Title: Obscurus Regulus: The Dark Prince
Author: Kerwin
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: R
WARNINGS: Extreme violence/abuse, vulgar language, and naturally AU after Goblet of Fire, possibility of YAOI or male on male romance!
Disclaimer: I am not going to be writing any of these for successive chapters, if someone doesn't get the point they can come back to this disclaimer. Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling and affiliated people. I do not, sadly, own any part of her wonderful world or characters. The Sullivan family and overall storyline IS however, mine. So, if anyone so desires to use either, please at least have the decency to notify me beforehand (I may just want to read it too you know!).
Chapter I: Enter Kerwin
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Eternal suffering follows my soul's path,
Like the fleeting light of the lonely shooting star,
Or the empty shadow from nothing remembered.
This is who I am.
Hikari Nanase (penname)
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Kerwin stood behind his brothers Ashbourne and MacMurrough who sufficiently hid him from sight. His parents stood in front of his brothers, and Mr. Sullivan lifted the large silver knocker, in the shape of a snake's mouth, to let it fall heavily upon the large black oak door. The booming sound vibrated in Kerwin's ears as he stood on the grey stone steps to the intimidating manor.
x
The building closely resembled a twelfth century castle keep with ominous black walls of granite and tall spires one had to cram his or her neck to see the tips of. Grisly and grotesque gargoyles sat crouched on either side of the entranceway as well as at strategic points along the walls and towers. Kerwin recognized these stony facades at once as tools for security and surveillance; no doubt they were spelled to keep enemies from entering the premises and to notify the master of any intruders. Similarly, the whole of the keep was surrounded by an extensive and intricate topiary garden full of magical creatures and races that were also for protection or assault. Kerwin was just studying an exceptionally detailed mountain troll of dead-wood draped in poison ivy when the door slowly opened.
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"Yes?" a tiny creature with enormous violet eyes that seemed to make the rest of it seem diminutive by comparison questioned in a contralto voice. The being had baby sized hands and feet with toddler sized limbs and body; pointy ears, a cute nose and a petit mouth combined to make the most contrary creature no muggle had ever seen. Kerwin recognized the minute individual as a house elf and took note the young slave wore nothing but an appallingly tattered, stained, and ripped pillow case.
x
After Mr. Sullivan announced who they were, and what business they had with the master, the house elf meekly led the Sullivan family inside. They had only just been divested of their outer coats when the sound of clicking heels approached.
"Rossier, so pleased you could attend." a drawling voice cordially welcomed Mr. Sullivan. The man in view held himself in that self-possessed way of the rich. He had long blond hair as fine as any woman's though his cold grey eyes offered none of the maternal warmth. If the smirk was any indication of his character one would say he was arrogant and damn well aware of it.
"It was a pleasure to receive your invitation, Lucius." Mr. Sullivan and Lucius Malfoy clasped hands.
x
Kerwin allowed his eyes to travel the expanse of the richly decorated corridor. The walls were painted an emerald green that tapered to the floor which was covered in elegant green and silver marble tiles, the source of the clacking noise when Mr. Malfoy advanced. Along the hallway there were large portraits of scowling platinum haired men and women (who were no doubt relatives), acrylic scenes of goblin rebellions, and a panorama detailing the battle of Grindelwald. Each wall hanging was framed in an unknown wood, due to the silver plating. Further on, there were delicate silver benches set intermittently on each side of the lengthy cavernous passage, and broad leafed plants in jewel bedecked vases accompanied them. Kerwin felt like cringing in the face of such squander, and this was merely the foyer.
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"You've meet my wife, Narcissa. This is my son, Draco." Lucius was gesturing to the two people standing behind him. The woman was trim and blonde wearing an elegant evening dress of pale grey. She would have looked beautiful if it wasn't for the way she turned her perfectly straight nose up at them. The son wasn't much better; all features pointed in a way that made him resemble a critter such as a ferret or fox, too cunning by half.
"A pleasure, this is my wife, Shea, and my boys." Mr. Sullivan introduced his wife and motioned to his three boys. "The eldest is MacMurrough, and then comes Ashbourne, and the youngest is Kerwin." Mr. Sullivan sneered at the last name as if it was something averse to the welfare of society.
"It is a pure delight to finally meet the most respected man in the entire wizarding world, Mr. Malfoy," MacMurrough gushed and held out a hand to Lucius, "I would be most honored to shake your hand, sir." Lucius nodded his approval and shook the boy's hand.
x
Mr. Sullivan nudged Ashbourne who quickly held out his hand to Lucius and complimented Mrs. Malfoy on her home as he shook hands. Then Mr. Sullivan slyly kicked Kerwin hard in the leg and Kerwin was forced to stifle a yelp.
"It's a pleasure." Kerwin said simply and held out his hand. Lucius studied Kerwin and shook the boy's pale hand slowly.
"Am I right to assume you and your family will be staying in the area for a while?" Lucius asked turning his attention back to Mr. Sullivan. The platinum-blond man raised a finely etched eyebrow to convey his curiosity.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, the boys will be attending Hogwarts come this September." Mr. Sullivan frowned when he said the name of the school.
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The group made its way to the sitting room where they could continue the conversation. Kerwin took note of the posh, designer setting that bespoke of great capital. Dragon leather seats and glass tables with fragile ornaments were just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Kerwin was quite suspicious that every meticulously placed artifact was uniquely original and probably of great value and rarity. He would have been impressed if it wasn't so glaringly obvious this room was used to astound those allowed access to Lucius Malfoy.
"Is that right? Draco attends Hogwarts now; the Headmaster's an incompetent muggle and mudblood sympathizer. It must be a great disappointment that your boys will be going to Hogwarts. I believe they went to Debarach de Domine?" Lucius questioned with a touch of bitterness. The house elf that had ushered the Sullivan family inside proceeded to pour two glasses of Firewhisky from a crystal decanter for the two adult males in the room.
"Yes, they started at Durmstrang but, after MacMurrough's third year, we moved to Russia where they transferred to Debarach de Domine. To answer your question, though, yes, I am disappointed they had to leave. As you know, Debarach de Domine is the best Dark Arts School in the wizarding world."
x
Mr. Sullivan had a sense of honor in his voice that clearly showed his pride in his boys attending such a high standing school. The dark complexioned man with well defined bone structure that practically screamed superior breeding puffed out his chest egocentrically. Mr. Sullivan's baby-fine black hair was slick with gel and his shrewdly sharp, coal colored eyes scrutinized Lucius Malfoy in silent challenge.
"Yes, well, we tried to send Draco there. Disappointingly his scores on the assessment tests were too low." Lucius' hand gripped his glass more tightly at his words.
"Oh? What about Durmstrang?" Rossier questioned with feigned bewilderment, the glint in his eyes implied he knew better.
"Regrettably Draco was not qualified, even for Durmstrang, despite my teachings." Lucius' voice dripped with displeasure in his heir as he conceded the point to Rossier.
x
Draco sulked in response to this censure and glared at the three boys sitting opposite him.
"What years are your boys in?" Lucius raised an eloquent eyebrow and swirled the amber liquid in his shot glass meditatively. The alcohol churned languidly, the light turning the liquor russet then gold in turns.
"MacMurrough will be in his sixth year; Ashbourne will be in fifth; and they'll put Kerwin in fourth." Mr. Sullivan summarized after taking a sip of his own whiskey and smacking his lips in appreciation for the superior quality.
"Really? I was under the impression that he was a first year." Lucius nodded toward Kerwin while looking intrigued.
x
Kerwin was unsurprised by Mr. Malfoy's assumption as he stood an even four feet in height.
"No, he's just a crippled runt, useless really." Mr. Sullivan sneered in Kerwin's direction. Kerwin recoiled automatically. If he was in the mood, Mr. Sullivan would remind Kerwin just how useless he was, painfully.
"Draco, why don't you show the boys your room while Rossier and I discuss business?" Lucius abruptly changed the topic as he made the suggestion. Though his father's voice was devoid of anger and was the epitome of politeness, Draco took the suggestion in the likeness of an order and led the boys from the room.
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Draco and MacMurrough walked side by side as they left their parents. Ashbourne and Kerwin walked beside each other behind the other two boys. Although he wanted to, Ashbourne dared not speak to Kerwin directly in front of his eldest brother. Their four sets of shoes clicked smartly against the marble flooring and echoed off the high vaulted ceiling into the quietude until Draco broke the silence.
"My father will likely invite yours to dinner. Why did you move here anyway?" drawled the youngest Malfoy in boredom.
"The Dark Lord requested his presence; after all, he is back again and needs his most faithful supporters by his side." MacMurrough replied easily. The bulky boy with ebony locks, sun-bronzed skin and cobalt eyes held his hands clasped behind his broad back as he strode beside the Malfoy heir.
"My father mentioned something about that, well, I guess we'll be attending that good-for-nothing school together. You'll be in Slytherin, I suppose?" Malfoy didn't seem the least inclined to hear the answer and it was quite apparent he asked only to fill the broad silence.
"Yes, my father explained all about the houses and such; Slytherin's the only house worth getting into." MacMurrough agreed whole heartedly, not put out in the least by Draco's indifference.
x
The boys had stopped their brisk stride down the hall and now stood illuminated in the magically flickering torches aligning the corridor.
"Will you be in Slytherin as well?" Draco's eyes flicked over his shoulder to glimpse the two boys drawing up to the halted pair. Draco's silvery-blond hair swished ethereally over his shoulder and Kerwin wondered if he'd practiced the move in a mirror to achieve the mysterious air the act exuded. Ashbourne shrugged and nodded imperceptibly.
"Na." Kerwin answered politely and, upon hearing this answer, MacMurrough turned swiftly to punch Kerwin hard in the gut. Kerwin doubled over, wheezing only slightly from the assault.
"Not in Slytherin! You bastard, how dare you refuse the honor! Why dare you even speak?" MacMurrough glared fiercely at the hunched form of his younger brother.
x
"Now, what is going on here?" Lucius' silken voice penetrated the electrified air like a slithering snake; he was closely followed by Rossier. Apparently the two adults had taken a stroll in order to discuss their "business" and somehow turned up in the same corridor as the boys. They, having been too preoccupied with their discussion and McMurrough's subsequent loss of temper, had failed to notice the approach of the adults.
"The bastard dared to speak, and he insulted the house of Slytherin!" MacMurrough accused heatedly while pointing a condemning finger at Kerwin. Mr. Sullivan's face turned a dark red color and he walked over to Kerwin's bent form.
"Please excuse me, Lucius, as I teach the wretch his lesson." Rossier requested politely before he slammed a fist into Kerwin's back. Kerwin was knocked to the floor with only the sound of the air escaping his lungs to accompany it.
"You will keep that disrespectful tongue in your head or I will cut it off! Do you hear?" Mr. Sullivan snarled lowly. Before Kerwin could impart any kind of agreement, the stone-eyed man pointed his wand at the shaking form on the ground and cried, "/Crucio/"
Kerwin lay on the cold stone floor where he'd been left after he had passed out from the Cruciatus curse. He moved slightly and felt pain sear his body. Slowly, achingly he managed to gain his feet. Then, cradling an arm across his burning midsection, Kerwin limped his way toward the dining hall.
x
When he entered the room, Kerwin saw the Malfoys and Sullivans eating dinner. The immense dining table was more suitable for the days of old when a King's knights and underlings would feast at the same table, it was so long. The main color scheme seemed to be mahogany brown, and Persian curtains hung aesthetically along the walls. Decorative, crystal candle-holders graced the table which was covered in fine china and silverware. The food was exquisite and Kerwin would be willing to wager his life on the gamble that he wouldn't find any cheap, burnt, or half-baked dishes in the Malfoy cuisine.
"May ah join ye, sir?" Kerwin asked Mr. Sullivan demurely as he sidled to the abusive man's chair. Kerwin properly ducked his head to the point of touching chin to sternum as he made the request. His pitch-black cloak enveloped him like a loving shadow, obscuring his face in its light-absorbing hood.
"Not until you apologize to whom you've insulted."
"I 'umbly apologize, Draco Malfoy. Master an' Madame Malfoy, please pardon me bringin' such filth inta yer 'ome. MacMurra, please accept me 'umblest apologies fer insultin' ye. I apologize, Ashbourne an' madam. An' t' ye, sir, I apologize wit' all tha' I am an' e'er will be should ye 'ave mercy upon me soul t' allow me the chance." Kerwin was on his knees in supplication as he kissed the hem of Mr. Sullivan's robe.
x
After each apology, the receiver gave a slight nod, or in Mr. Sullivan's case, a kick to the face and an order to eat. Kerwin thanked them graciously for their acceptance of his apologies and sat to eat. He ate very little and in total silence, only answering to questions that were directly asked and addressed to him by name.
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"So, Rossier, has our Lord hinted any uses for your boys?" Lucius asked Mr. Sullivan after Kerwin's entreaty for pardon. The blond haired man sat stiffly in his seat while the clicking of tableware against fine china punctuated the hall. Lucius worked facetiously at cutting his medium rare steak into socially acceptable bite-sized pieces while awaiting Rossier's answer.
"He wants MacMurrough to join his supporters next year. I already have him doing some spy work." Mr. Sullivan announced proudly and clapped a hand on his eldest son's shoulder. Rossier positively preened and his ensuing grin was down right wolfish before he slid a decidedly bloody piece of fleshy meat into his mouth and chewed vigorously.
"Yes, very good. Our Master has big plans for Draco; is that not right, Draco?" Lucius stilled his movements and held his utensils poised in each hand as a prompt for Draco to respond.
"Yes, father." Draco agreed instantaneously and smirked at the jealous expression on MacMurrough's face. Rossier's expression turned slightly sour at the one-upmanship and he took a large swallow of wine, perhaps, to rinse the distaste from his mouth.
x
Lucius pretended not to notice the baleful resentment in Mr. Sullivan's eyes and turned instead to Kerwin.
"It's Kerwin, right? Yes, such a befitting name/Little Dark One/. Does the Dark Lord have plans for you to join in his ranks?" Lucius asked eyeing the battered and reclusive boy. Kerwin's hooded garment sufficiently hid his face from view and his tone rarely went outside the realm of what could be categorized as modestly polite.
"I wouldna believe meself worthy enough fer the honor o' bein' a Death Eater o' the Dark Lord." Kerwin said choosing his words carefully. His idle fork, which had been absently pushing his asparagus into his decimated crab cake, stilled as he answered.
"That's right; he will serve under one of his brothers." Mr. Sullivan agreed, and for once looked at Kerwin with something akin to acceptance.
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Later that evening, Lucius Malfoy invited the Sullivans to stay the night because the next evening would be a Death Eater gathering; Lucius suggested it would be fitting for the boys to attend.
"Draco has been attending the meetings since he returned from Hogwarts this summer, haven't you, son?" Lucius asked rhetorically as they all sat about the dining table enjoying their evening tea.
"Yes, father." Draco gave a minute nod, and smirked at MacMurrough's envy for the second time that same evening. At a disapproving glance from his father, Draco tried to hide the gloating superiority on his face in his teacup which he studiously sipped.
"Draco, show the boys to the guests' rooms where they will be staying." Lucius interrupted his son's failed attempts at modesty.
"Yes, father." Draco gave a slight bow and led the three Sullivan boys down the dark hallways of the second floor to the before mentioned rooms.
"These will be your quarters for the duration of your stay." Draco drawled before leaving the three boys, each to his own device.
The next morning, Kerwin woke to the sound of knocking on his door. Kerwin rolled out of bed, groaning slightly at the pressure on his torso, and padded his way to the entrance. He twisted the handle and cracked open the slab of wood to be met with the house elf from the previous day.
"Excuse me, sir, but, sir, your father requests your presence in the dueling chamber. Kit shall lead the way!" The elf promptly started down the corridor, presumably on his or her way to the dueling chamber. Kerwin barely had time to pull the door closed behind him before he was following the elf.
x
Kerwin gave a slight shiver as he ambled along behind the small creature and pulled the thin cloth of his hooded pajama cloak tighter around his lithe frame. They soon reached a pair of closed double doors and the elf vanished, confirming the entrance to the dueling chamber. Kerwin quietly slipped through a crack he made by opening one of the doors and was met with Mr. Sullivan's steely eyed glare as well as Lucius's piercing gaze. Draco was also present in the room; he stood dressed in black silk pants and shirt which obviously served as his sleepwear. Kerwin wore, under his hooded robe, cotton jumpers of the same color.
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"Draco, you know why you have been summoned. Kerwin, your father informs me that he duels with you in the morning as I do with Draco. I invited you two to continue your ritual as Draco and I have done. Rossier has told me that he teaches you because you are weak and in great need of discipline. You learn because your father believes you must become a strong ally to your brothers and be able to protect them in a crisis. I teach Draco because I need an heir that is obedient and strong. I respect Rossier's dedication to your future; we will commence with our lessons."
x
Lucius brandished a sword that was intricately decorated with jewels and gold. Draco took up his own sword and inclined his head to his father as custom to fencing style. Mr. Sullivan levered the sword that Lucius had given him and gave a mock bow to Kerwin. The small boy caught the sword that his father then threw to him, after his bow, and Kerwin gave a slight nod of his own. The fencing began.
x
As they commenced the only differences from traditional fencing were that the swords they brandished were not foils, but broad swords—bulky and hard to handle given their tremendous weight—and not blunted in any way, shape, or form. The blades were just as deadly as double edged pieces of metal could be imagined. Another difference was that the duel was unprincipled, filled with underhanded tricks and cheap shots and without the integrity from its inception. Other then that, they followed the rules, which entailed there were no rules. The lesson did not end until blood was drawn, preferably from the veins of the person the lessons were taught to in the first place.
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Clashes of sword against sword rang through the double doors and echoed down the hall to fill the corridors with the ghostly sound of a battle fought long ago. And, a battle it was in the present; Kerwin fought with all his being to stay unscathed. Once, long ago, Kerwin had thrown a match. He feared Mr. Sullivan becoming angry about his increasing skill. As a response to his premature forfeiture, Rossier ran a sword straight through Kerwin's back at the end of the lesson and chained him in the dungeons for the whole night. In the morning, Kerwin had been on the shaky line between life and death. Mr. Sullivan had allowed Kerwin's phoenix, Adonia, to heal him with her tears; not, of course, without warning of worse punishments should he throw another match ever again. Now, Kerwin fought as if his life depended on it, though, in retrospect it truly did.
Kerwin looked to Draco; they sat panting and wiping sweat from their brows. Draco sported a shallow cut on his arm that wouldn't even leave a scar with a little magical help. The smaller boy was the worse for wear; he had many little nicks on his legs, arms, and chest; Rossier had been toying with him today. His sweatpants were riddled with small holes; most of his clothing was in much the same condition from similar bouts with Mr. Sullivan. However, the worst of Kerwin's wounds was a long, deep gash that ran from his ankle to halfway up the calf of his left leg. Kerwin was working on staunching the flow of blood with a piece of bandage; he always had some on hand in the event of a necessity.
"How'd you get that?" Draco asked grimacing as the blood oozed from Kerwin's leg.
"I let me guard down on me good leg; he did a new move I 'adna seen afore. Now I 'ave an' I won't fall fer it again." Kerwin said with such conviction that Draco was compelled to ask his next question.
"Are you mad at HIM for the cheap shot or at yourself for falling for it?" Draco's eyes narrowed as he studied Kerwin and awaited his answer.
"I knew better'n tha' t' let me guard down. I dunna 'ave room t' make mistakes." Kerwin turned his eyes away from his cut which was still bleeding lethargically and looked at Draco seriously. "Ye e'er get worse then tha'?" he inclined his head towards Draco's arm.
"Yes, but my father always ends up healing the parts that show so it doesn't scar, you know; wouldn't do to have someone questioning." Draco replied cryptically. Kerwin raised a non-communicative eyebrow, intrigued. Draco implied that people were watching him, or more specifically his parents and their treatment of their son. That begged the question of who, and more importantly, from which side?
x
While Draco conveyed himself with arrogance and an admittedly large ego around their fathers and talk of the Dark Lord, Kerwin could not believe the blonde rated so high in Voldemort's estimations. Draco could be nothing more than a pawn this early in the game, one of a half-dozen such pieces, with only the potential of becoming something more useful later in the match. Therefore, Kerwin was more inclined to believe the Headmaster of Hogwarts was keeping a close eye, perhaps searching for an opportunity to remove Draco from the destructive influence of his father. This brought up a new and previously disregarded notion; was Draco, in fact, not the model son he demonstrated himself to be?
x
Kerwin was having difficulties wrapping his mind around the thought. He'd been under the impression that Draco Malfoy was like MacMurrough from the moment the smirk spread across his pointed face when mentions of Voldemort surfaced. But here, now, the ice prince seemed to be subdued, a little less obnoxious and inordinately tight-lipped about Voldemort, a favorite topic of their parents. Kerwin came to the conclusion that perhaps not all was as it appeared. Draco was truly an enigma.
"Hey, are you going to heal that, or let it bleed all over the place?" Draco demanded, looking a bit disgusted by the parting flesh of Kerwin's leg.
"I thought it was against the school an' the ministry t' use magic afore comin' o' age." Kerwin mentioned prudently. Draco scoffed.
"As if my father would allow ministry lackeys to track wand casting on his own property," Draco sounded scandalized at the mere suggestion, "There's an incantation on the house warding it from annoying interference." Kerwin felt his lips tug in amusement as Draco made the Ministry of Magic out to be some kind of pesky nuance, simply flicked away with a few muttered words. Not that Lucius Malfoy couldn't pull it off, his standing in wizarding society being nearly irreproachable.
"Here, let me heal that," Draco suddenly insisted, taking out his wand. Kerwin could read the impatience in Draco's posture and the outstretched hand indicating Kerwin should lift his leg to facilitate the healing. Kerwin wasn't about to argue, so he did as he was told.
"Claudere vulnus." Draco muttered the spell under his breath and the cut immediately closed and the skin came together as if it had never been severed; there was not even a scar left.
"Spasibo."
x
Kerwin admired the newly smooth skin on his leg and fussed with the damp bandages. He couldn't see anywhere to dispose of them but didn't relish leaving them out like so much detritus. When he turned to ask Draco where a trash receptacle might be he was met with a narrow-eyed wall. The blonde was looking at him as if he'd grown a second head. Kerwin's hand made the journey half way to his neck before the gesture aborted itself, the inspection would interfere with the charm on his hood. Instead Kerwin settled on matching Draco's stare and asking bluntly.
"What?" Draco's mouth twisted sourly and his brows drew down over his nose in irritation or the beginnings of anger.
"What did you just call me?" the platinum hair boy demanded softly, almost harshly. Kerwin stared. Draco took his silence as a desire for clarification. "You just said Spa-C-bow." Kerwin blinked and then unexpectedly laughed. The sound startled Draco as he'd had no warning, given Kerwin's facial expressions were hidden by the hood. Kerwin shook his head even as the laugh petered out naturally.
"Spasibo. It means thank ye in Russian." Kerwin was still smiling as the lines melted from Draco's face and the other boy smiled too. "I'm sorry abou' tha'. Sometimes I switch languages wit' out e'en realizin' I'm doin' it." Kerwin explained contritely. Draco waved the apology away, lending the commonly 'forget about it' gesture an imperial undertone. Kerwin was further amused.
"We better get going; our fathers will be expecting us. Come." Draco stood suddenly, breaking Kerwin from his musings. The blonde led the way from the room and started down an unfamiliar hall. The direction they headed was opposite the one Kerwin arrived from earlier that morning. As if reading Kerwin's mind, Draco informed him of where they were going and why.
"We need to change our clothes. We'll go to my room first, and then we'll go to yours." Draco explained as they walked into more passages that were lit with spelled flaming torches. Kerwin made an agreeable sound to let the other know he'd understood what he'd heard and followed complacently.
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Draco's room was extremely large, which upon second consideration should have come as no surprise. Malfoy was a wealthy name to inherit and with it came certain privileges. Like a bedroom to rival that of a complete dormitory at Debarach de Domine, Kerwin thought not unkindly. For, while Draco possessed excessive heaps of material wants, his existence was a chained one. He was bound to the Malfoy name, shackled to his father by misguided notions of fidelity, and ultimately fettered to a destiny not of his choosing. Kerwin could relate.
x
As Draco led the hooded figure inside, Kerwin carefully clasped his hands behind his back, a deliberate gesture to prevent him self from touching anything that might catch his interest. After the first step he spotted an abundance of such things.
x
The majority of the floor space was taken up with a black, silk-draped, four-poster bed that sat smack dab in the center of the room. Surrounding this recognizable island and all along the walls stood immense shelves of books. Kerwin noted many dark titles on the bindings, or at least on those books which had bindings. The intelligent boy wondered just how old some of the tomes had to be that their covers were worn clear off them. The only other object of note in the room was Draco's immense walk-in closet, full of nothing but black garments and cloaks. Draco quickly picked out a black sweater and jeans with a day robe to go over it.
"Malfoys never wear anything but black, you know, it's actually one of the things I like about the family code." Draco said as he pulled the sweater down over his pale chest which had several small, thin lines of white that marked places his father had deemed unnecessary to heal.
"Why's tha'?" Kerwin asked as Draco drew a brush quickly through his slightly overgrown, silver-blond hair. Kerwin's attention turned compulsively to the glinting calligraphy adorning the bulky volumes on the shelf next to him. One hand, which had fallen from the other's grip, passed idly over the nearest spine which read "Crippling Curses and Harmful Hexes".
"Because, then I don't have to worry about what to wear. I can just pull something out of my closet and it's bound to match." Draco looked up and gave a superior smirk. Kerwin shook his head in bemused amusement; his fingers itched to riffle through some of the loose leaf books, the ones without bindings. Kerwin could just imagine the significance of the information contained within. Draco meanwhile, was commenting idly on the more archaic and sometimes freakishly absurd family codes. One particular statute, code number sixty-two paragraph B detailing what to do with a senile Malfoy, caught Kerwin's interest.
"Aye, I can see 'ow tha' would be 'elpful; after all ye dunna want the coots clutterin' up the place." Kerwin rejoined to Draco's recitation, which called for taking the addled member and depositing them in a rural farm district with muggles. More than likely the ailing Malfoy would be taken in by some halfway house or delivered to a mental institution when he or she began spouting nonsense about Hogsmead, witches, and magic. It was so typical of the pure-blood mentality to release discards to the muggles who they view as lower than pack animals. Draco shrugged philosophically instead of acknowledging Kerwin's comment with words.
"Well, I'm finished here. Ready?" Draco asked and, at Kerwin's nod, led the way out of his room.
--------
They continued on to Kerwin's temporary room. Walking in, Kerwin approached the foot of his bed where his trunk sat and tapped the lid precisely. Soft clicks punctuated the silence as the locks disengaged and the lid flipped open. After rummaging through his things, Kerwin chose a black robe, undershirt, jeans, and hooded cloak. He laid them on the bed and then glanced up apprehensively at Draco though the other boy had no way of distinguishing Kerwin's expression.
"What?" Draco turned around as if looking to see if Kerwin was looking at someone in the doorway; there was no one there.
"I dunna...look, can ye turn 'round whilst I change?" Kerwin asked with a hint of trepidation in his voice.
"Of course." Draco turned around while Kerwin changed.
--------
"I'm finished, ye can turn 'round again." Kerwin said then and Draco turned to see the black clad figure once again ensconced by the hood of his cloak.
"What's that?" Draco waved to a sort of pendant that hung about Kerwin's neck.
x
Kerwin was just pulling it out from under his garments to let it rest solely inside of his cloak. There it wouldn't be uncomfortable, but it would remain hidden from view. The pendant was in the shape of a circle. A gold snake and a silver snake entwined together in a circle with an inner circle of two snakes hooked together. The inner circle of snakes was of two colors, one was an emerald green and the other was a sapphire blue. At the center of the outer circles was a small golden sphere with a silver capital letter "S" imbedded in it.
"This is somethin' important. I canna tell ye what 'tis used fer. I will tell ye tha' 'tis never t' leave me neck." Kerwin replied, calmly serious. Draco regarded him contemplatively before nodding his understanding.
"We better get going; our fathers are prone to irritation." Draco turned and headed for the door, just before stepping through, he glanced back at Kerwin who hadn't moved. "I would like to know what that pendant does. Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to tell me. For right now, all I care about is getting to the breakfast table before my father becomes annoyed and lectures me on the propriety of keeping my schedule." Draco sneered at the mere notion of a dressing-down. Kerwin suspected Draco suffered the reprimand enough times in his growing years that even once more would be intolerable. Kerwin knew of similar lectures; he felt they were comparable in many ways. As Kerwin followed his new companion from the room he leveled a pensive stare at the blonde's back. Draco could be the one. The person he could trust enough to tell his deepest secrets to. Kerwin looked forward to the day Draco secured his trust.