Warnings: PG-13- rated slash. Angst.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Alas.
Feedback: yes please!
Crimson
It's twenty-two years to the day – Lucius pretends he doesn't know this – since that first time in the boys' lavatory. Snape had been pressed up against the wall of the cubicle, not making a noise as Lucius thrusted. Afterwards they pretended it hadn't happened: slipped slowly back into the world where one was popular and the other, well, who cared?
There was always something subversive about Severus Snape: something in that glint of a cold eye and that smile shared by no one. Even the Slytherins hated him, probably because they knew he was brilliant… It's easy to hate those who are cleverer than us. It always has been.
Fast forward all those years and it's a singularly bloody sunset. They meet in a graveyard, which is quite ironic considering they are still the living or, at the very least, the undead. They will die soon, of course… in an hour or two, no doubt.
The inevitability is compelling.
So yes, they will die – they are marked for death – and it's actually a wonder that it took so long: nobody remains that close to Voldermort for so many years and then lives to tell the tale.
Yes, they will die.
And as for now, if the Marks burn on their arms let them ignore it. Let them look to the West where a streak of red sky bleeds into black ground. The shadows cast by the graves lengthen, creeping nearer and nearer, looming, and then finally covering them.
"Do you think-" Lucius begins.
Snape's eyes rest on him for a moment. "No," he says. "No I don't."
Lucius almost sighs as he thinks the three words – might have been – a pendulum swinging back and forth, hypnosis of the heart.
And it's funny, really, because he has no heart, he doesn't feel; he's a Death Eater, a servant, an autonomous follower, believer, disciple, one of the enlightened few…. He made his choice a long time ago.
He wonders if he might be permitted to kiss Severus, just this once. He opens his mouth to ask the question and ends up gaping like a fish. Snape looks him over and then an almost-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. And when he speaks, his voice is like liquid velvet. "Don't tell me, Lucius… What a tragedy…"
"What?" Malfoy snaps.
Snape abandons his grave, steps towards him, and leans very close. "You're in love with me," he says.
An oddly hollow silence follows and Snape moves even closer. "How does it feel?"
"It?"
"After all those years… Don't you remember, Lucius? All those years when I was your boy…" Snape snarls the last word; managing a look of disdain even as he grabs Malfoy and kisses him hard on the lips.
The Marks burn their arms.
They kiss.
The world turns dark.
And still they kiss.