The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 5

Triggers

We all dangle from a very thin string that slowly sways from sanity to insanity. Lilith Moon's string seemed to dangle her on the insane side of the line more often than not. As she slowly traveled down the long corridor from the library toward the staircase Moon desperately tried to shake the sensation that she could feel hot breath on her neck, that a monster's throbbing member was shoved inside of her lighting her on fire from within, that her flesh was being ripped open again and again.

Her bag brushed up against one of the long jagged scars on her side and her head span at the imaginary pain. She closed her eyes, gasping once for air and the darkness swirled into nightfall and the image of a dark haired man, slumped over with blood gushing though dirty fingers at his throat stood out clearly in the moonlight. She gasped again forcing her eyes open.

He was still there only lit up by the late afternoon sun streaming through the stained glass windows, shading his pale skin in odd shades of blues and reds. She cried, his name lost on her lips.

"Whoa," a worn voice called from behind her, grasping her elbows as her knees tried to buckle. "Easy, sweetheart," it crooned, "take a breath."

She couldn't.

Her skin was on fire again radiating from the points the person behind her was touching and she cried out in pain. "Breathe, sweetheart, breathe," the voice crooned again, but she only heard the gurgling attempts at speech the man before her whispered.

The world melded into a kaleidoscope of colors blurring together in dizzying patterns as the image of the man fled her. Her ears rushed with sound, the sounds of screams, heartbeats, whispers, and laughter, all gathered into one loud gush of noise as her mouth filled with the salty taste of blood.

Her knees gave way.

'Stupid bitch,' hissed Draco Malfoy mentally as he stormed into the Slytherin common rooms. Growling loudly he yanked the third year sleeping on his favorite chair up and tossed him across the room. "Get out of my sight!" he roared, falling dramatically into the chair and placing his hand over his eyes. 'Fuck her? Fuck her! Who does she think she is? Why would I want to fuck her?'

He continued to silently rage, glowering at the fireplace with an intensity that could freeze the flames had he wished it until a soft voice cooed in his ear. "Draco, baby, what's the matter?"

Sighing resignedly, his hand fell to his side and he peered up at Pansy Parkinson. Her lips parted into a fake smile. "Draco, darling, you're trembling with frustration. Let's go up stairs." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'Yes, Pansy would think everything could be solved with a good fuck.' He snorted. 'As if Pansy's a good fuck.'

"Draco," she whined.

Glancing up at her, Malfoy sighed and cupped her cheek in his hand. His thumb softly brushed across the tiny freckles that peppered her cheekbone and she leaned into his caress.

It was pathetic. She was pathetic. Malfoy laughed dryly at himself. He was pathetic. He should have taken her. He should have proved her wrong. It's what his father would have done.

"Draco," whispered Parkinson as his fingers buried themselves in her hair, guiding her lips to his. He kissed her gently, sorely regretting his hasty decision to leave. Well, there was always Wednesday.

"Lila," a hoarse voice chuckled in her ear, "stay still. This is permanent; you're going to mess it up." She giggled, desperately trying not to squirm but failing miserably as the tickle of wet ink whispered with the lightest of caresses across her spine. "Lila," the voice reprimanded.

"Sorry," she whispered, as if keeping a low voice would prevent her from moving. "It tickles, and you've been at it for ages, I have to pee."

Warm breath wafted across her neck as moist lips brushed against her skin. "And, I'd let you up, if you wouldn't peek. But, I can't trust you, can I Lila?" She gave a small shake of her head and he laughed into her ear. "Five more minutes and I swear; we'll be done."

The cool ink spilled across her flesh again, and she bit her lip to hold back her giggle. "You could at least entertain me. Making me lay face down for hours, suppressing my laughter and not even giving me something interesting to think about. You're cruel."

His rich baritone laughter filled the room and he pressed his lips to her neck, inhaling the sweet jasmine scent of her hair. "Cruel? I thought I was being nice. You've been begging to have this done ever since I can remember."

She pouted dramatically.

"Alright," he caved. "What would you like for entertainment? For me to recite poetry?"

"Sing," was her short response.

He laughed. "I should have known that was coming."

"Well, I like to listen to you sing," she whispered innocently.

"Mmhmm," he murmured before quietly falling into song.

She drifted into oblivion as he sang, letting his deep, smooth voice carry her away into almost a peaceful slumber. The tickling of the brush along her skin faded into nothing, and his warm breath encompassed her fully. She was merely floating in his warmth, in his sound, entirely contented, entirely whole.

"All done," the words wormed their way into her fragmented world and she blinked her eyes open.

His eyes were an endless sea, or so she always thought. So blue, and so deep. She smiled into them and his fingers brushed her cheek as he tucked her hair behind her ears. "You want to see?" he asked and she shook her head.

Gently cupping him though the thin fabric of his pajamas, she whispered, "I'd rather have you."

"Hey there," a gravelly voice greeted Moon as she slowly pried her eyes open. "You alright?"

She rolled over and retched into the rubbish bin beside her. "Fine," she muttered once she managed to regain herself. "Fine."

"You fainted on me," the voice informed her as a callous hand held out a patterned handkerchief. "Burns, by the way, Jaysen Burns. New Defense professor."

Moon nodded, sitting up and wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I know."

The professor grinned at her, his teeth were uneven and crooked, and his lips much too thin, but Moon couldn't help but think he had a nice smile. "I wasn't sure. You're not in any of my classes."

She nodded, brushing her short crimson hair from her eyes. "I stopped taking the class after the fourth useless professor."

"Ah," was his simple answer. "I don't blame you."

"Well, thanks," she murmured, slowly rising from the battered sofa. She swayed on her feet and his calloused hands found her shoulders.

"No. No, you don't. Stay put for a bit," he ordered, firmly but gently guiding her back to the sofa. "You're shaking like a leaf. No need to agitate it further by getting lost in the masses returning to class."

"I'm fine," she retorted, standing up again.

He turned to her, fixing her with a dim glare. "Don't make me hex you."

Moon fell back onto the sofa with a huff, glowering at the man's back. He tittered around the cabinets behind his battered oak desk for a moment before facing her again. Placing a patterned teacup in her hand, he sighed. "You're a rather grim little thing, to have such a nice smile."

"How would you know?" sniffed Moon, swirling her teacup, watching the liquid whirlpool.

Laughing slightly, Professor Burns replied, "It's not spiked with anything more than whiskey, if that's why you're avoiding it." Moon glanced up at him suddenly, the amber liquid sloshing over the brim of her cup as her attention fled it. "You were smiling in your sleep," he answered, shrugging.

"Oh," intoned Moon, nodding dimly before sipping the tea. "Sometimes, the nightmares are pleasant."

Burns nodded understandingly. "Those aren't nightmares then, honey."

Moon laughed darkly. "Every dream with him is a nightmare, because when I wake up, he's gone. It's a cruel realization to face every morning." Burns didn't respond.

"It's Lily, right?" asked Burns after a long moment of silence.

"Lilith," she corrected. "Lilith Moon." She brought her hollowed eyes to his pale green ones. "I take it you're the latest 'save Moon, therapist?'" Snorting, she shook her head. "Look, I don't have time for this. I have class in less than ten minutes."

Chuckling, Burns sat on the coffee table in front of her, blocking her exit with his knees. "I wasn't aware of any 'save Moon' campaign. Care to share why there would be?"

Her eyes blinked once, before she meet his gaze head on. "How many times a day to you think of suicide, sir? I mean, truly contemplate ending you own life. And then, sir, how many times do you come to the conclusion that you are undeserving of that peace?"

Burns smiled tightly. "Evidently, as often as you, Ms. Moon."

Lilith attempted to hide her sob in a laugh. "I'm not whole anymore, sir. Not even close to it. It's my fault. I did this. If you would, please, excuse me. I have things to do."

"Lilith," called Burns as she handed him her half-empty cup, and stepped over his leg to leave. "I'll excuse you from class. Go get some sleep."

Gazing at him solemnly, she replied, "What makes you think I sleep? Just because I dream?" He grabbed her hand as she started for the door again and her breath caught in her throat. "That's my trigger, sir. Best let me go. I can't afford another breakdown this week."

"There was no one in the hall," retorted Burns as he dropped her hand.

"There was a truth potion in the tea," she whispered and he let her go.

Panic was radiating from her, washing over him in pleasant waves as he slowly painted her core with his fingertips. Her voice was lost on her lips as she tried to scream, her nails digging into his skin as she begged him to stop. She couldn't breathe, but her body was reacting to him, pleading for him to move inside her.

He complied, slowly pressing two fingers into her and she wailed silently, begging him to stop. He smirked, Merlin she felt good. Tight, her muscles contracting around his fingers as he moved in and out of her, despise her desperately attempts to convince him that it hurt, that she didn't want it.

His tongue trailed up the side of her neck, as he tasted her. Merlin, she tasted like fear, like panic. It was almost overwhelming.

As his lips crossed the main vein pumping blood through her neck, he stopped, letting his fingers rest at her entrance. Tasting her erratic heartbeat with his tongue, he took a deep breath and if at all possible, her panic driven body tensed further. Sinking his teeth into her neck, sucking brutally as the blood flowed into his mouth he cruelly shoved his fingers inside her again. She cried out, her body arcing, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was his name on her lips.

Suddenly, she was gone. He was no longer in school robes, pinning a panicked Lilith Moon to him as he pleasured her ruthlessly. Instead, he was masked, staring into the broken face of an old man, who similar tears streaming down his cheeks.

Draco Malfoy panicked within, but kept his cool facade. He didn't have a choice. He couldn't be weak here.

"Please," the bleeding man pleaded again, grasping at air. "Please, just don't touch my babies. Please, they didn't do anything. They don't know anything." As the memory played on, the man continued to beg.

Everything was colorless. Black and white. Shadows.

He shook his head. He made no promises. He could never keep them. He didn't have a choice. "Where are they?" he drawled, doing everything in his power to keep his voice from wavering.

"Please," the man begged, and his blood shown red in the shadowed candlelight.

Without warning, the scene changed. Back to black and white, back to colorless. Someone was writhing on the stone floor. Violent screaming issuing from her mouth. She was beautiful. Glorious. Even in her agony. He admired her for that.

Beauty in pain. It gave him some small comfort. That what he caused was beautiful. Cruel. Brutal. But, Beautiful.

Malfoy awoke in a sweat, his heart racing, his blood pounding in his veins. Inhaling a deep shuddering breath, he sat up.

"Mm, Draco," a groggy Parkinson murmured. "What's the matter?"

"Go back to sleep, Pansy," he growled. Leaning over her, he grabbed his cigarette case and lit up. "Merlin," sighed Malfoy. "I've gotta stop doing that."

"Doing what, Draco?" asked Parkinson.

Malfoy laughed dryly. "Having erotic dreams about women you'll never compare too."

Parkinson snored. Malfoy rolled his eyes, taking a long drag off his cancer stick. He sighed heavily. He'd have to get rid of this preoccupation with Moon. It was causing his nightmares to return. Like thoughts of her were a trigger, or something.

Endnotes:

1) Not much to say. Uh… I hope you enjoyed. Any and all feedback is welcomed.

2) Thanks for reading.