Title: Ardor Animorum

Author: AristideCauquemaire

Pairing: Scorpius Malfoy/James Sirius Potter

Rating: M for grown-up language and sexual situations and themes.

Warnings: original characters; slash, non-consensual situations

Boy, there's a spike in my story stats. Thank you for reading, dear readers :) I just hope that no one got confused - there were more visitors to the first chapter of Ardor than to the last of Calor, so some of you seem to have skipped something.

Thanks to GracefulWarrior, Rebecca1303, greenerwhereyouwater and SongOfTheShadows for favving, reviewing and/or following, respectively!

Now, on to chapter 2! Oh, and... the third warning totally applies for this chapter. Bit different from before... mhh. Enjoy!

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Chapter 2

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When the door creaked shut behind him, very little light fell into the trophy room at 9 p.m. Just a faint glow of torches and candles through the narrow window, and a small halo remained that crept in through the crack under the door and the keyhole.

It was so dark, in fact, that he didn't even see Potter until he moved.

"Lose the wand," he said. His dark shape uncrossed its arms.

"I-" An almost involuntary sound.

"Put it on the shelf." A clear order.

"Potter-" A plea.

"Now." Emphatically.

Scorpius hesitated for several seconds. Then he complied, very aware that he was breaking Professor Finnigan's third rule: Avoid being disarmed at all costs. Then again, those rules applied only in combat situations, didn't they? Against hostile forces. Enemies.

He had always been aware that what he had done to James Potter would forever keep them from becoming friends, and that James would rightfully hate him. Now, for the first time he wondered whether he had done more than even that – whether he had made an enemy of him. In that sense.

"Potter, I never meant-" With an undue amount of breath, he even managed to make it sound steady.

"Shut up."

He did.

"Stand over here."

When Scorpius didn't move, Potter came forward, grabbed the front of Scorpius' robe, shirt, tie and collar all at once and practically hauled him across the room. Scorpius bumped backwards into the shelf, accidentally biting his tongue in the process.

The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He felt clearly the wooden struts press against his shoulders, the small of his back and his backside. The shelf seemed to vibrate along in time with his pulse, like a huge drum skin. At the same time, it all felt unreal. Like a dream. A nightmare?

"Put the tie over your eyes. Like last time." Potter had let his robe go. His voice was void of inflection now, his face barely visible in the dimness.

But it was close. If Scorpius reached out with his hand, he knew he could touch it.

"Why?" The word sounded skinny. It almost cracked.

James didn't reply.

"Is this some sort of punishment?"

It didn't feel like it, other than that it reminded him acutely of the most miserable, most humiliating day of his life, and that his stomach was rotating with anxiety.

It didn't feel like anything he could grasp. This was too weird and had quickly gone too far already for some elaborate revenge prank – not to mention that James Potter wasn't the type for that to begin with. It was confusing and frightening.

And exciting.

Scorpius gripped the shelf's struts so tightly his palms started to hurt. The pain reminded him that he couldn't just touch him, even though he was within reach. Right there.

"Do it," Potter said through clenched teeth.

Again, Scorpius complied. His fingers trembled so hard that he slipped twice while trying to loosen the Double Windsor that held his tie around his neck. When it was loose enough, he lifted it up, tilted his head back and pulled it tight again when it lay across his eyes.

Even though the room had been rather dark, not seeing anything at all – indeed, not even being able to open his eyes, to lift his eyelids – was different. Something like dread settled heavily in his tummy. He held on to the shelf as if for dear life.

For a long time, nothing happened.

"How does it feel, Malfoy?" Potter suddenly asked.

His voice seemed much closer. It seemed to fill out the entirety of the blackness around.

A reluctant twinge of arousal shot through him. "A- ... I'm...," he stammered.

"This is what you hoped would happen all along, isn't it?"

Another tug on the front of his robe made Scorpius readjust his grip on the bookshelf behind him, expecting to be pulled violently across the room again, just sightless this time which would make it much worse.

Instead, James threw open Scorpius' robe with a brusque motion, pulled out his shirt tails where he had tucked them in and started to unbutton his shirt.

Scorpius couldn't breathe. His entire body broke out in sweat.

A nightmare. A dream.

He didn't move, didn't even dare to lift his hands and defend himself... from... whatever it was that was happening to him. "P- Potter..."

"That's why you're not resisting at all," James observed, ignored his stuttering, pulled open Scorpius' belt and undid the button of his trousers.

Scorpius started squirming then, suddenly aware of the vulnerability of the body part he was about to expose, aware of how embarrassing it all was. But at the same time, the embarrassment was drowning in excitement that made his blood pound like hammer blows as it rushed through his body.

James Potter was touching him.

James Potter was touching him.

James Potter was touching him.

Next time James' voice rang out, it was almost right next to his ear. Scorpius went rigid.

"You get off on this helplessness thing, don't you?" he asked with contempt.

"Aah," he breathed by the way of an answer. He was so warm. Potter's body heat raised his own, and his body trapped the warmth between them.

"I've been thinking about this during the holidays," Potter told him, his words tickling Scorpius' earlobe. "At first I took you for a sadist. Thought you just loved to humiliate and torment..."

While he spoke, he zipped open his fly. Slowly, deliberately. Scorpius inhaled with a trembling hiss at the sensation. "I thought it fit very well with that funny little spell of yours. Putting defenceless people in heat... Stripping away their dignity..."

He swallowed. His brain focussed on the word 'stripping' as Potter's nimble fingers peeled away his trousers from his crotch.

"But that's not right at all, is it?"

Cold air seemed to rush in when James suddenly took a step back. Scorpius' bared upper body broke out in goosebumps. He locked his jaw to suppress disappointed sounds and canted his hip to hide and protect the bulge between his thighs.

"The way you... presented yourself to me that last day," Potter mused. "The things you did..."

Feeling a touch to his neck, Scorpius held very still again. Potter's hand slid past his ear, to the back of his head, fleetingly touching the back of his neck which had to be hot and slick with sweat.

"... when I did this..."

He buried his fingers in his hair, closed his fist and pulled. Roughly.

Scorpius yelped in surprise and pain and also, undeniably, lust. He couldn't help but tilt his head back and expose his throat.

James Potter was touching him.

Potter stepped close again suddenly. He pushed his body into Scorpius', making him feel just how much more powerful he was. Scorpius felt profoundly that he was much taller, much older, much stronger than himself.

He felt helpless at his hands.

He shuddered. With ecstasy.

"Being at someone's mercy makes you hard," Potter all but growled into his ear and drove his hip and thigh against Scorpius' crotch. "Does it not?"

A bright lightning bolt of pleasure struck him, making his knees go weak and setting the middle of his body on fire from within. He wanted to correct him, wanted to say 'just at yours', but that pressure against his erection, even though two layers of clothing, the sweet pain on his scalp and the sheer closeness robbed him of his breath, and of his ability to speak and to think straight. All that came out was a moan.

"It was all a substitution game," James whispered breathlessly as if he had just run a sprint. "What you really wanted, you couldn't get, so you did it to me and lived it vicariously."

Long moments went by in which Scorpius didn't dare to move although he wanted nothing more on this earth than to grind against him. Their agitated breathing rang loudly through the room.

"That means I haven't really been the victim at all, doesn't it?" Potter whispered, still panting.

A small 'uhn'-sound escaped Scorpius' mouth when Potter readjusted his grip on his hair, giving it a little painful jerk.

"It means that I was the master all along," he continued and tilted his hip a little, causing friction that made Scorpius gasp, "and that makes you the slave."

A peculiar thrill overcame him at hearing that. Feeble words of protest died in his throat when Potter suddenly tugged on the blindfold, taking it off, then took a step back again.

Scorpius blinked. His eyes felt wet. Potter's visual shape before him was blurry, but he himself, his presence, was distinct and overwhelmingly solid. Warm. Utterly alive. Strong. Stronger than him.

"You will obey me," he said.

Scorpius shivered, inside out from a place that was deep at the core, then felt himself nod shakily.

/

"You would sign up for on-call service for the entire time of Apprentice Potter's... Hogwarts-based apprenticeship," Professor Smith declared. His bored tone of voice made it clear that he had conducted this inquiry several times before already in other classes, to no avail. A result which, hearing the job description, wasn't all that surprising.

"Whenever my apprentice would require you, you are to be there, reliably and without a hitch to ensure optimal working conditions for Apprentice Potter. It would be your job to make brewing easier for him in any way."

What the class heard was: You'll sweep up after him. You'll sort and shelve the ingredients he used. You'll carry his books, you'll keep tables and check lists for him, you'll clean his cauldrons and provide a speckless arsenal of stirring spoons. And for all that, if you're lucky, you'll get our eternal gratitude. Pointedly annoyed looks were exchanged.

"The potions he has vowed to tackle are very demanding, mentally and physically, therefore, a little help for the menial tasks – continuous and dependable help, that is – would be quite appropriate."

When the class merely shot him and Potter, who stood beside him unperturbed and unmoving, dark glances, he cleared his throat and continued, "Naturally, the volunteer him- or herself would also benefit from such tasks. Observing the brewing process itself can be very educational and would surely reveal to you entirely new dimensions of potion-making..."

His feeble attempts at making the offer sound tempting went on for several more minutes, until he finally sighed, with a pointed side glance at Potter that said I told you this was a waste of time, I told you your requirements were quite unreasonable, and anyway this will be the last I'll ever hear of this, and said, "Well? Any takers for this... wonderful... opportunity?"

There was a moment of deafening silence.

Focussing intently on his desk before him, hand slightly shaking, Scorpius raised his arm.

/TBC

How's that for a new and improved James Sirius Potter, eh?