Gabo0: Sirius is just so fun to mess with!
Drupadi: I should totally start a business, and you could be my first customer!
Lothlorien1: Their banter IS so fun! Glad you like it!
Sarkywoman: (gushes) Glad I could be of service!
GLEH: You know, I was tempted to somehow fit in leather&whips!Draco... but I didn't.
Chapter Four: Interchange
The stench of frog leg juice kept Draco at bay for most of the week. Instead, the boy shouted taunts and teases from a safe distance. Eventually though, the feeling of drying juice over his skin became too much even for Sirius and he cleaned himself with soapy water in a bucket derived from the pantry.
As he washed, Draco was watching him with a maddening smile on his face.
"Nothing like a good rub down, eh Black?"
"Leave it."
"I see your making headway with that revolting stuff. Maybe later you can make some headway in me. The offer still stands, strong and erect."
"And my rejection still stands."
"Why don't we turn that rejection into ejaculation - they sound so close. And really they are; only separated by a simple 'yes'. Well, a simple yes and some honest back work." He grinned.
Sirius looked up at the blonde twit with a disgusted expression, soap trailing down between his eyes as he wrung out the sponge over his head. "I really hope you decide to give this up soon."
"I'll give up as soon as you fuck me."
That term sent nasty chills up his spine. He looked away from Malfoy, intent upon holding a towel (also from the generous pantry) to cover himself while the boy sat obtrusively close with prying eyes. Luckily he had kept his knickers on, otherwise he would have been completely exposed when Draco ripped away the towel before. But he'd thought ahead and was thoroughly satisfied at Malfoy's pouty disappointment, towel hanging limply in his hand as if in reflection.
"You're not getting an area on your back," Draco informed him, reaching for the sponge. Sirius laughed.
"It's for good luck," he sneered. The boy withdrew his hand, shrugging.
"Just trying to help."
"I think I've made it clear that I don't want your help in any size, shape, or form. Can't you go amuse yourself somehow?" Sirius gruffly squeezed the sponge. Draco hopped off his cot and sauntered to the door.
"I'll just go think of you." He brushed his hand over his crotch, and winked. "But I'll do it out of sight. Don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."
His mouth twisted in repulsion. "Keep things to yourself, brat."
"But sharing with others is such an important value, Sirius."
"Get out of my sight."
"Not out of your mind though." Pushing through to the outside, Draco blew Sirius a lazy kiss, which the man sneered at.
Damn him, Sirius seethed, strangling the sponge and sending water splashing onto the floorboards. He'd been relentless for days, blocking Sirius's assigned questions with his.... baiting. The boy was obnoxious, arrogant, crude.
Was is just Fate's cruelty that those same words were used to describe Sirius back in school?
For the millionth time Sirius looked up at the dark slant of the shack's ceiling and questioned, 'Why me?' Dumbledore, Remus, McGonnagal; they were all crazy. Just as crazy as that damned kid. Or maybe he was the one going crazy. If that was the case, he'd soon be out eight galleons.
"You want to."
"Shut up."
"Snap, Sirius. Just snap so we can both leave."
"I won't leave until you've answered every question I have."
"Ask me while we're making passionate love."
"That's a new way of propositioning."
"I gathered that maybe tenderness was your thing."
Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Figured that was a long shot."
They were sitting across from each other at the round table, Sirius having just completed a series of five patient questions. A small circlet of unique metal glinted in corn silk blonde hair. Sirius wore one similar. They were thought trackers, used like bloodhounds to seek out any trailing memories linked to the present question. Yet somehow Malfoy had built a strong barrier. Whenever Sirius posed a question, in his mind's eye there would appear a solid black wall. And as a clever jest, little pictures of a nude Draco covered the boundary, all shaking their asses.
Draco shoved a heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth, milk running out the corners of his mouth. Sirius couldn't cipher why the boy would even try his sexual games when he ate. It was a contradiction. Scratching his chin, the shadow thick and bristly, he crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back. Malfoy chewed thoughtfully on his breakfast.
"Let's start again."
Putting down his spoon and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, Draco said loudly, "I don't want to answer questions, I want out of this hell." He steepled his fingers and smiled politely.
"Answer the questions, and you get out."
"Cut off your arm, and you'll bleed to death." He tilted his head. "Still don't get it? Cut of your dick and you'll never be happy again. You know that Sirius, I'll bet it was that Werewolf who bit it off."
Sirius felt his blood getting hot, but his expression remained nonchalant. "You're only betraying yourself by not talking, Malfoy. Think of all the others; they would trade your life for a scrap of food."
"Think that helps? But if you want to use that against me; then I won't sink to their level." He crossed his arms waspishly over his chest.
"I don't think you can sink any lower than where you are, Draco."
He thought he saw something in Draco's eyes shift, like a change in light when it begins to rain. In a sudden torrent of movement, the young man ripped the circlet from his head and threw it down. The table rocked as he shoved away from it, running out of the shack. Sirius rose after him, catching the door as it slammed back. He looked outside, and stifled his voice.
Draco had hit the barrier, banging his fists against the invisible wall, kicking violently. He beat at it like a wild thing, his hair becoming damp with sweat that streamed down his flushed face. Sirius returned into the cottage, staring out the window as Draco stumbled away from the wall and screamed, his whole body contorted, doubled over. And as the boy fell to his knees, fingers clawing at the boundary, Sirius felt ultimately calm. Prisoners had done that often in Azkaban, but they had been scraping at invisible walls that only existed in their head. These walls around him were very real. He sighed deeply, massaging his temples as Draco started prowling the border line like an animal in a tiny cage, occasionally lashing out with his limbs or his voice, the words faint and distant through the window.
When evening came and Sirius finished his spiced drink, he rested his hand against the glass of the window and frowned. The cold stained his bones and ran his veins raw with ice. Having lost sight of the boy hours ago, Sirius hastened to the outside, eyes darting over the black expanse. Walking out in the middle of their area, he finally found Draco, curled up at the base of the partition, fingers bruised and blue with cold, lips dark purple. Even his eyelids were dark, like crushed blueberries. Sirius scooped the limp body up and carried him back in, getting a fire going strong and pulling a chair over to perch the frozen wizard in.
A blanket from the pantry went around Draco's naked shoulders. He had been wearing only a thin cotton shirt. As for his trousers, Sirius didn't touch them, but he did bring the bucket and sponge filled with steaming hot water over to start thawing Draco's hands and feet. After rubbing color back into the skin, Sirius took some of the water in a cup and poured it between Draco's lips. The boy swallowed slowly, eyes fluttering open. When they focused on Sirius, a terrible expression became his face.
He hissed, "I can always sink lower, Black. You're a prime example of that. There is nothing lower than your kind of filth."
"Always the last word. Some thanks, brat."
But Draco kept talking, voice gaining volume. "All of those fools you bother to save, and all of the idiots you work with. A ringleader leading a pack of clowns." His breath whistled through his stiff lips. "And we can't forget the Golden Boy, now can we? Your pathetic mascot. Ironic though, isn't it? You made him an orphan - every tear he ever shed for his parents is stained with their blood, blood that you spilt. And you have him parading around as some kind of savior - like some kind of animal on display. All of us on the other side find it so amusing, the way you have been milking the Potter family for all they're worth. Using them, using Harry like an old tired whore. That's what he is, a whore to you and your pitiful cause."
Sirius's black eyes blazed with a sudden intense fire. Outrage grew thick and hot under his brow. Anger worse than before sprung like an evil fountain, pouring into his veins and heating the skin up his neck and over his face. The brat looked pleased by his reaction, relaxing back into the chair, but Sirius seized his shoulders, wrenching him up.
Draco gasped, awakening sensation tromping through his prickling feet. Angry himself, he glared up into Sirius's eyes, shaping words of protest. But any words died on his tongue at Sirius's expression. It was dangerous, one Draco had only seen on his father's face. He shrunk down, trying to wrestle away.
Teeth gritted, Sirius shoved Draco back, knocking him over the chair. The boy went sprawling to the ground, landing heavily on his hip. A sharp cry just fueled Sirius's rampage and he kicked the chair aside, striding towards Draco's cowering form, standing over him, his chest heaving with suppressed fury. His knees narrowly missed snapping Malfoy's ankles as he slammed to the floor, thumbs stabbing into Draco's delicate collarbone. The blonde wizard gasped in fright, eyes wide like sleeted windows. His hands came to grip Sirius's wrists, pulling at them. Drunk on the rush of power, Sirius shook Draco hard, jarring the boy's chin against his chest.
"Stop-" Draco was gasping shallowly "-you're hurting me!" But then he stopped, a curious look in his eyes. He closed them, and went limp, his head tossing back and forth harder.
It hit Sirius, drenching him in cold, what Draco was doing. He wanted Sirius to hurt him. Taking his hands away quickly, he waited for the Aurors to come crashing down on him, grabbing his arms and yanking him back from the hostage. He waited for the disappointed, disgusted faces of his colleagues. But it never came. Nothing happened. Draco's eyes snapped open, rushing to Sirius's own fearful face. The boy looked slightly panicky.
In their mutual anticipation they found a certain camaraderie. That quickly dissolved as Draco's eyes grew wide and he dragged himself away from Sirius, nursing his side and carrying a look of complete loss.
"They're not coming," he whispered, the fair color of his face and hair all at once making him seem very young.
Sirius realized that the boy spoke the truth. He had harmed a hostage, and the Order had not been aware. They really were alone out here.
'Awkward' barely contained the emotions hanging pregnant in the room. Sirius was still staring at the spot where Malfoy had fallen, in a sort of trance. And Draco was gazing at Sirius, deathly pale. All of the comments, all of the taunts came flooding back to mind. He regretted every one now.
They weren't coming.
There was no promise of escape, or at least someone besides Black to perform the interrogation. No hope left for Snape to come to the rescue, or someone he could lie to like the Werewolf, Lupin.
As reality set in, Sirius realized calmly that he was still angry. He also realized that Malfoy couldn't run his mouth off anymore, not without Sirius doing anything about it. He looked sidelong at the former Slytherin, calm.
Sirius wasn't a bad person. He wasn't cruel, he wasn't thoughtless. Yet he had it in him, a flake of something cold that enabled him years ago in school to torture silly Snivelus. James thought his passion for revenge was tasteless and childish. But James couldn't know, and no one else would know. A dark part of Sirius peaked its ugly head, listing all the heartless tactics the boy had pulled on him for the past weeks. He felt mean.
"What? Don't you have anything to say, Malfoy." Draco flinched at every word. Sirius brushed his fingers through his dark hair; something he did often back in school. "I still have so many buttons. Don't you feel like pushing tonight?" On his knees, he moved closer to the boy. "Any friend you haven't insulted, memories you haven't shredded? Levels you haven't sunk to?" When he said the last words, he nudged Draco's chin with his thumb, hard.
"Stop it," Draco said weakly, eyes listlessly on the floor. "Leave me alone." He felt utterly deflated. Even the fire crackling nearby didn't shed warmth through the abrupt case of quiet despair he was experiencing. Black was close by, he knew that. His sharpened fear told him that much. The stinking dog was near and aware of the power he had all of a sudden inherited over Draco. A power that could not be denied by physical resistance, but by mercy. His gaze bored into the floor, teeth quietly scraping as they clenched.
"Leave you alone? I thought those words didn't have any meaning to you." Sirius craned over, hair falling in a veil over half his face. He still couldn't catch the former Slytherin's eyes, but he was able to see the slight quiver of his chin. An insatiable ambiance pulsed around him, and he delved his hand into Malfoy's hair. When no response came, his fingers tangled in the pale locks. "What was it you said? 'I want nothing more than to get the hell out of this place'? 'I've learned that you do what you can to get what you want. It doesn't matter what it takes, or who with it takes.'?" His grip tightened, slightly arching Draco's head back. "You understood that there are certain rules when it comes to interrogations like these. I can't hurt you. Emotionally or-" Sirius yanked his face close "-physically."
"Let me go," Draco whimpered, eyes still cast defiantly to the side.
"I don't think I will, Malfoy." He let go of the blonde's hair and instead touched the boy's soft cheek. "Why don't we try this a different way; apologize."
That brought those gray eyes round, alive with a mutinous fire.
"I don't apologize to filthy mutts like you, Black."
"No, you just whore yourself out to them."
"Saying sorry is admitting I was wrong. And I wasn't wrong; about anything I said. You're a nothing, Black. Your friends and loved ones aren't worth the ground I walk on."
"That so," Sirius murmured, his thumb brushing the soft skin under Draco's left eye. "Well, all that you said has made me very angry, Draco. And I think it's safe to point out that the tables have turned and you are not in a position to insult anyone right now. Actually," he raised his chin so that his lips brushed Draco's forehead, "now that I'm calling the shots, I say you get in a position to take back everything you've said. And I promise, you'll be taking anything I give you, and in any position I want." The boy stiffened against him. "You dug this hole, and you'll be the one to fill it back up." He looked into ardent gray eyes, alive with renewed vivacity, and smirked.
"Shove off, Black," Draco snarled, like a cornered animal. His lips drew back from his teeth savagely and he shoved Sirius's hands away.
He neatly caught the boy's thin wrists in one hand, pressing them with all his weight to the floor. "What, you don't feel like fulfilling all of those lovely promises you made?" Lips curling in sweet malice, Sirius quickly grabbed Draco about the waist with his other arm, dragging him into his lap. The boy glared at him, with smoldering eyes, cut by stripes of white-blonde hair fallen into his face; his body curved because of his anchored hands. "I'll answer a question for you," Sirius muttered against the boy's ear; "how good it feels to have someone else jerk you off." Draco's breath puffed erratically against his neck, and Sirius could picture the struggling fright in the gray eyes. As the sun's shadow drew lines across the floor, Sirius moved his hand down between the young wizard legs, squeezing gently. Draco's breathy gasp made him close his eyes, near-tears tottering on the brink of his lids. Yes, it had been so long.
Draco's freed hands pressed weakly in protest against Sirius's square chest, making delicate claws out of thin white fingers. The bitter grip Sirius had on him was sickeningly intoxicating. "You can't do this-"
"But I am," Sirius corrected, eyes hungrily devouring the sight of Draco's partially open mouth. "You've pushed me too far."
"It's wrong," Draco reasoned, his spine twisting as he tried to wriggle out of the embrace. "What you're doing is wrong!"
"Wrong," Sirius scoffed, "That fact didn't seem to bother you before." He rammed his palm into Malfoy's groin spitefully, enjoying the rebellious edge to Draco's muffled moan. "And who are you to distinguish between right and wrong?"
Draco shook his head, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, and trying to keep silent. But Sirius's words struck him and he stopped struggling, staring at the older wizard. "You're serious."
"And you're about to eat your words, because I am Sirius."
The words poured out of him; "You're old enough to be my father."
"And you're old enough to be taught a lesson." Sirius arched his head forward, engulfing Draco's scandalized mouth with his own. The boy reacted quickly, snapping his lips shut, but Sirius roughly took hold of his chin and squeezed, hard enough that Draco was forced to unclench his jaw. Sirius shoved his tongue inside Draco's mouth, lips searing the boy's with suppressed heat older than just the interrogation time span. His need began to burn between his legs, reacting to the conscious weight of Draco's hips resting tensely against his. Long fingers ran through silky blonde hair that felt exactly like Lucius's, pinched and rubbed skin that smelled like the older Malfoy. He even tasted like Lucius, a flavor Sirius had never lost since the fleeting kiss they shared out in the rain that day. There was only one difference; this mouth was cold and unresponsive. Draco was like a rag doll in his arms, gray eyes squeezed tightly shut; not in pleasure, but in pain. Sirius scowled, jerking Draco back and digging his fingers into the blonde's soft upper arms. "Old enough to be your father."
The boy's eyes were far colder and more distant than Sirius had ever seen as he slowly wiped away a spot of blood from his lip. Smoldering defiance flared from him. "You're old enough to be my Godfather."
Harry.
Sirius threw Draco away from him, watching in outrage as the boy fell onto his back. Then, trying to dispel the vengeful guilt arising in his chest, he yanked Malfoy up by his arm and slapped him viciously across the face.
"Never mention my Godson!"
"I never mentioned Potter. That was your own perverse guilt." There was a stark red print marring the pale skin of Malfoy's face. His eye was watering on his right side where Sirius had struck him.
Before either could speak further, there was a stiff knock at the door. At first, Sirius thought it was the wind, but there it was again, harder this time. He rose slowly, his eyes willing the red mark on Malfoy's cheek to fade faster. By the third series of knocks, they could tell that whoever was on the other side was becoming agitated. Then a voice:
"Sirius? Honestly, Sirius, it's biting out here!"
It was Remus.
Horror and happiness surged together to create an anxiety sharp and exact. Sirius glanced at Draco to see the boy on his feet, shrugging the cotton garb back onto his shoulders. Hands shaking, he rushed to the door and pulled it open, glaring medium light across Lupin's tired features.
"Sirius," the auburn-haired wizard said, a weary smile lighting his eyes. He stepped into the cottage, welcoming himself in with an embrace around Sirius. The other man returned it too slowly, and Lupin drew back with amusement. "Not glad to see me, I take it?"
Remus's body felt so different from Draco's. It was soft and pliant, and so familiar. Warm.
"No, no!" Sirius assured him, shaking his head and laughing tightly. He could barely see Draco moving out of his peripheral vision. "It's just been cold. Takes a lot of persuasion to open that door." Remus seemed to buy it, patting Sirius heartily on the back.
"Not to be rude, but may I heat up some tea for us all?" Remus moved passed Sirius, smiling at Draco. He went to the pantry, pulling out a whistling kettle. As he poured, his warm amber eyes took in the flushed healthy color of Sirius's cheeks. "Been out to watch the sunrises?"
"Never up that early," Sirius grated out. The moment Moony turned to the pantry for cups, he shot Draco a dark look. But the boy didn't seem aware of him. He walked lightly into the kitchen, taking a cup from a surprised Remus and pouring out tea for all three of them. When he handed Sirius his cup, the Auror caught a fleeting glimpse of something that made his heart skip in an unpleasant way.
Draco had a small, incensed smile on his face.
Remus sat down on Sirius's bed, holding his teacup tightly. "Nothing like a good cup to warm your insides." Taking a slow sip, the werewolf closed his eyes and let the perfectly tempered liquid bathe his throat. His sip grew into a long draw and soon nothing but steam puffed into his mouth. Chuckling slightly, he put the cup down, opening his mouth to excuse himself. Just now it dawned on him, as his jaw froze, that Draco and Sirius hadn't touched their tea. They hadn't moved. And Draco was staring at him, fixedly. In turn, Sirius was looking at the boy with a terrible expression. Remus frowned, and cleared his throat.
Draco blinked, and Sirius jerked around.
"I had hoped my visit would alleviate certain tensions."
Sirius abruptly shot up, clutching his tea cup to his chest. "Let's go outside, Moony."
"You'll freeze," said Draco sharply.
"Sirius?" Remus ventured faintly.
"We'll wear coats."
"Lupin wore a coat, and he seemed to mind the cold very much."
"So we'll wear lots of coats."
"Why Sirius, are you avoiding me? Trying to isolate Lupin?"
"I see you've gotten your mouth back."
"Yes, Sirius. You failed in trying to knock it off my face."
Remus meekly interjected. "Padfoot," he murmured. "What have you done to him?"
"Nothing," Sirius growled.
"He's lying, Lupin." Draco's eyes beseeched the frayed wizard. "The prevention didn't work. The Aurors never came."
Sirius took a threatening step towards the boy. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"What is going on here!?"
"Difficulties," Sirius spat through clenched teeth.
"Well, are they disrupting the process?"
"No, I know how to deal with them."
Face paling, Draco ran to Remus and gripped his shoulders. "Don't go! Take me out of here, or bring someone else. I won't be left alone with him." His eyes filled with disturbingly real tears. "He'll-" he faltered helplessly.
Over the anxious blonde's shoulder, Remus met Sirius's eyes. "What am I supposed to think of this?"
"You're supposed to know that I'm close to cracking this safe, and getting valuable information. He knows it, too. We've seen this tactic before, Moony. Pity, tears. We've come so far already."
Remus looked apologetically back at Draco. "Think of all the lives you're saving."
"He's well aware," Sirius assured, meaningful gaze resting heavly across the boy's shoulders.
Dropping his eyes, Draco grimaced.
Shortly after, Remus left with plenty of comforting lies from Sirius. The boy though, looking disheveled from the inside out, sat slumped on his cot, staring at the floor.
When Sirius came back into the cottage, rubbing feeling back into his hands, Draco was standing in the middle of the floor, looking wearily defiant, resembling again the spindly creature that Sirius had kidnapped from the bowels of Malfoy Manor.
"Just because you can beat me doesn't mean you'll get any answers."
Sirius crossed his arms and leaned back against the door, shrugging. "Arguable."
A biting retort bubbled up to his lips, but Draco doused the fire burning in his chest and his shoulders sunk. He brought his hands up to cover his face.
Thoughts are funny things, and Sirius was struck by a doozy as Draco's shoulders started trembling. His face brightened, and he gleefully whistled the familiar tune as he opened the pantry and found what he had expected to be there. Beaming, he brushed the small clump into his pocket and patted it. Then he turned back to the broken boy. Kneeling down in front of his deafeated charge, Sirius gripped the boy's shoulders and roused a distant gray gaze. "Now let's try this thing again, shall we? I'm in a good mood," he jingled his pocket, "especially since you just earned me eight more galleons."
A/N: Well, that says it all; there's money at the core of everything. According to some dead guy in my history book, all the money hungering is in part to our decaying society. (nodding enthusiastically) Yeah, and now writing that in words, I think I'm going to get a new history book, a happy history book. A history book with... not so much history.