Rondo

Spring was cruelest, trees bursting mercilessly into emerald blooms, flowers daring to show their flaming colors after months underground. He had always preferred winter, the sharp gray skies reflecting the color of his eyes, the pale earth a relentless reminder of his heritage. As nature unfolded new life Malfoy Manor grew darker, ivy unkempt twisting over the walls, rains dampening the air in the stone fortress. Ten years had passed since that final day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, and all it took was one movement in the shadows or a flicker of a candle to bring him back to that dungeon, to the rage and loss. Harry Potter, dead, checkmated in the dangerous multigenerational game of human chess. Lucius Malfoy, the grand master, hiding his war tactics until the lethal end.

In doorways, in the library stacks, in the sunrise hours outside the castle we made love, a feast before the unknown battle. Every day, it grew harder for me to speak to him when we were alone, knowing that once school ended it would be weeks before I could see him again. His pride betrayed the knowing look in his eyes that we would be incomplete without our competition, but he persevered as ever to barb me in the halls and in front of my friends. This game, how would it continue? Where would we find each other? Years from now, would he agree to raise his son with mine? A reflection of us, one light and one dark, contending against each other for control of the center of the board and the other's life.

Somehow I made it through final exams, though if Potions had been any longer I don't think I'd have been able to stand it. I was sure Snape suspected something, but he remained silent as we ground and brewed. When the final day of school came scorching hot with steam rising off the grounds, I dressed and headed to breakfast. He was there already, back turned to the doorway, talking to his usual crowd. I threw a glance at his table, but if he noticed my entrance no one knew. Eggs, bacon, all turned to dust in my mouth as I went through the motions of conversation. We would not be able to talk on the Hogwarts Express without our wands trained on each other, the most binding rule of all being that no one knew of our contest. I listened to the younger house members talk about their classes for next year, and the graduates who had found jobs competed for prestige.

Much too late, I realized it had been the pumpkin juice. Sweet, cold venom coursing down my throat, forcing the appearance of someone who was as excited as everyone else about the end of the school year. In the middle of a sentence I felt as though I'd suddenly consumed three bottles of wine, lightheaded and fighting to control my speech. Stumbling as I rose from my seat, I excused myself from the Great Hall. Several pairs of eyes showed confusion and concern, and I ran from them toward the stairs. I didn't know if he saw me and I didn't care, I had to get someplace safe, away from onlookers.

The dorm seemed miles away as I made my way past paintings who were fanning themselves against the heat. The world began to spin and I felt my knees fail me as I reached the entrance. Crawling on the floor, I gasped the password and collapsed on the floor of the common room, begging for someone to find me. My heart pounded in my ears as my chest began to cave, and I prayed to see those same people from whom I had run as phosphorescent spots blurred my vision. Nauseated, I slid into darkness, whispering a final plea for help.

I awoke someplace cool and dim, an unfamiliar relief from the summer sun. As I moved my arm, it felt strangely heavy. Confused and still clouded from the poison, I turned my head toward my hand and was shocked to see myself in iron chains anchored low on the wall. Looking around, I could see I was in a dungeon of some sort, possibly a torture chamber. The stone walls were stained, and the only light was offered by a few fat candles burning in the four corners. A door on the far side of the room opened and a tall, thin man entered, flanked by two shorter, stockier figures in hooded cloaks. I stood to meet them, untangling myself from the links.

They conferred quietly among themselves for a moment, then the tall man turned gracefully to face me. Candlelight shadowed his face but his eyes were the same translucent gray I had been looking into all year, an older, scarred version of Draco's.

When Lucius Malfoy spoke, he called me James.