Review, my pretties!
And go read Like Lightning, by ProjectWhatever. She's really nice and her story is HILARIOUS! So if you're craving more DracoxOC between Stuck chapters, go lose yourself in this one.
Once again, REVIEW. :D
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Draco followed Ariadne to the Eastern wing after he overheard the Dark Lord tell her where her parents were resting. A small part of the Slytherin boy had a difficult time believing that the Nocturnes died in the line of duty. The Order of the Phoenix had an arsenal of the best Aurors in existence, true, but the Nocturnes were powerful. The situation reeked of secrets and well-spun lies.
"Something isn't right here." Draco quietly followed Ariadne and the House-elf to where her parents were. The Eastern wing was adorned with Persian carpets, rich tapestries, and all types of art on the walls. The décor was dark and filled with rich purple, serving as a harsh contrast to the pristine glass of their coffins. The House-elf respectfully pretended to be examining a large painting of dragons while Ariadne said goodbye to her parents. Draco didn't even bother to hide, he stood in clear view of anybody who bothered looking in his direction.
Ariadne stood slowly and turned, and Draco froze in his spot. Their eyes met and the only readable expression on her soft features was pain. Deep, sorrowful pain that seemed to c from her being in harsh waves.
"What are you doing here, Prat?" and just like that, the depression was gone under a mask of reserve. Instead of heartbreak he saw anger and annoyance.
"I followed you over here to make sure you wouldn't steal anything, Nocturne. Completely routine of anybody who enters the Malfoy Manor." he said matter-of-factly. The House-elf at Ariadne's knee gave Draco a withering look—stating clearly that she didn't buy it for a moment.
"Just get out of my way before I hex you." she withdrew her wand with a quick flourish of her hand. The look on her face was hard and taut—she wasn't kidding. Draco brushed by the blond with a loud scoff and continued down a carpeted staircase.
"Have fun now, Nocturne." he didn't turn to look at the blonde girl, he merely offered a carefree wave in its stead. Ariadne wheeled and spat, "Shove it up your ass, Malfoy."
"Oh, no, darling. As much as I'd like to, I can't do it alone, you see. It's much more fun with an audience anyway."
"You insufferable, impossible, egotistical—" she fumbled for more adjectives and Draco turned with a slight smirk.
"Egotistical what? At a loss for words, are we? Try git, prat, arse, bastard, or anything of the sort. You're losing your touch, Nocturne. Tsk, tsk." he waved a long finger at her as if disappointed. "Now, if you're not going to hex me or seduce me or anything of the sort, I shall be leaving." Ariadne released a growl of frustration and stomped away.
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Ariadne stomped all the way past the drawing room, through a hallway decorated with crystal pieces, along the foyer, and up the stairs until she reached Draco's room. A wrought brass inscription of his name hung above the door frame, labeling the dwelling as his. She turned the knob with her right hand and threw open the door.
The room was painted a muted silver, and on his walls were posters of various Quidditch teams and Wizarding bands. He had a long, mahogany desk that was neatly organized. On its surface sat fresh parchment, ink bottles and quills of every size. Beside the desk was a leather armchair and the door that led into his closet. Curious, she ventured inside and nearly fainted from the scent.
Draco's spicy, rustic smell was all over the racks of clothes in the closet. With a horrifying start, Ariadne realized that this was the smell she had become intoxicated by in the Amortentia she brewed. She may have picked Blaise's potion, but what truly attracted her was this scent.
"Oh, bloody brilliant. Leave it to my stupid brain to fancy a stupid git like him." she buried her face in her hands and thought of her parents. The girl wondered if they were with Crete again. If they were worried or watching over her. She pulled herself away from the closet and back out into the spacious room. Three vertical windows looked out over the front of the manor, covered in a thin layer of frost that served no justice to the icy wonderland outside. Ariadne sat on the king-sized bed and sank into it, running her small hands over the deep green silk over and over. It calmed her, the silk. When she was small, and her parents were gone, the only thing she clutched was a pink silk blanket her mother had given her.
The garment now sat folded at the foot of her bed, miles and miles away. A sharp rap at the door snapped her from her memories.
"Nocturne, open up! This is my room and Merlin help me if I have to blast the door down!" Draco's voice was muffled through the wooden door but perturbed nonetheless. When she offered no answer Draco pounded on the door with what Ariadne assumed was his fists.
"Open this door, woman! I need to wash!" Ariadne quickly grabbed her toiletry bag from her trunk and tossed it into the bathroom.
"At once, Lord Draco!" she said snidely. "But don't you realize you can simply unlock the door with your wand?" Outside, Draco mentally kicked himself. Was he turning into a damned Muggle? Of course he could unlock it, what a blithering fool he was. He scrambled to pull his wand from the pocket of his slacks.
"Alohomora!" he barked. The lock complied and slid open easily. He burst into the room to find it empty—and the bathroom door shut firmly.
"Damn you, Nocturne! You'll take forever in there on purpose!"
"I'm your guest, Draco." she replied cooly, "Show some class."
"Class? Class would be me getting clean in the shower by now. Class is respect when it is deserved. Class is when—"
"Be quiet, won't you?" she called from the recesses of the glass shower. "All you ever do is prattle on about blood purity, your rights, respect and honor, but you never return any of those things!" Draco heard the water turn on and imagined Ariadne removing her clothes. He stopped listening at that moment while his mind ventured to, ahem, dirtier places.
"You have twenty minutes to be out of there, Nocturne. One moment more and I'm coming in."
"Fine, but if you see anything you aren't supposed to, I'll have your head."
"Which head, Ariadne? You know there's more than one." Draco could barely contain his laughter as Ariadne let loose a slew of curses, the most frequent being "dirty pervert". The Slytherin boy merely kicked off his trainers, leapt on the bed, and waited for the time to run out.
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Draco glanced at his watch—he had let her shower for thirty seconds past the time limit. With a wicked grin he tiptoed to the door and unlocked it with his wand. He paused for effect, and kicked down the door. Ariadne let out a tiny scream, nearly slipping on the tiled shower in attempt to cover herself. The steam that collected on the glass did most of the work for her, but the damage was already done. Draco pulled open the shower door, eyes averted, and shut off the water.
"I told you, twenty minutes." Ariadne snatched a towel from the rack outside and wrapped it around herself. In her long hair was unrinsed shampoo that smelled of strawberries.
"What did you see?" she asked. Draco swore he saw nothing, and albeit the eye rolls from Ariadne she didn't curse him. The girl warily grabbed her cosmetic bag and walked out of the bathroom.
"Is it a little cold, Nocturne? Your friends seem to be saying hello to me." He gestured to her chest and Ariadne's mouth opened in shock as her hands flew to cover her freezing body.
"When have you gotten so bold, little ferret? Did Mummy compliment you? Did Pansy make you feel like a real man? I'm not sure where you're getting the guts but getting smart with me will not pay off in the long run, I assure you." She purposely knocked the rolls of parchment from his desk onto the mahogany floor for good measure.
"I'll leave the door unlocked, y'know…" Draco announced. "In case you feel the urge." Ariadne wondered if she was going to be dizzy from all the eye rolling. She opened her trunk and chose a long-sleeved black cotton dress. Its hem brushed her mid-thigh and the back was a lacework pattern. Paired with the dress were black, glittery heels. A soft knock at the door preceded the entrance of Narcissa Malfoy. Her dinner outfit was a midnight blue dress that sheathed her hips snugly. Her hair was braided and tied at the nape of her pale neck.
"Ariadne…darling." She glided to the younger girl and sat down beside her in a sweep of blue skirts. Her slate eyes met Narcissa's icy gaze and she broke down in tears.
"Why, Mrs. Malfoy? Did they have to die? Tell me the truth." Ariadne's words were broken and colored with sobs. She resisted the urge to sniffle loudly. Narcissa brushed the damp hair from Ariadne's face with a slender hand.
"Sometimes things happen, and there's nothing that can be done. I know your parents loved you, Ari. I promise you that whatever transpires in the future, the Malfoys will be at your side." The last part of her promise was whispered, as if their support of the girl was forbidden or taboo. "You do know that your parents left a will, do you not?" Narcissa's eyes were questioning.
"No," the girl sniffed. "I've never heard of their will or what's in it or who gets whatever. I frankly don't care. Not all their money or gold or stupid china collections could bring them or Crete back." she grumbled. She was acting childish, and she knew, but she figured she could let herself have a moment of weakness. She was the last Nocturne from her immediate family left, after all.
"Yes, darling, that may be true. But unless you'd like the Ministry to seize your parents' things, you might want to make a claim sooner or later. Would you like me to take you home tomorrow?" Narcissa's voice was soft and comforting. Much like Violeta Nocturne's once was.
"If it's not a burden to you, that would be nice. Thank you, Narcissa." she said, voice even.
"And please try not to let Draco get under your skin. I know he can be difficult and downright idiotic at times, but I know there's good in his heart." Mrs. Malfoy winked a blue eye and planted a kiss on Ariadne's temple.
"Thank you for caring so much about me, Narcissa." Ariadne looked into her eyes and tears overflowed once more.
"You don't need to thank me, Ari. You know I consider you my daughter. Now let's dry up those tears and I'll do your hair. How does that sound?" Ariadne's face struggled to smile and she was speechless again. This woman, who knew fully how much Ariadne and Draco tortured each other, was offering to style her hair. The gesture seemed so odd in such a situation but was tempting nonetheless. Her mother never fixed her hair before.
So the girl stood, wiped her tears on Draco's recently removed shirt, and followed Narcissa to her vanity at the end of the hallway.
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Ariadne had never seen such superfluous cosmetic accessorizing. A large, circular mirror was mounted on the wall. Perfectly spherical light bulbs ringed the outside edge of the glass, with the ability to illuminate even the darkest of facial features. The counter that held countless beauty products was a white resin surface, polished clean of make-up smudges or hairspray residue. The entire image was exciting to Ariadne. It was like a free trip to the most ornate beauty parlor she could conjure in her mind.
"Draco used to love getting hair cuts from me." Narcissa began. "But he's too old to let his Mum cut his precious hair now. And dare I mention he doesn't care for it at all. It hangs on his head like wet straw." She grabbed a bottle of mousse that had a label written completely in French. In her hands pooled the foamy white mousse that quickly was massaged into Ariadne's damp locks.
"When he was little he'd blabber away about how I had to cut it perfectly." With her fingers she combed out the tangles in Ariadne's hair—before tackling it with an ivory paddle brush.
"Did he always need to have everything be in order like that?" Ari's mind drifted to the immaculate manner in which the Slytherin organized his school supplies.
"Hm, not really. He mostly wanted to make sure that it was perfect so you'd like it." Narcissa clapped a hand over her mouth mockingly, as if she'd let out a big secret. Ariadne groaned inwardly as she felt her cheeks twinge pink. Draco was worried about what she thought of his hair? The older blonde swished her wand and Ariadne felt a hot sensation sweep over her head. Within a minute or so her hair was completely dry. Narcissa then wove a single strand of hair around the length of her wand. When she let it go, the strand twisted and curled into a flawless wave. One more flick of her wand and the remaining strands sprung to life, curling themselves quickly. Turning toward her collection of cosmetics, she chose for Ariadne a thin liquid liner for her eyelid, simple silver shadow, and mascara.
"You don't need rogue, it'd be too harsh against your skin." She said nonchalantly, placing the palette of red blush back into a random container. With a practiced hand she lined Ariadne's upper lids with a thin black streak.
"And with that, you're done!" Ariadne looked at her flushed face in the white lights of the vanity. Her hair looked healthy and vivacious, revitalized by the cream Narcissa had worked in. Her make-up was modest and tasteful, making her look dark and dangerous yet approachable at the same time.
"Narcissa, you're a genius." she resolved, hugging her maternal role model tightly.
"No problem, dearie. It's all about appearances around here anyway. My Mother always told me, 'Cissy, you have eight seconds to make an impression upon someone!' and she's absolutely right. Everyone judges you in the first moments they see you. So why not give them a little something extra to chew on?" With another wink and small laugh, the two women exited the bathroom and made their way down to the meeting room. They passed Draco's room, where the door was ajar but lights extinguished.
"He must already be downstairs." Narcissa mused. Her assumption was confirmed moments later as they met Draco at the landing of the grand staircase. He waited there beside his father, both men dressed in black button-down shirts and pleated black slacks. In Draco's lapel was a white gardenia.
"My Malfoy boys." Narcissa beamed. " Always heartbreakingly handsome."Her painted lips brushed against Draco's cheek first, then lingered on the lips of her husband.
"Draco, escort Ariadne inside." she ordered. Draco offered his arm half-heartedly. Ariadne accepted it with equal disinterest. Ahead of them stood the doors to the drawing room, where Wormtail waited outside. He pulled open the large double doors with difficulty, despite the strength of the silver hand the Dark Lord gave him.
The drawing room was not one of Ariadne's favorite places (ever since it had been repurposed as the meeting place for all Death Eaters). She felt the temperature around her drop considerably, and the scent of sweat, wine, and death coiled in her nostrils like a poisonous smog. In the stone-cut hearth roared a raging fire, which cast long and sharp shadows across the inhabitants of the room. A large, singular table replaced the usual arrangement of many small tables, and Lord Voldemort sat at the head.
"Young Ariadne and Draco. It's so good of you to finally join us." Voldemort said, rising from his seat and extending his arms. Ariadne half expected him to embrace them, but realized such a gesture would be complete lunacy from the Dark Lord. Any contact he made with a person usually ended with the words, "Avada Kedavra."
"Tonight, I will grant you both the opportunity of a lifetime." The members around the table chuckled darkly in anticipation.
"Tonight will be the night you two begin a legacy that will be written on the blood-soaked pages of History forever. Tonight, you will both be induced as Death Eaters. The youngest ones I've created, in fact."
The tension in the room was now palpable. Voldemort walked soundlessly to the young couple who stood at the doorway.
"Come now, don't be shy. It will only hurt a little." The Dark Lord withdrew his wand from his robes and held out his hand to Ariadne.
"Ladies first, as always." Ariadne rolled up the sleeve of her left arm and felt her heart spring into overdrive. She never wanted this. Was this her fate? To follow in her parents' footsteps? To be branded like cattle, lumbering in senility to their slaughter? Of course, there was no backing out now. She would be killed on the spot if she tried to run.
The Dark Lord's fleshless lips stretched into a grimace as he began muttering the incantation. He made her swear her allegiance to him and to their cause before he touched the tip of his wand to her left arm.
To keep from screaming, Ariadne bit into her bottom lip with such force that blood welled in her mouth. The pain was white hot, curling her flesh away and replacing it with the sensation of a thousand needles. The cursed ink that flowed from his wand fed on her flesh greedily, weaving their image upon her forearm forever. Pain—blinding, senseless pain—set her entire body aflame. The fire that engulfed Ariadne licked her bones and every cell in her being—razing every nerve to ash.
She gripped the Dark Lord's arm to keep from collapsing.
"Bellatrix, I believe you owe Dolohov six galleons." A few Death Eaters stared at their master in confusion. To ease the uncertainty Voldemort explained.
"Bella presumed that Ariadne would scream and squeal like a stuck pig. Dolohov's opinion differed. Therefore, Bella, you owe the man his money." Bellatrix practically threw the coins at the now grinning Dolohov.
"You owe me six galleons, girl!" Bellatrix snarled. Ariadne was panting too hard to care. She looked down at her new Dark Mark and was surprised her arm wasn't swollen at all. The only sign of injury was the thin lines of blood that seeped from the tattoo. Other than that, it seemed as if the mark had been there forever.
"Now it's your turn, Draco." Voldemort beckoned the boy forward and skipped the formality of swearing his loyalty. He jabbed Draco's arm abruptly and the Slytherin sunk to his knees. Ariadne looked to Lucius, who sighed inaudibly and shook his head in disappointment. At least he didn't scream. As Ariadne and Draco took their places beside Narcissa and Lucius, Voldemort began explaining his new assignment for the recently induced Death Eaters.
"Now that I've allowed you into this exclusive circle, I must ask of you one thing. I give you both the honor of murdering Albus Dumbledore." Ariadne did her best to hide her shock, but the look on her face must have given her away.
"I know it is a large task, dear Ariadne, but you've nothing to lose. Draco, on the other hand, has everything to lose. His parents, a loving family, his beautiful home, and you, of course, Miss Nocturne." Ariadne blushed deeply as Draco did beside her.
"If you fail, you all will die. There are no exceptions. You both have until the end of your next school term. Without the wand of Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter will find a way to kill me. The holly and phoenix feather wand that chose me all those years ago refuses to fight its brother. I am not so loyal." Voldemort twirled the wand around in his bony fingers. That wand, that thin piece of wood resting in his grasp was the instrument used to murder and maim innocent people. The injustice and irony was too staggering to ignore. His "disloyalty" to a weapon that did nothing but obey couldn't possibly be stopping the Dark Lord from killing Harry Potter. There had to be a component Ariadne was overlooking, He needed a different wand. Something more powerful. What better wand than Albus Dumbledore's?
The knot that twisted its way into Ariadne's stomach decided to stretch its reach beyond her intestines and up through her heart. Fear and dread bubbled inside of her. She never wanted this life. Draco must have sensed her discomfort, as his warm hand found its way to rest on her thigh. The touch was completely comforting. He squeezed her knee once and then the sensation was gone.
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The dinner that followed the two students' induction was rich and lavish. An entire roasted pig sat stuffed in the center of the dining table, surrounded by large bowls of potatoes, corn, salad, and other dishes. Each bite was a complement to the one preceding and following it. Although the couple was surrounded by the decadent display, neither of them touched a scrap. Ariadne politely asked to be excused, and once permission was granted Draco followed suit.
Ariadne strode straight to Draco's room—intent on getting to sleep and escaping the horrible reality that plagued her mind. Oblivious to the fact that Draco was in the room with her, Ariadne tore off her dress and stood in her underwear until she found a sufficient nightshirt. Out of Draco's closet. She stole a t-shirt Draco owned that had faded to a pale purple.
"Aren't you going to put on pants?" Draco asked, startled by his companion's lack of the aforementioned clothing. Ariadne shook her head.
"Sorry buddy, you'll have to get used to it. I don't sleep with pants—it makes it hard for my legs to breathe." She leapt into Draco's silk covers and took the spot on the right side of the bed farthest from the window. The light always woke her up in the mornings. Draco shrugged, removed his shirt, and slowly unbuckled his black leather belt. As his slacks dropped to the floor Ariadne couldn't help but sneak a peek at his boxers. Or should she say boxer-briefs. The black material left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Ariadne found herself reddening madly. To hide her excitement she buried herself beneath the bedding.
She felt Draco slide in at her side and relaxed as he turned out the lights.
"Good night, Nocturne."
"Good night, Draco. If you molest me, I'll—"
"Yes, I know. You'll have my head." Ariadne rolled over onto her left side, exposing her back to Draco and hiding the smile she couldn't control. Twenty minutes of complete silence passed. At the same time, they both asked, "Are you awake?"
Ariadne rolled back until her slate orbs met with his blue ones. His lips were slightly parted and his hair disheveled. The moonlight, albeit dim, threw enough of Draco's features into relief to be able to examine him thoroughly. His right shoulder was muscled and smooth, and the arm that was attached to it was draped across his chest. The other arm was snaked beneath the pillow that supported his head. His expression was unreadable, perhaps he was studying her as well. He lifted the hand that rested on his chest and reached for Ariadne's face. She did not flinch or move. From his angle, the light of the moon made her face completely visible. He extended his pointer finger and traced the delicate outline of her jaw, over her lips, and across her nose. He ran his touch along her eyebrows, felt the shape of her eyes, which fluttered beneath his fingers. His hand fell to her lips once more, and they parted when his fingers brushed against them. He could have sworn that she kissed his fingers at that moment, but the contact was so light he couldn't be sure.
He leaned in close and was mere inches from her face. As his hand moved to frame her face, his lips dared to venture even closer to Ariadne's. He went slowly, stopping to see if Ariadne would hesitate.
"Today, we became Death Eaters together. We've taken this plunge into a dark abyss we can't escape from. But I figure it'll be all right, Ariadne. I've got you, haven't I?" a thin finger shushed his lips and Ariadne raised a manicured brow.
"What is it that you want, exactly?" she asked in reply.
"You." In his mind he had fantasized about this moment thousands of times, the moment when he actually got to kiss Ariadne Nocturne. For years he had daydreamed of such a prospect, and now it was only centimeters away. He swallowed the butterflies threatening to break free from his stomach and touched his lips to hers.
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