Dark: Last chappie xP
Summary/Disclaimer: check the prologue.
Italics – thoughts
"..." – speaking
Epilogue... No Where To Run
Ten stepped through the entrance, crossing the Slytherin common room and sitting heavily in one of the black leather couches. Her almost sapphire eyes turned to look at the couple in front of her.
Iris was reading a book calmly, entitled 'Angels versus Demons', her curtain of pitch black hair resting over her right shoulder, discarded jumper resting on the arm of the couch, the top three buttons of her white shirt undone as usual. Almost imperceptibly, two tiny letters were embroidered on the pearly white of the left side of the collar. A detailed DM, obviously standing for Draco Malfoy.
Said boy was sprawled on the couch, his head comfortably resting on Iris's lap, the DADA manual placed across his chest, which rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a pale arm draped over his eyes. Once in a while, he would frown and turn his head away, the blood red tips of his girlfriend's hair tickling his skin. If one looked closely, the dark outline of the Dark Mark was clear on the inner side of his left arm, even seen through the ivory of his shirt. He wasn't anywhere near composed of everything that had happened, far from it. He was found many times alone nowadays, looking out of windows with a far away look in his eyes, features blank and unreadable. But he wasn't as fragile as she herself felt after... his death.
It was the last week of January and it was Wednesday, the only day of that week sixth year Slytherins had had a break from the first row of exams of the term. It had been almost two months since the War. Since Albus Dumbledore's-
"He asleep?" the heiress nodded towards the blonde teen.
"Hnn..." Draco gave signs of his existence, turning on his side, his back to the girl after shoving the book off him finally, ignoring the quiet 'thump' it gave when falling to the floor.
The black haired girl turned the page of her book, "That means 'no'." her hand running through the wizard's silvery blonde hair almost absently, "He was revising counter spells for tomorrow, but got bored and just laid down on my lap instead."
"I see." An auburn eyebrow rose in amusement, "And since you're reading now, I dare say you're ready for tomorrow's exam, then?"
"I feel like it." Iris closed her book, "The Patronus Charm, and just a few other things. Meh, should be easy. Or at least the teacher gave signs of it."
"Ten." Both girls looked up, the Slytherin Prince still slumbering away. Blaise Zabini passed by them. "Potter's outside."
"Thanks." She got up, leaving her backpack on the couch. Stepping outside, her lips turned upwards.
The Boy-Who-Lived was leaning against the wall, hands behind his back. At hearing the quiet footsteps, he looked up, a few wisps of black hair falling into his eye sight and turning his eyes even lighter and brighter against the heavy contrast. As he recognized her, his lips broke into a charming grin, a grin which had been very rarely used through his life.
Pulling away from the wall, he opened his arms wide. Letting out a quiet giggle, Ten ran into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck.
"How are you feeling?"
The girl pulled away a bit, making a face, "You now have the habit of asking that every time you see me, did you notice that? I saw you not even an hour ago and here you are, asking me how I'm doing."
Harry stuck out his tongue playfully, "Can't blame me for worrying."
"Guess not." Her head rested comfortably against his chest, "I'm better."
That was the sentence she always said. And the boy had the feeling it would not change. After her grandfather's death, he very much doubted she would ever be the same again. She seemed aged beyond her years, beyond her words, in the way Koltchak looked and perhaps more. Koltchak had to deal with being an orphan through her whole life; Ten as well, but had always had Dumbledore. And now...
His lips brushed over her temple, "Good. And guess what?"
Sapphire eyes, which he didn't believe would ever have that playful twinkle in them again, locked with his jade ones, "What?"
"I'm gonna beat you at Quidditch." The corner of his lips turned upwards.
She blinked. Then smacked him, "Psh... You wish, Potter!"
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Like every other year, the stands and tall towers were completely full. Three quarters of the crowd were coloured in vivid scarlet and shiny golden clothes, the minority of it in dark emerald green and bright silver. Warm and cold colours, courage against cunning, Gryffindor versus Slytherin: that was what they were, opposites and eternal rivals.
A slightly nervous breath passed through pale rosy lips as Ten glanced at the immense crowd outside. As if in a trance, those same hues rested over the headmistress's seat, where in previous occasions, her eyes had locked with a pair of identical ones. Such simple gesture would never ever happen again, her mind remembered her once more; her chin lowered. Cold fingers rested over her shoulder, the cold skin felt even through her viridian robes. She turned around, looking into pale silver orbs.
Draco softened his features ever so slightly, "Feeling alright?" Not many people would think this would be his way of dealing with the loss of his father; being quiet, away from everyone, still with the sharp tongue and wit and smirk in place. But she knew better. She and Iris knew. He wasn't a boy to cry, to mourn. He dealt with such situations silently, mulling over them. He was far more quiet than he was and, despite the hatred he still felt for things Lucius had done, things people still blamed him for, he was very sensible when someone brought up that subject.
She gave a short nod, "I'm fine. Is everyone ready?"
He turned around, nodding, and turning the broom in his fingers so that it rested over his shoulder, his eyes rested back on hers, "Seems like it. Shall we go?"
The cheers of the crowd grew louder as fourteen brooms flew out of the entrances, seven players dressed in cheery red and gold, the remaining seven in dark jade and silver.
They floated in a perfect circle around the one already drawn on the grass un the middle of the pitch, both Seekers a bit ahead.
Emerald green hues searched cold steady light grey ones, the sun above making them almost look as if they were actually soft green and silvery blue. The tension was high but, despite such fact and difference from most games, the old hatred from before was no longer there. Well... At least not as noticeable, that is.
A sudden blink of golden light reflected by the sun and that was the sign of the sneaky Snitch: the game had begun. The captains rose high in the sky, exactly opposite to each other, seemingly lost in their own incessant search; although, if a good observant looked closely, they would catch the small glimpses the two boys would send in each other's directions, as to make sure the other had not found the little nut-sized ball.
Several feet below, the situation was not as calm.
"...AND- MERLIN, WATCH OUT FOR THAT BLUDGER, WEASLEY!!!"
Ginny lowered herself on her broom horizontally, said handball-sized bludger grazing her fiery hair. The black ball kept on flying through the other remaining Gryffindor Chasers, the force behind Goyle's throw quite evident.
Turning 360 degrees around the hilt of her broom so that the bludger didn't hit her, Ten adverted her eyes over to the beater in question, "It was a nice enough throw, but next time try not to make me fall off my own broom, 'k?" the heiress barely noticed the boy scratching the back of his head and even less, her words escaping her lips. Sky blue eyes followed Ginny's movements, perfectly knowing she would score.
"10 POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR, AND IT'S 50-50!!!"
And score, she did. She probably wouldn't have, if Ten herself hadn't made that stunt because of Goyle. Anyway, what was done was done. Her eyes turned upwards, the Seekers unaware of everything, or at least, it seemed like it, as they both continued with their search.
"I know we won't win against Gryffindor." Draco had said, just as the team got to the changing rooms. He was already there, looking out of the window and completely dressed, as the six remaining teens looked up at him as the leader and captain he was. Or maybe, they were merely wondering for how long he had been there already. "They're strong, as you all know. And have great confidence in each other and in Potter." At that, everyone looked down, except Ten. Hate wasn't exactly the feeling she would describe his words with. It was more like... envy. A rich snobbish boy envious of an orphan and his fame. "And I know you don't have that trust in me, nor do I ask you to; I'm not worth it. But..." the players were now looking at him in a mixture of confusion and raised eyebrows, "At least once, just once, I wanted to catch that Snitch before he does."
Everyone knew how much Draco enjoyed Quidditch. Alright, so he did buy his entrance to the team, but he was a good flyer, slender and light, which made nice enough traits to be a good Seeker. And right now, Ten felt divided on who to cheer on. Shame that both of them cannot win.
All of this, of course, passed in her mind in less than three seconds. She was still in the middle of a match, a final no less, and a slight distraction could mean her death by a bludger, or her breaking her column for not gripping the broom securely enough. I may not be a true Slytherin, some might still be sore as to why I ended up here while having Gryffindor blood, – let's not forget that a common ancestor of the Dumbledore line were the Gryffindors, namely Godric – but like this, among them, I feel like one. A playful smirk tipped the left corner of her lips upwards, So, let the snake play with the lion.
She flew through the sky, wind making her eyes burn, but she was intent on getting the Quaffle. Gripping the broom's hilt painfully tight, since she had just done the stunt she was about to do a couple of times before, her body rose in the air for a moment, enough for her arms to twist the broom and make the hilt of it hit the Quaffle out of Ginny's arms, much to the younger witch's surprise.
At the back of her mind, she heard the gasps and screams from the audience; after all, she was just holding on to her broom by her hands and over one hundred feet from what was sure to be a painful death. But then again, it was in times like these it was really good to be both light and slender.
With a graceful move, she was back into the broom, Blaise having successfully caught the Quaffle as she had had in mind. A grin crossed her lips.
Noticing as a bludger was heading towards her, she flew down, the two remaining Slytherin Chasers flanking her. As the beaters of the opposing team smacked both bludgers towards their half moon formation, they separated, Blaise passing her the Quaffle, since other two Chasers were starting to close on him.
Holding out her left arm, the football-sized ball landed on it, trailing up and over her shoulders and stopping on her open right hand. Pulling the hilt of her broom backwards in order to stop rather suddenly, the remaining five Chasers lifted their eyebrows in question. After all, she had just barely reached three quarters of the pitch and she was sure everyone was thinking she couldn't possibly-
Her arm rose.
-try to-
With enough force to make the ball cross the whole field, the Quaffle left her hand, heading to the Gryffindor posts.
-score,-
"SCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!! DUMBLEDORE SCORED ALMOST FROM THE MIDDLE FIELD!!! THAT WAS A BEAUTIFUL, I REPEAT, BEAUTIFUL GOAL!!! IT'S 60-50, SLYTHERIN WINNING! WOW, THAT SHOULD BE A FIRST..."
-but score, she did, against all odds.
Her hues turned up, stopping in a figure clad in very much alike her own Quidditch robes, Against all odds, Draco. We can do it. It's up to you now.
Unless it was for the usual comment coming from the Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith, Draco was completely unaware of whatever was going down below him. But even that was now and then; mercury eyes were searching, his mind concentrating in noticing the telltale golden gleam, which happened to be the casual wristwatch of someone sometimes and was really getting irritating.
Not for the first time in Slytherin vs. Gryffindor matches, Draco felt hopeless. Harry had always made him feel that way. The boy moved on by sheer determination, flew like no one else ever did and, if put into thought, he wondered if Krum himself reached to his level. It was instinct that drove him forward, the love for the game.
Draco was not like that.
He loved the game, he really did. But he moved with a styled grace, making flying look pretty much like walking. What drove him was the need to prove himself, to make someone proud. He had done that for his father. Which had never been accomplished.
"You are a fool. You do nothing but disgrace the name of our family."
His fingers tightened around the hilt of the broom, knuckles turning white, not that they weren't in the first place, Lucius' words lingering in his mind. Harry was an orphan. He always knew his parents loved him, despite being dead. Draco had always proved himself to be called 'a worthy son of Lucius Malfoy'. He had known no love, no admiration, no nothing. He didn't know what it was like to have a childhood.
So, really, he and Potter weren't all that different. Or were they? Ah, but there was when the whole Dark Lord thingy came in.
He was famous. Draco was too, after all he was one of the wealthier teens in the Wizarding world, but there was no possible comparison. He was loved and admired by everyone. Draco was not, nor would he ever be. He was loyal and brave and generous and loving. Draco was none of that. He had always been protected. Draco was left to his own luck. He always wan. Draco didn't.
And, leave the 'spoiled brat' thing for a bit, but was it really too much just asking for one victory? Just this time? To know how it felt, how it felt to win like that. It seemed so important suddenly...
Instinctively and unconsciously, his silver eyes left their search and found a familiar slightly tanned face, red lips and silvery blue eyes to match, brought out by the unbelievably black hair that whipped across them with the wind. The pure white cloak Iris was wearing now was given to her by him back at the beginning of the month. And even if it had a Warming Charm on it, her cheeks were reddened by the cold. She was, as he knew she would be, looking at him intently. She was the one person he did fight for, the only one he wanted to prove himself to.
His eyes narrowed, And I will. Just as he was about to turn away from her, a flicker of gold was seen. He kept his eyes on it, following it with Seeker precision and immediately knowing that wasn't the annoying gleam of someone's watch, bracelets or earrings. Instantly, his eyes looked over at Potter, who was with his back turned to him. He grinned, Excellent.
As he turned back to catch sight of the Snitch, his heart almost skipped a beat, the grin fading as quickly as it had appeared. It wasn't there. No! His eyes searched once more; it had to be there! Then again, was he really hoping to turn around and then come back and it would be in the same place? Certainly not. That was one of the reasons why the bloody little thing was so hard to catch in the first place. And just then, there it was again. That little glint.
He turned his broom towards it so suddenly he almost fell off and leaned back so much, the speed he was reaching was almost nauseous. He dared not to cast his eyes away from it, not again. His right hand was already outstretched towards it despite still being a bit behind, the adrenaline high on his bloodstream.
And it would start. The rustling of robes was heard. Harry was right behind him. A frown of concentration was on his usually blank features. He leaned forward, as much as he could without falling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry do the same.
Below, the game had stopped. All six Chasers, four Beaters and two Keepers looked up, knowing that the match was about to end.
"Who do you reckon will win?" Blaise muttered, not looking away from the two red and green blurs.
"Hard to say." The heiress answered him quite truthfully, Quaffle under her arm, "They both have similar chances. The mistake of one will be the victory of the other."
Both brooms were now at a break-neck speed, crossing the whole expanse of the pitch. To escape them both, the Snitch tried a downwards turn. The Seekers followed with no hesitation whatsoever.
Many people had already turned away from the sight. The ground was getting closer and closer and neither one of them seemed to be willing to give up first. It was then that the Snitch almost turned right, then decided to turn a sharp left, escaping them both. Though it wasn't expecting to be caught by Draco's long fingers.
Beside him, the blond noticed absently, Harry had pulled up his broom, letting it come to a smooth stop, hovering a few feet above the ground.
As for his own broom, it was still flying at a rather fast speed; he was still digesting the fact that he had wan. Draco Malfoy had won against Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived wasn't as unbeatable as everyone thought he was.
He fell on his hands and knees, gasping mouthfuls of air, the little Snitch fisted tightly in his hand. Since the crowd's noise seemed to have diminished all of a sudden, he supposed they still hadn't understood what had happened. Glad to know I'm not the only one.
As quickly as he had landed, he got up, squaring his shoulders. Lifting his head slowly, he let his light hues roam the stands. It seemed as if everyone was gawking at him, eager to see both his hands empty, so that the chase could start all over again. Of course that no one, no one, believed he'd be able to defeat the great and legendary Harry J. Potter. Hence, not even he himself quite believed it either.
There were mocking eyes, probably laughing behind their thick warm scarves, as to why he had just sprawled himself onto the ground like that. There were curious eyes, for those same reasons. But in the middle of hundreds of pairs of eyes, only one silvery set caught his attention. They were wide, expecting, hopeful, their owner's hands clutching the material of the forest green and silver scarf, which he knew was his. As if in slow motion, his right hand rose.
The soft flapping of the delicate golden wings tickled his knuckles, making a respective soft smile dance on his pale lips. The sunlight also seemed to comply with his will as it hit the Snitch in just the right way so that in nearly every angle, it shined brightly. A deafening silence overcame the crowd, every stare on the little ball in his hand.
His smile widened to a light grin, grey eyes lightening to liquid mercury. His high cheekbones were reddened by the cold, making his skin seem even paler than it was and, like it was doing to the Snitch, the sun almost made his fair hair have a soft light of its own, turning it from light blond colour to something very close to white. The brilliance shining down on him prolonged even internally. A strange sense of happiness started to be felt in his heart; he even wondered if it was even his own. And just as a Cheering Charm would, it spread quickly through every fibber of his body.
And much like the happiness spreading, so did the knowledge, sinking into everyone assisting, starting by one single clap.
Draco looked up in surprise. Harry was still in his broom, a few feet above him, clapping, actually clapping in his honour for his victory. Regretfully, it seemed, the rest of the Gryffindor team followed his example.
As if that settled everything, the green and silver population broke into joyous cheering, loud whistling and spiteful mockery towards the Gryffindor's, all the pent up annoyance, disappointment and rage from five long years of losing finally let lose. His own team grinned and congratulated one another, flying fast towards him. All six of them climbed down their brooms, running in his direction.
Ten got to him first, placing both hands over his cheeks, pulling his head down and pecking his forehead. "You were great. And for once, you do have the right to act all arrogant." She pulled back, grinning as Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott practically perched themselves on Draco's shoulders, Crabbe and Goyle merely standing to the side, along with their Keeper. "Party at the Common Room this evening!"
"YEAH!"
"Malfoy." A soft voice called as they retreated to the changing rooms. Harry had landed. "Congrats. Nice catch."
And for the first time anyone could recall after Harry's refusal at accepting Draco's friendship right at the beginning of their first year, the Slytherin smiled at the Gryffindor. A soft smile, but a true one nevertheless. Once they were only a foot apart, Harry held out his hand.
Behind the mask of arrogance, something sparkled in the silver eyes of the youngest Malfoy. He shook his hand, "Thanks."
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Draco's lips turned into a pleasant smile, his hand placing a delicate cup of glass down on the table in front of him, "Apple martini. Nice choice."
"Meh." Blaise reached over and took the blindfold away from his companion's eyes. He had tried, several times, to put into test Draco's so called knowledge for alcoholic drinks. And it seemed that, much like his charm with ladies, it was true. "Is there any drink you can't guess?"
"I started drinking in my thirteenth birthday. Got the taste of it and here I am." Flashing him a lazy smile, he picked up the fine cup. Tilting his head back ever so slightly, his thin lips not even looking as if they were parted at all, he drank the rest of the drink. "Besides, I don't need to worry too much. I've a good endurance when it comes to alcohol."
"Some of us don't, it seems." The other's amused voice made him turn around to look. Pansy Parkinson was a bit too pale, maybe even slightly greenish. Then again, that might be because of the dungeon's torches, which held fire of a green silvery colour. "And with butterbeer. That barely has any alcohol, if at all."
"Two percent, I believe." Uninterestingly, his eyes left the pug faced girl and ran along the expense of the room. Students were having fun everywhere, whether it was playing Exploding Snap, wizard chess, chatting or even - his orbs went back to that scene, incredibly amused, - half dressed and shoving their tongues down their partners' throats.
Right in front of him, there was a round table, enough for six people to sit around comfortably. There were three boys and one girl. Three boys which weren't far from starting drooling, and a calm, amused Iris B. Koltchak. They were playing wizard Poker. Strip wizard Poker, to be exact. And as if wasn't enough, she was using his money.
"C'mon, boys, pass me the money." The black haired girl grinned as she wan the round... again. She was kind of happy that Draco wasn't there and had been lots of times blindfolded as he guessed the drinks Blaise handed him. No, she wasn't doing anything she shouldn't. Just that, strip Poker wasn't the best game to play if one was in a relationship. And her cloak and scarf were off. Oh, well...
"Bleh, can't we even ask you what to take off when you lose? Because I can't lose much more and I'm getting cold and seeing a bit of skin might-"
"Don't you even dare finishing that sentence, Pucey, you won't live to regret it. And you owe me five galleons and three sickles." Her previously warm silver eyes turned to icy hues, the colour of ice water or of fiery stars on a hot summer night.
"Hmph. I still say you cheat." The boy rolled his dark eyes, but gave her the money nevertheless.
"I do not cheat. Though I admit I have a lot of luck." She grinned arrogantly.
"Hu huh, luck... And a rich boyfriend, don't forget that part."
"Got a problem with that, Pucey?" all three boys tensed their shoulders at the new voice. They all looked over at the witch.
Behind her, Draco stood, looking over at them. Not glaring, but not in a very friendly way either. His hands were placed over the young woman's shoulders, massaging them absently. Iris had a faint smile on her lips and was downright ignoring the mistrustful looks exchanged by the four wizards around her.
Pucey frowned, glanced over at the girl for an instant and slid his eyes away right after, "Nah. Just a pleasant chat between fellow Slytherin's."
"Ah." Grey eyes flashed dangerously, "I see." He leaned in, settled in letting go of the issue for the moment, lips beside her ear, "Shall we take a walk?" his tongue traced her earlobe playfully before he straightened up. As he started to walk away, his hand caught a fine tress of her hair, pulling gently in a beckoning motion.
Her eyes slowly opened, the coldness from before now oddly gone, their silver clearness almost startling. Giving a charming smile (which many suspected she had learnt from Draco himself) to the remaining boys, she got up, "Excuse me."
"Merlin, what a waste..." Pucey's eyes were glued to the sashaying hips of the witch walking away, "Malfoy's a lucky bastard..."
Avery grinned, "Sadly, it's true. Though he broke his record; he's been with her for over three days."
From the other side of the table, Theodore Nott chuckled, "Yeah. And he gets bored fairly easy. How many times do you think they've had-"
A loud thump interrupted him. Pucey's goblet on the table. A crack appeared from the bottom of it, up till the top, "Be quiet. She's something special, I know it. And he won't be happy if we start talking about it like that. You know what he's very capable of doing."
"Meh, when it comes to Malfoy, I'm only worried about my position on the team-"
"Well, don't be." Pucey looked down, "I'd give good money for a few nights with her, but I'm not stupid enough to say that in his face, or hers for that matter. One look at her for what he thinks is too long and you might feel something's strange when you wake up next morning."
Nott made a face, "Sheesh, you think she's that good? I mean, her body is, but that temper isn't something I'm looking forward to put up with. I doubt she's worth that much trouble."
"Oh?" his dark eyes narrowed, "I saw him kill his own father. For her. And, even if I didn't hear him, he mouthed he loved her. How do you explain that?"
"That he's happy."
All three boys blinked at the interruption and looked up. Ten's amused bright blue eyes stared back at them, "There's nothing to explain. They're happy with each other. And nothing you say will change that."
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Iris pulled the warm cloak around her frame tighter. The snow beneath her feet was extremely cold and slightly slippery and her trousers were wet almost till her knees by now.
Beside her, the boy in question walked calmly, the snow crunching beneath his dragon hide boots, clearly heard and covering the sound of her own light footsteps. Despite suspecting he had also slipped once or twice, he showed no signs of it, that grace he always held shown in the way his shoulders were posed, the tilt of his chin. She smiled at that.
In a comfortable silence, they had come out onto the grounds and were now heading into the lake's direction. The grounds were completely full of snow, glinting off the tree tops far, far away on the Forbidden Forest. Its whiteness put the use of a Lumos spell unnecessary; the moonlight hit off of it and illuminated their path.
"I like the simplicity of life, you know..." as he glanced at her, her eyes softened as she looked at him sideways. Small flakes of snow gathered on the very edge of her skyward dark lashes; as she blinked, the motion made thin rivulets of water flow down her cheeks reminding him of tears. Slightly bigger flakes were on her hair, making it look like the velvety black sky with tiny diamond-like stars at midnight, before they melted and wetted her hair, the tips forming thick interrogation marks plastered to her cheeks, cloak or temples or larger locks already curling in delicate ringlets.
The boy lifted a golden eyebrow in question, "Isn't that ironic... Since your life has been everything but simple ever since you met me. And the Boy-Who-Isn't-Able-To-Die." The cold had made his cheeks slightly coloured, pale rosy, making his light eyes stand out like liquid mercury, his own eyelashes supporting one or two snow flakes as well and the whole whiteness of the scene behind him making his hair look more like silvery white.
"That may be..." her silvery eyes turned skywards, the stars reflecting in them, turning them brighter, darker, more mysterious, more enticing, "But then again... Of the sky, I only want a single star. Of the ocean, a small drop." At noticing the raise of his other eyebrow, she completed the saying, "Of the world, a single person. You."
Draco bit back a quiet laugh, "Don't tell me you're turning sappy..." his arm raised as her hand failed to smack him playfully.
"You and your snotty remarks really know how to break the mood..."
"Hn..." he stepped behind her, holding her wrists not forcefully, but none too gently. With that hold on her, it wasn't hard to pull her against his chest, no space left between them. "But I'm not bad at doing the opposite either, am I."
"You're full of yourself, hasn't anyone told you that before?" Iris tried to ignore the shivers of delight running up and down her spine and the soft wisps of his hair tickling her sensitive skin as he leaned in.
Unconsciously, and against her will, her voice lowered, "Draco..." she could almost feel his lips curl into a smirk.
He let go of her wrists, arms wrapping around her waist to pull her as close to him as he possibly could. A very light, very quiet sound was heard and, if it wasn't so close to her, she would misunderstand it as the wind. One of his arms let go of her and the sound repeated itself again. Just as she was about to ask him what it was, his hand lifted, a very thin, delicate chain dangling to the wind right in front of her.
The chain itself was silver, and made of that same material as well, like most of whatever metal objects he possessed, its petite links winking gently in the moonlight as they moved. A slightly larger link in the form of a detailed M hung there, supporting a twinkling, small sphere. That little sphere was white, perhaps with a silvery tinge depending on the light, black sparks appearing through it every few seconds. It seemed to emit a faint glow right from its center and, despite being small, it seemed to radiate beauty. Her eyes widened.
"Take it." His voice whispered to her quietly, but instead of doing so, she pulled away from his embrace. A look of confusion, hurt and anger crossed his eyes.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Draco, but I can't accept it." Iris knew very well what that little sphere was. In short, rough words, it was an extremely efficient weapon to kill the boy standing in front of her with a simple tightening of one's fist. In a more educational sense of the explanation, it was an Animus Charm. The sphere itself held the essence of one's soul and as long as the shimmering glow was there, the person to whom it belonged to was well and perfectly healthy. Centuries ago, it had been used by lovers; at giving the necklace, they'd be proving their trust and faithfulness to their partners. It wasn't a gift to be taken lightly either. And that was why she wasn't sure she should take it herself. What if she lost it? What if she broke it? The girl shuddered at what would happen then. "What if something happens-" a finger was placed over her lips.
"Nothing will happen." He smiled very softly, "My mother wanted to make sure I was alright while I was at Hogwarts. So she took a strand of my hair and made the Animus Charm. A few months ago, she gave it to me when I asked her to; I wanted to give it to you, to wait for the right moment. I want you to have it."
She could not say no to that, "If you say so." Reaching up to pull her hair away from her nape, she let her chin lean forward. A quiet 'click', his fingers against her skin to adjust the chain and place the little sphere brushing one or two inches below her collarbone, and he pulled his hands away, pulling away a bit and standing in front of her.
"This chain has a bit of magic in it as well. No one can take it off of you, but yourself or me, since it's my Animus Charm after all."
Absently, Iris nodded. Her hand reached up, gingerly touching the sphere and letting it roll over her palm. She only came out of her reverie when something cool was felt around her left index finger. Blinking, she brought her hand up.
Wrapped around the base of her finger, a little ring in the form of a snake looked up at her curiously. Its eyes were made of two small onyx stones, glinting gently in the faint light and a trail of small emeralds flanked by even smaller crystals went since its head to the middle of its thin body made of silver. It lifted its head at the movement of her hand, the petite nostrils flaring, the forked tongue coming out to taste the night air. It blinked. The snake slithered around her finger once, before resting its head on her knuckle and nuzzling her skin fondly.
Without thinking about what she was doing, her right hand raised as well, one finger patting the head of the snake. It leaned into her touch happily.
"It likes you."
She finally raised her eyes to him as he said that. His hands were on the pockets of his trousers, his eyes calm and looking into hers, maybe slightly amused. Despite that, not even now could she read them; they were still blank, no hint of what he was thinking in them. "I suppose so, but.. why?"
His lips curved into a smile, "I didn't give you anything for your birthday, did I? Consider it as a very, very delayed gift."
In response, the girl felt herself start to smile as well, "But I haven't gotten you anything for your birthday either." She blinked, "Actually, I don't even know when your birthday is in the first place."
"September 9th." Draco replied smoothly, "And I expect a nice gift from you for my 17th birthday." crossing the two steps that separated them, his arms wrapped around her frame, pulling her close once more.
"Aren't you spoiled enough as it is?" she let him, placing one hand over his chest, the other around his neck.
"Does that really matter?" his lips brushed over hers in a silent unfulfilled promise, "You're the one to blame."
Her reply was cut short as his lips captured hers in a soft, but dominant kiss. The cold and the snow falling all around them were soon forgotten.
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Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, "What's with the smile?"
Ten didn't change her position, other than place her own hands over Harry's. Her eyes were dancing with amusement, reflected in the glass of the window in front of her, as was her smile, the couple outside in the grounds well seen from the Gryffindor Tower mainly because of the boy's dark clothing, "They seem happy, don't they." It was more like a statement than a question.
Bright green eyes looked across the white coloured grounds at the two embracing Slytherin's, "I suppose. Voldemort's gone, Lucius is dead. Nothing for them to worry about. Or us, for that matter."
"For now, you mean." She turned around in his arms, placing her hands over his shoulders, "No matter how much we run, there's no escape from evil. Not even here, huh? And it's just what we are. The Resistance. The hope of the Wizarding world." She pecked his lips lightly, "The new generation. And we will defeat whatever crosses our path. It all started when you were barely one year old and it won't stop."
The boy smiled, "You're right. As always." His lips brushed against her temple, "Besides, I'm good at not dying, did you notice?" her chuckle was music to his ears.
"Yeah, you have a knack for that. That's why I love you."
"Love you too."
Fin
Thanks 2:
Tenebrae Rosa: Maa, wudn't say u'v never done anything 4 me (take all the gifts u give me 4 instance xDD), but if u really dun think u did, well, then write me a nice lemon featuring Iris & Draco & I'll b happy xDDD Just kidding… & I think that's normal 4 some, acting that way I mean. Not speaking 4 myself, since I talk & write about sex in a completely careless manner :P dun mind about it one bit, whether it's in front of girls or guys.
Dark: Completed. Not my best work, but I'm proud of it nevertheless. Luckily, the sequel will turn out better. Or so I hope :P Hehe, catch u next time.