Prologue – Foreign Glamour
Greens, browns and blues mixed into a blur of the environment that zipped pass as I watched through the glare-streaked glass. My gray depths fell half-lidded and I breathed in deeply through my nose; I was absolutely bored out of my mind, just like every time. On this long, grueling trip to Hogwarts, my secret haven, I sat alone in a private velvet room, my elbow on the window seal and my cheek on my knuckles.
My cohorts, Crabb and Goyle, were following the poor snack woman around the train, pilfering various things off her cart and stuffing them into the black holes known as their mouths. I was grateful for their absence, only in my ego trip seeking moods did I need them around to make me feel better about my own intelligence, appearance, and everything else that made me human.
But now I needed my solitude, for my thoughts whirled in my mind like a violent typhoon, ripping away logic and leaving only pure, unshielded truth. I was in love. But, that fact was not my reigning concern, it was whom I was in love with. That, and the gender of this person went against all of my shaky morals. Boys weren't supposed to have compassion for other boys, it was wrong in the eyes of everyone that I had any respect for.
Why did I yearn for him then? Why in our battles and duels when his skin touched mine did that point of contact burst into white-hot flames? Shivers would rake my body when I felt the effects of his spells or his gaze on me; I would turn away, of course, hiding my face, which would be banded red with a vibrant, impatient stroke of a painter's crimson brush. The need I suffered for him surpassed anything I had ever endured; even the normal sexual frustration of a teenager didn't amount to this pain.
I was jerked back into reality when a knock on the door of my cabin sounded and I looked towards it, hazy mind coming back into focus. "Come in." I said in a strained voice, before clearing my throat and coughing into the back of my hand as the entrance slid open. There in the doorway stood not Crabb, Goyle, or any other person I recognized, but a perfect stranger.
This young man was very tall and slim with a sharp angled face, a long pointed nose and piercing orbs the color of cobalt, like the blue of the sky before blackness takes over and stars begin to appear. He had short, wild black hair; his bangs pushed to the side to partially cover his right eye. No robes of Hogwarts clothed this male; his choice of covering was a loose black, button down shirt, wide open to show the thin white tank top underneath, his pants were a mixture of dark denim with leather patches here and there, and a spike studded strap hung on the belt loop of one hip to cross his front and circle around his upper thigh. Quite an interesting style; all accented by the pentacle hanging limply around his neck on a cord of breaded black leather.
"Who are you?" I asked him softly, stunned at his unusual attire and all around dark glow. He gave a muted chuckle, more like an uplift of his shoulders and a quick turn of the lips, before leaning on the door jam. "And what on earth are you dressed as?"
"An American, my friend, I am dressed as an American for that is what I am." His voice was a cold and slick as the ice that would cover a lake in the nights of winter, rolling off his tongue so fluidly and in such a charismatic fashion that I shuddered visibly. "My name is Terren Higle and before you ask, I have come to pay you a visit because the loneliness in this room permeates these walls into mine."
I let go of the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and my lips twitched, a threat of a simper. This one was witty, I was amused, and how he'd predicted I would ask why he was here was obvious; it was only habit to demand why after knowing who. "Well then, Higle," He seemed a bit taken back when I used his last name instead of his first, but grinned, taking it all in stride. "Why do you feel drawn to loneliness? I am in no need of comfort."
"No comfort intended. Your gloom is just interrupting my reading." He remarked without missing a beat and I did give my famous smirk. "But, if you feel obligated to pour your thoughts to me, I won't push you away or anything."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"Well, thankfully I'm not a cat nor do I keep one, and my midnight crow is tucked safely away in the storage compartment of my cabin." As I raised one pale eyebrow of moonlight he gave a sly grin, moving inside of my room and shutting the door behind him. "I prefer a crow over an owl, less pecking and crows, to me, are far more beautiful." He let the door support his weight as he tilted back on his heels, crossing his ankles and folding his arms behind his head. How very fetching he looked in such a position of unaltered arrogance.
"You do seem like a person who would favor a bird of vengeance and pain over one of wisdom." I said softly, nodding to the seat across from mine, which he sat upon at my invitation. "I have never seen you around the school before, you can't possibly be a first year student, can you?"
Expression dropping from smugness to disgust mixed with surprise, Terren shook his head and snorted ever so slightly. "Oh, heavens no. I'm a seventh year actually, but I spent my first six years in the United States at Ebony University, the Hogwarts sister school. I transferred here for various reasons that I'd rather not talk about."
I gave a curt nod in understanding; I wasn't going to reveal anything personal, so why should I pressure him to do so? There was a certain mystery about this young man that caused me to give him a quick look over again and I noticed some more things about him now that I was closer. He had facial hair, albeit minor, a bit of a scruffy mustache and beard, prickles of black on pale skin. His right ear was pierced, a small black hoop hung from his lobe, twinkling when he moved his head to enunciate his words. He wore four black plastic bracelets on his wrist just above a band of silver on his middle finger, which he absently spun on his skin like subconscious stress relief.
Suddenly I realized that his lips were moving and I hadn't heard a thing he'd said, so I blinked my eyes and settled back to try to catch the end of what he was talking about. "… never been to England without a giddy horde of other Americans with me." I heard him say and he hadn't seemed to recognize the fact that I had zoned out and for that I was splendidly relieved. "My artwork has suffered for coming here, I left all of my supplies back in California."
"Artwork?" I echoed and he raised an eyebrow before his visage faded into a shadow of betrayal. It was then I grasped that he'd been talking about art and I hadn't heard any of it. Damn my short attention span.
"You haven't been listening, have you?" His head titled to the side as I adverted my eyes, looking every direction but into his. "Can't blame you, ranting is a specialty of mine and all of my words just melt into one long string of 'blah blah blah.' But, I must say I wasn't expecting you to start ignoring me this early in getting acquainted."
"I'd apologize but my pride prohibits it." I said in an almost bashful manner and was comforted as his face split into a grin. "What?" I inquired with a certain amount of curiosity, brewed with fascination in that brilliant show of ivory.
"So, you're a narcissist!" He accused then gave a snicker as a barely noticeable streak of rosy pink flashed across my cheeks before I turned away. My smile defied my denial of his name-calling and I spied him through a sideline glance while he continued to laugh. "Don't worry, pride won't change my opinion of you, oh nameless one."
"Malfoy," I nearly hissed, although in an amused fashion. "My name is Draco Malfoy." The other male's happy expression fell and his eyes iced over, as if my family name struck a cord of scorn within him. "Do you have something against the Malfoys?" There was a challenge in my tone; it was true that only outwardly was I a typical Malfoy, but I still took a certain amount of offence when someone gave me the title of "Dark Malfoy" without truly getting to know me. Of course, the rarest occasion in life was when someone got though my mental and physical barriers and found my hated inner sensitivity that was hidden in the cobwebs of my mind.
"No…" Came his soft response and he turned his face from mine, staring out the window at the passing scenery. "Nothing at all."
I opened my mouth to question his sudden change of mood but the cabin door banged open and Crabb and Goyle came bumbling in. They stopped once they spotted Terren and looked towards me in their child-like perplexity. I couldn't help but crinkle my nose at their cream and chocolate covered faces; briefly I wondered if a single piece that they had consumed wasn't stolen.
"Who are you?" asked Crabb in an awed voice and the American turned his head towards him. "Is he bothering you, Draco?" he inquired of me and I gave an annoyed snort, my eyebrows pointing down and lips pulling in a thin line.
"I can take care of myself." I spat, my voice practically dripping with the cold venom of disdain. They backed away slightly as I reclined again, crossing my legs and arms and glaring at them. "Just leave." I commanded and they tried to flee at the same time, getting momentarily stuck in the doorway before disappearing down the hall. Silently I sighed as their blundering footsteps grew fainter and raised an eyebrow at the other's expression; something about those sharp eyes and that tiny grin entranced me.
"Friends of yours?" My left eye twitched in an instantaneous response before I could think to stop it and his smile broadened. "Slaves, then?" I shook my head and absently licked my lips, egging him on. "Followers desperate for attention?"
I bit off a laugh and my shoulders shook as I nodded; my, this man was perceptive. "Yes, pretty much." I admitted, voice broken with suppressed giggling, and I gave him a rare flicker of a smile.
"You need to smile more often." The seriousness of his voice was almost frightening and those somber, crystal blue eyes made my body tremble. I drew in a surprised breath as his stood, taking a step to erase the distance between us, and leaned over me, his hands on the back support of the booth I sat upon. "You have a beautiful smile." He was so close and the space that separated us was quickly depleting, I could barely think as I felt his hot breath on my lips.
"What…" I started in protest but the soft, velvety fire of his mouth descended on mine and all my thoughts shattered into the blackness of oblivion. His lips burned sweetly against mine and when the tip of his tongue swept across my bottom lip, goose bumps rose rampantly on my skin. Without a glimmer of rationality, I opened my mouth and granted him passage, letting my eyes slide finally closed.
I felt nothing but him at that moment, his tongue rolling against mine, his thumbs rubbing against my collar whilst he gripped my shoulders, and the glorious scent, which I couldn't place but knew so well, that oozed from him. Everything else was insignificant in comparison, dwarfed and meaningless in the heat and passion of our moment. And as he lightly licked the roof of my mouth, sending tingling sparks down my spine, I came to grasp the reality of this situation. This was my first kiss and it was positively mind blowing.
But, just as I grew to know it, the contact vanished as he pulled away. My skin grew chilly with the lack of his heated touch and I shivered in the aftermath, my mouth prickled like the presence of pins and needles. I was lightheaded and breathless, my vision was hazy and my ears rang with a song so beautiful it reminded me of a siren's tune. Needless to say, I had enjoyed the kiss and it took a moment or two for me to recover, but the first thing I saw when I did was his grinning face. I didn't know whether or not to be offended or amused at his stab of superiority, but of course I'd only let him feel dominate for a little while. There's only so much of being recessive that I could take, for that had been my position for almost my entire life, the shadow of an infamous family.
"Ever kissed a boy before?" came his gentle words, so near to my ear that the hair on the back of my neck shot up in excitement. It took an instant before I could shake my head; words lost to me and even if I tried to speak my voice would be strained and uneven. I watch his grin broaden into a brilliant ivory cresent and blinked gray eyes in puzzlement. "Ever kissed anyone before?" I clicked my tongue at him and he gave a giggle, running his hand up my neck to cup my chin. "You're a fast learner, I didn't even notice."
Resisting the playful urge to bite his thumb as it ran across my lips tauntingly, I let my granite gray depths fall half-lidded and gazed at him silently. He truly was a beautiful creature, so unlike me, but sharing the same dark, mysterious aura that I came to be known with. He came from a different land, a world so alien to me, and so he was fascinating.
I wished I could have stayed there forever, wrapped in his warmth, but eventually the train came to its destination and we were forced to leave the room. He left me momentarily to gather his things and so I stepped off the vessel alone, looking around for fellow Slytherins, at the puny first years, and other random things when my eyes landed on a certain Gryffindor trio. They hadn't noticed me yet, so I slinked into the shadows and pretended to be nonchalant. I stared at them, one of them more then the other two, and found myself gnawing my bottom lip.
Harry Potter stood there talking excitedly, those untamed auburn bangs moving over his lightning shaped scar as he nearly bounced about. He was happy to be back at Hogwarts, as was I, this was our refuge from our equally abusive homes. I envied him for being able to hide those wounds of his so well, those inflicted by his aunt, uncle and cousin.
Yes, I knew about him, about his home at Pivet Drive, I had stolen various files from the Headmaster's office once. I really only wanted mine, but his was inviting, calling for me to look into his private life. So many jokes and insults could have been made from such secret information, but when I learned of his life, I realized how much like me he was. Such a thought scared me into a fancy for him; I had lay awake many nights thinking of him and each time my resolution was the same. He would never think of me in such a fashion; he despised my existence.
My two inept cronies waddled up with their baggage and mine, like dogs fetching a master's slippers. I imagined each time they wished I would reward them somehow, whether with a pat on the head or permission to emotionally destroy someone. My only regard of their presence was a sneer then I looked back at the three Gryffindors and drew in a sharp breath when they started my direction. Usually I was impelled to spout an insult at them, mostly at Weasely's dirty, ragged clothing or Granger's frizzy mop of hair, but I just looked away and acted as if I didn't see them.
"Does he think he's to good to berate us now?" I heard the redhead say not so quietly to his friends but still I didn't move. I suppose it broke his routine for me not to throw a few vulgarities at him and that sufficed perfectly. As long as he felt something I wouldn't damn myself for cowardliness later.
"Just ignore him, Ron." Came the soft, counseled words from their leader and I felt a twinge inside of me. "He isn't there."
And then I did look their direction, pure, unshielded shock in my gray eyes, threaded with anger by the cold needles of pain. He was looking at me dispassionately, but something in my expression made his footsteps falter but I turned away before he could examine it further. His words echoed back and forth in my mind, each time getting louder until I felt my ears ring painfully and my depths began to water.
Or was I on the verge of crying? I pressed the heels of my palms firmly into my eye sockets to keep the moisture there. Boys don't cry, I told myself firmly, drawing in a shaky breath, boys don't cry. Jumping noticeably in surprise as a hand fell on my shoulder, I looked up at Terren's concerned expression and breathed in deep, waving it off. He asked me something, I didn't quite hear nor did I answer, I just grabbed my trunk and gazed at the towering black building across the dark blue waters.
After the first years were sorted into their respectable houses, the students made their ways to their common rooms. The American walked beside me, dressed in Slytherin robes, and I could barely conceal my happiness. The minute he'd told me we would be in the same house and share the same room, my expression must have lit up like a flame roaring into life from one lonely ember. We entered the chamber and everyone branched off in groups, pairs, or alone, spreading the silk tendrils of a web toward private destinations and I sat on the couch by the fireplace. It took only a moment before the new seventh year sat beside me and threw his arms across the back of the couch, lifting his leg to hook his ankle over his other knee.
A light sensation on my shoulder opposite of him alerted me and I gazed through the corner of my eye at his fingers as they brushed my sleeve again. A heard an urgent mumble and looked over at two girls as they stared at us, whispering to each other and not trying to hide it. For a moment I wondered what they were trading in hushed words but as the one beside me nudged his knee against mine all inquires were forgotten and I turned my attention to him. My form tensed as he leaned towards me; a thousand thoughts ran in a frantic string through my mind as he pulled his lips close to my ear. What would people think? Would rest of the school find out about us? Would I be ridiculed by my fellow Slytherins, the people that practically worshiped me? Would my entire reputation be destroyed?
"Let's disappear." He whispered softly in my ear and the goose bumps that rose on my neck and arms caused my fears to melt. Everything around us vanished as he stood and I followed, it seemed that the other students vaporized along with our surrounding leaving only us. I was vaguely aware as we stepped out of the portrait, dodged into a dark corner of the corridor to avoid professor Snape as he went to greet his house, walked in silence with an uncertain goal, and then closed ourselves inside the trophy room. I wanted to question why he'd chosen this place, one that was forbidden to students unless accompanied by a teacher, but he seemed interested in examining the plaques and awards. "This school has so many more trophies then mine did. I don't know whether or not to be jealous." He mumbled to me as he gestured to the many gold colored cups, an unusually amused look on his thin face.
"A far amount of Quiddich champions were trained here." Where had I heard that? Had I actually listened to the previous Slytherin captain when he gave his lively talks before our competitions? How glad I was that he had left, because he was gone I had been promoted to captain.
"Quiddich?" he said with childlike curiosity turning away from the enchanting prizes to raise one ebony eyebrow at me. "What on earth is that?"
Gray depths widening, I stared at him like his skin was turning Technicolor or he'd grown another head. Was Hogwarts so successful in keeping their secrets that they hadn't even informed their sister school of their favorite sport? "You've… really never heard of Quiddich?" There was a sense of awe in my voice for I found this strangely exciting; he was so much more experienced sexually, but he was a virgin to one of my loves.
"What is it?" he asked again, walking towards me and my surprised eyes trailed him. He reached out and took my hand in his, lifting it up to nibble gently on the tip of my index finger whilst his piercing orbs shined at me with inquiry. "It's a game, right?" And then he bit down harder.
A bolt of stinging pain ran up my arm, which twitched in surprise, and I was drawn from my state of wonder. "Yes, it's a game on broomstick." I answered in a choked tone, my arm tingling, and fought not to give a pleased whine as he sucked on the spot he had abused in an almost apologetic way. "There are four positions to play in Quiddich: keeper, chaser, beater, and seeker."
"Which are you?" My breath hitched as he moved into my comfort zone and brought his face close to mine. "Are you a keeper, protector of your team's goal? Are you a chaser, control freak of points? Are you a beater, vicious when it comes to taking down enemies?" A grin planted itself on his face as my mouth dropped open and my eyebrows forked down; he lied to me. "No, you're more graceful then that. You're a seeker. You, my friend, are the underdog of the game, whose only goal is capture a zippy little golden snitch. And yet, you are the most celebrated of your team and you should be, you have the most skill."
"You said you didn't know anything about Quiddich." I whispered softly, eyes falling half-lidded as he placed his hands on either side of my face, setting his forehead against mine. "Do you always lie?" Such a blunt question had caught him off guard and he jerked back, an extremely displeased expression on his face. Suddenly, he reminded me of my father and I subconsciously prepared to be slapped.
But, the pain never came; he just heaved an annoyed sigh and turned his back on me, crossing his arms. "I wasn't lying." He hissed in a way that reminded me of the sound of Potter's parselmouth tone and the very thought made me shudder, not because of the mere sound but because of the person it resembled. "I just wasn't telling the truth." He turned to me, giving a handsome smirk, and all of my comparisons of him to my tyrannical father melted before me. His hand reached out and I felt his fingertips brush my cheek, drawing a hitched breath from me, before he leaned forward and captured my lips with his.
This kiss, just as breath taking as the other, took an unexpected turn and I jumped at the touch of his hand on the bare skin of my stomach, somehow he had worked my robes open and under my shirt without me knowing. I stepped backward in retaliation but both his arms encircled my waist and he pressed his mouth to mine with a bruising force. I tried to protest but as my lips parted to tell him to stop his tongue quickly jutted in, cutting off my words and choking me in one motion. My lungs began to complain, coldly burning in an unorthodox fashion, the ache almost too much to bear.
"Stop!" I nearly shouted when I finally recalled the freedom of my limply hanging arms and pushed him away, both of us stumbling backwards. I slammed full force into a trophy case, smashing the glass into a thousand pieces and cutting up the back of my robes and the skin beneath, but thankfully all without disturbing the rather large golden cup the shattered container held. My ears perked as I heard footsteps coming quickly down the hall and I shot a frightened glance at Terren, who just stared at me with a mixture of confusion and betrayal. Quickly I pulled my wand from the inside of my robes and pointed it at the broken holder, firmly whispering "Reparo!" The glass fragments shot up back into their places and melded together seamlessly just as the doorknob of the room creaked and Filch, escorted by his scrawny cat, burst in.
"I cannot believe it!" sneered Professor Snape, glaring at us, whilst we stood in his office. I stared at my feet like they were positively the most interesting things in the universe, trying to ignore his exasperated tone, but the feel of my favorite teacher's eyes on me was enough to make tiny beads of sweat appear on my temple. "The first night you come back and you've already broken school rules! Neither of you are in your dormitory! You snuck into a wing that is closed to students! I did not see either of you at the mandatory overview I gave!" His voice was rising now from that chilly hiss, for he was taking a fair amount of personal offense.
"You've already torn your robes, Malfoy!" I cringed at the sound of my name and briefly glanced up and his slightly reddened face before returning my gaze to my footwear. "And you're not wearing your Prefect badge! You, a Prefect, defying authority!" His voice broke and he let out a difficult sound, as if he did not know what else to say. "Both of you a week's detention!"
My head snapped up in surprise; never before had I been given detention by the head of my house. I groped my mind for words as I gazed at him in utter shock for a moment. "But, professor-" I finally blurted out, but he cut me off as soon as he heard my voice.
"And thirty points from Slytherin!" In response my jaw dropped; how on earth could he take points from his own house! Did he want us to win or not! "I'm very disappointed in both of you!" He said finally before he swept with a gliding motion behind his desk and dropped into his chair with a huff. "You!" he pointed to Terren, who didn't even flinch and I wondered he could possibly achieve such a lack of emotion. "Go to the dormitory!"
The angrily flushed professor turned his black eyes to me and I resisted the urge to step back, shooting a desperate glance at my American companion as he walked out stoically and the door closed behind him with a soft click. "You go to the Hospital Wing." I nodded in a jerky manner and turned away towards the door, but as soon as my hand fell upon the handle his voice stopped me again. "Just because you're my student, and it's true I give you certain privileges, doesn't give you the right to misbehave; I'll have no sympathy for you."
Waiting for me in an armchair by the weakly smoldering fire as I entered the Slytherin common room, Terren stood and walked over to me. He'd removed his robes, and wore only his patched pants and white tank top, revealing his muscled arms. "Hello, Te-" I began but gasped as he fisted his hands in the front of my newly mended robes, knocking me back into the closed wall of the portal so hard the air was compelled from my lungs and holding me there. "Terren?" I asked in a confused and slightly frightened manner whilst I stared into those blue eyes, turned stony in anger with my own depths wide. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his hot breath; our noses were barely an inch apart.
"You got us in trouble!" I was speechless, I'd never actually been confronted so violently before, and I was secretly glad there was no one else in the room. Wait, I got us in trouble? Wasn't it his idea to leave the room after hours? But, the words never came, it seemed that my heart, which was thumping loudly under my Adam's apple had restricted my voice. "If you hadn't freaked out, then that squib would never have found us!"
The other turned away with a huff and I slid to the floor; funny, I hadn't known I'd been dangling. I stared at his back with my mind racing with pained thoughts. What if he was right? There was a certain amount of logic behind his accusations and the longer I stared at the muscles rippling crossly between his shoulder blades the more I believed his reasoning. As my eyebrows bowed down and guilt overtook me, I let my head tilt to the ground where my gray orbs fixated on the heels of his bare feet. "I'm sorry." I said in the softest tone I could muster; it burned to say such words, for they chipped away at my pride with scolding picks. I wondered if he'd even heard me, for he didn't move for a while.
Then I saw his feet twist around and his hand moved under my chin to lift it up, where he stared in an almost pitying way at me. Eyes soft again and a smile quirking his lips, he pulled me into a gentle, warm embrace and I clutched him almost desperately. "It's fine." He muttered into my ear and he kissed my neck softly. "We all make mistakes."
