Charms Drama

24 May 1971

Lucius sat one of the plush green couches adorning the Slytherin common room, holding his potions book with one hand, his other hand absent-mindedly intertwined with Narcissa's while she adoringly nuzzled her head against his shoulder.

"I still can't believe Flitwick gave me detention!" Rabastan Lestrange exploded into common room through the seemingly innocuous dungeon wall. The few heads left studying at this time of night simultaneously glanced up at the intrusion before bowing their heads back to their textbooks, problem sets and essays.

"What happened to cause that?" Narcissa innocently asked as he sat down across from her boyfriend.

"We were assigned partners in charms today," Rabastan wrinkled his nose, as though that was explanation enough.

"And?"

"My Mudblood partner didn't appreciate the advice I gave him on how to cast a bubblehead charm. As though a Mudblood wouldn't have something about to learn from a pureblood! Absolutely no respect, no idea where his proper place is. So, the next time he waved his wand, a piece of parchment popped out the tip that said 'Please, let me belong to an actual wizard, and not to a Mudblood!' Well, Flitwick didn't seem to find it as hilarious as the rest of the class did. And, just to top it off, I could have received detention again for walking back to the common room after curfew!"

"After curfew?" Narcissa glanced around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Around eleven forty-five."

"Oh, I should probably get some sleep before classes tomorrow morning. Good night, Lucius." With a peck on the cheek, Narcissa gathered her homework and departed for the girls' quarters. Over the course of the next hour, the rest of the common room gradually emptied until the only sound was the scratching of Lucius quill on the parchment titled "Potions Essay." He loved the common room at this time of night. Without the normal mass of students inhabiting it the character of the room seeped into the atmosphere—the ancient, regal atmosphere, the slight nip to the air, the smell of the wall's stones and the smell of the salt that leaked from the lake into the stones; it was all very peaceful.

At the sound of footsteps, Lucius disinterestedly glanced up to see who was entering the common room at this time of night, and saw Carrow walking from the direction of the boys' dormitories. Was he—Merlin, he was still in his night clothes! No shoes, a long-sleeved shirt with a few worn holes around the wrist and long-pants with a tattered hemline. No outer robe. No coat. Did he have no sense of propriety? Lucius would have never admitted to owning clothes in that state of disrepair, much less wear them in public, and much much less if they were pajamas! Carrow, seemingly oblivious to his blatant disregard for social conventions, plopped down on a chair adjacent to the couch Lucius was seated on. Lucius regarded him out of the corner of his eye, wondering why the other boy had chosen to sit that close when every other seat in the common room was empty.

When Carrow said and did nothing Lucius disinterestedly drawled, "Carrow, I'm not interested in practicing bubble-head charms right now. State your business or leave me in peace to write my potions essay."

He smirked in return. No, the single word smirk could not describe it. It was a slanted grin, mischievous, knowing, powerful, one that twisted his face into an even more handsome conformation than before. "I know something about you," Carrow simply stated. Lucius frowned slightly and cautiously waited for an elaboration, unsure what he was referencing. Still grinning like the Chesire Cat, Carrow reiterated, "I couldn't mention it in class, but, yes, I know something about you, Lucius."

Lucius's frown deepened. "That's Malfoy to you."

"No, no, I think I can call you Lucius. You see, I understand you better than anyone else ever will. Lestrange, Black, they will never understand you as much as I already do." Each word was carefully, lightly, confidently articulated.

"That's a high claim, Carrow," he menacingly growled.

Obviously unthreatened by Lucius's tone of voice, he stood up and took a seat on the couch uncomfortably close to the blond boy. Lucius could practically feel Carrow's breath on his neck, feel the way Carrow's dark eyes burned into his own, and only his curiosity combined with his internalized sense of politeness kept him from squirming away. "See, I know that—" and if possible those ebony eyes were now even closer, and he could now feel Carrow's breath on his face and he felt something warm and soft against his lips—not skin on skin he knew, but lips on lips and when Carrow withdrew, that devilishly handsome grin unmovingly plastered on his face, Lucius could still feel the ghost of Carrow's lips against his, a tingling sensation in them that he had not once experienced with Narcissa.

"See, I knew that you wouldn't move away. And I knew you wouldn't be angry afterwards," Carrow breathed, his face still close to Lucius's, the light blue eyes and the ebony eyes locked onto each other. "Because I know what you are."

Without a further word, Carrow turned back to the Slytherin dormitories, leaving Lucius to stare at the bare-footed boy's retreating footsteps, unsure what exactly had just happened, and more importantly, unsure why he hadn't minded it in the least.

25 May 1971

"Lucius, what was that?"

"What was what?" he innocently replied, all the meanwhile desperately avoiding Rabastan's eyes.

"You just ditched me in charms! Hey, slow down." The two boys were weaving their way through the crowd that fed directly into the Great Hall for lunch, and Rabastan grabbed his friends shoulder to prevent their separating. "Flitwick said we could pick our own partners again, and you ditch me! What the hell? For Carrow, no less. I had to team up with a Hufflepuff. She could have accidentally blown my nose off!"

"But she didn't, so what's the big deal?

"What's the big deal? Lucius! Why the hell did you ditch me for Carrow?" Rabastan held Lucius's arm to keep him from further swerving through the crowd and to force his friend to face him.

"Alright, you want to know the truth?" Lucius stalled, his mind desperately searching for the "truth."

"No, I want you to lie to me," he sarcastically iterated as the members of the crowd jostled them left and right.

With his mind racing, and his eyes flickering every which way like those of a caged animal, Lucius started, "Carrow cornered me last night. Asked me to be his charms partner again since we had, quote, worked together so well last time. I implied that I thought I already had a partner (you, of course), but he was completely oblivious. I couldn't figure out any other properly polite way to reject him, so I relented."

Lucius warily scanned his friend's motionless face. Had he bought the explanation? And then—a ray of light, a crack in his frozen expression. A laugh. And a another laugh, and then Rabastan had swung his arm around Lucius's shoulder as they continued walking towards the Great Hall. "Oh, so that's what was eating you. I can't believe Carrow would be rude! Has he no sense of social conventions? Then again, what can you expect from someone of his upbringing, right?"

"Ha, yes, exactly," he feebly replied, greatly calmed by his friend's reaction.

"Well, next time he does that, tell him to bugger off or I'll hex him into next week for stealing my partner. I mean, really, that Hufflepuff could have hexed off my nose," Rabastan replied, delicately running a finger down the perfectly straight bridge of his nose.

With a slight grin from Lucius, the two Slytherin boys took their seat and started ravenously filling their silver plates with the House-elf prepared food. "Mate, you've got to try a slice of this pie," Rabastan chewed. Or, rather, it sounded more like "Maghb, you'bg go' 'o 'ry a slice of this pie," as Rabastan had only finished chewing for the second half of the sentence.

"You know, just because the house elves put out deserts for both lunch and dinner doesn't mean you have to consume pie at both meals."

"Yes, mum," Rabastan rolled his eyes. "After this I'll eat my vegetables, happy?"

Lucius didn't reply though, for he had just noticed a certain dark-haired boy at the other end of the Slytherin table. Just the sight of Carrow was enough to make him smell the salt and stone of the common room, to feel the slightest ghost of pressure against his lips. His explanation to Rabastan had been complete fantasy, of course. It did not matter that they were friends; Lucius did not even consider it a possibility to reveal what had actually happened in the common room last night. He could not think of a single worse way to violate proper social conventions than being kissed by a boy, and as far as he was concerned, it was the type of reputation-ruining secret that was worth carrying with him to the grave.

He was not exactly sure why he had asked, demanded, that Carrow be his partner in Charms. He had only known that every other potential arrangement seemed detestable to him, and that he had practically sprinted across the small Charms classroom to ensure that they were partners. A single raised eyebrow had been the boy's only response to Lucius's rather odd behavior and he had furthermore spent the entirety of the lesson referring to him as "Malfoy"—no acknowledgement, however subtle, of last night.

However well Carrow may have claimed to understand Lucius, Lucius could put in no reciprocal claim. That would be something to work on. Learn what makes Carrow tick.

And then—a burst of jubilation. Yes, that was why he had not protested the kiss. He wanted to learn what made Carrow tick. How the mind of such an odd species as Carrow worked.

His lack of protest had nothing to do with the fact that there might have been a small, tiny, miniscule—no, nonexistent—portion of him, that might have just enjoyed the kiss.

Yes, nonexistent. For such behavior was not befitting of a Malfoy.