up slowly and reluctantly, lacking his usual flounce and confidence. Him and Potter weren't really enemies as much, they didn't talk, insult and really almost touched the very edges of being civil. But Draco avoided him. To be frank, he was bored. Bored of the same reactions and expressions and the continuous verbal battles, so tedious. A part of him knew Potter felt the same. He chewed his food thoughtfully, slowly then hesitated before saying. "I can't say I really know, Father" Lucius frowned and put the wine flute down on the polished surface of the grand table. He flicked a long lock of silver blonde hair away from his face, back to join the flock. "You don't know?" Draco nodded solemnly and Lucius sighed, although, not a peaceful sounding sigh. "You don't leave me to believe, you are going soft on old Potter now are you?" he said, almost hissed. Draco thought again and hesitated, something Lucius did not like. "Sit up Draco, answer properly, don't pause," he snapped crisply, the frown deepening in his high brow. "No, of course not, why would I? I just don't really see Potter that much anymore.he is rather tiresome" then he added, not quite liking the glimmer in his fathers blue eyes "Probably hanging round with that Weasly, being a little more then friendly" The elder man laughed at the crudeness of his 16 year old son's answer and leaned back into the chair more so. "Yes" he reflected on this thought, delicate hand captured on delicate chin and eyes focused now on the soft flames, uncontentedly fighting each other and rolling in their own amber glow. Lucius squinted his eyes, feeling the heat reflecting from the fire. Thoughts of Draco's own love life fluttered in his head, and he realized how little his son had said about anybody. Then, almost unconsciously, said in a quiet manner. "Doesn't anybody take your fancy in particular?" Draco's eyes widened at this question, and he clamped his teeth down on the soft flesh of his bottom lip.
'Gods, if only you knew who.'
"Draco! What have I told you about pausing!" his father snapped, head whipping round and so familiar scowl landed harshly on his shadowed features. "Sorry Father, No, I don't really think I'm seeking anyone out" "You don't think?" Lucius pressed, raising a pale eyebrow. 'You never miss a trick do you?' Draco thought a little spitefully. "No." The young blonde rephrased "I know I'm not really seeking anyone out" Lucius nodded and picked the crystal wine flute up again, the elegant hand flicking as he through the deep red down his throat, yet maintaining impeccable grace and dignity whilst drowning his sorrows, not that of course, he would ever admit to that. "But, of course, you could still have anyone you wanted couldn't you?" He chided. "Naturally, I am a Malfoy, after all" "Ha! I see your reasoning" Suddenly a wicked grin caught his lips, revealing a dangerous looking canine. Draco suddenly got a strange, unexplainable feeling in the pit of his stomach and he put down his gleaming cutlery with a clatter, not caring much for the rich meal anymore. He took a slightly loud breath and Lucius turned his head towards his son. Draco covered his mouth apologetically, feeling it had disturbed the quietness. The fire crackled anonymously. "Well.How about we make it so you are seeking somebody?" His father said, a little too sharply. It made Draco a little nervous, but he smirked and pretended to be amused.
'Must act like a Malfoy.a filthy horrible Malfoy.'
"It sounds interesting" he smirked, clasping his hands together. Lucius laughed softly, his platinum hair shrouding around his shoulders in a blonde cape, his pale face enlightened by the flickering light. "As you know tomorrow night I am holding.a Christmas party.of sorts" He said softly, voice sounded out like satin, "Perhaps you would like to.circulate?" Draco knew what the nervous feeling had been now.one of the great Malfoy parties, the most sought after party. Notorious for Drink, Orgies, Games (sick games Draco reminded himself) and there was always a young virgin girl to go around.or boy. The realization hit him. Draco felt like vomiting, his stomach turned and twisted into knots. Perhaps you would like to.circulate? The words span madly in his mind, Lucius's eyes gazing intently at him, boring through his thoughts. "Well? Aren't you pleased? After all, this would be your first party wouldn't it?" Draco swallowed, not quite believing his ears. But he nodded gingerly all the same and saw the Cheshire cat smile playing on his Fathers lips. He wanted to hit him, wipe that smile off of his face. "Good, any questions boy?" Draco swallowed the lump in his throat again, and closed his eyes briefly trying to conjure courage. "Father.y.you don't mean.when you say circulate.you don't mean?" "You will have to see what the night brings," Lucius purred softly, watching the fear in his son's eyes, flashing for mercy. The depth of the baby blue was pleading.No, don't make me, please.why did Lucius feel this inward laughter towards the weakness? A perverse like for this unwanted terror? Draco made a funny noise deep in his throat, not quite sure what to say.Lucius said it for him. He ignored the pleading coming from his son's frightened eyes. "You may leave now" Draco rose from the comfort of the leather padded chair and turned slowly, cautiously, away from this.this condemning man. He felt like screaming at him as he walked away.either that or bursting into tears. He did neither. "Oh and Draco?" he didn't turn round to the icy voice. "Fancy dress, don't forget" ~*~
'Why?' Draco questioned to himself later, as he sat on his over cushioned bed, face resting in his slightly clammy palms. 'Why is he doing this.making me into a.a.' He couldn't bring himself to even think it, speaking it would be impossible. Perhaps you would like to.circulate? The icy words panged in his mind, he dug his fingers into his forehead then fell backwards onto the satin sheets, exasperated, unable to sit up with this horrible weight dragging down his mind and body. The conversation played in his mind.
"Doesn't anybody take your fancy in particular?" Draco hated the look on his fathers face when he had said that.almost perverse. And he had lied to him, again. It wasn't uncommon. Was there any truth left in the world anymore? Ask a stupid question.and there was someone. Someone so.forbidden, dangerous, unwanted.so much older.
'Now look who's the pervert!' His conscious hissed, Draco placed his hands back on his head, feeling the half moons created by his trim nails. But he couldn't think about that just now.he had a new dilemma, slowly managing to tear him up inside like a virus. He was going to be. 'You're going to be.a cheap whore, and you're going to get taken against your will and you're going to loose your pride and dignity.' "And sanity!" Draco cried, pulling his hands back forcefully through his hair, feeling the dampness of cold sweat. He closed his eyes tight. He closed them so incredibly tight, but still, the tears slipped from under his eyelids. As if life couldn't get any worse. Oh but it could.and it most certainly would. Tomorrow night. He wanted to hide, like a little child, pull the bed quilts around him and hide. Hide from it all. He slowly sat up and swung his shaking legs over the side of the bed, his toes touching into the carpet so softly it felt like he would fall through the softness of the fluffy fibers. Draco stood up and walked across to the window, seeing his reflection in the glass but choosing to ignore it. He didn't like looking at himself. It was snowing. Beautiful, crystals of snowflakes falling through endless darkness, spiraling to oblivion. Not unlike himself. The Malfoy mansion was covered in stretches of undisturbed white, wonderfully pure white. Draco stared sadly out into the winter snow, imagining the filthy partygoers already trudging their way through the thick of the blizzard, grinning and chattering in their horrible manner. He hated them.and a part of him was one of them. Was he not just a Lucius incarnate? The same hair, same eyes.same thoughts? No. That was the difference, the thoughts were different. Well.to some extent the same.. Which disgusted him, but over these past years, although he didn't want to admit it, he had changed from his father.feelings differing greatly on trivial matters.Death eaters. Voldemort. All, just insignificant matters to their family. A blood old routine. How could he break this chain now? It didn't matter what he choose to do in the future, his life was already written down, black and white. It had been set, like a trap. He didn't have an option to whether or not he thought Voldemort was right or wrong, because Lucius thought it was right. And so did his dad. And his Dad.Draco jumped from his musings and whipped round, terrified in his own home when a knock echoed on the door. "Draco dear? I'm home, can I come in?" He sighed as his mothers voice chimed through the door. It was a comforting voice, he liked it. He supposed he liked his mother.a little more then his father at least. "Yes, come in" The door handle turned and in she walked, thin and petite with robe clinging and flowing off of her fragile body. The smell of lilies and Jasmine floated after her, along with a faint powdery smell with he couldn't quite name. Her hair floated no matter what she was doing, giving her almost angelic appearance. Draco smiled at her and she smiled weakly in return. She was so weak; Draco could see her getting weaker by the day. She was ill. She had to be. Draco turned away from her, shuddering at the thoughts of her poor dying body, just wilting away unnoticed like a dying rose in the winter. "I trust you and your father have had dinner then?" she chimed softly, he heard her sit on the bed, the satin rustling ever so quietly against her. "Yes" he replied, emotionless and empty. There was silence. He listened to the slight wheezy rattle of her breath, trying to imagine she was fine. He stood and she sat in the coldness of this room, not speaking just listening to silent answers that would never come. "Oh.well, goodnight" she stood up, heels making no sound on the floor under her robes. So fond of heeled boots and fragrant perfume. How could she be so.empty? Under the surface of the faint smell of lilies and the heeled boots and the flowing robes, how could she be just like the rest? But she was. And that was a fact. He heard her leaving but just before she closed the door he turned and called: "Mother?" The witch paused and stuck her head through the door. What did he really want to say? Are you dying? Oh, by the way, Dad wants me to sleep round like a cheap whore with men at his party and I'm in love with.He stopped. "No.it's.it's nothing" he said, voice suddenly croaky. An awkward silence. "Are you sure?" He nodded. She sighed. "Goodnight" "Goodnight" and she was gone. And I'm in love with.Draco had shocked himself with that! Was he.? No.it was merely an.infatuation. It couldn't be possible to feel love for.no, it was just an obsession. Absent minded, idiotic obsession. 'Keep telling yourself that boy!' That evil little voice in the back of his mind, back there in the darkness with so much more.he wasn't willing to hear the horrible words it spoke, the horrible truth it spoke so clearly. You couldn't fall in love with someone like that. You couldn't be a person like he was and fall in love. Not in such an.unnatural way at least. Gods, but he could see his face burning through his mind. That black hair, so greasy and unkept and those dark, unforgiving eyes. Draco closed his own eyes.imagining those hands.those cold, thin hands with equally thin wrists. He fancied he could feel the spider like tingle of those nimble fingers trailing across his skin.across his chest. He shuddered involuntary and turned away from the window; mind suddenly set on taking a bath. Wash the thoughts away from him.wash the hideous name of Malfoy away from him.The teenager walked across the room and picked up a fresh white towel and rooted in his drawer for a pair of pajama bottoms. They were loose and old, slightly worn through and, as many of his clothes tended to be, they were black. He closed the drawer, the towel and garment hugged to his chest. For some reason he looked round the room, feeling as though someone was watching him. Waiting for him. Maybe it was just the darkness of the room, the shadows playing with his imagination. Whatever it was, it mattered little to him as he walked out of his room, closing the door but not locking it. How could a home possibly be a home if you had to lock your own doors every time you moved? The hall way was quite bright really compared to his room. Although, bright in an ethereal kind of sense. Enchanted pure white candles floating against the walls and soft white snowflakes floating along with them, twinkling and glistening. His mother had picked them, much too feminine for his father. Oak doors each side of him, all parallel to each other. How many rooms could this house possibly hold? It was a waste. Although, he supposed, these rooms did actually see quite a lot of use.the beastly parties.he remembered hearing screams in these rooms. He had pulled his head under the pillow, pretending he hadn't heard the high-pitched wailing and the broken sobs.1, 2,3,4,5,6,7. 7 doors down from his room was one of the many bathrooms. Nobody used this one really, only if it was compulsory.get the blood of your hands quickly sort of thing.that made him shiver again, and he found himself knocking lightly on the door. No answer. He twizzled the brass handle and stepped inside, the aroma of bath pearls and salts hitting him instantly. The bathroom was white and gleamingly so. Draco closed the door behind him, locking it for no real reason anyway as magic could easily break this metallic fastening. He stepped forward, embracing the smell of the room, fragrant and slightly calming in a strange way. "Now then, bath or Shower?" he questioned himself aloud, voice echoing on the clean tiles. He looked at the shower, which seemed claustrophobic and enclosed today, so he decided on taking a bath. Gently dropping the items on a nearby chair, he bent over to the taps and turned them on. Water poured out and bubbled into waterfalls, beginning to fill the vast whiteness at a rapid speed. For a moment he left his hand in the water and waited till it heated, then, taking a shining enchanted looking bottle, poured out some pearly liquid into the bath. It foamed and several bright bubbles floated like butterflies into he air. He left the bath running, stripping of his clothes in the process and climbing almost immediately into the water. The water felt incredibly good against his skin and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the warmth and silk like quality. He turned the taps of slowly, just reaching a pale limb over carelessly and turning the silver taps with his palm. He could hear his own breathing, fluttering and falling over itself. And for a moment, he could feel those imaginary hands on his skin, touching and caressing across his limbs and back and chest and.God knows where. He felt a moan in the back of his throat, and felt increasingly embarrassed at himself for lusting about imagination.but that spider touch. And it saddened him a little that this forbidden prize couldn't possibly ever touch him. "Goddamn you Severus Snape" he murmured quietly, not noticing the fact he had said it aloud. ~*~ Severus Snape sat alone in his chamber. It was incredibly quiet, all apart from the scratch of the quill, dancing across the yellowed parchment. He liked being alone, a time to be cherished. Christmas wasn't a time Severus enjoyed. Well, to be frank, there wasn't a time at all when Severus enjoyed himself.there where silly adolescent moments, a teenage boy of 16, drunken and hormone driven. He saw himself, sat in the dorm room, listening to the others crude jokes, sniggering whilst tipping too much Alcohol down his throat. He could remember the loud music, electric guitars whamming loudly and drums beating excitedly. A big deafening raucous. And he remembered how he looked. People outside the Slytherin house rarely saw him dressed casually, they only saw the black robes and the prestigious green and silver glint of his badge. Of course he wore black anyway, black being the only colour he liked and that suited him. Black ripped jeans, black shirts, black coats, black jackets, black boots. The hair had remained in greasy, hideous unkempt locks; sometimes back in a ponytail, mostly down. It was all Lucius's idea. He had to be like the rest, had to join in with the fashion. Had to be the best when it came to everything. Because of Lucius. And.he had an earring. A small silver hoop, extremely adolescent and so dearly embarrassing. That hadn't been his choice, getting his ear pierced was all part of Lucius's plan (naturally) He supposed he had looked normal, for Christ sakes, even Remus Lupin swung into this greasy heavy metal teenager rage that was flowing fast through Hogwarts! Auburn hair messy, ripped jeans, T-shirt emblazed with some ridiculous catch phrase. And so did Sirius, naturally, we couldn't have God's gift to women missing out now could we? Then again, Sirius really had always swung that way. 3 piercing's, necklaces with skulls and daggers, black boots, white tee shirts. Leather. Way too much leather. Severus squinted and winced, with embarrassment and hatred for those days. No, these weren't happy days. They were tedious and predictable and Severus didn't want to think about them. Lucius always tried to make people what they were not and he was not a leather-wearing rocker.ok, if he was frank the music wasn't especially bad.and really the girls were quite interesting in that stage. Ridiculously short skirts, crazy tights, bangles shaking artistically round their thin wrists and utterly crazy coloured hair. But he was unwanted by all, and that was the way he liked to be. Maybe when girls had been drunk, lightheaded and tipsy, would they throw themselves randomly at anyone. Lucius enjoyed this. Snape did not. He thought they were sluts. Stupid sluts. Or maybe.maybe that was life for normal people? Getting drunk, laughing, shagging. He choose to stay away from that. The horror of the coloured life full of eccentric beauty and marvel and such stupid teen crazes. He was himself, no one else. And that was that. Although.even now, in the darkness of the dungeon, alone and cold at Christmas, his hand managed to dwindle it's way up to his ear lobe. He felt the soft lump where the earring used to be. What had he done with it? Oh yes.he remembered.it had been lost.when he.No. Severus immediately stopped thinking of that and snatched his hand away from his ear. 'Haven't you forgot that yet you stupid boy?' his own mind scolded him and he continued with the scrawl of writing, distinguishing flourishes on the page. No, he did not like Christmas. Good will and peace to mankind! Ha! What on earth could that mean? Did others not see the hate and evil and pain of the world? Did they not see the cruelty of everyday, pointless life? How could they not fear death? 'I would not fear death where it placed in my hand as a poison and if I were told to drink, I would oblige!' he thought bitterly, then realized really how quite sharp and roughly poetic his words had been. That made him stop writing quite abruptly, staring forward into the darkness of his chamber. Death. Still, after all this time his only thought would be to embrace it? This curiously made him feel suddenly uneasy and he saw the image of the dark mark flutter before his eyes. He closed them quickly. Then opened them slowly. Somehow, he felt the urge to write down the thought about death being poison and he did so, roughly jotting onto a spare scrap of parchment. The words looked queer on that page. He fancied he had heard them in a play, when he knew he had not. Stupid Christmas, pointless festival. All these unwanted memories flooding back.the lost earring that fell off in a bout of passion, the dark mark on his arm, a hideous tattoo for eternity. So many mixed emotions. He put down the quill with a sigh and stood up, running a pale hand through the greasy ebon hair. Maybe a walk around the castle would clear his thoughts.maybe he would find that Potter boy and his friends up to no good. 'That would be a pleasing gift for the Christmas holidays, getting Potter excluded' He thought with a cruel little smile, and then added on an afterthought: 'And I suppose I should check for any owls' He walked across the room, picked up his outer robe he had taken to wearing in the coldness Even a man like Snape could not bear this amount of cold weather. He opened the door and left, slamming it just slightly behind him. Severus looked instantly down the corridor. Nobody was there, it was quite empty. His own footsteps sounded oddly hollow as they echoed against the walls and he quickened his pace just a fraction, a nervous tremor prickling down his spine. The owlery was not far from here, which he was glad of, because he had a sudden surge for a letter to arrive. Or some form of outside contact at least. Enchanted Christmas torches flickered on the walls of Hogwarts and they were very pretty really.which made him not want to look at them. Things that were beautiful nearly always had a price to pay.and he had learnt that. He approached the owlery now, hearing a soft cooing and slight fluttering of wings. There would be very few owls now, as the majority of children had gone home for Christmas. Snape was grateful for this. Children were not good in his minds eye. As he stood in the doorway of the owlery a single black owl fluttered down and landed on his shoulder, the scaly talons tapping ever so lightly. The owl held out its leg, to which a thin roll of parchment was attached. Snape untied the letter and the owl glided back to the comfort of its perch. He noticed how the owls had huddled together. The letter had a green wax stamp. And Severus knew all too well where this had come from. The Malfoy stamp, he absently brushed his fingers over the symbol and eventually unraveled the letter, the Stamp not breaking really at all. Oh, how he knew that flourish of curly handwriting, almost italic. Dearest Severus, I imagine you will be joining us for the Christmas party as usual this year? I am terribly sorry about the short notice, as it is tomorrow, but what can I say? I am a busy man, my life is demanding. And you must pardon my lack of company when you arrive, for I myself will be rather tied down with some.newcomers. They just need a little impression, that's all. Yours knowingly, Lucius Malfoy. P.S. Fancy Dress, you wouldn't want to embarrass yourself now, would you?
Severus was fairly surprised with the letter, not with the content, oh no.but the quick pace it was written at was peculiar for Lucius. He usually took dignified time over letters, although, he understood why this was so rushed. The dark lord isn't exactly.patient. This thought made him grimace. But he smiled when he noticed the Signature, ah yes that was still signed in the perfected form of snakes and calligraphic letters.as was his name.It was quite strange really, how this man still wrote Severus's name the same after all these years, making the 'S' into a snake with a glint in it's beady delicate eye. Really quite endearing. 'Endearing? Lucius Malfoy endearing? I think not!' He chortled to himself and folded the letter, placing it carefully into the dark folds of his robe pocket. He would reply when he was back in the privacy of his room. He felt the sigh leave his lips, and he turned on his heel and made the thought to go and see Dumbledore. Of course he had to go to the party, there may have been valuable information.but he doubted it. Those parties could be incredibly vulgar. He did not enjoy them. The sickness was inhumane; a particular game they liked to play was something they decided to call "Stringing" Severus cared not to think about it.. Muggle women.strung up, the ropes cutting into her. being groped and.the blood and the screams.Severus shuddered. Definitely time to go and see Dumbledore. The corridor remained silent as he walked along, mind deep in concentration. Severus could recite the school corridors off the back of his hand. Without really looking at his surroundings, he was heading in the right direction.left turn, up three steps, right, left, left and pause.That made his head jerk up. Why in the hell had he paused here? This wasn't Dumbledore's office, why; it was merely just.an empty classroom. He hadn't stopped here since.he was 16. And now, at the age of 36, here he was. He didn't like it. Why? Why had something taken over his thoughts and brought him back to this fateful spot? Snape wanted desperately to tear his eyes away from the oak door.but he couldn't. He wanted to go in. He wanted to feel the weight as it shoved him against he door, he wanted to be able to hear the door creaking open then shut as they tumbled half heartedly inside, he wanted to hear faint laughs and the feel of.bruising, fevered lips on his own. 'NO!' Severus stopped himself, made a disgusted noise, and closing his eyes tight, turning quickly on his heel and standing there, facing away from the classroom.
'Forget! Just forget! It was a mistake, stupid, stupid mistake! You didn't feel what.you thought you did.a mistake, a silly mistake'
"Severus?" Snape's eyes flashed open and widened in embarrassment, flashing jet-black. He realized he had been stood there, blocking the hallway, not really knowing what he was doing.he was grateful again for the lack of irritating children. "Are you alright Severus?" For the first time he really focused on the speaker. Professor Mcgonnagol stood in front of him; hair scraped back, horn-rimmed glasses tipped to the edge of her thin nose. She raised a black eyebrow in a questioning posture. Severus coughed awkwardly in the back of his throat and tried to summon a sentence "I'm.I'm fine Minerva, now if you." "I think, you perhaps have something on your mind Severus?" She butted in, silencing his typically rude sentence. Snape suddenly felt he had fairly growled at the elderly witch, she had no right to question him! "I am fine, Minerva" he said, deathly quiet. She said nothing for a few moments, merely watching his expression. She had a stony face and Severus did not like it, remembering getting told off by her.bowing his head and thinking how he could repay Sirius Black for the Transfiguration accident. He was fairly surprised when she laughed, cheeks rosy. "Why, I could swear Severus Snape you look just like a teenager some days when I talk to you!" Snape felt his eye begging to twitch.did this women have any idea how annoying she was? The cackle of laughter rang in his ears. "Although, I doubt we will see you slouching round with an earring any time soon, will we now?" the thick Scottish accent lilted her voice. Severus gritted his teeth.he felt sick just remembering that earring.remembering the classroom. His stomach churned rancid and the laughter stopped abruptly and fell flat in the cold air. Silence. Snape felt his mind spin slightly, feeling a little queasy. "Are you sure nothing is wrong Severus? You really don't look well at all" He couldn't hold it in any longer, he had to say this.let it out. "You want to know what is wrong? Shall I tell you what is wrong?" he hissed, eyes narrowing to black slits in his gaunt face. Minerva said nothing but he continued. "I'm called Severus Snape, I am Severus Snape, that's whats wrong Minerva! Now if you don't mind I'm going to see Dumbledore" With that he shoved past the elderly witch and stormed off down the corridor, rapidly approaching Dumbledore's secret staircase. "Fizzing Whizzbees" he whispered hatefully, harsh, rushed voice, and, with that he rushed up the staircase, black robes billowing behind him. ~*~ "So, you see Headmaster, I won't be available tomorrow" Said Severus, softly pressing a hand to his forehead and looking down at his feet. The polished leather of his boots flickered in the ever-moving candlelight. He heard Dumbledore chuckle softly. "Well, I'm sure we will miss your company" The elderly headmaster said gently, placing the letter from Lucius down on his desk, which was cluttered by many odd contraptions. "Any ideas in particular?" "What?" "Why, don't tell me you've forgotten already Severus!" he laughed, leaning back leisurely. He decided to enlighten the confused Professor. "Fancy Dress" "Oh." "Maybe a Vampire?" Dumbledore chuckled. Severus wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he didn't bother. He didn't feel in the most talkative of manners anyway. "Severus? Anything you'd like to talk about?" He winced. Why did everybody want to make him speak? Damn them and their common kindness. "No, I'm fine, I assure you Albus" he said witheringly, turning his stony gaze to the headmasters wizened features. Dumbledore sighed. "You should not dwell on the past, Severus, it does the heart no good" Snape stood up, a rigid statue in black, a demon of nighttime. "There is no past to dwell on" and with that slightly harsh remark he left, turning on the sharp heel of his shoe. He heard Albus sigh once again, and fancied it had upset him greatly.and this made him feel a little guilty but an apology would make things, worse, so he merely left. Silently. "And no heart either" he concluded behind the closed door, his feet finding themselves down the winding path of the staircase. How familiar it all was.how carefree the way one could get sued to such conditions. Fantastic really. 'Roll on Saturday' He thought to himself glumly, running a thin hand through his greasy, ebon hair. It didn't matter if he washed it or not, it was always just a horrible black mess. But he couldn't resist it.as he walked down the corridor; he paused once again, staring heatedly at invisible memories.invisible figures.invisible words.and he could feel them, see them.hear them. 'I love you.I didn't mean it.I promise.I'm sorry, I'm so sorry'
~*~ Saturday. It was Saturday. God, he was nervous. He was terrified, petrified. 'I'm frightened' he thought to himself, suddenly feeling very small and child like. He wished he was a small child.a really, really small child. He wished he were dead. And what of his mother? Was she already dead? He couldn't tell.maybe she had been dead for a long time.maybe the night of her death was the night she met his father. Oh, his father. How he hated him. How he loved him. How he wished he were dead. Why was the family blood so bad? Why was it so.black? So impure? Of course they were an ancient bloodline, pure wizarding blood.but it wasn't good. None of it, all hell spawns blood. And he hated it, he hated himself. Draco gently brought a thin comb back through his pale blonde hair, watching the path the fine teeth made across his head. He was satisfied, it was neat enough. That sickened him. How vain, to have to preen yourself like an over coloured bird, fluffing his bold chest forward. What a beastly show off.poor creature. Fancy Dress. Why on Earth had his father picked such a subject? Then he reminded himself, it was probably something to do with his mother's intervention. He sighed.he looked ridiculous. Draco had dressed as a devil.not exactly a stereotypical Devil, but.pretty similar. He was wearing black trousers, tight fitting black trousers. He frowned.he didn't like the tight trousers.and he had also half-heartedly chosen a white shirt, topped with a red waistcoat.tarty really, but, he supposed, perhaps what the devil would look like. A human Devil. Was that possible? Then he had added the horns. Red Sequins flashed in the dancing rays of light against his blonde hair, like stains of blood, swirling on cream satin. A primal belief in the eyes of man, horns to behead the beast. But his face still looked empty and pale. Nausea. He noticed that his eyes looked red.sore and tierd out from the tears. Blood shot. He closed them and tilted his head back, averting the disrupting gaze of the mirror. Fear still pulsed through his veins, underneath the almost composed surface. Oh, how he wished at times like this he had never been born.and he nearly screamed. When he opened his eyes again somebody else was stood with him in the mirror. "Jesus Christ!" Draco cried, eyes widening. It was just his mother. How had she snuck into his room so quietly? He must have been wound up not too notice her, for she looked extremely eye catching in her latest fancy dress outfit. "Draco dear, when did 'Jesus Christ' become a proper wizarding insult?" she said softly, a smile twisting her lips. "Cleopatra does not approve?" he questioned to her, not turning round. Her face was beautifully painted up, the paleness lost to the fake tan of Egypt, and the Queen of Beauty. Her eyes were outlined to perfection, the ice blue now seemingly grey against the ash black of her sooty eyelashes, and eyelids.or were her eyelids black? No. They were covered in some brilliant purple liquid glitter, smudged casually, as though to give the appearance they had only taken two minutes. Her maids new better. "Ah hah, so my outfit does not deceive!" she laughed fragrantly, tipping her head when she spoke so her jet-black beaded wig fell over her shoulders, gleaming in luster. Artificial luster. "Hmmm, you need something" she murmured, cupping her sons face in her hand. Draco didn't respond to the touch. The conventional Cleopatra reached inside her handbag and rooted till she found something. "Here you go" Draco suddenly turned round. "Oh no, I'm not wearing eyeliner!" "Ohhhh.. Come on Draco, don't be a spoil sport!" She whined, attempting to catch her son with a faint grin. Draco licked his lips and stayed far away from the deadly weapon. "No" "Draco darling!" "No! I'm not a glamour queen!" "Oh you're so like you're father.some times I can't tell the difference!" he stopped. Was that true? Was he just like his father? He hoped she was winding him up.he would do anything too not be like him. "Ok.fine, but don't go overboard" Narcissa smiled in triumph, her whole appearance and way of speech completely out of character. Draco winced. "Don't squirm" "I'm not" He felt the cool pencil of eyeliner being applied to his sensitive eyes, and they watered slightly.he hoped she wouldn't think he was crying. Nausea. A sudden hot flush of the pain came over him.
'Perhaps you'd like to.circulate?'
No! He shoved the words to the back of his head and flexed his knuckles in irritation. His mother seemed not to notice. "And.there! Done!" she clapped her hands together and turned him around to face the looking glass. Draco was shocked. His eyes looked.stunning. Black, delicate lines made his eyes stand out, like two glass orbs, glinting in the light. He swallowed, overcome by his own reflection. "Not a glamour Queen! Ha!" "I'm not," he said defensively.but also a little fondly. His mother smiled then picked something up off of his chest of drawers. "Oh and.don't forget these" with that she dropped a pair of transparent red sunglasses into his hands and left the room with a wink of her beautiful Egyptian eye. Draco suddenly felt like the eye of Horus was looking down upon him and no one but him. And it felt a little frightening. ~*~ 'Bloody Weather' He snapped to himself 'Sodding Snow' Severus Snape tramped up the Malfoy's elaborate pathway, Icy snow beating against his face and leaving a stinging sensation on his cheeks. His body felt frozen and uncomfortable in the shrill blasts of wind. But, soon, he would be in the warmth of the party and he would be surrounded by merry partygoers.Severus was not sure if he liked this idea. He could see the lights of the big mansion up ahead, blurred by the snow like some old Christmas movie. It looked welcoming. And from the distance he heard the electric tinge of music as it blared out of inevitably large speakers. The snow was getting deeper; he could feel his feet sinking through it, the cold ran up through his legs. Suddenly he was thankful for the enchanted white flame torches that shimmered gracefully on either side of the pathway. They provided a certain.security as it were. A young couple suddenly came running past, the mans arms wrapped around the smaller figure of the female. It wasn't clear what the male of the two had come dressed as, but his girlfriend seemed to be some sort of cat. Severus caught glimpses of her painted face in the eerie light as she ran past, whispering that she was cold to her partner and snuggling up to him even further. It almost sickened him.or maybe it was a feeling created by sickened jealousy. He stopped thinking about it. Yes, he was drawing closer to the dreaded festivities.and yet again that unexplainable feeling came over him.and he was back in that classroom. Needy kisses, desperate pants, fevered kissed, hot bodies.chaste kisses. The ebon haired man growled at himself, and forced himself to walk quicker, hoping the unwanted feelings might flee. They tended not to care for leaving. "Ahh.Severus.you made it" Snape felt a chill run up his spine, his skin prickled towards the soft purr of the words. Cat like, sensuous words. Seductive. He looked up. Lucius Malfoy smiled down at him, deeply lidded eyelids gazing intently on the other man. "I did indeed Lucius" he replied quietly. "A vampire I see? How very.elegant" "I assure you Lucius, it was not my idea" The blonde wizard raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. Snape used his bemused silence to the advantage. "And you? What of your outfit?" "Why! Can you not see?" The potions master examined the outfit. "A pharaoh? Egyptian?" The other nodded in reply. It surprised Snape that he had not noticed the outfit before; after all, his face was even painted and made-up with the colours and style of Egypt. The two men stared at each other, silently. Severus felt an ache inside.and chose to ignore it. They both suddenly became uncomfortable. "Severus! Darling, oh you made it!" Mrs. Malfoy suddenly pounced out of nowhere and attacked Severus with open arms in a tight embrace.he was unusually thankful. She smelt very strongly of perfume. And, when he was finally released, Lucius had gone. He sighed, almost down heartedly. "My greetings, Narcissa" she laughed and threw her head backwards. "Ah, always the morbid one! Come! Join the party!" and with that she grabbed his hand and dragged him off to the menagerie of coloured lights, loud music, fine wine, beer and laughter. ~*~ "Draco" Draco Malfoy leapt round as somebody hissed his name into his ear. He sighed in relief. Just his father. "Come, I wish you to meet somebody" he said coldly, beckoning Draco across the room to a group of dark looking strangers. Draco swallowed and obeyed, then gathered the little confidence that resided in his soul. He walked behind his father, although he knew it annoyed him.but maybe he would be missed if he were hidden in his shadow. Silly lie. "Ah, Demetrius, here, meet my son, Draco" Draco stepped forward and shivered as a man with dark eyes and black hair bowed slightly at him. He was tall, lean and well built with thin, beautiful hands. Draco hated him already. "Tres Jolie" he murmured softly, the French lilting his voice, as he took Draco's hand and kissed it. Draco shuddered, but recovered himself when his fathers glare shook him. "Merci" he replied, hearing the chuckle from the apparently French wizard. "Marcus, Phoe, this is Draco" Two more men. Marcus was a finely groomed brunette with almost golden brown eyes, freckled with a strange glow of Amber. They made the younger blonde uneasy. "Greetings" He said softly, but not taking his hand. He spoke in crisp English. "I trust the evening fairs thee well?" The man named Phoe spoke now, also speaking in the clear dialect of Marcus. Marcus was blonde, but a richer, darker more golden blonde then himself. His eyes almost looked violet, but it was as always hard to tell in the fluttering enchanted lights. "As fair as it possibly could" Draco said softly, standing rigidly and uneasily. 'That could have more meanings than one' he thought. The three men chuckled. "He is impeccably like you Lucius" Said Demetrius, that peculiar smile on his features, even in his deep eyes. The eldest Malfoy laughed contentedly. "So I am told by many" He picked up a wine flute off a passing tray, the waitress not stopping as he plucked the glass "But I am afraid I must leave you now, so please, do get better.acquainted" Then, the Egyptian dressed man was lost to the blurs of people. Draco watched him go, and then turned slowly, feeling the gaze of the French wizard on him. Marcus and Phoe had gone without a trace. It surprised him and he felt himself blink. "Do not look so terrified Monsieur Draco, here, have a little wine" He nodded solemnly and accepted the wine glass, cautiously sipping at the strong taste. It was a good wine.infact, not like any he had tasted. It had a peculiar fragrant taste and almost bitterness to the tongue. "Please, sit with me a little, we should talk" Demetrius took his hand once more and lead him to a seat next to him. The teenage wizard sat awkwardly, feeling more like he was being treated like a dainty courtesan every second. Draco sipped the wine again. He stared plaintively into the crystal glass wear, seeing his reflection wavering in the liquid. Even in the wine his eyes stood up. It unnerved him for some reason.to be drinking this wine. The sweetness was unnatural.yet perfectly natural. "I must say, Monsieur Draco, your eyes look quite fabulous" He felt himself flourish with a pale blush. He had the sinking suspicion this French gentleman could read minds.he hoped not. "Thankyou" He replied awkwardly, not returning the gaze. The two sat in silence, Draco sipping his wine thirstily, his throat felt brittle and the wine was so alluring and sweet. Demetrius eyed Draco in deadly quiet. "More wine?" He had plenty left but.he supposed it seemed rude not to accept more. "Oui, bien" Demetrius laughed again, filling the blondes glass to the rim. He let his eyes fall into Draco's and it made him once again uneasy.there was something.something there. "Quite the French man! Now, we toast" Demetrius continued, perhaps not sensing the presence and fear of the younger man. "Toast to what?" "A fantastic party and.a fantastic companion" he said looking directly into Draco's eyes. The feeling of nausea.could it be so bad? What on earth was wrong with him? They chinked glasses again and Draco quickly took the drink, all the while, not noticing the thick potion that was fizzing away inside the wine. "Cest Magnifique" Demetrius laughed in the same way as he had done before. Draco knew he was blushing, he felt it creeping to his face, like poison ivy twining round a pillar. And what of the wine? Why was it so sweet? Why did he crave it so? Demetrius must have spotted the curious look on the youth's face for he attempted to distract his thoughts with conversation. "Tell me Draco, do you have a.partner?" For a brief second, something chimed in Draco's head and a lot of warnings and fear and panic suddenly flooded back to him. His eyes widened in fear. 'Beware! This is a trick!' His conscious hissed solemnly. "Drink up Draco" Was that Demetrius? He couldn't really tell anymore, his mind had started swimming in colours. He felt tipsy, nauseous.and still, that over impending fear of doom. This wine.it was poison, it had to be. Draco nearly gasped as searing pain shot through his mind.
'Danger!'
"N.no." he croaked, closing his eyes, feeling stinging sensations behind them. It felt painful to keep them open. So many colours, so many lights, so many. "Well that's good" Demetrius whispered roughly. He felt hot breath around his face, he felt himself being moved from his seat, strong hands on his body. He felt fragile. Hot, awkward breath. The music in the background thumped, sensual, sexy, slow hard rhythm. It felt seductive. The electric singers murmuring imaginary words into the seductive beat of the song. Draco tried getting away, his mind still screaming the deathly warnings. "No.no.let me." "Sssh" "No! P.please" his breath felt tight in his chest, knots turning themselves over in his stomach. Rancid sick. He thought he would throw up there and then. And then Demetrius' lips were on his. Hot, wet lips capturing his lips. He couldn't move, let alone respond. The taste of the wine, it was fluid from their mouths and he wanted the wine. So he kissed back, hearing the other man groan as there tongues wrestled. Such a strange groan, rising from deep inside him. Heat, wet and moist. Draco wanted to break free, but now the lips were forcing demanding, bruising against his own. There was little air but.the taste of wine. He moved his arms, around the others neck.or was it a dream? Where was he really? It didn't matter, it just didn't matter. Just the wine. The desirable wine.let it continue. Draco suddenly felt and heard words from the others mouth as they moved against his lips.
"You're mine"
~*~
Reviews Welcome =D I know, it's bad; it's bad, lmao! ~*~Blue~*~
'Thoughts'
Dream/Flash Back
~*~ The snow fell silently outside. Draco Malfoy sat in silence, the only sound an occasional chink of his cutlery on the smooth white china plate. Lucius Malfoy sat in silence; the only sound the solitary chink of his wine glass tapping gently on pearly teeth. Narcsissa Malfoy did not sit in silence with the rest of them. She had chosen a day of shopping, to relieve stress naturally, rather then this cold family dining session. Undisturbed silence. The way the Malfoy family was. The two blondes were the real Malfoy's of the moment. Two blondes so incredibly identical.so incredibly different. Then, the elder blonde broke the silence with a silk like drawl, his unfeeling eyes staring directly at Draco. "So, Draco, do tell me, how is dearest Potter?" He spat the word 'Potter' out with a venomous tongue, sneering cat-like at the very thought of the scarred boy. Draco looked up slowly and reluctantly, lacking his usual flounce and confidence. Him and Potter weren't really enemies as much, they didn't talk, insult and really almost touched the very edges of being civil. But Draco avoided him. To be frank, he was bored. Bored of the same reactions and expressions and the continuous verbal battles, so tedious. A part of him knew Potter felt the same. He chewed his food thoughtfully, slowly then hesitated before saying. "I can't say I really know, Father" Lucius frowned and put the wine flute down on the polished surface of the grand table. He flicked a long lock of silver blonde hair away from his face, back to join the flock. "You don't know?" Draco nodded solemnly and Lucius sighed, although, not a peaceful sounding sigh. "You don't leave me to believe, you are going soft on old Potter now are you?" he said, almost hissed. Draco thought again and hesitated, something Lucius did not like. "Sit up Draco, answer properly, don't pause," he snapped crisply, the frown deepening in his high brow. "No, of course not, why would I? I just don't really see Potter that much anymore.he is rather tiresome" then he added, not quite liking the glimmer in his fathers blue eyes "Probably hanging round with that Weasly, being a little more then friendly" The elder man laughed at the crudeness of his 16 year old son's answer and leaned back into the chair more so. "Yes" he reflected on this thought, delicate hand captured on delicate chin and eyes focused now on the soft flames, uncontentedly fighting each other and rolling in their own amber glow. Lucius squinted his eyes, feeling the heat reflecting from the fire. Thoughts of Draco's own love life fluttered in his head, and he realized how little his son had said about anybody. Then, almost unconsciously, said in a quiet manner. "Doesn't anybody take your fancy in particular?" Draco's eyes widened at this question, and he clamped his teeth down on the soft flesh of his bottom lip.
'Gods, if only you knew who.'
"Draco! What have I told you about pausing!" his father snapped, head whipping round and so familiar scowl landed harshly on his shadowed features. "Sorry Father, No, I don't really think I'm seeking anyone out" "You don't think?" Lucius pressed, raising a pale eyebrow. 'You never miss a trick do you?' Draco thought a little spitefully. "No." The young blonde rephrased "I know I'm not really seeking anyone out" Lucius nodded and picked the crystal wine flute up again, the elegant hand flicking as he through the deep red down his throat, yet maintaining impeccable grace and dignity whilst drowning his sorrows, not that of course, he would ever admit to that. "But, of course, you could still have anyone you wanted couldn't you?" He chided. "Naturally, I am a Malfoy, after all" "Ha! I see your reasoning" Suddenly a wicked grin caught his lips, revealing a dangerous looking canine. Draco suddenly got a strange, unexplainable feeling in the pit of his stomach and he put down his gleaming cutlery with a clatter, not caring much for the rich meal anymore. He took a slightly loud breath and Lucius turned his head towards his son. Draco covered his mouth apologetically, feeling it had disturbed the quietness. The fire crackled anonymously. "Well.How about we make it so you are seeking somebody?" His father said, a little too sharply. It made Draco a little nervous, but he smirked and pretended to be amused.
'Must act like a Malfoy.a filthy horrible Malfoy.'
"It sounds interesting" he smirked, clasping his hands together. Lucius laughed softly, his platinum hair shrouding around his shoulders in a blonde cape, his pale face enlightened by the flickering light. "As you know tomorrow night I am holding.a Christmas party.of sorts" He said softly, voice sounded out like satin, "Perhaps you would like to.circulate?" Draco knew what the nervous feeling had been now.one of the great Malfoy parties, the most sought after party. Notorious for Drink, Orgies, Games (sick games Draco reminded himself) and there was always a young virgin girl to go around.or boy. The realization hit him. Draco felt like vomiting, his stomach turned and twisted into knots. Perhaps you would like to.circulate? The words span madly in his mind, Lucius's eyes gazing intently at him, boring through his thoughts. "Well? Aren't you pleased? After all, this would be your first party wouldn't it?" Draco swallowed, not quite believing his ears. But he nodded gingerly all the same and saw the Cheshire cat smile playing on his Fathers lips. He wanted to hit him, wipe that smile off of his face. "Good, any questions boy?" Draco swallowed the lump in his throat again, and closed his eyes briefly trying to conjure courage. "Father.y.you don't mean.when you say circulate.you don't mean?" "You will have to see what the night brings," Lucius purred softly, watching the fear in his son's eyes, flashing for mercy. The depth of the baby blue was pleading.No, don't make me, please.why did Lucius feel this inward laughter towards the weakness? A perverse like for this unwanted terror? Draco made a funny noise deep in his throat, not quite sure what to say.Lucius said it for him. He ignored the pleading coming from his son's frightened eyes. "You may leave now" Draco rose from the comfort of the leather padded chair and turned slowly, cautiously, away from this.this condemning man. He felt like screaming at him as he walked away.either that or bursting into tears. He did neither. "Oh and Draco?" he didn't turn round to the icy voice. "Fancy dress, don't forget" ~*~
'Why?' Draco questioned to himself later, as he sat on his over cushioned bed, face resting in his slightly clammy palms. 'Why is he doing this.making me into a.a.' He couldn't bring himself to even think it, speaking it would be impossible. Perhaps you would like to.circulate? The icy words panged in his mind, he dug his fingers into his forehead then fell backwards onto the satin sheets, exasperated, unable to sit up with this horrible weight dragging down his mind and body. The conversation played in his mind.
"Doesn't anybody take your fancy in particular?" Draco hated the look on his fathers face when he had said that.almost perverse. And he had lied to him, again. It wasn't uncommon. Was there any truth left in the world anymore? Ask a stupid question.and there was someone. Someone so.forbidden, dangerous, unwanted.so much older.
'Now look who's the pervert!' His conscious hissed, Draco placed his hands back on his head, feeling the half moons created by his trim nails. But he couldn't think about that just now.he had a new dilemma, slowly managing to tear him up inside like a virus. He was going to be. 'You're going to be.a cheap whore, and you're going to get taken against your will and you're going to loose your pride and dignity.' "And sanity!" Draco cried, pulling his hands back forcefully through his hair, feeling the dampness of cold sweat. He closed his eyes tight. He closed them so incredibly tight, but still, the tears slipped from under his eyelids. As if life couldn't get any worse. Oh but it could.and it most certainly would. Tomorrow night. He wanted to hide, like a little child, pull the bed quilts around him and hide. Hide from it all. He slowly sat up and swung his shaking legs over the side of the bed, his toes touching into the carpet so softly it felt like he would fall through the softness of the fluffy fibers. Draco stood up and walked across to the window, seeing his reflection in the glass but choosing to ignore it. He didn't like looking at himself. It was snowing. Beautiful, crystals of snowflakes falling through endless darkness, spiraling to oblivion. Not unlike himself. The Malfoy mansion was covered in stretches of undisturbed white, wonderfully pure white. Draco stared sadly out into the winter snow, imagining the filthy partygoers already trudging their way through the thick of the blizzard, grinning and chattering in their horrible manner. He hated them.and a part of him was one of them. Was he not just a Lucius incarnate? The same hair, same eyes.same thoughts? No. That was the difference, the thoughts were different. Well.to some extent the same.. Which disgusted him, but over these past years, although he didn't want to admit it, he had changed from his father.feelings differing greatly on trivial matters.Death eaters. Voldemort. All, just insignificant matters to their family. A blood old routine. How could he break this chain now? It didn't matter what he choose to do in the future, his life was already written down, black and white. It had been set, like a trap. He didn't have an option to whether or not he thought Voldemort was right or wrong, because Lucius thought it was right. And so did his dad. And his Dad.Draco jumped from his musings and whipped round, terrified in his own home when a knock echoed on the door. "Draco dear? I'm home, can I come in?" He sighed as his mothers voice chimed through the door. It was a comforting voice, he liked it. He supposed he liked his mother.a little more then his father at least. "Yes, come in" The door handle turned and in she walked, thin and petite with robe clinging and flowing off of her fragile body. The smell of lilies and Jasmine floated after her, along with a faint powdery smell with he couldn't quite name. Her hair floated no matter what she was doing, giving her almost angelic appearance. Draco smiled at her and she smiled weakly in return. She was so weak; Draco could see her getting weaker by the day. She was ill. She had to be. Draco turned away from her, shuddering at the thoughts of her poor dying body, just wilting away unnoticed like a dying rose in the winter. "I trust you and your father have had dinner then?" she chimed softly, he heard her sit on the bed, the satin rustling ever so quietly against her. "Yes" he replied, emotionless and empty. There was silence. He listened to the slight wheezy rattle of her breath, trying to imagine she was fine. He stood and she sat in the coldness of this room, not speaking just listening to silent answers that would never come. "Oh.well, goodnight" she stood up, heels making no sound on the floor under her robes. So fond of heeled boots and fragrant perfume. How could she be so.empty? Under the surface of the faint smell of lilies and the heeled boots and the flowing robes, how could she be just like the rest? But she was. And that was a fact. He heard her leaving but just before she closed the door he turned and called: "Mother?" The witch paused and stuck her head through the door. What did he really want to say? Are you dying? Oh, by the way, Dad wants me to sleep round like a cheap whore with men at his party and I'm in love with.He stopped. "No.it's.it's nothing" he said, voice suddenly croaky. An awkward silence. "Are you sure?" He nodded. She sighed. "Goodnight" "Goodnight" and she was gone. And I'm in love with.Draco had shocked himself with that! Was he.? No.it was merely an.infatuation. It couldn't be possible to feel love for.no, it was just an obsession. Absent minded, idiotic obsession. 'Keep telling yourself that boy!' That evil little voice in the back of his mind, back there in the darkness with so much more.he wasn't willing to hear the horrible words it spoke, the horrible truth it spoke so clearly. You couldn't fall in love with someone like that. You couldn't be a person like he was and fall in love. Not in such an.unnatural way at least. Gods, but he could see his face burning through his mind. That black hair, so greasy and unkept and those dark, unforgiving eyes. Draco closed his own eyes.imagining those hands.those cold, thin hands with equally thin wrists. He fancied he could feel the spider like tingle of those nimble fingers trailing across his skin.across his chest. He shuddered involuntary and turned away from the window; mind suddenly set on taking a bath. Wash the thoughts away from him.wash the hideous name of Malfoy away from him.The teenager walked across the room and picked up a fresh white towel and rooted in his drawer for a pair of pajama bottoms. They were loose and old, slightly worn through and, as many of his clothes tended to be, they were black. He closed the drawer, the towel and garment hugged to his chest. For some reason he looked round the room, feeling as though someone was watching him. Waiting for him. Maybe it was just the darkness of the room, the shadows playing with his imagination. Whatever it was, it mattered little to him as he walked out of his room, closing the door but not locking it. How could a home possibly be a home if you had to lock your own doors every time you moved? The hall way was quite bright really compared to his room. Although, bright in an ethereal kind of sense. Enchanted pure white candles floating against the walls and soft white snowflakes floating along with them, twinkling and glistening. His mother had picked them, much too feminine for his father. Oak doors each side of him, all parallel to each other. How many rooms could this house possibly hold? It was a waste. Although, he supposed, these rooms did actually see quite a lot of use.the beastly parties.he remembered hearing screams in these rooms. He had pulled his head under the pillow, pretending he hadn't heard the high-pitched wailing and the broken sobs.1, 2,3,4,5,6,7. 7 doors down from his room was one of the many bathrooms. Nobody used this one really, only if it was compulsory.get the blood of your hands quickly sort of thing.that made him shiver again, and he found himself knocking lightly on the door. No answer. He twizzled the brass handle and stepped inside, the aroma of bath pearls and salts hitting him instantly. The bathroom was white and gleamingly so. Draco closed the door behind him, locking it for no real reason anyway as magic could easily break this metallic fastening. He stepped forward, embracing the smell of the room, fragrant and slightly calming in a strange way. "Now then, bath or Shower?" he questioned himself aloud, voice echoing on the clean tiles. He looked at the shower, which seemed claustrophobic and enclosed today, so he decided on taking a bath. Gently dropping the items on a nearby chair, he bent over to the taps and turned them on. Water poured out and bubbled into waterfalls, beginning to fill the vast whiteness at a rapid speed. For a moment he left his hand in the water and waited till it heated, then, taking a shining enchanted looking bottle, poured out some pearly liquid into the bath. It foamed and several bright bubbles floated like butterflies into he air. He left the bath running, stripping of his clothes in the process and climbing almost immediately into the water. The water felt incredibly good against his skin and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the warmth and silk like quality. He turned the taps of slowly, just reaching a pale limb over carelessly and turning the silver taps with his palm. He could hear his own breathing, fluttering and falling over itself. And for a moment, he could feel those imaginary hands on his skin, touching and caressing across his limbs and back and chest and.God knows where. He felt a moan in the back of his throat, and felt increasingly embarrassed at himself for lusting about imagination.but that spider touch. And it saddened him a little that this forbidden prize couldn't possibly ever touch him. "Goddamn you Severus Snape" he murmured quietly, not noticing the fact he had said it aloud. ~*~ Severus Snape sat alone in his chamber. It was incredibly quiet, all apart from the scratch of the quill, dancing across the yellowed parchment. He liked being alone, a time to be cherished. Christmas wasn't a time Severus enjoyed. Well, to be frank, there wasn't a time at all when Severus enjoyed himself.there where silly adolescent moments, a teenage boy of 16, drunken and hormone driven. He saw himself, sat in the dorm room, listening to the others crude jokes, sniggering whilst tipping too much Alcohol down his throat. He could remember the loud music, electric guitars whamming loudly and drums beating excitedly. A big deafening raucous. And he remembered how he looked. People outside the Slytherin house rarely saw him dressed casually, they only saw the black robes and the prestigious green and silver glint of his badge. Of course he wore black anyway, black being the only colour he liked and that suited him. Black ripped jeans, black shirts, black coats, black jackets, black boots. The hair had remained in greasy, hideous unkempt locks; sometimes back in a ponytail, mostly down. It was all Lucius's idea. He had to be like the rest, had to join in with the fashion. Had to be the best when it came to everything. Because of Lucius. And.he had an earring. A small silver hoop, extremely adolescent and so dearly embarrassing. That hadn't been his choice, getting his ear pierced was all part of Lucius's plan (naturally) He supposed he had looked normal, for Christ sakes, even Remus Lupin swung into this greasy heavy metal teenager rage that was flowing fast through Hogwarts! Auburn hair messy, ripped jeans, T-shirt emblazed with some ridiculous catch phrase. And so did Sirius, naturally, we couldn't have God's gift to women missing out now could we? Then again, Sirius really had always swung that way. 3 piercing's, necklaces with skulls and daggers, black boots, white tee shirts. Leather. Way too much leather. Severus squinted and winced, with embarrassment and hatred for those days. No, these weren't happy days. They were tedious and predictable and Severus didn't want to think about them. Lucius always tried to make people what they were not and he was not a leather-wearing rocker.ok, if he was frank the music wasn't especially bad.and really the girls were quite interesting in that stage. Ridiculously short skirts, crazy tights, bangles shaking artistically round their thin wrists and utterly crazy coloured hair. But he was unwanted by all, and that was the way he liked to be. Maybe when girls had been drunk, lightheaded and tipsy, would they throw themselves randomly at anyone. Lucius enjoyed this. Snape did not. He thought they were sluts. Stupid sluts. Or maybe.maybe that was life for normal people? Getting drunk, laughing, shagging. He choose to stay away from that. The horror of the coloured life full of eccentric beauty and marvel and such stupid teen crazes. He was himself, no one else. And that was that. Although.even now, in the darkness of the dungeon, alone and cold at Christmas, his hand managed to dwindle it's way up to his ear lobe. He felt the soft lump where the earring used to be. What had he done with it? Oh yes.he remembered.it had been lost.when he.No. Severus immediately stopped thinking of that and snatched his hand away from his ear. 'Haven't you forgot that yet you stupid boy?' his own mind scolded him and he continued with the scrawl of writing, distinguishing flourishes on the page. No, he did not like Christmas. Good will and peace to mankind! Ha! What on earth could that mean? Did others not see the hate and evil and pain of the world? Did they not see the cruelty of everyday, pointless life? How could they not fear death? 'I would not fear death where it placed in my hand as a poison and if I were told to drink, I would oblige!' he thought bitterly, then realized really how quite sharp and roughly poetic his words had been. That made him stop writing quite abruptly, staring forward into the darkness of his chamber. Death. Still, after all this time his only thought would be to embrace it? This curiously made him feel suddenly uneasy and he saw the image of the dark mark flutter before his eyes. He closed them quickly. Then opened them slowly. Somehow, he felt the urge to write down the thought about death being poison and he did so, roughly jotting onto a spare scrap of parchment. The words looked queer on that page. He fancied he had heard them in a play, when he knew he had not. Stupid Christmas, pointless festival. All these unwanted memories flooding back.the lost earring that fell off in a bout of passion, the dark mark on his arm, a hideous tattoo for eternity. So many mixed emotions. He put down the quill with a sigh and stood up, running a pale hand through the greasy ebon hair. Maybe a walk around the castle would clear his thoughts.maybe he would find that Potter boy and his friends up to no good. 'That would be a pleasing gift for the Christmas holidays, getting Potter excluded' He thought with a cruel little smile, and then added on an afterthought: 'And I suppose I should check for any owls' He walked across the room, picked up his outer robe he had taken to wearing in the coldness Even a man like Snape could not bear this amount of cold weather. He opened the door and left, slamming it just slightly behind him. Severus looked instantly down the corridor. Nobody was there, it was quite empty. His own footsteps sounded oddly hollow as they echoed against the walls and he quickened his pace just a fraction, a nervous tremor prickling down his spine. The owlery was not far from here, which he was glad of, because he had a sudden surge for a letter to arrive. Or some form of outside contact at least. Enchanted Christmas torches flickered on the walls of Hogwarts and they were very pretty really.which made him not want to look at them. Things that were beautiful nearly always had a price to pay.and he had learnt that. He approached the owlery now, hearing a soft cooing and slight fluttering of wings. There would be very few owls now, as the majority of children had gone home for Christmas. Snape was grateful for this. Children were not good in his minds eye. As he stood in the doorway of the owlery a single black owl fluttered down and landed on his shoulder, the scaly talons tapping ever so lightly. The owl held out its leg, to which a thin roll of parchment was attached. Snape untied the letter and the owl glided back to the comfort of its perch. He noticed how the owls had huddled together. The letter had a green wax stamp. And Severus knew all too well where this had come from. The Malfoy stamp, he absently brushed his fingers over the symbol and eventually unraveled the letter, the Stamp not breaking really at all. Oh, how he knew that flourish of curly handwriting, almost italic. Dearest Severus, I imagine you will be joining us for the Christmas party as usual this year? I am terribly sorry about the short notice, as it is tomorrow, but what can I say? I am a busy man, my life is demanding. And you must pardon my lack of company when you arrive, for I myself will be rather tied down with some.newcomers. They just need a little impression, that's all. Yours knowingly, Lucius Malfoy. P.S. Fancy Dress, you wouldn't want to embarrass yourself now, would you?
Severus was fairly surprised with the letter, not with the content, oh no.but the quick pace it was written at was peculiar for Lucius. He usually took dignified time over letters, although, he understood why this was so rushed. The dark lord isn't exactly.patient. This thought made him grimace. But he smiled when he noticed the Signature, ah yes that was still signed in the perfected form of snakes and calligraphic letters.as was his name.It was quite strange really, how this man still wrote Severus's name the same after all these years, making the 'S' into a snake with a glint in it's beady delicate eye. Really quite endearing. 'Endearing? Lucius Malfoy endearing? I think not!' He chortled to himself and folded the letter, placing it carefully into the dark folds of his robe pocket. He would reply when he was back in the privacy of his room. He felt the sigh leave his lips, and he turned on his heel and made the thought to go and see Dumbledore. Of course he had to go to the party, there may have been valuable information.but he doubted it. Those parties could be incredibly vulgar. He did not enjoy them. The sickness was inhumane; a particular game they liked to play was something they decided to call "Stringing" Severus cared not to think about it.. Muggle women.strung up, the ropes cutting into her. being groped and.the blood and the screams.Severus shuddered. Definitely time to go and see Dumbledore. The corridor remained silent as he walked along, mind deep in concentration. Severus could recite the school corridors off the back of his hand. Without really looking at his surroundings, he was heading in the right direction.left turn, up three steps, right, left, left and pause.That made his head jerk up. Why in the hell had he paused here? This wasn't Dumbledore's office, why; it was merely just.an empty classroom. He hadn't stopped here since.he was 16. And now, at the age of 36, here he was. He didn't like it. Why? Why had something taken over his thoughts and brought him back to this fateful spot? Snape wanted desperately to tear his eyes away from the oak door.but he couldn't. He wanted to go in. He wanted to feel the weight as it shoved him against he door, he wanted to be able to hear the door creaking open then shut as they tumbled half heartedly inside, he wanted to hear faint laughs and the feel of.bruising, fevered lips on his own. 'NO!' Severus stopped himself, made a disgusted noise, and closing his eyes tight, turning quickly on his heel and standing there, facing away from the classroom.
'Forget! Just forget! It was a mistake, stupid, stupid mistake! You didn't feel what.you thought you did.a mistake, a silly mistake'
"Severus?" Snape's eyes flashed open and widened in embarrassment, flashing jet-black. He realized he had been stood there, blocking the hallway, not really knowing what he was doing.he was grateful again for the lack of irritating children. "Are you alright Severus?" For the first time he really focused on the speaker. Professor Mcgonnagol stood in front of him; hair scraped back, horn-rimmed glasses tipped to the edge of her thin nose. She raised a black eyebrow in a questioning posture. Severus coughed awkwardly in the back of his throat and tried to summon a sentence "I'm.I'm fine Minerva, now if you." "I think, you perhaps have something on your mind Severus?" She butted in, silencing his typically rude sentence. Snape suddenly felt he had fairly growled at the elderly witch, she had no right to question him! "I am fine, Minerva" he said, deathly quiet. She said nothing for a few moments, merely watching his expression. She had a stony face and Severus did not like it, remembering getting told off by her.bowing his head and thinking how he could repay Sirius Black for the Transfiguration accident. He was fairly surprised when she laughed, cheeks rosy. "Why, I could swear Severus Snape you look just like a teenager some days when I talk to you!" Snape felt his eye begging to twitch.did this women have any idea how annoying she was? The cackle of laughter rang in his ears. "Although, I doubt we will see you slouching round with an earring any time soon, will we now?" the thick Scottish accent lilted her voice. Severus gritted his teeth.he felt sick just remembering that earring.remembering the classroom. His stomach churned rancid and the laughter stopped abruptly and fell flat in the cold air. Silence. Snape felt his mind spin slightly, feeling a little queasy. "Are you sure nothing is wrong Severus? You really don't look well at all" He couldn't hold it in any longer, he had to say this.let it out. "You want to know what is wrong? Shall I tell you what is wrong?" he hissed, eyes narrowing to black slits in his gaunt face. Minerva said nothing but he continued. "I'm called Severus Snape, I am Severus Snape, that's whats wrong Minerva! Now if you don't mind I'm going to see Dumbledore" With that he shoved past the elderly witch and stormed off down the corridor, rapidly approaching Dumbledore's secret staircase. "Fizzing Whizzbees" he whispered hatefully, harsh, rushed voice, and, with that he rushed up the staircase, black robes billowing behind him. ~*~ "So, you see Headmaster, I won't be available tomorrow" Said Severus, softly pressing a hand to his forehead and looking down at his feet. The polished leather of his boots flickered in the ever-moving candlelight. He heard Dumbledore chuckle softly. "Well, I'm sure we will miss your company" The elderly headmaster said gently, placing the letter from Lucius down on his desk, which was cluttered by many odd contraptions. "Any ideas in particular?" "What?" "Why, don't tell me you've forgotten already Severus!" he laughed, leaning back leisurely. He decided to enlighten the confused Professor. "Fancy Dress" "Oh." "Maybe a Vampire?" Dumbledore chuckled. Severus wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he didn't bother. He didn't feel in the most talkative of manners anyway. "Severus? Anything you'd like to talk about?" He winced. Why did everybody want to make him speak? Damn them and their common kindness. "No, I'm fine, I assure you Albus" he said witheringly, turning his stony gaze to the headmasters wizened features. Dumbledore sighed. "You should not dwell on the past, Severus, it does the heart no good" Snape stood up, a rigid statue in black, a demon of nighttime. "There is no past to dwell on" and with that slightly harsh remark he left, turning on the sharp heel of his shoe. He heard Albus sigh once again, and fancied it had upset him greatly.and this made him feel a little guilty but an apology would make things, worse, so he merely left. Silently. "And no heart either" he concluded behind the closed door, his feet finding themselves down the winding path of the staircase. How familiar it all was.how carefree the way one could get sued to such conditions. Fantastic really. 'Roll on Saturday' He thought to himself glumly, running a thin hand through his greasy, ebon hair. It didn't matter if he washed it or not, it was always just a horrible black mess. But he couldn't resist it.as he walked down the corridor; he paused once again, staring heatedly at invisible memories.invisible figures.invisible words.and he could feel them, see them.hear them. 'I love you.I didn't mean it.I promise.I'm sorry, I'm so sorry'
~*~ Saturday. It was Saturday. God, he was nervous. He was terrified, petrified. 'I'm frightened' he thought to himself, suddenly feeling very small and child like. He wished he was a small child.a really, really small child. He wished he were dead. And what of his mother? Was she already dead? He couldn't tell.maybe she had been dead for a long time.maybe the night of her death was the night she met his father. Oh, his father. How he hated him. How he loved him. How he wished he were dead. Why was the family blood so bad? Why was it so.black? So impure? Of course they were an ancient bloodline, pure wizarding blood.but it wasn't good. None of it, all hell spawns blood. And he hated it, he hated himself. Draco gently brought a thin comb back through his pale blonde hair, watching the path the fine teeth made across his head. He was satisfied, it was neat enough. That sickened him. How vain, to have to preen yourself like an over coloured bird, fluffing his bold chest forward. What a beastly show off.poor creature. Fancy Dress. Why on Earth had his father picked such a subject? Then he reminded himself, it was probably something to do with his mother's intervention. He sighed.he looked ridiculous. Draco had dressed as a devil.not exactly a stereotypical Devil, but.pretty similar. He was wearing black trousers, tight fitting black trousers. He frowned.he didn't like the tight trousers.and he had also half-heartedly chosen a white shirt, topped with a red waistcoat.tarty really, but, he supposed, perhaps what the devil would look like. A human Devil. Was that possible? Then he had added the horns. Red Sequins flashed in the dancing rays of light against his blonde hair, like stains of blood, swirling on cream satin. A primal belief in the eyes of man, horns to behead the beast. But his face still looked empty and pale. Nausea. He noticed that his eyes looked red.sore and tierd out from the tears. Blood shot. He closed them and tilted his head back, averting the disrupting gaze of the mirror. Fear still pulsed through his veins, underneath the almost composed surface. Oh, how he wished at times like this he had never been born.and he nearly screamed. When he opened his eyes again somebody else was stood with him in the mirror. "Jesus Christ!" Draco cried, eyes widening. It was just his mother. How had she snuck into his room so quietly? He must have been wound up not too notice her, for she looked extremely eye catching in her latest fancy dress outfit. "Draco dear, when did 'Jesus Christ' become a proper wizarding insult?" she said softly, a smile twisting her lips. "Cleopatra does not approve?" he questioned to her, not turning round. Her face was beautifully painted up, the paleness lost to the fake tan of Egypt, and the Queen of Beauty. Her eyes were outlined to perfection, the ice blue now seemingly grey against the ash black of her sooty eyelashes, and eyelids.or were her eyelids black? No. They were covered in some brilliant purple liquid glitter, smudged casually, as though to give the appearance they had only taken two minutes. Her maids new better. "Ah hah, so my outfit does not deceive!" she laughed fragrantly, tipping her head when she spoke so her jet-black beaded wig fell over her shoulders, gleaming in luster. Artificial luster. "Hmmm, you need something" she murmured, cupping her sons face in her hand. Draco didn't respond to the touch. The conventional Cleopatra reached inside her handbag and rooted till she found something. "Here you go" Draco suddenly turned round. "Oh no, I'm not wearing eyeliner!" "Ohhhh.. Come on Draco, don't be a spoil sport!" She whined, attempting to catch her son with a faint grin. Draco licked his lips and stayed far away from the deadly weapon. "No" "Draco darling!" "No! I'm not a glamour queen!" "Oh you're so like you're father.some times I can't tell the difference!" he stopped. Was that true? Was he just like his father? He hoped she was winding him up.he would do anything too not be like him. "Ok.fine, but don't go overboard" Narcissa smiled in triumph, her whole appearance and way of speech completely out of character. Draco winced. "Don't squirm" "I'm not" He felt the cool pencil of eyeliner being applied to his sensitive eyes, and they watered slightly.he hoped she wouldn't think he was crying. Nausea. A sudden hot flush of the pain came over him.
'Perhaps you'd like to.circulate?'
No! He shoved the words to the back of his head and flexed his knuckles in irritation. His mother seemed not to notice. "And.there! Done!" she clapped her hands together and turned him around to face the looking glass. Draco was shocked. His eyes looked.stunning. Black, delicate lines made his eyes stand out, like two glass orbs, glinting in the light. He swallowed, overcome by his own reflection. "Not a glamour Queen! Ha!" "I'm not," he said defensively.but also a little fondly. His mother smiled then picked something up off of his chest of drawers. "Oh and.don't forget these" with that she dropped a pair of transparent red sunglasses into his hands and left the room with a wink of her beautiful Egyptian eye. Draco suddenly felt like the eye of Horus was looking down upon him and no one but him. And it felt a little frightening. ~*~ 'Bloody Weather' He snapped to himself 'Sodding Snow' Severus Snape tramped up the Malfoy's elaborate pathway, Icy snow beating against his face and leaving a stinging sensation on his cheeks. His body felt frozen and uncomfortable in the shrill blasts of wind. But, soon, he would be in the warmth of the party and he would be surrounded by merry partygoers.Severus was not sure if he liked this idea. He could see the lights of the big mansion up ahead, blurred by the snow like some old Christmas movie. It looked welcoming. And from the distance he heard the electric tinge of music as it blared out of inevitably large speakers. The snow was getting deeper; he could feel his feet sinking through it, the cold ran up through his legs. Suddenly he was thankful for the enchanted white flame torches that shimmered gracefully on either side of the pathway. They provided a certain.security as it were. A young couple suddenly came running past, the mans arms wrapped around the smaller figure of the female. It wasn't clear what the male of the two had come dressed as, but his girlfriend seemed to be some sort of cat. Severus caught glimpses of her painted face in the eerie light as she ran past, whispering that she was cold to her partner and snuggling up to him even further. It almost sickened him.or maybe it was a feeling created by sickened jealousy. He stopped thinking about it. Yes, he was drawing closer to the dreaded festivities.and yet again that unexplainable feeling came over him.and he was back in that classroom. Needy kisses, desperate pants, fevered kissed, hot bodies.chaste kisses. The ebon haired man growled at himself, and forced himself to walk quicker, hoping the unwanted feelings might flee. They tended not to care for leaving. "Ahh.Severus.you made it" Snape felt a chill run up his spine, his skin prickled towards the soft purr of the words. Cat like, sensuous words. Seductive. He looked up. Lucius Malfoy smiled down at him, deeply lidded eyelids gazing intently on the other man. "I did indeed Lucius" he replied quietly. "A vampire I see? How very.elegant" "I assure you Lucius, it was not my idea" The blonde wizard raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. Snape used his bemused silence to the advantage. "And you? What of your outfit?" "Why! Can you not see?" The potions master examined the outfit. "A pharaoh? Egyptian?" The other nodded in reply. It surprised Snape that he had not noticed the outfit before; after all, his face was even painted and made-up with the colours and style of Egypt. The two men stared at each other, silently. Severus felt an ache inside.and chose to ignore it. They both suddenly became uncomfortable. "Severus! Darling, oh you made it!" Mrs. Malfoy suddenly pounced out of nowhere and attacked Severus with open arms in a tight embrace.he was unusually thankful. She smelt very strongly of perfume. And, when he was finally released, Lucius had gone. He sighed, almost down heartedly. "My greetings, Narcissa" she laughed and threw her head backwards. "Ah, always the morbid one! Come! Join the party!" and with that she grabbed his hand and dragged him off to the menagerie of coloured lights, loud music, fine wine, beer and laughter. ~*~ "Draco" Draco Malfoy leapt round as somebody hissed his name into his ear. He sighed in relief. Just his father. "Come, I wish you to meet somebody" he said coldly, beckoning Draco across the room to a group of dark looking strangers. Draco swallowed and obeyed, then gathered the little confidence that resided in his soul. He walked behind his father, although he knew it annoyed him.but maybe he would be missed if he were hidden in his shadow. Silly lie. "Ah, Demetrius, here, meet my son, Draco" Draco stepped forward and shivered as a man with dark eyes and black hair bowed slightly at him. He was tall, lean and well built with thin, beautiful hands. Draco hated him already. "Tres Jolie" he murmured softly, the French lilting his voice, as he took Draco's hand and kissed it. Draco shuddered, but recovered himself when his fathers glare shook him. "Merci" he replied, hearing the chuckle from the apparently French wizard. "Marcus, Phoe, this is Draco" Two more men. Marcus was a finely groomed brunette with almost golden brown eyes, freckled with a strange glow of Amber. They made the younger blonde uneasy. "Greetings" He said softly, but not taking his hand. He spoke in crisp English. "I trust the evening fairs thee well?" The man named Phoe spoke now, also speaking in the clear dialect of Marcus. Marcus was blonde, but a richer, darker more golden blonde then himself. His eyes almost looked violet, but it was as always hard to tell in the fluttering enchanted lights. "As fair as it possibly could" Draco said softly, standing rigidly and uneasily. 'That could have more meanings than one' he thought. The three men chuckled. "He is impeccably like you Lucius" Said Demetrius, that peculiar smile on his features, even in his deep eyes. The eldest Malfoy laughed contentedly. "So I am told by many" He picked up a wine flute off a passing tray, the waitress not stopping as he plucked the glass "But I am afraid I must leave you now, so please, do get better.acquainted" Then, the Egyptian dressed man was lost to the blurs of people. Draco watched him go, and then turned slowly, feeling the gaze of the French wizard on him. Marcus and Phoe had gone without a trace. It surprised him and he felt himself blink. "Do not look so terrified Monsieur Draco, here, have a little wine" He nodded solemnly and accepted the wine glass, cautiously sipping at the strong taste. It was a good wine.infact, not like any he had tasted. It had a peculiar fragrant taste and almost bitterness to the tongue. "Please, sit with me a little, we should talk" Demetrius took his hand once more and lead him to a seat next to him. The teenage wizard sat awkwardly, feeling more like he was being treated like a dainty courtesan every second. Draco sipped the wine again. He stared plaintively into the crystal glass wear, seeing his reflection wavering in the liquid. Even in the wine his eyes stood up. It unnerved him for some reason.to be drinking this wine. The sweetness was unnatural.yet perfectly natural. "I must say, Monsieur Draco, your eyes look quite fabulous" He felt himself flourish with a pale blush. He had the sinking suspicion this French gentleman could read minds.he hoped not. "Thankyou" He replied awkwardly, not returning the gaze. The two sat in silence, Draco sipping his wine thirstily, his throat felt brittle and the wine was so alluring and sweet. Demetrius eyed Draco in deadly quiet. "More wine?" He had plenty left but.he supposed it seemed rude not to accept more. "Oui, bien" Demetrius laughed again, filling the blondes glass to the rim. He let his eyes fall into Draco's and it made him once again uneasy.there was something.something there. "Quite the French man! Now, we toast" Demetrius continued, perhaps not sensing the presence and fear of the younger man. "Toast to what?" "A fantastic party and.a fantastic companion" he said looking directly into Draco's eyes. The feeling of nausea.could it be so bad? What on earth was wrong with him? They chinked glasses again and Draco quickly took the drink, all the while, not noticing the thick potion that was fizzing away inside the wine. "Cest Magnifique" Demetrius laughed in the same way as he had done before. Draco knew he was blushing, he felt it creeping to his face, like poison ivy twining round a pillar. And what of the wine? Why was it so sweet? Why did he crave it so? Demetrius must have spotted the curious look on the youth's face for he attempted to distract his thoughts with conversation. "Tell me Draco, do you have a.partner?" For a brief second, something chimed in Draco's head and a lot of warnings and fear and panic suddenly flooded back to him. His eyes widened in fear. 'Beware! This is a trick!' His conscious hissed solemnly. "Drink up Draco" Was that Demetrius? He couldn't really tell anymore, his mind had started swimming in colours. He felt tipsy, nauseous.and still, that over impending fear of doom. This wine.it was poison, it had to be. Draco nearly gasped as searing pain shot through his mind.
'Danger!'
"N.no." he croaked, closing his eyes, feeling stinging sensations behind them. It felt painful to keep them open. So many colours, so many lights, so many. "Well that's good" Demetrius whispered roughly. He felt hot breath around his face, he felt himself being moved from his seat, strong hands on his body. He felt fragile. Hot, awkward breath. The music in the background thumped, sensual, sexy, slow hard rhythm. It felt seductive. The electric singers murmuring imaginary words into the seductive beat of the song. Draco tried getting away, his mind still screaming the deathly warnings. "No.no.let me." "Sssh" "No! P.please" his breath felt tight in his chest, knots turning themselves over in his stomach. Rancid sick. He thought he would throw up there and then. And then Demetrius' lips were on his. Hot, wet lips capturing his lips. He couldn't move, let alone respond. The taste of the wine, it was fluid from their mouths and he wanted the wine. So he kissed back, hearing the other man groan as there tongues wrestled. Such a strange groan, rising from deep inside him. Heat, wet and moist. Draco wanted to break free, but now the lips were forcing demanding, bruising against his own. There was little air but.the taste of wine. He moved his arms, around the others neck.or was it a dream? Where was he really? It didn't matter, it just didn't matter. Just the wine. The desirable wine.let it continue. Draco suddenly felt and heard words from the others mouth as they moved against his lips.
"You're mine"
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Reviews Welcome =D I know, it's bad; it's bad, lmao! ~*~Blue~*~