Declining

Disclaimer: Still not mine. I should really get into gear and actually steal them already [sigh].

Today's inspiration is drawn from the lovely and sultry tones of Alex Band, the Calling. Have been listening to the old Camino Palmero album whilst writing this, and the sense of betrayal in Adrienne, coupled with the general darkness of the whole album (and my love of Stigmatized...) helped me a lot in getting the chapter started. So – woo for the Calling (even if they did break up forever ago.)

In the last chapter, we got to see Draco, the ultimate drama queen! There was random jumping into the past via penseives, angsty but fluffy love between Severus and Lucius. I think I may well have scarred Draco's poor virgin mind forevermore though... For which I apologise to the lad profusely! And then...The Kiss. And yes, I do believe it warrants capital letters now. So, anyway, now we get to see Lucius' reaction, Draco contemplating what he has just done, and watch as the realisation of Lucius' interests dawns upon our dearest potions master.

Warning: Ah, the joys of incest. It is in there my friends. So is murder, implications of characters self-harming (though nothing shown.), jealousy, but fluff yet again instilled in places.


Lucius walked the empty, echoing hallways in disarrayed perplexity. All those years... All that time I spent trying to prevent myself from becoming my father... Not once – never in my life did I dream that...he would... He reached up a trembling hand to gently touch his own lips, trying to find the validation that this had been real. By flickering his tongue over his bottom lip, he was able to taste the slightest hint of sweetness – of Draco.

Lucius knew it must be Draco, because his own mouth tasted only of the vile aftertaste left by too much drinking. But, the taste he'd discovered was of coffee and chocolate, suffused with the minty freshness supplied by a recent brushing of the teeth. He delighted in these flavours, taking obscene pleasure in picking the sweetness apart and supplying reasons for it. Draco adores coffee, and chocolate for that matter...and he always brushes after every meal (when he can).

The smile that had dawned upon his face, fell when he saw where his feet had taken him. In violation of his inattentive and wandering mind, they had bought him to an old part of the manor.

The underground walls held a much thicker coating of both moss and dust than they had the last time Lucius was here. The scent of whatever delightful foods were being prepared for Narcissa's guests pervaded the air, and his smile returned when he smelled roasting coffee beans.

Reaching out with the same hand he had placed to his lips earlier, the Malfoy patriarch touched the wall nearest to him, marvelling once more at his own property. It was damp to the touch, but warmed by the great fires in the kitchens beyond. As usual, a small layer of moss clung to his fingertips, and he uncaringly wiped it across his once-immaculate white shirt, leaving muddy streaks on the expensive fabric. His regard for his appearance had been severely depleted during the course of the day, and he plunged his (still filthy) hands into his pockets, and slouched against the wall. The strange sensation of cool, damp moss and the warmth of the kitchen through the wall but easily through his shirt, the moss giving the garment a distinctly brown colour.

He looked at the opposite wall, noticing that not only was there moss, but also a vast colony of fungi. Tiny mushrooms poked milky white caps from beneath green fronds, growing at, what seemed to him, impossible angles. But, this wall all just unimportant background noise (as it were) to him – the most vivid image he could picture was Draco...

The boy sitting astride him, only this time he was fully clothed – embracing him, sobbing slightly, and then placing uncertain lips against his.

So, so right.

And so incredibly wrong.

Lucius turned his red-rimmed eyes to the lichen covered ceiling, wondering who exactly it was up there that hated him this much. You'd think they'd done enough to me already, without this. It's just – wrong! I...I cannot pursue this.

Even though he was the one that kissed you? Hardly seems sporting, the hissing voice wheedled, employing sugary tones to point this fact out.

He...he did...but no! What if I have this all wrong anyway? Perhaps he was just trying to comfort me or-

Nonsense. He's willing to be taken, so take him before he changes his mind!

He'll hate me, Lucius protested weakly, sliding down the wall, bringing the moss with him; it clung to his back and hair as he brushed across the stones.

He won't...and you'll finally have what you want...after all this time... Lucius closed his eyes as he met with the floor, and all he could see was Draco. Everywhere behind his eyelids – Draco.

Smiling. Laughing. Frowning. Kissing. Making love.

Everything he wanted – no – needed. But still, he was not completely won over by the idea. A shimmer of something misted his vision, and a tiny voice fought to be heard. The Malfoy man struggled strongly against the tide of lust, fighting against the raging current as he floundered upstream. Tiny snippets of heated protestation filtered through, though everything was heavily muffled. ...your son...hurt him...can't betray...love but in love... He buried his head in his hands, and let out a sharp yelp of pure frustration. And suddenly...

Silence. Blissful, merciful silence. And only his own thoughts left – the one voice he had always relied upon. Don't listen to it all – those are just the kind of things the Dark Lord would promise. They're not right, and they'll never happen. Ever.

He dared to look up from his hands, half expecting his cry to have bought people running. Obviously, he had gone unheard, and, infinitely glad of this, he struggled back to his feet. He followed the hallway around, until he came to a bricked up dead-end. Patting around in his pockets, he searched for his wand. Lucius found it, but didn't draw it immediately. Instead. In the pause between actions, he studied the strange appearance of new brick against old stone.

When the incantation he'd wanted reached the forefront of his mind, Lucius immediately said it into the musty air. The wall of red bricks vibrated slightly in their settings, and a few from the middle tumbled to the floor on the other side of the wall. Dust clouds erupted as cement crumbled into nothing, allowing the once-solid structure to wobble unstably when he nudged it with his toe. After a deep breath, and after replacing his wand into his belt, Lucius pressed both palms flat against the tottering brick pile.

With a minimal amount of exertion, he succeeded in toppling them like a child does building blocks. The dust billowed all around, making visibility close to zero, and he couched softly as he waited for the powder to settle from the air. When it had, he lit his wand with a hastily murmured, "Lumos," as he took it out once more. He held it aloft so that it would cast more light.

Broken furniture lay everywhere, now covered in an even thicker layer of dust after his messy entrance. Lucius carefully picked his way over the collapsed wall and into the musty old room. He stopped by two chair-like protrusions, and bent down to study the nearest one. There was stuffing poking out of a gaping hole at the top... So many years...he bricked it up the same Christmas he found it.

Where the Malfoy patriarch had expected to find solace, he only found a detached anger. It was pointed at so many people and in so many directions that he couldn't decide how to let it out. Carelessly, he pushed a pile of broken records, chair pieces and clods of dust out of the way – when his hand hit something cool and smooth, he suddenly stopped, and pointed the tip of his wand at it.

The breath hitched in Lucius' throat as he picked up the almost perfectly intact china cup – his mother's cup. The handle had snapped off, and a large chip marred the rim; otherwise, it was still perfect. He choked slightly, tears and dust hindering his breathing, and all of his anger turned around.

See what you did? You may as well have been the one to do it, you fool! It was all your fault!

No...it was-

'Your father'? Bollocks. If it weren't for you, she'd still be alive! Useless, ungrateful little-

You're right...the cup fell from now limp hands, and finally shattered after all the years it had managed to keep together.

The porcelain shards glinted in a world otherwise mottled with the dust of age. Lucius looked at it morosely, and then reached out a hand to pick up one of the larger pieces. Turning it over, blue eyes widened when he saw a daisy at the centre of the floral pattern on the ex-vessel. Draco...once more, he allowed the china to fall to the floor, and then he forced himself to his feet. I have to go and see him.

And say what exactly? 'Sorry son, but I'm madly in love with you, so we can either shag, or you can live with someone else to keep yourself safe'. The voice mocked him, and he stopped halfway through scaling the pile of rubble to get out of the room. Well, what do you propose to do then, oh 'genius-one'?

I don't know. But anything is better than leaving him alone right now. The voice had no comment to that, and he continued his journey back up to the manor proper.


Draco stared at the closed door, suspended in time and completely still. It was only the sight of Severus returning from the study that bought him to his senses. He blinked once...twice...thrice... And then suddenly realised what he'd just done. Flushing deeply, he balled his fists, digging nails into the soft flesh of his palms and silently cursing himself. What have I done? He thought hopelessly to himself, the events of the entire day now turning over in his head.

Severus coughed lightly, drawing his attention. "Where's Lucius?" Draco just looked forlornly at the door. The potions-master caught his meaning, though the quizzical look on his face told Draco that he hadn't witnessed the Malfoy heir's...forward...nature. "Why'd he go?" Severus looked down at him, and Draco just shrugged, and supplied a soft,

"I'm no sure." His voice wavered, and he stumbled to his feet, using the fallen sofa to help himself up. "I'll just go look for him," he murmured, noticing as he swept a trembling hand over his tear-stained features that his nails had drawn blood from his palms. He quickly dropped his hand, slipping both into his pockets to hide the wounds.

"I'll come with you," Severus declared.

"No, that's alri-" Draco began.

"I'll go with you, Draco. You father's not in a good way," Severus cut across him, employing his commanding teaching voice.

"Fine," Draco answered darkly. He hadn't been intending to look for Lucius at all. He'd just been contemplating going back to his own chambers, to purge himself. There's something seriously wrong with me. This...can't...be...normal! As his raven-haired professor padded feline-like over to the door, he wrapped his arms around himself, and let out a half-choked sob.

Severus stopped immediately, and looked with worry at the young Malfoy. He opened his mouth to say something, but the blond beat him to it. "Don't even think about asking me what's wrong," he said through gritted teeth, looking stubbornly to the left of the other man. He had the same commanding tone that Lucius had always had... "Let's just go." Severus lingered on the thresh-hold, obviously wanting to query the teen, but after just one look of those grey eyes, he didn't dare.

After everything that happened to dad. All of it – I can understand why he does – the things – he does. Draco decided, wincing at the green carpet that met him when they got out into the main hallway. I think I hate the colour green. He followed Severus, who seemed to know his way through the manor well. I wonder how long he's been with father? Draco thought, feeling the interest of an outsider, rather than relative.

As they walked hallway after hallway, corridor after corridor, the young Malfoy began making his deductions. Only that same morning he had known – well – practically nothing about his father. And now – almost a whole of lifetime had been explained over the course of an hour. And he saved my life... He's suddenly hot, suddenly cold. Why?

The potions-master suddenly stopped, and Draco, preoccupied, walked straight into him. "Hey, what-?" Severus whirled around and clapped a hand over his mouth. Draco's eyes went wide at the sight before him, previously blocked by his professor.

They had come upon the gallery above the ballroom, which was full of Narcissa's guests. They were quietly talking amongst themselves. However, when a tall figure cloaked in black stood at the head of the table, and raised a scrawny hand, the talk stopped. Red eyes peered out from a pale snake-like face, appraising the assemble with only one look.

Beside him, Draco saw Severus wince and clutch his arm. I guess the mark must be painful now that he's so close to him. Without really thinking about it, Draco sought out the other's hand and clutched onto it. The air around felt ice-cold, even though it was the height of summer. The potions-master winced again, and Draco squeezed his hand, more for his own assurance than anything else. To his great appreciation, Severus allowed him the comfort of continued hand-holding as they watched the scene below.

When the Dark Lord began to speak, the blond didn't hear what he said. There was only a dull rush in his ears, and though he saw the evil creature's lips move, he couldn't discern the words. All he could think about was his father. He's just wandering around the manor right now. I bet he doesn't even know that Vol- that he's here. Be careful dad... Stay where you are for now.


Severus listened carefully to the Dark Lord, taking only minimal effort to lock his fingers with his student, allowing him the full knowledge of his intent to protect him should the need arise. With the rest of his attention, he was storing information that could prove useful to the Order in his mind. It seemed that his master (ever the talented wizard) had managed to come up with a few more nasty spells to add to the repertoire of his followers. He had taken into consideration his impeding intake from the past year's seventh year Slytherins, and had made the spells easy, but nonetheless powerful, weapons.

"It is not always key to match brain to brawn, which is all that Dumbledore and his cretins have done. Sometimes, it is better to match brawn with equal and above brawn, which is why I have deigned to show you the new incantations that will allow just that. For, of our new intake, it can't be said that all of them are as intelligent as one would wish...no matter...for this shall be simple enough, even for those who have been addled by Dumbledore's Hogwarts." For one terrible moment, Severus truly believed that this had been said for his benefit.

But, when the Dark Lord just chuckled, and the others around the table leant their own cruel laughs, he knew he had not been noticed. He tugged Draco closer to him, ensuring that they kept deep within the shadows so as not to be seen. The boy shuffled towards him, until they were pressed side-to-side. He looked down with a sour look, finding this not at all helpful, but again allowed his student the illusion of safety.

"McNair," his master needed to prompt no further than that. McNair rose from his seat, looking (quite rightly) a little worried, and went over to the other, bowing deeply. "Construct me a wall." The death eater asked no questions, only stepped forwards a couple of paces into the empty expanse of the dance floor, and raised his wand. Without even saying his incantations aloud, he constructed a hefty wall, ten feet high and perhaps two feet thick (that's how it looked from this angle, at least). It was made out of granite blocks, and the Dark Lord nodded appreciatively. "Very good."

"Thank you m'lord," McNair bowed again, but didn't return to his seat. The master stood up, and moved to stand next to him, wand out. He raised it, robe sleeve slipping down to show skin paler even than that on his own arm.

"Destruxi-exstinctoris," he hissed, almost lazy with his rites in the air with the wand tip. The whole wall exploded. Just before the sound wave hit, Severus thought, Walls shouldn't be able to explode. Then, the noise of the stone breaking apart and crumbling rushed over the both of them, and he cringed at the pain it induced in his ears. Not only had the wall collapsed into rubble, but also the rubble itself was flaming. This too was an oddity, for, as far as he knew, granite wasn't flammable.

He blinked, noticed that Draco had pressed against him closer still, and registered the terrible silence after the spell itself. The Dark Lord muttered something to McNair, who was still standing next to him, though rigid with shock. The man quickly came to, and started to tidy up the mess. "The other spell is merely a superfluous one that I thought you would enjoy," the master 'admitted', flashing an eerie smile that didn't reach his glowing red eyes. "McNair – a wall and door, if you please. Elf," a house-elf who had been serving the biscuits and cheese after the dinner stopped in its tracks, before bleating in terror and trying to make an escape.

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord barked, making the small creature collapse and twitch on the floor. "Finite incantatem." Even from where he stood, Severus could see the rise and fall of the small chest of the elf, and the glazed look of panic in its bulbous eyes. That's another one to die.

"Imperio. Now, stand behind that door," the master directed coolly, not bothering with the additions of please nor thank you. He was far above that now... The elf, unable to fight such strong magic, obeyed to the letter, and disappeared behind the wall. It was allowed ten seconds to reach the door, before the second of the new incantations was administered.

"Alohacommoveo." Again, the spell had a huge effect on the door and wall. The door itself flew open, breaking into millions of deadly splinter shards in the air as it rushed away from the table and diners. The elf shrieked as it was pierced with a million wooden daggers, and it was dead before it hit the floor, showered with the splinters of wood that hadn't embedded themselves within the tiny body. Draco gulped loudly, but it went unheard in the commotion below.

The wall itself wasn't affected too badly, only the doorframe being slightly worse for wear. Tentative applause rang from the assembled, and another of those eerie, cold smiles crossed the Dark Lord's face. Severus felt his stomach fall. He's planning well for the new recruits. Those are so simple...so bloody dangerous... I'll have to warn the Order about this immediately. But, more talk sounded below, and he knew he couldn't possibly tear himself away until all the talk ebbed, and there was no more information to gather.


Just as he came out into the entrance hall of the manor, Lucius took in a great gasp of pain. He clutched his left arm tightly, and fell heavily against the wall, his right shoulder taking all of his weight. No. Not now. Not bloody now! He yelled internally, cursing whatever Gods there were for hating him so. Narcissa will have told him I'm indisposed... I just hope that means he won't be enquiring after Draco's membership today. A long time ago, Lucius had sworn that the involvement with the Dark Lord would stop with him.

The next generation of Malfoys must have a new start. A clean start... The sharp pain in his arm had dulled to an intermittent throbbing, which pulsed as the Dark Lord felt bouts of anger. This was more often that one might think, and as Lucius carefully crept through his own home, trying to ensure that he wouldn't be seen, he kept flinching. If I'd only known before-hand how much this thing would bother me... I would have chosen death over getting it!

A wry smile graced his usually sombre face, and he began to climb the grand staircase. It was his intention to go back to his chambers, and try to talk to Draco. Though I don't know what to say to him. He had to at least try – he wasn't stupid, after all. He had seen the marks of teenage depression upon Draco – in his narrowed grey eyes, the worry-lines on his young face. The scars he tries to hide from me.

It was stunning how history repeated itself, for Lucius could remember that he was almost the same. Only I wasn't nearly as brave... Lucius toyed with the idea that Draco would have made a better Gryffindor, but quickly quashed those thoughts. Though his master couldn't read minds at all, he often felt as though he could. He had always been edgy and guarded around the Dark Lord, and knowing that he was in the manor only leant to this.

There was a sudden rattling sound, and looking up, the Malfoy patriarch saw that all of the chandeliers above were shaking, fine crystal beads flashing in the light of the sunset. They chinked against one another, like a thousand wine glasses at a feast. Obviously, vibrations from some spell had caused this, and Lucius hurried onwards, not wanting to be caught if the master was this angry. Especially considering he had lied in order to get out of dinner that evening...

Even though he was decidedly uneasy, he was also filled with a curiosity that would have done any Ravenclaw justice. What could the Dark Lord possibly want? What were his plans...? Lucius knew that he had attacked the muggle headquarters in London, and probably intended to start killing the Ministers of their government soon. But that wouldn't be important enough to have gathered all of his 'top people' together like this.

So what could it be? Lucius knew that there was only one way to find out. Feeling mightily glad of the wand that still jabbed into his side at every step, he made his way to the gallery that overlooked the ballroom. Narcissa couldn't bear to entertain him anywhere less grand, after all, he thought, smirking slightly at his wife's predictability. When the paintings and tapestries on the walls began to rattle once more, he lengthened his strides, wondering what was going on.

He rounded a corner in the wide hallway, and saw the ornate sidings of the handrail of the gallery, which prevented a nasty twenty-foot drop to the floor below. That wasn't what held his attention for long though. Oh no.

What caught his attention and held it in a timeless instant was seeing his lover and his son standing there in the shadows, spying on the company below. That would have been bad enough (since it meant that Severus was putting Draco in serious danger). But no, the Gods had to curse him yet further.

For the two were holding hands, fingers interlaced, and they were standing as close to one another as it was possible to stand. Draco's head level with the raven-haired man's chin, Draco's shoulder pressed against his lean arm, Draco's hip to his bony pelvis. Lucius couldn't breathe. Couldn't blink. Couldn't hear. Couldn't think. Didn't want to.

His Draco.

His Severus.

His heart...cold.


"Narcissa, where is young Master Malfoy tonight?" the Dark Lord enquired quietly, once that had all sat down back at the table, and McNair had made the wreckage disappear as though it had never been there. The Malfoy matriarch blinked, and smiled graciously, though her knitted brows betrayed her annoyance.

"I'm not sure m'lord. He went to accompany Severus to a carriage so that he could return to Hogwarts, but I haven't seen him since. I get the feeling he may well be doing homework, or some other such dull thing," she waved a hand and chuckled lightly, making sure to show all of her perfectly straight, beautifully white teeth. So that's where all those thousands go, Draco thought, perhaps a little cruelly.

"Could you perhaps have an elf fetch him? If his father cannot be present, then it is best he at least is." The man didn't explain, and no one dared to ask him to explain. Narcissa just nodded to a house elf that was cowering by the door, afraid that it was going to go the same way as its peer. She whispered harshly to it, and it scurried off, only to rush back in a second later, looking stunned. It rushed back over to Narcissa, and hurriedly murmured something to her.

The woman visibly blanched. "Please m'lord, excuse me. I shall go look for him myself. Apparently, he isn't in his rooms." She rose gracefully from her chair, and then strode purposefully out of the room. Draco narrowed his eyes at the house-elf, and saw it clutching a book firmly in it's hands. To his horror, it was the very same textbook that contained all the things he had been hiding.

And if the Dark Lord saw the statuette of the Phoenix, that Dumbledore had given him so that, should he need to, he would be able to go to Diagon alley, and ask the innkeeper to show him the whereabouts of the Order...he was as good as dead. He willed the elf to leave, but it just stood in a redundant way by his mother's empty seat, the book in its hands. I have to get that book. He untangled his fingers from his potions-master's, causing the raven-haired man to look down at him quizzically.

He didn't stop to explain, and just turned around...to see his father standing there, glowering at both him and Severus. None of them spoke, and Draco tapped Severus on the shoulder. He scowled, and turned. The scowl left his face as soon as he saw Lucius standing there, arms crossed over his chest, and face dark.

Draco burst back into life after only a few seconds, and started to hurry off, to try and get to the ballroom and get that book before his property could be seen. Even if he had to pretend to the Dark Lord that he would ally with him for a few hours, he would get that book. Because he knew if he didn't, he was doomed.

Lucius caught his arm as he walked by, and swung him around so that he was standing a bare inch from the wall. He glared down at Draco, though the anger quickly lost its intensity and melted into a hopeless smile. His father leant down, so that they were nose-to-nose, and peered into his eyes, sky-blue spheres telling of love and nothing else. Despite his fear, Draco still felt courageous enough to try his father's patience one more time. He searched his father's face for any sign, invitational or defensive.

It was a blank canvas to read, and that meant he could interpret it as he so wished. He chose to read it as a timid allowance, and once more he pressed naïve lips against experienced ones, combining the two for a few seconds before breaking away. The Malfoy patriarch looked afraid, and Draco plied another kiss, this time daring to open his own mouth, not quite sure what to do, but happy to be led when Lucius finally decided to do so. When he next pulled back, there was a content smile on both their faces, and it was only the sound of voices in the ballroom that reminded Draco of his mission.

"I have to go," he whispered. "I'll be back." Lucius just nodded, now incoherent from shock (or so Draco supposed.) With that, Draco slid away from the half-embrace he had been in, and hurried off down the hallway, his strides purposeful. I'm not going to just leave him alone now. I'll get that book and you-know-who be damned!


[Realises something.] I just realised that this whole story has taken place in just one day. [Blinks.] That's sorta odd. The fact I only just realised I mean – I'm the one who's bloody writing the thing and I didn't notice!

Because I'm a freak, I was re-reading all my reviews. And I found myself with tears in my eyes, because of all the nice things people have said to me regarding this. Considering my initial phobia of...well...sex [laughs], I wasn't sure quite what to do or where to go with my ideas. But, all of you who have reviewed have done so in a way that has been incredibly constructive and very helpful indeed, and I thank you all for it. If it ever seems like an author doesn't appreciate you, then it's probably because they just don't know how to display their gratitude. Neither do I really...I'm just babbling...all teary eyed and emotional. Yup. That's me.

Heh. I'll shut up now and let you get on with whatever else it is you all do!

Soda

PS: Seriously. Thank you so very much. I never in a million years would have thought I'd dare to write something like this, let alone post it...yet...here I am. Annoying you all. ;)

PPS: Nonsense Latin used again. Destruxi-exstinctoris I vaguely translate to 'one who dismantles with fire.' Alohacommoveo is a combination of 'alohamora' from the books, and commoveo roughly translates to violently. So, 'to unlock violently'. It sounds so harmless when you say it like that...