The Sweetest Death

I don't know why I went.

Perhaps it was that I felt some sort of familial duty, or maybe it was just some perverse desire to see the other side. To see the world that I had given up when I ran away from home at the tender age of sixteen.

I don't know what I was expecting. It certainly wasn't this. I didn't ever expect to find myself pressed up against a dusty bookshelf being kissed breathless by my worst enemy. I didn't expect this frenzy of teeth and nails and heat and pain. I didn't expect him.

I had arrived late, so most people were already inside. I pulled nervously on my tie and took a deep breath, looking up at the towering manor house. It truly was a beautiful building. Like its inhabitants, the paleness of the building's stone and immaculate exterior only hinted at the darkness that it held within. The view was horrifying and magnetic at the same time. I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"Sir. May Minky take your coat sir?" I looked down and saw a tiny house elf looking up at me expectantly. It had tufts of hair protruding from its bat-like ears, and the trademark piece of ratty material wrapped around its middle.

I shook my head slightly and turned away from the house elf, who, thankfully, took this as his cue to leave, and hurried off back toward the house. Shaken from my reverie, I approached the entrance.

Once inside, I took in the grand marble entrance way bedecked in white lilies. Her favorite, I remembered. I noticed some more black-clad individuals through a doorway on my right, and so I quietly headed into the room, and slipped into a corner in the back of the room.

I could see the white coffin at the front of the room, with a bouquet of lilies resting on top. A pale, narrow-faced boy was standing beside the coffin peering in at its occupant. I saw the silent tears start to fall down his face and he brought a hand up to roughly wipe them away.

I remembered his face from Hogwarts, when he had almost led to my downfall. Harry had spoken of him often, in scathing tones, but the boy I saw grieving over his mother's death was nothing like the boy that Harry so detested.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he turned to look up at its owner. A near mirror image of his son, he had long pale hair that fell in soft waves down his back. In a rare show of affection, he embraced his son. Kissing the top of the boy's head, he released him and looked up.

I felt a chill run up my spine as his ghostly gray eyes met my own. I nodded at him and he turned away, leading his son to their seats. He didn't react at all to my gesture.

The service was severe and short. There were very few personal notes, as if the entire service was just protocol, and not in remembrance of a human being. But I had seen her family. I knew that, in their own way, they grieved for her.

Afterwards, we moved to the great hall. I grabbed some wine and moved to lean against a marble column in one corner of the room out of the way where I could observe my surroundings, but not be noticed. I was still a wanted man, after all, and I had just willingly walked into a proverbial snake pit.

Suddenly I felt his eyes on me. I looked up and my dark eyes met his pale gray ones. It felt as though he was looking right through me. I tried to keep the connection, but he overwhelmed me, and I had to look away.

Then he was making his way toward me. He picked his way through the crowd with an almost feline grace, and suddenly I was face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

"Sirius." After all these years, it still never ceased to amaze me how he could make any word sound like a caress. Lucius rolled my name off his tongue like he had been speaking it for years and it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Lucius." I did my best to look him straight in the eye and not flinch as his cold, gray orbs bored me. Finally I was forced to look away. I

"You came." It was not a question. I nodded almost imperceptibly.

"She was my cousin, after all."

Lucius didn't respond to my words. He looked away from me and glanced across the room. I followed his eyes and saw his son who was currently hunched over on a velvet-covered chair in the corner with his head turned away from the room, hidden behind one of his arms. Ever so often I could see the boys body shudder and he would bring a hand up to his face and brush away what I could only presume were tears.

Lucius's voice brought me back to the striking man next to me. "What have I done to him so that he is afraid to show weakness, even at his mother's funeral? Look at him. He is a beautiful young boy, and all I have done is bring him pain."

Lucius continued to look at his son wearing the same stoic mask that both he and his son were famous for, but I could see the pain evident in his eyes. Unable to figure out what else to do, I tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Draco is strong. You did the best you could." It came out flat and not nearly as comforting as I had meant it to be. I awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and slowly removed my hand.

"Did I?" Lucius gave me a level look. "Did I really? He is strong, but that was by his own doing, and had nothing to do with me. I was too wrapped up in my own shit to notice him. To notice her. And it was my own foolish neglectfulness that killed her. If I'm not careful, I'm going to lose Draco too."

I looked at Lucius, and at that moment I saw him as I had never seen him before. It was like he was stripped bare before me. To the rest of the world Lucius Malfoy was a stuck-up, self-righteous git who had too much money. They saw the bigoted, evil Death Eater, but I was sure that no one had seen the other Lucius. Not even his family had ever been privy to a glimpse of the man who now stood before me, gazing at his only son with a look filled with longing and pain.

Those were the last words we spoke to each other. I continued to stand by his side, silently, watching him stoically regard his only son, and occasionally taking a sip from the half-empty glass of water in my hand.

I didn't even realize as the hall began to empty out. It wasn't until Lucius reached over and put a hand on my shoulder that I looked over and saw Draco, the last remaining figure in the hall besides us, leave by way of a small, shadowed doorway on the opposite side of the room. Lucius met my eyes then, without saying a word, turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

I was at a loss whether or not I was supposed to follow or leave. But, whether by some will of my own or, more likely, by power of the magnificent man before me, I followed.

He led the way through a dark hallway, lit with small lanterns and lined with portraits of various golden-haired people that I could only assume were Malfoy ancestors. Then he made his way up a stone spiral staircase and down another narrow corridor before stopping short before a large portrait, which was only unique in that it pictured a landscape in lieu of one of the severe figures that adorned the other hallway. I saw Lucius mutter something under his breath right before the picture seemed to dissolve out of its gilt frame, leaving a square opening in the middle where a view of the Welsh hills had been moments before. Lucius ducked his head and gracefully stepped into the room.

Afraid that the doorway would close before I would get there I sped up to a jog and almost dived through the portrait hole. This was undignified enough, but I managed to seal my image as a total wanker when, as I darted into the room, I got my toe caught on a throw rug and fell flat on my face. Totally humiliated, I looked up from my position on the floor to see a well-shined, expensive black shoe. I followed it to a finely-toned black-clad leg, over a black belt with a shiny buckle, to a dark gray cashmere sweater, until my eyes rested on Lucius's face which seemed blank of emotion with the exception of one arched, perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"Um...Hi?" The second I said it I realized how idiotic it sounded, and I felt a blush rise over my skin as I picked myself up off the floor and did my best to piece together the shattered shreds of my dignity.

Without uttering a word, Lucius turned from me and walked over to a small, round dark wooden table that was situated beside a large, leather chair. Resting on it was a half-filled decanter, and two crystal glasses. Lucius picked up the decanter and slowly poured a small amount of very expensive brandy into each glass, then walked over and handed one to me.

"Cheers." Lucius drank all of his brandy in one go, before returning to the table and refilling his glass. Not sure of what was going on, I only took a small sip at first. The brandy burned its way down my throat, and warmed me from the inside. Content with the taste of the drink, I finished off the rest of my glass in fairly short order, and had it refilled by my blond companion who, by that time, was already on his fourth glass.

Three hours and two bottles of brandy later, Lucius and I were sprawled out on his study floor, side by side. He crawled along the floor and braced his arms on either side of me, his face hovering inches away from my own. The unpleasant odor of liquor emanating from his open mouth was making me nauseous, so I turned my face away, hoping that he would get the hint and move away from me. Lucius, however, was not that perceptive in his currently inebriated state, and continued to look down on me, wordlessly scrutinizing every inch of my face.

Not entirely due to Lucius's slow and tranquil state, I was shocked beyond belief when I was suddenly hauled up by my shirt and found my mouth pressed hard against Malfoy's own soft lips. I gasped and the blond used it as the perfect opportunity to delve his tongue past my lips while his hands move over every inch of my body.

Thus I find myself in my current predicament, being devoured by this man. I feel his tongue sweeping the inside of my mouth, doing battle with my own. I can feel his hardness against me, and I know exactly where this is headed, and I'm helpless to stop it.

I feel his hands deftly undoing my buckle and pushing down my black trousers. We stumble over to the bed and he falls on top of me. We're tearing at clothing, sending shredded pieces of black fabric to all corners of the room. His hands are on me, and the feeling is overwhelming. I'm drowning in him, and I'm lost to darkness.

~@~

I know this is wrong. I watch him sleeping, looking for all the world like an angel descended from heaven, and in a way he is. He is Lucifer, the ultimate fallen angel, and he is tearing me down with him.

I feel it in my very soul, and in every one of the many cuts and bruises scattered over my body. He has sucked me in and sucked me dry and I can feel a part of me dying, but it is a sweet death. I'm captivated by him, and I know that at this moment I'm trapped. I'll never again be free, but I can't help but wonder...is that such a bad thing?