Author's Note: My apologies -- I've been suffering from writer's block
lately -- And, as always, I apologize for the short chapters
For those who asked, Chapter Nineteen was simply an interlude -- I wanted a break from all of the Tom/ Harry angst -- Think of it as taking place about a few weeks after Chapter Eighteen
And thanks to Sparks (and Sophie Black)
Chapter Twenty -- Interception
Lucius Malfoy, cloaked in black, paced back and forth across his chambers. His lips were pursed in silent contemplation, his hands clenched behind his back. Draco slouched on the window seat, studying a volume on the Dark Arts. Every now and then his kittenish eyes would peer up to observe his father.
"Are you alright, Father?" Draco asked, closing the book and pushing it aside. "You seem so . . . distracted."
"Not at all, Draco," the current Dark Lord muttered. "There's a difference between distracted and pensive, my child."
"Oh," Draco sighed, sliding from the window seat onto the carpet. He paused for a moment -- His eyes carefully examining his father's boots. He'd seen those boots before: The sunbleached chestnut boots with the bronze tipped heel. Severus Snape, Hogwarts' esteemed Potions Master, owned an identical pair. "What are the Circles of Aralise?" Draco questioned, his eyes still locked on the cool glimmer of bronze. "Why are they so important?"
"The Circles of Aralise are a confidential matter," Lucius snapped, his lips contorting into an impatient scowl. Draco recoiled as if his father had slapped him. Lucius spoke again, softer this time: "They are of no concern to you, Draco. You'll find out soon enough."
Sitting down on the floor, Lucius gathered his son's porcelain body into his arms. "When I was your age," Lucius whispered, his breath sweet against Draco's flesh, "I was extremely ambitious. I wanted power and prestige above all things, of course. I also wanted to be loved . . ." Lucius laid his tardy lips against his son's cheek, kissing him gently. "But I wasn't the only one who wanted affection and companionship." Lucius' eyes darkened to the gray of a tempest and spent lightening flickered behind the pupils.
Lucius remembered back in 1979 when Voldemort had fawned over that lanky child with the edgy black eyes. He remembered the time when a Malfoy had to gnaw on the muscles of his cheeks to keep from lashing out. He remembered being forgotten -- The pretty blonde plaything tossed into a darkened corner. Lucius remembered all of the ridicule he faced: "You have no self- respect, no integrity. You'll hopelessly degrade yourself if you think it will advance your place in the world by any means. Why, look at you now! The subservient slut! For God's sake Lucius, put your legs together and act modestly for once."
"You were so mistaken, Tom," Lucius thought to himself. "I degraded myself because I thought that it might bring you pleasure. I never slept with you for power and prestige. There are far more effective ways to reach those goals. I slept with you simply because I wanted to."
Lucius remembered the mockery that had ensued: "I assure you. I do not want that boy for physical gratification. I admit that even the thought of bedding Severus Snape makes me ill. As you have so prominently noted, his physical traits are lacking . . . And that is putting the matter mildly. He's a horrid little thing."
In 1979, Lucius peered through the crack in Voldemort's door and saw them together for the first time. Voldemort, so elegant even in the grips of passion, thrusting himself into that insolent child spread before him. Severus Snape, the pride of the potions department, lying under the Dark Lord with his legs spread. "Yes Tom," Lucius thought to himself. "I'm sure that you were thinking 'what a horrid little thing' when you were pounding him into the mattress."
Draco squirmed his way out of the tight embrace and laid his head on his father's boots, gently licking the toe with the tip of his tongue -- Rough and pink.
"You're the only thing that matters now, Draco," Lucius announced, smoothing his son's hair back with the palm of his hand. "Nothing else -- No one else -- is more important than you. Everything I do, child, is done with your future in mind. The Circles of Aralise will be defended. We will conquer." A pause as Lucius' thumb ran over Draco's bottom lip.
"You will be great."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------
Tom Riddle sat at his desk, scribbling out sequences of numbers onto a piece of paper. His eyes squinted slightly and he bit his tongue in concentration. "Ninety-three . . . Sixty-eight . . . Forty-two . . . Eighty- three . . . And . . ." He paused for a moment, thought to himself, and then continued jotting down more numbers. Harry, meanwhile, sat on the edge of the bed -- Obviously bored.
"Do you want to go play some Quidditch?" Harry asked suddenly, rocking back and forth against the mattress causing the springs to creak.
"Twenty-five . . . No, not really . . . Fifty-nine . . ."
Harry glanced out the window. "How about going down to Hogsmeade? We could grab a glass of butterbeer and stop by a couple of the shops?"
"Thirty-two . . . Ninety-eight . . . No, thank you . . . Forty-seven . . ."
"What are you working on that's so important anyway?" Harry sighed, beyond exasperated.
"Just those projects," Tom said vaguely, waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Nothing too important." Tom bit down on his pencil, embedding teeth marks into the wood. "Why don't you go downstairs and . . ." He paused for a moment, taking down another series of numbers. "And visit your friends or something?"
Harry stared shrewdly at his partner. "Yeah," he finally announced. "Ron and Hermione are probably preoccupied since we have that potions paper due tomorrow . . . But you know, I'm sure Severus is free. I could probably go down and visit with him."
"Sounds like a good idea," Tom replied, his eyes never leaving the expanse of parchment.
"You aren't listening to a word I'm saying," Harry declared, getting up from the bed and walking over to stand beside Tom. "I just want to spend some time with you," he admitted, kissing the fabric clothing Tom's shoulder. "You always seem to be busy though . . ."
"I'm sorry," Tom said, putting his pencil down and looking up at the Gryffindor. "I just have to get this work done. Look -- I'll be through with this later tonight and then we can spend some quality time together. I'll take you out for a walk or something."
"How exciting," Harry scoffed. "A walk."
"You're horrid," Tom laughed, kissing Harry on the side of his neck. "I understand. Things haven't been too . . ." Tom sighed, thinking of the words to use. "Our relationship isn't the best one, I know . . ."
"Did you ever expect it to be perfect?" Harry laughed, leaning against the back of the chair. "Besides, we're working on it."
Tom paused for a moment, reaching to squeeze one of Harry's hands in his own.
"I'll be done in a couple hours," Tom said, picking his pencil up again and studying his number sequences. Harry headed out the door. "Oh and Harry . . ."
The Gryffindor pivoted on his heels.
"If you go down to see Severus, I'll come and fetch you myself."
Author's Note: Next time -- The plot thickens
For those who asked, Chapter Nineteen was simply an interlude -- I wanted a break from all of the Tom/ Harry angst -- Think of it as taking place about a few weeks after Chapter Eighteen
And thanks to Sparks (and Sophie Black)
Chapter Twenty -- Interception
Lucius Malfoy, cloaked in black, paced back and forth across his chambers. His lips were pursed in silent contemplation, his hands clenched behind his back. Draco slouched on the window seat, studying a volume on the Dark Arts. Every now and then his kittenish eyes would peer up to observe his father.
"Are you alright, Father?" Draco asked, closing the book and pushing it aside. "You seem so . . . distracted."
"Not at all, Draco," the current Dark Lord muttered. "There's a difference between distracted and pensive, my child."
"Oh," Draco sighed, sliding from the window seat onto the carpet. He paused for a moment -- His eyes carefully examining his father's boots. He'd seen those boots before: The sunbleached chestnut boots with the bronze tipped heel. Severus Snape, Hogwarts' esteemed Potions Master, owned an identical pair. "What are the Circles of Aralise?" Draco questioned, his eyes still locked on the cool glimmer of bronze. "Why are they so important?"
"The Circles of Aralise are a confidential matter," Lucius snapped, his lips contorting into an impatient scowl. Draco recoiled as if his father had slapped him. Lucius spoke again, softer this time: "They are of no concern to you, Draco. You'll find out soon enough."
Sitting down on the floor, Lucius gathered his son's porcelain body into his arms. "When I was your age," Lucius whispered, his breath sweet against Draco's flesh, "I was extremely ambitious. I wanted power and prestige above all things, of course. I also wanted to be loved . . ." Lucius laid his tardy lips against his son's cheek, kissing him gently. "But I wasn't the only one who wanted affection and companionship." Lucius' eyes darkened to the gray of a tempest and spent lightening flickered behind the pupils.
Lucius remembered back in 1979 when Voldemort had fawned over that lanky child with the edgy black eyes. He remembered the time when a Malfoy had to gnaw on the muscles of his cheeks to keep from lashing out. He remembered being forgotten -- The pretty blonde plaything tossed into a darkened corner. Lucius remembered all of the ridicule he faced: "You have no self- respect, no integrity. You'll hopelessly degrade yourself if you think it will advance your place in the world by any means. Why, look at you now! The subservient slut! For God's sake Lucius, put your legs together and act modestly for once."
"You were so mistaken, Tom," Lucius thought to himself. "I degraded myself because I thought that it might bring you pleasure. I never slept with you for power and prestige. There are far more effective ways to reach those goals. I slept with you simply because I wanted to."
Lucius remembered the mockery that had ensued: "I assure you. I do not want that boy for physical gratification. I admit that even the thought of bedding Severus Snape makes me ill. As you have so prominently noted, his physical traits are lacking . . . And that is putting the matter mildly. He's a horrid little thing."
In 1979, Lucius peered through the crack in Voldemort's door and saw them together for the first time. Voldemort, so elegant even in the grips of passion, thrusting himself into that insolent child spread before him. Severus Snape, the pride of the potions department, lying under the Dark Lord with his legs spread. "Yes Tom," Lucius thought to himself. "I'm sure that you were thinking 'what a horrid little thing' when you were pounding him into the mattress."
Draco squirmed his way out of the tight embrace and laid his head on his father's boots, gently licking the toe with the tip of his tongue -- Rough and pink.
"You're the only thing that matters now, Draco," Lucius announced, smoothing his son's hair back with the palm of his hand. "Nothing else -- No one else -- is more important than you. Everything I do, child, is done with your future in mind. The Circles of Aralise will be defended. We will conquer." A pause as Lucius' thumb ran over Draco's bottom lip.
"You will be great."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------
Tom Riddle sat at his desk, scribbling out sequences of numbers onto a piece of paper. His eyes squinted slightly and he bit his tongue in concentration. "Ninety-three . . . Sixty-eight . . . Forty-two . . . Eighty- three . . . And . . ." He paused for a moment, thought to himself, and then continued jotting down more numbers. Harry, meanwhile, sat on the edge of the bed -- Obviously bored.
"Do you want to go play some Quidditch?" Harry asked suddenly, rocking back and forth against the mattress causing the springs to creak.
"Twenty-five . . . No, not really . . . Fifty-nine . . ."
Harry glanced out the window. "How about going down to Hogsmeade? We could grab a glass of butterbeer and stop by a couple of the shops?"
"Thirty-two . . . Ninety-eight . . . No, thank you . . . Forty-seven . . ."
"What are you working on that's so important anyway?" Harry sighed, beyond exasperated.
"Just those projects," Tom said vaguely, waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Nothing too important." Tom bit down on his pencil, embedding teeth marks into the wood. "Why don't you go downstairs and . . ." He paused for a moment, taking down another series of numbers. "And visit your friends or something?"
Harry stared shrewdly at his partner. "Yeah," he finally announced. "Ron and Hermione are probably preoccupied since we have that potions paper due tomorrow . . . But you know, I'm sure Severus is free. I could probably go down and visit with him."
"Sounds like a good idea," Tom replied, his eyes never leaving the expanse of parchment.
"You aren't listening to a word I'm saying," Harry declared, getting up from the bed and walking over to stand beside Tom. "I just want to spend some time with you," he admitted, kissing the fabric clothing Tom's shoulder. "You always seem to be busy though . . ."
"I'm sorry," Tom said, putting his pencil down and looking up at the Gryffindor. "I just have to get this work done. Look -- I'll be through with this later tonight and then we can spend some quality time together. I'll take you out for a walk or something."
"How exciting," Harry scoffed. "A walk."
"You're horrid," Tom laughed, kissing Harry on the side of his neck. "I understand. Things haven't been too . . ." Tom sighed, thinking of the words to use. "Our relationship isn't the best one, I know . . ."
"Did you ever expect it to be perfect?" Harry laughed, leaning against the back of the chair. "Besides, we're working on it."
Tom paused for a moment, reaching to squeeze one of Harry's hands in his own.
"I'll be done in a couple hours," Tom said, picking his pencil up again and studying his number sequences. Harry headed out the door. "Oh and Harry . . ."
The Gryffindor pivoted on his heels.
"If you go down to see Severus, I'll come and fetch you myself."
Author's Note: Next time -- The plot thickens